TDOT~68

Chapter 68

Matilda wiped her tears with the handkerchief Frida had handed her and shared her worries.

“This morning, when I woke up, Stephan was sleeping in his chair. He was so deeply asleep that I couldn’t wake him. So I tried to at least tidy up his clothes… and then I saw the letter.”

It was a letter stamped with the Seal of Shendal Castle. She knew she shouldn’t open it, but curiosity got the better of her. Having been a maid for many years, Matilda had learned how to open wax-sealed envelopes without breaking the seal. She thought she could just explain to Stephan that she was curious and it would be fine. Carefully, using a letter opener, she opened the envelope—and what she found shocked her: it was a summons from the Imperial Court.

“They said someone has come forward claiming ownership of the Boild estate. The documents they submitted are legally valid, and they have enough grounds, so I am being summoned to the Imperial Court to explain myself.”

“What? How can that be? Baron Boild formally inherited the title, so the proof of ownership should be with him!”

Matilda nodded, wiping the moisture from her eyes with the handkerchief. She wasn’t usually an emotional person, but now that she was expecting a child, tears flowed easily, catching her off guard.

“Yes. He has the perfect documents passed down through generations. But in resolving noble disputes, the Imperial Court doesn’t always rely solely on documents.”

“What do you mean, Matilda? You mean there are cases where they judge based on something other than absolute proof?”

To nobles with power, documents were strength, but to those without it, they were just pieces of paper. Matilda, who had served as a maid for the Countess of Chamberlain and seen the dirty, ugly world of nobles firsthand, knew this better than anyone. Fair application of the law only existed for a few nobles entrenched in positions of power at Shendal Castle. She disliked that messy world, and perhaps that was why she cherished the pure-hearted Stephan even more.

Why, of all times, did someone appear to claim a rather insignificant Boild estate? Could it really be unrelated to Duke Richard? Most likely, as Matilda suspected, it was a warning from the Empress Dowager. Watching her husband sleep uncomfortably in his chair, countless thoughts ran through her mind.

Every day, he exhausted himself and fell asleep, yet he threw himself into his work with more passion than ever. At first, she had looked on the Barons’ couple with disapproval, but over time she had grown fond of them, and the people of the Ducal estate treated them warmly. This was the simple, modest country life she had dreamed of. Here, she wanted to give birth to her child and live forever. For a moment, she had allowed herself to forget why they had come here—or perhaps she genuinely wanted to forget. In the worst case, Matilda could leave behind whatever she had in Chelino and move on, but her husband could not. Even if others considered it insignificant, he had a proud family history he wanted to pass on to his child.

Yet to protect it, he would have to live as a betrayer here. Seeing the weight on his shoulders, she covered her mouth and cried until the morning sun rose. But tears alone would solve nothing. She needed to speak to Stephan about this letter and make a decision. Matilda firmly grasped Frida’s hand and forced a smile.

“I’ve talked too much for no reason. Don’t worry about me; I’m fine. I guess I just got a little emotional… they say this is common for expectant mothers.”

Having secretly opened the letter, Stephan would likely be looking for it by now. Matilda got up and tugged on Frida’s arm.

“Today’s the day for your long walk. Come on, let’s get ready—I’ll help you.”

“No, Matilda. It’s not about the walk. We need to find a way. A way… to secure evidence so the Imperial Court cannot possibly rule otherwise.”

Frida jumped up, pacing the room and deep in thought. She touched her chin, nodded, pursed her lips, and spent several minutes pondering. Then she clenched her fist.

“I think… I have to go there myself.”

Daniel had allowed them only half a day to go out. To make it there and back quickly, they had to hurry.

Leopold tossed the book he had just taken onto the floor instead of putting it back on the shelf. Anything he hadn’t read was either boring or trivial. The only thing catching his eye in the dusty library was the ornate stained glass on the window. Even though it might look beautiful if polished, it had been left untouched, probably because of a lack of funds.

“Pathetic.”

Leopold leaned against the wall, hands clasped behind his head. This corner had the advantage of good sunlight and, to his satisfaction, the massive bookshelf on the right completely blocked his view from outside. Even if someone came in, the shelf would hide him. Given his foul mood, he didn’t want to meet anyone—especially not Patricia. Even if she came to this dusty pit, he would just pretend she wasn’t there. Unfortunately, he had no mercy left to show the government.

He didn’t need to be here. Seeing Daniel weakened, unlike before, would have been satisfying. But the result was the opposite. Daniel hadn’t changed. He was still strong and composed, just as he had always been, causing Leopold to feel self-loathing each time. Perfect lineage, overflowing wealth—Leopold had been born with everything. Richard had been the same, and now, as Bolshack II, it was no different. Yet Daniel overshadowed him like clouds hiding the sun. Even his mother, known for her cold logic, was wary and tense around him. All Leopold had left was beast-like stamina and decent sword skills—and he had lost even that. He wanted to see that wretched face of Daniel, who had enthralled the women of Chelino, now pale and frail.

“If only he had died at Nottingen,” he muttered. Then he could have held a grand funeral and, blaming Daniel’s mother for persecuting him, grieved joyfully.

“Why does he have to survive and trouble everyone?”

Simple-minded people didn’t understand that those at the very top had to live with all eyes on them, wearing masks. The more exquisite and sturdy the mask, the more exhausting it was. Sometimes, one could even lose track of what was real. Too much falseness would appear insincere; too much kindness, like pretension.

“I am me, and I can live without being swayed, keeping my wits about me, Mother,” he muttered, laughing at himself. Everything felt empty. Life itself wasn’t particularly meaningful.

“Alive but not living. Meaning? What meaning?”

Staring blankly, perhaps due to yesterday’s sudden rain, the cleaned window offered a clear view outside. Especially the white clouds drifting past the glassless sections—they were so white, so pure… almost like her. Leopold muttered to himself like a mad old man.

“Frida… Hackborn.”

He didn’t know her middle name. He hadn’t even known her name until Daniel called her. His mother had hurriedly arranged the unsatisfactory marriage, worried Daniel might father a child elsewhere. The marriage had damaged his mother’s reputation, which satisfied him. He hadn’t expected the Duchess to still be alive, walking around instead of lying in bed, waiting to die.

“Damn it, focus, you madman.”

Leopold slammed his head against the bookshelf with a thud. Creak. At that moment, someone pushed open the library door.

“Damn it. Who the hell is it? I told no one to come in!”

“Ah!”

Startled, he jumped, and a book barely missed brushing past a head of white hair and fell to the ground.

Seeing Dominic alone without the person he was supposed to accompany, Daniel craned his neck.

“Why are you alone?”

“I was told the Duchess had already gone out with Baroness Boild,” Dominic replied.

“Really?”

Daniel had been planning to ask her to take a walk together, but she had already left. Feeling a bit awkward that his plan had vanished, he smiled. He picked up the bundle of documents Stephan had left behind. Just then, Dominic’s voice came.

“The Empress Dowager has started pressuring Baron Boild.”

As expected, Daniel remained calm, flipping through the papers.

“So it’s the ownership dispute we anticipated?”

“Yes. A letter arrived from the Imperial Court yesterday.”

“Who’s behind it?”

“Count Holbeck. He’s the cousin and in-law of Count Clima, the Empress Dowager’s aide.”

After the last mishap, Dominic had been carefully checking all correspondence with the Baron. So far, nothing in it seemed to appeal to the Imperial Court. That meant Baron Boild was not following the Empress Dowager’s will.

“What will you do?”

“Do I need to intervene? The Baron will decide.”

Dominic beat his chest, frustrated.

“The documents you see were probably drafted by the Baron himself last night. He handled all the countless matters at Weinhaim Castle during the day and still produced that mountain of paperwork!”

Dominic knocked the papers stacked on the edge of the desk.

“Please value our steward. If it weren’t for Baron Boild, the Duchess would have had to do all that herself.”

“You’d have done it too, probably. Not as well, though.”

True. He admitted it. Just watching was not an option.

“If she returns to the capital even tomorrow, it’ll be a huge problem. With the Emperor’s schedule uncertain, I have to prepare lodging for the road construction before the rainy season, and I’m swamped.”

With Dominic restricted by the Emperor, Muriel had been shuttling in and out of nearby villages for several days.

“Looking at him working like an ox, he’s perfect for this. Why not leak some info to the Imperial Court? People do things like that. Just don’t get caught! We’ll capture him and make him work for us for a long time.”

Daniel silently closed the documents he was examining and stood. He strode toward the bookshelf, with Dominic following closely.

“Where are you going in the middle of our talk?”

Before pushing the left corner of the secret passage, Daniel looked back at Dominic.

“Find the documents Count Holbeck has and burn every last one of them.”

“Yes, sir. But where are you going?”

Daniel pushed the left corner of the bookshelf and disappeared into the shadows without answering.