Lost In Character: Transmigration Chronicles Of A Nameless Heroine 30 First Tes

With s.h.i.+ning eyes, Hilde matched the Lord General's show of faith by bowing her head to him – not curtseying as a female would to one of higher rank, not saluting as a soldier might have done to a superior officer, but acknowledging him simply as someone she respected and thought of as an equal.

She did not, however, try to be all expressionless. Despite the hollowness in her heart that seemed destined to stay there forever, warmth had spread in her chest at his words and actions. She was happy. Therefore, with all sincerity, she smiled.

Just because the Lord had decided to stop treating her based on her gender doesn't mean she should stop counting it as part of her ident.i.ty. She was still a woman – not a very "proper" one, certainly, but she had no intention of pretending otherwise. Hilde did not care for the possibility that purposely acting unfeminine among men might garner her more respect.

It would have been another matter had that been her true personality, but as a mask, she would not put it on. Arnican Queens both past and present had proven that women possessed their own brand of bravery and strength.

The situation on a battlefield might be different from the one on a throne – that was something she was yet to find out. Indeed, the current war with the northern states might long be over before she finishes her "occupational" education. But here, at the possible start of her longed-for career, she would put the right foot forward by being exactly who she was.

For the time being, she set aside the fact that she wasn't sure who that was, exactly.

When Hilde raised her head, the Lord General nodded once and took his hand back. Then he threw a heavy glance at the door to the House. After a moment's hesitation, Hilde did the same. She was in time to see the black-armored men inside, who must have a.s.sumed a statue-like stillness upon entering, begin to move.

Four men each approached the five biers. The ones Hilde could see took position on one of their a.s.signed bier's corners. Absently, she also noted how two Guards remained stationed outside the building. One was Inge, the other was someone whose name she couldn't recall just then. However, the bandages he also sported identified him as the second of the ambush's two survivors.

Just as she was withdrawing her gaze from the whole scene, she met this other injured soldier's eyes when he flicked them in her direction – there and away.

"Shall we leave, Princess?" asked Lord Alfwin, whose own s.h.i.+elded eyes remained trained on what was happening inside. "Time enough later to see them again, under the light of day."

'For the last time,' Hilde finished in her head. To the older man, she nodded, and though he hadn't been looking at her, he turned when she did.

They'd taken only a handful of steps when the sounds of shouting and scuffling made them stop and look back.

The two injured soldiers were no longer at their stations: they were on the ground, locked in a tussle. Though Inge looked to be weaker, he was eventually the one pinning down the other, his left arm pressed against the unknown soldier's neck.

"You dare?" Inge had been saying since earlier. He pressed down harder on his fellow Guard. The other's face was slowly turning purple. "You DARE?"

Their comrades, who had been in the process of lifting the slabs on which the dead lay in order to move them outside, first had to let down their burdens again, interrupting what should have been a solemn ceremony. They were just then streaming out of the building, with Raban the first to reach Inge. He pulled him away from the other soldier, who drew in a harsh, wracking breath the moment his airway was freed.

The Captain of the Prince's Guard stepped in between the combatants. The heaving and hacking one on the ground was surrounded by a handful of other soldiers, none of whom made any move to help; the other, who was still determined to continue the fight, was braced by Raban and another soldier.

The Captain stepped in front of Inge, blocking his view of the other. He coldly said: "We are about to bury our Prince and our comrades. You BOTH dare to dishonor them this way? I should have your backs whipped."

Inge was unfazed by the admonishment. "Hang us!" he shouted, straining against those holding him. "You should hang us – that's more than we deserve – but let me first kill that b.a.s.t.a.r.d—"

"What have I said wrong?" the other injured soldier shouted back, voice wheezing. "We have a spineless Queen who'd let our shame go unanswered, and now her spoiled sister thinks she's free to play at being general? How are we not doomed?"

Silence reigned over the crowd of about forty people in that secluded clearing. The attendants surrounding the wheeled biers did not even gasp in shock. The soldiers kept their expressions neutral.

It was now very nearly the highest noon, and the sun was fit to blister. Suddenly, the silence and the heat were broken by a stray wind that blew from above, rustling the towering treetops. The wind brought to everyone the clean, cool scent of the season approaching, which brought to mind images of shedding and decay.

The Princess and the Lord General remained where they stood through it all. They neither moved nor made a sound – the Lord, because these were not his soldiers, the Princess, for that very same reason.

From standing in front of Inge, the Captain broke out of his freeze to stand before the soldier who'd shouted those unpardonable words.

"As the Captain of Prince Dieter's Guard, this is my last order: Gislin, son of Clotilde, you are stripped of your place in this company."

The ex-Guard thought it wise to protest the sentence.

"I have said nothing—"

At the Captain's subtle nod, the soldier nearest the man on the ground punched the speaker's mouth b.l.o.o.d.y. And shut. The Captain then drew his sword from its scabbard in one swift and fluid motion. Gislin, who'd been moaning on the ground while clutching his mouth, stilled and stared wide-eyed at the gleaming blade.

But the Captain took that bared sword and walked matter-of-factly to where Hilde and Lord Alfwin stood. He dropped to one knee before them and, holding his sword perpendicularly in both hands, offered it up with his head bowed.

"I defer the rest of their punishment to you," he said into the tense silence that no wind nor breath interrupted this time around. It should be said that though the Captain knelt equally in front of her and the Lord General, she – along with everyone else – thought he addressed the older man. Then he looked up and met the younger woman's eyes. "Princess Hilde, permit me to recommend death by scourging."

She felt the focus of all who were present s.h.i.+ft as one towards her. Before then, she had been meticulous in showing no emotion except what her cold expression would imply. Although she did not flinch, her eyes narrowed as she looked down stonily at the kneeling Captain.

Hilde did not hesitate. Somehow, despite all the rage that boiled and seethed inside her, she recognized what the right choice was in this situation.

"You are all of the military, Captain. Even Gislin, son of Clotilde." She looked up as she named the man in order to meet his eyes.

His insults should not have been uttered in public – truly, that was his only mistake. The insult against her, she'd concede she deserved. She herself had been calling and treating a foreign prince as if he were a brat, but if she were to be honest, the Hilde of a few days ago had not been that much better than how she saw Leal.

The insult to the Queen, on the other hand…

It didn't escape her notice how few people had expressed indignation at hearing that. Was it the shock that made them unable to react? Or was it because they all thought this to be true and could therefore not offer any denials?

The gaze Gislin returned to her was mocking and defiant despite his bloodied state. He, at least, believed his words and actions to be justified.

"And as you might know, Captain," she continued, addressing the man before her but not taking her eyes off the other man, "I am underage. It is not yet my place to meddle in these affairs." Again, without breaking eye contact with Gislin, who was sneering as she met her challenge, she then addressed the man beside her. "Lord General, I defer these soldiers' judgment and punishments to you."

This got a bit more reaction than the insults hurled earlier. There were feet shuffling on the gra.s.s, low voices were buzzing.

Hilde worried – of course she did. Would witnesses see in this decision fear or weakness? Possible. Indeed, highly probable.

But she had just been accused of only wanting to "play" at being general. Taking this easy opportunity to punish the accuser when she wasn't the most appropriate person around to do it – it seemed to her that that would only add weight to Gislin's words. It almost felt like she was a child being told she could smack an adult all she wanted because his teasing had made her cry.

Whether by accident or design, that was the lovely trap that the Captain of Prince Dieter's Guard had sprung on her. She saw that his expression was carefully neutral when she finally withdrew her stare from the ex-Guard and swept a glance at him.

Hilde then brought her attention to the Lord General and found that the crinkling around his drooping eyes was more p.r.o.nounced.

He said, "For this occasion, Princess, I shall defend your honor on your behalf."

"And of the Queen," she replied evenly.

The twinkle in the man's eyes dimmed. Hilde moistened her suddenly dry throat.

"That is of course a given," the Lord answered. Strange how she didn't hear much conviction from that.

'Sh*t…'

Hiding her panic, she smiled sparely and said, "Thank you, Lord." Hilde swept a last look over everyone; all of them were looking straight back at her. She tried to note what expression they each wore. Using skills from another life, she committed them to memory. "I shall now excuse myself."

If only she could run, she thought as she retreated from the clearing at a dignified pace. Upon reaching the trees, she pa.s.sed Theodar, who was mercifully bowing so low that his face was hidden.

Back in the royal residence, her brief, frantic search for her sister led her outside the door of the Queen's private study. On her clenched fist, she unleashed all that she'd been holding in and knocked.