Translator: Nox

Chapter 13

Emperor Leopold Bolshtak II, the twentieth master of Shendal Castle. Like emperors before him, he was a typical Svergenian with bright golden blond hair and vivid blue eyes. Moreover, he bore the bloodlines of two noble Twelve Dukes houses: Rihardt and Baichen. It was only natural for him to look the part of a Svergenian, but even stripping away his lineage, the emperor's appearance was exceptionally striking. Even when he twisted his lips crookedly in dissatisfaction and furrowed his brow, he looked refined. Of course, in terms of refined aura, the middle-aged woman seated across from him was no slouch either. Born the daughter of the Baichen Duke house, she had become Duchess Rihardt and was now the Dowager Empress, mother to the emperor. Dowager Empress Margret, her golden blond hair the same shade as her son's adorned with ornate jeweled pins, lifted a teacup filled with hibiscus tea that had steeped to a rich red hue and spoke.

"That child's lifeline is quite long."

Daniel had awakened. Duke Daniel Johannes Rihardt, the emperor's half-brother born between the previous Rihardt Duke, Bruno Rihardt, and his concubine, the commoner Laura Czardo from Milabo. It wasn't just that unwelcome news.

"They say he awoke around ten days ago."

News that should have arrived in five days had taken ten.

'Ten days ago.'

The Dowager Empress savored the bitter, tangy flavor of the tea fully before silently placing the cup back on the table. It meant the duchy’s security had remained solid even during the three years of Daniel's unconsciousness. Laura's child was always prickly, whether visible or not. Like a thorn lodged in her throat, distinctly felt yet impossible to dislodge no matter how she tried. Irritation impossible to hide emanated from Emperor Leopold as he gazed at his absorbed mother.

"You're being too harsh on a son who's awakened after three years. Isn't a stepson still a son?"

"He's Laura's child. To me, he's nothing more than the emperor's hunting dog—valued only that much."

True to her reputation as the daughter of the intellectually armed Baichen Duke house, her words were precise. The emperor suddenly felt a chill, sensing the cool Baichen blood flowing in his own veins as well. *** The moment the duke's hand touched her forehead, Frida realized once more what her reckless heart had been trying to say these past few days.

'What do I do? I... I think I like the duke.'

Gulp. Swallowing dryly, she lowered her head, spotting the small buckles on Daniel's leather jacket. One, two, three... Out of six total, the top two were undone. The ribbon knot of the shirt beneath rose and fell leisurely along his broad chest. She knew how firm and wide that chest was from being held against it. Duke Rihardt was strong, warm, considerate, and generous. He stirred both jealousy and affection simultaneously.

'How could I not fall for him? A man this wonderful, and my husband at that... It'd be weirder not to like him, right?'

Her heart, which had barely stabilized during the few days of separate rooms, throbbed unbearably. Her cheeks flushed red like ripe sorbus berries under spring sun. Just then, Daniel's hand lifted from her forehead, lightly brushing her cheek.

"You don't look well."

'What do I do, what do I do? I can't breathe because of you. I can't breathe.'

"Hoo... Hoo..."

Frida recalled the hand gesture Muriel showed her whenever she was tense and slowly exhaled long breaths. But before she could complete the third deep breath, her body floated lightly into the air.

"M-Mommy...!"

Daniel, holding Frida, passed through the connecting door between the ducal couple's bedrooms and carried her with steady steps, gently laying her on the bed. His hand returned to her forehead.

"It's not just a slight fever."

Next, her cheek.

"I saw the maid coming, but where did she go?"

Finally, her neck. Everywhere Daniel's hand touched felt like it was set ablaze. Gulp, gulp. Only after swallowing repeatedly did her lips part.

"She went to the kitchen... for dinner."

Daniel's gaze swept over the bedroom, filled with the usual floral scents. The maid aside, even the escort knight who clung like a shadow and fussed excessively was absent.

"Where's Lady Rosivalt?"

"She's reviewing past documents related to the road construction... Right, that's what I came to discuss."

Suppressing her pounding heart, Frida recalled her purpose in seeking her husband and bolted upright. Liking her husband was one thing; this was another.

"To start the road construction I mentioned earlier, we'll need a lot of initial funding..."

"I've told you repeatedly—no need to report to me each time. Do as you wish."

How many times must he repeat himself? His irritation plainly evident, he glanced around, spotting a small basin of water. A damp towel hung over it. Seizing the moment as Daniel headed there, Frida straightened her back and continued.

"In principle, we should report to the imperial court first and get approval. But... is there a way to let them know only after we've progressed as far as possible?"

Of course there was. Countless methods, in fact. Imperial approval was largely procedural. Unless it involved assembling troops, the court had always been lenient toward nobles amassing wealth. Though prolonged imperial succession struggles had weakened finances, the Svergen imperial family owned vast territories. Lands left behind as the Twelve Dukes houses were successively extinguished had all reverted to imperial ownership. The court leased portions to nobles for profit. Collecting land and toll taxes from tax-exempt nobles required the pretext of leasing. As nobles grew richer, rates could rise, so under imperial tacit approval, wealthy nobles sprouted across the empire. Like Duke Andrea of Baimar, who had amassed a fortune in trade by leasing lands of the southern Graf Duke house, a former Twelve Dukes obliterated in the throne wars. With intra-empire trade insufficient, now even continental trade boomed; roads easing their flow were money in themselves. The court wouldn't oppose a road project that filled pockets effortlessly. As long as the initiator wasn't Duke Rihardt.

'It seems the clever Duchess Rihardt has already grasped that much.'

Daniel wrung out the cold water-soaked towel and approached the bed. Frida, her pale face blooming with feverish red patches, rolled her eyes brightly at him.

"Ideally, I'd like them to find out only after we've finished logging. That means keeping mouths shut at least until next year... Huh?"

Her head and shoulders, held by his hand, slowly lowered until they met the bed. After briefly admiring her flushed, babbling face, Daniel placed the cold towel on her forehead. Staring intently into his wife's unblinking eyes, he pressed the towel firmly with his fingertips and spoke.

"The road from the duchy to the capital is quite treacherous. Couriers dying en route is commonplace, so that excuse could buy us about a year."

We just send the approval request. Whether it arrives is heaven's will—what's to know? Her seemingly frozen eyelids blinked, and Frida's lips parted wide like a ripe mussel.

"Surely... you're not saying send the courier and then kill him?"

Quite radical imagination for a noble lady. Daniel's impassive lips twitched faintly.

"That would be more certain. We'll discuss the details after your fever breaks."

"But..."

Frida's faint resistance in sitting up was quelled by a single finger from Daniel.

"From today, I'll add a condition."

Daniel pressed firmly on her shoulders as he spoke.

"A c-condition? You mean the vault? But you clearly said I could use it freely..."

"I never said there'd be only one condition."

The emotion in her purple eyes shifted from fondness to distrust in an instant. His honest wife, with her straightforward gaze and heartbeat, couldn't hide her feelings. Pfft. Daniel's lips twitched more than before at his pouting wife, but soon settled into their usual composure. Possessing power, honor, and wealth wasn't enough—she even wielded cunning wits. His wife was an exceedingly dangerous woman. As always when facing Frida, Daniel reverted to his inscrutable, expressionless demeanor.

"On days when the duchess's health is unwell, the vault door won't open."

"Whaaat?"

Daniel pressed down again on Frida's slightly twitching shoulders. Though he felt some strength, he easily suppressed the consistently feeble reaction, infusing his eyes with a stern warning.

"I'm confiscating the key from today. Come retrieve it once your fever breaks."

"Th-that's ridiculous. This is unfair. Unfair, I say. I get fevers almost every day."

"Then the vault door will stay shut for a long time."

Confirming Frida's startled fists digging into her skirt hem, Daniel reached for the same spot.

"Pardon the rudeness."

"D-Duke!"

He had already anticipated she'd carry the key on her. According to Dominic, she visited the tower multiple times daily, emerging beaming each time. Following her hand into her skirt hem, his fingers easily found the cold metal lump. Swiftly extracting the seized key, Frida's hand flailed in the air after belatedly emerging from her skirt.

"Please forgive my rudeness."

Daniel bowed courteously in apology before crossing to his bedroom.

"Is there such a law? Taking it back like this—where's the justice?!"

The vivid anger striking his back was impressively fierce.

"Y-You liar!"

He hadn't lied, merely omitting a few words, so there was some injustice, but whatever—this much was as predicted. Crash! But the moment he closed the connecting door between the ducal bedrooms, an unexpected clamor rang out. Water droplets seeped through the not-quite-closed door gap, wetting his leg. Judging by the intensity, the basin from the side table must have collided with the door. Heh. An involuntary chuckle stuck in his throat. But the laughter he tried to stifle with his fist kept bursting forth uncontrollably.

"Kh... Heh heh. Heh heh heh."

Throwing the basin, no less. How furious must she be to even think of lifting it with those slender arms? Peeking through the door crack, Frida was glaring daggers this way, snorting in barely contained rage. Quite the sight. No, 'sight' didn't suffice. Had he known it'd be this entertaining, he'd have snatched it sooner. Propping himself against the wall with his key-holding hand, Daniel chuckled lowly for a good while. *** The duke had touched the nostril hair of the sleeping beast, Altaika.

"Just you wait. I'll get that key back no matter what."

"Sigh..."

Muriel let out a long sigh, rubbing her forehead as she watched Frida snort and steel her resolve. She should have at least warned Dominic. This lady isn't the herbivore she appears. Well, Dominic, sharp as he was, surely knew that. Thus, today's disaster could only be called a tragedy born from the duke's clumsy provocation, ignorant of whom he'd married. Letting out one more deep sigh, Muriel meticulously checked the floor for any remaining water. Falling on a slick surface would be disastrous.

"The duke probably said it out of concern for you. He's not refusing entirely—just come get it after the fever breaks."

"What's the difference from not giving it?!"

Frida bellowed, her eyes still fiercely glaring at the connecting door between the ducal bedrooms.

"You know too, Muriel. I'm sick every day, feverish every day. For me... time left isn't much."