FEFR 28

Chapter 28

The Count couldn’t laugh it off as nonsense.

Leonhardt’s right to the throne was still valid. According to custom, the emperor’s grandchildren were recognized as part of the line of succession. Pushing one of his granddaughters toward Leonhardt wouldn’t be a total loss.

The future was always uncertain. It wasn’t impossible that someone of such immense capability would be born that the throne would naturally fall into their lap. After all, no one had predicted the previous emperor’s passing a decade ago, and the current emperor wouldn’t live forever either.

The Duke of Seline had chosen a son-in-law based on such considerations—and had reaped great rewards.

Of course, Leonhardt’s situation was far less favorable.

His maternal uncle was still healthy, and he had two older cousins. As for his paternal side, any support was unlikely, judging from his half-sister Miseria’s attitude. If the current emperor were to die, she would surely support Prince Marcel.

Still, the real issue was the mere possibility.

The emperor still held a grudge against Swan Hild for not supporting him in the past.

Regardless of pride, the Count understood he could not afford to fall further out of favor with the emperor.

The emperor’s paranoia ran deep—he distrusted even his own son, Marcel. Even after ascending the throne, he continued to keep a wary eye on other potential heirs.

It was why Marcel hadn’t married—he was still walking on eggshells around his father. Given that, the idea of Swan Hild and Leonhardt forming any kind of alliance was dangerous.

“Even if it’s not true… he could fabricate it if he wanted.”

The Chancellor had assured him the emperor wouldn’t misunderstand Swan Hild’s intentions—but the very fact the Chancellor was present was proof enough of suspicion.

The Baden family had always been close to the imperial family, but in this generation, their loyalty bordered on absolute servitude.

“I understand this situation must be uncomfortable. Swan Hild is a noble granddaughter, heir to the Morigen line. There’s no way Lord Leonhardt would be an unworthy match. As for the other daughter, perhaps it could be a good opportunity—but I’m sure Lady Hesser will find a suitable match for her.”

Even in a private room, the Chancellor leaned forward slightly, as if trying to speak more discreetly.

“And sending her to a place like the Mage Academy… that’s hardly suitable for a lady’s upbringing.”

The Count inwardly agreed, but irritation overtook his agreement. It sounded like an accusation—as if he had intentionally sent his granddaughters into unsuitable situations. None of it had been planned that way.

To treat an Elector Count like this was a clear insult. Choosing a proper heir among the successors was a right the former emperor had granted to Swan Hild, and punishing them now was petty and ungracious.

Yet, the Count couldn’t simply walk away from this conversation. That was also a reality he couldn’t deny.

“What is it you’re really trying to say?”

His voice was sharp, but it wasn’t a refusal to continue. The Chancellor smiled mildly.

“It’s simple. I’ve heard the current headmaster is Lady Hesser’s nephew. Is that correct?”

After the dispute in Simone was settled and the Countship officially filled, the atmosphere shifted drastically.

There were more people than before, and the air felt brighter. Even the pickpockets had disappeared—thanks to Petra’s efforts in reforming welfare centers and orphanages.

Though some who failed to adjust might return to the streets and cause trouble again, for the next few months, at least, this new energy would likely persist.

When Lange noticed the street vendor—where she’d nearly had her bag stolen while shopping some time ago—still open for business, she happily turned toward the stall.

Naturally, the owner didn’t recognize her. The incident might still be buried in memory due to its dramatic nature, but Lange now wore fine daywear instead of the shabby outfit she had on back then. To the vendor, she just looked like another spoiled child from a decent family.

Assuming she bought the cheap sweets out of curiosity, the owner tilted his head but didn’t seem to recognize her.

Lange nibbled the treat as she rejoined her companions.

“Were you that hungry?” Erna asked with a voice that had grown noticeably more gentle lately.

“I just happened to run into my senior here. Consider it a little commemoration.”

Her last words were slightly muffled by the hard cookie in her mouth.

Leonhardt furrowed his brow, clearly recalling the memory.

“Right. You blocked my way and insisted we have tea.”

The mention of such a playboy-like move made even Petra, standing nearby, roll her eyes. She knew her sixth cousin could be ill-mannered in many ways, and her expectations had dropped further with each passing day.

“What?” Lange blinked, confused by the stares.

“I wrote on your recommendation that you were upright, talented, and possessed good character. I’m starting to feel a bit guilty.”

“But it’s all true—I am kind, brave, and a genius.”

She responded with exaggerated arrogance, prompting Petra to shake her head and walk away. Lange knew she had become tiresome enough that Petra didn’t even want to speak anymore—but she didn’t let it affect her.

“You forgot to mention I’m adorable too…”

Everyone knew she wasn’t serious, so no one bothered to correct her. Even Leonhardt, usually quick to lose patience with Lange’s antics, remained silent this time.

“It’s not entirely wrong.”

Petra had judged Lange harshly because of her frivolous behavior, but she was a capable mage and generally good-hearted. And since her impression wasn’t bad, calling her “cute” wasn’t far off either.

Without commenting on the compliment, Leonhardt took out his handkerchief.

“Wipe your mouth before you talk, would you—”

“Surely you don’t plan to act like this in the capital too?” Erna interrupted, using her own handkerchief to wipe Lange’s mouth clean. Though she was technically the older sister by just a week, Erna’s younger appearance made the scene oddly comical.

For some reason, Erna had been particularly attentive to Lange lately.

It wasn’t just a matter of gratitude or guilt—it was too earnest. Nor did it feel like manipulation. It was warm, and genuine.

This wasn’t the first time Erna had subtly blocked others—especially Leonhardt—from interfering. Lange still seemed a little confused, and Leonhardt looked awkward.

After carefully brushing away the crumbs, Erna pulled out a fresh handkerchief and handed it to Lange.

“Here. Keep this with you from now on.”

It had lace on the edges and a small lily embroidered in one corner, along with Lange’s name.

“You made this…?”

“Just the embroidery.”

Lange, stunned by the unexpected gift, quietly folded it and tucked it into her pocket. Erna smiled, clearly pleased, and linked arms with her as they followed Petra.

Left behind, Leonhardt stood frozen for a moment before catching Kalisa’s gaze.

“…Are sisters usually like that?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Kalisa replied.

She clearly knew why Erna was acting this way, but offered no explanation—just a wry smile.

Instead, she turned her gaze toward the clock tower, resuming her role as an attendant.

“The train should be arriving soon. Is everything to your satisfaction, Your Highness?”

There were plenty of things that weren’t.

His self-proclaimed junior’s erratic behavior. Her sister’s subtle hostility. The discomfort of returning to the capital after so long.

But telling Kalisa wouldn’t help. At best, she’d offer digestive aids or motion sickness medicine. So Leonhardt kept it to himself.

“No. Let’s get moving.”

Petra boarded to officially finalize her succession to the Countship. Lange and Erna boarded for their entrance exams. And Leonhardt boarded to finally end his long, unauthorized absence.

Surprisingly, it was Erna who seemed most fascinated by the special car. Her eyes sparkled as she took in the luxurious private compartment, clearly impressed.

It was the first time for all of them to use an entire private car like this. Normally, even first class with its individual rooms was considered more than comfortable enough.

For Erna, it was only her second time riding a train at all. The first time, she hadn’t been well enough to enjoy the experience.

“What’s the first thing you’re going to do when we arrive?”

A few minutes after the train departed, Erna had calmed down and Lange stopped watching her, turning to Leonhardt with the question.

“I’ll have to go to the academy first. I need to receive my disciplinary measures.”

“It won’t change much whether you go today or in a few days. You should rest a bit first.”

Leonhardt thought she had a point. When he didn’t scold her for it, Lange smiled and asked again.

“Do you have a place to stay?”

“No. I’m considering buying a house.”

Candidates not selected as Electors were granted a ducal title, land, and an imperial stipend. It sounded like a benefit, but in truth, it was exile.

Of course, there was no strict rule against staying in the capital. Most ended up residing in a mansion within the city.

But Leonhardt had been exiled to a nameless wasteland when he was still a child.

Until he was old enough to enter the academy, he had mostly lived in the estate named after his mother and hadn’t come to the capital except for events like the New Year’s celebrations.

His uncle had provided a mansion, but it was filled with spies, so even after enrollment, he stayed in dormitories or hotels.

“You’re buying a house?”

Though she already knew, the answer itself caught Lange off guard.

“Why?”

Back when he was on active duty, Leonhardt had always stayed at hotels when visiting the capital for assignments or awards—just like Lange. If he had bought a house during that time, he wouldn’t have needed to.

But Leonhardt didn’t answer.

In the past, he hadn’t seen the need. He technically had a home, and purchasing another just because he didn’t like the old one seemed wasteful. He had no guests to invite anyway.

But now, he had grown strangely close to the Lange sisters.

His gaze shifted to Petra.

The new Countess of Simone stared thoughtfully out the window. Despite his judgment that she wasn’t as cold as she’d first appeared, he found it difficult to shake off his earlier impressions.