◇◇◇ The Riefenstahl Family

It was two weeks into the summer break. Fiene was in the middle of adjusting to life in the fortified Riefenstahl manor. Things were so comfortable it was scary.

At first, Fiene had shown up with all the ado of a girl sleeping over at her friend’s house. Her eyes had gone white upon seeing the grand, dignified mansion—and more importantly, the servants that busily walked its halls. Still, after a couple of weeks with Lieselotte helping her along, she had managed to at least stop cowering in fear at this lifestyle.

Of course, Fiene couldn’t totally relax like Lieselotte. A commoner at heart, it was too much to ask to feel at home when countless servants waited on her every need.

However, Lieselotte had grown keen on the idea of raising Fiene into a proper lady, and the past few days had been laden with personal classes on aristocratic etiquette.

“Any guest of mine ought to be able to participate in a tea party at minimum,” she’d said. These words opened the curtain on a series of well organized lessons that were both strict and filled with care. As a blueborn noble fated to one day take the seat of queen, Lieselotte was the perfect example to learn from.

However, Lieselotte’s form was so ideal, so perfect, that Fiene’s incompetence stood out all the more. As a result, every lesson caused her to feel a little down.

Just like now. The two girls were sitting in an arbor that overlooked the expansive rose garden of the mansion’s yard. Though a slight tension filled the air, they were enjoying a nice tea time together.

“You’ve gotten much better, Miss Fiene. You would hardly embarrass yourself in public at this rate.”

Lieselotte smiled gracefully. Her natural elegance stole Fiene’s breath away, and the commoner sighed.

“No, I’m still far from perfect.”

As Fiene spoke, a tinge of sadness caused her to slump forward a tiny amount. Lieselotte’s gaze instantly shot toward her, putting her on edge. She straightened herself back out in a hurry—of course, without making it seem like she’d been in a rush.

“Very good,” Lieselotte said. “Still, I genuinely do think you’re a wonderful learner, Miss Fiene.”

Fiene smiled, slightly embarrassed. She humbly explained herself.

“When I was little, my mother would dedicate one day a week to playing princess. It was a game where my mother would play princess first, and then I would copy her. When I noticed that your mannerisms were similar to our old game, I began putting my old training into practice, which is why I’m barely managing to keep up.”

When Fiene and her mother had played, points would be docked if Fiene failed to act the part of a proper princess. When she succeeded, points would be awarded. Depending on how well she did, the quality of their dinner would change.

Fiene’s innate gluttony had led her to try her absolute hardest. Eventually, her mother had decided that she was good enough, and thus Fiene’s days playing princess had come to a close. Regardless, those precious memories now lived on in Fiene’s conduct.

“Oh, so the groundwork had already been laid. You have a wonderful mother. Even then, I would say you are much, much, much easier to teach than my sisters. I especially adore how well-behaved you are... Honestly, I have three whole sisters, so I wish at least one of them would be as respectful as you.”

Lieselotte heaved a heavy sigh, and a deep wrinkle appeared on her brow. Truth be told, the three younger Riefenstahls had been meant to join Fiene for a lesson in etiquette, but none of them were here. Today, all of them had managed to escape.

“Lady Adelina and Lady Katrina are still twelve, and the younger Lady Cecilie is only nine. At their ages, I can understand why they’d prefer to go play.”

Fiene tried her best to cover for them, but Lieselotte’s expression didn’t budge. That she hadn’t managed to catch a single one today must have left her feeling frustrated.

“Oh!” Fiene exclaimed. The rare occurrence of all three of the little ladies managing to evade tea time brought something to mind: this meant that none of Baldur’s potential marriage candidates were present.

Lieselotte tilted her head curiously. Fiene steeled her will, deciding to open up and ask Lieselotte for advice. Ever since Fiene had come to this estate and gotten to know the young tomboys in question, she’d been even more perplexed than ever.

“Speaking of which...”

————

Fiene put everything on the table. She talked about Baldur’s pseudo-confession; about how she felt troubled knowing her place in society; and about how a betrothed man saying such things was far too thoughtless, even if the engagement wasn’t set in stone.

Lieselotte pressed a hand to her forehead upon hearing the story. She’d frozen in place with a terrible look on her face. It took a few moments of Fiene awkwardly staring at her for Lieselotte to finally break her silence with a long, heavy sigh. Still somber, she began to speak.

“I’m so sorry... Bal is exceptional with a sword, but he is stupid beyond words.”

Faced with this overt declaration, Fiene smiled noncommittally. She neither denied nor agreed with the statement, but shifted her gaze.

Lieselotte continued on while pressing her fingers against her temples.

“I doubt that he even realizes he’s in love, much less the fact that he’s already aggressively flirted with you.”

“I figured...”

The two girls sighed in unison.

“At first, I thought, ‘Wait, is he hitting on me?!’ but he seemed so dispassionate, and he wasn’t the slightest bit embarrassed. Then I figured that maybe Sir Bal thought what he was saying was just a matter of fact. Do you think so too?” Fiene asked, worried from the bottom of her heart.

Lieselotte had been raised alongside Baldur like the two were siblings. Her understanding of him led her to nod with a dry smile.

“Unfortunately so. Bal genuinely thinks with all his soul that you are so unfathomably and objectively adorable that his inability to defeat you is a matter of course. I’m sure of it.”

“That’s the most subjective thing I’ve ever heard! He’s wearing the rosy goggles of love!” Fiene screamed, head literally held in her hands with only her bright-red ears poking out.

While this wasn’t very becoming for a lady, Lieselotte had forgotten to care. The only emotion that came through her amethyst eyes was unbridled fury at her absent cousin.

“Bal has been like this forever. He’s unresponsive to the subtleties of emotion, including his own. It’s as if he makes his decisions based on instinct alone... What I’m trying to say is that he is stupid.”

“Wait, isn’t that kind of bad? Is it really all right for someone like him to inherit a marquisate?”

The words left Fiene’s lips before she could think, and she quickly covered her mouth. No matter the circumstance, she worried that she may have gone too far. However, Lieselotte didn’t seem to care one bit and merely nodded.

“For years, our family has been full of people whose muscles extend well into their skulls. The head of the family hires a capable advisor to manage our affairs each generation. What’s more, Riefenstahls are incredibly sensitive to hostility—Bal included—so it ends up working out. Still, their talents for the sword and sensing animosity are more intuitive than not; it isn’t as if they’re thinking about what they’re doing. And, well, essentially... I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for all the trouble he’s caused.”

Lieselotte went so far as to lower her head in apology, causing Fiene to shake her own in a panic.

“No, it’s fine! I’m well aware of my social standing, so I wasn’t taking him seriously! I just thought that it’d be nice if you could give him a warning, Lady Lieselotte. You know, something like, ‘Don’t go around seducing women when you’re already engaged,’” Fiene said with a weak smile.

Lieselotte raised her head and straightened her back perfectly. Her powerful gaze met Fiene’s and she uttered a single sentence.

“I shall beat him to a pulp.”

“...Th-Thank you very much?”

Fiene thanked Lieselotte, though she was somewhat frightened by the intensity of Lieselotte’s statement.

“Uh, um, when you say, ‘beat him to a pulp,’ you mean...emotionally or something, right?”

Fiene suddenly began to worry about Baldur’s health and safety. However, the only response she received was an elegant grin that left her befuddled. Just as she started rehearsing the steps needed to cast healing magic on another person, Lieselotte sighed dejectedly.

“However, I suspect that fool has begun to catch on to his feelings for you, Miss Fiene.”

Fiene froze in astonishment, at a loss for words.

“As soon as the summer break began, Bal met with my father at the royal palace and apparently tried to return our family sword. He said he couldn’t hold onto it as he isn’t guaranteed to be the next Riefenstahl head. My father is thoroughly infatuated with him, so he begged and pleaded for Bal to take the sword home, and eventually won out. Still, that begs the question: does he plan to forsake his noble title?”

Lieselotte delivered the news with an air of boredom, but Fiene could not have been more stunned. Fiene tried to object, but the words clung to her dried throat. She extended a shaky hand to her teacup and slowly drank her black tea.

“He...He can’t—no, he can’t do that.”

After wetting her mouth with a sip of tea, Fiene just barely managed to wring out a reply. In contrast, Lieselotte tilted her head, thinking nothing of Baldur’s actions.

“Who knows? Bal may be the eldest son, but he has two brothers and a sister. Should he find himself wrapped up in a serious scandal—say, one where he breaks off his engagement to woo a commoner girl—I’m sure House Riefenstahl would have no choice but to disown him. Besides, at this point, his promise to marry one of my sisters is a mere verbal agreement for the distant future.”

“W-Wait a second! I don’t want that! Noble titles aside, I don’t want him to throw away his home and family for me! That’s way too heavy, not to mention sad!” Fiene shouted in a panic.

Lieselotte knew Baldur—or rather, the entire Riefenstahl bloodline—well. She knew that once they fell in love, they would fervently pursue that yearning until the end of time. Her own experience devoting herself to her own romantic endeavors left her unable to come down too harshly on him.

“I suppose so...” With a vague comment, Lieselotte turned to the sky, lost in thought.

Fiene was desperate to try and convince Lieselotte to stop him, but had no idea what to say. She took another sip of black tea to try and calm herself down, but could no longer taste the flavor. Silence ruled over them for an extended moment.

“Very well, I understand. I shall speak to Bal.”

Hearing Lieselotte say this, Fiene beamed with joy.

“However... Let me first preface this by saying this is only a possibility,” Lieselotte said clumsily. She still refused to meet Fiene’s gaze as she continued, “When I speak to Bal, there is a chance that he’ll say, ‘So I am in love with Miss Fiene,’ and immediately elect to secede from House Riefenstahl. And when I say there’s a chance of this happening, I mean to say that this is probably going to happen.”

Fiene tilted her head. She looked as serious as could be.

“...Even though we’re not dating?”

If they’d already been lovers, she could have understood. However, the two of them were mere school friends. There was no need for him to forsake his title. Even if he did, there was no guarantee that their relationship would progress past this point. There wasn’t a single reason for Baldur to withdraw from House Riefenstahl, or so Fiene thought.

Lieselotte spoke very slowly, as if she were teaching a young child.

“Bal—Baldur Riefenstahl—is a man who will sort out his affairs before seriously attempting to win your heart. Should he lose his title, his family, all of my sisters, his sword, his knighthood, and even you, he will still press on without any regret. That’s the kind of person he is.”

Lieselotte looked Fiene straight in the eye as she spoke. Fiene could tell her gaze was packed with certainty and faith in her cousin, and this brought a tear to the commoner girl’s eye.

“But...But...But that’s no good at all!”

“It isn’t. He isn’t. My twin sisters both cry, ‘There’s no way Bal’s clever enough to handle a political marriage! He’ll definitely break off the engagement at some point! We will never, ever, ever get engaged to him!’ You can only describe that thing as ‘no good.’ There isn’t any use pointing it out now.”

Baldur had at long last been reduced to a mere “thing” in Lieselotte’s mind.

In truth, Fiene didn’t hate Baldur and his straighforwardness. But her lack of distaste for him only worsened her troubles. She couldn’t think of a way to stop him from willingly throwing himself into a despair-inducing situation, and that thought brought her to the brink of tears.

“Then...Then what am I supposed to do?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Would it be too much to ask for you to marry him as a commoner and live together happily?” Lieselotte’s question was accompanied by a smile.

“I can’t,” Fiene replied instantly, and she shook her head. “I would never be able to forgive myself for making him throw away everything. There’s no way I could live happily like that.”

Lieselotte’s expression returned to weariness as she sighed.

“I suppose that’s true... Honestly, what are we meant to do? Miss Fiene, you wouldn’t happen to be the illegitimate daughter of my father, would you?”

If she were, then she could be accepted as the marquis’s daughter and it would be easy to marry her off to Baldur. Furthermore, Lieselotte had always wanted a mild-mannered sister, so it would be perfect.

Alas, Lieselotte’s wishful fantasy was shattered by a teary-eyed Fiene.

“Of course not! Think about it: if I were, then based on our birthdays, your father would have been having an affair while you were still in the womb! Can you imagine how much chaos that would cause?!”

Lieselotte knew from her parents’ relationship that her hopes were impossible, but that didn’t stop her from genuinely wishing for it. She and Fiene’s gazes met, and the two of them sighed in sync.