The Crybaby of House Edfolk (2)
Yulia Edfolk, only just past ten, lived days as gentle as nameless wildflowers blooming beside a lake.
"Papa, hold out your hand! Your hand!"
"Hmm? And what is my little girl plotting?"
"Hehe. Just a moment."
Yulia's small, plump fingers worked busily, and when she was finished a ring of snow-white baby's breath circled his index finger.
"How very pretty."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"I want to make one for Mama, too."
"All right. But it has to go on the very same finger, understand?"
"Okay!"
Moments like flowers gathered into a day that was itself a flower field, and those days spilled over, each in its own color. Yulia filled every one of them, faithfully, with hues that were warm and easy.
In those days, aside from the mornings when her tutor taught her etiquette and the refinements a noble child was expected to know, she slept when she wished and ate whatever she wanted, as much as she pleased. The Yulia of that time was plump enough that anyone who met her later would have found her difficult to picture.
In the hours left over she picked flowers in the manor garden, sometimes played hide-and-seek with the maids, and—navy hair streaming all the way to her waist—tore through the house at the head of her little siblings. A childhood like that was anything but ordinary for a noble's daughter. It was, in truth, rather outrageous. Most children of her station were already attending the schools called noble schools to prepare for the Academy, or else enduring a homeschooling schedule far stricter and more tightly packed than any school.
Yulia was free to grow up that way because her father, Deschamps, weary of war, wanted at least this one daughter to live a life far removed from fierce striving and competition. His wife, Karen, did not entirely share that view of education. Even so, Deschamps could remain in the Imperial Capital far longer than she, a knight, ever could, and the children clung to him more than to her, so she had left the upbringing of Yulia and the others entirely in his hands. She, too, hoped they would be spared the hardships she and her husband had known.
That peaceful life lasted until the victory commemoration ball, held as spring turned toward summer that year.
At least until then.
Wearing a silk dress for the first time in her life, Yulia sat in the carriage wound tighter with nerves than she had ever been. Today would be the first time she showed her face at a gathering of the nobility. Her ivory silk, chosen to match her hair, bore at the breast a silver flower brooch the maids had selected, and her long hair had been brushed until a soft sheen ran down it. That only made her more anxious. Had she been allowed her way, she would have brought Bunny, the rabbit doll she always slept hugging, but her tutor, Hanbert, had forbidden it so firmly that she had no choice but to leave the doll lying neatly on the bed.
She swung her legs for no reason at all and kept wetting lips that would not stay moist. Deschamps, seated beside her, set to rights the ribbon in her long hair and spoke in a warm voice.
"You don't have to be so frightened, my girl."
"It's my first ball this large, so I got nervous. I'm... sorry."
"There will be plenty of children your age. Let's see... Julbert and Rachel, the ones you met last time, ought to be there."
"Julbert. Rachel..."
She had seen them at another noble child's birthday party, and the sight of them had shrunk her for no good reason. Talk never quite connected, and they had treated her the way she treated her younger siblings. They really had spoken far more maturely than she could.
Hearing their names set her heart trembling harder. She pressed her index fingers together and asked in a timid voice.
"...Do you think they'll like me?"
Deschamps looked at her with open fondness, smiled, and gently took her hand.
"Haha. And who could possibly dislike you? You're this cute, this lovable!"
"Papa..."
Overcome, Yulia buried herself against him, and he stroked her back with a warm hand.
"Yulia, try to be the one who steps forward first. If you offer them the distance, the other children will be able to come to you."
"Distance."
"Yes. I shouldn't be the one to say it, but your mother and I are both rather extraordinary people."
Deschamps of the Six Great Mages, and her mother, spoken of as one of the Four Swords... She had heard that renown from countless mouths already, and for the first time since climbing into the carriage she managed a confident smile.
"Yes! This time I'll make lots and lots of friends!"
"Good. I'd like that very much. You may invite them home. Just don't forget what your father has told you."
"I won't!"
A little later Yulia entered the ballroom with her father's hand clasped tight, and she could only stare, mouth hanging open. Men and women of every age moved through the hall in splendid dress, smiling as they went, and a dazzling feast that pleased both eye and nose covered the tables. Along the walls hung the crests of the houses in attendance, and at the very center was the banner bearing the white swan of House Edfolk.
Yulia's face lit up. She tugged at her father's hand and pointed.
"Papa, it's our house's swan!"
"Haha. So it is. They've hung it right in the middle."
Swollen with pride, she soon found well-dressed nobles drifting over one after another to pay their respects to Deschamps.
"Duke Deschamps! You've come."
"Yes. It's been some time, Duke Mels."
"Has Duchess Karen gone on campaign again?"
"She has."
"Ah, I see! I had hoped I might see her this time. And who might this lovely young lady be?"
For an instant the middle-aged man's gaze turned to Yulia. She hesitated, flustered, and Deschamps introduced her before she could find her tongue.
"Our eldest, Yulia."
"Oh, indigo—the very color of Your Grace's hair. Truly adorable. And such exceptionally fine hair!"
"Haha. You should have seen how Yulia fussed over coming to the ball. The maids had their hands full brushing her hair."
Deschamps laughed with easy grace, and only then did Yulia remember what she had learned in her etiquette lessons. Awkward as it was, she bent at the waist.
"Hello. I am Yulia Edfolk. Thank you for the compliment!"
"And what a proper greeting! Lady Yulia, I am Mels Russell, lord of Greenhorn, a city near the Imperial Capital."
From Mels onward, countless hands brushed her in passing, soft as the way she petted Bunny. Before she knew it the tightness had eased, and a smile came to rest at her lips.
By the time Deschamps had exchanged greetings with about half the hall, Mels—the first to have approached them—spoke to him with care.
"Duke Deschamps, might we speak of business for a moment, if it isn't an inconvenience?"
"Ah, of course. Yulia will..."
"There is a room set aside for the children. I'll have my maid show her the way."
"Thank you for the trouble. Yulia, you must play nicely, all right? Marchen, you should go with her."
"Yes!"
"If you all get along, Papa will bring you candy."
"Okay!"
At the word candy her face brightened at once, and she set off for the side room with the maid, all expectation. Mels watched her go with satisfaction, then spoke to Deschamps in a lowered voice.
"I can sense mana about Yulia. She must be taking lessons in magic."
"We've had her try this and that, if only lightly. She seems better suited to magic."
"Another way she takes after Your Grace! You're not giving her a knight's education? She might become a great swordswoman, like Lady Karen of the Four Swords."
"Haha. Karen dislikes the idea. We ought to be going."
The two of them made for a meeting room prepared within the hall. By then Yulia had arrived before the door of the side room where the children were gathered. She was taut with nerves, and Marchen spoke to her in a gentle voice.
"It will be all right, my lady."
"Okay!"
Yulia answered with spirit and stepped inside. At once the eyes of children her own age, all of them splendidly dressed, swung toward her. She had made her resolution, and she had promised her father she would play nicely, but under those stares she faltered. Julbert, already there, came over first and greeted her as someone he knew.
"If it isn't Yulia of House Edfolk."
"Hello..."
She returned the greeting awkwardly, and Julbert turned to present her to the room.
"This is Yulia, the eldest daughter of that House Edfolk."
"Whoa. The Six Great Mages and the Four Swords..."
When the children looked at her with envy, Yulia, little by little, began to find her ease. After that Julbert pointed to the ones standing nearby, one after another, introducing them as if showing them off.
"Here's Bering of House Ropert, and Havre. The big one beside them is Rokan. And the one sitting over there is Rachel, from last time."
At the sound of her name, Rachel—tall enough that it was hard to believe she was Yulia's age—turned her head with a thoroughly unimpressed look. Something about that look made Yulia shrink. Carefully, she lifted a hand in that direction.
"Ah... hello..."
"The chubby one with the long hair from last time. Hi."
Rachel, perched on a desk over her book, said that much and returned her eyes to the page. Even so, Yulia thought the greeting had gone well enough, and counted herself fortunate. Then her gaze traveled farther off, to a cluster of children gathered apart and stealing glances their way.
"Who are they...?"
"Oh, them? Their parents only received noble titles a little while ago."
To be young is to be able to cut a thing short without malice. Those children did not look pleased by what Julbert had said, but they could not offer so much as a word of protest to Julbert Mertios—the one who had arranged this ball, and the youngest scion of House Mertios, one of the Four Great Families.
"The brown-haired one is Yelich, and the one behind is a child called Bore, of House Hersi—"
Julbert named them one by one from the front. Among them, dark-brown-haired Yelich was staring straight at Yulia, lips pressed tight. The look was so sharp that Yulia dropped her eyes before she knew what she was doing. Then the words her father had given her rose again in her mind.
Remembering them, she decided to be brave.
If I say hello first, she'll definitely say hello back. She's probably only like that because she's awkward!
Thinking so, Yulia edged quietly toward Yelich. Julbert and Bering, who had been beside her, tilted their heads and watched her go. Drawing close with care, Yulia managed, with some difficulty, to lift the corners of her mouth, and held out her hand.
"Hi. I'm Yulia. You're Yelich, right?"
"......"
Yelich said nothing at all, and only stared. It was not what Yulia had expected, and she could only look back in confusion.
"......"
"Yelich?"
The flustered question came out close to tears, and the faces of Julbert and Bering, who had been watching, hardened at once. A book shut with a flat snap. Rachel spoke toward Yelich in a clear, cutting voice.
"Yelich of House Serge."
"Yes, Lady Rachel."
"What do you think you're doing?"
Rachel's voice drove in sharp. Someone frowned, as if trouble had started; other children were smiling, as if something entertaining had just begun.