Chapter Text
The woods bustle with the activity of several dozens of hunters.
Reinhard is but one among many, and everyone excluded him and Meili is native to this domain— so he should try to make his presence as unobtrusive as possible. Furthermore, as he isn’t alone and his companion is indirectly responsible for quite a few deaths in Arlam, it’d make things go smoother if they don’t linger on him too much around them and avoid provoking a reaction. The grudge they hold against her could develop into sabotage, if anyone realizes her identity.
“Mister, do I reeally have to?” Meili tilts her head back to look at him and pouts.
Reinhard hums. If he were to hunt down every beast in the area alone, things would be over much faster and her presence wouldn’t be as necessary. However, his superiors require a reason beyond her age to allow her escape the usual punishment for multiple accounts of murder and use of forbidden curse magic— let alone let her live free with such a dangerous ability. Reinhard cannot recall anyone, in records or in rumors, known to control the mabeasts.
Demonstrating her usefulness would go a long way to make her living on the Astrea Estate possible.
Schwartz, Reinhard thinks, would be pleased if that happened. She is quite fond of children.
Meili reaches out and clasps the hem of his cape— and Reinhard blinks, disconcerted. Aside from Schwartz, there’s no one who would dare to touch him with such familiarity— they’re all too frightened to. Perhaps this is a Gustekan trait— Meili is from there as well, or so she mentioned offhand. It is a hard, cold place from rumors, so that such a life could install a certain boldness would make sense. “But couldn’t I bring just one back with me?”
With so few people living on the estate and Reinhard himself bound to Lady Felt’s service, the possibility isn’t as dangerous as it would be for someone else. Nonetheless—
“Miss Carol would be cross.”
She giggles. “Mister is funny.”
Reinhard smiles. He doesn’t understand it, but laughter is often a sign of ease— and Meili’s seems sincere, with the way her eyes crinkle at the corners and how hard it is for her to restrain her expression. This should make the proceedings much more efficient. Satisfactory teamwork cannot happen without agreeableness. “Thank you. You should guide me to the most powerful mabeasts, however. It’s best if we do not linger near the hunters.”
“My Big Sister also says to not stay near people too long—” Her expression turns sharp and somber. She nods, and kicks a rock to watch it bounce ahead until it disappears in the grass, then tilts her head to look him in the eye. "—But I thought Miss would come with us too. "
Reinhard shakes his head. It can be good advice on duty, as presence of the knights during high-risk combat situations could put citizens in danger, but it is not the sort of behavior he would expect a civilian to keep— the assumption often goes the other way around. “Schwartz—
Of course, the reason Meili said that would have more to do with detection rather than keeping people safe. Even her question about Schwartz could very well be a way to prod for weaknesses. He should take that into account, to pick the right position and work schedule within the estate. “It is not appropriate for her to be here.”
“Mister reeally worries about Miss S. a lot.” Meili nods toward the thicker portion of the underbrush, and grabs his hands. Reinhard lets himself be pulled.
Her behavior startles him in its familiarity, though Reinhard cannot put his finger on where he saw something akin to it. It is lined with manipulation— even with his poor understanding of social norms, he’s seen enough of such means to recognize them for what they are, but that isn’t quite it. Meili— seems to look for his approval and guidance in the same breath she tries to direct his actions.
It’s odd. He doesn’t know what to make of it.
The branches in the canopy above them become thicker, and the light dims. That isn't an issue, of course. Though— Reinhard glances at her, but no, she doesn’t appear to find it any harder to follow the path in the darkness, than to walk into an open, bright clearing. It fits well enough with the information about her skills gifted by his Blessing of Judgement, he supposes.
Meili pokes at his hand. “—What’s the strongest mabeast Mister killed?”
Reinhard glances down. For an interrogation, Meili’s questions are unsystematic in their approach, and quite useless; information on his skills won’t help her any. “—That’s difficult to say.”
Meili tugs at his sleeve again. “Were there any stronger than the Ulgarms?”
Reinhard nods. “—Ulgarms aren’t difficult to dispose of for any experienced knight, though of course a pack numerous enough can be irksome to deal with.”
They are intelligent, so they would retreat before a superior opponent, and thus it can take longer than it should to take care of them. Such as now. A few of them hid deeper into the forest when confronted with an unexpected breach of their territory— but Reinhard expected that much.
“—So Mister really fought stronger mabeasts—!”
“—The Augria Dunes host mabeasts that can spit a venom strong enough to kill by contact, and many of them grew armored hides to shield them from the others. They make for more challenging opponents than Ulgarms.”
Or would, to anyone other than himself.
“Did Mister go there to find strong monsters?”
Reinhard slows his steps and tilts his head to the side. The chatter from other animals vanished in this stretch of the forest— it’s safe to say that they are closing in on their target, if all other wildlife sought refuge elsewhere. His voice lowers to a murmur to match the sudden silence, and he shakes his head. “—I only travel by the Council of Sage’s orders.”
“—Are they strong like Mister? My Big Sister says Mister is the strongest—”
“—No. But a few of them served in the war and used to be powerful combatants.”
“Why does Mister take orders from them?”
It takes a few seconds for the words to sink in his head, and when they do, Reinhard tenses. The Council’s will is the same as the Kingdom’s, and should be followed without question. It is the correct conduct to keep— his title as Sword Saint guarantees that his life would be pledged to serve the Royal Family.
But they’re long dead, all except one, and as the words echo into his mind his mouth parts, but keeps no reply he can offer comes to him.
Silence falls on the rest of their trek.
“What do you intend to do?”
Reinhard pauses and looks upward, where Carol’s worried, drained face waits for him to acknowledge the words. The question comes as an ambush— as they weren’t talking about anything distressing. The difficulties that will come with providing Lady Felt with a fitting retinue still belong to the future for now, and they have more than enough time to prepare the household for the change—on that account, expenses should not be particularly difficult an issue either.
Carol sighs. “About Schwartz.”
“—Schwartz?”
“I raised you better than this.” The fondness underneath the rebuke mellows any sharp edges.
So Reinhard nods with a polite, reserved smile as etiquette requires; it never failed to please her in the past. “My apologies, but I don’t understand.”
“Are you certain she shall be ready by the time we’ll need to compete with the other factions? Whatever happened in the Mathers domain—”
“—I’m quite convinced Schwartz will talk about it when she is ready.”
The wrinkles around Carol’s eyes deepen as her mouth turns downward, and a familiar pang of guilt flickers in his chest. Reinhard squashes it. His reply is within reason, he believes. It’s been stressed to him how important it is to let others talk about their issues at their own pace, instead of taking matters in his own hands, and he refuses to make a mistake due to haste now. Schwartz needs time to process her previous circumstances as well.
“—Have you taken a look at her eyes?”
Reinhard tilts his head to the side. “I have.”
It’s hard not to notice Schwartz’s eyes, as exotic as they are, and they have become even more unearthly in the last few days— it is improper of him, he knows as much. He caught himself watching more than once as her gaze lingers in the distance and she loses herself in her work; though he does not understand why that represents a breach in etiquette. The soulful yet empty depth of her eyes is fascinating to look at.
Carol exhales. “I suppose it wouldn’t bring back any memories for you. You’re far too young. How death would leave a mark in someone eyes—”
He considers that— it would likely be impolite to inquire further. If it is a matter stemming from the Demi-Human War, it’s best not to make Carol relive those memories, and if Schwartz experienced something similar— well, pressuring her would be even more inappropriate, would that be the case.
“Nonetheless, if she is to take on an active role in the Royal Selection, she will need to join more of Lady Felt’s lessons as well. That will impact her availability for work. And I’m not convinced it wouldn’t be too— stressful in her current condition. It is a great responsibility.”
Reinhard frowns. Should Schwartz choose to support Lady Felt rather than just be part of the Astrea staff, it would be—
advantageous
for their faction. Her Divine Protection is one in hundreds— perhaps even thousands. Lord Miklotov would know more details. Though he won’t mention the issue, nor with her and not with the Council, unless it’s raised first; the last thing he wants to do is force her, and the councilors would without a doubt require her skills put to use in other matters, if not the Selection. “I will be beside both of them, and I can compensate for anything that’s needed with my Blessings. It’s the safer option for them as well.”
Furthermore, excluding Schwartz from the Royal Selection process would mean she has to stay back at the estate while he accompanies Lady Felt to meetings and inspections. Her unwillingness to do so has already been made apparent— and Reinhard himself found himself just as unwilling to leave her behind where he cannot guarantee her safety. The mistake of what happened at Lord Mathers’ Mansion won’t have a repeat. He did Schwartz a dishonor, not taking her reluctance to go as seriously as he should have; regardless of whether it was born from a vision or from simple nerves— not when she has pledged to his household.
He’s the strongest man in the world. Keeping an employee of the estate safe –someone who proclaimed friendship to him – should be a simple matter.
Carol rubs her temple. “It might be so, but even you cannot make alliances in Lady Felt’s place. It has to come from her.”
Reinhard frowns. “—we cannot be already at disadvantage. The Council’s guidance—”
“—won’t stop the other candidates from speaking to their own vassals and allies. Even if they had followed the Council’s request— and I don’t believe Anastasia Hoshin had any intention to– anybody with eyes and ears can make a guess as to what’s happening.”
“—Julius would dissuade Lady Hoshin from revealing anything.”
Carol arches an eyebrow.
Reinhard winces.
“—It is not so bleak, though. It is true that none of the other candidates will have your alliance.”
“Quite so.”
As unpleasant as the thought is, that none of the other candidates made an overture to him is a clear hint that they already suspect he found the missing fifth candidate. Lady Crusch would have already contacted him for certain, he thinks, in light of their shared memories. Disappointment is a heavy thing— though Felix is far too pragmatic for Reinhard to hope he wouldn’t steer Lady Crusch in the correct direction, he had at least hoped he would keep the appearance of fairness and not reveal anything outright.
Ah. Reinhard smiles, wistful. Felix’s Lady must have been quite cross at that— though only a fool would ignore critical information, and with Grandfather advising her as well, he would have ensured she wouldn’t lose what little edge such news would give her. He pauses. A visit to Lady Crusch’s estate would mean Reinhard would see him, and Schwartz— Schwartz would meet Grandfather as well. That—
“That aside, there is something I need to ask of you—”
Carol’s words drag with hesitance, and Reinhard blinks as the trail of thought slips between his fingers. He– will think about that later. Yes. Carol would want him to pay attention. It isn’t often that she doesn’t feel she can be blunt with her requests, and he cannot remember the last time she needed to ask anything. In all but name, she has been the figurehead of the household since he was a child.
“You should speak to Lady Felt about what’s required of her, too— you cannot prepare her by keeping her in the dark.”
Reinhard shakes his head. “I cannot do that.”
It benefited them that Schwartz persuaded Lady Felt to stop with the escape attempts, though Reinhard isn’t certain of what she could have done to obtain such a result; he won’t ask not until Schwartz feels like sharing what happened herself. The result is what’s important.
Regardless, he shall be vigilant, because he cannot betray the oath he’s made to the Royal Family and allow Lady Felt to disappear. “She doesn’t need to prepare yet. I can perform as the needs arise, until the Selection Ceremony.”
“What will you do if she refuses to participate?”
“She won’t be allowed to do so.”
The words taste sour in his mouth, yet to lie would feel much worse. Lady Felt cannot, under any circumstances, deny her duty— the best outcome for the Kingdom would be for the line of Farsale to be restored to the throne. Reinhard smiles, apologetic. It is close to dinner time; they should not linger on such a heavy topic. Carol does not return the gesture. Her eyes darken, and then she lowers her gaze.
“I did not mean to add to your burdens.”
She keeps silent, long enough for him to think that she must be cross with him. Before he can speak again, however, the tension in her shoulders lessens. “At the very least, I cannot say you’re the only one who’s worrying me at the moment, or even the one that worries me the most.”
“Pardon?”
“Your father hasn’t been in contact for longer than usual. I fear—” Her voice trails off.
Ah. He should make inquiries in that sense, as well. Even by his standards, it’s— disquieting, how long Father has been out of contact.
It is quite fortunate that his Blessing of a Calm Mind makes it so that his decisions won’t be affected by distress, because the burst of mana Reinhard detects from the kitchens is great enough to rip apart a modest cabin, and there is no reason it should ever happen inside of the main building.
Nonetheless, it isn't the most surprising thing. What's surprising is the sight that waits for him once he steps into the kitchens— Schwartz turns toward him with a bowl of cream clutched to her chest and offers a sheepish grimace.
“Sorry. Didn’t think it would— do that.”
Reinhard follows her nod with his gaze— and finds the cause of the commotion. One of the ovens, an old and solid piece of equipment powered by a minor metia, is-- well, out of commission would be an apt enough term for its condition. It's remarkable, considering that it's likely that that particular oven is- was- twice as old as Carol is, and never suffered more than a couple of scratches since Reinhard has memory of it.
The cast iron of the outer shell bent onto itself and blackened with thick stains of smoke-- and that still spreads from the oven nook and upwards. He pauses. Even fragments of mana crystals condense enough mana to cause explosions of significant magnitude, so it would be best if he could nudge Schwartz out of the kitchens and take care of the issue. He should come up with an excuse; it's best not to alarm her.
“—That was very expensive, wasn’t it?” The anxiety in her voice makes Reinhard wince.
It was, but that isn't noteworthy. “That doesn’t matter— as long as you aren’t hurt, all is well.”
And truth to be told, they can afford to replace it— though the wait for a new mana stone to be sourced might be quite long, since Gusteko halted trade of the crystals for the next few months.
“I— I really didn’t think it would do that. It’s just—” Her fingers tighten around the bowl she carries. Even in her agitation, her eyes keep that fixed quality they already possessed before- the dark depth of their color makes it so, and the exhaustion exacerbates it— both because of the black circles from the lack of rest, and the pallor of her skin. Carol did mention she hasn’t been sleeping at all in the last week.
Reinhard lifts a hand to reassure her. “It’s truly quite alright— but I’d like to know how it happened.”
He’s never heard of this happening through normal means; not to a metia that wasn’t conditioned into a fire crystal.
Schwartz fidgets, then points at her fire spirit. It lingers nearby, and it almost seems to judge Reinhard from where he is perched, above a dozen folded towels. “So, you know how he likes to doze off on candle flames and sometimes even into the lit fireplace?”
Reinhard does not know. He should have paid more attention to the fire spirit, perhaps, because what he does detect through his Blessing of Judgement is that the little fire spirit doesn’t match to the same mana amounts he’s registered in the first few days it contracted Schwartz. It's now near to the aura of a proper spirit, now, rather to a quasi-spirit.
That— isn’t necessarily a good thing.
“I realized he’s been getting stronger from it, so, uhm— I experimented a little? Since Miss Carol said there’s a— metia, inside that thing. That there was a metia. I guess.”
"—That's... quite dangerous. I would advise you to be cautious and don't try such a thing again," Reinhard hesitates. It's an unorthodox reasoning as well, but perhaps he should not phrase it that way, at least for now. It should be common knowledge how dangerous a damaged metia is, but perhaps Schwartz's previous home did not have any available to know that. Unease– no, worry makes his gut twist. Maybe— "—Did your spirit ask you to try it?"
Spirits can be mischievous in their own way at times. However, they don't always realize how fragile their contractors can be, and that can be deadly to the inexperienced.
Schwartz shakes her head. "No, I just figured— maybe it eats the energy from the candle flame, and a metia would have much more energy? Does that make sense?"
"—I suppose."
"At least it seems like it worked. I can talk to him in my head now— couldn't do that before," Schwartz reaches out to the spirit with her hand to tap at it with her index finger, all danger forgotten, and her spirit dims, as if considering her gesture. Reinhard— doesn't feel reassured. "His name is Mel—!"
Ah. Reinhard's mouth folds into a smile, despite himself. It is not associated with the most auspicious fate, but the name does convey Schwartz's hopes for it well— it is quite endearing that she would choose to name her own companion after the former Great Spirit of Fire. Of course, it is unlikely it would ever reach the same powers.
Mel shifts and moves closer to Schwartz's shoulder, brighter and steadier than what Reinhard has seen in the past weeks. Even without a physical eye, he can feel the weight of the spirit's consideration, but none of the interest that usually accompanies it— that is impressive in itself. Most of them find it difficult to look past the favor Od Laguna grants him.
Schwartz glances at Mel and scowls. "—Hey! I didn't feed you to be like that."
Reinhard blinks.
"What are you talking about now– you're mean—!"
The hiss from the change in temperature about the spirit might be unintelligible as words, but the meaning is difficult to mistake for anything positive. Reinhard hides a chuckle behind his hand. "Might I make the guess that he's upset?"
"—He says he doesn't trust you." Schwartz's eyes go wide at the words, and she pouts.
Reinhard frowns. It does not matter how the spirit feels about him, but that brings Mel's ego from uncommon to unusual– no, to rare. It should feel at least some measure of goodwill towards him, due to his Divine Protections. While it is not odd for a spirit to be possessive of their contractor, discounted what makes himself well-liked by the spirits, Mel just gained the ability to talk and put concepts into words— this process has been fast as well… faster than normal.
Mel glows brighter, and the mana around him grows thicker— until Schwartz swats at him with her hand and the spell disperses.
"Yeah, don't. Sorry about that—"
"—It is of no consequence. Something like that wouldn't really have effects."
Even if Schwartz’s actions strengthened him, Mel is far from a threat.
She bites her lower lip. "—It’s still mean.”
Schwartz draws her shoulders together, head lowered and eyes on the bowl of whipped cream in her arms, and stands still for a long time, so still that Reinhard has to restrain the impulse to reach out as to check she’s breathing, or brush his fingertips along her furrowed brow. With her features turned downward like that, the shadows darkened her eyes to black ink.
Then she looks up to meet his gaze head on, and the moment ends.
“—Here—! I couldn’t finish the cake because, yeah, no oven, but maybe it’s still good like this—” Schwartz shoves the bowl forward until it hits his chest, then pats the apron pocket and freezes. Her eyes grow large– hit with the realization, perhaps– and her cheeks turn pink. “ —But probably not without a spoon. Sorry. I can— I’m gonna go. Get one. And coffee maybe. One second—”
Before he can open his mouth to stop her, she turns and dashes to the opposite end of the kitchens. Mel doesn’t follow, but his light dims while he hovers in the same spot in midair.
Then Reinhard’s mind processes the words, and he blinks— coffee ? Could she mean coff ?
A sliver of warm, dim light underlines the bottom of the library door.
Reinhard hesitates. Nobody should be awake at this time of the night— even Lady Felt, who does nothing but show reluctance to sleep, retired a good four hours ago. Everyone else in the mansion would have done the same before her. His Blessings would have alerted him of true danger, but nonetheless, it would be best to take a look, just in case something is amiss.
His fingers close around the doorknob, and he pushes the door open.
Schwartz sits on the sofa on the right corner, book in hand and legs curled against her torso.
“—Reinhard?”
“—My apologies. I didn't mean to intrude.”
Schwartz shakes her head. “I’m just— I’m doing homework, more or less. I need to learn to read better— and, this is your home. So.”
“It doesn’t seem like the most appropriate time for reading exercise.”
Her index and thumb thug at a lock of air. “Guess so, but I couldn’t sleep— sorry.”
Of course, Reinhard already knew that. Perhaps he should have approached this with a more light-hearted question. He nods. “It is no fault of yours— but I admit it’d be reassuring if you could at least rest, even without any sleep.”
Schwartz smiles, but there’s little mirth in it. “It’s better if I keep busy. Laying in bed like that— it’s not for me.”
She falls silent, closes the book and places it between her side and the sofa’s arm. Whatever happened to her during her time in the mansion might have awakened old wounds, to affect her to this point. In her first days at the Astrea Estate, Schwartz had been wary of sudden gestures and to outsiders, but her sleep schedule didn’t seem irregular back then. Reinhard might be wrong and this relates to both the day in the capital and the latest events combined.
But unless Schwartz talks about it, he has no way to guess which.
“—I understand,” Reinhard doesn’t. He’s never been so ill or shaken as to lose sleep to this degree, not even as a child; however, Felix impressed upon him the importance of sympathizing in the past, as well as how important it is to listen, so he shall try his best to help. “ —If you wish, I would be glad to listen. Or help you, in any way I can. ”
Her smile softens. “I— don’t think I can talk about it. But thanks.”
A line creases between her eyebrows right after, and Schwartz’s lips part as if she means to say more, but at the same time it troubles her to do so.A blush makes a return on her features; Schwartz— blushes often. He noticed as much, but doesn’t know why.
“—Can I ask you something? Even if it’s weird?”
Reinhard nods. He has to admit, her reaction is peculiar, and makes him curious— she never had problems talking to him before this.
Still, she hesitates, and bites her bottom lip. “You promise you won’t think I’m a weirdo?”
“I don’t think I could ever think lowly of you.”
“—’Kay. Good enough, I guess—” Schwartz inhales once, deep and slow, her bosom raising with the motion. “—Can you do the thing you did back at the shack?”
Reinhard tilts his head. That— is far more vague a request than what he expected. “Thing?”
“Yeah. You know,” Her right hand waves back and forth as the color brightens on her cheeks. “That thing. Remember?”
“—I apologize, but I don’t understand.”
Schwartz pouts and wraps both of her hands around his. The warmth of her palms startles him, though he masks the reaction without any issue. It is quite fortunate. If Reinhard reacted in a way that could be mistaken for discomfort, she could have backed away. He– doesn’t want that. Her hands are quite tiny— they barely close around his fully.
She pulls his hand until it rests in front of her face, palm open. Oh.
“What you did back then to make me fall asleep. Can you do it again?”
Schwartz wishes for him to drain her mana. Reinhard hesitates. “Are you certain—?”
“—I wish I could sleep. Just for a bit.”
Her request is understandable in light of that. Nonetheless, had it been directed to anyone other than himself, Reinhard would have rejected the possibility— draining mana from someone could hurt them, and she appears to have already been subjected to mana manipulation in the past. However, from what Carol mentioned Schwartz has already gone without any sleep for more than a week now, which is also dangerous to her health.
Reinhard lowers his hand and turns it upward, squeezes her palm in his. If there is someone who can do it without any risk, it’s him. He doesn’t want to let her down when she’s suffering. “—I understand.”
Schwartz squeezes back.
“You should lay back. You could fall and hurt yourself.”
“I doubt that. I’m sitting down, and you’re right here,” She huffs. Then her head tilts to the side like a bird, and she smirks, then pats the spot beside her. “Yeah, that’ll do. Come on.”
Reinhard sits.
“Okay, I’m ready. Let’s do it.”
Schwartz turns towards him with her eyes already closed. It feels somewhat strange to see her like thatIt makes his heartbeat pick up as well, though it doesn’t feel unpleasant. His hand brushes against her eyelids. Reinhard focuses. Her mana begins to flow to him in a trickle, and his instinct tells him to open the connection with his defective Gate, to take all of it— no. He crushes it down. That would harm her beyond repair.
Reinhard drains the mana for a couple seconds more, then stops. It should suffice.
Schwartz’s eyes blink open. “—Is it done?”
Her hands shift to her mouth to cover a yawn.
He restrained himself more than he did last time, to avoid any chance of damaging her Gate. It should take her a few seconds more to fall asleep, compared to the instant effect from last time, and from the way Schwartz sways in place, it seems to be enough. It’s a relief. Schwartz’s hand moves to his chest and her fingers around his shirt.
“—Thanks—”
With that, she succumbs to sleep, and slumps downward— first on his chest, then lower, as her grips loosens, until her shoulders and head lay on his legs sideways, in a position that mirrors how Reinhard himself rested on her lap a few short days prior. This time, it’s his own face that heats up in a blush. He stills. It’s irrational to think he could wake her after the mana drain, or that she would notice being moved to another position, yet he is loath to disturb her.
Her hair spills all across her back and his legs. Reinhard’s hand stops a couple of inches from her head. Lady Felt ordered him not to touch her hair again in such a situation; Schwartz said it’s alright to.
He forces a breath out, slow and even.
“—Mister—!”
Reinhard jolts back as if he’s been burnt. That– does not happen often. “—Why are you here?”
Meili shrugs. “I wanted to explore, but you and Miss Carol don’t like it.”
That’s correct. Even though they accepted Meili’s presence in the mansion, both of them would have preferred her movements restricted for a while longer. No matter. Reinhard can make sure nothing happens, regardless of her attempts. It would be shameful not to avoid such a trivial issue.
She walks closer, and plops onto the cushion beside him. “—Were you reading to Miss S.? My Big Sister reads to me when I can’t sleep, but she’s not very good at it.”
Reinhard tilts his head. “—You should go back to bed.”
“ —But that’s soo boring,” Meili glances down, and without hesitation pats Schwartz’s head, then her eyes brighten with interest. Her tiny hand lifts a section of thick, black hair until it brushes against her skirt as well. “My Big Sister has the same hair, too. I braided it for her aall the time—! Do you think Miss would mind if I did that for her?”
“You— shouldn’t do that right now.”
Meili blinks, and looks down at Schwartz’s face. “Why not?”
“Well—”
But before Reinhard can find a reply, Meili’s next words push him off-kilter again.
“Hey, Mister, can you do a lace braid—?”