Chapter 14
Frida's parents had lived in constant anxiety, fearing they would lose their daughter. After all her sisters passed away, leaving Frida alone, their overprotection bordered on outright confinement. Until she turned seventeen, she had never set foot outside the Harkbon estate—not once, as far as she could remember. She wasn't allowed walks in the sun because her skin would sting and redden; only cloudy days were permitted. When she heard talk of a marriage proposal, she wondered if she was dreaming.
'Marriage? Me, who doesn't know how much longer I have left?'
Learning it was a political marriage arranged by the Dowager Empress filled her with leaping joy. Even if her parents opposed it, this marriage was destined to happen no matter what. To Frida, marriage meant more than just a union between man and woman, or house and house. It was her last chance to step out into the world beyond the estate. One she absolutely could not miss. The day she boarded the carriage to the duchy, her heart felt like it would burst with excitement. Even as she comforted her tearful mother, her eyes kept smiling. So much that Muriel had to shoot her warning glances to hold back. Her first long journey was arduous but exhilarating. Though she worried while transporting her comatose husband in the carriage, she never felt hardship or sorrow. She simply wanted to be as helpful as possible while she lived. After all, he was the one who had given her this chance at freedom. The past three years in the duchy had been a dream she never wanted to wake from. At first, Muriel's surveillance and nagging were relentless, but compared to life at the count's estate, it was nothing. She spent her days dreaming of new futures with people who awaited and followed her decisions. Only after arriving in the duchy did she learn that the word 'future'—unlinked to death—could bring such thrill. When her husband awoke, the thrill grew even greater. Duke Rihardt was utterly unlike the rumors swirling across the empire. He almost never lost his temper, making the label of war maniac laughable.
"Has the Duke always been so serious about everything?"
When she asked this, Dominic choked as if something had gone down wrong, coughing for a long while before gasping out,
"Well, not everything... but, uh, he's pretty calm."
Kind, gentle, considerate—those went without saying. The moment he regained consciousness, he handed over his personal vault because he felt bad that Frida had used up her entire dowry. She had even prepared herself to accept any marital duties he might demand after waking, but he never even hinted at it. He willingly gave her his original bedroom and moved to a room without a bed, enduring discomfort that made her feel mortified. Telling her not to bring flowers must be because he worried she'd suffer in the sunlight. And handsome? No need to mention that. She wanted to do anything for him. Anything within her power. Frida steeled her resolve with a determined expression.
"The Turkic merchants will arrive in two days. I need money right now to buy up all those bulbs they mentioned. You know, Muriel—the ones I've had my eye on for so long."
"Ah, those?"p>
Of course she knew. She'd heard about them until her ears rang. The things Frida wanted to buy and plant after uprooting every tree in the duchy if she had the money. The ones she swore would make a fortune just by planting. That's what she meant.
"They say those bulbs must be planted in late autumn before the first frost to bloom next spring. We need to prepare the fields, even small ones, before summer ends. Once we start, success is guaranteed. Nobles instinctively go wild for pretty, unusual things."
'Excuse me? Aren't your eyes going wild right now?'
Muriel clicked her tongue watching Frida lost in her own world. Why did the ambitions she'd suppressed under her parents' watchful eyes erupt like a dam breaking only after coming to the duchy, and so late? She understood, she really did. But... the problem isn't that, miss. Muriel kept missing the timing to point out what Frida was crucially overlooking. Meanwhile, Frida's eyes turned out the window, far toward the land she had cultivated.
"Every time the Turkic merchants came to the duchy, they said the same thing. This sunny, shadowless, dry place is perfect for growing those flowers. Just watch. The moment we cultivate and sell the flowers that only grace the Turkic royal gardens, Utrecht will become the wealthiest land in Svergen."
I'll make it happen. I, Frida, will.
She knew it too. That her remaining life wasn't long. She had barely endured twenty years, but she didn't know when she might join her sisters. Even so, she had no intention of sitting idly waiting for that day. Even if struggling through today shaved another day off her life, she would live it to the fullest. That was her vow the day she left the Harkbon estate and arrived in the duchy. Live diligently. Live as hard as she could until death. Though her stay would be short, she would pour her life into this land where others would live forever. So that even after she died, people would remember the name 'Frida.' Even if her body left, her name would live on eternally in their memories. Then, even death wouldn't mean vanishing forever. Unable to contain the surging emotion, Frida gripped the windowsill tightly, staring out into the already dark night where nothing was visible. Then, Muriel cautiously called to her.
"Um... miss."
Not wanting to be caught teary-eyed, Frida quickly wiped her eyes and turned with a bright smile.
"Sorry, Muriel. I went on too long with my boring talk again, didn't I?"
"I've heard it so much I've memorized it. But now it's time for bed. You know, right? To buy those bulbs, you need gold coins, and the key to the vault with those gold coins is with..."
Muriel nodded toward the direction of the duke's bedroom.
"That person. If you want the key back, bring down the fever first."
"Doesn't matter."
Frida's meaningful gaze pierced through the wall with the door.
"If he won't give it, I'll take it back by force."
'Sigh... and how exactly do you plan to do that?'
But asking was pointless. This young lady, a beast disguised as a herbivore, would accomplish it no matter what. *** In Shendal Castle, nobles and servants alike were mostly fair-haired with blue eyes. Because of that, Baron Boild's light brown hair stood out, drawing the eyes of passersby. Waiting for entry permission before the Dowager Empress's palace, he spotted Count Ulrich Chamberlain emerging and straightened his posture to bow.
"It's been a long time, Count Chamberlain."
"Baron Stefan Boild! Haha, how long has it been? Good to see you're still alive."
"You look as healthy as ever, Count."
Chamberlain waved his free hand, not holding his cane.
"Healthy? Look at my white hair. I'm not at that age yet, but I've aged terribly these past few years."
"I heard your health suffered after a long journey—are you alright now?"
"That was ages ago. Though crossing Yura at my age wasn't easy. West of Altas is no place for humans. It was so cold, my knees ache more every winter since."
The climate aside, he didn't even want to remember what happened in the Rüngen Empire west of Altas. Chamberlain shuddered involuntarily, recalling the icily cold Rüngen Emperor. Then, he carefully examined the man standing ramrod straight without slouching. Upon hearing Duke Rihardt had awakened, the Dowager Empress sought someone to send to the duchy. He was the one who recommended Baron Boild for the role.
"Count Chamberlain, I need eyes and ears in Utrecht. Someone serious enough to earn Daniel's trust. To keep as my own, he needs suitable weaknesses and ambitions, so it should be someone outside Chellino's social circles."
The carefully selected candidate was Stefan Boild, a distant relative by marriage to the count. He had a piddling estate, and with no heirs at forty, no one to leave it to. Intelligent but from a humble house, lacking connections to draw him to Shendal Castle. What ambitious noble without wealth lacks drive? Patting Stefan's shoulder encouragingly, the count left words of support.
"The Dowager Empress has high expectations for you."
"Thank you for this opportunity, Count."
"What opportunity? We're not strangers, haha."
Patting his shoulder a few more times, Chamberlain departed leaning on his cane. He didn't see the Dowager Empress's caution as excessive, so he had much on his mind.
"Do you think I merely distrust that child Daniel out of jealousy? No. That's not it. Most Svergen citizens don't even know the emperor's name. A land where anyone with blood and power can covet the throne—that is Svergen today."
The Dowager Empress's words rang true. Weary of endless imperial succession struggles, the people no longer cared who became emperor. Nobles were the same. As long as their wealth and power remained untouched, they didn't mind who took the throne. Just look at the Notingen Duke's rebellion three years ago. With few nobles joining him, Notingen quickly lost his life pathetically to Duke Rihardt. Daniel Rihardt, grandson of a fierce and renowned Milabo mercenary captain. Daniel was undeniably of the Rihardt house—one of the Twelve Dukes and blood of the current emperor. Perhaps the people would remember 'Duke Daniel Rihardt,' maker of countless heroic tales, more than 'Emperor Leopold Bolshtak II.' The count saw this as clearly unfavorable. ***
"Sigh..."
Touching her forehead, where the fever lingered stubbornly, Frida let out a long sigh. She must have overdone it. Well, after seeing the vault full of gold coins, she'd been floating on clouds. Who wouldn't get excited seeing gold glittering before their eyes when there were so many things they wanted to do but couldn't? With every plan lined up in her mind, Frida had no reason to hesitate. First, she needed to retrieve the key. The Turkic merchants who arrived today promised to bring as many bulbs as she wanted before autumn if she paid upfront. Among them were the most expensive bulbs currently sold in Turk. Wealthy Turkic folk were going wild for them. This was a sure moneymaker. A profitable venture. So she had to pay upfront before the merchants left tomorrow, no matter what.
"Aigoo... ugh."
Removing the lukewarm damp cloth from her forehead, Frida lifted her heavy body. Lately, the duke rode out far and returned only at sunset. Asking Dominic casually, he seemed clueless about the key's whereabouts.
'He wouldn't carry it while riding, would he?'
Moving stealthily without a sound, Frida crept to the wall and slipped into her husband's room, muffling her footsteps. He probably never imagined she'd come in to steal the key, so it must be in a drawer somewhere. She started rummaging through the nightstand drawers by the bed. With the fever unrelieved and tension mounting, cold sweat trickled down her neck.
'Not here... dang, not here either.'
She searched every drawer in the room, but no key. Just in case, she reached for the high shelf on the bookcase. Then, the bookcase jolted suddenly, sucking her into the darkness.
"Wha-what? Ahhh...!"
