Chapter 32
The Lüsenford Castle, too shabby to truly be called a castle, was swept by biting cold winds today as always.
Winter brought blizzards that blanketed everything in snow and plunged the world into silence. The castle had grown even quieter after the recent unfortunate incident.
The newlywed Duchess had nearly died, leading to an execution, and the head maid who had ruled the castle was exiled.
The castle servants, suddenly deprived of their leader overnight, were anxious about what would become of them and turned to Butler Rolf Anderson Viscount for guidance.
But even he had no clever solutions. The Duke’s gaze was far from ordinary, and he had ordered utmost peace until the Duchess fully recovered.
In this hushed silence at winter’s end, where everyone held their breath, only the children cried without a care.
“Sasha, Sasha, stop crying now. Cut it out. Cut it out.”
The children of the castle servants had no one else to watch them, so they usually came to the castle with their mothers and played in the servants’ quarters.
“If you don’t stop, the dragon will come and eat you up! Stop it right now.”
From a young age, the children grew up steeped in fear of the harsh cold, the fearsome emperor, and the dragon that commanded an army of spirits and ghosts beyond the border, though it never crossed it. Those raising the children used that fear to great effect.
The mother’s face paled as she grabbed her wailing daughter, who seemed ready to bring the castle down, and ran blindly. The Duchess, the emperor’s niece and only just recovering, might be disturbed where His Highness resided—who knew what trouble that could bring.
His Highness the Duke had personally decreed that Her Highness the Duchess’s quarters must always remain peaceful. The nobles, except the head maid, had even ended up hanged on the execution scaffold, so the terrified mother clutched her child and fled as far from the castle’s heart as she could.
Waaah, the child’s wail echoed through the castle.
In a massive stone structure where no other sounds intruded, even the smallest noise reverberated loudly. The laundry worker’s face drained of color at the thought of disturbing Her Highness the Duchess’s peace and facing dire consequences.
“Stop it!”
At a loss, the laundry worker smacked her child’s bottom with hands chapped and frozen from cold water. Waaah, the child’s cries grew even louder.
“You have to be quiet in the castle! Stop it right now!”
The moment the terrified laundry worker, panic turning to fear, smacked her child again and tried to run farther away—
She unexpectedly spotted three knights and maids standing in the open inner courtyard. Among the maids stood a noble lady bundled tightly in lustrous fur.
There was only one ’noble lady’ in Lüsenford Castle right now.
“Oh, oh no!”
The laundry worker collapsed to her knees, still holding her child. The ignorant woman thought she was done for. Waaah, waaah—her foolish daughter wailed as if to shake the heavens, and she had never felt such a mix of resentment and pity.
“I’m sorry! The child is sick, I had no intention of making noise…!”
The refined and elegant Duchess, who looked utterly precious to anyone, silently regarded the laundry worker before turning to the accompanying doctor.
“The child is sick.”
The child’s flushed red face and furious cries didn’t look normal.
“Examine her.”
Darinka, who had already been observing the girl from afar, turned to the Duchess in surprise.
“Is that all right?”
“Aren’t you free right now?”
Not at all free, but the doctor, whom the Duchess had strongly urged to go for a walk since she needed to start moving a little, hurried toward the child while dutifully carrying out her duties.
“You need to walk a full lap around this inner courtyard, Your Highness. Don’t rush—slowly now.”
By the time Kaella nodded, Darinka was already kneeling before the child. Kaella, who was struggling to walk despite being swaddled so tightly by the maids that movement was hard, stared steadily at the trembling woman.
The newlywed Duchess might not know what the woman did, but Kaella immediately recognized her as a laundry worker from the castle’s laundry room.
The wet apron, hands swollen red from soap and cold water, and headscarf—all signs of a young woman who had taken on one of the harshest jobs: laundry.
Kaella, who had once been obsessed with knowing everything happening in Lüsenford Castle as its Duchess, now found it tiresome that she could instantly gauge most situations just by seeing the laundry worker.
Tiresome as it was, she asked a nearby knight. Pheon always assigned one of his most trusted knights to her when he was away. Today, it was Knight Wilberg guarding her, and he happened to be right there.
“Why is she like that? Isn’t this a place where even castle servants come and go?”
There was no need to turn so pale, keep her head bowed to the ground, and tremble like that. Kaella was more accustomed to laundry workers like her whispering from a safe distance while keeping away.
She knew the rumors swirling among the castle servants and beyond: that she was a witch sent by the emperor, a barren block of wood who couldn’t bear children, and all sorts of tales. Blessings were rare, but malicious gossip stuck in the ears all too easily.
“It seems to be because of His Highness the Duke’s orders.”
“What orders did he give?”
“He said that keeping the surroundings peaceful would aid Her Highness’s recovery, so everyone should remain as quiet as possible.”
Wasn’t that a bit excessive? Quiet in a castle bustling with over a thousand people coming and going. Kaella unwittingly tilted her head.
“I’m fine, though…?”
That was precisely the one statement no one else in the castle would ever agree with. Even if she had only just gotten up, her bloodless face and feeble steps made her look like a full-blown invalid to anyone.
Rumors even spread that the young Duchess had been startled by the northerners’ rough ways and forced to eat, so it was only natural for the Duke to handle her like fragile porcelain.
“Isn’t it normal for a sick child to cry? That’s fine.”
The laundry worker, already bowed low, prostrated herself fully.
“Thank you, Your Highness! Thank you!”
“How is the child’s condition?”
At a glance, the child looked even thinner than the servants’ children Kaella had seen in Ostein. Lüsenford, built on barren land, was desperately impoverished.
Pheon had shouldered every burden alone here, tirelessly working to make it livable.
Kaella had once tried to share that goal. She had worked to repair the castle’s poor facilities and secure funds to push construction further. Even though Pheon hadn’t wanted it, she had overstepped.
In the end, those efforts had piled up, greatly contributing to her confinement.
Her running around to help Pheon and make Lüsenford a proper duchy had become the noose binding her. Here, she just had to do nothing.
“She has a fever. If left like this, she’ll fall seriously ill, and it could spread among the castle children.”
At Darinka’s diagnosis, the laundry worker’s face turned ashen. If they were chased out for spreading sickness, where would she earn money? This hard-won laundry job—if she lost it, her family would starve starting today.
“If it spreads in the castle, it’ll spread outside too. Take her and treat her until she’s fully recovered. Check all the children to see if it’s already spreading among them.”
“Is that really okay?”
Darinka asked brightly. She had to monitor the Duchess’s condition per the Duke’s orders, but with nothing much to do at her side, she was itching for work.
“Do it. Wasting a capable doctor’s talents would be a shame.”
She had no intention of expanding the fortress, deepening the moat, or altering the castle’s infrastructure, but letting a doctor who usually cared for the poor do her job seemed fine. Yes, that much was just right.
Kaella gazed from afar at the little girl, who had cried herself out and was now wheezing in exhaustion. The child clung tightly to her mother.
The mother clutched her just as firmly. A precious joy, no doubt. Kaella turned away. It was something she’d never know in her lifetime.
*
Rolf Anderson, the butler of Lüsenford Castle, was currently exerting every effort to manage the castle in the head maid’s absence.
He proudly called himself a ‘viscount’ at every opportunity and believed he carried out his duties with great responsibility and loyalty.
To others, his pride overshadowed any sense of responsibility, but no one is truly objective about themselves.
Thus, he felt a grave crisis when the doctor suddenly demanded access to the storeroom.
“No, how precious are those things—why should I hand them over? Are they really necessary for treating Her Highness the Duchess?”
The woman—some apothecary or whatever—who had barged in at the head of Knight Wilberg struck Rolf Anderson Viscount as a poor choice.
In his view, women were dim-witted and overly emotional, unfit for the productive, vital work of treating someone. But since His Highness the Duke had chosen her, he had no choice but to tolerate it.
“Her Highness said to give them.”
Moreover, this female apothecary had a brazen glare and no meekness whatsoever. Blunt as any knight, she ended with just that curt statement.
The new Duchess had caused chaos over a single Tourberry she couldn’t digest, and now she demanded precious soaps and medicines—what for?
With mountains of work piling up, Rolf found it irritating and tedious to have to go to the storeroom himself amid all this.
With Knight Wilberg watching silently from behind, he reluctantly opened the storeroom door, but the apothecary’s words grated on him the whole time.
“Good heavens, leaving them piled up like this without proper care—they’ll all go to waste. I need to handle this quickly.”
What right did she have to grab precious medicines and soaps by the armful and then complain endlessly?
In this freezing place, you always had to hoard, save, and scrimp on everything! Rolf locked the storeroom door firmly and returned to his seat, but after a moment’s thought, he stood again.
As the butler overseeing Lüsenford Castle, he needed to know exactly how those supplies were being used.
Rolf had the castle firmly in his grip, and he quickly discovered that the wretched woman was using those precious medicines—on filthy brats!
“Tell us about the dragon!”
Rolf peeked through the door crack at the lowly servants’ children sniffling and whining at the apothecary.
“The dragon is born from ashes.”
“Not from red fire?”
“It burns and burns and burns again, reborn from the remaining ashes. Then it spews terrifying flames that incinerate everything. Now, let’s see here? Yes, looks like she has a fever.”
By the time their sparkling eyes turned to Darinka, Rolf had slipped away. The Duchess was so naive!
How precious were those supplies—meant for the wounded if the dragon attacked—and she was giving them to such lowly urchins! How to curb the spendthrift wastefulness of someone raised soft, ignorant of money’s value!
‘And yet His Highness the Duke remains blindly enchanted…!’
What had Head Maid Doris said when she was exiled? That the Duke they had carefully raised was bewitched by a woman.
A southern woman, the emperor’s niece, no less! Well, young men infatuated with women see nothing else.
The castle under the Duke’s rule was running strangely amiss, and keys were slipping from the butler’s grasp one by one. That wouldn’t do.
“That won’t do. It absolutely won’t.”
With pure concern for the Duke, the head butler of Lüsenford Castle picked up his pen. Nothing in Lüsenford could change.
Everything had to stay in its place—one shift, and it all crumbled. Could a castle guarding the north afford that? The head maid’s exile was enough. Now it was time to return to normal.
The pen began scrawling not in the Kline script, but in cryptic code. Rolf meticulously completed the cipher, sealed it in his usual way, and handed it to his ever-present confidant who roamed the castle.
“To the usual place.”
The confidant bowed silently and vanished, returning shortly with a reply. Rolf locked the door tight, opened the envelope—sealed exactly as he had—and read the cipher.
Already reported.
Aha, just as I thought. Rolf narrowed his brow slightly. That vile imperial dog. He had already reported the Duchess’s collapse to Kline.
“Quick, aren’t they… As expected.”
Crumb-scraping lackeys hoping for Kline’s scraps. Of course, Rolf had effectively reported the Duchess of Lüsenford’s collapse to the emperor too, but he had merely used them.
It was a guardian’s role to firmly guide a wayward youth back to the path.
In that sense, if the emperor heard and sent envoys as always to stir up Lüsenford, the Duke would snap out of it. He’d realize the Duchess was just a Kline woman sent by the emperor—not a true Lüsenford person.
Being the emperor’s niece was unavoidable, after all. It was frustrating only that the Duke hadn’t realized what everyone else knew.
‘Sometimes a rod is needed. Indeed.’
All this was for the Duke to grow up right. The emperor would wield the rod, and the butler would use it all to mold Lüsenford’s Duke into a proper one.
Rolf swelled with pride at his own wisdom and foresight, as always.
Outside the firmly sealed castle, spies already serving as the emperor’s eyes and ears moved swiftly. In the warm treatment room inside, lit by a fire, the dragon tales for the children continued.
“Dragons hoard gold. Even the hottest fire can’t defeat a dragon.”
From the distant Evil Dragon’s Domain, a sinister black shadow—or was it smoke?—rose ominously.
