Lost In Character: Transmigration Chronicles Of A Nameless Heroine 81 The Obvious Answers I

It was not something he would admit out loud, but though Leal was an outstanding student of the soldierly arts, he was an even better student of scholarly works. More to the point, his desire to become the best at the sword was driven by base factors like envy and ambition, but learning about ideas and contemplating them were something that came naturally to him, and deep in his heart, they were activities he enjoyed immensely.

He had long ago committed into memory this version of the legend, whose summary he'd just shared to all the Arnicans surrounding him. Both acts were a feat, since the account in its original language was more flourish-strewn than the usual writings of his countrymen, and the numerous vague details made accurate interpretation difficult.

Leal had relayed to the others a severely shortened version, but to the best of his ability, he did not leave out any key details and he tried not to color his speech with his own beliefs of what it all meant.

As he had been concentrating hard on this while also avoiding thoughts of what was going on outside their secluded alley, he had not been paying attention to how his audience was taking all of it in.

There was silence for some time after he finished speaking, and when it was broken, the cause was far from what Leal had expected.

"Princess Hilde?" said Captain Judda cautiously.

Everyone also looked to where he had his frowning gaze trained. Those who were close enough to distinguish Hilde's figure in the shadows saw what the Captain had been the first to notice.

The arms that were wrapped around her drawn-up knees were squeezing them in extremely tightly. Her neck and shoulders appeared rigid as a result, and upon closer inspection, one can see that she was shaking a little. They had been rapt in Leal's effort to distract them all, and thus, none of them knew how long she'd been holding herself like that.

"What is it, Hilde?" Leal asked, unconsciously dropping her formal t.i.tle in his alarm. "Are you alright?"

"Perhaps the drug she 'took' had worn off," a low voice muttered from somewhere among the ranks of the Prince's Guards. With a groan and a creaking of metal, he added, "Props for how long she's lasted anyway."

A thwack that must have been a fist landing lightly on someone's limb sounded. At the same time, Captain Judda said, "We should send you back to the Palace, Princess. You seemed fine before, but perhaps I shouldn't have let you—"

"Do you really want to finish that sentence?" All who heard the cold, level voice froze. As pairs of rounded eyes turned to her, Hilde held the gaze of the man she was addressing and continued without inflection, "Please think very carefully. Captain."
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If they'd not seen her lips moving, they'd have had a hard time figuring out who had spoken. It was only a moment ago that she seemed to be on the brink of collapsing, yet now, her arms and shoulders had eased up and she appeared as hale as before. Even amidst this miraculous recovery, one could not help but wonder why she'd been challenging a senior officer seemingly at every turn since before.

After meeting Captain Judda's eyes for another frigid second, she then turned to Leal.

"I'm fine," she said in a tone that was more like her usual grumpy one. "Just cold, and hungry, and tired. But so is everybody else."

In his turn, Leal sounded gruff as he replied, "Yes, except no one else here is nursing a head injury."

"Didn't you ask for my help?" Before Leal had the chance to open his mouth again, Hilde went on, "Who wrote what you just told us?"

There were several beats of silence in which Leal debated whether or not to allow her to change the subject. Recalling that the matter of "letting" and "allowing" had been a th.o.r.n.y one just now, he made the obvious choice.

"He claimed to not have written it so much as unearthed and 'recounted' it for modern readers. The man is called Sennet, Marquis of Galane."

Leal caught the subtle way that Hilde became more alert upon hearing his answer.

"He's still alive?" she asked.

He decided to also let that one pa.s.s for the moment and said, "Barely, from what I last heard."

"What do you mean? Is he sick?"

"No," Leal replied levelly. "He's in prison and is… likely to be executed."

Hilde took a moment to digest this. Then, she snorted out a brief, humorless laugh while glancing heavenwards. "Figures," she said under her breath.

Leal had been finding her responses thus far difficult to understand. Of all the controversial details she could focus on, why did she seem interested only in the one who'd written them?

"Would you also like to know what he's convicted of?" he asked, thinking to sound her out. But someone else had cut in.

"Crimes of sedition, I'd wager," said Captain Judda. He did not bother to disguise his contempt. "I've never heard anything so blasphemous in my life – he claims that the royal lines of Arnica and Lys have the same origin, and more, that it was Ellanher's actions that were the cause of our nations' endless conflicts."

Leal didn't even bat an eyelid. Matter-of-fact, he nodded. "That," he said, "and the death of a queen." He paused. "Our queen."