Chapter 2 - The Resentment of Arveil, Retainer of the Marquess House
Inside the carriage that had begun to move, the one who opened his mouth was the retainer called Arveil.
"Why did you accept it so easily, my lady?"
He had a well-proportioned build, short dark brown hair, and deep green eyes.
His usually calm and gentle voice was now stiff.
Anger still seemed to be smoldering behind his handsome features.
"It was the command of the Crown Prince and the Regent.
I think those two suit each other well."
"I am not talking about that."
"That was also His Highness's command.
Besides, he wouldn't listen no matter what I said.
Even if I tried to act a little more humble now—"
Arialein, sitting opposite Arveil, shrugged her shoulders.
Well, that may be true, Arveil had to admit.
"In the first place, calling the annulment of an engagement between a Marquess's daughter and the Crown Prince 'that,' really?"
"Was it not you, my lady, who dodged the subject?"
Arveil's face soured again at Arialein, who had changed the subject teasingly.
"—It was only a matter of time.
It was an ill-matched engagement."
"That's a bit harsh, considering I am a member of your master's house."
"I am not talking about that."
Arveil responded without hiding his displeasure.
"I am saying it was ill-matched 'for' you, my lady."
His expression seemed to say, "You know this."
"—That way of speaking is disrespectful," Arialein said, averting her gaze to the window.
Her tone was not as accusatory as her words.
"It is disrespectful because I do not respect what should be respected."
"What you just said is the most disrespectful of all."
Arialein giggled and looked back.
"Then, shall we talk about the other 'that'?
I must make preparations once we return to the mansion.
Gather everyone as soon as we're back. I will speak to them."
"I have already sent someone to the mansion.
I told them to gather in the hall for the time being."
When they were getting into the carriage, he had sent one of the footmen who had accompanied them.
Arialein remembered that he had been exchanging words with someone after helping her inside.
"As expected of you, Arveil."
"You did say that you must dismiss the people at the mansion."
Arveil, who responded as if it were only natural, lowered his voice by an octave.
"—Are you serious?"
"It's true that I have to explain things to everyone.
The rest is, well, buying time. That was the only plausible excuse I could think of on the spot."
"I still don't understand, my lady.
No matter how I think about it, it is a groundless punishment. Why—"
Arialein let out a breath and shook her head.
"That doesn't matter.
They say the words of a King are like sweat; once they come out, they cannot be taken back.
Since he said it in that place, His Highness cannot retract it."
"He might not be able to retract it himself, but if you were to bow your head and beg for mercy, my lady..."
"That might be so. But I have no reason to apologize.
My head is not so cheap that I would lower it to beg for forgiveness for an irrational condemnation.
Besides, Arveil, did you notice?"
"Notice what?"
"When he said I wasn't fit to be a noble of the kingdom, his attendants tried to stop him, didn't they?"
"Yes, certainly."
"Which means, you see, that was a spur-of-the-moment idea in that place.
If it had been decided beforehand, there's no way he would have done something like that there."
"If it was a whim, then it is all the more reason.
To treat the daughter of a Marquess with great merit in such a way..."
"I told you, whether it's a whim or not, the words of a ruler are the words of a ruler.
Now that he's said it, he can't very well say 'I was wrong after all, sorry.'"
"But that is simply too much."
"The important thing is that it was just a whim.
He hasn't made any preparations. Even for an exile, all sorts of behind-the-scenes work and preparations are necessary."
"That may be so, but...
Then, assuming that is the case, what will you do after this?"
When Arveil asked, Arialein responded with a smile.
"It's already decided.
That man..."
Arialein's gray eyes took on a sharp, dangerous glint.
"He underestimated me, my father, and House Mares.
He thought that if he threatened me with exile, I would be terrified and beg for forgiveness, that I would grovel before him."
Arveil thought, This is how my lady is.
My lady is at her most vibrant when she has found an enemy to crush.
That was the expression Arialein had tried to hide from the Crown Prince.
"Grandfather taught me what to do in times like these."
"What did the previous lord say?"
"He asked me what the one thing House Mares, a house of martial prowess, should avoid most was.
I wonder how many dozen years ago that was; I was still just a child."
"How did you answer?"
As he asked, Arveil had a general idea.
"I answered that it would be losing."
The young Arialein's answer was exactly what Arveil had imagined.
Arveil asked with his eyes if that was the correct answer.
"Grandfather said that while winning is preferable, there are times when winning or losing is out of one's hands.
He said that more important than that is not to be underestimated.
He said the role of a martial house is to bring peace through military prestige without shedding unnecessary blood."
"And for that, it is vital not to be underestimated?"
"Exactly.
He said that if you are underestimated, you must make them understand."
A calm and intellectual Marquess's daughter—that was Arialein's public reputation.
But the current Arialein wore an expression that a calm and intellectual Marquess's daughter should never wear.
While conscious of a sensation crawling up his spine, Arveil asked.
"Will you fight? If so, I shall send word to the Mares Knight Corps in the capital—"
"Not now. I can't burn down the royal capital, and there's no chance of winning if we fight here."
"Then...?"
"There are ways.
I'll make him regret giving me three days of grace. Arveil,"
"Yes."
"It's going to be busy."
"—Yes."
*
As always, the carriage passed through the mansion gates and stopped at the carriage porch.
The faces of the attendants who approached as usual were much more tense than usual.
"Good work.
Leave only the minimum number of people and gather in the hall.
You can clean up the carriage and tools later."
Arialein spoke to the attendants as she stepped down from the carriage, her hand taken by Arveil.
The attendants responded with silent, polite bows.
To the servants who opened the doors of the main building, she added, "You too."
The normally quiet mansion was filled with small murmurs and the sound of footsteps coming from all over.
The order to assemble that Arveil had sent seemed to have already reached every corner of the mansion.
A tense yet somehow buoyant atmosphere.
Controlled, and at the same time, as if possessed by some kind of madness.
Searching the depths of his memory for what it felt like, Arveil realized it was the same atmosphere as a military camp before a battle.
Not now, but there are ways.
Inside the carriage, with something seething in her beautiful face, his lady had said that.
It wasn't that he didn't feel uneasy about what she would do and how.
However, his lady had also said it would be busy.
That meant the arrangements were already formed within her head.
No matter what those might be, Arveil thought as he walked down the corridor behind Arialein.
He would simply support her with all his might.
House Hazen Family Motto: "If underestimated, strike."