Chapter 4
Death Can’t Sleep
***
After breakfast, Diederik took Amarion to the top floor of the mansion to begin her tour. Weapons and armor were displayed here and there in each hallway. Amarion paused in one room in particular. Elaborate portraits hung on the walls, each depicting an unfamiliar man. She had no doubt that each one had an elaborate history.
The butler explained, “The Grand Duke hails from the Morte family, with a lineage dating back to the founding of the Empire. Originally a ducal house, they ascended to grand dukes after quelling the southern rebellion six generations ago. The Morte family has served the Empire for generations.”
Amarion marveled at the sheer number of portraits filling the room.
Rather than the portraits themselves being marvelous, it was the peace of the Empire that had preserved these ancient images that was truly marvelous.
She lived in a count’s estate, but had never seen gold-encrusted decorations or paintings of any kind. Everything of value had been sold off, and the rest burned as firewood.
She quietly examined the numerous portraits. Quite a few faces resembled the Grand Duke.
‘That’s why he’s so beautiful…’
She recalled his sculpted features, curved eyes, and full lips…
Setting aside her personal tastes, it was simply a fact that he was a strikingly handsome man.
Gazing at the similar eyes in the portraits, she wondered.
‘Among them, did any bear an eerie moniker like “Death”?’
She hoped not…
Pushing aside her idle thoughts, she moved to the next room.
Countless splendid rooms adjoined the portrait gallery.
One brimmed with gold and jewels, another with musical instruments.
But what impressed her most was the Armory.
It would not be an exaggeration to say that the Grand Duke’s Armory housed weapons from every corner of the world.
She couldn’t conceal her surprise upon seeing a sword forged from pure jade displayed beside a morning star.*
[*A morning star is a club with a spiked ball mounted at the end. They’re usually made of metal and were popular in the Middle Ages.]
The knights she knew would sell everything they owned to possess such weapons.
“Does the Grand Duke use all these?”
“No. The late Grand Duke was fond of collecting them, so most were acquired during his time.”
“Oh…”
She ran her fingers along the blade of a crescent-shaped scimitar.
Diederik spoke softly.
“You may take it if you wish.”
“What? Really?”
“Yes. His Grace instructed me to give you whatever you desire.”
‘The Grand Duke said that?’
She was taken aback by his generosity.
She couldn’t fathom why he granted her such freedom, but she refrained from taking weapons that held sentimental value from his late father.
What would she even do with them once removed from here?
Wouldn’t it be better to subdue the Grand Duke with ordinary weapons rather than cherished heirlooms?
With a wistful expression, she set the scimitar down. Diederik smiled.
“Madame seems quite taken with the Armory.”
“Yes, this place is incredible.”
“The maids say Madame’s swordsmanship is exceptional.”
She flushed with embarrassment.
“It’s not like that. I just…”
“There’s no need for humility, Madame. Most knights couldn’t even hold their own against the Grand Duke.”
Well, the Grand Duke in that state hadn’t been in his right mind…
She felt like a child praised for a fib. Flustered over nothing, she hurriedly left the Armory.
After touring the ducal vault, the banquet hall, and the drawing room, they descended to the ground-floor kitchen.
The kitchen had always fascinated her… a place of roaring fire and warm sustenance.
The savory aroma of spices and cooked fare tickled her nostrils.
The maids, pausing their tasks to bow, asked tentatively,
“Madame, may we prepare something for you to eat?”
Embarrassed but unable to refuse, she murmured her thanks and retreated to the dining hall.
Having grown up wild, she would raid the kitchen for meals when hunger struck. Knowing it improper, she waited patiently to be served.
Soon, steaming meat stew and fresh bread arrived. She ate with relish.
It was the first time in her life she’d enjoyed such warm, flavorful meals daily. Her circumstances had shifted dramatically since just last week.
This was enough to make her happy. She needed no fine jewels or costly gowns.
She was content with food that wasn’t tough, frozen, or salted.
It was a simple truth about her.
***
Her belly full from the tour of the garden, she was led to the study.
The library held a staggering number of books.
Books were a luxury; even a single one was rare at the Amari estate.
‘How much wheat could these fetch if sold?’
Setting aside her pauper’s musings, she plucked a book at random.
<The History and Knights of the Empire>
It seemed a challenging read.
Yet the word “knights” quickened her pulse.
She carried the book back to the bedroom. It still didn’t feel like hers, but it was her daytime haven.
Settling onto the embroidered sofa, she opened it.
Unexpectedly narrative in style, it proved an easy and captivating read.
She was hooked.
***
The Grand Duke returned that evening.
Having just finished her meal, she greeted him at the entrance per a lady’s etiquette.
“Have you already dined?”
“Yes.”
“I wish we could have eaten together.”
She blinked at him in confusion.
The Grand Duke was smiling.
‘Why do you keep smiling like that? You seemed so somber on the first day.’
Flustered, she blurted haphazardly,
“Shall I wait from tomorrow onward, then?”
“Yes.”
Beaming, he headed to the dining hall.
His cheer felt odd; she frowned at his retreating figure, wondering if her blows to his head last night had addled him.
Shrugging it off, she returned to the bedroom.
Soon after, the Grand Duke entered, dinner and work concluded.
He sat on the bed.
“You visited the study.”
Eyes on the book in her hand, he favored her with a flawless smile.
She resolved to devise a gentler way to lull him to sleep—to repay his kindness.
“…Yes, I did.”
“The mansion… did it please you?”
“So many beautiful rooms.”
“It is the pride of the Grand Duchy.”
He smiled faintly, loosening his robe’s laces.
“The castle at the Morte estate is even more splendid.”
Per <The History and Knights of the Empire>, the Morte estate lay northeast of the Empire, unlike the southern Capital. The northern borderlands were dubbed the knights’ holy land.
Not impoverished, given its vast expanse, but winters there were harsh—like her homeland.
Unlike this eternally mild clime.
As if reading her thoughts, the Grand Duke said,
“I’ll take you there soon. It’s yours now, as well.”
His voice gentle, he lay down. Weariness closed his eyes.
She blinked.
‘Have you always spoken so oddly? Did I strike your head too hard?’
The servant entered as usual, drawing the curtains. Lights out, she swiftly hid his axe beneath the bed.
She never wanted to face that again.
***
Fortunately, that night it was merely a sword.
Disarming him was simple, but pondering a neck-strike-free method to subdue him took ages.
After toppling him onto the bed, she draped a blanket over his eyes and form, hoping combat would fade from his mind and sleep reclaim him.
Success seemed near—until a muffled growl emanated from the blanketed mound atop the Grand Duke. Goosebumps rising, she struck the nape at once.
The next morning, guilt tinged her awakening.
Yet the battered Grand Duke appeared delighted.
Having slumbered soundly these past three nights, his eyes were gentle, his smile vibrant.
He even escorted her the short distance to the dining hall.
‘Does he know what I endure to put him to sleep?’
She stole a glance at his nape.
No bruises meant no deeper guilt—small mercies.
Breakfast featured roasted chicken glazed in sweet sauce and aromatic vegetable soup.
“Wow…”
Marveling at the fragrance, she carved off a leg and savored it.
She wished kitchen folk every happiness.
The Grand Duke watched her devour the chicken in silence, speaking only after her plate halved.
“As Diederik mentioned, treat the mansion as your own—use anything at will.”
She swallowed hastily and nodded.
“Plenty of empty rooms await your vision. A dance hall, a salon—whatever you fancy.”
“I…”
‘I’ve never had a hobby in my life.’
The words caught in her throat.
Hers had been pure survival. Neck intact was her sole concern.
Embroidering or dancing? She’d sooner slay an orc menacing the Amari estate.
Sensing her hesitation, the Grand Duke continued,
“Crave anything? Tell Diederik. He’ll procure it.”
“Yes, my lord.”
She replied promptly.
The Grand Duke smiled, popping salad into his mouth.
***
