[V14C3] The Returned Sister and the Weirdo Who Came with the Handkerchief

Three days before the meeting between the Empire and the Kingdom of Ridill, Henrik Blanquet, Margrave of the frontier territory of Valmbelk, was reading a letter in his office.

“What…? Frieda was caught up in a magic tool incident at the Royal Palace and has fallen into a coma…?”

Henrik tightened his grip on the letter, causing the fine white paper to crinkle.

Then, he looked up from the letter and sighed in exasperation.

“…So why am I receiving this letter from you, Frieda?”

“Because it’s faster that way, Brother.”

His younger sister, Frieda Blanquet, who until recently had been comatose in critical condition, stated this as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Henrik had already heard that Ridill went through a lot of trouble around the end of spring.

There was a magic tool explosion at the palace that blew up a portion of the building, a dragon disaster at the royal capital, followed by a nationwide dragon disaster, and to top it all off, a black dragon appeared in Sazandol.

Henrik had grown more anxious with each report. He even sent letters to Frieda, urging her to return home.

And then, after regaining consciousness from her ordeal, Frieda apparently decided to ride her horse and report to her brother in person, barely a week later.

“The Albright family tried to stop me,” Frieda continued. “But I would reach Valmbelk faster by myself.”

“I mean, that’s true, but still…”

“More importantly, I heard there was going to be a diplomatic meeting in Valmbelk, so I came rushing back, thinking you would need my help.”

She said it so matter-of-factly, with a crispness that was unmistakably Valmbelk in nature.

Indeed, Frieda was skilled at horseback riding and familiar with the geography around Valmbelk, so there were plenty of shortcuts available to her. She could probably make the trip in a week or so.

Apparently, she departed the royal capital four days after Ridill’s Third Prince, Albert. The fact that she had easily overtaken him on the way spoke volumes about her capability.

Henrik leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling.

“Didn’t this kind of thing happen before? That time Dad got injured on the battlefield and fell off a cliff. We received a letter saying his chances of survival were abysmal… which he handed to us himself, perfectly safe and sound.”

Due to the chaos of the battlefield, informing the families of soldiers was often an afterthought.

Incidentally, their father was still alive and well, having thrust the title of margrave onto Henrik so he could rush onto the battlefields in the southern parts of the Empire.

The Empire was plagued by endless internal conflicts and skirmishes with barbarian tribes. Lately, the fighting had intensified in Glocken, a region in the Empire’s southeast rich in mines.

Valmbelk had not seen any fighting since the war with Ridill, but their forces were still frequently called upon for expeditions.

“So? Brother, are your preparations for the meeting on schedule?”

Despite the long months since the last time she saw her brother, Frieda didn’t seem sentimental in the slightest. She dove straight into the main topic.

Henrik stifled a sigh and looked out the window. Scattered blue-purple flowers were blooming in the potato fields surrounding the castle.

“Just barely, to be honest. Dragon disasters have gotten more frequent this spring, so they ruined some of the fields. The potatoes are blooming later than usual, and the expedition in the south is dragging on longer than expected…”

There was no manpower to spare for other tasks during the planting and harvesting seasons. If the crops failed, the people would starve and everything else would grind to a halt.

Henrik was already pessimistic, convinced that this year would be another harsh one.

(No, now that I think about it, every year has been a harsh one since I became lord…)

Valmbelk was certainly a remote region, but the Emperor did not neglect them. He gave them financial support every year to support the military and other projects, and even included funds for the upcoming meeting.

The only one to blame for Valmbelk’s poor management was Henrik himself, and he knew it.

“I’m just not cut out to be a lord…”

Henrik’s younger brothers were currently out serving other noble houses. But once they grew a little older, he would pass on the title and head to the battlefield himself, just like their father did.

Since his first campaign at the age of twelve, Henrik had always believed that the battlefield would be his grave.

That’s why he had no intention of taking a wife or having children. Because he knew it would only cause them suffering and tears.

“Brother,” Frieda interjected. “More importantly, aren’t Lord Birendahl and the delegation from Ridill supposed to arrive within a day or two? Do we have enough bedding for everyone? What about the food supplies? Have we prepared red and white wines for our Ridill guests?”

Seeing his sister so casually dismiss his worries with a “more importantly,” Henrik muttered, “How dependable…” with a wry smile.

His dependable sister was soon to be married off to a neighboring country, so he wouldn’t be able to rely on her forever. He needed to take his duties as lord more seriously.

(And for that, I have to make sure this meeting goes smoothly…)

Right as Henrik steeled his resolve, their grandfather poked his face through the crack in the door and started trembling upon seeing Frieda.

“Oh, oh! Frieda… You’ve returned… My granddaughter, listen closely… My time is short…”

“You said the same thing ten years ago, Grandfather.”

“I have one final request for you…”

“Is it a shoulder massage? Please wait until I finish cleaning.”

As Frieda rolled up her sleeves to begin cleaning, their grandfather clung to the door and continued in a frail voice.

“After I received the title of Sword Saint, many named their boys after me, hoping to share in my strength. Remember? There were even some in our neighborhood, right?”

“Yes, I remember hearing the complaints that five people with the same name in their extended family is causing problems.”

“Frieda, this is my final wish… If you ever have a son, pass on my name to him…”

“I refuse. That would be too confusing.”

Frieda curtly cut off her grandfather’s plea and got to work cleaning.

Henrik could only watch the back of his strong-willed sister, filled with new worries about whether she would manage well in her new home.

＊　＊　＊

The Imperial delegation headed for Valmbelk Castle entered the Valmbelk domain just as night fell, stopping at an inn to rest and let the horses recover. They would arrive at the castle by tomorrow afternoon.

The soldiers under General Strauss, who had volunteered to guard the delegation, tethered their horses and took turns keeping watch around the inn.

Shortly after midnight, one man standing guard was approached by his colleague, who had come to relieve him. The man who had been on watch held up his lantern and scowled.

“You’re late. Your shift was supposed to start a while ago.”

“Yeah, sorry. There was a bit of trouble with the luggage detail…”

The tardy man let out a weary sigh and continued grumbling.

“The weirdo who came with the handkerchief got mad for some reason.”

The weirdo who came with the handkerchief? What was that supposed to mean? The man with the lantern groaned at how little sense he could make out of it.

“What do you mean by that…?”

“You know how we’re sending gifts to Ridill, right? One of them is a super expensive lace handkerchief and the craftsman who made it forced his way into the delegation. Claimed it was for quality control or something.”

“…And he got mad? About what?”

“Well… when we moved the box into one of the inn rooms, he shouted, ‘Are you going to make my daughter sleep in such a dusty place!?’ or something.”

“What the hell…?”

“I don’t get it either. He even clutched some knitting needles and came at us yelling, ‘I’ll knit you to death! None of your body hair will ever come undone again!’ How do you even knit someone to death…?”

Apparently, the shift change was delayed because they were forced to appease the stubborn craftsman by cleaning the room.

After venting his frustrations, the tardy man glanced around a bit and lowered his voice.

“…But the bigger problem is, the weirdo works directly under the Black Lion Emperor. He might be onto us.”

“Which means…”

“Yeah,” the man nodded, further lowering his tone. “We’ll probably have to silence him.”

Henrik wrote ‘Ridill sounds like it’s in big trouble, are you okay!? Maybe you should stay with us for a bit??’ in his letter. But by the time it reached the Albright residence, Frieda was already in a coma and Ray had left for Sazandol.

After regaining consciousness and reading her brother’s letter, Frieda immediately decided to return to help him.

Ray made a huge fuss about wanting to go with her, but since he was one of the Seven Sages, the procedures for foreign travel would take time.

This is why Ray wasn’t in Sazandol for the final chapter of Gaiden 13.

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