Lost In Character: Transmigration Chronicles Of A Nameless Heroine 27 Resolve

She strode past the entrance like an arrow released by accident, one that had a granite wall as its unintended target. But there truly was one final obstacle in her path.

"Child," called someone.

The somber voice that belonged to a much older man brought her up short again. It made her lift her gaze, which, before that moment, had been trained on the ground, looking at nothing except where next to place her feet.

A familiar pair of dark eyes – large and slightly drooping at the corners – met her sight. Due to age and to all that life kept putting him through, these eyes were more lined than the ones Hilde was used to seeing.

"Lord General…" she said, voice barely audible. Because of the House's high ceiling and largely empty interior, however, it echoed.

Lothar's father tilted his head to one side, a trace of humor in his quirked mouth. "So formal, Princess?"

The next breath that Hilde drew in hitched in her throat.

"Uncle…"

Before she knew what she meant to do, she had crossed the handful of paces that separated the two of them. For the first time these last handful of days, she gave free rein to all the grief and pain she'd been carrying, though perhaps it was more accurate to say that the control had been wrenched away from her hands.

Face pressed against Lord Alfwin's shoulder, the young woman sobbed her heart out and released all her pent-up rage. The sounds of her wordless agony were m.u.f.fled, yet at the same time, they were amplified by the thick windowless walls that enclosed five biers arranged in a semi-circle.

"Did you know, my dear?" the Lord began. One of his arms was around Hilde's violently shaking shoulders, his left hand rested on the crown of her head. He made no attempt to make soothing gestures, knowing perhaps how useless they would be. In a reflective tone, he went on, "Next to my children's pa.s.sing while I live, this situation is the realization of one of my worst fears." He paused and slackened his hold on Hilde, prompting her to raise her face so he could see it. Lord Alfwin's expression hardened and he shook his head. "My son has truly ended up making you cry," he said. "And now I have three good reasons not to forgive him."

Hilde did not need to ask what the other two were.

He had failed to protect the Prince he was sworn to – that was the first.

The second was dying on top of that failure.

Lothar was undeniably guilty of these offenses, and there was no use trying to protest Lord Alfwin's harsh judgment. She knew, he gave it both as a father and as a general.

The third offense, she could do something about. There were few enough things she could still give the man she idolized and adored; she let him off from the inconsequential crime of breaking her heart.

Drawing once again from the skills of her former ident.i.ty, Hilde forced her tears to stop.

Seeing this and understanding her intent, Lord Alfwin actually let out a weak chuckle.

"Even when Lothar was alive, I could not quite believe that he deserved your devotion as a student, much less your budding affections as a woman." Smiling in reminiscence, the Lord cupped Hilde's face and used his thumbs to wipe at her tears. "It was but the jest of two drunk fathers that had brought the two of you together. You asked the King for a sword and a teacher, and I happened to have been thinking that my so-called genius son could use a more difficult challenge. One he will not master in short order."

Lord Alfwin released Hilde, resting his hands on her shoulders instead. He then surprised her by laughing again, and more heartily.

"He saw the task of teaching you as his first mission as a soldier, and you – you proved to be everything I could have hoped for. Lothar at twelve did not know how to handle your four-year-old self, and the man he was at twenty-four was hardly any better. That my son had managed to reach maturity at all with his character only slightly twisted, that was your doing, Princess. And now I freely admit, despite his many inadequacies, I did secretly harbor the hope that I might one day call you daughter."

Without a certain veteran actress' help, Hilde would have ended up crying again at any given point during Lord General Alfwin's speech. As it was, all she could do throughout was smile wistfully as her own memories of the years they spent together surfaced in her mind – from when they were children to the last time they ever saw each other.

It took Hilde a few tries before she could get herself to speak. "He said he had something to tell me," she said, daring to hope despite knowing how useless her longed-for answer would be, now. "Before he left for the northern border, he hinted that I should look forward to finally coming of age…"

Lothar had known how much she actually dreaded that time. While they were both underage, the two of them "playing" was so relatively normal that it soon became unremarkable. But when the older boy's sixteenth birthday drew closer, Lord Alfwin himself had advised them to be circ.u.mspect about their sporadic lessons if they didn't want them stopped altogether.

Natural troublemakers both, they chose to continue in secrecy. By herself, Hilde had continued to practice in the open, but she and Lothar never again appeared in public together – at least, not while they were holding weapons.

Just what should she look forward to after her own sixteenth birthday? Could it have been an end to all the sneaking around? Given who else knew or suspected besides the Royal Physician and Lothar's friends, their efforts had not been effective anyway, but if not about that, she couldn't see how it would still matter, whatever "it" was.

There was only one might-have-been that Hilde would welcome, and Lord Alfwin seemed to have understood this because he showed her a pitying smile.

"I'm afraid I have no clear knowledge of what had been in my son's heart," he told her gently. Of course, the admission was no less crus.h.i.+ng despite his care. "His mind was an equally complex mystery, but that, at least, I could understand at times." The Lord drew in a deep breath that strongly hinted of regret. Then he revealed, "Princess, Lothar wanted you to receive formal training as a military officer."

Hilde stared, her lips parted. This was news to her, and it was indeed something she would have looked forward to – very much so.

But Lord Alfwin was not done with the surprises.

"Prince Dieter had agreed," he went on, making his listener's breathing stop. "He meant to convince the Queen to allow it after you're of age."

Hilde covered her mouth with a trembling hand. Her wide-open eyes stared at the Lord in utter disbelief. And just as she had no control over her shaking, she could not find the appropriate switch that could stop the surge of new emotions that this revelation had triggered.

The older man nodded slowly. "Spare your brother a tear, child. The heavens knew he bore you no tenderness – that was his failing as a human. As a commander?" Lord Alfwin smiled. As he continued to speak, he stepped to one side to clear the way forward for her. "He recognized the potential you possessed, your gender and his personal feelings notwithstanding. You might not have realized, Princess Hilde: Lothar could not have continued teaching you if his liege lord had not allowed it."

She found it unfair that she should only know the better side of someone after they were gone. As she walked past the Lord, Hilde thought: this was her brother she was approaching. It was the son of her mother and father lying on that center bier, cold for how many days, killed while performing his duty as a Prince of Arnica.

Truthfully, she did not know if she could cry for him despite what she'd just learned. The years of bitterness and outright hate that existed between them made for too tall a mountain; it cannot be conquered in the span of a few moments.

But they were siblings, after all, not only in blood or name but also in deed. Every word she said back in the outlying village was sincere. Despite her own personal feelings, she respected the man her brother was, and she believed he really would have given her the chance to prove herself as both a soldier and an officer… had he lived.

Prince Dieter's already-pale face was made even more specter-like by death. Hilde etched in her memory the sight of him in his black armor, his hands holding the hilt of his sword over his chest. She laid her own hand over them, allowing the iciness to seep into her skin.

'I will continue the battles you can no longer fight, Brother,' she vowed. 'I will see you and your men avenged.'

She took her hand back and looked up at the ceiling; she breathed deeply through her mouth and, as she slowly exhaled, settled her body and spirit into calmness.

She then walked towards the bier to the right of her brother's, where Lord Alfwin already stood, her back to her. Step by quiet step, she saw more of the young man lying there, nearly as pale as the first, and just as rigid and cold.

His beloved face drained of life was not quite the destructive sight she had dreaded it to be. Crying beforehand had helped reduce the impact, but more than that, her newfound resolve was what had strengthened her s.h.i.+eld.

Hilde had entered this House of Mourning wanting nothing more than to get the ordeal over with – in some ways hoping that afterwards, she might start to forget and somehow carry on with her life. Now, however, when she exits this building, she will have a more worthwhile purpose than simply living.

For one thing, she will be taking charge of her own future.

'I might yet marry one day,' she thought, addressing the man who was her greatest friend and champion. But no more. 'I accept this as a possible part of my duty. But as for love…' Hilde's heart clenched; her determination not to cry for him nearly faltered, but she pushed on. 'I'm afraid I've had enough of it, Lothar.' She stepped back from the bier and headed for the door. 'I will have you be the last.'