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Almyran summers were dry and intense, the air thin but scorching. It was brick baking season, when the fresh red clay would dry firm and smooth. A time for street fairs and bazaars shaded with the colorful drapery of dyed textiles between rooftops. It was nothing like the Fodlan summer, which were marked by excessive rain and thick muggy air. While it wasn’t nearly as hot, it was wet. Not wet enough to compare to the monsoon seasons he’d grown up with, but damp enough to make Khalid feel uncomfortable.
Or maybe that was just the too-tight clothes of this land. The appearances his grandfather had demanded he keep up were ridiculous, but there was no diplomacy to be found if he wasn’t willing to make some concessions.
So Khalid smiled in his easy, practice way, as he gave a modest bow and shook hands with the Margrave.
“A pleasure, my lord, to see your territory. I’ve heard much about the beauty of Edmund, and I can say that none of the stories do it any justice,” he offered.
Margrave Edmund was an austere man. Known throughout the Alliance as a shrewd politician and a difficult man to trust. He rarely voiced an opinion on any debates, and yet he always ended up on the winning side.
Khalid could see something hard and cold in his eyes.
“Mm. Yes, well, it is an honor, as always, to host a member of the von Reigan house,” the Margrave responded, looking Khalid over, making a silent assessment in his mind. “Your name was?”
“Claude,” Khalid said, the name still felt strange on his tongue. All his life he’d been Khalid, but a name like that wouldn’t go over well in Fodlan. He’d changed it, to make himself easier for the Leicester nobility to digest. A choice he didn’t regret, but… still took time to adjust to. “Claude von Reigan, a pleasure to meet you.”
The Margrave nodded slowly. Just like every other noble who Khalid had gone to see, Margrave Edmund suspected him. Who wouldn’t? He was the brown-skinned mystery heir who had manifested seemingly from nowhere, but Duke Oswald had made no attempt at explanation. He had merely announced to the lords of the Alliance that, in the wake of his son’s untimely death, his grandson was his new heir and that the boy would be making personal visits to each high standing house before he began his stay at Garreg Mach Academy.
Each and every noble of this stiff, judgmental country had given him those same sidelong glances. It made Khalid miss Almyra. A part of him wanted to go home and tell his mother about how outrageous things were here. They’d laugh, she’d tell him stories about her younger days in Leicester and then they’d laugh even harder.
But another part of him welcomed the challenge.
“I hear you are to attend the Officer’s Academy,” the Magrave mentioned. “What a pleasant coincidence. My daughter will also be enrolling.”
Khalid tilted his head slightly. “Your daughter? My apologies, sir, I didn’t realize you had any children.”
“My daughter is overly modest,” the Margrave said. “She is a studious sort and doesn’t often come to meet guests. But you will meet her at the Academy, I’m sure. For now, let me offer you a tour of our estate.”
Khalid followed as he was led, but his green eyes flickered to doorways and halls as he did. He knew what phrases like “overly modest” meant. It meant that Margrave Edmund was hiding his daughter for whatever reason. Maybe she was a notorious beauty or hideously ugly.
Maybe there was some secret only she knew and he dared not let her say it aloud.
Khalid speculated for the entirety of the Margrave’s tour. He had even begun to toss around the tiny chance that there was no daughter at all, that the Margrave was making things up to fool him and make Khalid say the wrong thing at the wrong time and look like some kind of idiot.
But then he saw it. A brief flash of blue from the second story landing. Khalid was on the first floor, ambling through the foyer, but he stopped when he saw her. The Margrave kept walking, not noticing that the young lord had stopped.
There was a young woman, probably the same age he was, peeking out from an upstairs doorway. Her hair was set in messy braids, her skin sallow and pale. He could even see the hard grey bags under her eyes. She looked like a terrified rabbit.
Khalid smirked. “...Hello there,” he called softly.
She ducked back behind the door, out of sight with a tiny gasp.
Khalid nodded his head. A recluse, then. “I’m Claude,” he told her. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Edmund. I look forward to getting to know you better at school.”
He waited, giving her patient room to reply if she wished, but there was nothing. The young woman stayed silent.
“Good day, Miss Edmund,” he offered, before moving to catch up with her father.
Khalid was starting to look forward to getting to know Fodlan’s secrets.