Chapter 36
She'd found it strange. Dominic Molly, who boasted he knew everything about the Duke from birth to now despite being just two years older, had acted oblivious from the start when hearing about the secret vault.
"A secret vault? First I've heard of it. My goodness, what would have happened if His Grace hadn't awakened?"
Still, she'd dismissed it as unlikely because no one knew better than Dominic how Frida had survived in this duchy. He'd seen with his own eyes the lady of the house eating in the kitchen with common servants and heading to the fields. No normal person could stay silent for three years watching her frail body—bedridden for two days after one of overexertion—strain to its limits.
"Ha!"
Muriel, clutching Dominic's collar, let out a hollow laugh.
"I'd forgotten Dominic Molly isn't like ordinary people. To think I'd underestimate the 'cold-hearted' one who'll make any sacrifice for his lord."
His nickname was famous not just among wandering mercenaries but even knights. Dominic Molly, the man who existed solely for Daniel Rihardt. The one said to discard dozens or hundreds of lives without blinking for his lord. There was good reason Duke Rihardt marched to war with mercenaries instead of formal knights amid nobles' mockery. Captain Molly's Mercenary Corps was renowned not only for superior skill but unbreakable principles—'Daniel Rihardt first.' To the mercenaries, Duke Rihardt came before even Captain Ricardo Molly or his son Dominic. Rumors even swirled of massive life bounties for those sacrificing for Daniel—enough for survivors' families to live like nobles. No one boasted openly lest the Duke himself snap, but it was an open secret in their world. And that principle held true to this day. Applicants never ceased despite harsher work than any other corps. Countless nobles had lured them with fortunes to no avail.
'Ho hoarding gold in secret? Ha!'
Now she understood why a mere mercenary corps held such pride.
"Why didn't I notice? Mercenaries who trade lives for gold stuck around for a reason."
Dominic smirked, yielding his collar to Muriel without resistance.
"Everything in the world has its reasons. Just like why House Rosivalt endures for centuries in this chaotic Svergen Empire. Right, Lady Octopus?"
Octopus. Mocking her ancient knight house that outwardly aped tradition while desperately clinging to connections everywhere. Rightly infuriating, yet Muriel loosened her grip instead. As her hold slackened, Dominic swatted her hand away. Auu, auuuu... A wolf that had just entered the castle howled mournfully, leaving no time for more bickering.
"I'd love more venting, but urgent business calls."
A dry sneer curled Muriel's lips.
"Wolf's howling, so time for Dominic Molly to go. Tell it when you meet: practice more. That howl's still awkward after all this time. The owl's improving daily, though."
Dominic knew too. Among the spies he'd hidden around the duchy, the wolf was the worst. Not getting caught by Rosivalt would've been weirder.
'Damn fool. If no talent, at least work harder.'
Shrugging sheepishly, Dominic nodded obediently.
"I'll pass the advice. Oh, and by now His Grace has likely found the Duchess, so head in without worry. Our lord's unmatched at tracking targets."
"How can I trust you?"
"Don't then. Heard he showed the Duchess the secret passage..."
"Secret passage?"
No wonder Duke Rihardt slipped in and out silently. Dominic, you bastard—knew and kept quiet?
"Where is it?"
Muriel glared, vowing someday to give him a proper thrashing.
"Why's it secret? Because it's secret. I don't know. Even His Grace didn't tell me. Anyway, I'm off."
Passing Muriel, Dominic paused and turned.
"Oh, and if you search the lady's room and find something, don't even think of going there. Enter wrong and you'll never escape. Heed my words—no joke."
"You con artist. You don't know where?"
Dominic smacked his forehead at her bulging eyes.
"Right, I said that. Damn my head."
Colorful curses flew after Dominic vanishing into the dark. *** Her handsome husband from the front looked just as handsome tilted. He'd come searching despite leaving without a backward glance.
"You found me well."
Uttering a calm reproach, Frida peeled her cheek from Daniel's palm.
"Aiguu."
A groan escaped. Rubbing her stiff neck and shoulders, Frida eyed the man illuminated by the dying embers' final flicker. Human hearts were so sly. She'd thought him utterly loathsome, yet seeing him drenched in sweat melted her resentment like snow. He'd run hard searching; his breaths still came ragged, unrested. Wondering how much time had passed, Frida craned her neck. The sky beyond the window was pitch black.
"Aigoo..."
Gazing at stars densely studding the heavens, Frida sighed deeply and extended a hand to Daniel.
"Help me up."
Utterly unaware of the uproar she'd caused, her attitude was nonchalant. Stunned, Daniel offered his arm anyway, reminding her.
"The castle folk searched for you all evening."
"Wouldn't they? I'm quite the presence in Munheim Castle."
She'd have been deeply offended if they hadn't. Dusting her wrinkled skirt, Frida approached the fireplace and poked the fading embers with the tongs. Lucky she'd stockpiled logs last winter—otherwise trapped in darkness. She'd pondered burning books after the last log. Grateful he'd come timely, she might forgive him leaving alone by day. Carefully shoving one of the few remaining logs inside, Frida set the tongs down and dusted her hands.
"Thought it'd be Muriel if anyone. Didn't expect Your Grace."
"Does Lady Rosivalt know of this place?"
She'd seemed clueless where her charge vanished. Earlier, scanning the passage, he'd run into her blocking Marian Hall's corridor, grilling him relentlessly. Frowning at the persistent knight, Daniel asked.
"No way."
Bending to retrieve a book, Frida replied. Dropped asleep, it lay splayed on the floor. Picking it up, she checked the open page against the shelf before closing and setting it neatly aside. The library air—thick with aged parchment's leather and musty mold—choked her. Well over a month without airing. After her dowry ran dry post-marriage, she'd sorted the castle piecemeal. Brabant Hall first: chandeliers from the ballroom, past Munheim Dukes' portraits, corridor armor lines, meaningless scrap heaps. Anything valuable sold.
"Untouched two years plus—no one remembers what's here, not Muriel or Dominic."
Sole remnant in Brabant Hall: this library. Two stories high with religious ceiling mural and ornate stained-glass side windows—it captivated Frida at first sight. Now dust-layered, far from its former glory. She vividly recalled that first day: mesmerized till sunset by light filtering through, forming beautiful shapes and vivid colors. Even sublime. That memory stayed her hand despite knowing its worth. Gazing at dust-shrouded windows indistinguishable day or night, Frida sighed deeply.
"Come here alone to clear my head sometimes, sneaking past Muriel. Or like today, seeking something."
Original plan: scour for herbology books, then sneak via corridors to Marian Hall. Long trek, many heavy doors—but far less visible than open paths.
"Meant to grab the book and go..."
Found a perfect one mid-search, lost track of time. Vision blurring, realized too late. Sky already blood-red.
"Sun setting midway. Even lucky to exit Brabant Hall timely, must pass Skadi Hall. No lights there yet nights."
It'd get wall lamps only post-Boild Baron's arrival in three days. Couldn't waste a drop of oil—must economize. With castle folk growing, expenses mounting.
"So stayed safely. Hearth keeps it lit; spring, won't freeze blanketless. Lucky if Muriel comes; otherwise, unavoidable. Didn't expect Your Grace searching."
Still, how'd he find? Dominic said he'd never glance here.
"Didn't know Your Grace knew of the library."
For some reason, it irked Daniel. Honestly, from 'didn't expect you'd search' onward. Or 'traitor' first?
"Comatose, not amnesiac. Still remember castle layout."
"Not that..."
Frida trailed off at his curt reply, hastily excusing.
"Dominic said Your Grace ignores books—no interest in libraries."
"Who?"
"Dominic."
That damn bastard. Making me seem illiterate. Grinding teeth behind sealed lips, Daniel suddenly turned aside. Before Frida could stop, he hurled all remaining logs by the hearth into the flames.
"Your Grace, that's all we had left..."
"Let's sit."
Spreading his jacket before the hearth, Daniel plopped down and nodded her over. Stark contrast to his usual excessive courtesy. Hesitant, Frida knelt primly atop it. Staring at crackling logs, Daniel spoke eyes fixed there.
"Sorry for leaving you alone. And causing this."
He'd realized when she called him traitor. She'd trusted him deeply enough to feel betrayed. Enough to ask his aid deceiving Rosivalt, who she firmly believed would save her anytime. However furious, should've taken her to her bedroom first, then sought Ricardo. He'd have obliged that much. Just because he's her husband. Flames rose higher. Arm on folded right knee, Daniel's gaze deepened. Better he tell directly than vague hearsay. Resolved, Daniel slowly spoke.
"Back then, that incident cost many lives."
