An Unexpected Visitor
The lunch break had long passed when the maid entered Annette’s private quarters with a message.
“Madam, a gentleman has come to request an audience. He claims to be an old acquaintance of yours…”
“An old acquaintance of mine?”
Who among her contacts would bother to seek her out? Annette’s curiosity deepened as the familiar name reached her ears.
“Indeed, sir. Ansgar Stetter.”
Annette turned the name over in her mind once, twice. Her eyes widened slowly. She murmured in a daze, “Ansgar…?”
Ansgar Stetter.
The second son of the fallen Stetter count family, childhood friend of Annette Rosenberg.
In the past Ansgar had pursued her, but the union had never come to pass. When Annette married, he had gone to study as a waitress in France. After the revolution, she had heard nothing from him.
“Madam? What shall I do?”
“…Ah. That….”
Annette could not answer at once. Hesitation filled her. It was not that she distrusted him or found him disagreeable. It was simply…
To appear so wretched.
The Stetters had been close allies of the Rosenbergs. That was why Annette and Ansgar had grown up together from childhood.
When the Rosenberg house collapsed, the Stetters had fallen with it, as was only right. Ansgar had been abroad at the time of the revolution and had escaped the bloodletting by good fortune.
Yet Annette’s fate and Ansgar’s were not merely a matter of distance. Her situation had diverged from that of every other fallen noble as well.
After the revolution the Revolutionary Army had weaponized public opinion to justify the violence and stabilize the fragile order. Annette had been one of the chief figures in that campaign.
She had been ideally suited for it—royal blood, the living symbol of nobility, and the daughter of a military commander.
The press had savaged her from neck to heels, spreading the anti-noble sentiment that still poisoned Padania today. In the republic, Annette Rosenberg was little more than a legendary villainess.
While Annette weighed her options, she finally gave the permission they sought.
“…First, the drawing room. Lead him there. I will come shortly.”
“Very well, madam.”
The maid bowed and withdrew. Annette sat before the vanity, staring into the mirror. The woman reflected there looked on the verge of collapse.
She applied only the simplest of makeup—rouge on her lips, a touch of crimson on her cheeks. The color gave her the barest hint of life.
Descending to the drawing room, she found the maid waiting.
“The gentleman…?”
“He is inside. I have prepared tea for him.”
Annette drew a slow breath, then opened the door. Her hand trembled on the knob.
The drawing room carried a faint scent of tea. A man in a brown suit sat neatly on the sofa. As Annette entered, Ansgar rose, doffing his hat.
“Annette.”
“…It has been so long.”
She offered a gentle smile, her tone light. Ansgar’s face, by contrast, was full of joy and sorrow at once.
He crossed the room in two strides and pulled her into his arms. Annette pressed her face to his back, swallowing the sob that rose in her throat.
They parted after a brief embrace. Throughout the exchange that followed, Ansgar never once took his eyes from her face.
“You look thinner.”
“Does it show?”
“Still beautiful.”
Annette smiled without answering. She had almost asked whether he still carried a torch for her, but the thought died on her tongue. Whether he did or not no longer mattered.
“I sent you a letter weeks ago. No reply came, so I had no choice but to come in person.”
“Perhaps the post office was instructed to discard letters without an address. Or maybe I walked to the old estate by mistake.”
She spoke lightly, but Ansgar’s expression did not brighten.
“…No. I went straight to the ambassador’s residence first. Wife of the Commander-in-Chief, you know.”
“How have you been? Have you returned to Padania for good?”
“Not at all. I came only to sort a few matters. I had to come once… and I needed to see you. I am now a diplomat in France.”
“France? Not a waitress anymore?”
“I finished my studies and went straight to France. Many of my friends are there.”
Most Padanian nobles who fled the revolution had found sanctuary in France. He was surely referring to them.
“A diplomat. Well done, Ansgar.”
“Well done? If I had stayed in the old ways, a better life might have been mine.”
The phrase “in the old ways” sent an odd pang through Annette.
The life before the revolution. The life that would never come again. Had it truly been better? Perhaps. Perhaps…
“How have you been, Annette?”
Annette snapped back to herself. The sensitive man before her tilted his head. She answered vaguely.
“…Oh. Well. Just living.”
Ansgar’s gaze held a strange knowingness, as if he already knew every detail of how she had survived. Of course he did. A diplomat would learn such things quickly.
He took a sip of tea, then spoke softly.
“I married once.”
“Really? Congratulations. The bride…?”
“Last year we divorced.”
Annette’s surprise must have shown, for Ansgar smiled wryly.
“It was arranged for convenience—needed citizenship, that’s all.”
“So… you did.”
“And you?”
“Me?”
“Will you stay in this marriage?”
His directness left Annette speechless. Not because she lacked words, but because the maid stood by the doorway. Every servant inside the ambassador’s residence answered to Heiner Valdemar.
Every word spoken here would reach him.
“…First, I—”
“Tell me you didn’t choose this for yourself. You know what your husband did to us.”
“I am not that naïve, Ansgar.”
“I… did not mean to insult you.”
“I know. And I want a divorce. Just not now.”
Annette paused, searching for the right words. Her husband had refused the petition. She could not promise victory in the divorce court; if he dug in, they might send her to an asylum instead.
Whatever she said, the conversation would grow long. She studied the shadow that stood behind the maid and spoke in fragments.
“…Divorcing at once is… difficult.”
“You would have nowhere to go anyway. Correct?”
“Was that the purpose of your visit? To make me feel sorry for myself?”
“Do not take it that way, Annette. I am genuinely worried about you. I only want to be honest.”
Ansgar raised both hands in protest, then let them drop. A moment later he spoke with quiet resolve.
“Come with me to France.”
“…What?”
“I still love you. I have waited for the day I could take you with me. Marriage to me would grant you French citizenship.”
“….”
“You know the climate inside Padania. You have been used by the republicans. Your husband will not help you unless he chooses to. The choice is yours alone.”
“….”
“Take my hand, Annette.”
His voice softened, reassuring.
“You will be happier than you have ever been.”
“I will make you happy for the rest of your life.”
Annette gazed steadily at his handsome face. Ansgar waited, patient. Finally she answered, voice hollow.
“My husband… would never consent.”
“Even if we divorced, what does it matter if he objects? He is Commander-in-Chief. He will never allow defiance.”
“Ansgar, you don’t understand…”
A flicker of horror crossed Ansgar’s features. Annette could guess the thought he could not voice—whether Heiner had locked her away, whether he abused her mind and body… Whatever horrors might lie behind those walls.
She could not call them impossible. But she did not want pity.
“Whatever you think, Ansgar, I am fine. You need not worry so much.”
“Even aside from the divorce, the overall situation—”
“Three years.”
Annette cut him off gently.
“I have endured three years. There is no reason I cannot endure them still.”
Ansgar’s expression changed. The room seemed to darken. Annette closed her eyes for a long moment, then opened them and smiled calmly.
“I would like a moment to think things through. It was sudden, wasn’t it?”
“Ah, yes. I should have waited. I was too blunt. Forgive me. I waited for today, but from your side it must have felt abrupt.”
Ansgar rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks faintly flushed. Annette shook her head.
“I should have received your letter. Tell me which way to contact you later. I will write.”
“Ah, yes! Give me your address. Here is my card… and the address behind it. Just a moment. I am staying at a hotel for now. Give the name at the desk or come straight to the room.”
Ansgar rummaged inside his coat and scribbled the address on the back of the card. The gesture reminded Annette of the boy they had once played with as children.
It had felt strangely unfamiliar a moment ago.
“Here. Write me whenever you need help.”
“I will. Thank you.”
Ansgar stood after several earnest assurances. Annette saw him all the way to the front gate. He had tried to protest, but she insisted.
An old friend. A friend who had returned. No matter the circumstances, her heart was glad.
Back inside the house, Annette closed the door and leaned against it. The silence that settled after Ansgar left was heavier than ever.
She stared at the card still clutched in her hand.
Ansgar Stetter Stetter family Ambassador to France Friend Fugitive noble Marriage Republican forces…
Her voice dropped to a whisper as she read the words again.
“…Monarchy restoration?”