Previously
Jeanne is startled by Baldur in the library, leading to a surprisingly candid conversation about their shared hobby of reading and Jeanne's successful adaptation to Skadi. Baldur notes their similarities, including their eye color, and reveals he plans to stay at the mansion until next summer.
With the Duke himself insisting so firmly, I had little choice. Only after I nodded was I finally able to take my leave of the library.
‘Was he always… this talkative?’
The next morning, the moment breakfast was over, Madame Pauline arrived, saying she would show me to my new room.
I accompanied Madame Pauline to the newly assigned quarters. As promised, the room was vast. Unlike my previous room with its bare, exposed rafters, this ceiling and walls were properly finished with wallpaper, and the garden spread out in full view beyond a large window that let in generous daylight.
‘That room really was drafty. Even with a window this large, it feels so much warmer here.’
A carpet covered the entire floor, keeping the chill from seeping up. A wardrobe stood along one side, a round table and chairs occupied the center, and beside a fireplace far larger and more ornate than the one in my old room sat a bed and a sofa complete with a footstool. There was even a glass cabinet stocked with everything needed to brew tea—cups, a teapot, and teaspoons.
The most astonishing feature was the bathroom attached to the suite. Inside rested a spacious ceramic bathtub set upon claw feet. The tub I had used until now was a hip bath, where one could only sit hunched to soak the lower half of the body. The tub here, however, was large enough for two people to lie down with their legs stretched completely out.
‘Is it truly alright for them to give me such a room?’
Just as I was thinking it could easily serve as a guest room, Madame Pauline spoke.
Put that way, there was simply no refusing.
Before lunch that day, I relocated to the new room. Indeed, once I made the move, my former quarters slipped entirely from mind.
After lunch, Ana came by.
Ana told me she had wandered about for a while, not knowing I had changed rooms.
We sat on the bed that afternoon, playing a two-player card game until dinner. They were cards I had drawn and crafted by hand earlier to teach her the game.
Lost in the game, the twilight slipped in before we knew it.
Ana's words reminded me that I already had dinner scheduled for tonight. And that during that meal, I was supposed to name what I desired.
I told Ana that I had been invited to dine with His Grace tonight.
At just those words, Ana shrank back slightly and meekly retreated to her own room.
‘Now, what should I ask for?’
Left alone, I pondered the question while pulling dresses from my still half-unpacked trunk.
‘What do I request?’
As I deliberated with several beautiful dresses laid out before me, a sudden flash crossed my mind, revealing what I had desperately wanted all along. Along with the realization that only one person could ever grant it: the Duke.
The gown I chose that evening was a cream silk dress. Entering the dining hall and taking my seat, I noticed him staring intently at me, yet the moment my eyes met his, he snapped his head away so abruptly it was almost embarrassing.
‘Is something wrong, perhaps?’
I self-consciously touched my cheek and smoothed down the folds of my dress.
“Mm.”
Before long, the meal began. When the appetizer arrived, I expressed my gratitude, mentioning how much I liked the new room. He offered a slight nod and gestured toward the aperitif before me.
Already thirsty, I tossed back the clear liquor in the glass without a second thought. An aperitif is usually light and mild. But the instant that water-clear spirit hit my throat, I came perilously close to spitting it straight back out; unwilling to make an unseemly scene, I gritted my teeth and forced it down in a hard swallow.
‘…Good heavens!’
My mouth scorched, and it felt as though a fire had been lit in my gut. The liquor was so brutally strong that tears sprang to my eyes. I lifted the glass and glared at its contents.
‘Was this… poured properly?’
I had heard that people in colder climes brew harsher spirits, but during past formal dinners, the drink had never been this lethal. Wondering if something had gone amiss, I licked at the rim in tiny sips and stole a glance at him. He was tossing back his glass as though it were plain water.
‘I see, so this is normal here?’
Touching the glass to my lips in mere drops, I took great care not to drink any more. Yet that single draft had already set my mouth and insides ablaze. Soon, a searing heat washed through my entire body. The dining hall felt stifling, and my head began to spin. I pressed the back of my hand to my cheek, trying to cool it down.
‘I need to pull myself together.’
Yet that single swallow had evidently sparked a blaze inside me; my eyes burned, and my pupils dilated wide.
The liquor was terrifyingly potent that evening. Under its influence, fear simply melted away.
the Duke asked.
The Duke shrugged.
His words brought an obvious realization crashing down on me.
‘Madame Pauline’s mistress—of course!’
The lady Madame Pauline had served was his mother. Why had I never connected two such obvious facts until now? I smoothed down an imaginary wrinkle on the skirt, feeling rather sheepish.
Only a tiny fragment, a mere corner of history.
How did the late king exert his influence after granting a fief to the chieftain of a barbarian tribe? Even as a vassal, an outsider sharing common ancestral blood might easily collude behind the crown's back to swallow the realm, rather than serve as a shield against the barbarians who pushed south every summer.
There was a very effective method commonly used in such circumstances: marriage.
The previous kings had wed the heads of House Skadi to their own daughters, and when daughters were not an option, nieces were used instead. As far as I knew, the former Duke's wife was the third daughter among the late king's six princesses. That meant His Majesty the King and the Duke were first cousins.
“…”
What did it feel like to wear this dress? The answer came to mind at once, but I hesitated for a moment over whether I ought to speak it.
Under ordinary circumstances, I would have showered it with praise, saying how exquisite it was, and how it did not look the slightest bit out of fashion despite an entire generation having passed. But the liquor lent me courage. The courage to speak the truth.
The Duke gave another shrug, as though he had known my answer all along.
“As one can tell from the garment, Mother could never let go of her homeland. Though she wed my father and bore him two sons, she never adjusted to Skadi until the day she died. It was not even a foreign land, but within the same kingdom. My mother spent her entire life yearning for Franc and the court. And she diligently ordered and wore whatever dresses were in fashion there. To keep pace with the trends of a place she could never return to. Yet here, one cannot dress like that even in midsummer. Because of those clothes, Mother eventually fell ill. It was a lung ailment, though perhaps it was homesickness all along.”
“…”
He broke off there.