Chapter 7
It was Frida herself who was startled by her own raised voice. She hastily pulled away the hand that had firmly pinned down Daniel's knee.
“Th-this... I mean, that wasn't directed at you, Your Grace.”
The white hand raised to her chest shook frantically as if pleading its innocence. Anyone could see it had been meant for him, yet she tried to play it off so clumsily... Overwhelmed with absurdity, Daniel simply stared at the small white hand flapping about, forgetting even to straighten his pressed knee. Just then, Captain Ricardo's booming shout carried over through the half-open bedroom window.
“You shit-for-brains idiots. Get your heads straight! Why are you all losing your minds from morning till now? Can't you even line up properly? You lot... Halt, all of you!”
Frida squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment, her pale face flushing deep red. Captain Ricardo's roars always came accompanied by a variety of creative threats, warnings, and vivid curses. It had been three years since Munheim Castle's mornings began with those shouts. They had ingrained themselves into her mind without effort. Far from just memorizing them, the unfamiliar words, metaphors, and phrases filled her head and occasionally slipped from her lips unbidden—things that should never escape a noble duchess's mouth.
“If the tutor from the esteemed Harkbon Count family saw, she'd foam at the mouth and collapse.”
Even Muriel, who used to correct her every time at first, now just let it slide. Having snapped at Daniel on impulse, Frida clasped her flapping hands together and stammered,
“Um... What I meant to say is... If you wish to recover quickly, Your Grace, you must follow the doctor's orders. Something like that.”
Honestly, Duke Rihardt's recovery was beyond what her common sense could comprehend. Just this morning was proof. She had no memory of lying in bed last night, yet she had woken up there. She couldn't have walked herself, so she must have been dragged or carried... And the only one who would do that was her husband, Duke Rihardt, who had been precariously asleep at the bed's edge. But could a man who had just awakened after three years really carry her to bed? Doubting it, she had checked herself.
“Did you perhaps carry me to bed last night, Your Grace?”
She had been genuinely shocked when Duke Rihardt nodded lightly. Did that even make sense? Was it possible? It was so astonishing that she grew suddenly afraid. What if he lost consciousness again and collapsed? Overcome with worry, Frida's eyes and voice turned resolute.
“The doctor said sudden increases in activity could strain you. So you must move slowly, very carefully. He warned that an abruptly awakened body might suffer paralysis. That's why it needs constant touch.”
Frida mimed massaging a leg in the air, wiggling her fingers slowly. For the past three years, she had touched and massaged Daniel's body without fail, day after day. She had poured in endless effort until her hands could properly knead those rock-hard calves that once showed no give. And it wasn't just the calves. His thighs, thicker than her waist. His forearms, bulging with sinew even unconscious. She had sweated buckets morning and night to keep his body from stiffening. And more—she had wiped him down everywhere and struggled to change his clothes. Dominic had helped the first few months, but once she got the knack, she did it alone. If there was one thing she could proudly say she did best in this castle, it was caring for Duke Rihardt. So what was the problem with her fulfilling her wifely duty? No need to shrink back. As Ricardo had said, shrinking meant automatic loss.
“The Duchess may be small, but she's got grit. Just don't cower first, and you can take anyone. Spread your shoulders wide. Chin up high. In a war of words or fists, whoever seizes the momentum early wins.”
Frida spread her shoulders wide and thrust her chin forward. Next was to glare fiercely with a 'come at me if you dare' look, but... well, this much had worked well enough so far. She couldn't glare at her husband of two days like that anyway. Instead of meeting Daniel's eyes, Frida fixed her gaze between his brows and spoke clearly.
“Unless you wish to call someone else, allow your wife to fulfill her duties as usual. I'll be careful not to inconvenience you.”
No need to feel intimidated, Frida. Be confident. Straightening her back made her feel properly duchess-like, and she was satisfied.
But... why wasn't the Duke saying anything? As no reply came despite waiting, Frida slyly lowered her chin. Deep reddish-brown eyes stared at her, showing no sign of being intimidated. She nearly flinched but quickly blinked to compose herself. The Duke's face was rather refined compared to his sturdy build. Yet it exuded a sharp wildness distinct from most Svergen men with their light hair and bright eyes. If that impassive expression softened into a boy's innocent smile, it would be even more striking. That morning, amid her shock upon waking, she had stared at her husband's face for a long time for that reason. The living, breathing Duke Rihardt, eyes open, was far... excessively more handsome than imagined.
“Are you uncomfortable being with me, Madam?”
His voice was impressive too. A moderate low tone, neither too thin nor too thick. Steady and grounded, with just the right weight, it lingered without scattering. Unaware of the emotion in those opaque eyes posing the calm question, Frida waved her hand brightly.
“Pardon? Oh, no. Not at all. I'm not uncomfortable in the least. Caring for you is only natural for me as your wife.”
“I...”
An unexpected chill emanated from Daniel's slowly parting lips.
“...am uncomfortable.”
The firm, cold voice matched his expressionless face perfectly. The soft smile scattered across Frida's pale cheeks froze solid in an instant. No cold wind blew, yet a deep chill made her fingertips suddenly numb. *** Physician Anton, entering the inner castle, doubted his eyes upon seeing a man striding down the central corridor.
“Y-Your Grace?”
Duke Rihardt, who had opened his eyes just yesterday afternoon, was walking at this hour when the morning sun had barely crested the mountains. Striding on two feet. Not with his former vigorous steps, but the key point was that both feet touched the ground. A man awakened after three years, managing it in a single day. Clutching his medicine bag, Anton rushed to Daniel's side.
“Your Grace, you mustn't overexert yourself. Please return to your room and lie down.”
“Bring Valzak.”
“Pardon?”
Several servants encountering their suddenly appeared lord forgot to bow and stared blankly at Daniel. Just like Anton, who had heard the command.
“V-Valzak? You don't mean to ride now?”
“Yes. Assuming my beloved horse hasn't been sold off yet.”
Ignoring the physician's startled reaction, Daniel halted and scanned the castle's interior. Remembering that valuables had all been sold. But since he had received this castle from the emperor without much attachment, changes wouldn't stand out. His gaze soon shifted to a dark figure entering through the gate.
“Don't worry. Valzak is aging gracefully in the stables.”
Dominic's arrival elicited no flicker in his impassive expression.
“Your Grace, but...”
The physician shot Dominic an imploring look as he approached, begging him to intervene. Dominic smirked at the overly affectionate gaze and nodded for the doctor to leave.
“And who would buy that temperamental beast unless they're suicidal?”
Whether meaning riding was absolutely forbidden, the physician backed away, shaking his head vigorously. So dramatic. Dominic clicked his tongue and followed Daniel out of the inner castle.
“That thing's practically a murder weapon except toward you, my lord. It gores and tramples people at the drop of a hat. And with that temper, it smashes stable doors daily. Truly, if not for the Duchess's pleas, I would've gotten rid of it ages ago.”
Dominic, following Daniel out, shouted to a nearby servant.
“Hey, you there! Tell Adel to send my lord's and my breakfast to the stream by the stables. Plenty of meat in the soup.”
Then, sticking close behind Daniel, who was a few steps ahead, he prattled on.
“I get you're frustrated. Your body's itching, right? But listen to the doctor. Three years isn't short. For now, focus solely on recovering your strength—no other thoughts.”
Daniel, who had turned toward the stables without reply, suddenly asked Dominic as they walked.
“Who's Adel?”
“Ah, Munheim Castle's head cook. When was it? About two years ago... She came with the loggers, but her cooking impressed the Duchess. Liked her so much she kept her in the castle right away.”
“Background check?”
“Of course. Lived in the east; lost her husband when the Hatsfeldt Duke rebelled against the imperial family. Wandered until drifting to this mountain backwater.”
Upon rounding the inner castle, Daniel halted before the suddenly open view. That had definitely been where the walls met the ridge, thick with green forest. Now, terraced fields of varying shades spread out wherever his eyes reached. A silent command to explain reached Dominic. He shrugged lightly and smirked.
“I told you, didn't I? What the Duchess did while you slept.”
“In detail.”
He had heard. To turn Altas's dense forests into farmland, she had sold every spare bed in the castle for massive logging. When he heard, he thought it mere a few trees felled. This was... an entire mountain stripped bare. In just the three years he slept? By that tiny woman? Reading disbelief in Daniel's eyes, Dominic stood beside him, hands behind his back, and kindly elaborated. With genuine, heartfelt admiration.
“What did I say? Our Duchess may be half your size, my lord, but her boldness...”
Dominic's hands, unwittingly unclasped, swept past Daniel's face, spreading wide to both sides.
“...is tremendous.”
