Lost In Character: Transmigration Chronicles Of A Nameless Heroine 37 Countermove

Nearly everyone held their breaths in antic.i.p.ation of how Queen Heloise would respond. Hilde's senses tingled; she expected an attack and primed herself for it, not even daring to take her attention away from her sister to see what other people's reactions were. She couldn't afford to.

Recalling himself first, the Royal Officiate cleared his throat, thanked the Lord General, and – with admirable composure – called next and last on the Queen.

She rose. With the ease that came from decades of practice, she broke into the tense silence. In her voice, there was nothing but calm reason and gentle understanding.

"I have experienced the loss of both parents," she began. Turning slightly, she nodded at Lady Ilse before continuing, "I have been pierced by the loss of a beloved uncle. And though he is yet among the living, in a way, I have also experienced the loss of a spouse. Lord Alfwin…" She turned this time in the direction of the man addressed. "You were a staunch ally and friend to my father. After his pa.s.sing, you were among the rocks that my brother and I leaned on until we have found our footing. Even beyond that, in times of doubt or weariness, you were ever there to push us back up again – Prince Dieter more than me, it is true, but then, you are both men."

There was a trace of wry humor in the Queen's voice as she said that last. All this while, she addressed the words to the Lord General, looking only at him to the exception of everyone else.

What Hilde would give to be able to sit forward and alternate watching the two's expressions, as those with better vantage points were freely able to do. From her seat, she could only see the side of her sister's face.

Queen Heloise went on. "It is my brother that I have lost, not my son as you have. But already, it feels as if the world has crumbled. If a man such as you could be so shaken by the loss of a child, I pray that I of lesser strength would be spared that cruelest of fates. Lord, I would not be able to handle it."

To the gasping astonishment of many, her tears had begun to stream in the middle of this speech. She had trouble getting the last sentence out because her chest was by then heaving. And whatever else she might have said after being forced by circ.u.mstances to address the poor, grief-maddened general, her present audience may never know. She became unable to continue, breaking down so completely that Lady Saskia had to hurry to her friend's side to guide her back to the throne.

Once again amazed and appreciative despite himself, the Lysean Prince in the audience would have let out a low whistle if he could. Who would have thought that the foremost woman in a country full of strong females would ever admit to weakness?

He shook his head. To think that the proud Queen would actually use that to her advantage when it suited her.

It's so convenient too that she never got around to addressing the matter of her younger sister. By focusing on the Lord General's motivation for trying to raise the Princess' status, it drew attention away from whether or not Hilde had the apt.i.tude to lead. Unintended or not, it gave the impression that that question was not important at all.

This much was evident to Leal, but few others were as strongly predisposed to cynicism as he was.

Even Hilde started to doubt. That response was far from what she expected. Was the present situation truly a game of life and death or was it merely the clas.h.i.+ng of strong emotions and disparate desires amplified by an external threat?

But… what if there was no difference, after all? Even if the latter proved to be the case, it wouldn't automatically mean the former was false.

On the heels of that thought, frustration surged in her chest. Either she was being paranoid, jumping straight to the worst possible conclusion at every hint of danger, or she was up against grandmasters of a craft that she was still in the middle of grasping. Despite the many weapons in the a.r.s.enal that was otherwise known as her former ident.i.ty, it seemed she might only manage to stay afloat if her weapons didn't increase even more.

Luckily, there were few things she enjoyed better than collecting those.

Following the Queen's "eulogy" that had been cut short, the Royal Officiate allowed a minute to pa.s.s in which not only Queen Heloise but also many others who'd begun weeping or wept even harder could ride out the initial surge. After that, he eased into the next part of the rites – the posthumous awarding of honors. Recalling herself to her duties, the monarch visibly pulled herself together.

She stood once more. The family representatives of each fallen soldier rose from their seats one by one to stand before her. As she handed out medals, she also spent long moments exchanging words with them.

Then came the Lord General's turn.