TMWDS Chapter 6

"Gods, put an honorific on it, please... you're gonna get your neck cut for talking like that."

"What filthy scheme is our 'esteemed' Crown Prince cooking up now, I wonder? You know anything?"

"...Just tacking on an honorific doesn't make it polite, you know."

Faced with her subordinate's unhelpful attitude, Saschia finally lost her patience and shot up out of her chair.

"I mean, doesn't it seem strange to you? Why would he suddenly marry off a woman he's kept glued to his side like some security blanket, dragging her everywhere he goes. If he actually wanted Ionna to have a real shot at being a proper Duchess, he'd be prepping her for retirement too—but I haven't gotten a single order about that."

Saschia rattled off the doubt she'd been carrying around in her head the whole time.

Theobald, apparently unable to fully process the question that had flown by so quickly, made a bewildered face.

"...Isn't it just—Knight Ionna's worked under His Highness for so long, so he's making sure she's set up for a good life as thanks?"

A good life, was it.

On the surface it might look like some grand success story of a life transformed, but reality wasn't nearly so forgiving.

There was no way the Duke, standing as he did as the figurehead of the noble faction, would gladly welcome the Emperor's dog into his household. This marriage had its tragedy written in advance.

"Forget it. You tactless little shit."

Saschia clicked her tongue with something between pity and exasperation, and Theobald could only let his eyes roam nervously around the room.

Saschia found herself genuinely worried about this naive subordinate's future.

It had been quite some time since Rihardt had frequented the palace he'd occupied as Crown Prince, but the path was so deeply worn into her body that Ionna never once lost her way.

Having safely arrived, Ionna exchanged light nods with the fellow knights waiting in the corridor.

She stepped into the room, and Louisa, who happened to be nearby, hurried over toward her.

Louisa was Rihardt's dedicated attendant, and naturally, she and Ionna were already well acquainted.

"Oh dear, Knight Ionna. His Highness has only just fallen asleep. Would you like to wait here, or come back another time?"

Louisa asked, clearly at a loss.

Just as Louisa had said, Rihardt lay stretched out lazily on a long chaise, eyes closed.

Ionna waved Louisa off and walked slowly toward Rihardt. Then, in a low voice, she asked politely:

"If you're very tired, shall I come back later?"

Rihardt didn't stir. Ionna simply waited, patiently, for a good while.

After a long stretch had passed, Rihardt finally spoke.

"My knight is impatient enough to disturb even her master's nap."

"My apologies."

She knew perfectly well he'd been awake from the start, but rather than point it out, Ionna simply bowed her head and apologized.

Only then did Rihardt open his eyes and slowly sit up.

Just as Ionna had expected, not the faintest trace of sleepiness showed on him.

As he shifted his posture, his hair had come loose in a way that seemed to bother him, and he raised a hand to sweep it back from his forehead.

His hair, gold as thread, poured down like a wave—strikingly beautiful.

But even that was plain compared to the face it revealed underneath.

His face was made entirely of lines that seemed to have been drawn, one by one, with the Creator's utmost care.

It was the common consensus that his looks had played no small part in gathering him such an unusual number of devoted followers even before his coronation.

"That reminds me, I heard a rumor that you broke Nils's front teeth."

Rihardt said, almost in passing, as he adjusted his loosened outer robe.

He hadn't given her permission to lift her head, so Ionna remained bowed.

Grateful, if nothing else, that she didn't have to meet his eyes, Ionna answered curtly.

"A baseless rumor."

Rihardt clearly had no intention of letting the matter drop. This time his voice took on a more coercive edge.

"Tell me the truth, Ionna. That's an order."

This was the one thing Ionna had never been able to resist.

He hadn't been the master she would have chosen for herself, but whatever he ordered, Ionna carried it out.

Her loyalty, if anything, ran even more blind than that of those who'd joined his service by choice.

Having spent so long confined and alone, Ionna had struggled badly when it came time to fold herself into society.

She'd never properly been taught what was right and what was wrong, and so she'd never been able to trust her own judgment on much of anything.

Rihardt, on the other hand, always made exactly what he wanted from her perfectly clear. As long as she did as he said, she was recognized as someone society had a place for.

The moment she suspended her own judgment and handed her body over to another's command, life had, if anything, become simpler.

The loyalty Ionna paid Rihardt was, for that reason, an intensely personal and selfish thing. Just as her master had used her for his own convenience, she had used him in order to survive.

Because of that, Ionna had never once expected repayment or looked for meaning in it—but right now, this once, there was something she wanted to ask him.

When the Duke walked into a killing field to save a wife he had no need for, where were you, and what were you doing.

Did you fail to save me. Or did you simply choose not to.

"He struck me first, so I hit him once, on the jaw, to return the favor. That's all there was to it."

Swallowing the disrespectful question, Ionna answered dutifully.

Rihardt studied her for a moment, as if verifying the truth of it, then said shortly, "Look up," and let it drop.

Then he asked something she hadn't expected at all.

"What was the fight about? Was it over the marriage arrangement with the Duke?"

The confrontation had been sparked by something else entirely, and Ionna found herself thrown off balance by the unexpected line of questioning.

When her usual quick answer failed to come, Rihardt seemed to draw a conclusion from that alone.

Rihardt rose abruptly, reaching out to brush his hand lightly across Ionna's bruised left cheek.

His manner was dry and unreadable. When his hand fell away just as abruptly as it had come, it left behind hardly any warmth at all.

Rihardt looked down at her and said, with an air of practiced generosity:

"Ionna. If it isn't what you want, this marriage can still be called off."

His voice sounded, for all the world, sincere.

But Ionna already knew the answer to this test. This wasn't the first time he'd asked her that particular question.

'Ionna. If it isn't what you want, this engagement can still be undone.'

Before her return to the past, Rihardt had said the same thing at roughly this same point in time.

The time and place had been slightly different, but she remembered his expression, his voice, the look in his eyes as he watched her, being much the same.

Ionna had been caught off guard that first time too, but she'd quickly worked out what he was really after.

He'd been trying to test her loyalty.

'Whatever pleases Your Highness is what I want.'

Ionna had pressed a hand to her chest and bowed her head deeply.

Because of that, she hadn't seen his expression—but the satisfaction in his voice, when it came a long moment later, had been unmistakable.

'That's right. You've always been that way. And you'll only ever follow my word, from here on too. Nothing's going to change. Isn't that so?'

'Of course.'

What had he said, in answer to her confident vow?

'Congratulations on your marriage, Ionna.'

Rihardt, that time, had graciously offered her his blessing.

But the answer Ionna intended to give him this time would come out a little differently.

"No—that's all right."

Judging that her answer needed more, Ionna added, briefly: "Actually—I'm quite fond of my intended."

At those words, the corner of Rihardt's mouth went faintly rigid.

For a moment he said nothing at all, only studying her face.

At last, his eyes twisted faintly at the corners, and he said:

"It's a relief to hear this isn't a forced marriage, then."

There was nothing untrue in what he'd said, so Ionna simply stayed silent.

Rihardt turned his head away from her, staring for a long while somewhere out toward the window.

She had no idea why, but it was clear her answer had put him in a worse mood. In truth, that was fairly unusual.

Before long, Rihardt dismissed her, curtly.

"That's enough. You may go."

"Wasn't there something you wished to command me?"

"Your future husband was scheduled to visit here today. I'd thought to have the two of you properly introduced, but..."

Rihardt's eyes flicked, just briefly, toward the bruise still marking Ionna's face.

"You can hardly show a face like that at a first meeting. Especially now that you're so taken with the other party."

Had the Duke already arrived in the capital, then?

It was true he'd met with the Crown Prince before he'd met her, but she'd never once been present for any of their meetings.

Why was Rihardt saying things he clearly didn't mean?

Unable to work out the reason, Ionna decided simply to withdraw, cleanly.

She was disappointed not to be able to see the Duke right away, but with the Crown Prince present, any real conversation would have been out of the question regardless.

"Then I will take my leave."

Ionna bowed properly and turned to go.