Previously
Henrietta discovers the hidden snacks and joyfully consumes them, interpreting them as a 'welcome gift' from her new comrades. She reflects on her past life of controlled luxury under Georg Salt and feels a newfound sense of agency in her sparse military life.
Training an elegant noblewoman as an enlisted soldier was no easy task.
Nobles had always belonged to the upper class, and women among them had been treated with even greater reverence, making it terribly difficult to break through that mold.
That applied to both teacher and pupil.
Besides, being a soldier was inherently physical labor.
Of course, there were women who had dreamed of becoming officers since childhood or who enjoyed riding horses and hunting.
Yet if Henrietta had been that sort of person, she would have joined the army or entered an officer academy long ago.
Given that she had enlisted as a private where anyone was accepted, she was most likely just an ordinary noblewoman.
Even if she was good with a crossbow and possessed the skill to beat her husband half to death.
The heaviest thing most noblewomen had ever held was an instrument.
Teaching basic drill and discipline to women whose physical strength and stamina were nonexistent was bound to hit a wall from the very start.
Therefore, the reason the Duke had appointed his vassal, Billy, as drill instructor was simply this:
He was easy to push around.
“Because you’re the most idle.”
The Duke knew how to handle Billy.
“Can’t argue with that.”
Billy conceded readily. In fact, just yesterday, the most he had done all day was chatter away before escorting Henrietta to the barracks.
“I was planning to go watch the new recruit get trained anyway, so I guess I won't have to make a separate trip.”
Seeing Billy so amused made the Duke a little spiteful and a bit concerned.
“She’s just another recruit. No privileges, no discrimination.”
“Aw, come on. It can't be exactly the same. Her status as a noblewoman doesn’t just disappear.”
“Make it disappear. That’s your job as drill instructor.”
Billy tilted his head slightly and replied,
“I understand what you’re worried about, but it’ll be fine. When I took her to the barracks yesterday, her reaction was….”
Billy drew out his words slowly as he searched for the right phrase.
“…how should I put it? She seemed quite pleased with the barracks? I expected her to be completely shocked. Doesn't that prove her mindset is already more than prepared?”
The Duke replied with an unimpressed expression.
“Did you forget? That woman was locked up in prison until recently.”
“Ah!”
To Henrietta, a six-person barrack room must have looked practically like a princess’s chamber compared to prison.
***
Henrietta fell into a deep, peaceful sleep, the kind she hadn’t enjoyed in ages, as though she were swaddled in plush bedding.
While the prison reserved for noblewomen was in better condition than most, it was still a prison: cold, damp, dark, and hard.
And if she were to rate the inn she had stayed at recently, she would give its comfort about three points. Out of a hundred, for the record. The other ninety-seven points had been docked by the distinctive mustiness and decay of an old inn, dust bunnies, creaky fixtures, multi-legged bugs, and the noise.
Especially the noise.
That damn noise!
Because the inn doubled as a tavern, it remained noisy with the clamor of drunks well into the late hours of the night.
The quiet that finally settled around dawn was fleeting.
Soon, industrious merchants poured out into the streets, and starting with the clatter of cart wheels, all kinds of noise filtered unfiltered through the gaps in the window.
Having gone without proper rest for so long, Henrietta was finally able to sleep soundly on her first night in the military, wrapped in stillness.
“Phew—.”
Henrietta opened her eyes on the cot and let out a long breath as she rolled onto her side.
Her heart gave a slight thump when she opened her eyes and saw the ceiling.
‘An unfamiliar ceiling.’
Soon, though, the events of yesterday rushed back all at once, bringing relief.
How long had it been since she had opened her eyes feeling this at ease?
Back when she lived as a countess in name only, she could not sleep until the Count slept, and she had to wake whenever he woke her.
While she ate, dressed, and lived on his coin, she had been treated less like a wife and more like a pet.
Though thanks to that, she had learned the value of money. Gee, thanks a bunch.
Money. For Henrietta, money was the root cause of every knot in her life.
It was a lack of money that forced her to live under her uncle’s roof, and a lack of money that left her no choice but to follow along when she was sold off to the Count.
Of course, she hadn’t agreed to marry him without hesitation from the start.
Just once, she had told her aunt that she wanted to marry someone she actually chose, that she didn’t know what kind of person the Count was, and that it felt too sudden and early.
The moment her aunt heard that, she glared with daggers in her eyes and snapped,
“Henrietta. Get a grip. Becoming a countess with your background—you should be on your knees in gratitude! And do you have any idea how much money your uncle has spent on you all this time? The Count has graciously offered to repay your uncle on your behalf! Yet you dare refuse this marriage? How can you speak such selfish, childish nonsense? Do you have any sense at all? Don't you feel the least bit sorry toward your uncle? Or must you put me in an awkward spot, too? Don’t let another word leave your lips, and stay quietly in your room until the wedding!”
Henrietta had been struck speechless by her aunt’s naked self-interest.
She understood all too well that aristocratic marriage was little more than a business deal, where each side fiercely calculated the other’s value.
In that case, the family must have run those same calculations when they took in a maternal relative who had essentially been cut off.
The money required to raise an orphaned niece, weighed against the profit gained by marrying her off.
Not that such a marriage seemed entirely terrible. Looking at her aunt alone, she had come from an impoverished house just like Henrietta, yet she met a young lord from a wealthy family and lived comfortably enough.
Dancing a single time in a ballroom before marriage had been the full extent of courtship for both her aunt and Henrietta.
Ever since she had grown old enough to understand the world.
More precisely, ever since she realized that her father’s attempts to recover the family fortune were no different from a gambler frequenting tables he could never win.
All Henrietta had ever wanted was personal security. She didn't want to be poor anymore, and she didn't want to live with her heart in knots, fretting over a father who had vanished without a trace.
So she married. Because that was just what aristocratic marriages were. Whether the man was good or bad, whether he loved her, whether she loved him—none of that mattered.
Guaranteed wealth, restful sleep, and days that unfolded in steady repetition. That was what life was like for a truly wealthy noble.
Only after the marriage did she realize that blaming poverty could be nothing more than an excuse.
‘…But now, I can choose everything for myself.’
Having cast off the shackles of marriage, she saw it clearly. Her life had not become tangled because she lacked money.
It had been because she chose the easy road. Because instead of fighting to escape poverty, she had merely conformed to her surroundings.
‘Putting my life on the line was my choice, too.’
She had shed her pride and pretension, neither of which did a single thing to beat poverty.
Then again, those burdensome things had fallen away naturally while she was in prison.
So let’s do our best today, too! New Henrietta!
“Ngh—!”
Still lying down, Henrietta stretched thoroughly and then sprang to her feet.
Thanks to a solid night’s sleep, her mind felt remarkably clear.
She rubbed her dry face with her hands and glanced around out of habit, looking for tea.
Old habits die hard. More than twenty years of living like a noblewoman wasn’t something that vanished overnight.
At any rate, the barracks did have a stove and an old kettle. It was just that neither was in working order.
“Nothing to be done about it.”
Her mouth felt dry, but she decided water would do and walked over to the barracks door.
As she pulled open the door, which squeaked as if the hinges hadn’t seen oil in years, warm sunlight—!
“Gasp!”
She found herself looking right into the wide, glaring eyes of the Duke, burning hotter than any sunlight.
Startled out of her wits, Henrietta lost her grip on the doorknob.
“Wh-what was that?”
Before she could check again, the Duke’s voice confirmed his presence.
“Trainee Macias. Get out here right now.”
Henrietta cracked the door open and peeked out, showing only her face.
“Could you give me a moment to prepare?”
“Three minutes.”
“Thirty minutes?”
“Two minutes.”
“I’ll be ready in three minutes.”
Negotiations broke down swiftly.