Vestaert nodded along. “Even if it wasn’t love at first sight, Kenntrips was surely charmed by her adorableness. I assume Rasantark felt the same when he first saw her.”
“Not at all,” I retorted, shaking my head. “I just thought, ‘Huh, she’s as normal as they come.’”
“What?!” Kenntrips exclaimed. “That’s a bald-faced lie!”
“It’s not. I didn’t find her especially cute.”
Kenntrips had spoken about Lady Hannelore with such a goofy ear-to-ear grin that I had assumed she was someone truly special. Upon actually meeting her, however, I had found she was just a regular girl.
In retrospect, my reaction had probably stemmed from feeling that I was in competition with Lady Hannelore, fighting for Kenntrips’s attention, but she hadn’t seemed at all cute to me. Nothing about her had explained why my friend adored her so much.
Whenever we played together in the northern building’s garden, Lord Lestilaut would inevitably end up leaving Lady Hannelore behind. She would start to sob, and Kenntrips would console her as though it were a matter of course.
I remember wishing he would ignore her, and play with us as he’d always used to.
In the end, I would give them no more than a glance before chasing Lord Lestilaut as best I could. I never stood a chance of catching up to him—the three years that separated us gave him too great an advantage, especially at that age—but I enjoyed it nonetheless. It was my first time playing with a boy other than Kenntrips.
“I came to appreciate Lord Lestilaut for playing with me long before I developed any feelings for Lady Hannelore, who seemed to cry at every chance she got,” I said. “I remember thinking she’d have a hard time getting anything done in those frilly clothes she used to wear.”
Upon hearing my response—which was my honest opinion, might I add—everyone around me burst into laughter. “Classic Rasantark,” one said. I was tempted to ask them what they meant by that.
“When did you start fancying her, Rasantark?”
“It was before my baptism, but not by much. Maybe just before I turned six.”
“So it was before you were baptized,” Vestaert said, looking eager. “Do you remember what started it?”
I thought back. As well as being a chance to socialize, our family meetings had served as an excellent opportunity to see who would make a good retainer for Lord Lestilaut. Our parents and the archducal couple had watched us to see how well we meshed together, then debated who was best suited to being a knight, an attendant, or a scholar.
In the lead-up to our baptisms, when we had to decide on our courses, we participated in archduke candidate training ourselves. I had been working hard to pass the knight selection, so I couldn’t wait.
Of course, the training had extended to all archduke candidates, meaning Lady Hannelore had taken part as well. She had seemed so small that I found it hard to believe we were the same age, and—true to her nature—she had broken down in tears whenever she and her brother were apart. I had doubted she would make it through the training.
“Waaah... Bweeeh...”
“Lady Hannelore, would you like to stop for the day?”
Yeah, I remember. I saw her crying on the ground and assumed that was it. But then, surpassing my expectations, Lady Hannelore wiped away her tears and stood.
“No...” she had said. “I need to press on.”
Despite her sobs, Lady Hannelore refused to give up. She repeated the technique over and over again, determined to do it as instructed.
“This will be your last attempt.”
“Understood!”
Lady Hannelore corrected her posture and slowly lowered her hips. She spun the stick in her hands, stopped, then brought her back foot forward as she stepped into a powerful thrust. Her hips then dropped again as she drew her foot back and swung the stick in a downward slam. She had successfully executed the technique.
“Excellent work.”
A few words of praise later, the instructor had announced the end of training. Lady Hannelore had met the compliment with a proud, beaming smile, and at that moment...
Ah. She’s beautiful.
Lady Crybaby had vanished, replaced with someone I almost didn’t recognize. Her talent with weaponry far exceeded my own; while my technique depended on brute force, hers was so elegant that it burned into my mind the moment I saw it. She had developed a fighting style meant to compensate for her small stature, and she kept her head high as if determined to keep her enemy in sight. So stunning was the figure she cut that I still remembered my instructor scolding me for not paying attention.
Not that I would tell the others.
“I refuse to answer,” I said. “My words are for her ears only. I’d rather she hear the unadulterated version from me than the butchered mess any of you would pass along.”
Vestaert raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Is that so? Well, good luck with that.”
I was unsure what he meant—at least until Gulaheld clapped me on the back. “So you’re going to confess with her retainers all watching?” he asked. “Yeah—good luck.”
I could already imagine it—Cordula and Lady Hannelore’s other retainers glaring at me with their guards up. No matter what sweet words I whispered, I would never be able to create a romantic atmosphere in their presence.
“Ngh... I want to speak with Lady Hannelore alone!” I cried. “How can her retainers be so defensive when the aub chose me as her suitor?! They’re actively interfering!”
“If you want to get close to an archduke candidate, then her retainers’ help is indispensable,” Vestaert said. “That you have no allies among them speaks purely to your own incompetence.”
I ground my teeth, unable to argue.
“Perhaps not,” Codenest interjected, attempting to mediate. “Lady Hannelore’s retainers are especially uncooperative, owing to that whole mess with our bride-stealing ditter match.”
“I understand that much,” I said. “Lady Hannelore’s guard knights are defensive because they are loyal to her and committed to their duties. Still, as a suitor who can’t even meet with his potential partner, I’ve got every right to be annoyed. Don’t I, Kenntrips?”
I turned to him, counting on his support, only to receive a noncommittal smile. “To resolve the current situation, I believe Lady Hannelore must first come to terms with her emotions,” he said, speaking as though he knew exactly how she felt. “Her retainers are only so cautious because she is protecting her thoughts and keeping us at arm’s length.”
“And you’re just going to let that continue?” I asked, my frustration bubbling to the surface. “Letting her ‘come to terms with her emotions’ means letting her meet with that craven Lord Wilfried. What will you do if she turns this peace on its head and starts on another rampage to marry into Ehrenfest?!”