The Gaihandar Empire had a bloody history, as it was formed by absorbing countless neighboring countries. It had originally been a group of small nations now only known as “the old empire.” But the families who had been awarded high status during those days were still around in the form of the noble faction, many of them clinging stubbornly to the same old political beliefs and wishing for the return of the empire’s golden days.
Military families, on the other hand, were most often descended from common folk who had been given titles during the empire’s many wars. Byletta’s family was no different. Despite their rank, most nobles of this sort were considered upstarts with short family histories. This put them—the military faction—directly at odds with the noble faction.
Even though Count Swangan’s family was of old noble stock, their history of military service suggested they leaned less toward the noble faction than most.
“Ha-ha-ha! You are a strange one! To think my new daughter-in-law would propose a divorce on the very day she joined my family… I suppose that means you aren’t just a social climber?”
“Not at all. I am merely someone who happened to meet the conditions your son laid out—conditions that seemed to seek someone more soldier than wife.”
“What do you mean by that…?”
Count Swangan’s bewilderment was understandable, but Byletta was even more confused. Why would this husband she had never even seen need his wife to be fearless and courageous? It was a mystery. And she knew that if she answered the count’s question straightforwardly, he would only laugh at her.
“In any case, let’s return to my original request.”
Alas, ordering the count to drink in moderation elicited the laughter Byletta had been trying to avoid. Meanwhile, the servants, housekeeper, and Cynthia—who appeared unsure how to react—looked on like they were all witnessing something earth-shattering.
For a while, all that could be heard were the echoes of the count’s roaring laughter.
A few days had passed since the night of Byletta and Count Swangan’s battle.
The count’s reliance on alcohol seemed to be a thing of the past. After being thoroughly beaten by Byletta in their duel, he hadn’t drunk a drop.
Instead, he filled his days with sparring. Seemingly frustrated by his loss to a young woman, he’d taken to training hard. He would approach Byletta for a rematch quite frequently.
Even though the count’s technique had dulled somewhat with age, now that he was no longer inebriated, he made a formidable foe. What often began as a war of words soon turned into a clash of swords out in the garden. It seemed, to Byletta’s surprise, that she and the count had formed a rather strange connection.
Life was nearly the same as it had been back at home. Shockingly, she found it almost more pleasant. With her husband absent, Byletta could do almost whatever she pleased—and so she did, whiling away the days carefree.
More than anything, she was content there.
Now and then, as Byletta walked the corridors, she would catch a glimpse of a certain young girl timidly peeking out from behind a door. The fear in her gaze seemed to have been replaced with a childlike curiosity.
“Um, excuse me, Sister…”
Those words were all it took to steal Byletta’s heart.
The way the girl spoke was slightly awkward, likely because she wasn’t used to holding conversations. She seemed even more childlike than her years would suggest. Regardless, Byletta found that having such a sweet young child call her “sister” while gazing at her so lovingly was a delightful feeling.
“What is it?” Byletta asked in the gentlest tone she could manage. She smiled at the girl.
The child’s pale cheeks flushed pink as she looked timidly up through her eyelashes at her new sister-in-law. It seemed Byletta’s attempt to look friendly and harmless had been successful.
“Can I call you Letta?”
“Of course! Can I call you Milena?”
“Yes!”
Byletta’s heart warmed at the sight of the grin spreading across her new sister’s face. So far, married life wasn’t half bad. And since her husband wouldn’t be returning for the foreseeable future, continuing to live at the Swangan estate seemed quite a viable option.
However, one problem hanging over the household was far more serious than Byletta had ever suspected.
The little girl in front of her was the offspring of the fifty-six-year-old count and Cynthia, who was, as Byletta had assumed, the man’s much younger second wife. That Cynthia was a mere thirty years of age meant she was not much older than the count’s son, Arnald. And while that was relatively common when it came to arranged marriages among the nobility, this situation had arisen from Count Swangan’s habit of doing whatever he wanted. After gaining himself a second bride by force—Cynthia was only twenty at the time and the daughter of a poor baron—the count had then pushed the son he’d had with his first wife out of the family home so that he could be free to indulge in whatever vices he pleased. Primarily, this had amounted to alcohol and violence.
As for Arnald, he had apparently joined the Officer’s Academy at fifteen and now only visited the family residence on rare occasions. Since the academy had dormitories, it hadn’t been difficult for him to stay away from home during his time there. And once he’d graduated, Arnald had been granted a space to live in by the military. After that, no one in the family knew where he’d gone, but his absence meant Cynthia and Milena were entirely without protection.
Many of the household staff feared that the count would kill his wife and daughter one day, but none could defy his authority, let alone restrain the man—no matter how rusty he’d become since retiring, he’d still once been an imperial soldier. It had been a tense period for the entire household.
Or at least that was what Byletta had been able to piece together from her conversations with House Swangan’s staff and the butler, Donovan.
When Byletta had first admonished and crossed swords with the count in the dining room, the staff had all feared a bloodbath. But now that the matter had been settled peacefully, they had come to be grateful to her. For Byletta, who had grown up being constantly admonished for her uncontrollable tomboy nature and lack of femininity, it was a joyful thing to finally be praised and appreciated for her true nature.