After my knighthood was confird, daily life beca unrecognizably busy.
I was busy with the move because Rosengarden’s ownership transfer was complete, busy having the banquet clothes—reduced to rags from fighting Klugen—refitted, and busy with Hilda, who ca every day to teach the procedures that knighthood entailed.
"Father wants to et Wolf. How’s your schedule today?"
"...The War Minister? So I’m finally eting him."
War Minister Paust von Steiner. Unlike other bureaucrats, he was a born military man and the highest authority in the ard forces. He held command over the duchy army, the Grand Duke’s personal forces, and the princely coalition army. So unless you were a man of considerable ttle, you couldn’t hold the War Minister’s seat.
"Hehe, why so tense? How unlike the brave Gale Knight."
After I’d been dubbed the Gale Knight, my heroic ballad spread among the people and beca a sensation. Street musicians sang it daily to draw custors, and whenever I passed by and happened to overhear it, I wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. My retainers, on the other hand, were imnsely proud.
The master’s honor was the retainer’s honor. So my retainers’ pride had swelled trendously. As long as they didn’t throw their weight around trading on the family’s prestige, it was fine—but soone always caused problems. So Göring, who was helping with the move, gave my retainers so fitting advice.
"Where does your pride co from? The family you serve. A proper retainer should be humble, not puffed up over the master’s reputation, so as not to cause trouble."
Göring had served one master for decades as a veteran among retainers, so my people didn’t take his advice lightly. That said, I’d allowed Bodo to trade on my na to so extent for the sake of information gathering. According to Bodo, my reputation had caused the number of cooperators to increase dramatically.
As expected, reputation ca first for a noble. I felt considerable unease over the wildly exaggerated heroic ballad, but it had already spread, so I had no choice but to own it. Fortunately, my face wasn’t widely known, so I wasn’t being mobbed like the crown prince—though ladies were another matter.
"Hmm, so you’re Sir Streit, who captured Hilda’s heart?"
In that sense, eting the War Minister was daunting in many ways. Perhaps because his was a born military family, from the War Minister down to his eldest and second sons, their builds were enormously imposing—bigger than Hans, the largest among my retainers. Fortunately, Hilda didn’t take after her father and brothers.
Both older sisters had married and weren’t present at this gathering. From the War Minister’s unfavorable gaze toward , I could read two anings: "Just a hereditary knight who gained a bit of fa dares to beco my son-in-law?" and "So you’re the bastard who chard my darling youngest daughter?"
"Father, don’t glare like that. What do you think of the groom I’ve brought?"
"My little Hilda bringing ho a man... ti really flies."
"Dad, I’m seventeen now—marriageable age. How long are you going to treat like a child?"
When Hilda flashed a cute pout, the stern-looking War Minister softened into a gentle smile, the father-daughter warmth palpable. The contrast with how he treated was stark—I could feel genuine warmth and affection in the expression he showed Hilda. What was with this difference in temperature? As expected, no father ever thought any man was good enough for his daughter.
"The title Gale Knight—I hear it everywhere. Father, though his status falls far short for our family’s son-in-law, I personally think it’s wise to forge a bond with a promising knight bearing a title who’ll beco His Highness the crown prince’s close associate. If he’s a man Hilda likes, can’t they be happy together?"
"That title Gale Knight was fabricated... mmm."
Aha—co to think of it, the War Minister had been one of the conspirators behind my title. Bertheim, the Grand Duke, and the War Minister had held a secret three-way eting to bury the affair involving Baron Constance, deflecting public attention by making a hero. Since that eting had been secret, the War Minister caught himself mid-sentence.
"Fabricated what?"
"Nothing. Ahem!"
Unlike the War Minister, eldest son Michael von Steiner unexpectedly took my side. The second son had no say whatsoever, from start to finish just glaring at with a stony expression. The War Minister’s brow furrowed slightly at Michael’s words. If those bulging arms of his got in a headlock, I’d be done for.
"I know there’s no suitable match for Hilda. Tying a promising knight to us through marriage and pulling the crown prince’s close associate to our side benefits the family. The problem is my feelings. My feelings! You bastard! Having the nerve to lure my darling Hilda away! Why did it have to be the Gale Knight!"
"Oh, Father! Margareta and Flora would be terribly hurt if they heard that."
A textbook doting father? This type existed in dieval tis too.
And he was a great noble whose family had held the War Minister’s seat for generations. And I’d never once lured Hilda. If anything, Hilda had taken an interest in and actively pursued . Though I felt the accusation was unjust, in this situation, talking back would only make things worse. I just had to sit quietly and weather the War Minister’s complaints.
"Sir Streit, Father is like this because he’s doted on Hilda especially since she was small, so please don’t take it too much to heart. I personally support the marriage between you and Hilda. But rember—if I ever see tears in Hilda’s eyes, I can change just like Father."
Was Michael also besotted with his little sister? Well, Michael was twenty-five. The age gap existed because Hilda was the second wife’s child.
Hilda and the married sisters were full sisters, while Michael and the second son were half-siblings from the first wife. The first wife had borne three daughters and no sons. What the second wife’s position had been like was obvious without asking. But seeing how the War Minister especially doted on Hilda, it seed she was treated well.
"Because Father’s always like this, even the suitors we had have disappeared. I’m marrying Wolf. Wolf was the only man who understood and respected ," Hilda declared.
"...Wolf? Already on a nickna basis. You like that bastard that much."
"Father, please let Hilda go. She can’t remain a child forever. If you won’t accept the match she found herself after saying you wouldn’t arrange a political marriage for her, will you condemn her to living as a spinster forever?" Michael said.
If the War Minister had used Hilda as a political marriage tool, he would have married her off to nobles much younger or much older—not peers—for the family’s benefit. At least the War Minister was devoted to his family, so Hilda hadn’t been sacrificed to a political marriage. Above all, blessed with five children, there had been no need to marry Hilda off for political gain.
The War Minister reluctantly relented under Michael and Hilda’s persuasion. Though it was true I’d saved the crown prince, he knew my reputation had been manufactured, and the man Hilda had chosen happened to be the very sa person, so from the War Minister’s perspective, his feelings were understandably complicated.
"Father-in-law, I’ll make Hilda happy," I said.
"You’d better. Otherwise, I’ll have your hide," the War Minister growled.
"Father! If you keep this up, I won’t let you see your future grandchildren," Hilda threatened playfully.
"Ahem... son-in-law. Please make our Hilda happy."
The War Minister caved instantly at Hilda’s threat to withhold grandchildren. Was this the true face of the family—so utterly different from the solemnity of official duties? A far cry from the Finance Minister’s family, the Reinfeldts; that household had been anything but harmonious, with the father and eldest son constantly at odds.
With the War Minister accepting as his son-in-law, various procedures had to be coordinated. The most sensitive issue was naturally the contract terms. The union of families was formalized through a contract: the bride’s father was to provide a dowry, while I would prepare a morning gift for the bride, as tradition demanded.
The dowry and morning gift served as safeguards so that widows could live comfortably without husbands who might die young in an era of frequent wars. I had no intention of dying young, but neither did I want Hilda to beco a widow struggling in poverty for the rest of her life. That said, the dowry arrangent was truly remarkable—if Hilda had been a woman with inheritance rights to territory, even that inherited land would have passed to .
The dieval era’s greatest heiress was Eleanor of Aquitaine. She’d married French King Louis VII, but after their divorce, beca engaged to Henry Plantagenet, then Count of Anjou and Duke of Normandy. When he beca England’s King Henry II, that vast territory passed entirely to England without a single battle being fought. Such was the power of the dowry.
The War Minister’s family was a court count family with no fiefdom to inherit, but given the dignity expected of a high-status house, they would prepare considerable gifts. I also had to prepare a corresponding morning gift to uphold our family’s dignity before the bride—this was the crux of the contract negotiations.
"So we’ll provide gifts worth five hundred coins as a dowry on our side, and you arrange a morning gift worth two hundred coins to settle things? Not too much of a strain?"
"I’m welcoming the War Minister’s daughter as my legitimate wife, so our family will show the utmost sincerity. It’s a significant expense, but I want you to know I have the ans."
"Hmm, it seems you and your family have more depth than I expected."
And upon hearing that I’d beco Rosengarden’s new owner, the War Minister made a curious expression. Rosengarden was a house with a complicated history involving several families. I’d received it legally as a condition for fulfilling the Marquis’s request, but honestly, it was far more than the task had warranted.
So I suspected Bertheim had given it as a gift. I didn’t know what he might ask of in return, but unless it was sothing unreasonable, I planned to oblige him. The War Minister seed satisfied to learn he wasn’t marrying his daughter off to a pauper.
I’d prepared the morning gift for Hilda without difficulty as well.
Worth two hundred silver coins, but not sothing I regretted in the least.
Hilda said she’d return the morning gift to , since running the Streit family required a great deal of money. Better to put it to use than leave it tied up as her personal assets—so instead, we drew up a contract stipulating that if I died, Hilda would inherit all property.
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