The Voiceless Duchess - Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Translator: Yonnee
—
A few weeks later, in the late autumn weather of Nordvant, it was a rare warm day.
Lohengrin ordered for the windows to be opened wide and for her chambers to be cleaned up. Meanwhile, she spent time with Herta and Adelaide in the greenhouse.
Adelaide, the one and only daughter of Marquis Dorn amongst many sons, and the wife of Lohengrin’s older brother, Werner. She had been diligently learning about the management of the household’s internal affairs from Lohengrin since her marriage last spring.
After some time had passed, Adelaide let out a small exclamation as she noticed that the paper with Lohengrin’s writing caught fire.
It appeared that the spirit that Lohengrin attached to Dietrich had returned.
Lohengrin, who had noticed this, exchanged awkward glances with Herta and Adelaide in turn. Adelaide was also aware of Lohengrin’s abilities.
However, she felt hesitant to let them see the contents of the spirit’s message since she didn’t know what it might contain, especially with the risk of the information leaking to Werner.
The two women, realizing that Lohengrin wanted some privacy, exchanged glances and took the hint. Adelaide spoke with a smile, breaking the silence.
“Now that I think about it, we’ve been sitting for quite a while. My body feels a bit stiff. How about you, Lady Lohengrin?”
“I was actually thinking of taking a stroll in the garden since the weather is nice. Lady Lohengrin, may we leave you alone for a while?”
‘Thank you. It won’t take me long.’
Lohengrin rose from her seat and bid farewell to the two women, who in turn wished her well. Soon, Adelaide and Herta exited the greenhouse, linking arms and heading outside.
Meanwhile, the little fireball had grown in size and assumed the form of a sparrowhawk. The spirit, its head lowered, spat out embers from its beak and eventually regurgitated something.
A small, round object struck the table, producing a metallic ringing sound.
It was a golden button.
Lohengrin squinted her eyes and picked up the button. On the front side, an intricate snake design, coiled in the shape of an eight, was engraved. The snake’s delicate scales were meticulously detailed, and its two eyes sparkled with red gems. It bore House Gideon’s coat of arms.
Lohengrin absentmindedly turned the button over. On the reverse side, a name was embossed.
‘Vincent?’
Lohengrin furrowed her brow and examined the button closely, front and back.
Without a doubt, it was House Gideon’s. Such exquisitely crafted items could not be made just anywhere, and they were quite expensive. Moreover, as a kind of proof of identity, their production and control were rigorous.
‘Was there someone named Vincent in House Gideon?’
She tried to recall all of the members of House Gideon—Jürgen, Dietrich, Alriche, Dirk, Walter, and more… but she could not recall someone named ‘Vincent’ did not fit.
At that moment, the silent firebird placed a piece of paper in front of Lohengrin. When Lohengrin turned her gaze to it, fiery characters slowly appeared.
Renée Arendt von Bendelmann’s son, 5 years old.
Renée Arendt was a name Lohengrin had heard before.
Dietrich’s mother, the Duchess of Rutherwald, enjoyed sponsoring various artists. And recently, her most cherished artist was none other than Renée.
Lohengrin had met her once, during a visit to Gideon manor last summer. She had been invited by the duchess back then.
At that time, Dietrich had personally introduced Renée to Lohengrin. He mentioned that the Duchess adored the artist and, as luck would have it, she was there to show some of her paintings…
As Lohengrin searched her memories, she furrowed her brow. Why would that woman’s son have a button bearing House Gideon’s coat of arms?
Then, as if waiting, words began to appear on the paper once more.
Chestnut-colored hair, green eyes.
Residence in Donau Road, 6th District of Bern.
Lohengrin’s face stiffened in an instant. Both Duke Rutherwald and Dietrich had chestnut-colored hair and green eyes.
‘It can’t be.’
Lohengrin unconsciously clenched the button. The mana in the air began to distort restlessly.
She tried to remember what Dietrich’s expression had been when he introduced Renée Arendt. She couldn’t recall it clearly.
Renée’s paintings were overly bright and highly saturated, a style that didn’t appeal to Lohengrin. Consequently, she paid little attention to Dietrich’s praise of the artist.
At least, she could recall the woman’s face. It had been quite an unpleasant first impression.
Initially, she had thought the woman exactly resembled her art. Bright, honey-colored hair and innocent, sparkling pink eyes.
At that time, the woman had stared rudely at Lohengrin for quite a while, even without offering a greeting.
It wasn’t uncommon. People who saw Lohengrin for the first time often stared blankly before regaining their senses.
However, her gaze was strangely different. It gave off an unpleasant feeling that was hard to put into words.
As Lohengrin furrowed her brow in irritation, Renée had finally greeted her with an awkward smile.
Afterward, as Lohengrin followed Dietrich to the drawing room, a persistent gaze clung to her back, reviving that unsettling feeling.
‘Something about that interaction didn’t sit well with me, but… perhaps…’
She was able to tell that something was amiss.
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