In a modest townhouse away from the main streets of Haven…259Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiiqW0A8WHY
A lady’s hands were pale, holding onto a riveted handkerchief that was neatly folded into a quarter. She sat on a cushioned chair, her knees pressed together, as she stared at the fireplace whose flames warmed her face, but it began to lose its strength. The heat grew weak. A vision suddenly burst alight from the shadows of the pit, and having seen its divine sign, she gently smiled again, remembering the voice that would caress her every night. That voice would never return, and the thought of everything that she had to face alone, having lost a third of her life, made her heart ache. The lady closed her eyes, and a tear streamed down her cheek when a knock on the door came unexpectedly, startling her.
The night was late, and the streetlights had been put out. Most of her neighbours had already blown out their candles and put their children to bed, and her home was the last to retire. It did not explain what anyone wanted of her at that hour. Nevertheless, she was forced to reel in her emotions before answering the door. Having wiped away her tears, she quietly made her way across the living room into the corridor where there was a faint draught. Within a few paces, the door was there, but after everything that had occurred that day, she feared for the worst. Her instinct as a mother turned her eyes upstairs, and she composed herself. Putting her handkerchief away, she hid a hand in her dress, holding onto the hilt of a hidden dagger. She placed her other hand on the door lock and prepared herself, not knowing who it was on the other side, but when she built up the courage to snap the lock back and open the door, it revealed a band of surprising visitors.
There was a group of uniformed boys and a girl standing guard at her entrance with their rifles, and before her were two who immediately bowed.
“Bite wretæhen eb jeg wecked, Fræfrau Renedtau, aben jeg bjeden wurisk bælæd. (I apologise if I have woken you, Lady Rantzau, but please accept my condolences.)” Among a squad of foreigners, the Danner lifted his head and placed a hand over his heart. “Jegisk lednened, Rækner heer, jeg nebaned de Fræher wen de ding widrefared und kommed undrehalder wit jegisk fræfrau. (My lieutenant, Reichner here, was with your husband when it happened and would like to speak with you.)” Julien introduced his friend and ushered him forward.
Arminius did not lift his head without being given permission to do so. “If the baroness will allow.” He politely added.
Seeing their innocent faces, the lady relaxed her grip on her knife and saw their comrades behind them, guarding her house on high alert as if the snow did not bother them. No matter how far they had travelled in the dark of night, even with the cutting wind freezing their lungs, they appeared before her home intent on conversation. If it was not their timing that told of their sincerity, nothing else would.
Guilt-ridden that it had to take soldiers of their age to come to her company when no one else would, she held onto Arminius’s arm and urged him to lift his head. Only then did the lieutenant do as granted, but when his eyes turned towards her, he saw pure sorrow.
Garbed in a white dress detailed with fabric roses under a cardigan and a short cape over her shoulders, her frame was slim as she tried to play every part of what a noblewoman should be, but it was clear that she had not yet grown accustomed to being called a lord-lady. She was young, as tall as Julien was, and was in her early thirties like her late husband. Her skin was fair, and the light that struck her face was evenly spread, which gave the boys the impression that she was younger than she really was. A dusting of snow fell on her blonde hair that had been braided into a bun, and the breeze dried her grieving eyes. Often, she had the expression of a timid, commoner girl, but perhaps, like the late Lord Mayor, it was all pretence, and beneath her humble facade was a force of wisdom and strength.
The lady turned to the boys and gave her reply. “Frælik, of course, I shouldn’t be keeping you in the snow for long.” Her voice was as kind as her intentions were, flustering that she had kept them waiting out in the open. “What about your comrades?” She sought to invite them in as well.
Many members of the squad looked over their shoulders in response to her offer before one lancer turned around and answered her. “We’ll be making sure no harm comes to you, my lady.” Arber assured her on behalf of his comrades, although they wished that he had kept quiet.
Lady Rantzau paused, surprised that they would turn down her invitation. She tried to discern whether the squad truly wanted to decline her invitation or not, but when she noticed their eyes averting—likely because it would have been embarrassing for some to accept after Arber’s words—she concluded that they were adamant on remaining outside and stepped back into her house. The warmth of the interior melted the snow on her head, and she gave way, gesturing for Julien and Arminius to enter. Letting his companion take the lead, Arminius looked back at his comrades, who began to chatter to make time pass, but they did not notice their lieutenant-elect, who thanked them before he followed Julien into the house and closed the door behind him.259Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡq9QZkARTm5
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