Chapter 43….
Sad Words
The wedding night, which had been completely different from what she had expected, was certainly dreadful—but Lorelia was given no time to dwell on the memory or sink into melancholy. For the three days of wedding banquets, she had far too much to do.
As the lady of the territory, she had to invite the wives and daughters of the vassals. She drank tea with them, conversed with them, and tried to begin good relationships. Dealing with noblewomen she was meeting for the first time—ladies old enough to be her mother or grandmother—was extremely uncomfortable and nerve-racking, but it was unavoidable. She now had to fulfill the role of Pervrantei of Pervrante.
However, regardless of her commendable enthusiasm and sense of responsibility, Lorelia’s limitations as an “outsider” were clear. She could barely manage to memorize even the names of the fifty-three families—there was no way she could conduct high-level social maneuvering. She did not even have the skill to do the most basic thing: grouping families with compatible interests and inviting them separately.
So if it hadn’t been for the help of Clodel Renier, Lorelia would truly have become a laughingstock.
For the three days of banquets, the butler practically attended her alone. He explained that since there was not yet a lady’s maid assigned to attend the lady of the territory, he himself was filling that role. Alicia, who overheard this, narrowed her eyes slightly, but she had nothing she could say in response.
Although Alicia came from a wealthy family of some standing in Mendel, she was not a noble—and moreover, not a noble from Tricen. Renier said that a maid should be chosen from among the daughters of the vassal families and that he was currently searching for a suitable candidate. Hearing that, Lorelia simply nodded obediently. By now, she was no longer surprised even to hear that a mere butler was choosing her maid.
The fact that Theobald had granted his butler such extraordinary authority was something that even a fool blind to social cues could not possibly fail to notice.
From what Lorelia had observed, even the nobles closest to Theobald, and the most powerful advisers, did not treat Renier lightly. Not even Margrave Apel, the de facto leader among them, could order him around.
Needless to say, Lorelia, who had only just arrived here, stood no chance. Right now, she was like a blind horse—unable to take even a single step on her own unless Renier pulled the reins. If she was to find her place in this mansion, his help was absolutely essential.
“Never look lightly upon the servants. Remember that they know your husband better than you do.”
Even to build a good relationship with her husband, she needed the butler’s assistance.
“Renier advised me to leave you alone for the time being.”
Even if he was the person she should trust least in this mansion, she had no other choice.
“Were you originally from the south?”
After blurting out the question, Lorelia swallowed her dry saliva. The change in her manner of speech felt awkward, sticking poorly to her tongue. After the wedding, it had been Renier who pointed out that now that she was the lady of the territory, she must use formal speech toward him. He was a man impeccably certain when it came to etiquette.
At her question, the butler did not answer immediately. The two of them had just left the drawing room and were on their way to the formal dining hall. They were scheduled to have a final dinner before Lorelia’s father and godfather departed. The two men would leave the castle gates at dawn the next day.
There was no one in the corridor where their conversation had paused. Only the two of them—the young noblewoman in a trailing dress and the young butler following behind her.
“Why do you ask such a thing?”
After a moment, Renier asked in return. To Lorelia, it sounded like, Why ask about my homeland now, of all times? She lifted her chin a little higher to hide her tension. She had resolved firmly that today, she would ask.
“Because your name doesn’t sound like that of someone from Tricen.”
“……”
“Clodel Renier. To my ears, it sounds exactly like someone from Kingsberg.”
“……”
“The surname Renier comes from there.”
Pointing this out just as she had prepared, Lorelia turned around. She met the eyes of the butler, who had stopped walking as well. Contrary to her expectation that he would be flustered, he readily acknowledged it with a nod.
“You are correct. I was born in a village near Kingsberg.”
“I knew it. You were from the central region.”
“One could say that.”
“Until what age did you live there?”
“I left home around the age of ten.”
“To enter a monastery?”
Renier, who had been answering each question without fail, fell silent at that. A strange expression surfaced in his ash-gray eyes.
“You seem to know a great deal about me.”
At his low voice, Lorelia shrank inwardly. It was not because he was a fully grown man about ten years older than her. There were servants in Mendel Castle so old their backs were bent—age was not the issue. The discomfort she felt from Renier stemmed from a kind of authority, and that was related to the fact that he was a former priest.
But now he was a servant. Not a priest, but a butler. Steeling herself, Lorelia looked straight up at his face. No matter what, she had decided that today she would ask.
“There is something I’m curious about.”
“Please ask.”
“Why is it that you… no longer serve the gods?”
After finally asking the question, she slowly drew in a breath. Her heart pounded as though she had pried into a tremendous secret. Renier gazed steadily into her eyes, then politely lowered his gaze and answered.
“That is because I must serve my lord.”
The reply was so calm and straightforward that it only made the listener more taken aback.
“My lord requires me, and I lack the capacity to serve both him and the gods at the same time. That is why I took off my priest’s robes.”
“……”
“As you know, my lady, I was once a servant of the gods, but that is a matter of the past. Now, I am merely someone who serves my lord.”
“……”
“Is there anything else you are curious about?”
The butler asked courteously. In his respectful and composed manner, there was not the slightest hint of hesitation. Was it the confidence of someone who had nothing to hide? Or the confidence that whatever he was hiding, she would never uncover?
As Lorelia tried to gauge it, she suddenly realized that she was deeply suspicious of him. Until now, she had never once suspected anyone.
“…That will do. It just came to mind, so I asked.”
Mumbling her way out of it, Lorelia hesitated briefly, then turned back and resumed walking in the direction they had been heading.
The formal dining hall lay in the west wing. All of the lord’s rooms were in the western part of the mansion, while the lady’s quarters were in the east. From anywhere in the east wing, one could see the sea. Lorelia liked that very much.
“It’s already been three days.”
Perhaps that was why she spoke as if sighing toward the window. Seeing the sea soaked in the glow of sunset loosened her heart without her realizing it. And thinking that tonight’s dinner would mark her parting with her father made her grow gloomy.
When had the three days of wedding banquets flown by? Once they parted today, when would they meet again?
“In my homeland, there’s a saying,” she said as she walked straight ahead. “That good times fly, and bad times crawl.”
A moment later, the butler walking one step behind her replied,
“That is a sad saying.”
Instead of answering, Lorelia lowered her gaze to the carpet beneath her feet. She closed her mouth and mulled over his words. Was it a sad saying?
Thinking it over carefully, it did seem that way.
Lorelia was unable to see her father off in person. Leaving her bedchamber before dawn was not proper conduct for a noblewoman. Lancelot agreed with that, and so the father and daughter exchanged their farewells sufficiently at the dinner the night before.
He did not say much, but it was clear that leaving his daughter behind weighed heavily on him. Even so, with a composed expression, he invited his son-in-law to come to Mendel Castle together after Lorelia gave birth to her first child. Theobald readily agreed.
Listening to that conversation, Lorelia could not help recalling her wedding night. Even now, just thinking about it made her body stiffen and her knees clamp shut. How long would it take before she conceived a child? Surely she wouldn’t have to do that again, would she? The thought made her face burn with renewed shame, and for a while she couldn’t bring herself to look her father in the eye.
“Please send a carrier pigeon as soon as you arrive safely. I’ll write often as well.”
Lorelia parted from Lancelot as if nothing were wrong. With composure. Like an adult. Like the wife of a grand lord. Until the very end, she forced herself to smile—but the moment she left the dining hall and returned to her room, she burst into tears.
Even Alicia, who hurried to comfort her in surprise, ended up catching the tears. The two of them held each other and cried for a long while. Lorelia cried because parting from her family was sad and frightening, and Alicia cried because she pitied her weeping young lady.
And so, the next morning, the woman who awoke and sat before the mirror, disheveled, could only smile awkwardly at her own swollen eyes.
“This is a problem. I have to attend breakfast.”
Even after washing her face and getting ready, the swelling did not subside. Alicia insisted that it looked perfectly fine, that a beauty like her lady would be pretty even with mud smeared on her face—but it wasn’t much comfort. Lorelia knew well how picky and talkative noblewomen could be. She did not want to give people she was not yet close to even the smallest reason to criticize her.
So what should she do about this? As she sighed heavily and pressed down on her eyelids,
“My lady, my lady!”
Alicia, who had been out in the sitting room, opened the bedroom door and rushed in. When Lorelia looked at her questioningly from the mirror,
“A gift has arrived. His lordship sent you a gift!”
Alicia exclaimed, her face brimming with excitement. Instead of responding, Lorelia blinked her swollen eyes a few times.
A gift? He sent me a gift?
