Chapter 59
People have to be ruthless and diligent about everything. Yeah. That’s right. Beatrice, who was nodding along to those words right now, was actually a bit distant from a diligent daily life.
She loved meeting people, throwing parties, and being fawned over.
Rather than a regular routine, her days consisted of suffering hangovers, waking up late in the afternoon, barely sobering up with some food, lounging around while picking up the latest social gossip to regain her energy, then quickly dressing up and heading out to evening banquets or balls.
But the reason she became the flower of high society wasn’t just because she had a pretty face.
Honestly, even that idiot Kaella de Shasser had a face that was somewhat passable, but there weren’t any men who liked that wench, were there? The men who showed interest in her were honestly interested in the Ostein dukedom and fortune she would inherit, not Kaella herself.
“Brought a filthy amount. Flaunting your wealth?”
Seizing the moment while Kaella was distracted by a sudden raid, Beatrice had boldly sneaked into the duke’s bedroom. Right now, Kaella was dragging a string of maids around with her, thoroughly inspecting Lüsenford Castle.
She was hurrying the head chef to prepare food for the soldiers and conscripting doctors to send to Pueten Fortress, among many other tasks, so no one had time to come to the duke’s bedroom.
So even if Beatrice rummaged through Kaella’s things a bit now, there was no worry of getting caught.
“If you’re going to bring stuff like this, you should at least use it. Why aren’t you?”
As expected of the Ostein duke’s only daughter. They said the previous emperor had especially loved her father, an illegitimate son, and given him a massive fortune, and sure enough, diamonds and precious pearls were just rolling around everywhere.
Beatrice tried on a pearl necklace around her neck and slipped a bracelet woven with tiny diamonds onto her wrist once.
They were all jewels that Beatrice owned as well. But somehow, the ones Kaella had seemed larger, more delicate, and shinier.
It’s human nature to suddenly covet what belongs to others. Isn’t the thrill and joy only real when you steal it away?
“Kaella, you’ve finally become something, haven’t you.”
Spreading out a pouch filled with several slender iron tools like those a professional thief would use, Beatrice poked at every keyhole she could find. In the end, after searching through the bedroom, she opened the thing she had been most curious about.
A diamond ring, well-preserved, revealed itself, sparkling with brilliance even on this rainy day. Beatrice unhesitatingly took out the ring—larger than any she’d ever seen—and slipped it onto her own finger.
It was made to fit Kaella, so it didn’t quite match her finger, but it still suited her perfectly.
“This is exactly mine.”
Beatrice stretched out her hand to admire it, then narrowed her eyes sharply.
“This idiot Pheon should’ve at least brought something like this to me out of guilt before marrying.”
Wipe your mouth clean and let that foolish Kaella wear something like this on her finger? Already humiliated after presumptuously claiming the duchess’s bedroom first, Beatrice glared at the diamond with a murderous gaze.
Cough, cough. No residual coughs escaped. Where the hell had Kaella gotten this? From the Ostein duke? Or… no way, had Pheon given it to her?
“…This moron, why…”
Why did he have something even better than what he’d given her, after getting married?
Beatrice found it utterly displeasing. Once an idiot, always an idiot. Kaella de Shasser, of all people. That stupid wench kept subtly grating on her nerves at every turn.
Because she happened to be the emperor’s niece, Beatrice couldn’t crush her completely. She could bully Kaella plenty without crossing the line, but never quite as much as she wanted.
Honestly, once they were grown, Beatrice didn’t care either way. Kaella had gradually faded from her interests. She was boring to begin with, and always heading down to Ostein, so they only crossed paths in society a few months out of the year at most.
That’s why she thought Pheon marrying her actually suited them. Pheon, bewitched and unable to think straight because of her, and Kaella, pathetically and foolishly pining after such a Pheon—they were both idiots, weren’t they?
In the end, even if they married, they wouldn’t escape her grasp, and that thought satisfied her immensely.
Until Pheon cut her off cleanly, and Kaella treated her like a mistress.
She wouldn’t let that slide. With her eyes turning icy cold, Beatrice began rummaging through Kaella’s bedroom again, like a skilled thief. She had a real talent for stealing and taking what wasn’t hers.
*
The rain poured down in sheets so fierce that you couldn’t see an inch ahead. It was a welcome spring rain, but at the same time, something strange.
“It hasn’t rained like this in years. Unusual.”
People murmured while looking up at the sky. It was the worst weather for battle.
Of course, Lüsenford’s soldiers, experienced in fighting through even worse blizzards, wouldn’t retreat, but what weighed on Kaella’s mind was the scout’s report that the enemies seemed determined to invade.
‘I need to keep the final escape routes in mind.’
She had to consider how much worse the worst-case scenario could get.
Kaella always carried a small vial of poison with her, but the maids who had come from Ostein had to be sent away alive. So she was already planning for the maids to escape, along with places for the children, women, and elderly to take shelter.
No one knew it, but as a duchess with five years under her belt, Kaella knew quite a bit about Lüsenford Castle. Of course, she’d been so rejected by the locals that she didn’t know the details, and most of it was vague knowledge.
Of course, Pheon was such an exceptional commander that he didn’t need such worries. He’d survived even when the demons under the Evil Dragon Overlante went berserk, and he was a tactician so brilliant that the barbarians cursed his name.
But his life wasn’t tied to hers. Husbands and wives were one body, but they were the exception. So each had to find their own way to survive.
“Everyone, don’t worry too much. His Grace the Duke has never been defeated, and battles are everyday life in Lüsenford.”
Kaella soothed her deeply anxious maids and worked calmly.
In her position, just waiting for a chance to die, she had no choice but to do what needed doing even now, to die well. Moving a body with no motivation to move was surprisingly full of memories she wanted to discard.
That said, she wasn’t giving her all like she would have before accepting death.
Anyway, the battle had broken out, barbarians were invading from the north, and people were anxious. Preventing a massacre was just the right thing to do. That was the extent of it.
Before, she would have frantically run around seeking tasks, but now Kaella only did the bare minimum. Wars were for soldiers to handle anyway, and the duchess’s best role was preparing for contingencies.
‘Was it because I stepped up too much and got hated for it?’
The habitual speculation continued this time too. Why did they hate me? What was the reason? Why? Why?
No point wondering; she was the one hated, not the hater, so she’d never know the reason. Or she’d learned that some malice had no reason at all. That was enough. Time to stop ruminating.
“We need to prepare everything thoroughly.”
“Yes, Your Highness!”
The head maid rolled up her sleeves and bustled about busily. The wives of Lüsenford, having sent their husbands to the battlefield, didn’t grieve.
They had prepared even for battles reaching Lüsenford itself. They drew up water, prepared plenty of oil. And they didn’t forget to carefully hide the most important seeds.
The rain continued all day. It had been quite some time since everyone had grown anxious waiting for news from Pueten Fortress.
“A herald! A herald’s coming!”
A soldier standing in the rain, peering into the distance, shouted loudly. The firmly shut gates that Kaella had closed cracked open slightly, and a herald galloped in through the gap. He rode straight into Lüsenford Castle.
“Your Highness!”
Startled, Kaella jumped to her feet. While soldiers took the exhausted horse to water it and feed it, the herald sought out Kaella, who was guarding the castle alone.
“A report for Your Highness!”
Her chilled fingertips prickled. The bone-piercing chill of the spring rain felt shiveringly cold. Kaella faced the arriving herald. He knelt on one knee before her.
“His Grace the Duke commanded me to report to Your Highness! The barbarians gathered at Pueten aren’t just from Volga—they’re a coalition of Bainland, Volga, and Delgard. Their numbers are immense. Siege rams are pounding the Pueten gates. The vanguard is Halfdan, son of Bainland’s Kerar.”
Groans erupted here and there, and Knight Renar quickly explained to Kaella.
“He’s the son of Bainland’s ruler. A brute of great strength who’s killed countless Lüsenford folk, so if he’s leading the vanguard, it means they’ve come with full intent this time.”
“Casualties already exceed a hundred, and His Grace the Duke is fighting with sword in hand. He has ordered Eilak, Damar, Rus, and Seriol to march out.”
At the words that battle had begun, the local nobles who had rushed to Lüsenford Castle in full armor to stand by stepped forward when their names were called.
“We’ll ride for Pueten!”
“Damar marches out immediately!”
Lüsenford revered martial prowess and honored brave warriors. Even the elderly nobles didn’t hesitate at the duke’s call but rode out proudly to defend the land and protect their families.
“We’re doing our utmost to keep the fortress gates from breaking. His Grace said there will be no retreat to Lüsenford. The one governing Lüsenford Castle now is Your Highness, so he entrusts everything to you.”
Was this why she felt the chill? A herald dispatched from the fortress where battle raged seeking out the duchess was an ill omen. The news a duchess shouldn’t step forward for could only be the worst.
“Is His Grace unharmed?”
“His Grace is fine.”
“Anything else?”
“He said not to send Knight Renar. Protecting Your Highness is also of utmost importance, and even if Your Highness wishes to send Knight Renar, you absolutely must not. A castle lord must have a guarding knight, and he repeated that several times.”
Pheon must have slipped into Kaella’s mind even while fighting far away. Kaella, who had been about to send Knight Renar along too, nodded.
“Understood. Anything else?”
“He asked you to remember the words he said when he departed. It’s strange.”
What had Pheon said when he left?
You don’t need to worry.
I’ll return victorious.
I won’t be hurt. I don’t get hurt.
Those were the formal words. They were the commonplace phrases a husband said to his wife when marching out—ones Kaella had heard for the first time.
But the Lüsenford nobles around her, along with Knight Renar and the others, all looked like they assumed some intimate exchange between husband and wife had passed.
Our duke truly cherishes Her Highness, they thought, gazing at Kaella anew. Her maids looked nearly moved to tears.
‘No, it’s not like that…’
She couldn’t stop people from misunderstanding on their own, and this situation was a first, so Kaella glanced around in slight fluster. Then her eyes met those of Beatrice Lavalle, who had suddenly appeared nearby.
Beatrice, who hadn’t been seen all day, was staring fixedly at Kaella. Staring so intently it was almost worrisome, without blinking once. Or glaring would be more accurate.
Just then, Head Maid Fabiola Sirenster, standing nearby, subtly shifted to block Beatrice’s line of sight. The piercing gaze on Kaella was cut off.
“You’ve done well. Those who’ve received orders, set out at once. I wish you good fortune in battle.”
Clank, clank—the armor rattled noisily. The designated local nobles bid farewell to their wives and children, then mounted up into the rain.
As Kaella, officially recognized by Pheon as castle lord, saw them off, she suddenly recalled the day she first saw them.
Eat up! Come on, eat! If you slowly finish one plate bite by bite, before you know it, you’ll have devoured a whole basket of tourberries. Right?
Ah. Strangely, Eilak, Damar, Rus, and Seriol were all people who had added a word or two to her at the banquet where she had collapsed.
More precisely, they were the ones whose suspicions were slightly less, having subtly slipped away after forcing her to eat the tourberries, avoiding execution.
Lady Rus, turning away after seeing off her husband, and Lady Damar too. Well, they were among those privileged to sit at the duke’s table, so of course they were marching out now. Thinking about it, it wasn’t coincidence at all.
*
The assault from those who had come with full intent was fierce. Arrows rained down with the downpour, and they poured scalding oil, barely boiled in this cold weather.
Fire arrows followed, but the cold-mixed rain quickly doused the flames. Yet the rain also slicked the walls and turned the ground before the gates into treacherous mud, making even walking difficult.
“Don’t stop shooting!”
Shouts, drums, and trumpets pierced the rain’s roar as siege rams battered the gates.
Today, Lüsenford’s forces had burned two siege rams. But the enemies were bringing up more. They were determined to breach Pueten even if it took all night.
“Your Grace, an explosion from the left wall!”
Not just rams. If they could breach the walls and enter Lüsenford, they’d do anything. Pheon, who knew this already, kept his eyes forward and commanded.
“Deploy to the left wall as soon as reinforcements from Lüsenford arrive. They should be nearly here.”
“Yes!”
As the left wall cracked, barbarians swarmed through the breach, writhing in the pitch-black darkness. They were torn by swords and spears, crushed by axes, their blood mixing with rainwater, flesh buried in mud.
Pheon and everyone here had been soaked to their undergarments for ages. Night had fallen, so the cold would soon freeze everything solid.
In the chattering cold that made teeth clack, Pheon alone gripped his sword nonchalantly, gazing into the distance.
Halfdan, son of Kerar. The one who had delivered the hell Pheon had been waiting for. And in this hell, those who dared force dangerous food on the duchess would die miserably.
Ah. The sound of them arriving and being thrown straight into the left wall. The shouts of Bainlanders charging endlessly at the wall.
It was a delightful sound.