The North was a land conquered by the Empire hundreds of years ago. Although indigenous people and those who had drifted in now coexisted, the relationship with the Emperor remained perpetually strained; while he allowed migration into this region, he strictly forbade anyone from moving out.
The people of the North maintained that the Emperor, who had tasked them with holding back the evil dragon Gwasalante, was merely provoking the beast further. They were a prideful people who despised the Emperor for dumping young Peon here without providing adequate support.
And, being a closed-off society, they were fiercely unwelcoming to outsiders, while simultaneously harboring a deep-seated persecution complex that the central government looked down upon them. The target of that complex was the young Grand Duchess, who had been stripped of her noble titles and cast out.
Peon at least possessed the pride of having been raised by them. Having arrived as a young child, he had literally rolled in the dirt alongside the Northern soldiers and grown up learning the traditions of the North. He was both a proud son of the North and someone capable of advancing into the center.
But the Grand Duchess who had come to Lyussenford after turning twenty was not. To them, she was merely a sophisticated central noble who looked down upon them.
“You don’t have to accept greetings like that. Don’t pay any mind to them.”
Peon’s face, as he spoke clearly and firmly to the new Grand Duchess, had already hardened. Those damn stubborn, closed-minded fools. He swallowed the curses hovering on the tip of his tongue and slowed his pace, worried that the Grand Duchess, trailing behind in her heavy cloak, might be struggling. With a crowd of Lyussenford castle staff lined up behind them, he intentionally used formal honorifics with Kaella.
After regressing, there were so many things he could see for the first time. Peon mercilessly judged himself a hopeless idiot, one who had to die properly once to finally come to his senses. And the people of Lyussenford were even worse.
They were starting a battle of nerves against a Grand Duchess seven years younger than the Grand Duke, leaving her standing out in the cold? Even if, before his regression, she had been a Grand Duchess without a background after her maiden family vanished, she was now the only daughter of the wealthy Duke Ostain and the next Duchess of Ostain!
‘Whether her background is flashy or shabby, it doesn’t matter. They just hate the Grand Duchess. I get it.’
He understood. He understood all too well what they were thinking. Peon was now sick to his stomach, utterly fed up. It hadn’t been easy to stroke the egos of these stubborn people and cajole them into becoming an elite army. He knew that sometimes they thought of him not as the Empress’s son, but as a son of the North, a child they had raised themselves. Yet he had endured and endured. What other choice did he have besides enduring?
But the Grand Duchess had been enduring, too. Had he not known that? He had. There was no way he could have not known. Yet, because he remained silent, stood by, and acted with indifference, he was a sinner. There was no room for extenuating circumstances.
“No, it is a duty, so I must do it.”
However, watching Kaella respond with such docility, Peon rummaged through his memories of how she was “at the beginning.” Back before the regression, when she first arrived here, what was she like? He remembered her eyes sparkling with eagerness, determined to do her best at everything. But this was the first time he had seen her mutter with such emotionless indifference.
“I must accept the greetings, Your Highness. If traditions and etiquette are broken because of me, you will be the one criticized.”
“For being blinded by a woman?”
Peon chuckled, and Kaella flinched.
“What does it matter if I am criticized? It is of no concern to me.”
It sounded as if she had heard that quite enough because of Beatrice, so Kaella lowered her gaze. Inside the dark and chilly Lyussenford castle, the stone path that clicked with every step, the white frost forming on the specially crafted windows, and the sun that set too early—everything was familiar and depressingly wearying.
But she had to do it. Kaella, who was seeking a way to die while minimizing the damage to her father, knew well that she had to do what was required. Only then could she be honorable even in death. It was truly exhausting to have to worry about life after death, too. Couldn’t she just die? But the house of Ostain rested on her shoulders. She couldn’t.
“Even so. I must greet them.”
If the Grand Duchess insisted, the Grand Duke would not stop her. However, if she had to do it, she would do so while seated in the seat of the Grand Duchess in the audience chamber of Lyussenford Castle, receiving the greetings of those she would command. She received them wrapped tightly in his cloak, which the Grand Duke had draped over her himself, telling her to keep it on because it was cold. Beside her, the Grand Duke, who had grumbled about being tired from the journey, watched the people with piercing eyes.
“We sincerely congratulate you both on your marriage. Welcome to the North.”
The fireplace in the audience chamber was lit, and the lights shone brightly. The wealthy Lady Ostain, wearing the Empress’s large ring, received the bows of the Northern nobles without interest. She offered only a formal smile; she did not look radiant like Beatrice. That was right—Kaella had a powerful point of comparison. It was Beatrice, who had briefly come to Lyussenford when even the building materials of Monde castle had to be sold off.
“She’s plainer than Lady Lavalle.”
Whispers that Kaella was not as pretty as Beatrice reached her ears immediately. A woman’s beauty was always a subject for evaluation.
“She doesn’t even smile much.”
That was a dig, implying that by the look on her face, she must hate having come to Lyussenford.
“They say she’s Lady Ostain. With all that gold, I suppose nothing else catches her eye?”
In the end, because her vast wealth and her status as the Emperor’s niece were eyesores, the sour whispering crept toward Kaella like a thick, murky, poisonous fog.
“It seems the Grand Duke is already doting on the Grand Duchess?”
“If the Ostains were funding our military, I would do the same.”
Peon checked the faces of those who had come to ‘spectate’ the Grand Duchess and were whispering far in the back, one by one. When should he cut those throats? When should he pluck those bastards out of this place? He could see the ones who badmouthed the Emperor more than anyone else while secretly taking Krain’s money, the ones who had sold out Lyussenford to debut their children in the central social scene, the spies the Emperor had planted from the start, and the ones who had raised their voices about the need to fight only to run away the moment war broke out.
He had to weed them all out. Peon would sharpen his sword against the cowardly and irresponsible lot who were all talk but never took responsibility. If he cut off their heads and offered them to Kaella, would his sins be even slightly lightened?
As if that were possible. Peon just needed to keep his companion safe and sound before sending her back to Ostain. He had to send her away before the storm blew in. He had to promise an eternal farewell.
Even if just thinking about it was agonizing.
･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ･
Perhaps it was only for those who were healthy and full of energy that seeing faces one loathed stirred up feelings of anger or vengeance.
Returning to Lyussenford castle, into which she had poured every effort, and seeing those old faces again, Kaella just felt terribly tired. She was tired because she knew all too well that no matter how much one tried, no matter how much one erupted in anger or poured out one’s heart, some things simply could not be changed. All kinds of disregard, insults, scornful glares, and pouring humiliations would force even a proud king to his knees. What could a Grand Duchess without a background have done?
“Your Highness, this is the list of dishes for this evening’s celebratory banquet. Could you please confirm it?”
In the midst of that, the head maid who had insisted on following her grabbed her. ‘Confirm.’ The Grand Duchess had no authority over this menu. She was merely meant to look and acknowledge it. It seemed that various characteristic and traditional dishes of the Northern region would be served at today’s banquet. Kaella smiled bitterly, scanned the list, and spoke.
“I get sick if I eat Tur Berry, so I cannot eat this dish called Perenko.”
At those words, the head maid, who had been bowing politely, snapped her head up.
“But Your Highness, this is a traditional guest-welcoming dish of Lyussenford and a staple meal. You must eat it.”
Was she in her fifties? Kaella, trying to estimate the age of the head maid—which she could no longer remember—smiled gently.
“I am aware, but did I not say it is detrimental to my health?”
“Perhaps it is because you have not eaten it often? If you eat it more, you will build up an immunity. One must try everything.”
Kaella gazed silently at Doris Windgood, the head maid who had always tried to lecture the young Grand Duchess. She was of Northern noble descent and one of the many who claimed to have raised Peon herself. She overflowed with pride for Lyussenford and believed it was her duty to instill the traditions of Lyussenford into the Grand Duchess.
“……I will inform the chef for now.”
There could be no head maid who insisted against the Grand Duchess’s will. Kaella had neither the desire to answer nor the strength, so she merely looked at the maid, and the head maid, startled, retreated. However, the head maid had only said she would ‘inform’ them; she would not change the menu. She was, after all, a woman of great stubbornness.
‘Not bad.’
Tonight, with all the Northern nobles gathered to celebrate the Grand Duke’s marriage, it was not bad at all.
After dismissing the head maid, Kaella looked at her new room. It was a room that the head maid had decorated according to her own tastes—stiff, dogmatic, and terribly hideous and tacky. Every object in the room seemed to be shouting at Kaella, ‘You must be modest and docile!’ echoing outdated virtues.
After a feeble laugh, she sat on the hard chair and began to write a letter to her father for the first and last time.
･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ･
The girl, born in Ostain and known for being bright and diligent, eventually becoming the errand girl for the Grand Lady of the Ostain house, had the common name of Marie. Marie, the youngest and lowest-ranking of the three dedicated maids who had come to the cold Lyussenford following her Lady, stood in line with the other maids, watching the Grand Lady attending the evening banquet with anxiety.
To Marie, the title ‘Grand Lady’ or ‘My Lady’ was still more familiar than ‘Your Highness the Grand Duchess.’ And once an Ostain Grand Lady, she remained a Grand Lady to the end. There were no exceptions, other than her later becoming the Duke of Ostain.
‘Marie, if you happen to return to Ostain, please deliver this letter to my father.’
What could the Grand Lady be thinking, having entrusted the letter to Marie, and not the other maids? Marie prayed for the Grand Duke, who had taken such good care of the Grand Lady throughout the long journey to Lyussenford, to return quickly.
But the Grand Duke was currently out with the knights, performing the ritual of lighting the bonfires. So, the Grand Lady, left alone, was listening quietly while the Northern nobles all spoke in unison about ‘how deep in history and how delicious’ the food called Perenko or Peko or whatever it was.
It started like this: the Grand Lady—no, Her Highness the Grand Duchess—had hesitated after seeing the dry and unappetizing meat dish, and then called the head maid.
“Did I not say that I cannot eat Tur Berry?”
Her Highness the Grand Duchess had asked very quietly and with dignity. Of course, the maids from Ostain, including Marie, were staring with wide eyes, as this was the first time they had seen this ‘Tur Berry,’ and they hadn’t known their long-serving Lady couldn’t eat it.
“Ahem, Your Highness!”
However, the head maid raised her voice, taking advantage of the Grand Duke’s absence.
“Perenko is a traditional dish of Lyussenford, filled with our pride! It is cooked with Tur Berry, but can you not simply pick them out and eat it? If you have come to Lyussenford, you should rightfully eat the dishes we have prepared with such sincerity!”
The gazes snapped toward them in an instant, and Marie was horrified. The knights had stepped out briefly, and the remaining elderly nobles and ladies were glaring this way, when one Northern noble nearby asked:
“What is the matter? Is Perenko not an interesting dish to you?”
To Marie, it was a blatant trap question that made the maids who had served the Grand Lady gasp and look over. Yet, the Grand Lady, known in Ostain for being clever and wise, gave a strangely honest answer at that moment.
“It is not that; it is just that Tur Berry is an uncomfortable food for me.”
“No, why? It’s a fruit that grows in cold climates.”
“When I eat it, my body gets itchy and it’s a bit hard to breathe…….”
Before those words were even finished, the loud-voiced people gathered at this banquet began to preach in unison about how good Tur Berry was for the body—it was honestly a shocking sight for Marie. Even so, to contradict the niece of the Emperor and the next Duke of Ostain so openly! Was this not the Krania Empire? How could they be so rude to such a noble person?
“It is a food that is good for the body!”
“Indeed. Eating Perenko brings a peaceful year. It is an important dish that prays for the peace of Lyussenford.”
“Uncomfortable? Where exactly is it uncomfortable? Oh, that’s just because you aren’t used to it! Eat plenty! You must eat plenty to overcome it!”
“Yes, that’s right. You eat it to overcome it! Your Highness should have learned some brave courage since coming to Lyussenford!”
“Eat! Hurry and eat! If you slowly empty one plate at a time, before you know it, you’ll be able to eat a whole basket of Tur Berries. Isn’t that right?”
“Of course. Anything they say you shouldn’t eat is just a sales tactic by doctors trying to sell medicine.”
With clamor, they talked about Perenko this and Tur Berry that, pouring out lectures disguised as encouragement. It felt as if they would make a scene if she didn’t eat it.
The maids from Ostain were overwhelmed and left with their mouths agape. It was a terribly rude treatment toward the Grand Lady! The people of the North were large of frame and boisterous of voice, and it seemed as though the small and delicate Kaella would be swept away, or rather, crushed. No, in Marie’s eyes, it seemed the Grand Lady had already been crushed. Her face was pale, and there was no expression left on it.
What was even more chilling was that after the nobles who had been pouring their words at her shut their mouths, the head maid declared in the silence like a judge:
“Please do not ignore our sincerity, Your Highness. We would be deeply hurt. Are you not becoming a person of Lyussenford yourself, Your Highness?”
What kind of person was that? Cecil, the most senior of the maids who had come with the Grand Lady, tried to step forward, but the Grand Lady stopped her with a gesture under the table. Marie simply prayed for the Grand Duke to come quickly.
“I, too, am a person of Lyussenford. I only wish that I do not fall severely ill from eating it. That would be a shameful thing.”
The Grand Lady pulled up the corners of her mouth with a deathly pale face. The three maids, who could not move due to orders, did not hear it as a joke, but a loud, booming laughter erupted from the room.
“How ill could you possibly get? If you are a person of Lyussenford, you will bravely overcome it!”
“That’s right! Surely that bit of indigestion wouldn’t be stronger than our Lyussenford winter!”
“Even if you are embarrassed, we will pretend not to notice!”
With ‘Lyussenford’ attached to the end of every sentence, it was enough to make one’s eardrums ring. Knowing well that the people left here were particularly loud, Kaella moved her fork. She put the dry meat, soaked in pickled Tur Berries and juice, into her mouth and chewed.
“How is it? It’s fine, isn’t it? You were just scared for no reason while eating it well.”
“Courage is added when you come to Lyussenford! It seems it was a bit hard down in the South!”
The maids from Ostain were speechless at this incredible scene. Kaella repeatedly put the tasteless meat into her mouth and chewed it slowly, without expression. When she was first married, she had noticed it was strange after eating a little, spat it out immediately, and never touched the dish again.
Even here, the Grand Duchess was firmly branded by just this one dish, which was cooked in mountains once a year and left mostly uneaten. No matter how much she said her throat hurt and it was hard to breathe, everyone fumed that the ‘weak and timid Southerner dares to look down on Lyussenford.’
Come to think of it, she should have just eaten it all and died on the spot. What kind of foolish dream had she been chasing? To think she had the idiotic thought that God had taken pity on her and brought her back to life—it wasn’t even funny.
This place remained the same, and she was merely the young Grand Duchess. Though she tried until she died, the glares of the head maid and the chef were always terrifying. The young Grand Duchess, who had struggled to adapt, had no adult to turn to for help and had been overwhelmed by things she was experiencing for the first time. Enduring and enduring, she watched as the maids she had brought from Ostain fell ill one by one from the cold, and she regretted watching one of them eventually die of a fever. She should have just sent them back to their hometowns.
Perhaps, now, she could send them back.