Halkegenia Online v2.0 – Chapter 9
In the social life of a young aristocrat, association was everything. What circles one moved in, what events one was invited to, were paramount considerations. This was something that Guiche had internalize from a young age.
To be invited to a Royal Gala should be the highlight of any Noble's calendar. To be a guest of honor, receiving the personal thanks of the Crown for services rendered could be the defining moment of a lifetime. Such a boon would be seen by the powerful and noted by peers as a sign that ones career was destined to go far. In military circles, perhaps all the way to a generalship.
Fed on stories of bravery and heroism, half from his father, half from his brothers, long had Guiche held ambitions to make his reputation through gallant and noble action. An achievement to be proud of. A credit to his family.
And now, seemingly by accident, those ambitions would be fulfilled. He was to be given honors for his part in twice safeguarding the life of Prince Wales Tudor, humble though it was, and by keen observation, supplying the order of battle of the fleet stationed at York. Even his own brothers, accomplished Noble Officers of Tristain to the last, could not boast so much.
But now that he had attained the praise and admiration he had hoped for, it couldn't have felt more hollow. He was to be honored, yes, along with his father and the others who had fought at Newcastle and York. But his actions were hardly those of a hero.
To his shame, Guiche had not fought in the battle. To his greater shame, he was grateful for that.
In fact, circumstances had contrived to make his greatest contribution the simple act of stumbling about from one disaster to the next, when he wasn't cowering behind a waif nearly half a head shorter than himself. Other than that, all that he'd managed to do was survive, mostly by accident. And yet was to be congratulated, by the Princess no less!
It was one thing to receive honors for ones accomplishments, confident in the knowledge that one was deserving. It was another thing entirely to know that he was unworthy. But that wasn't how others seemed to see it.
A few short weeks ago, Guiche would have said it didn't matter so long as the mission was accomplished well enough. He would happily have taken credit, or so he thought. But since then, he had seen so many people more worthy than himself. Soldiers who had understood that they went to face death. One perhaps more than any of the others.
Yet he admitted to himself guiltily, he didn't even know her fate. Nor did anyone else it seemed for his efforts to discover the whereabouts of Miss Midori had come to nothing. If she had survived, she had disappeared back into the same shadows from which she had appeared, while he was left to claim credit for their mission unjustly.
It had gnawed at him endlessly these past weeks. Normally, it would have been bearable. He could ignore it so long as Newcastle was not mentioned, a difficult enough thing as his friends had wanted to hear every details of his adventure. Here at the Gala it would be impossible to avoid it. He dreaded it.
Guiche had not been his flamboyant self since arriving at the Palace, he had answered slowly when spoken to, accepting congratulations only reluctantly from his family's friends and political allies. It had of course infuriated Montmorency as she clung closely to his side, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity and he was decidedly not using it to its fullest. But Father had not intervened save to take him aside.
His Father had noticed the melancholy of his youngest son almost from the moment they had set foot on the Palace grounds, arriving by Alvis Driven carriage at the special dispatch of the Crown. The iron horses had trotted in perfect unison under the direction of their mage driver up to the gates.
The Baron, normally strict with his youngest son, had softened ever so slightly since Guiche had returned from his first taste of combat.
"Chipper up Lad." Gramont the elder instructed firmly. "Today is for merrymaking, fine wine, fine food, and fine women."
His father added the final comment while looking appreciatively to the eldest daughters of Baron Malvin who were gathered with their friends at the near corner of the palace lawn. They were extraordinarily beautiful, contrasted brunette and blonde, identically full figured. Guiche was sure he could do something with that, something poetic and beautiful. But his heart wasn't in it today.
"I thought it was an opportunity to politic?" Guiche thought out loud.
That was of course how Monmon put it, always a deft hand when it came to social events, playing every angle like her own father and elder siblings. It was what had allowed the Montmorency's to recover what influence they had after the disastrous abuses of previous generations and was now need more than ever having been afflicted with the appearance of Fortress City of Gaddan right in heart of their ancestral holdings.
His father scowled. "Well, there is that too." He agreed with a last wistful look to the Malvins. "There is still some time I suppose, perhaps a walk around the grounds would do you well."
Guiche smiled weakly, not because he felt like it, but because it was expected and he couldn't bare to see his father displeased on a day he should be elated. "Of course, you are right." He said. "If you do not mind father, I shall take that advice."
He had departed his father's company as swiftly as he dared, finding Montmorency and retrieving her from a gaggle of other Noble daughters. She fumed at first to be taken away, but her mood cooled as they quickly found quiet away from the other party goers.
The evenings events wouldn't fully start for a while now, outdoor festivities to begin with. Their would be food and music of course, and a special display of fireworks courtesy of the Alchemists of the Capital and their Faerie associates who together claimed to have devised several new concoctions to astound and amaze the populace. Such things appealed to Noble and Commoner alike, and so most were waiting with rapt anticipation.
Only as the evening progressed would things move inside to the grand ballroom where an announcement from Queen Marianne was planned to take place. No one seemed to know the exact nature of the coming address, only that it was to be the climax of the evening's festivities. It was almost intriguing enough to shake Guiche from his stupor.
"Are you listening?"
"Hmm?" Guiche blinked a few times, remembering himself.
"I said," Montmorency shot him with a glare, "Have you been listening to a word I've said?" Her expression softened. "Or did you drift off again?"
Had he drifted off again? Guiche wondered. He supposed he had. What was the last thing he remembered her saying? Something about . . . about rosebuds he thought. It was enough to elicit a laugh which caused Montmorency to look at him with real worry.
One hand reached out, touching his shoulder gently. "Are you sure that you're alright?"
Ah sweet Monmon, so gentle when she was not being a firebox!
They were well away from most of the guests now, walking along a path partially hidden among the trees. The faint hissing of a distant fountain and the chirping of the birds was the only noise of note.
"Of course!" Guiche assured quickly, "Of course I'm . . . I . . ." He trailed off once more, turning away from her. " . . . I'm just such a damnably petty fool is all. A fool, and coward, and I . . ."
Warm arms encircled him from behind, head coming to rest against his back. He was frozen in place less by the restrain than by the action. "Then shush."
And so he did, only listening, and breathing until the pressure around his waist abated, Monmon's hands falling free. She turned him around, smiling up at him as she cupped his face in her hands. "Guiche de Gramont, you are the most pitiful, two timing, womanizing, cheat that I will ever have the displeasure of having the company of. But you are no fool, and you are no coward."
"Oh . . . r-really?" Guiche mumbled. "And how would you know if I am or not?" He averted his gaze. He didn't want to look into her eyes, didn't want to see the expectation that had been growing there.
"That's easy." Monmon assured him. "You can't be a fool, because you're scarred to death of dying in this war."
"And that doesn't make me a coward?" Waking in the night, screaming, exhausted from the terror that invaded his dreams? The sight of Captain Wardes placing his sword through the Prince Valiant, that blasted, smiling abomination on the docks.
The blonde water mage huffed under her breath. "And like I was going to say. You can't be a coward because you're still standing, even though you're terrified."
Guiche shook his head slowly. Did she really think that made him brave? "Hardly at all. It is merely what is expected of me. Father would have it no other way." He reached down, adjusting the cuff of his jacket. Embroidered in gold thread on the cuff was a stylized A and B, the seal of Auch and Benolit, the tailors that his father had been using since he himself was a young man and had almost religiously recommended to his acquaintances.
Where Montmorency was dressed in her best, pearl bracelets and necklaces, her ballroom gown, a flattering thing of white and soft aqua that gathered up at the waist before spilling down into a shimmering waterfall of skirts. Guiche had been instructed by his father to represent the martial traditions of the Gramont line as was fitting.
Having volunteered, or rather, been volunteered for the army, Guiche was permitted to wear the uniform of a Noble Officer. It was a sight that had filled his father with pride as he stood before the tailors mirrors, having the uniform expertly fitted to his thin frame. When at last the tailors had finished, he had looked every inch his father's younger self.
Coat buttoned, his scabbard as his side, no wand sword, not yet, though he was permitted the uniform, that symbol of a mage officer would have to wait until he had completed the abridged training courses at Champ de Mars. It would not be long yet, they would be starting their training in only a few days time as the first of the young aristocrats made their way to the Capital.
Although the future remained uncertain, the raising of the army had been made a paramount concern of the Crown. Funds had already been released to hire more mercenary troops to bolster the garrisons, or more rarely to raise troop levies, and the Navy had been placed at its highest level of readiness with every ship fully manned and ready to be brought under way with less than six hours notice.
The sudden expansion of the armies demanded officers. Officers to lead, and officers to administer, mostly among the lowest ranks. As was the tradition of the Nobility, young aristocrats had been called on by their sovereign to serve in the defense of the Kingdom, and that call had been answered.
Guiche had already received letters from his school friends, Malicorn and Reynard, that they would be among the first to arrive for training. He doubted they would be ready for it.
'Am I ready for it?' Guiche knew that he was not. Now that he had come so close to death, the idea paralyzed him. But like he had told Monmon, like the good son, his feet moved him forward not by his own command, marching him to meet his death. Because that was what was expected of him now.
"No."
"Pardon?" Guiche blinked.
"I said no. This isn't about what's expected of you, not really." Montmorency insisted. "What is it about you that's changed, Guiche?" She asked as if he could possibly have the answer. "You've been a quieter soul these past few weeks. Not up to your usual antics."
He chuckled softly. "I would have thought you'd have wanted it that way?"
"What I want," Monmon pushed herself away from him, "Is for my boyfriend to be himself! What happened? I know you haven't been telling me everything."
Finally, he looked her in the eyes, and realized that she wasn't going to take no for an answer, and unfortunately, he didn't have the energy for most of his evasions at the moment. Maybe he really should just tell the truth. That would be a new leaf for him. He'd always been an honest person of course, if one counted obviously lies as honesty.
"You won't like the answer that I have to give." He admitted.
"Try me." She was giving him that look, the one that his Father said all women shared. Oh my, determined today, wasn't she?
"It's also difficult to explain." He warned.
"We've got a little time." Monmon said as she settled down on a bench beside the footpath. "They'll ring the bell before the start of things."
No escaping it then. Guiche grimaced as he followed Monmon to take a seat. "Well then, to start, it has to do with a girl." He squeezed his eyes shut as he waited for the inevitable cataclysm to follow. He was very surprised when it didn't arrive. "Monmon?"
"Go on." She insisted gently. He was faintly lost by the utter lack of anger anywhere in her voice and expression. "What?"
"Aren't you . . ."
Montmorency tilted her head. "Mad?" Her hands rose to play with her ringlets as she gave her reply some extra thought. "Hmm, let's just say I don't know yet. For you, a girl being the problem is normal, but the way you're dealing with it isn't . . . So keep talking, I'll start hitting you when it makes sense to me."
"R-right." He shuddered at that thought, Monmon had taken great care in selecting her jewelry tonight, that was quite a lot of rings she was wearing.
Luckily for him, Montmorency didn't decide to strike him at any time as he explained what had happened during his journey, or what had transpired between himself and Midori. Some things were of sensitive nature and he could not mention them to anyone beneath the ranks of his Father and Lord Mortimer, but otherwise, he left nothing out. Monmon remained silent until he was done, and even for a little while after that.
"So . . ." Montmorency let the word hang in the air. "Is she pretty?"
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me." She gave a look of annoyance. "Just answer up honestly."
Was she? He couldn't help but remember that translucent skin, gloss black hair, her fragile features, most of all the utterly focused drive in her eyes. "Y-yes, Miss Midori is truly a beautiful girl!" He stammered quickly and then, caught himself, correcting. "Or rather, I should say that she is a beautiful person." Yes, that was a better way to put it. She was . . . was kind, and forgiving of even someone like him who had walked into a war with hardly an idea of what it really meant to fight and die. "Very, very beautiful."
"Prettier than me?"
Guiche blanched as he looked at Monmon, the water mage at his side was resting her head in one hand, wriggling the fingers of her free hand as she waited for an answer, smiling at her impossible question. "Ah . . . O-of . . . course . . . no-"
"Don't lie." Monmon warned him.
She really was making it difficult for him, he thought. Well then. "Not lying, the Noble sons at the academy would be crawling over themselves to court her." Monmon's eyes widened, and maybe it was only his bluntness that stopped her from punching him. "Not just beautiful, she was very different as well, I think maybe Rub Al Khali, most likely a half breed." Guiche shook his head. "But . . . I don't think you'll believe me . . . " He took a deep breath. "I'm not . . . attracted to her."
The reprisal was as swift as it was painful. Guiche's vision went black, and then blossomed into white and pain. "Gah!" He brought his hands up to his temple. "What was that for?!"
Montmorency hmmphed loudly. "Lying." Was all the reply she offered.
"But I'm not . . . I'm . . ." A hand raised in a menacing, closed fist. Guiche swallowed quickly. "Yes, I though Miss Midori was beautiful, but there was something about her . . . She was spoken for."
"And that suddenly made her unattractive?" Monmon sounded unconvinced.
"Well, no." Guiche admitted, cringing as her fist cocked back again. "I suppose, I found her attractive to start with, but it felt wrong once I got to know a little about her." But that couldn't possibly be believable, could it? He squeezed his eyes shut again, the next punch never came.
Monmorency now looked thoughtful. He couldn't fathom what might be going through her mind at that moment. Guiche's view on women was mechanical at the best of times, knowing which levers to use to produce the intended result. It worked well enough, until times like this where he had no hint of just what was happening.
He was about to test the waters with Montmorency when she spoke up. "What happened to her then."
"I . . . I don't know." Guiche confessed. "The last I saw of her was the night before the Newcastle evacuation. But I've heard no word from her since." Not that he should expect any. To someone like Midori, he was no doubt just a hindrance who had appeared in her life and then promptly left it.
But also, for someone like Midori, an agent of the Crown, and a secretive one at that, her lack of appearance might simply mean she had already been assigned her next mission. Or else . . . Or else she lay dead in the ruins of Newcastle, another anonymous casualty, while he received accolades for being knocked unconscious like a fool and left for dead.
If that were true, if ever fate led him to cross paths with Midori's husband and she had died while he had lived. How could he ever face him? Tell him that he had cowered gratefully while his wife died and that he had been rewarded for it.
"Tonight, I'm going to becongratulated for running inside and telling a traitor that his Griffin was stolen." Guiche pressed his palm against his forehead, laughing pathetically. "It was Miss Midori's quick thinking to give the Prince that Faerie portion, and her courage to do it while the King of Albion held a wand to her head."
And if the other rumors were true, even before that night, she'd used some sort of spell or artifact to conger some form of monster and beat her way through the siege around Newcastle. Saving Prince Wales once again along with Lady Asuna of the Fae. "Between the two of us, she was the hero."
"Yet father is pleased, my brothers are pleased. Why am I not pleased?" It was maddening, maddening, and now Montmorency was laughing! "What?! What is it that everyone else is seeing?" Guiche demanded at the top of his lungs. "What could it possibly be that is so funny?" Couldn't she see what this had been doing to him?
"I'm sorry, I really am sorry." Monmon answered, even as she failed to cease her giggles. "It's just that, it should be so obvious. But I never expected someone as lackadaisical as you to have this problem, Guiche."
"Then please, do explain it to me." Guiche grumbled, quite out of character for himself.
Montmorency laid her hand on his own, smiling all the while. "Guiche. I don't think your trying to live up to your Fathers expectations or your brothers."
"I'm not?" If that were the case, it was news to him. "Wait! Then . . . Mothers?" She had wanted him to turn his talents to sculpting and Alvises like great grandfather had made, he thought seriously.
The smallest crack appeared in Monmon's smile. "Erm no . . . Guiche . . . The expectations your trying to live up to are your own, or rather Miss Midori's."
"What?" He shook his head. "Monmon, that's nonsense, I told you I felt nothing for her! And besides, kindness or not, he'd have had to been a fool to have convinced himself that Midori of all people had ever expected anything of him but to keep his mouth shut. "Ah, Monmon!" He realized too late that her smile had turned sad. "What did I say, my beloved?" Really, what had he said?! "I mean it that I do not love her!"
"I know." Montmorency looked wistful. "Or rather, I know that you don't love her that way. But you do love her. You respect her, admire her. You can't do either of those without loving her in your own way.."
"I . . ." The sound of chimes echoed through the noon lit gardens, the announcement of the beginning of events.
Knowing Monmon, she'd what to return soon now that more people would be arriving. Being invited on behalf of her family to accompany him, the youngest Montmorency daughter would have ambitions of her own tonight. And sure enough, standing up, Monmon straightened her skirts and offered him her hand. "Shall we?"
Still, it puzzled him as they made there way back. Father was quite resolute in his opinion that women were the superior sex when it came to matters of the mind and of the heart, at least due to upbringing. For some reason father was always doubtful if it was suggested to be due to latent maternal instinct, very doubtful. Guiche shook his head, but that wasn't the point, just what did Monmon mean that he respected Midori. As if he did not respect Monmon as well.
A woman's chastity, her dignity, and her honor were always be held in the highest regard. Never were they to be insulted without challenge. Whether that woman be Monmon, Midori, or even his own mother. Of course, Midori's case, she wouldn't him to defend her, between her force of personality and exceptional skill as a swordswoman, he could hardly imagine being needed.
But even if Monmon has some sort of point, and it was often enough that she in fact did, what good did it do him? What possible expectations could Midori have for him?
There wasn't much more time left to think on it as they returned to the Gala proper. In the short time they had been gone, the number of guests had easily doubled. What had started as a few modest groupings scattered across the grounds had now become contiguous, the circles constantly losing and gaining people as the gathered aristocrats traversed the lawn.
This was Guiche's first Gala, his father had gone to several in the past, but he had been far too young to attend at that time. It was about what he had come to expect. Most of the old Nobility were represented, the powerful families, the Vallieres, Aiguilons, Chalets , and the Tremoilles, and the less powerful such as the Montmorencys and Gramonts.
Between them were members of the younger Nobility, men who had risen to ranks of privilege within the last one or two generations. Status for them was conferred by ability so clearly and overwhelmingly displayed that it could not be denied despite lack of great lineage. They would be expected soon enough to marry into the high nobility, bringing fresh blood to Tristain's aristocracy as had been their duty for generations.
Count Woestte, and the Royal Messenger Lord Mott were among these, as well as others of the Nobilis Militant, members of the Dragon Knights and military officers such as Count La Ramee. Technically Guiche's own family would qualify for this last group as well, but old blood, political reliability, still counted for more than simple military service.
Everything was as he would have expected, save for one detail of course, that being the Fae. Easy enough to find, just look for the ones that stood out most. Lady Alicia whose presence far exceeded her diminutive stature, happily chatting up whole crowds. Lord Rute talking conspiratorially with Count Woestte, while Lady Zia of the Puca could be seen on the far side of the lawn, near the where the musicians had been set up, discussing something with the Duke de La Valliere.
Just how did one take the measure of a Faerie in any case? Weren't they sworn into service by the will of their people? Then they weren't proper nobility, not really.
"Ah, Guiche!" The sound of his father's voice turned his head. "I hope the air has done you some good."
The Elder Gramont was beckoning for him, standing with Count La Ramee and General Eugene, the gigantic Salamander General looking the very cut a military man himself in an Officer's uniform much like the one worn by Guiche himself, albeit let out for man of his considerable size.
It had been only proper of course. In the field, practical considerations held sway of course, but as both General Eugene and Lord Mortimer had been admitted as Officers of the Tristanian army, they would be expected to attend official functions as representatives owing fealty to the Crown. This extended to wearing the uniforms of Noble Officers. And so, the Salamanders had born with it, just as Guiche had, to have the blasted uniform fitted properly.
Montmorency's hand surreptitiously made its way into his own, and gave him a reassuring squeez. "Ah, better then when I left." Guiche offered, smiling a little more forcefully than he had before.
"Well then, why don't you join us for a moment." His father waved. "I'm sure you remember Eren from when he visited our home."
"Yes Father." Guiche nodded toward Count La Ramee. He did remember the Count, a less serious man all of those years ago. "But I was only a boy then."
"And a fine young man now." La Ramee observed. "With a lovely young woman on your arm, Miss . . . Montmorency I believe?"
"Montmorency la Fere de Montmorency." Monmon draped her skirts gracefully. "And it is always an honor Admiral. Tell me, mother says that your wife is doing well, and your youngest son?"
La Ramee's brows rose. "Why yes, both are well. We had some concerns this winter but he sprang back. Hearty as his grandfather."
"Then I am relieved on both of your behalves." Monmon smiled, and once again Guiche was reminded just why mother and father approved so highly of her.
And on the matter of family, Guiche looked about. "Ah pardon, but dare I ask where your brother might be, General Eugene?"
He hadn't seen any sign of the Salamander Lord, itself a concerning development. He'd of course heard about the news, that the murderer involved in the killing of Lady Sakuya's aid and two Defense Force Officers had involved a former agent of the Salamander Lord, but how this had been received by the rest of the Nobility was mixed to say the least.
Some had called for the crown to strip him of his title, while his supporters among the military, the Gramonts included, were backing him to the hilt. Between the two extremes, the rest of the nobility seemed to have assumed an observational stance.. Perhaps Monmon would be better able to decipher it.
"He'll be along soon enough." The General rumbled. "A matter brought to him by Captain Ephi of the Arrun City Watch required his personal attention at the last moment. He should be here within the hour."
"I should expect so." The Baron said. "He is to receive the thanks of the Crown tonight. Hopefully it will remind some of these naysayers of the great service he has already done for us." The Elder Gramont smiled openly. "As of course all of us."
"General of the Armies." Count La Ramee agreed. "Quite the promotion from a retired officer."
"I like to think I've been saving up to have one last war in me." The Baron said. "Guiche, I also meant to mention . . ."
"Yes?" Guiche's interest piqued.
"I thought I'd give you advanced warning." His Father smirked. "Your brothers have all arrived as expected. I imagine they're laying in wait for you around here somewhere."
"Oh." Guiche said under his breath, spirits sinking ever so slightly.
His Father nodded sympathetically. "Don't worry so much Lad, you've finally got a war story of your own under the belt. Maybe now you'll have some staying power." Despite his father's years, the cuff to Guiche's shoulder was much more painful than he would have ever expected.
"Well then, I best go find them." He decided, before they found him.
"I don't understand." Monmon whispered in his ear. "I thought you got along well with your brothers."
"That's it, I do!" Guiche agreed. "Reinhardt taught me the proper way to ride a dragon when I was ten, Axel's the reason I know one wit about how to survive and navigate in the wilds, and Erwin showed me everything I know for sedu . . . ueling." Geich corrected himself in mid word.
"Sedueling?" Monom's eyes narrowed."
"I said dueling, dueling!" Guiche corrected swiftly. Of course, he had taught Guiche that as well, but they'd had a lot more fun with the other one. He sighed. "The problem isn't that they're mean spirited, rather its more . . ."
"Do my eyes deceive me?" A thunderous voice caused Guiche to cringe. "Or have I spotted the baby of the family?" That voice could only have come from the cavernous ribcage of his middle brother.
"Axel." Guiche forced himself to smile as he was nearly run over in a bone braking embrace. Montmorency was left stunned as one moment Guiche was there, the next he was ten mails behind her, finally being put back down onto his feet. "Always wonderful to see you brother." Guiche gasped.
"Finally wondered out of the crib?" His Eldest brother, Reinhardt asked, thick blonde eyebrows furrowing as he squinted at Montmorency. "My, I do believe our brother has grown a little more masculine, just look at those arms!" He pointed to Monmon, grunting in pain briefly after as Erwin, the youngest of his Elder brothers slammed his cane down on his Eldest brothers foot.
"You're not that blind you old fool, and that joke wore out its welcome the first time you used it on Axel." Erwin said, stepping around his pained brother and gently cupping Monmon's hand, kissing it tenderly. "A pleasure my Lady, don't mind this old wind bag."
"That's Captain Wind Bag to you." Reinhardt said proudly. "And you best remember it, Lieutenant."
"Lieutenant of the Dragon Knights." Erwin corrected. "That puts me level with an earth worm like you."
Reinhardt barked a laugh. "Perhaps in the depths of hell."
Unlike Guiche himself who had taken after their rather more slender and effeminate father, his elder brother had uniformly taken after their grandfather on their mother's side of the family. All three men were larger than life, which suited their reputations just fine.
Triangle of wind, Captain Reinhardt de Gramont, Commander of Fort de Arlan Garrison. Line of water, Commander Axel de Gramont, Captain of Her Majesty's Ship the frigate Sibris. And lastly, line of fire, Erwin de Gramont of the Dragon Knight Corps' third squadron. The accomplished sons of General Gramont, each living proof that the Gramont lines martial prowess would endure for another generation.
Guiche was proud of his brothers, fiercely proud, and naturally was bound by bonds of filial love to each of them. He just wished he could experience those filial bonds one at a time like the Founder intended. Having all three in the same place could be . . . overwhelming.
"Who might this be? Lovely Monmon is it?" Axel gave a bow to Montmorency.
"Monmon?" Reinhardt frowned. "Ah, Montmorency! I remember sitting you on my lap when I was just a boy and you were barely a knee high babe! You've become a lovely young woman, I can see why father would want to cuff some sense into our brothers head and get him to marry."
"It apparently failed with you, brother." Axel observed with a snort. "But of course we are forgetting our manners brothers, we've barely seen little Monmon since that day, and we can hardly expect her to remember us."
"Of course." Erwin said.
"Of course!" Reinhardt agreed, lightly prodding Guiche in the ribs.
"I'm not going to do it." Guiche narrowed his eyes. He wasn't.
"Do what?" Monmon looked to be between confusion and amusement.
"But of course." Axel said.
"Of course." Erwin said again.
"Of course." Reinhardt prodded Guiche one last time.
The youngest Gramont son sighed. "A horse!" He said in a loud voice, just below a shout, praying that this wouldn't carry too far and wouldn't get back to his friends.
His brothers collapsed against one another in laughter, even Monmon was giggling, thought he doubted she knew the story behind why his brothers found it so funny. In fact, he prayed she didn't and never would.
And naturally, that was the problem with his brothers. All loving men, but forever convinced that he was their little brother, perpetually in diapers and forever with his thumb in his mouth. Though he supposed it only made a certain amount of sense. That had been the arrangement when they had last all lived in the same home, before Reinhardt had been sent to academy, and then Axel after him. Which was likely why Erwin was the most reasonable of his siblings. Most of the time.
Introductions were made, drinks were found, and stories were passed around about what his siblings had been up to since last he'd heard from them. Naturally, their tales were a great deal funnier when given in person where all four brothers could comment and tease at their leisure. Reinhardt had been given the unenviable task of helping to whip the third and seventh companies of the Faerie Self Defense Forces, the Undine Volunteers, into fighting shape, a task that was proving more difficult than he had hoped. Axel only complain about his ship becoming a roost for Sylphs on patrol around Sylvain. And Erwin had nothing but stories from training up the Dragoons of the tenth Faerie Company to fly as part of their formations.
And then it had come time for what Guiche had been hoping to avoid. It was his turn to tell what he'd been up to. Of course they all knew, which meant there was no avoiding it. Which meant it was best to exaggerate and let them sort out the truth from fiction for themselves.
And he had exaggerated or even outright lied with gusto, the Traitor had been a sniveling rat the whole time, the stench of everyone in Gallia allowing them to smell the bandits before they ever saw them, that the food in Albon had been good.
But the one thing he hadn't been able to do, was exaggerate about Midori. Because, because exaggeration would have sounded less rediculous.
A super humanly strong waif of a girl. A peerless swordswoman who could fight a whole team of mages to a standstill without breathing a single chant. Who had fought her way through the siege of Newcastle on foot and who had faced the enraged King of Albion without flinching, saving his son in the process. It sounded so unreal even saying it all again.
His brothers had laughed all the while. He didn't think they'd be laughing if they knew it was the truth.
"So tell me then, this little girl had to keep the nasty Reconquistadors away from our ickle brother?" Axel babied mirthfully.
"It wasn't like that . . ." Guiche ground out. No, it hadn't been like that at all.
"The part I don't understand is how this girl was supposed to be sword fighting a whole army of bandits." Erwin said thoughtfully. "That part seems a little bit much."
"It was a just a small troop." Who she had handled expertly, almost entirely on her own, without harming a soul.
"I do believe the unbelievable part would be that our brother would be in the presence of such a beauty and only try to court her once." Reinhardt said.
"She was married!" They all knew the rule.
"And her husband let her go off to fight?" Erwin asked. All three brothers nodded their heads sagely.
"I must say." Reinhardt stroked his chin. "The story would be more believable it it was something like great grandfather."
The three remaining brothers winced as one, Axel in particular for he had the great misfortune of being named for said great grandfather, or rather more blunt great grandmother. Axelle de Gramont, the only woman to ever carry the family name forward by imitating a man. A ruse marvelously executed by being so tremendously obese that no one had realized the truth until some time after her death, her bastard sons grown and well established as titled officers in their own right.
"It would explain why our young brother abated his attempts." Erwin agreed, chuckling not unkindly. Lifting a fresh champagne glass from a passing servant, he began to lift the fluted glass to his lips only to be stopped by a black gloved hand.
"I'm sorry. But I can vouch that everything you're brother has said is the absolute truth."
When that soft spoken voice reached Guiches dejected ears, he froze. Turning slowly, so slowly to face his brother and the ghost who had appeared as if by magic at his side. He was in fact so shocked that it took him a moment to recognize Princess Henrietta, in full ballroom regalia, standing a few paces back from the scene with a hand raised to hide a smile.
The impression of the girl was one of pure midnight. Slender arms adorned with long black gloves that terminated just short of her gorgeously bare shoulders. Slim neck wreathed in black pearls. Someone had done up her hair, someone immensely skilled by the looks of it, tied up loosely in a style that was just beginning to grow in popularity.
Gown of silky black, overlapped layers of fabric creating an effect that varied between totally opaque and veils of thick smoke near her feet. As a final artistic flourish, a sash tied into a giant butterfly bow had was rapped around her waist, the overall effect proving quite fancifully endearing.
Reinhardt stared. Axel stared. Guiche stared. Erwin stared . . . and managed to let go of his champagne glass. It had barely a split second to fall before the girl had it in her own hand, raising it to her lips. She smiled mysteriously, an expression that extended all the way to her dark, gold flecked eyes.
"M-Miss . . . Midori." Guiche felt like the world was dropping away around him.
The apparition nodded. "How have you been, Guiche?"
Monmon squeezed very tightly at Guiche's arm. "You didn't tell me she was that pretty!" She hissed under her breath.
Poor Guiche. He's in a bromance and he doesn't even know it.
Poor Kirito, his platonic harem field has just been inverted .