Lost In Character: Transmigration Chronicles Of A Nameless Heroine 47 The Funeral Viii

She wasn't the only one wondering. The whispers that had gone largely silent because of everyone's exhaustion started up again. Those who had witnessed the scene at the second bier told it to anyone who'd listen. As it happened, many had strength enough left to do that.

As it also happened, because she had gone forward earlier in order to try getting a flower from Lothar, one of Lady Ilse's attendants was one of these witnesses.

"What a disgrace to his father!" the Lady exclaimed as she used a cloth to dry her face. The volume of her maid's voice had only been loud enough for her mistress and her soldiers to hear, so the others around the casket were left intrigued on what had caused the reaction – and on who she was referring to. Before Hilde could betray her raging curiosity, Gisela did so first.

"What happened, Mother?"

With a sharp glint in her eyes, Lady Ilse turned to her daughter and answered, "The pasty boy collapsed and had to be pulled out, that's what happened." The girls had known at once that she was speaking of Theodar; Gisela's eyes widened while Hilde pursed her lips. From the corner of her vision, she noted how Captain Helmut had winced. The Lady shook her head and snorted in derision. "He's not his brother, true enough," she continued acidly. "Stop taking his insult to heart, daughter. It's now plain to see, it wasn't about you at all."

"He insulted Gisela?" Hilde couldn't help but ask. For the moment, the rising pity and embarra.s.sment she was feeling on behalf of Lothar's little brother had been suspended.

"He didn't!" answered Gisela at once. "Mother, please – Hilde, it was truly my fault."

Lady Ilse showed an expression that also reflected how Hilde felt: 'How can anything be Gisela's fault?'

Seeing that, her cousin was stumped. She clearly still wanted to insist Theodar had done nothing wrong, but the third bier's turn to go up the incline had come. As with the first two biers, the crowd that had joined them back at the city had cleared away. Up the spa.r.s.ely forested hill, it will once again be only the crowd from the Royal Palace who'd partic.i.p.ate. The rest would remain gathered around its foot and, once again, await the others' descent.

As the royals prepared to move, Hilde swept a look around her. The question of why the Lysean Prince did what he did was still left unanswered, but the consequences were clear: he had drawn attention to himself.

That distinct hairstyle he and his countrymen wore, "fit for sissies" as Arnicans liked to call it, was easily identifiable. The entire reason the Queen had provided her own soldiers instead of leaving the task of protecting the Lyseans to their own escorts was so they'd be easier to overlook in a crowd. Among black- or white-armored men, those who wore foreign colors would have stood out. They and those they surrounded would have made for a larger target.

'Another fool,' Hilde thought snappishly behind a mask of indifference. She didn't miss people's reactions upon learning that not only were there enemies in their midst, the one that had first caught their eyes was also King Madelon's son.

Few could forget how he had defeated Arnica in the last war and then somehow wheedled Flieder out of the peace bargain. They were losing back then, yes, but they could have fought on – in particular, Prince Dieter had stood toe-to-toe with Lys' King. They had a chance. To this day, many still couldn't comprehend how things had instead ended in utter humiliation.

Under their fresh grief and bitterness, the old insult rankled. Now that they were once again knocked to the ground, this time through the machinations of another enemy, did the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds come to kick at their wounds, the new ones and the half-healed alike?

Even this act of taking the place of Lord Alfwin's wimpy son was viewed with contempt. Hilde had noted before that only the Lady had escorts. The Lord General didn't, and neither did his two other children. From that and from the fact that Theodar was a recluse p.r.o.ne to physical inactivity, one could guess what had happened. As if the evidence of his weakness wasn't embarra.s.sing enough, his twin sister had made it through just fine. The Lysean just had to rub it in that their own lordling wasn't as manly as he was, didn't he?

Whatever Leal's true intentions were, none of them mattered. Prejudice – perceptions twisted to reinforce deep-rooted beliefs – that's what he was up against. He WAS daring, Hilde grudgingly agreed. Would anyone push himself to the extent that he obviously had just to offer insult? Well… yes, some might. There were people who'd go to great lengths indeed for an endgame only they could see.

But the thing about Leal that had first earned her ire was his d.a.m.ned honesty. He didn't seem to care whether or not his thoughts showed clearly in his expressions. Whatever others thought of him, it didn't seem to matter either way. And when he spoke, he didn't hold back – even when he had nothing good to say, which was nearly all the time, in their brief acquaintance.

In her extended experience, an insufferably honest person often had straightforward reasons for what they do – easily misinterpreted – oh, so, so easily. Still…

As they were going up the incline, Hilde did what she could to help pull the wheeled bier. Once back on more level ground, they were in sight of the biers ahead again. She looked at Leal's proud back. Either he was an honest fool, believing that no harm would come to him now that the Queen had guaranteed his protection, or he was simply too stupid to survive playing the villain. Somehow, she couldn't see him being the latter.

She swept another look around her, this time to the soldiers whose expressions she could see. They all heard the dark mutterings; they might even share the same sentiments. But placing duty before personal feelings, they appeared to have acknowledged where this new current might lead to, and they steeled themselves for it. The mad procession was over, but blood might yet spill this day.