[V3C1] The Margrave's Younger Sister

The Margrave of Valmbelk governed a region at the Schwalgard Empire’s western border. He was renowned for his bravery, gallantry, and martial prowess, said to be a skilled swordsman who excelled in feats of arms.

During the past war with the neighboring Ridill Kingdom, Margrave Valmbelk took the forefront, staunchly holding the enemy’s invasion at the border. His efforts played no small part in contributing to the imperial army’s victory.

His fierce and relentless style was likened to a beast slipping through enemy lines to tear out the throats of his enemies, earning him the nicknames “Western Wolf” and “War Wolf of Valmbelk.”

In a bygone era, Valmbelk could have easily become a sovereign nation, yet the Margrave continued to pledge allegiance to the empire and deny any opportunity for independence.

The Emperor held the Margrave in high esteem, bestowing him with the rare title of “Sword Saint,” making him one of the few in the empire’s history.

…But all of that was over fifty years ago.

The era in which the “War Wolf of Valmbelk” shined brightest was one of warfare. Martial achievements could be rewarded in times of frequent conflict, but in the relatively peaceful current era, such rewards were hard to come by.

While skirmishes occurred sporadically in the empire’s southern and eastern regions with various ethnic groups, the western border had seen no significant battles for decades. The last one was the war with the neighboring Ridill Kingdom.

Furthermore, Valmbelk’s land was far from fertile and suffered from common dragon attacks. Over the span of fifty years and two successions, the once celebrated Margrave of Valmbelk was now treated as a noble from the boonies.

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“Brother, Brother, Brother…!”

Frieda Blanquet, the sister of the current Margrave Valmbelk, flipped the hem of her apron and ran down the corridors with a broom in hand. Valmbelk Castle also served as a fortress, so its interior was unnecessarily intricate and expansive.

Holding up her skirt, Frieda leaped up the staircase two steps at a time with vigor.

Frieda was a tall and slender woman who turned twenty this year. With a slightly sharp gaze and short-cut, dull blond hair, she was often teased by village children to be mistaken for a man if she wore men’s clothing.

“BROTHER…!”

Frieda forcefully swung open the door to her brother’s office.

Henrik Blanquet, the current Margrave of Valmbelk, had been busy with paperwork at his desk. Startled, his shoulders made a small jump as he turned to Frieda with a stiff expression.

“W-What’s wrong, Frieda? Why the scary face…?”

Henrik was twenty-six, six years older than Frieda, and had only inherited the title of Margrave a few years ago. Resembling his sister, he was a slender young man with a lanky figure.

While their dull blond hair and gray eyes made them look alike, Frieda’s resolute gaze contrasted with her brother’s somewhat helpless demeanor.

Though Henrik seemed unaware of why his sister was angry, he suddenly widened his eyes, as if recalling something.

“Could it be that you’re mad about me giving Eda in the kitchen a gift for her first grandchild? It came from my pocket money, so can’t you forgive me for that…?”

“That has nothing to do with it! What I’m upset about is my engagement!”

“Geh…”

Henrik blatantly averted his gaze and began whistling poorly, resorting to a childlike diversion tactic. Frieda approached her brother’s desk with determined steps and slammed both hands onto the desk.

After a slightly foolish gasp, Henrik’s whistling came to a stop.

“You’ve been hiding the fact that there were marriage proposals for me, yes?”

“Well, you know. I thought there was no need to tell you, since you’re going to refuse either way…”

“Why would I refuse?!”

As Frieda shouted, Henrik pursed his lips.

“Because, you see, there were four marriage proposals… but all of them were somewhat problematic…”

“Four!?!” Frieda’s eyes widened, and Henrik reluctantly continued.

“The first one, Count Tsarli, is turning fifty this year…”

“Count Tsarli owns so many estates! Isn’t he wealthier than us!?”

“The second one, Baron Mauritz, already has four wives and is just looking for a mistress…”

“Baron Mauritz owns the mines! Isn’t he wealthier than us!?”

“The third one, Einhard… He hates me, so he’s trying to marry my sister out of spite. You’ll just get harassed all day…”

“Einhard, the rising star of the Imperial Guard! Isn’t he wealthier than us!?”

In response to his sister’s reactions, Henrik finally put both hands on his head and screamed.

“Oh, come on! Practically all the other nobles are wealthier than us!”

“I know! That’s why I can’t be picky about a marriage partner, right!?”

“Have some standards! I’d never sell out my sister!!”

Henrik was always concerned about his sister’s well-being, and prayed for her happiness. However, that alone couldn’t rebuild the declining House Valmbelk.

His younger brothers, who had been sent out for education, were constantly ridiculed for wearing old clothes and riding plow horses. Moreover, the castle couldn’t afford to hire staff, so Frieda, the sister of the Margrave, had to perform cleaning and bookkeeping.

Frieda had already sold off her few dresses and her hair to provide her brothers with proper swords. The only thing left to sell was herself.

“Brother, please rest assured. I’ve understood since I was born into a noble family that marriage is not something I can choose freely.”

“Frieda…”

“Whether it’s an impotent old man, a greasy lecher, or a sadistic pervert who takes pleasure in bullying me, I’m prepared to play the role of a good wife and endure it all.”

“You don’t need that much resolve! Think of a way to be happy!”

Henrik covered his face with both hands and broke down crying. While watching her brother’s pitiful appearance, Frieda voiced the question that had been on her mind.

“By the way, you mentioned there were four marriage proposals… So who is the fourth one?”

Frieda asked, hoping for a relatively wealthy family, and Henrik grew even more desperate than before.

With his gaze shifting right, then left, and finally downward, Henrik hesitated before uttering the name of the fourth suitor.

“The fourth one is… the head of House Albright in the Ridill Kingdom.”

House Albright. Frieda tilted her head at the unfamiliar name.

The Ridill Kingdom, in the first place, was the neighboring country of the Schwalgard Empire and their opponent in the war fifty years ago.

Since Valmbelk was at the westernmost edge of the empire, they were technically closer to Ridill than the imperial capital, allowing for trade interaction through the border.

However, Frieda had never been to Ridill, and she wasn’t well-versed in its domestic affairs.

“Is House Albright famous? More specifically, do they own many estates or mines?”

“…No, they are a bit special… It’s a lineage of shamans who serve the royal family.”

“Shamans?”

At the unfamiliar term, which wasn’t commonly heard in the empire, Frieda furrowed her brow. Meanwhile, a loud voice bellowed from behind her.

“Shamans! No! No!”

When Frieda turned around, her eyes met with a lean old man sitting in the corner of the room.

The elderly man had a body as thin as a withered tree and a long beard. His body was trembling even while sitting, but his gaze remained sharp.

This old man was none other than Teodor Blanquet, a key figure in the war fifty years ago, commonly known as the “Western Wolf” or the “War Wolf of Valmbelk.”

He held the rare title of “Sword Saint” in this country, and was also Frieda’s grandfather.

“Oh, Grandfather. You were here?”

“Shamans! No! Absolutely not!”

“Grandfather, do you know about House Albright?”

When Frieda asked, Teodor shook his trembling body vigorously.

“Argh, it was about ten years ago… We got ambushed during an advance, and amidst the arrows raining down like a downpour of rain, I pushed my way through the lightning-fast attacks of Ridill’s vicious Thunder Mage with just this sword…”

Teodor recounted the events of the war fifty years ago as if it happened ten years ago, so Frieda felt skeptical about her grandfather’s memory. Still, she continued asking the important questions.

“Yes, yes, I’ve heard countless times about your heroic deeds in the war. So, what kind of family is House Albright? Are they wealthy?”

“Are you even trying to hide it, Frieda…?”

Henrik let out a pained mutter, but Frieda ignored her brother and pressed her grandfather for answers.

“Please tell me, Grandfather. What is House Albright?”

“They… they use dreadful curses. Especially the Second Abyss Shaman, ugh… ah, how much I suffered at her hands…! She cast an irreversible curse on me…!”

While Frieda had heard her grandfather’s tales of valor since childhood, hearing about the Abyss Shaman for the first time intrigued her.

Perplexed, Frieda turned to her brother, and Henrik, as if supplementing their grandfather’s words, explained about the Abyss Shaman.

It turned out that the Abyss Shaman bore over a hundred curses on his body, making him a fearsome master of shamanic arts. In Ridill, he was considered one of the Seven Sages, the pinnacle of mages.

Moreover, the Seven Sages held the title of “Mage Count,” which was equivalent to the position of an imperial count.

“The current Abyss Shaman is the third generation, twenty-three years old. About two years ago, he lifted a curse placed on the second prince of Ridill, and the king commended him favorably. His mastery of curses is highly praised within the country.”

At twenty-three, he was close in age to Frieda, so it didn’t sound like a bad proposal. However, for Frieda, the most crucial aspects were not the age, personality, nor the appearance of her prospective fiancé.

“So, is House Albright wealthy?”

“…Regarding the sum they presented for this engagement, it’s this amount…”

Her brother pointed to the figure, and Frieda calculated the numbers on her mental abacus.

The amount proposed by House Albright was, by all means, exceptional to marry Frieda, who was not especially young nor rich in dowry.

“With this much money, we can repair the castle and the stable, and even hire more servants! Rather than eating potatoes and bean soup all day, we can finally put rye bread on the dinner table!”

Frieda lifted her head and stared directly at her brother.

“I will marry into House Albright. Thank you for taking care of me until now, Brother.”

“Aren’t you being a bit too hasty!?”

Her brother screamed in response to the declaration, as her trembling grandfather insisted, “Shamans are scary…!”

However, Frieda couldn’t hear her brother and grandfather at all. Her head was filled with all the new farming tools she could purchase.

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