MHHC Chapter 31

Delegation

"A delegation from the Imperial Palace should arrive within a few days."

"A delegation? But why..."

"News of Grand Duke Ansgar's miraculous return has reached the Imperial Palace. They're holding a grand banquet to celebrate the victory, apparently. Since it's meant to honor Grand Duke Ansgar, you'll receive an invitation as well."

"Ah."

Adelheid nodded, but in one corner of her heart dwelled only the desire to avoid the Imperial Palace entirely. Until she turned fifteen, Count Reichenau had given her the same education as Charlotte—everything a lady of society should master: dancing and rhetoric, naturally, but also ancient languages and herbology.

Of course, Adelheid hadn't sought such education. But Charlotte constantly tormented her, calling her a maid's bastard who didn't know her place. Dragging her to small social gatherings attended by young nobles to humiliate her, or standing her nearby to force her to hear degrading remarks, or dismissing the maids and singling out Adelheid to serve—these were commonplace occurrences.

If she went to the Imperial Palace, she would inevitably confront those memories at least once.

'And of course... Father will be there too.'

At the thought of him, her heart plummeted like a stone down a well.

Count Reichenau was a father indifferent to his daughters—particularly so long as Charlotte didn't threaten Adelheid's life, he never intervened in whatever cruelties she inflicted. His attention focused exclusively on whether Adelheid displayed exceptional talent in healing or sacred power.

If she failed to improve over the previous month, terrifying corporal punishment followed. When she couldn't manifest healing or sacred power, she was locked in a freezing cell until she produced something resembling either.

If the Count hadn't abandoned his delusion that tremendous power lay dormant within Adelheid, she might never have escaped that horrific household.

The mere thought of facing those two—father and half-sister—in the near future constricted her throat like a tightening noose.

"How long will the banquet last?"

"It will extend through the victory ceremony, commemorative hunt, and ball. You should expect a week to ten days, generously estimated. The problem is..."

Padre's voice dropped even lower, as though shadows themselves absorbed the sound.

"Crown Prince Mikhail is apparently leading the organization of this entire affair. And behind him stands the Lesser Duke of Ansgar."

"The Lesser Duke—you can't mean Lord Oskar?"

Adelheid's eyes widened at this unexpected information. Padre nodded with a hardened expression.

Come to think of it, she had found it strange that someone active enough to plan her and Greta's escape had suddenly vanished. But to think he'd gone to the Imperial Palace...

"Since the Grand Duke's resurrection, rumors circulate in the capital suggesting his mind is unsound. Lord Oskar apparently fans these flames, insinuating there are problems with Lord Valentin's memory and behavior."

This revelation surprised her not at all. Oskar had always coveted his brother's position with predatory patience. Whatever modicum of respect for his brother remained had barely restrained him, kept his dark intentions concealed while he circled the periphery—but this time he'd lost that position right before his eyes. Whatever limited patience he possessed must have evaporated completely.

So naturally, he'd attached himself to the Crown Prince, who despised Grand Duke Ansgar with visceral intensity.

Padre spoke with evident concern.

"According to the succession order, Grand Duke Ansgar stands directly after Crown Prince Mikhail, doesn't he? The reason they're holding a victory banquet at this particular time is obvious... As you know, they intend to brand the Grand Duke as an incompetent ward beyond recovery before an assembly of all the nobility."

"But His Grace has no problems with cognitive function."

"At the very least, it's undeniable that his speech hasn't recovered its former acuity. Once rumors begin circulating, they become unstoppable. Public opinion will naturally form, demanding the Grand Duchy be transferred to the Lesser Duke."

Worry shadowed Padre's gentle eyes. The priest who had cared for her since early childhood bore fine wrinkles around his gaze like tributaries flowing toward some distant sea.

"So the more satisfactory things seem now, the more carefully you must observe your surroundings and prepare."

"Thank you for the warning. If it weren't for you, Father Padre, I wouldn't have known..."

"If you're truly grateful, when you come to the capital Pragma, please visit the Grand Cathedral. Though His Holiness the Pope doesn't say so, he worries greatly."

"I will."

The thought of the elderly Pope's greedy gaze made her entire body feel frozen, but Adelheid merely nodded without revealing her discomfort. As Adelheid descended from Padre's carriage, the driver immediately cracked his whip across the horse's flank. The long procession of priests began filing out of Ansgar Castle.

Adelheid watched the procession until her nose turned red from the cold, then finally pulled her cape higher and turned back toward the castle.

"Brrr... it's cold, so cold. Your Grace, shall I prepare tea in the drawing room?"

Yanik took Adelheid's outer garments while asking with familiar warmth. Margaret, following behind Adelheid, sent Yanik a reproving glance at his casual manner—though she seemed to agree with the suggestion itself.

Margaret gently urged, "You might catch cold. Perhaps you should have a glass of warmed wine with honey."

The weather had indeed grown considerably colder. When Valentin returned, it had been early winter; this morning, frost began forming on the garden shrubs.

Though it melted almost instantly when the sun rose, in the rear garden where sunlight rarely penetrated, unmelted frost lay thick in every shadow. Adelheid gazed out the window and replied, "I'll have tea a bit later. More importantly, I'd like to see His Grace... Where is he?"

"Still at the training ground. He seems to be enjoying sparring with the knights after so long. Shall I guide you there?"

"Yes. Please do."

Adelheid nodded readily. She'd been bothered by how hastily she'd ended her conversation with Valentin this morning while seeing Padre off. Since they were in the same boat now, she thought only of aligning their stories more thoroughly.

Besides, if Padre's words held true, the victory banquet at the Imperial Palace loomed immediately ahead.

'The stammer can't be helped, but his etiquette must be perfect.'

Naturally, the Dragon of Bitzleben wouldn't be well-versed in human etiquette. So a little expedient maneuvering was necessary. The most effective way to mask insufficient etiquette was to dress in the latest fashions—armor woven from fabric and vanity.

Though Adelheid herself had acquired sufficient clothing these past few days, Valentin's wardrobe for standing beside the Emperor absolutely required new tailoring. Having spent the last three years exclusively on battlefields, his clothing situation was probably as dire as hers had been.

"Yanik, could you tell Hermann I need to discuss several matters with him?"

"Of course. I'll take you to the training ground and run straight to the head butler. Oh, watch your step. The ground that was frozen has already thawed—it's turned into a complete mud pit."

Adelheid grasped Yanik's offered hand and hopped over a mud puddle. As they approached the training ground, boisterous voices grew increasingly clamorous—sounds that resembled both groans and cheers simultaneously.

Everyone seemed intensely excited about something.

'Are they placing bets?'

Beyond the high wooden palisade, the training ground's interior became visible. Even among the swarming mass of knights, she could identify Valentin at a glance.

He stood holding a wooden sword in one hand, facing off against a burly knight. Around them sprawled knights who'd stripped to the waist, utterly exhausted. Steam rose in wispy columns from their sweat-soaked torsos like breath made visible.

"Oh lord..."

Seeing this, Yanik released a long sigh. Margaret spoke coldly, "It appears we'll need a great deal of warmed wine."

Margaret's expression was formidable—she clearly considered all the knights nothing but idiots overflowing with excess vigor. Indeed, when illness swept through the barracks, the servants tending them were the ones who suffered.

Adelheid glanced sideways at Valentin repeatedly. Just days ago his gait had been clumsy, yet now his sword-wielding stance looked genuinely competent.

'I know nothing about swordsmanship, but... I can tell he's overflowing with confidence.'

By contrast, the knight facing Valentin appeared tense and intimidated. The cause seemed to be that everyone who preceded him had been thoroughly defeated. The knight, who'd been circling with sidesteps like a raptor stalking prey, suddenly roared a battle cry and charged.

The terrifying speed startled Adelheid. Though he wielded a blunted blade, it looked less like sparring and more like a genuine attempt at mutual annihilation. But Valentin didn't even raise an eyebrow, deflecting the knight's attack with effortless grace. Rather than meeting the sword head-on, he seemed to utilize the blade's flat somehow.

Valentin's sword moved like a living serpent, coiling around the knight's weapon to neutralize the attack. Even to Adelheid's ignorant eyes, it looked like miraculous sleight of hand. The knights erupted with sounds that could have been groans or hollow laughter—impossible to distinguish.

"Haa..."

In the brief time she watched, their blades clashed several more times at tremendous speed. While the knight's sword couldn't even graze Valentin's hem, Valentin grew increasingly relaxed with each passing moment.

The knight, growing impatient as his attacks were repeatedly blocked, made a hasty weight-committed strike.

Valentin dodged the attack with a mere twist of his torso, then flicked his sword-hand sharply upward. With the pommel he struck down hard on the wrist of the staggering, off-balance knight.

"Ugh!"

The wooden sword the knight had been clutching rolled across the ground with hollow thunk, thunk sounds.

"......"

Silence descended over the watching crowd like snow falling from a windless sky.