“Is this the greatest spoil of war yet? It’s the famous Edele Lancaster.”
The Emperor’s voice, slightly slurred with drink, echoed through the banquet hall.
Though she felt humiliated being displayed like a commodity before the nobles who had bowed to her until just recently, Edele poured all her strength into maintaining her usual composed and upright posture.
She felt as though she might tremble all over and her shoulders might hunch if she loosened the tight knot of tension even slightly.
‘I must not break, not until the very end!’
As she repeated the resolve to herself, she unconsciously tightened her grip, her fingernails digging into the flesh of her palm. Though she felt the pain, she did not release her grip. For now, she had to cling to even such a pain to maintain her clear mind.
Edele found herself in this situation because her husband, Duke Lancaster, had been utterly defeated by the Emperor after pursuing a rebellion, or rather, independence.
Though she had married into the dukedom as a second wife to a man older than her father, and had only lived as the Duchess for one year and eight months, and Duke Lancaster had planned for independence—none of it had been with her consent.
‘No matter what, I am the Duchess of Lancaster. If I act dignified until the end, at least the end will be less tragic.’
The nobles, unaware of her inner turmoil, chattered amongst themselves.
“I suppose it’s fitting for a Duchess. She remains composed even in this situation.”
“Indeed. She’s much better than Duke Lancaster’s daughters, who were sobbing pitifully.”
“Such a shame, a waste of a person. Tsk, tsk.”
However, Edele did not welcome such praise.
Did the people occupying the front row, who were dividing people like spoils of war, truly feel pity?
Not at all. Her efforts to endure even her instinctive fear and appear dignified were merely becoming entertainment for them.
‘I never imagined I’d receive so much attention until the very last moment… What a glamorous life.’
At the thought, Edele’s lips trembled, as if she might burst into laughter or tears, and she clenched her teeth tightly.
To distract herself from wallowing in self-pity, she slowly rolled her eyes, surveying every nook and cranny of the banquet hall.
There were many familiar faces. Some quickly averted their gaze when their eyes met hers.
She knew this too. Among those who met her gaze, there were certainly those who sympathized with her plight. And she also knew that none of them would voice their thoughts.
‘It can’t be helped, I suppose. Why would anyone risk incurring disaster by siding with the wife of a traitor?’
She did not resent them. In the opposite situation, she would likely have kept her mouth shut as well.
The people Edele resented were her father, who had gifted her to the old Duke like a prize out of greed for power; the Duke, who had meticulously hidden his plans for rebellion even after their marriage; the Duke’s family, who had belittled and mocked her; and herself, for lacking the courage to escape even in the face of all that injustice.
‘The responsibilities and duties of nobility, honor and pride… What were those things that made me foolishly endure?’
She tightened her jaw, which was already clenched, and her molars ached as if they would crumble. Of course, no one noticed her predicament.
Emperor Demarcus Tuberine, after allowing everyone’s gaze to linger on Edele, slowly opened his mouth.
“Who shall I give this to?”
As he turned his head towards the knights who had returned with great achievements from the Duchy of Lancaster, a far more enthusiastic response erupted than when the Duke’s daughters had been presented as spoils of war.
“I dare to beg of you, Your Majesty!”
“Your Majesty! I must have killed over fifty enemy soldiers!”
“Don’t listen to that liar! Rather, pity me, a widower, Your Majesty!”
“How about we decide through a duel!”
Jokes and pleas poured in.
Should she consider this an honor or an insult?
“It seems they’ve all thrown their dignity to the wind.”
“It’s understandable. Wasn’t Edele Lancaster praised as a perfect Duchess even at her young age?”
“What’s the point? She’s fallen to slavery anyway.”
“That’s even better! Is there any reason to refuse such a slave?”
Middle-aged male nobles chuckled and whispered amongst themselves. They all likely had the same thought.
Watching the knights’ squabble as if it were entertainment, Demarcus suddenly seemed to remember something and turned his head to the guards beside him.
“Ah! The chief contributor was here, I almost forgot!”
His gaze fell upon the commander-in-chief of this war, a knight renowned for his prowess, standing expressionlessly.
“Laslo.”
“…Yes, Your Majesty.”
His slightly delayed response to the Emperor’s summons hung precariously between rudeness and solemnity.
However, Demarcus did not seem to mind at all. In fact, he quite liked that unfeeling voice, devoid of any hidden agenda.
“Do you need a woman?”
At the question, which explicitly revealed Edele’s ‘use,’ nobles who had had a good relationship with her gasped and frowned.
It was understandable, after all.
The knights who had just been clamoring to be chosen were, at least, of noble birth. But Laslo Krissus was different.
‘Didn’t they say he was a mercenary? Though, what does that matter.’
To Edele, Laslo was no different from any other knight, but to the other nobles, it was a significant matter. Laslo was a representative of the new nobles aligned with the Emperor, threatening the old aristocracy.
Laslo Krissus, twenty-seven years old this year, had gained the reputation of ‘King of Mercenaries’ by controlling , the largest mercenary guild in the empire, and had been made a Count for his immense military achievements in the conquest war.
Since his military achievements were undeniable, the nobles chose his mercenary background as a point of criticism.
‘These lowly butchers who would do anything for money.’
‘These guys would have become criminals if they hadn’t worked as mercenaries.’
That was how the nobles viewed mercenaries.
“Why would His Imperial Majesty bestow the best spoil of war upon that man?”
“Exactly. Edele Lancaster has truly fallen into ruin for making just one wrong marriage.”
“Speaking of which, the mercenary has risen in the world. Not content with a Count’s title, he will now have a Duchess as a bed slave.”
Everyone was convinced that Laslo Krissus would reveal some sinister intention.
However, his reaction was unexpectedly lukewarm.
“Well… we are short on maids, but…”
“Puhaha! Euehehehe!”
Laslo’s response sent Demarcus into fits of laughter.
“Maids? You call her a maid? Are you saying you’ll use the former Duchess as a maid?”
“She’s of little other use.”
“Ahahaha!”
Demarcus seemed pleased with Laslo’s answer and laughed for a long time before nodding.
“Alright, alright! Edele Lancaster, who is suffering from a shortage of maids, shall be bestowed upon Count Laslo Krissus!”
That was how Edele’s path to ruin was decided.
To the side of a man from a mercenary background, known for being rough and cruel.
As the guards led her away, the days leading up to this moment flashed through her mind.
***
“Duke Lancaster has agreed to take you as his second wife. The wedding is in four months, so begin preparations posthaste.”
Three years ago, in early summer. On a bright, flower-filled day, a bolt of lightning struck Edele’s life.
“Father! No, I don’t want to! Please reconsider!”
That day, Edele, for the first time in her life, defied her father’s orders and knelt, begging.
The Duchess of Lancaster, who was two years older than her father, as her second wife? It was only natural that she couldn’t accept it.
However, Edele’s father, Count Dustin Canyon, became furious and berated her.
“Instead of actively coming forward for the sake of our family, what is this disgrace! Do you even know what humiliation I endured to secure this position!”
Edele’s position was of no concern to him. All that mattered was the benefit he and his family would gain.
Originally, a daughter raised to marry into a high-ranking family, her refusal of that marriage only provoked his anger.
Even though she wept for three days without eating or drinking, Dustin did not cancel the wedding; instead, he summoned all sorts of merchants to the mansion, citing the tight preparation period.
The Countess, who always doted on her sons, also despaired.
She showed her daughter no sympathy at all.
“Edel! Stop being so stubborn. Where else are you going to find a match like this?”
“Still, this isn’t right, Mother! Duke Lancaster is older than Father, so how can I…!”
“Then which of the ‘Four Great Families’ do you think would be best? Choose.”
Her tone felt almost mocking.