TLDWAE 24

Chapter 24

Shagal, who had once again drifted off into daydreams, noticed Karia staring straight at his face and gave an awkward cough.

“Ah, forgive me. I was rambling again about useless things…”

“Isn’t it fine?”

“Pardon? What is?”

“It’s true that you have a remarkable face. With a face like that, you should have some pride.”

“Ah…”

Is that so? Shagal swallowed down the bitter feeling rising in his throat. He wanted to argue back, but there was no denying that he was good-looking, so he had nothing to say. Deciding it was better to quit meddling unnecessarily, he resolved to focus on his mission instead.

“Anyway, I’ve received the report well. What about the carriage?”

“I parked it nearby, since I wasn’t sure where you wanted it. Oh, and here’s a checkbook. This should be more convenient for you to use, right?”

Shagal handed her a checkbook issued under the name of a merchant guild. Instead of cash, she could simply write down the required amount, and later the guild would cover the expense.

“Excellent. Then leave the carriage in front of the ducal estate.”

“Just leave it there and walk away?”

“Do you have urgent business?”

“No, nothing like that, but…”

The reason she had gone through a mercenary company to get the carriage was because she wanted it to be her personal possession, not one belonging to the ducal household. Wouldn’t it be risky to just leave it openly in front of the estate? What if those knights seized it, claiming the duchess was trying to run away?

Karia, catching his hesitation, glanced at him and wrote “50 gold” in the checkbook, then tucked it into his pouch. At the unexpected bonus, Shagal’s face lit up instantly.

“Then would you wait while having a meal? I won’t be long.”

“Yes, of course! I’ll prepare right away!”

He answered so loudly that the guards at the Pandeon mansion turned their heads, and then walked off with a light step. Karia, satisfied after seeing the checkbook’s usefulness with her own eyes, nodded and tucked it into her bosom.

Now that she had gathered all her cards, it was time to start the game.

“So, you’re saying you lost the duchess?”

“My apologies.”

“I’d heard much about the valor of the ‘Blue Wolves,’ but it seems your skill doesn’t match the rumors.”

Rubidef Pandeon’s temper had been worsening by the day, constantly hitting rock bottom. The reason was, of course, his wife, who had begun acting strangely.

No matter how dissatisfied a wife might be, what kind of lady of the house hires mercenaries to beat up her own family’s knights?

And to think that a member of the Blue Wolves—a unit composed of only the most skilled, regardless of birth, gathered to root out bandits—was beaten by mere mercenaries? It was humiliating. Truly terrifying, in fact, should anyone hear and laugh about it.

Jurin Baltos wasn’t really at fault, but if Rubidef didn’t lash out at him, he felt like he would explode.

“Steward! Has the duchess still not returned? It’s been a day and a half already!”

At his shout through the door, the steward rushed in. Beads of sweat rolled down his face as he stammered under Rubidef’s piercing glare.

“M-my lord! Her Ladyship has returned!”

“…Hah. Fine. Where is she?”

Clutching at his throbbing forehead, the duke watched the steward rush forward, trying to read his mood. But the man faltered, too hesitant to speak. He knew that telling the duke where she was would only worsen his temper.

Still, under Rubidef’s relentless questioning, the steward had no choice but to speak. And the moment he heard her whereabouts, Rubidef’s face froze into a grim mask, and he stormed off.

“Madam, what on earth are you doing?”

“Oh, Duke. You’re late.”

Karia was sitting calmly inside the estate’s great hall. Normally, it was never opened except on days when vassals gathered. And today was such a day—the quarterly political council, when all of Pandeon’s vassals would convene.

“I heard the council was today, so I came early.”

“And why are you sitting here? This isn’t a place for games.”

“I’m not so idle as to play games with you. Am I not allowed to come? Haven’t there been duchesses in the past who attended councils to lend their wisdom? Nothing unusual about it.”

Rubidef trembled with rage, struggling to keep his anger in check, but Karia’s expression remained utterly composed.

Yes, there had been duchesses who participated in councils—but only when the house was already in decline, and it had always led to meddling from maternal relatives that worsened matters.

Karia had avoided the council precisely because she knew Rubidef hated interference and was insecure about the family’s wavering strength.

And now, suddenly showing up? It was a blatant disregard of his will.

So this was how she repaid him for releasing her mother as she pleased. Rubidef thought her behavior petty and immature.

“You’re not entirely wrong.”

Just then, the door opened, and a third person entered—the Pandeon dowager duchess. She looked as elegant and stately as ever, as though she had never been dragged away and imprisoned by knights.

Her words siding with Karia made both Rubidef and Karia look at her with suspicion.

They both knew she was not the kind of woman to speak kindly to her enemy.

“Wasn’t it laziness that you never showed your face before? It’s fortunate you’ve finally come to your senses. If you want the rights of the lady of the house, you must first fulfill the duties properly.”

Of course. Her words were the same as always.

You’ve been too lazy, neglecting your duties as duchess. You are unfit for the role.

That was how the dowager had always spoken to Karia—even though she herself had constantly sabotaged Karia’s attempts whenever she did try to do something.

In the past, Karia would have lowered her head in shame. But not today.

“As expected, Madam Dowager, your judgment is sharp. It seems your wits aren’t completely gone yet.”

Smiling brightly, without anger or discomfort, Karia delivered her barbed reply. Rubidef clutched his forehead as the two women clashed.

“Rubidef, let her sit. Let’s see how well she does.”

“…Do as you please.”

The duke, who had been about to drag her out chair and all, relented at his mother’s words and took his seat at the head of the long rectangular table. Karia and the dowager sat to his right and left.

As silence filled the chamber, the door opened again.

“Duchess?”

It was Count Hesis Rivne, Rubidef’s right-hand man and secretary. Adjusting his glasses, he looked toward his usual seat. But there sat the woman who had recently stirred endless rumors throughout Pandeon—the duchess.

“She wishes to observe the council. Don’t mind her, Count Rivne. Sit.”

“…As you command.”

Though startled, Hesis obeyed and took a seat one place away from Karia. Watching her quietly, he noticed a paper envelope resting on her lap.

He narrowed his eyes, about to ask about it, when a loud, boisterous voice interrupted.

“Hohoho! Sister! It’s been too long!”

“Ah, Viscount Delos. Welcome.”

It was Viscount Delos, one of Pandeon’s vassals—and the dowager duchess’s younger brother. Hesis scowled at the sight of the burly, ox-like man.

“Sister, you look younger by the day! How do you turn back the years like this?”

“Don’t tease me. My face has been troubled lately with… certain worries.”

“Oh my, truly?”

The viscount’s booming voice echoed as he embraced the dowager, rejoicing in their reunion as though they hadn’t met in decades. She, too, welcomed him in an exaggerated fashion.

And, of course, she cast glances toward Karia while making remarks meant to sting. The viscount stomped his heavy feet and bellowed.

“Really now, nephew! How could you let your mother’s peace of mind be disturbed like this? Just say the word, sister! I’ll clear away anyone or anything for you!”

“No need. They’re not beasts, just bothersome gnats. I can handle such things myself—I don’t need the viscount’s hand.”

This was exactly why Hesis despised him.

The viscount was not young, wise, nor in possession of a wealthy estate. He had no real influence in the duchy.

And yet, he always flaunted his blood relation with the dowager, casually calling the duke “nephew” and pretending at superiority.

In council, he was no help—always looking like a hungry wolf, searching for scraps to take instead.

“Unbelievable,” came a cold voice beside Hesis.

Startled, he turned and found the duchess looking at him, a light smile playing on her lips—the kind of smile that hid a blade.

Her cold tone and sharp gaze were things Hesis had never seen from her before, and a chill of foreboding stirred in his chest.

Not discomfort—but dread.