The Countess Palatine, Part I

Of the various noble mansions in Asturia, the de Marcha mansion was special. While other houses sought to flaunt their wealth with extravagant fountains and expensive art, the de Marchas filled their garden with foreign herbs and flowers. An impressive three-storey building stood guard over the small but well-curated garden, built with marble and topped by an imposing spire, which was even taller than the walls of the Noble’s Quarter.

But even though its complexity was befitting of the owner’s station, its style and scale were not. Bereft of delicate decorations, the mansion could only be described as utilitarian in design; and while the de Marchas were one of the leading noble families of the Kingdom, their mansion was barely larger than a typical viscount’s, which, combined with its height, was rather unbalanced. Rather than a noble’s abode, the de Marcha mansion looked more like a…

“Is that a watch tower?” The blue-eyed lady asked in an innocent voice, her characteristic silver hair hidden under her brown raincoat.

How many times did the Guildmaster ask himself the same question? He could not count, but he did recall the olden days he spent in the herb-filled garden, in the company of the mansion’s current master.

Not yet the Countess Palatine in her own right, the Marguerite in his memory was a noblewoman of strong spirits and healthy humours. With her short, curling chestnut hair accompanying her emerald eyes, she often shared company with George as they prepared for their adventures. Never one to conceal her emotions, and disinclined to guile and deceit, the straightforward healer was a core member of his party, providing much-needed healing in magic and mind alike to the cautious George and the worrywart Celestia. Whether it was in a noble’s mansion or in a common pub, in the middle of a dungeon, or in this garden of most exotic flowers, her straightforward and friendly personality always brought George and Celestia the peace of mind they often needed…

The more the George reminisced, the more he longed for those simpler, more innocent days. But the days where he, a commoner, was a comrade-in-arms with Marguerite and Celestia had long gone. Celestia was dead; Marguerite was now a high-ranking minister of the Kingdom, whose policies and views had turn increasingly, and obnoxiously elitist. It was a miracle that she agreed to meet him; but will she listen to the pleas of her long-estranged former comrade to help someone who took over her best friend’s body?

Will her show him again that bright and pure smile? She’d always give him a warm welcome whenever he came to her family’s estate. Yes, a warm welcome…

…George Hammersmith remembered something as he felt a shiver down his spine. Instinctively, he leaped backwards from the fountain, and the next moment a massive projectile struck where he once stood, bringing up a spray of mud and mist. Worried, he looked at his companion: the silver-haired lady seemed surprised as the impact blew off her raincoat’s hood, but she was otherwise unharmed. With her hands busy wiping off the mud, she seemed uninterested in drawing the green sabre by her waist.

As the mist dissipated, the nature of the projectile became apparent. It was a metal mace of a peculiar shine, with a spherical crystal head topping the simplistic shaft. On the head’s flanges, vein-shaped patterns emitted a subtle green glow, the same colour as the crystal’s not-so-subtle light. The mace then suddenly withdrew itself from the ground; it pulled itself into the air, and flew in an arc back to its master.

In her elegant and silky dress, the mace’s master waved to the duo. Her curling chestnut hair now waist-length, Marguerite de Marcha was once again before George’s eyes, her emerald eyes still betraying her strong spirit as it did years ago. Wiping raindrops off his face, George was painfully reminded what his rose-tinted nostalgia tried to hide: that Marguerite de Marcha’s “warm welcomes” always contained a friendly bout of unexpected sparring.

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As the manor’s master emerged from the mist, the silver-haired maiden weighed her options. Aware that her appearance has been shown, the reincarnator in a princess’ body contemplated fleeing the scene; yet curiosity and a mysterious sense of calmness prevented it. Nor was violence an option; if the negotiation failed, the murder of a prominent minister will only bring her more attention and hence trouble; nevermind that she did not feel an ounce of hostility from the Countess, as she understood the mace was not aimed at her, nor thrown to kill. So, in the absence of adequate information, the young lady decided to wait and see.

It was then she was able to examine the Countess Palatine closely. Contrary to Celestia’s memories, the woman in front of her looked like the paragon of a Renaissance noblewoman. Finely dressed and followed by several servants, she possessed a grace and finesse that Celestia might not had seen. But with the outsized mace in her hand, the Countess carefully sidestepped the muddy puddles as she approached, and gazed intensely at the silver-haired lady. The silver-haired lady, instinctively, glanced at the Guildmaster. The Guildmaster did not notice the awkward situation, and several seconds passed before the silver-haired lady heard the Countess’ voice.

“Cute… Where did old man George find such a young cutie for himself?” The Countess’ gaze turned passionate, perhaps overly so, reminding the silver-haired maiden the gaze of a crazy cat lady. “Is it abduction? You must have been scared. Don’t worry, my little lady, you are safe now. I’ll never let this dirty old man lay a hand on you… hehe…”

The way the Countess conducted herself awakened memories that Celestia, and the silver-haired lady, did not want to remember.

“…Five years passed, and it didn’t make you any less of an airhead. I am impressed. I am here to introduce her to you. She is in some troubles, and she need your help.” The Guildmaster replied calmly.

“Aren’t you just here to introduce your fiancée? You just said there’s ‘someone important to me’ that you want to introduce to me. And you brought this cute little lady that you abducted.”

“…Doesn’t she look a bit similar to someone we knew?”

“?” The Countess tilted her head, unable to comprehend the Guildmaster’s words. “All I see is a troubled and delicate young lady… somehow having a hint of danger under her innocent face. So cute…”

“…What is her hair colour?”

“Silver, of course.”

“Her eye colour? Doesn’t it remind you of Estella?”

“Come on, her eyes are indeed crystal blue, but she isn’t that similar to that perfect princess.” The Countess insisted, then took a closer look. “Wait…”

“…Well, this is technically Estella --- Celestia’s body.” The silver-haired lady decided to break her silence, bowing her head while she introduced herself. “Yuri Yuzuki --- or that was what I used to be called --- pleased to make your acquaintance, your ladyship.”

She glanced at the Countess, who was staring at her face from an uncomfortably close distance. As the silver-haired maiden spoke, the Countess’ face turned gradually from confusion to surprise, then to embarrassment. Her hodgepodge of emotions barely contained by her noble’s pride, the Countess regained her composure and invited the two into the mansion.