Chapter 30
The visitor spoke in a gentle voice. She smiled at Petra, then turned her gaze back to Ranje.
Ranje rolled her eyes and clumsily denied it.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You seem quite close to Lenart. I can’t imagine anyone else here who could speak that way other than Miss Swanhild.”
Ranje didn’t offer an excuse and simply shut her mouth. She hadn’t yet figured out who the woman was, and both Lenart and Petra looked visibly tense.
Lenart, who had remained silent, decided he had to step forward. If things continued this way, it would only lead to a pointless standoff.
He finished walking down the stairs and stepped between Petra and the visitor.
“What brings you here, sister?”
“When a cousin has been missing for almost half a year and returns, isn’t it proper to pay a visit at least once?”
Ranje realized the woman’s identity and was shocked.
“If she’s a cousin, then she must be…”
Although many of Lenart’s relatives were staying in the capital, there was only one woman with such a close relation. Countess of Ophiles—more famously known as Princess Helga Edin-Agreta.
Ranje couldn’t help but be surprised by her visit.
Likewise, Lenart wasn’t particularly pleased to see Helga. He spoke in a voice laced with suppressed displeasure.
“I didn’t realize Your Highness was so concerned about my well-being.”
Helga responded nonchalantly, as if she had nothing to hide.
“I’ve always worried about you. And if you went to visit the new Elector’s estate right after returning, even someone with no interest would be curious.”
No matter how sudden the visit was, leaving a princess standing in the hallway was inappropriate. Petra finally set aside her caution.
Of course, the atmosphere in the parlor remained cold.
Although Petra did her best to treat the unannounced princess courteously, Helga made an absurd request the moment the door closed.
“I need to speak privately with Lenart. Would you mind giving us the room, Countess Simone?”
Though her voice was soft, the behavior couldn’t be described as anything but rude. As if barging in wasn’t enough, she was now asking the host to leave.
Petra didn’t bother hiding her shock.
A count might seem of equal status at a glance, but their domains and histories were incomparable. Moreover, Count Simone was an Elector. Even if Helga held succession rights, she wasn’t in a position to disregard Petra. If anything, she should have been more cautious around her.
It was so beyond the pale that Petra couldn’t even get angry—she was just dumbfounded.
But Helga didn’t continue her arrogance. She looked up at Petra with soft, affectionate eyes.
“I know I’ve been terribly rude. But this really is urgent…”
Normally, words like those wouldn’t have swayed Petra, but something about Helga’s plainspoken sincerity made it hard to brush off.
Petra took a moment to assess her intentions.
“The princess doesn’t have a bad reputation.”
Someone reckless enough to treat an Elector lightly wouldn’t have earned such praise in the capital’s social circles.
“…So she really might have something important to say.”
Considering the complexities of the imperial family, Petra couldn’t rule it out.
Lenart had come to a similar conclusion. He had initially bristled, but he and Helga weren’t hostile toward each other. They weren’t close enough for her to rush over out of concern, but unlike his maternal uncle, Lenart and his cousins harbored no resentment.
Even considering his half-sister was close with Archduke Adessa, Marcel had always been indifferent, and Helga would talk to him without hesitation.
Lenart reviewed her words with lingering suspicion.
In the meantime, Petra made her decision.
“Very well. But please keep in mind that Lenart is my guest.”
Though she left a warning, Petra wasn’t truly worried about Lenart’s safety. He was already a more-than-capable mage. Helga, on the other hand, had no magical talent by birth.
Petra exited the room, and Ranje, who had followed along by coincidence, was about to leave as well.
But Helga stopped her.
“Miss Swanhild, I think it’s best if you stay. What I’m about to say concerns you as well.”
She phrased it like a suggestion, but it was effectively an order. Ranje was flustered and blurted out something nonsensical.
“I don’t know who that is…”
Lenart sighed. She always seemed unfazed and immune to stress, like her nerves were made of steel, but her awkward denials made her oddly human.
Ranje, realizing Helga had already seen through her, sat beside Lenart with a sheepish expression.
“There’s no need to be nervous.”
“More importantly, what is it you want to say?”
Lenart urged her to get to the point.
“Alright. What exactly did you do last winter?”
What came next was an unexpectedly intense interrogation.
—
After Helga left, Ranje and Lenart sat in the parlor, both immersed in thought.
—You stayed in the West during the height of the succession conflict, then returned alongside Count Simone? And with the granddaughters of both the Count of Swanhild and the Marquis of Morrigan? You do know what that implies, right? Father thinks… you’re eyeing the throne.
It wasn’t a new suspicion, but this time it carried more weight. The fact that Helga had gone so far to issue a personal warning meant things were serious.
Ranje’s exposed identity was likely the catalyst. The three Electors Helga mentioned had all been former supporters of Lenart.
Although they had expected something like this, the speed at which events unfolded left Lenart feeling powerless.
While with Simone, Ranje had always taken the lead, and Lenart had stayed in the background. Publicly, Ranje even used an alias. Petra’s victory was credited to a nameless mercenary.
Even if the Emperor found out one day, they had hoped that by then Petra’s position would be secure, and Ranje would have long since cut ties with her past and be living as a cadet.
“…At least he didn’t find out I directly participated.”
He looked at Ranje, who had moved to sit across from him.
Unlike her earlier tense posture, she now seemed calm.
But Helga had left her a warning too.
—There will be issues with the academy entrance exam. My father is uncomfortable with you being close to Lenart. It’s not like becoming a magic cadet is your lifelong dream… It would be best to give up now.
Sensing Lenart’s gaze, Ranje lifted her head.
“Is there something you wanted to say?”
“No. I was just wondering what you were thinking.”
“I was thinking I’m glad I told Erna to stay in her room. Hearing something like that wouldn’t have been good for her. Even I got a little nervous… And, um, just to clarify—when I usually speak informally with you, it’s not because I don’t respect you or anything…”
“Ranje.”
“…Are you mad?”
“That’s not it.”
He massaged his aching temples.
“She’s right. You should give up on the academy. For your sister’s sake too…”
“What are you talking about?”
“Didn’t you hear her? My uncle suspects me, and your identity has been revealed. He probably knows you and your sister are under Count Simone’s protection. Like Helga said, the Emperor won’t want you enrolling. The real question is… whether he knows which one of you is the heir.”
Helga hadn’t said so outright, but regardless, the Emperor would likely want to get rid of the Swanhild sisters. He couldn’t do so openly, but the entrance exam provided a perfect opportunity.
“And what will change if I give up?” Ranje asked.
Contrary to Lenart’s hopes, she refused to back down.
“Will the Emperor stop suspecting me if I stay with Petra or return to Swanhild?”
Lenart could only shake his head. Ranje pressed further.
“Are you planning to never see me again?”
If he wanted to protect everyone, he should have answered yes. But Lenart froze.
As Ranje said, the only way to reassure his uncle was to cut ties completely. Even exchanging letters could be used against them.
Lenart briefly imagined such a future.
“Going back to how it was before.”
Alone, under constant pressure.
“…Why do I have to go that far?”
The first emotion that surged up was a long-repressed sense of injustice.
He looked at the person in front of him again. So willful and occasionally irritating, yet someone he couldn’t bring himself to dislike.
When he was with her, Lenart didn’t feel unlucky. He stopped indulging in childish self-pity and could focus on the present.
“I don’t want to,” Ranje had said.
And that summed it up.
“Why should I back down for something that hasn’t even happened yet?”
He thought he needed to argue further, but Lenart couldn’t bring himself to speak.
“Besides, staying at the academy might actually be safer. It’s in plain sight, so people will realize we have no ties to Swanhild and that Simone is just a simple sponsor.”
Her argument gave Lenart new resolve.
“The Emperor won’t take issue with you having a few close juniors. Especially if they’re just ordinary cadets with different surnames.”
It was an optimistic outlook, but Lenart agreed.
“You’re right. You two even have different last names…”
If the Emperor gave it a moment’s thought, he’d see that Swanhild wasn’t involved in this.
Lenart decided to set his worries aside for now.
“Maybe my sister and I were overreacting.”
After all, the throne wasn’t such a leisurely position that the Emperor could meddle in everything.
With confidence, Ranje declared,
“Don’t worry about the exam. I’ll pass easily. Once we’re admitted, neither the Emperor nor my grandfather will be able to do anything. Who knows—maybe the Count doesn’t even know what’s going on.”
But contrary to their hopes, an unexpected guest arrived the next day.
“…I don’t know what brings the Count of Swanhild all the way out here.”
XD
That last line in the chapter is hilarious