9 Homecoming II (1/2)

With that undesirable confirmation, Lady Ilse's blazing eyes flew open. Past gritted teeth, the ever-proper woman eloquently articulated, ”The shits!”

”We must have been spotted, after all,” Gisela said. It was yet another testament to how deeply Arnican hatred ran for their neighbor that even Gisela's demeanor had become almost chilly – ”almost,” because Hilde doubted her saint of a cousin was capable of being cold to anyone.

”But why didn't they leave it well enough alone?” Hilde mused, deeply annoyed. She was hungry, she was dizzy, and she was hurting all over. Even if she had been inclined to, she couldn't possibly put on a civil act in her condition.

”Lady?” the captain ventured, waiting for the only reasonable response Lady Ilse could make.

Since their escape had failed, they cannot now refuse to acknowledge the Lyseans without giving inexcusable offense. National sentiments aside, that was not something they could afford to do, especially with the current situation in the north.

However, there was a good reason avoidance had been Lady Ilse's first choice.

Irrational or not, ”all is fair in love and war.” The Kingdom of Lys won the last conflict in their centuries-long history of waging wars with each other. That time around, Arnica had to surrender a considerable chunk of its western territory. But while their defeat tasted bitter, it had been ”fairly” accomplished by the enemy.

In the same vein, Lady Ilse was a woman deeply in love with a husband who died in that war. She cannot ”fairly” be expected to pretend she didn't want to tear every Lysean's face on sight.

That is to say, they actually risked giving greater offense by engaging with them. The Lady had many talents, but even under normal circumstances, putting on masks had never been one of them.

It had never been Hilde's either, come to think of it, but then things happened, and now…

She could do that now, couldn't she?

Hilde thought for a moment. She really was in no fit state for the plan she had in mind, but seeing Lady Ilse's pitiful struggle to master the resurgence of her grief and anger – not to mention Gisela's worry and powerlessness over it – she knew she had little choice.

Sighing, she thought, 'Here you go, then, Prick.'

From the others' perspective, Hilde broke the silence seemingly out of nowhere.

”Aunt Ilse,” she began, exuding a confidence and lightheartedness she did not really feel. ”Would you agree I cannot possibly do a worse job than you would at the moment? At diplomacy, I mean.”

Hilde didn't wait for an answer – the time that had elapsed with no response from their party was already too telling. Instead, she pulled rank on the confused man outside the window.

”Stop the carriage, Captain,” she ordered in a tone that implied she fully expected to be obeyed. However, his gaze shifted to Lady Ilse, wordlessly asking for confirmation. Hilde kept hers resolutely trained on his face. Using a softer voice and expression, she snatched his attention back by saying, ”Your Lady is in distress.”

That much was obvious enough for the captain to concede, but it was still not enough reason for him to follow Hilde's orders when it might contradict what the said Lady wanted – even if what she wanted ultimately spelled failed relations with another neighbor.

Hilde barely managed to keep an impatient sigh to herself. She was not presently at leisure to appreciate this lesson on loyalty and exemplary training.

With put-on calmness, and silently wishing she'd simply done so from the beginning, Hilde explained, ”I do not wish for my Aunt to suffer any unwanted company. If you would please lend me a horse, Captain, I would honor our guests by going in person to greet them. They could find no grounds for complaint then, even if my greeting IS late in the coming… and even if others in our party choose to defer theirs. Until after we've reached Oste, say?”

'Where Lady Ilse could hide behind cooler heads and tempers?' Though she did not say this part aloud, her pointed manner implied it. She got her meaning across.

During this exchange, Lady Ilse and her daughter had been too dumbfounded to do anything but stare at Hilde. The shock of her strange behavior was so profound that it even made the Lady forget her present ”distress.”

Yet it wasn't so much the way Hilde spoke, it was her reasons for doing so. And though she was hiding it well, it was still apparent to their knowing eyes how much she was straining herself, both physically and emotionally.

She was persisting. That in itself was not strange – she had always been single-minded, but that trait used to be reserved for her own pursuits. Now, she was doing it for the sake of preserving peace, both her country's and her aunt's.

Whether Hilde had always cared this much for either, neither of the women knew. This was certainly the first time they'd ever seen her showing it.

To Lady Ilse, it appeared as if their wayward princess had finally woken to the fact that, as the new second in line to the throne, she now bore a heavier responsibility. More importantly, it would seem that Hilde possessed the mental fortitude necessary to bear that burden, though it was too soon to tell if she would crumble or not under its weight. For now, Lady Ilse wouldn't reward her niece's efforts by shooting it down.

”Do as the Princess says,” she told the captain after three beats of tense silence. Immediately, the carriage, as well as their entire retinue, stopped. The carriage door opened right after, and a horse was brought before it.