KKM The Incomprehensibility of Conrad Weller
It was hard to figure out Conrad Weller. Everybody inevitably and always thought that, even the ones closest to him. It was the smile that threw people off initially – that well-known smile, pure and sweet and genuine. It reminded them of childhood and their innocent days; it took them to places of fond memory and persuaded them to forget their cares, like a favorite stuffed animal or a well-loved blanket – or a pacifier.
The ladies, noble and low, delighted in it and would gather in clusters when he smiled, birdbee's flocking to passion lily pollen. The old men harrumphed over it and winked appreciatively, harking back happily to the days when they were that debonair. Conrad's mother and even stuffy Uncle Stoffel were as fond as the ladies – the lovingkindness of that smile calmed Cheri, often when nothing else could. The reassuring curve and hint of a dimple soothed even an irritable Stoffel into amiability, smoothing his oft-ruffled feathers to rest.
Only the canny realized Weller used his smile sometimes as a weapon, another sharp object in his endless arsenal, good for slicing hearts, depressing pretentions and charming the general populace, convincing whosoever was subjected to its warm brilliance that all was in order - at least on the surface, and even if it was most definitely not. Gwendal admired this hypnotic ability of his brother's, as he admired all skills used suitably for a purpose. Gunter regarded it more as a necessary evil, serving young Lord Weller much like his own swooning and carrying on and excellent swordsmanship served him. Neither Mazoku were particularly susceptible, though both agreed Conrad's famous grin was awfully nice to look at.
Wolfram ignored it. He didn't like being lied to, nor smiled at when he didn't deserve it. Besides, he'd seen Conrad's real smile once or twice before in its full glory, back when Julia von Wincott was still around, and that was the one he remembered nostalgically from his long ago childhood – not the potent, false enchantment Weller-kyo sported these days. Indeed, Wolf wasn't about to allow his reluctant fiancé to get too close to Conrad's smile or become too blinded by its fulsome dazzle. Wolfram was always keeping a sharp eye out for danger.
For Yuuri, Conrad's smile - real or fake, or whatever - was nearly the best thing about Shin Makoku for ages. He relied on it, looked forward to it, tried his utmost to earn it and accepted it gratefully when his spirits were low. And, of course, being his adorable, earnest self and being Conrad's dearest godson and also the living, breathing keeper of his godfather's dear Julia's soul, the Maou more often than not was blessed with the genuine gemstone and not that fool's gold Weller made available to the general public. Yuuri succeeded where most had failed: he was one of the very, very few who could make Conrad's famous smiles into things of substance, a danger that really only Yuuri's fiancé could actually appreciate.
Of course, Lord Weller had other points in his favor. His swordsmanship for one; his loyalty, for another. His levelheadedness and grace under pressure. His undeniable good looks and well-made body. His willingness to trust in someone who often appeared foolish, and incompetent, and young, a feat nearly as mysterious as his smile. Those who met him seldom dwelt on the fact that Conrad hated to be touched casually 'though he had no objection to doling out a hearty handshake or a friendly slap on the back; nor wondered at his amazing ability to appear coolly oblivious when certain red-headed war buddy flirted outrageously; nor even boggled at his curious willingness to martyr himself for his willful younger brother. These aspects of his character, though at times conflicting, were more accessible by far than the hidden motivation behind his smile.
Indeed, there was much that was incomprehensible about the elegant Conrad Weller, second son of the 26th Maou. Everyone agreed on that but it wasn't so important that it took away from his undeniable charm; indeed, it enhanced it. His loved ones - they knew who they were - allowed his air of competent inscrutability to flourish unchallenged and even jealously guarded his reputation in his occasional absence. After all, wasn't it proof of their love for Conrad to accept everything, even what is deliberately hidden, and avoid prying? Was it not affection of the highest degree to allow their Hero his cloak of mystery?