Translator: Nox

Chapter 49

Ten days ago, Daniel left without even a farewell. She had heard from Boild Baron that he had gone hunting. After telling Frida to return to her room, he had abruptly departed the castle. At first, she tried to understand, thinking some urgent matter had arisen. That must be why he hadn't had time for a proper goodbye. Just that morning, something different had clearly begun to sprout between them. She remembered how hot Daniel's hand had felt against her body. How her heart had raced so fast she could barely breathe. With excited anticipation, she waited for him to return at sunset. She believed he would come to her and explain that various circumstances had come up. Daniel was a polite man, so she never doubted for a moment that he would. But even after three days passed, then four, he did not return. Only then did she vaguely realize it. That her husband... had rejected her. And belatedly came the awareness that the reason was her suggestion to have a child.

'Fool, idiot.'

What man would want a child from a woman like me? It was only natural that Daniel had been startled and left.

'Still... no matter what, he could have at least said he'd be back.'

Plop. Thick teardrops fell onto Frida's blue dress. The startled Baroness hurriedly pulled out a handkerchief to wipe them away.

"What's wrong? Are you unwell somewhere? Shall I call the physician?"

Frida forced a smile and waved her hand.

"No. It's just... I unnecessarily..."

It's nothing. She had known from the start that she meant nothing to her husband. So why did her tears flow so sorrowfully? She knew it was a forced marriage by imperial decree. She had vowed not to expect anything, to quietly and diligently do her part. Since today was all she had, don't be discouraged, don't be downcast. Don't indulge in needless greed, just do what I can. Yet why was she grieving so over a single rejection? Even she found it absurd, but Frida's tears wouldn't stop. Instead, thicker drops fell ceaselessly onto her skirt hem.

"Th-this is strange. Why... I don't know why I'm like this. Sob, sob sob sob."

Frida finally hung her head and began to sob. The Baroness tightly embraced her, patting her back.

"It's okay. It's fine, so cry if you want to. People have times like this. Let it all out, cry your heart free."

Waaah. Afterward, Frida wept until her eyes were red and swollen. Countless memories flashed through her mind, each one filled with sorrow. Three years ago, on the grueling carriage journey over days to the duchy. Her head spun, throat parched, buttocks aching. The plea to rest a bit nearly escaped her lips, but she held it back, needing to bring the unconscious Daniel to the territory as soon as possible. Even upon arrival, everything from one to ten was inconvenient. The untrained servants were honest but knew nothing. The ducal castle was filthy, the food tasteless, the nights cold and dark. Still, Frida rose earliest each morning and moved more diligently than anyone in the castle. Until her husband awoke, she had to protect this land. Even if she faltered before he did, she had to prepare so those remaining could survive. It was just doing what was natural, so why did it suddenly feel so heartbreaking now? Unable to fathom it, the Baroness, soothing the ceaselessly sobbing Frida, brought a chair and sat before her. She clasped both of Frida's hands warmly and stroked them gently.

"Before marrying, I served as a companion to Chamberlain Count's wife. She was very strict and difficult, but she said confiding everything to me cleared her stuffy heart. From today, I'll be Duchess Rihardt's companion, so tell me."

The Baroness smiled warmly as she wiped the last of Frida's tears.

"Of course, I know the duchy folk don't yet trust us as a couple. You're worried your words to me might reach the Dowager Empress?"

"N-not exactly..."

"Yes. I know. Of course. Then, instead of me, how about trusting this child?"

The Baroness cradled her still-unshowing belly.

"I'm thirty-eight this year, so this child will likely be my only one. I swear on this precious child. I'll keep your secret."

"B-Baroness."

"Call me Matilda. You're the wife of the lord my husband serves, so it's fine."

Finally stemming her tears, Frida sniffled and stared at Matilda. So adorable she knew she shouldn't laugh, yet Matilda's lips curved up involuntarily.

"Still can't trust me?"

"Ah, no. No."

Frida blew her nose loudly into the handkerchief. With tears stopped, embarrassment set in, and she couldn't understand why she'd wept so pitifully. But Matilda's words—trust me, no, trust the child in my womb and confide—tempted her ears. Such matters would be better understood by the long-married Baroness Boild than by Muriel.

"I... Baroness."

"Matilda."

"Ah, Matilda. So, I... I think I had expectations without realizing."

"Expectations?"

Sniffling again, Frida slowly nodded.

"An ordinary married life, strolling the garden with my husband, conversing, then bearing and raising pretty children. Though I said no, I wanted that. My husband has no such intent, yet I alone got excited and greedy."

Before marrying, her mother had implored her repeatedly.

"Frida. Always put your health first. And if it's ever too hard, you can always come back to Mother."

She had wanted to return countless times, but doing so meant being treated as an invalid and confined until death. So she threw herself deeper into duchy affairs. Wanting to live meaningfully even one more day. In hindsight, it wasn't for others but for herself. Yet she had subtly craved praise.

"Taking care of the duchy all this time. Not ordered, but because I wanted to... I hoped the Duke would recognize my efforts, acknowledge me as a proper wife."

"Oh, madam. That's not greed—it's a natural wish."

Matilda gripped Frida's small hand tightly.

"I've heard roughly how much you've endured. The herb fields on the slopes—you made those? In the world, few mistresses work so diligently."

Even hearing from servants and seeing with her own eyes, she could scarcely believe it. Stefan, standing beside Matilda viewing the fields, had clicked his tongue in admiration.

"You're more than deserving of recognition, madam. His Grace should naturally be grateful to you."

Matilda vaguely knew what Frida wanted to say. Who was Duke Rihardt? Famous for wielding ruler-straight etiquette as an iron wall against women. Not only that. Having roamed battlefields all his life until now, how could he know a woman's heart? With such a bright, pretty, clever wife, he should be grateful and live accordingly. Daring to trouble her heart? Men were all half-wits lacking something. Matilda lifted Frida's cheeks, meticulously wiping every corner of tears.

"Just trust me, madam. I'll make His Grace kneel at your feet."

Just watch, Your Grace Duke Rihardt. Soon you'll be a puppy trailing after your wife. With a goal set, Matilda Agnes Boild's resolve blazed fiercely. *** In the deepened night of the campsite, the crackling of burning firewood echoed from various spots. Heinrich, standing by the fire, fixed a serious gaze on Daniel sharpening his sword by the tent ten paces away. Eyes locked on Daniel, he somehow snatched the passing Dominic and yanked him over.

"Dominic, I've been thinking."

Dominic strained to escape Heinrich's grip, grunting.

"Don't think. No one's glad you're here."

True to a warrior house, the noble young master was brutishly strong. After several futile struggles, Dominic went limp from exhaustion.

"That Daniel bastard definitely has issues with the Harkbon woman."

"Haa... No wonder the kingdom's like this with nobles so ignorant."

"What?"

"What Harkbon woman? Duchess Rihardt. Don't you know how to address another's wife?"

Heinrich, who had pinned Dominic down firmly, sat right beside him, staring piercingly. Less anger than thrilled discovery of something vastly amusing.

"Daniel too, you too. Subtly taking her side? This is getting fun."

"Wh-what's fun about it?"

Dominic recoiled in horror, shoulders back, slowly widening distance. Blue eyes gleaming red in firelight, frenzied—pure madman. A bit larger, and a fist would fit.

"I saw something that morning."

That morning? Dominic frowned, and Heinrich glanced at Daniel, lips curling.

"That Daniel bastard clearly got rejected by Harkbon. As you know, what does Daniel know of women? Clumsily approached without knowing and got turned down. Fled in shame."

Madman yes, but perceptive—too perceptive for normalcy. Best to avoid such entirely. Dominic swiftly backed away, rose, and dashed to Daniel before Heinrich could grab him. Daniel, sheathing the finished Koldar, stood and draped his cloak over his shoulders.

"Where are you going?"

"Wolf cries sound ominous."

"I just warned the sentries thoroughly. With night-camping veterans everywhere, what's to worry?"

Instead of stubbornly insisting on patrol, Daniel perched on a rock. Dominic sighed heavily and plopped beside him.

"Unless you plan to wipe out every beast in these mountains, let's head back to the castle already. Even the mad flower deer seems to sense why you're wandering like this."

Dominic tossed a log into the bonfire, flames roaring high. They danced wildly over Daniel's impassive face.

"Sounds like you know too. So only I don't?"

"Know? Of course I know."

Dominic grabbed another log and hurled it into the fire. The frenzied flames surging up and spreading mirrored his feelings watching Daniel these past days. Couldn't smack the frustrating fool, yet leaving him be stoked fury. Frustration boiled over into a shout.

"What exactly are you scared of?"

Daniel, gone adult overnight, was utterly exasperating.

"Why agonize over it for over ten days, tearing your hair out?"

No sulking or boasting, just rotting inside, lips sealed tight.

"You have to speak for us to know. Speak. Gonna burst my gut?"

Dowager Empress, that damned old fox. How much had she tormented the boy for this brazen one to be twenty-eight and still like this?

"Frida... wants my child."

Dominic, mid-reach for another log, froze. What the hell?

"Didn't the Duchess... can't have children?"

If not... this was serious.

"Funny, isn't it? One woman spies on me seeking a nonexistent child, another boldly wants to bear one."

Not funny, but worth grave consideration. Wait, so... Daniel did something? Dominic let out a hollow chuckle.

"For something you can ignore, agonizing this much—doesn't it mean you care for the Duchess? Bluntly, no telling if a child comes, so why fret ahead?"

Dominic poked the logs with a branch; black ash and red sparks flew. Amid flickering flames, snow-white Frida bloomed, smiling brightly at Daniel. Her face appearing even in midnight's depths dazzled his eyes, spun his head.

"Today's Frida confesses to today's Duke. That I like you."

Just recalling her voice deafened his ears like traversing a cave.

"If your heart's drawn, give it. What's so hard, making this fuss."

Dominic's voice buzzed in his muffled ears.

"Then..."

Daniel's eyes, fixed on the log pile, blazed red. Truly, if this continued...

"What if I really want her?"