Lost In Character: Transmigration Chronicles Of A Nameless Heroine 57 Youthful Follies

Viscount Renard observed, "Something tells me no servant here would dare obey our requests."

"I don't understand," said Baron Marmion, his pretense of irritation dropped in favor of full-blown panic. But he still carefully lowered his voice when he continued, "Can she do this? What of the consequences?"

"She'd been a.s.sured there'd be none," Leal replied levelly. "I suppose she took me at my word."

The curly-haired Baron looked incredulous and somewhat dismayed. "My Prince?"

"I too don't understand…" the Viscount cut in softly.

All this while, he had been keeping track of the Arnican Queen's movements. After recalling her Guards to her side, she'd been engaged in whispered but visibly heated discussion with the Lord General and some of the highest-ranking members of the a.s.sembly.

Even from a distance, it was clear to see that most of the urgency and frustration came from the n.o.bles – whatever their monarch had been telling them, it didn't seem like she'd back down from it or so much as budge.

Finally, her body already half-turned away in dismissal, she said a few last words at the Lord General and at Lady Ilse, who was also nearby, before giving a signaling nod at her soldiers. The dozen or so men formed two layers of body s.h.i.+eld around her and only her.

Then, to the open astonishment of all who still hadn't guessed yet what she intended, Queen Heloise headed to a path on the right side of the surrounding trees, much like the one the Princesses had entered on the left earlier.

In near-absolute silence, she and her Guards soon disappeared from sight.

Into this heavy stillness, the Viscount continued in subtle disapproval, "She is behaving more like a n.o.ble from our own land, puffed up by his own sense of importance. It might not be misplaced in her case, but these are not the actions of an Arnican monarch, I feel. And fear."

Having spoken of it with Leal just minutes ago, Baron Harmin nodded. "It's an exceedingly bad time for Arnica to have a severely wounded person on their throne," he said, echoing his own words from before.

The statement caught Leal's attention despite his continuing worries – the Prince had not stopped thinking of ways they could get out of this new situation intact.
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"Wounded?" he repeated. "Her?"

The Baron met his eyes squarely and answered, "In countless ways, I believe, Your Highness, and most of these wounds aren't easily visible. Also, they are… sensitive to prodding. I now suspect we may have provoked her unwittingly in some way."

"You mean other than for being who we are?" Leal was frowning in lingering confusion as he said this. Meanwhile, Viscount Renard let out a deeply regretful sigh.

"Yes," he told Baron Harmin. "I think I see what you mean."

The other Baron's last reserves of calm and patience evaporated. "PLEASE – my Prince, my lords, all that registers to me is that we'd been thrown to the wolves. WHAT ARE WE TO DO NOW?"

By unspoken accord, the three men s.h.i.+fted their positions so that Baron Marmion could be s.h.i.+elded from most prying eyes. Whatever else, they could not afford to be seen panicking or showing even a hint of disunity. Baron Harmin then clamped a warm, gentle hand over his peer's shoulder.

"From all that I've heard, Arnicans sh.o.r.e each other up whenever necessary. There's a clear necessity now – I'm sure someone else would take the reins soon."

Through a stroke of luck, after he'd s.h.i.+fted his stance, Leal was once again facing the royal tomb's doorway. It was in those moments that the person he'd been watching out for finally exited, and as expected, she wasn't alone.

"Oh, my…" he absently heard Viscount Renard beside him breathe out. "That image is surely worth a portrait or three – who is that other young woman again?"

Before Leal could answer, Baron Harmin suddenly called from the corner of his mouth, "Highness…" He also noted the latest surge of whispers. Leal ignored it all, not taking his eyes from where they were trained. The Baron went on anyway, "Lord Alfwin is coming this way."

The younger man a.s.sumed he meant the Lord was heading to where the two women stood, exchanging words as both their steady eyes scanned the scene before them. Ever so briefly, Hilde's gaze had brushed across Leal's, but she did not seem to have registered this.

"We are not blocking his path, are we?" he answered, his mood souring even more.

The Viscount corrected him: "My Prince, I think we are."

Mere moments later, the Lord General arrived right in front of the Lyseans. The three senior ones had already composed themselves and acknowledged him at once. The youngest among them, despite the early warning, faced the Lord in exquisitely slow and obviously unwilling motion – first only the feet, then the torso, the head, and last of all, the eyes.

The moment his full attention was finally on him, the Lord General bowed his head. Despite his surprise, Leal maintained an impa.s.sive expression that betrayed nothing except, perhaps, absolute displeasure.

"On behalf of every Arnican and the Queen, I apologize for this inconvenient turn of events. I am also humbly extending my personal apologies – it was my selfish request of your aid earlier that had largely led to this." Only after uttering the last word did he raise his head again, but the man was not yet done. Now meeting Leal's cool, silent gaze – which had flashed briefly when their predicament had been described as merely "inconvenient" – he said, "I'll do what I can to minimize the harm that might befall you and yours."

From his sigh, Baron Marmion seemed satisfied by this a.s.surance, failing to note that it was nearly an empty one. The only soldiers left in the meadow were the spent and dispirited Prince's Guards, who'd grimly made an inadequate perimeter around the dozens and dozens of unarmed civilians. Granted, the people downhill were unarmed as well, but they were thousands and thousands.

In truth, Leal might have been a little more inclined to believe this Arnican too if he hadn't already received a similar a.s.surance that had just been so easily broken.

As if once again understanding Leal's private thoughts, the Lord General's eyelids drooped as he showed a spare, cynical smile. "Will you walk with me, Prince?" He turned and stepped away without waiting for a response.

Though he did not jump to follow at once, Leal went, and the Lord led him to where Prince Dieter's wheeled bier had been earlier – right before the mausoleum's door, in other words. For all the world, the two men appeared to be standing in wait for the Princess still framed by the doorway, now conversing with her attendant and an injured Prince's Guard, who'd been sitting near the entrance since earlier.

Meanwhile, the Lord General's daughter stood in silent but unmistakable attention to the Princess' right. It's possible he only imagined it, but Leal could have sworn that, at the sight, a feeling of peace and satisfaction exuded from the older man beside him.

Facing forward, the Lord spoke to Leal casually. "The Queen would have taken you with her, you know? If you had joined the procession – if she hadn't noticed when she was calling for her Guards that most were nowhere to be found. And why? Because, against her expectations, their temporary charges had stayed behind." Grimly amused, he gave the rigid-faced younger man a brief glance. "That was your mistake, boy, in case you were wondering. You should have thought your decisions through."

Despite his best effort to at least appear unruffled, the criticisms rubbed Leal raw. Once again, the young King-in-waiting was invaded by the sense that he did not know enough, that he had not been thinking deeply or accurately enough about the events that had been unfolding before him – happening TO him, even.

His icy gaze strayed briefly towards the young woman standing a mere three or so yards in front of him, and he admitted that he might have been too distracted by his own selfish agendas to pay proper attention to anything else. That was not his only shortcoming, though, and his present danger wasn't the only consequence.

Even before word of the what's being said downhill had reached them up top, he'd been careless enough to make it plain, to anyone who cared to take a closer look, which Princess he'd truly set his sights on. As the Lord General pointed out, he didn't even think about his decision earlier. Hilde hadn't emerged from the tombs yet, so he stayed when, as it turned out, he should have left.

He really hadn't known any better then. He sure as h.e.l.l hadn't expected the price would be so unforgivingly high.

To his surprise, the older man seemed to relent. "I'd tell you to forgive yourself for your youth and inexperience, but I haven't quite managed to do that well either, these many decades. Prince—" The Lord took a step forward, the better for the two of them to see eye to eye. Leal found that he wasn't relenting, after all. "She is not free for the taking. While it's still early, I must advise you: cast your line elsewhere."