The Duchess's New Retainers
As she stepped into the parlor, she saw the three men and Matthias.
Matthias clutched a thick stack of documents to his chest—likely the proposal he intended for them.
"A pleasure to meet you. I'm Dominik Silberfeld."
Pale, unblemished skin. Short-cropped black hair and pale gray-blue eyes. Dominik was every bit as massive as Colonel Eberstein had been back then, and he still was now.
"P-Pleasure... Florian Riedel."
In complete contrast, Florian had a soft demeanor. His long brown hair fell naturally, framing gentle eyes. That droopy gaze, always on the verge of tears—it was the same then as now.
"...Hello. Giev."
And then Giev.
Thin, weary eyes shadowed with fatigue.
His body was gaunt from chronic hunger, draped loosely in a worn shirt, but beneath it lay lean, hard-earned muscle without an ounce of fat. He looked frail at a glance, but he wasn't.
Ibel compared each one to her memories as she took her seat.
First, she needed to ease their wariness.
She might not rebuild the exact bonds from before, but Victor wanted to repay the debts from her previous life.
"You're probably wondering why we summoned you."
Ibel smiled faintly and spoke first to Florian, who seemed the most tense. He was the one most likely to drop his guard quickly.
The unreliable assistant.
He'd tremble at the sight of blood.
But his slender, dexterous fingers had been useful in surgery, and his lack of combat prowess made him a safe choice. That's how she'd forced him into the role back then.
"No common ground, no connections—yet here you are at the ducal house. You couldn't refuse the summons, so you came, but you must have been worried."
Starting with empathy did the trick; Florian's eyes welled up, as expected.
With his timid nature, the stress must have been immense.
"I promise: if it's good news for you, it's good news. Nothing harmful. So relax and have some tea."
Florian, rigid as a board, extended a shaky hand to his teacup.
Giev, watching intently with those deep eyes, grabbed a handful of untouched cookies and stuffed them into his pocket.
He wasn't the sort to ignore how rude that looked—or that it might make him a laughingstock. He was far too clever for that.
But still... he wanted to bring them to his ailing sister.
So Ibel pretended not to notice, saying nothing.
Soon enough, he'd have all the cookies he could eat.
"Matthias."
Victor's low voice prompted Matthias to step forward briskly and place documents before each man.
The covers were blank, so even Ibel had no idea what the proposal contained.
"Take your time reading."
Dominik picked his up first.
The youngest of the musically renowned Silberfeld family.
Unlike his brothers, he had no artistic talent, so he'd enlisted to find his own path.
Next, Giev narrowed his eyes and scanned the contents.
Florian fumbled nervously before cautiously flipping the cover—and gasped sharply.
A moment later.
After enough time for the tea to cool.
All three stared at Ibel in unison.
'Huh...?'
Ibel, mid-sip, tilted her head.
She had no clue why they'd suddenly fixed on her.
Instead of explaining, Victor addressed them.
"What say you?"
Victor's offer was simple: become retainers to the duchess, or have one wish granted and pretend the proposal never happened.
In the broadest sense, it was another wedding gift.
"I... accept."
Dominik pondered gravely.
His life had always been overshadowed by his two older brothers. He couldn't inherit the family, nor did he have musical gifts.
He'd wanted to be a soldier, but his family opposed it fiercely.
Yet it might have suited him best—a path denied.
'But if I'm with House Bayern, even my parents couldn't object.'
His role: guard to the duchess.
He'd always seen himself as a shield. It fit perfectly.
"I accept... as well."
Florian loathed his own weakness.
He'd cried easily as a child, becoming a target for mockery.
That fueled his craving for recognition.
Not from a prominent noble house, he needed work anyway. Good pay, honorable duty—why refuse?
His role: aide to the duchess.
A perfect match.
"...You two gentlemen are nobles, correct?"
"Indeed."
"I'm a commoner. Nothing to boast of. Why me? How do you even know me?"
Unlike the other two, Giev brimmed with suspicion.
And understandably so—it made no sense.
He lived in the southern slums.
Day labor at the docks, scraping by.
That's who he was: nets all day, salt-crusted skin.
"You said I won some sponsorship, so I came... but I still don't get why you need me. And teaching me cryptography...?"
A fair question.
Giev hadn't realized his own talent yet.
In the war, he'd shown remarkable code-breaking skills.
It had saved his life more than once.
Victor had always regretted wasting that potential.
If only he'd known sooner—he'd have groomed him for intelligence work.
"When you write poetry, you love wordplay."
"...?"
"I've read all your poems. You'd excel at cryptography."
Doubt flickered across Giev's face—'Is this house run right?'
With a sigh, he nodded.
"Heal my sister, accepted or not—that's a debt. So... I accept."
And so, all three joined House Bayern.
Formally under the duchess.
Ibel's people.
"The wedding's soon—stay here. We'll fetch your sister to the estate immediately. No worries."
"Ah... thank you."
Giev bowed, exhaustion lining his face.
Soon after, the three departed.
Ibel watched Giev limp away, then turned to Victor.
"Victor, what's going on? I'm thrilled, but...?"
She'd assumed no overlap with them in this life.
Hadn't they agreed to avoid crossing paths?
"Talented folk with trustworthy character—too valuable to let slip. We've got pests in the estate already."
"..."
"Consider it a wedding gift."
Three young men added to the estate. What might happen?
The maids would buzz with energy, for one.
Versatile Giev could handle her personal tasks; Florian would organize her paperwork neatly.
He was so moral and conscientious, she could even entrust him with finances.
Dominik... who'd dare harm her with that bulk at her side?
"I don't want you hurt again, Ibel. I can't always be there, so Dominik will guard you instead."
As if reading her thoughts, Victor spoke calmly.
Her throat tightened; hesitating, she nodded.
"Um, I've been thinking about luring out the pest via telegram."
Embarrassed, she changed the subject, glancing at the fine weather outside.
"How about riding horses with the boys? Like a happy family. Anselm's old enough to learn."
"Excellent. Good for their health."
Nobles never sweated carelessly.
Exercise was the exception—and riding was most recommended.
"I'll take the children out."
"Please do."
They were busy, but they could spare this much.
She'd had riding habits tailored anyway, so Ibel donned one, tying her hair back in a single ponytail.
It felt like perfect peace would stretch on forever.
Such hunches were always wrong.