Fated Across Worlds

Homecoming (3)

"You were not seen by those delegates?" Lady Ilse asked the soldier. His elaborate ceremonial armor would have tipped off an infant that he served royalty.

"I don't believe so, Lady. I never entered the building. The Innkeeper himself came out after being alerted of my approach."

Lady Ilse absently nodded in appreciation of the unknown man's forethought. "You've offered this Innkeeper a token in my name, of course?"

"I did, Lady. He said the pleasure of being of service to you was its own reward."

By that, every listener understood that the Innkeeper was one of Lady Ilse's admirers. Despite the situation, the princesses smiled and the lone maid giggled. Even the Lady allowed a corner of her mouth to lift.

"I'll have to remember to thank him in person," she said.

By then, their retinue was in view of the town's market square, whose usually colorful ambiance was dulled by numerous gray banners put up by the citizens in honor of their slain Prince. Lady Ilse turned to meet Hilde's eyes, who'd anticipated the move and was prepared.

With false and rather venomous sweetness, Hilde stated, "If we are to be forced by courtesy to eat and travel with those people, my throwing up will be the least of their problems."

"Good," Lady Ilse replied with a single, approving nod. She then gave the order: "We do not stop."

Thus did they abandon their earlier plans in favor of taking advantage of the half-hour the Lysean contingent would stay at the Royal Inn. In that time, they would reach the southern gate on the other end of town and be out of Akelei before the Lyseans were any the wiser. They would then race for the next outpost to change their horses, take their planned meal, and wait for the faster-paced foreigners to pass them by.

They reasoned: even if the delegates were to learn that members of Arnica's royal family quite literally went out of their way to avoid the much-hated but still-important visitors, they'd surely pretend ignorance while giving the ladies silent thanks for sparing both parties the ordeal.

That was how it should have gone anyway.

"Lady!" the captain of the soldiers called as he rode up to the carriage. They were now in a deserted stretch of country road five minutes out of Akelei. "There is a convoy two hundred meters on our tail. They are hailing us for permission to approach."

Everyone watched as Lady Ilse closed her eyes against the swift rise of her fury.

It was Gisela who ventured, "Is it…?"

The captain nodded despite the unfinished question. "They appear to be the Lysean delegates."

***

With that undesirable confirmation, Lady Ilse's blazing eyes flew open. Past gritted teeth, the ever-proper woman eloquently articulated, "The shits!"

"We must have been spotted, after all," Gisela said. It was yet another testament to how deeply Arnican hatred ran for their neighbor that even Gisela's demeanor had become almost chilly—"almost," because Hilde doubted her saint of a cousin was capable of being cold to anyone.

"But why didn't they leave it well enough alone?" Hilde mused, deeply annoyed. She was hungry, she was dizzy, and she was hurting all over. Even if she had been inclined to, she couldn't possibly put on a civil act in her condition.

"Lady?" the captain ventured, waiting for the only reasonable response Lady Ilse could make.

Since their escape had failed, they could not now refuse to acknowledge the Lyseans without giving inexcusable offense. National sentiments aside, that was not something they could afford to do, especially with the current situation in the north.

However, there was a good reason avoidance had been Lady Ilse's first choice.

Irrational or not, "all is fair in love and war." The Kingdom of Lys won the last conflict in their centuries-long history of waging wars with each other. That time around, Arnica had had to surrender a considerable chunk of its western territory. But while their defeat tasted bitter, it had been "fairly" accomplished by the enemy.

In the same vein, Lady Ilse was a woman deeply in love with a husband who’d died in that war. She cannot "fairly" be expected to pretend she didn't want to tear every Lysean's face on sight.

That is to say, they actually risked giving greater offense by engaging with them. The Lady had many talents, but even under normal circumstances, putting on masks had never been one of them.

It had never been Hilde's either, come to think of it, but then things happened, and now…

She could do that now, couldn't she?

Hilde thought for a moment. She really was in no fit state for the plan she had in mind, but seeing Lady Ilse's pitiful struggle to master the resurgence of her grief and anger—not to mention Gisela's worry and powerlessness over it—she knew she had little choice.

Sighing, she thought, 'Here you go, then, Prick.'

From the others' perspective, Hilde broke the silence seemingly out of nowhere.

"Aunt Ilse," she began, exuding a confidence and lightheartedness she did not really feel. "Would you agree I cannot possibly do a worse job than you would at the moment? At diplomacy, I mean."

Hilde didn't wait for an answer—the time that had elapsed with no response from their party was already too telling. Instead, she pulled rank on the confused man outside the window.

"Stop the carriage, Captain," she ordered in a tone that implied she fully expected to be obeyed. However, his gaze shifted to Lady Ilse, wordlessly asking for confirmation. Hilde kept hers resolutely trained on his face. Using a softer voice and expression, she snatched his attention back by saying, "The Lady is in distress."

That much was obvious enough for the captain to concede, but it was still not enough reason for him to follow Hilde's orders when it might contradict what the said Lady wanted—even if what she wanted ultimately spelled failed relations with another neighbor.

Hilde barely managed to keep an impatient sigh to herself. She was not presently at leisure to appreciate this lesson on loyalty and exemplary training.