Chapter 42
After returning from the Kingdom of Ridill, Henrik Blanke, Margrave of Valmvelk, slumped his shoulders at the mountain of documents piled on his desk.
When a lord is away, it is only natural to appoint someone as acting lord. Unfortunately, the person who had served as acting lord until now was none other than his younger sister, Frieda.
With Frieda gone, it was only natural that work had piled up in her absence.
His grandfather spent all day stopping young men and regaling them with tales of his own valor, while his father had promptly handed his title over to his son and gone on an expedition with his wife.
Henrik vowed to have his younger brothers, who were serving other houses, help with the work once they returned, then began going through the mountain of documents.
"Young master, young master."
An older woman with dark-brown hair pulled back peeked through the door Henrik had left open. It was Edda, who worked in the kitchen.
"What is it, Edda?"
"You have a visitor."
"...A friend?"
It wasn't that Henrik had no friends, but he couldn't think of any friend rude enough to barge in without warning.
As Henrik furrowed his brow, Edda smiled warmly and ushered the visitor in, saying, "This is your visitor."
"Hey, Henrik."
The moment Henrik saw the man casually raise one hand and grin, he contorted his face with all his might. Specifically, he scrunched every feature toward the center of his face.
The visitor's name was Einhart Berger.
There wasn't a soul in the Imperial Knights who didn't know him.
He had dark-gold curls, handsome features, and long, slender limbs.
His swordsmanship was excellent, and he belonged to the Imperial Guard, which accepted only the elite. Apparently, all the young ladies of the Empire were wild about him.
But Henrik had few pleasant memories of this man.
Back when Henrik belonged to the knights, Einhart had been in the same unit before being selected for the Imperial Guard, and he had picked on Henrik at every opportunity.
He had called Henrik a poor noble barely distinguishable from a peasant, and lamented that this was what had become of the grandson of Valmvelk's War Wolf.
Apparently, he had been nursing a grudge because he had never once beaten Henrik in swordsmanship training.
"Edda, he isn't a friend, so you can send him away."
"Oh? You're going to send away a man who came all the way out to this backwater for your sake? What a filthy castle, too. Even if you're a lord with a castle, there's nothing to brag about if the castle itself is this pathetic."
Einhart looked around the room, then shrugged and laughed mockingly. He was an utterly insufferable man.
"It's not as though I intend to brag about the castle. It was originally built as a refuge for emergencies... Anyway, what brings such a busy Imperial Guard knight all the way out to this remote corner of the country?"
"Oh, listen to you. Is that any way to speak to your future brother-in-law?"
"Huh?"
Henrik gave Einhart a wary look.
Einhart looked as though he could barely contain his laughter, stroking his chin with a broad grin.
"Is Frieda cleaning again today? Honestly. I can't imagine the count's sister pretending to be a maid in my household..."
"Frieda is in the Kingdom of Ridill."
Einhart's eyes went round in blank astonishment. He was the same age as Henrik, twenty-six, but that expression made him look somewhat younger.
Einhart tilted his head to the right and asked,
"...Why?"
"She's staying at her fiancé's home. Once all the formalities are complete, she'll return here for a while and then officially marry into his family..."
"...Her fiancé?"
"Lord Albright of the Kingdom of Ridill."
At Henrik's words, Einhart opened his mouth so wide it looked as though his jaw might come unhinged.
There went his handsome face.
"Wha—huh—aaaaaaah!? I sent her a letter proposing marriage, didn't I!?"
"You mean that thing that said, 'I might deign to take your sister as my wife. You should be delighted that I'll lavish affection on her'? It went straight into the fireplace."
"Are you an idiot!? This is Einhart Berger we're talking about! The Golden Knight every girl dreams of!"
"Isn't it a little embarrassing to say that about yourself?"
Einhart fell silent, looking abashed. Apparently, even he thought it was a little embarrassing.
"I met Lord Albright in person. I have my reservations and worries, but he seems to genuinely care about Frieda. At least he's better than you. Much better."
"You absolute moron! You idiooooot! You complete imbecile! With a man this wonderful right here, you're sending your sister off to marry someone in another country!?"
When Einhart suddenly began shouting and carrying on, Henrik blinked at him in bewilderment.
This reaction... Could it be...?
"...Wait. You were serious about that engagement letter?"
"It had your family crest on it!"
"I thought it was an elaborate attempt to harass me."
Henrik replied casually, and Einhart collapsed to his knees. An air of heartbreak hung over him, the kind unique to someone who had just been rejected.
Henrik, ever the kind-hearted man, began to feel a little sorry for him. But then Einhart abruptly raised his head and marched over to Henrik's desk.
"In that case, we're drinking today. We're drinking until we drop. Come on, I'll spend some money in your territory, so come with me!"
"No thanks. Besides, I'm busy clearing up all the work that's piled up."
"Hmph! There is no way a backwater lord's work is that difficult! ...Huh?"
Einhart's gaze fell on one of the documents left out on the desk.
Among reports on crop yields and the progress of a cow's labor, there was one document that was obviously out of place.
"...A proposed alliance with the Kingdom of Ridill?"
"Could you not read things without permission? I haven't even shown it to His Majesty yet."
The proposed alliance to deal with dragon-related disasters had been suggested by the Third Prince of the Kingdom of Ridill while Henrik was staying there.
In reality, the Third Prince probably had not been the one who came up with the alliance. It was more reasonable to assume that someone had pulled strings behind the scenes and passed the matter on to the Third Prince.
Most likely, it had been the Second Prince, who had been invited to the Star-Seer Witch's estate. He was said to have fallen ill after an incident several years ago and was now secluded in his territory, recuperating.
(Though he certainly hadn't looked ill to me.)
His stately, thoroughly royal bearing was one thing, but more than that, his footwork had been that of someone trained in martial arts.
Henrik secretly hoped that he would get the chance to cross swords with him one day.
"In any case, this alliance hasn't been formally decided yet. I was only told to take the proposal home and discuss it with His Majesty..."
"So the proposer on their side is Prince Albert, the Third Prince?"
Having read through the documents without permission, Einhart folded his arms and seemed to recall something.
"The diplomatic secretary serving Prince Albert is an incredible beauty. I saw her up close once, and she's among the top three most beautiful women I've ever seen."
"Those aren't exactly the words of a man who was just rejected and threw a tantrum over it."
Henrik gave him a withering look, and Einhart snorted.
"You idiot, the only way to heal the pain of heartbreak is with a new love... That said, apparently that beautiful secretary is a favorite of our Emperor. Don't even think about making a move on her. You'll lose your head."
Einhart wore a sly grin, and Henrik answered with an air of indifference.
"I won't. I'm not you."
"Oh, step outside."