Chapter 9
“Welcome back, Lady Tulia. You’ve returned today as well.”
Ruk, the primary counselor for Grand Duke Frazier, exited the study wearing a pleasant expression.
Tulia had been gazing out the window, a tiny basket—no larger than her own hand—cradled in her grip. She turned at the sound of his voice and offered a warm smile.
“Greetings.”
“If you continue to use such formal language with me, I shall find myself in quite a predicament, My Lady,” Ruk teased gently.
“Hello,” she corrected herself with a shorter greeting.
The advisor let out a soft laugh. “Yes, hello to you, Miss.”
“Have you had your midday meal?”
“I have indeed. And you, My Lady? Have you eaten?”
“Mm-hmm.”
To Ruk’s eyes, Tulia was a singular marvel, resembling a lonely blossom poking through a vast, frozen wasteland. Her bloodline tied her directly to the Frazier legacy, yet she interacted with him as though he were merely a familiar, kindly grandfather.
Many sought the favor of Ruk Kelfosher given his proximity to Assis Grand Duke Frazier, but there was a vast chasm between sycophancy and genuine warmth. What made this shift more striking was that for years, Tulia Frazier had treated him with nothing but cold indifference.
Ruk wondered if his recent reprimand of the domestic staff had sparked this change. He couldn’t fathom why she suddenly regarded him with such obvious devotion and reliance. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, however. In truth, he felt a pang of pity for her.
She carried herself like a girl who possessed no one else in this massive fortress to confide in besides himself. He suspected that was the harsh reality of her situation. It was a somber thought, but Ruk lacked the power to alter her circumstances immediately.
His sympathy drew his attention more closely to her appearance. Her gown and jewelry were remarkably plain—barely meeting the minimum standard for her rank. It was clear proof that she lacked a lady’s maid with any real expertise.
Then there was her hair. Ruk felt a surge of genuine regret just looking at it. He questioned if such a chaotic, disheveled style was currently in vogue. It certainly wasn’t. She hadn’t simply left it untied; she had clearly attempted to style it herself, but the result was disastrous. No noblewoman—nor even a commoner with a shred of pride—would ever walk out in public with such a mess.
It appeared she hadn’t even been granted a servant with basic common sense.
The internal management of the Grand Duke Frazier House was largely under the thumb of Viscount Lilius and his spouse. Although Assis Grand Duke Frazier had recently punished their son, Tedrick, and stripped him of his Direct Lineage Necklace for a time, that single incident hadn’t dismantled their control over the household’s daily operations.
In a lesser noble house, replacing such managers might be simple. But in a domain as massive as this, changing the head of internal affairs was as monumental as a king replacing his prime minister. It was the sort of upheaval that would bring the family patriarchs running to demand explanations.
The Grand Duke hadn’t seen fit to issue such a drastic command yet. Consequently, the Lilius couple remained in power, though they were currently keeping a low profile to avoid the Grand Duke’s ire. They couldn’t move against Tulia openly under the watchful eyes of the main castle, but until very recently, she had been a non-entity in the family. She had no standing to demand better staff, and the Viscount and Aubrey were likely counting on that. They needed her to appear flawed and unkempt to maintain their own leverage.
Ruk paused, a sudden realization striking him as he looked at the girl again. As an advisor, he made it his business to know the traits of every Frazier descendant, regardless of the Grand Duke’s personal apathy. The Tulia he knew was obsessed with her image; she wouldn’t dream of leaving her chambers unless she looked flawless. The rumors of her vanity were grounded in truth.
So why was she standing here so boldly with hair that looked like it had survived an explosion? The old Tulia would have stayed hidden, screaming for a proper stylist.
Ruk wondered what the Grand Duke would make of this sight. He maintained his smile and spoke up. “Lady Tulia, have you brought another batch of your homemade preserves?”
“Yes. Though I doubt Grandfather would ever want to try something like this…”
Ruk offered a pained smile, unable to contradict her. Assis Grand Duke Frazier held authority that rivaled the throne itself; his table was graced with the finest delicacies from every corner of the world. A granddaughter who had been invisible to him until a few days ago was unlikely to tempt his palate. The Grand Duke was not a man swayed by sentimentality, and he certainly wasn’t the type to sample a gift just to be kind.
He hadn’t ordered the jam destroyed, but he hadn’t touched a spoonful of it either. Ruk recalled the Grand Duke’s only comment after seeing the previous jar: that Tulia seemed to harbor a great deal of resentment toward him. The other advisors in the room had only been able to offer nervous, sweating laughter in response.
Ruk glanced at today’s offering. The jam looked just as unappealing as the last batch. Seeing her persist in this task, Ruk reflected that she truly was the child of Marquis Aster Frazier, a man known for his ferocious, beast-like determination.
Clearing his throat, Ruk smiled again. “Sometimes, My Lady, there is a special charm in such modest offerings.”
“Do you think so?”
“I am certain of it.”
As Tulia beamed, her wild, pink curls—resembling a chaotic cloud—bounced with her movement.
“My Lady, perhaps it would be wise to return to your quarters now? The council meeting is about to adjourn… that is to say, the hall will soon be filled with retainers.”
He was trying to be tactful. Seeing her in such a state would surely wound her pride—or at least, the pride he assumed she still possessed. He felt it was best she wasn’t seen this way by the family’s vassals.
Tulia’s eyes suddenly shimmered with interest. “I understand. I’ll head back then.”
As she turned away, Ruk missed the sharp, calculating grin that flickered across her face.
It was obvious the Grand Duke wasn’t eating the jam. He was a shrewd man, after all. Ruk looked nearly apologetic that he couldn’t promise the Grand Duke would enjoy the gift, but secretly, that was a relief.
Given that her jam-making skill was currently at a disastrous Level -10, she worried about the health of anyone who actually digested it. It was enough that he recognized her effort. She wanted to be seen as the granddaughter who worked hard to provide a sincere, if clumsy, gift.
Assis Grand Duke Frazier might look terrifying, but he was susceptible to displays of raw, unpolished effort. And this jam was certainly unpolished. Anyone with eyes could see the apple preserves weren’t fit for a human table, especially with that negative skill penalty making the color look stomach-turning.
Still, high-ranking nobles weren’t expected to know their way around a kitchen. If she kept showing up with these gifts, she might slowly chip away at his cold exterior. More importantly, her daily visits had allowed her to map out the schedule of the retainers.
She felt confident that by the end of the week, the kitchen would stop sending her spoiled produce.
A few days later, Tulia’s predictions bore fruit.
Viscount Lilius stormed into his private chambers, his face crimson with rage.
“Aubrey! Just what on earth have you been doing?”
