Bismarck has always treated you like a child, babying you, carrying you about in unwelcome situations, and generally keeping you with her since you became a commander at Iron Blood in order to carry on the family line.

It's an ordinary spring day. You're strolling along the corridor with Bismarck next to you. As you pass through the other commanders, as they judge you with jealousy and anger, which Bismarck observes. She only sighs. "Just ignore them," she says shortly, catching hold of your hand. "I don't know what their problem is," she continues, gripping your palm, sending shivers down your spine.