Chapter 83: Lady Meera
"Monika!" Esther called out, her hurried footsteps echoing as she rushed through the winding stone hallways.
She had been searching the estate for Monika, but as she finally reached the grand living hall, she skidded to a halt. The household staff was gathered in the front. Attendants and footmen stood in perfect, rigid lines, their backs straight and their gazes fixed intently on the double doors of the main entrance. The atmosphere seemed quite tense.
"Lady Esther."
Monika’s calm voice sounded from just behind her. Esther jumped slightly, turning to look up at the maid.
"Monika? What is happening?" Esther asked, her eyes darting between the perfectly aligned servants.
"We are expecting an important guest this evening, and the Count has ordered the household to be fully prepared to welcome them," Monika replied.
"A guest? Who could that be?" Esther stood on her tiptoes, trying to get a glimpse out of the tall windows, but the fading evening light made it difficult to see into the courtyard.
"We do not know yet, my Lady," Monika said, equally curious, actually.
"What is all this commotion, Esther?" Hermione asked as she and Airam approached from the corridor, both looking curious at the grand assembly.
"An important guest is arriving, big sister," Esther explained in a hushed whisper.
Airam crossed her arms, raising a skeptical brow. "A guest? Since when does Ulrich have friends?"
Hermione quickly slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.
"That is mean, Elder Sister," Esther pouted.
"It is probably just one of his tenant lords," Hermione said, recovering her composure. "I saw a few of them riding in last month to speak directly with Ulrich."
"Did he ever organize this kind of welcome for them?" Airam pointed out, her eyes scanning the room. She knew perfectly well how Ulrich worked; he treated his vassal lords like mere servants, often leaving them to wait in the drafty halls for hours. To assemble the entire staff like this meant whoever was walking through those doors held a very different kind of value to him.
Speak of the devil. Calm footsteps sounded on the grand wooden staircase. Ulrich descended in silence. He walked past the line of servants without a glance and came to a stop at the top of the entrance steps, waiting with his hands clasped behind his back.
The sun had nearly set, casting long, dark shadows across the grounds, but as the doors were pulled open by the guards, two figures stepped into the warm glow of the entrance torchlight. A woman, escorted by a towering man, crossed the threshold.
As she stepped fully into the light, her features finally came into view, leaving the gathered servants breathless.
She possessed the flawless grace, draped in a magnificent gown of white and pale blue silk. Elegant gloves climbed past her wrists, and a stylish, wide-brimmed hat sat elegantly atop her head. From beneath the brim, long waves of sea-blue hair cascaded down her back and settled perfectly around her narrow waist. When she lifted her chin, she revealed a stunningly beautiful face, highlighted by piercing aqua-blue eyes and a distinctly sly smile.
A collective, quiet gasp rippled through the staff. They had never seen this woman before, but she radiated an aura that clearly won them over.
Stopping at the base of the entrance, Meera looked up at Ulrich, who stood imposing on the landing above. Her sly smile widened into something almost dangerous before she stopped it. "Lord Rubenhart," she pinched the hem of her gown and lowered her head slightly. "You are looking as wonderful as ever."
Ulrich stared down at her in silence. He had asked her to come dressed appropriately for his estate, and she had certainly delivered, perhaps even exceeding his expectations. Gone were the rugged pirate leathers, the wind-tangled hair, and the salt-chapped skin. Properly bathed, her skin nourished and glowing, and dressed in the finery of a true highborn lady, she looked completely different. The transformation only amplified her natural charm.
Despite his cold demeanor, Ulrich felt a faint flicker of satisfaction. He appreciated that she had obeyed his demand.
"My Lady," Ulrich greeted her. He descended the final two steps and extended a hand toward her.
Meera accepted it with a graceful nod, her fingers resting lightly on his as she climbed the stairs to join him.
Behind her stood Edmar, her loyal second-in-command. Usually, the giant of a man looked like a wild bear stuffed into tight, ill-fitting clothes. Today, however, he had traded his rough sea-gear for a sharply tailored dark tunic and trousers. He looked every bit the part of an elite, veteran knight. As he stepped further into the hall, the servants shrank back, openly gasping at the width of his shoulders and his intimidating, towering frame.
As Meera stepped fully into the grand hall, Ulrich paused, his crimson eyes shifting toward the three sisters lingering near the corridor. They wore different expressions, ranging from polite anxiety to outright hostility.
"Oh my, these must be the famous sisters, Lord Rubenhart," Meera said, as she reached up with gloved hands and gracefully removed her wide-brimmed hat, offering the girls a beautiful smile.
Esther stepped forward first, dipping into a respectful curtsy. "Um... I am Esther Van Rubenhart. It is a pleasure to meet you, my Lady."
"Airam," Airam followed swiftly. Unlike Esther, Airam’s dark eyes narrowed, scanning the newcomer with intense suspicion.
Hermione hung back, her brow furrowed. She stared at the woman in the blue gown, an unshakable feeling of familiarity gnawing at her mind. She felt certain she had seen this woman before. Yet the memory was obscured by the darkness of that previous encounter, and this noblewoman looked far too refined to match the rough figure Hermione was trying to recall.
Oblivious to the intense scrutiny, Meera simply smiled wider. "You have such beautiful daughters, Count Rubenhart," she said, looking back at Ulrich.
"W—We aren’t Lord Ulrich’s daughters," Esther blurted out, her usual timidity vanishing in her haste to correct the misconception.
Ulrich’s brow creased ever so slightly at the outburst, a subtle shift in his cold demeanor that instantly made Esther shrink back with an apologetic wince.
"We have been adopted as his wards," Hermione quickly stepped in, shielding her younger sister. She despised being lumped in as Ulrich’s offspring. It was strange, uncomfortable, and logically absurd, considering he was a mere eight years older than her.
"I see. My apologies, Lady...?" Meera tilted her head, feigning innocence perfectly.
"Hermione," she replied, crossing her arms as she continued to mentally dig through her memories.
Unfazed by the cold reception, Meera turned back to her host with a soft giggle. "You truly have wonderful daughters, Lord Rubenhart."
Hermione felt a vein throb near her temple, irritation flaring at the woman’s tone, but she bit her tongue. Ulrich offered a deadpan stare to his guest. He knew perfectly well that Meera was thoroughly enjoying her little performance, pushing boundaries just to amuse herself. Choosing not to engage, he turned on his heel and began walking off, leaving Meera to fall into step beside him.
As the pair moved away, Monika let out a quiet, wistful sigh. "She is so beautiful..."
Hearing Monika’s murmur, Esther looked at Meera’s retreating form, the elegant sway of her dress, her confident posture, and tightly clenched the fabric of her own skirt.
"Do you know her?" Airam asked quietly, leaning closer to Hermione.
"I feel like I have seen her before, but I can’t place it," Hermione muttered, her eyes locked on the woman’s sea-blue hair. "But I will find out soon enough." She took a determined step forward to shadow them, and both Airam and Esther quickly fell in line behind her.
Up ahead, Meera gazed up at the vaulted ceilings and the intricate carvings lining the walls. "You have a truly wonderful estate, my Lord. The architecture feels deeply rooted in Skargardia’s foundation, doesn’t it?"
"It is," Ulrich replied, his tone softening slightly. "The Rubenhart family lineage traces directly back to the very foundation of Skargardia. We are one of the original founding Houses."
Trailing a few paces behind, Hermione rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. The moment anyone brought up his family name or estate, the normally cold Ulrich transformed. His immense pride took the reins, making him too eager to boast about his bloodline.
Meera noticed the subtle puffing of his chest as well. She already knew how proud he was of his heritage, and she found this rare display of vanity really cute. A sly grin curled on her lips before she softened it into a charming smile. "I would gladly listen to your voice recount days of your family history, Lord Rubenhart," she said, her tone leaning toward a seductive lilt.
"This woman is like Linnea," Airam whispered from behind them.
"She clearly loves him; that much is obvious," Hermione nodded with a small scoff.
"Is she perhaps... the new Countess?" Esther asked, her voice trembling with sudden worry.
"What? No way!" Hermione gasped in horror, realizing the implications. It only took one look at Meera’s cunning eyes and sly smiles for Hermione to know they would never get along. The woman was dangerously sharp, and a single gaze from her was enough to establish dominance.
"Perhaps we should just kill her," Airam suggested, her dark eyes narrowing as she casually assessed the angles of attack.
"Don’t say such scary things with a straight face, Elder Sister!" Esther squeaked in panic.
"Shut up, both of you. Listen, we just need to follow them," Hermione ordered in a harsh whisper. "We might just be misunderstanding the situation entirely."
Esther nodded nervously, pressing a hand to her chest in a futile attempt to calm her racing heart. Beside her, Airam gave a small nod, silently choosing to observe this new threat before thinking of drawing her blades.
