AHCF 19

Chapter : 19. Chapter 2. What Faith Means (5)

“I don’t have confidence that I won’t abuse him, and I don’t even want that child’s hair in the count’s estate for a single second! If the Duncan family takes him, everything will be fine, so what on earth are you doing alone like this!”

Why do you keep turning people into monsters? I’m just trying to break this damned vicious cycle—so why are you trying to drag people back into that abyss?

Count Artes’ face turned red and blue with rage as he began to glare at his wife as if he wanted to kill her. Aysilla tensed her body, ready to intervene if necessary.

“How can there be such a pathetic, selfish, shameless human being!?”

Aysilla could understand why the Countess was so enraged. She had assumed the Count of the Artes household would come alone in the carriage—she never expected his wife and child to be there as well.

The moment she realized there were three people inside the carriage, Aysilla had been utterly shocked.

Well, if anything, since the ones responsible for the abuse were the wife and Lloyd, it made sense they would need to be present for any agreement.

But if the count had even a shred of conscience, logic, reason, or common sense, he should have come alone and begged.

The Countess raised her voice sharply.

“Who said abuse is something to be proud of? I don’t even want to hit that child, but the moment I see him, my chest feels like it’s collapsing—what am I supposed to do? All of this started because of you! Who told you to cheat? Are you insane? After cheating, instead of kneeling down and begging, you’re giving me orders?”

“I—!”

“What do you mean ‘I’! Go on, say more. Let’s hear what you have to say now, when I asked you which woman you cheated with and you stayed silent all that time!”

The Count’s face, already flushed red, turned pale and then ghostly blue. Aysilla gave a crooked smile as she read his embarrassment.

Hah. Just as expected.

At this point, it was becoming undeniable truth that Ronel truly had Duncan blood.

A man who kidnapped Duncan’s direct heir, raised him as his own illegitimate child, and then trampled on his wife’s heart—while also passively allowing his legitimate son to go astray—was sitting right here.

She couldn’t even decide where to begin calling him trash.

Aysilla stared at him in awe, and under her gaze the Count’s face turned even paler.

“Say something—why aren’t you speaking—”

Amid the sharp voice, the door suddenly swung open.

The Countess shut her mouth in surprise, and Aysilla turned her eyes toward the new arrivals.

A boy with ash-gray hair walked in, dragging the back of Lloyd—the ill-tempered young master of Artes—by the scruff of his neck.

So that’s why they were late; it seemed he had been helping restrain Lloyd. Or perhaps he had gotten lost and simply happened to catch him along the way.

Bertrand Richard first greeted Aysilla, the owner of the study, with a polite bow. Then he slowly turned his head toward the Count and Countess. The two quickly stood and returned the greeting, their worried eyes fixed on the child being dragged in disgracefully.

“The young master insulted my mother.”

Now not only the Count but even the Countess turned deathly pale. Given Lloyd’s temperament, neither of them could doubt the truth of it.

“He said my mother was sold off, did he not? Young master of Count Artes.”

“……”

“Say it again.”

“I didn’t say anything wrong—”

“Lloyd—!” the Countess screamed as if in a seizure, but the child, raised too indulgently, had already crossed the line without thinking.

“Isn’t it natural for your mother to be sold if she’s a bastard!”

“Ah. I see.”

Bertrand murmured in a voice full of disappointment, as if he had not expected him to actually repeat it after being told to.

With a crack, the teacup the Count had been holding fell and rolled away—but no one paid attention to the noise. Lloyd, unable to contain his anger, lunged straight at the Duke.

And Bertrand Richard showed no mercy.

He caught the incoming fist with his palm and immediately drove a punch into the boy’s abdomen. As Lloyd gagged for breath, the Duke tripped his legs, sending him sprawling across the carpet in a messy heap. The place where he had been struck must have hurt badly; Lloyd clawed at the carpet with his fingernails.

The Duke casually stepped on his hand with his polished shoe.

“Sorry for the disturbance, Lady Aysilla.”

Aysilla replied gently.

“It’s alright. I understand.”

“Then may I cause a bit more of it?”

No one failed to understand the meaning of that simple question. Not Aysilla, sitting with her legs crossed in calm ease, nor the Count and Countess frozen like statues.

Not even Lloyd, lying face-down.

At the Duke of the Empire’s words, a heavy silence settled like lead.

Then—

“Your Highness.”

It was the Countess who suddenly knelt in front of the Duke without hesitation.

Beside her, the Count froze with his hand still on the armrest. Aysilla looked away toward the window, while only Lloyd—still sprawled on the floor—could not see what was happening and continued groaning.

Countess Artes.

Before marriage, she had been a noble lady of a prestigious house. After marriage, she became a noble Countess of another distinguished house. No one other than the Emperor or Empress could ever force her to her knees.

Even if the opponent was a young Duke of the Empire.

The Countess placed a hand over her chest and begged for forgiveness on her son’s behalf.

“Your Grace. Please.”

“……”

“Please forgive my son’s shortcomings.”

When she tried to bow her head further, Bertrand raised a hand to stop her. It was a light gesture, but the Countess, trembling violently, forced her voice out.

“This is all due to my failure in raising him properly—”

“Please stand, Madam. I do not like people kneeling before me.”

“……Your Highness.”

“I will let it pass. Hoping that one day the young master understands the meaning of this moment.”

Only then did the Countess manage to stagger back to her feet. Bertrand watched her trembling hands with slightly narrowed eyes, then continued smoothly.

“Apologies, Madam, but could you leave with the young master? I need to speak with the Count and Lady Aysilla.”

“T-thank you, Your Highness.”

“You look quite pale. Perhaps you should return to the estate first. Lady Aysilla, could you provide a carriage?”

“I will do so.”

With a tug of the bell cord, Aysilla summoned Michel, who quickly appeared and escorted the complaining Lloyd and the unsteady Countess away.

The study, now left with only three people, began to fill with a denser silence. It was an oppressive quiet, tangled with discomfort.

Aysilla sipped her tea while recalling the earlier argument, and Bertrand casually took one of the biscuits left behind by the Countess and began eating it with satisfaction.

“It’s quite good.”

“Is it? Would you like to take some with you later?”

Just as the two began chatting as if nothing had happened, the Count hurriedly interjected.

“Lady Duncan, please return Ronel. I have said this repeatedly, but you have no right—”

“I can’t accept that.”

This time, it was the young Duke’s voice that cut him off firmly. The Count stared blankly at the boy calmly splitting and eating a biscuit.

“This is not something Your Grace needs to concern yourself with.”

“Lady Aysilla Duncan.”

Bertrand called her name while still chewing the biscuit.

“Didn’t you say Miss Ronel was being abused?”

“She was.”

“If Ronel returns to the Artes estate, will she no longer be abused?”

“The Countess said she cannot guarantee she won’t abuse her.”

The Count interjected again, nervously rubbing the armrest.

“So what does that have to do with Your Grace—”

“There is a rule in the House of Richard that we must unconditionally prioritize the safety of those under our hospitality.”

“Pardon?”

What is he talking about? Why does the Duke care about Ronel’s safety? They’ve never even met.

The Count, about to protest immediately, froze in his seat. A thought suddenly struck him, forcing his eyes wide open.

No. That can’t be. It doesn’t make sense.

But Bertrand Richard smiled faintly and confirmed it.

“Correct.”

“Wh-what did you say, Your Highness!”

“The ‘Law of Hospitality’ is a strict rule, is it not?”

Among noble houses, the “Law of Hospitality” was absolute: once the head of the house recognized someone as a guest of honor, the family was obligated to guarantee their safety unconditionally.

Because of its heavy burden, most noble families only ever treated most visitors as ordinary guests, not honored ones.

Being recognized as an honored guest was reserved only for rare cases—relatives, royalty, or foreign nobility.

The Duncan family was not a noble house. Therefore, they could not invoke the Law of Hospitality and had no justification to protect Ronel.

They had carried out everything under that assumption.

But now—

The House of Richard was invoking the Law of Hospitality?

Impossible.

The Count felt as though the world was collapsing and cried out without realizing it.

“Your Highness has never even met that child!”

“Yes, that’s right. So?”

“……Then why invoke the Law of Hospitality!”

Was the Duke’s sudden visit at dawn, supposedly on an inspection tour, actually at Aysilla Duncan’s request?

He already knew that the Duncan family and House of Richard were close. It was famous in Ederca social circles that the Duke of Richard’s uncle—the ruler of the Principality of Siena, Grand Prince Friedrich—was Aysilla Duncan’s lover.

“Don’t tell me you don’t understand how serious the Law of Hospitality is—”

“Count, not everyone’s intelligence is on your level.”

Even that blatant mockery failed to reach the Count’s dazed mind. In his blurred vision, only Aysilla and the young Duke sat smiling calmly.

“T-then… why?”