The Lyussenford Castle, too shabby to be called a “castle,” was being swept by cold air once again.
Winter brought blizzards, swallowing the landscape and pulling the world into a muffled silence. The castle, in particular, had grown unnaturally still following the recent, unfortunate incident.
Because the newlywed Grand Duchess had nearly died, executions had followed, and the head maid who once held sway over the castle had been banished. Having lost their leader overnight, the staff—fearing for their own futures—lingered in the hallways, casting anxious glances toward the butler, Viscount Rolf Anderson.
But he had no clever solutions to offer. The Grand Duke’s gaze was unsettling, and his only mandate was that the Grand Duchess be kept in absolute peace until her recovery.
In the tail end of this silent winter, where everyone held their breath, the only ones tactlessly making noise were the children of the staff, who had burst into tears.
“Sasha, Sasha, stop crying now. You have to hush. Hush.”
With no one else to look after the employees’ children, they often wandered the working quarters while their mothers performed their tasks.
“If you don’t stop, a dragon will come and eat you! Stop it, now.”
From a young age, the children grew up steeped in the fear of the biting cold, the fearsome Emperor, and the dragon—a beast that, while unable to cross the border, commanded an army of elementals and ghosts. The parents used that fear effectively.
The mother, ashen-faced, grabbed her daughter, who was screaming loud enough to rattle the stones, and ran blindly. The Grand Duchess, the Emperor’s niece, was barely recovering; if the area where Her Grace stayed became noisy, there was no telling what might happen.
The Grand Duke himself had decreed that the residence must remain peaceful. Since even the nobles, excluding the head maid, had ended up on the gallows, the terrified mother fled as far from the inner castle as possible.
*Waaaah.* The sound echoed through the hallways. In a massive stone structure where silence was the standard, even a small noise resonated like a thunderclap. The mother, a laundress, turned white with the fear of disturbing the Grand Duchess’s rest.
“I said stop!”
The flustered laundress slapped the child’s bottom with hands cracked and frozen by cold water. *Waaaah,* the crying grew even louder.
“You have to be quiet in the castle! Stop it right now!”
Just as the laundress, now beyond flustered, tried to flee again, she unexpectedly encountered three knights and several maids standing in the open outer courtyard. Among the maids stood a noblewoman wrapped in glossy, luxurious fur.
There was only one person in Lyussenford Castle who could be called a “noblewoman.”
“Oh, my goodness!”
The laundress sank to the ground, still holding the child. The woman, knowing nothing, thought she was done for. Her daughter kept crying as if to shake the very foundations of the castle, and she felt both a wave of hatred and pity toward her.
“I am sorry! The child is ill, I didn’t mean to make so much noise…!”
The elegant Grand Duchess, who radiated a natural nobility, watched the laundress quietly before turning her gaze to the doctor who had accompanied her.
“She says the child is ill.”
The child, face flushed beet-red, was wheezing in a way that sounded ominous.
“Examine her.”
Darinka, who had been watching the girl’s condition from afar, looked back at the Grand Duchess in surprise.
“Are you sure, Your Grace?”
“Do you have nothing else to do right now?”
Nothing to do? The doctor, who had insisted that the Grand Duchess needed to walk to aid her recovery, hurried toward the child while still attending to her duties.
“You must walk around this inner courtyard, Your Grace. Don’t rush; go slowly.”
By the time Kaella nodded, Darinka was already kneeling in front of the child. Kaella, bundled up so tightly by the maids that movement was a chore, stared blankly at the trembling woman.
The newlywed Grand Duchess shouldn’t have known who that woman was, but Kaella knew instantly: she was a laundress. With her wet apron, hands red and swollen from soap, and the headscarf tucked over her hair, she was clearly someone who worked the most grueling shift in the laundry room.
Kaella, who had once been obsessed with the idea that she had to know everything happening within Lyussenford Castle, was now weary of the fact that she had instantly discerned so much just by looking.
Seeking distraction, she asked a nearby knight. Peon always left one of his most trusted guards with Kaella whenever he was away. Today, Sir Wilberg was in charge of her security.
“Why is she like that? Isn’t this a place where staff walk as well?”
There was no need for the woman to be so terrified, her face blue and her head bowed to the stone. It was more familiar to Kaella that the staff usually whispered while watching her from a distance. She knew the rumors—that she was a witch sent by the Emperor, or a wooden doll who couldn’t even bear children. Kind words were rare; malicious gossip was constant.
“It seems to be because of the order His Grace issued.”
“What order?”
“He said that a peaceful environment would help Your Grace recover, so he ordered everyone to be quiet.”
That was excessive. Peace in a castle where over a thousand people lived? Kaella tilted her head.
“I’m fine, though…?”
That was a statement no one but Kaella would agree with. Even though she had barely managed to get up, she walked with difficulty, her face entirely devoid of color; to any observer, she was clearly a patient.
Because the rumor was widespread that the young Grand Duchess had been greatly frightened by the stubborn, push-comes-to-shove nature typical of Northerners, it was only natural that the Grand Duke treated her like fragile porcelain.
“Isn’t it natural for a child to cry if she’s ill? That much is fine.”
The laundress, hearing this, knelt and performed a deep bow.
“Thank you, Your Grace! Thank you!”
“How is the child’s condition?”
At a glance, the child looked thinner than the employees’ children she had seen in Ostain. Lyussenford, built on barren land, was far too impoverished. Peon carried the entire burden here alone, running around to somehow make this a place where people could survive.
Kaella, too, had once tried to share in that goal. She had tried to fix the poor facilities and secure funds for construction. She had been so presumptuous, even though Peon hadn’t asked for it.
In the end, those actions had played a major role in her current confinement. Her frantic efforts to turn Lyussenford into a proper Grand Duchy had become the trap that ensnared her. She should have just done nothing at all.
“She has a fever. If left untreated, she will be seriously ill, and it will spread among the other children.”
At Darinka’s diagnosis, the laundress’s face went white. If she were kicked out for spreading disease, where would she earn money? It was a hard-won position; if she lost it, she would have to starve.
“If it spreads in the castle, it will spread outside as well. Take her and treat her until she is fully recovered. Check everyone else to see if it has already caught on.”
“May I really, Your Grace?” Darinka asked, beaming.
“Do so. Leaving a capable doctor idle is a waste of talent.”
Kaella stared blankly at the little girl, who had tired herself out from crying and was now wheezing against her mother’s chest. The mother was holding the child with such fierce, protective love. A precious joy, she supposed. Kaella turned her gaze away. That was something she would never know in her own life.
･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ･
Rolf Anderson, the butler of Lyussenford Castle, was currently struggling to run the estate in the absence of the head maid.
He proudly called himself a “Viscount” and believed he worked with great responsibility and loyalty. To others, his pride was unnecessarily large compared to his sense of responsibility, but then, very few people are truly objective about themselves.
He felt a serious crisis brewing because of a doctor who had suddenly demanded he open the warehouse.
“No, do you have any idea how precious those things are? Do you really need them to treat the Grand Duchess?”
This woman, a pharmacist or whatever, who had barged in with Sir Wilberg in the lead, seemed like a terrible choice to Viscount Rolf. In his view, women were emotional and ill-suited for the important, productive tasks of managing a household. But since the Grand Duke had chosen her, he was tolerating it against his will.
“Her Grace ordered me to bring them.”
The woman had an impudent look, devoid of the proper submissiveness. As for being blunt, she could give the knights a run for their money.
The new Grand Duchess had already made a fuss over not being able to digest a mere Tur Berry; now, she was asking for precious soap and medicine. There was a mountain of work to do, and Rolf found it deeply annoying that he had to go to the warehouse himself. Since Sir Wilberg was watching quietly, he had no choice, but her comments kept bothering him.
“My goodness, if you pile them up like this and don’t manage them, they’ll all be ruined. I must take them away quickly.”
What a lot of nerve she had, taking away supplies as she pleased! In this cold place, one had to store things away and live frugally! Rolf, having locked the warehouse, stood up to follow her.
As the butler, he had to know exactly how those items were used. He immediately discovered what kind of order the Grand Duchess had given, and where she was using the precious medicine.
The medicine was, for heaven’s sake, being used on dirty children!
“Tell us a story about dragons!”
Rolf peeked through the crack in the door to see the low-born children of the employees whining to the pharmacist.
“Dragons are born from ash.”
“Not from red fire?”
“They are born from the ash left behind after the fire burns, and burns, and burns again. And they breathe out a fearsome flame that consumes everything. Now, let’s see here? Yes. It looks like you have a fever.”
While the wide-eyed children focused on Darinka, Rolf quickly left. The Grand Duchess was immature! Those were precious items, meant to be saved for the wounded if a dragon attacked, yet she was giving them to such wretches! How could someone raised so pampered have such a penchant for extravagance?
*And yet, the Grand Duke knows nothing, he is simply bewitched…!*
What had the head maid, Doris, said when she was banished? She said the Grand Duke, whom they had raised so preciously, had been bewitched by a woman. And a Southern woman at that—the Emperor’s niece! Well, young men deeply in love usually couldn’t see what was in front of them.
The castle was running very strangely, and the keys were slipping out of the butler’s grasp. That couldn’t happen.
“It can’t happen. It just can’t.”
The butler picked up his pen, purely out of a “sincere heart” worrying for the Grand Duke. Everything in Lyussenford must remain in its place. The moment things changed, they wavered. Should a castle guarding the North be like that? Having the head maid chased away was enough. She had to return.
The pen began to draw mysterious ciphers instead of Krain script. Rolf poured his soul into the code, sealed it, and handed it to a crony who loitered in the shadows.
“To the place where it was always sent.”
The crony returned shortly after with a reply. Rolf closed the door tightly and read the note.
*Already reported.*
*Aha, so that’s how it is.* Rolf narrowed his eyes. Such a vile dog of the Emperor. Had they already reported to Krain that the Grand Duchess had collapsed?
“They’re fast, too. Anyhow…”
People who hoped for breadcrumbs from Krain were useful. Rolf had intended for them to inform the Emperor, but he had merely been using them.
It was the guardian’s role to properly hold onto a young person who had lost their way. If the Emperor heard the news and sent an envoy to stir up Lyussenford, the Grand Duke would immediately come to his senses. He would realize that the Grand Duchess was just a Krain woman sent by the Emperor, not one of them.
Since she was the Emperor’s niece, that was unavoidable. It was just frustrating that the Grand Duke hadn’t realized what everyone else already knew.
*Sometimes a rod is needed. Yes, indeed.*
It was all out of a desire for the Grand Duke to grow up upright. Rolf felt a sense of pride in his own sagacity.
Outside the tightly closed castle, the spies were moving quickly. Inside, in the warmly lit clinic, the dragon story continued.
“Dragons hoard gold. Even the hottest fire cannot defeat a dragon.”
From the domain of the evil dragon visible in the distance, an ominous, black shadow—or perhaps it was smoke—began to rise.