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Chapter 27
“First. The residents of Blansk are strongly opposed to the influx of refugees. They’ve worked hard to build a comfortable environment for themselves, and they don’t want to share it with outsiders.”
“……”
“Second. The Blansk garrison is also very reluctant to accept refugees. They say it’s because the crime rate will rise, making it difficult to maintain order. In truth, the garrison itself often causes more trouble…… but since they’re dispatched from the Levanteia Central Army, they don’t take orders from me.”
“Is there yet another reason?”
The Grand Duke’s voice was cool, almost as if pressing me like an interrogation.
“Third. Colonial residents don’t legally have the freedom to move. Other lords sometimes send mercenaries or knights to reclaim escaped serfs from their lands. I don’t have the authority to stop them. Outside the walls isn’t my territory, after all.”
“……So you’ll just leave them to live in tents like that? It may be summer now, but autumn will come soon, and then winter.”
“Your Grace. Do you see that wooden building over there?”
I pointed to a spot behind the tent village. A faint outline of a three-story wooden building was visible. The Grand Duke seemed to notice it too, nodding once.
“I disliked seeing people live like that, so with the Crown Prince’s special permission, I hastily built that structure—even though it’s technically outside my domain. It’s a temporary facility for the refugees to stay in. But once we built it, word spread, and even more people poured in.”
“So it backfired.”
“You could say that. If you looked inside that building, it’s bursting at the seams. Ten or more people crammed into a small room, no space to move. I thought about building more, but that would practically form a refugee settlement on Blansk’s outskirts, and opposition was fierce again.”
A sigh escaped me as I spoke.
Blansk is less than one-tenth the size of Rasante. My mother always said Blansk is no bigger than the palm of one’s hand—but even ruling this tiny land, I constantly run into dead ends.
No matter which choice I make, some unforeseen and undesirable outcome always follows. Like squeezing one end of a long balloon, only for the other side to bulge.
And because of all this, neighboring lords don’t look kindly on me either. They openly complain that their serfs keep running away and camping before Blansk’s gates. “What’s the point of treating colonial residents well?” they ask. “It only makes them arrogant.”
My cousin, Iason, lord of the nearby great city of Rodisa, once said this:
“Lady Alisa. Do you really think doing all this will make your people respect you? No matter how much money you spend or how much mercy you show, they’ll never truly love or respect you. Not so long as you hold that Rasantia castle.”
I told him it wasn’t about gaining love or respect. I said I was only following my conscience and intuition. But Iason merely laughed and jabbed at my weakness.
“As I thought, Sister, you still need to grow more as a lord. Only then will Princess Emma feel at ease handing Rasante over to you.”
Remembering his sly smile made my jaw tremble.
I shook my head to scatter the thoughts.
The Grand Duke was silently watching me. His expression gave away nothing, but his gaze was sharp, his calm dark-violet eyes like the night sky, piercing right through me.
I forced a small smile.
“……At least it’s quiet at night. During the day, children from the tent camp swarm carriages passing through, begging.”
Again, the Grand Duke said nothing.
The soldiers at the city gate saw my carriage, saluted, and opened the doors.
The scenery changed as soon as we entered.
Even the sound of hooves changed—the dusty dirt road gave way to neatly paved stone.
The haphazard sprawl of tents vanished, replaced by quaint houses with triangular roofs and flowerpots of summer blooms set outside their windows.
Now, under the moonlight, it looked tranquil. But once morning came and people bustled about, it would be a lively, peaceful town.
The Grand Duke’s eyes widened slightly as he looked out.
“Quite different. Not at all like the Blansk my mother described.”
“Yes. We rebuilt it almost entirely from scratch.”
“……”
After three days of a ceremonial wedding, I was finally returning to my domain.
From today onward, I was no longer alone—yet somehow, the night air felt even heavier.
As soon as we entered the lord’s castle, Sir Julio was the first to greet us.
“My Lady, you’ve return—huh?”
He stopped mid-greeting, staring in astonishment at the Grand Duke beside me. He even raised the oil lamp in his hand closer, stepping nearer.
Tilting his head, he leaned toward me and whispered,
“My Lady, forgive me for asking, but… is this truly him? The one from the portrait…?”
“Yes. So finish your greeting properly.”
Sir Julio flinched, startled, and hurriedly saluted with his hand to his brow. Then, realizing his mistake, he placed a hand over his chest and bent a knee. Though long retired, his soldier’s habits returned whenever he panicked.
“I greet Your Highness the Grand Duke. I am Sebastian Julio. Please call me Sebastian. I’ll do my utmost to make Your Highness comfortable.”
Sir Julio spoke in Dvorka tongue. His pronunciation was stiff and awkward, clearly rehearsed.
“Thank you for coming to welcome me at this late hour.”
The Grand Duke answered in Levanteian.
“Oh, Your Highness! You speak Levanteian so well! These are the servants of Blansk castle—if you need anything, simply ask. They are diligent and trustworthy.”
Relieved that they could communicate, Julio gestured behind him.
The castle servants stood in orderly rows.
The Grand Duke bowed his head slightly toward them. Some of the sleepy servants rubbed their eyes, then blinked wide at the sight of him, mouths falling open.
I addressed them:
“You must be tired. Go rest. I’ll personally show His Highness to his chambers.”
“Yes, my Lady! Have a good night!”
Sir Julio’s booming voice rang out.
Taking the Grand Duke by the wrist, I led him into the main residence where my quarters were. Behind us, the orderly ranks dispersed into chattering clusters. By tomorrow, rumors would spread like wildfire through the nearby village:
That the lord had brought home the youngest prince of Dvorka as her husband—and that he looked almost inhumanly beautiful.
“Here, this will be your chamber. It was prepared in haste, but it should be comfortable enough.”
I pointed to the large south-facing window.
Unlike the harem of Yorca, where walls blocked the view even with windows, this chamber overlooked the gardens and fountains outside.
It had the second-best view after my own room. With the curtains drawn wide, there’d be no feeling of confinement.
“That garden outside is perfect for solitary walks. The fountain may be small, but when the sunlight hits it, it makes a lovely rainbow.”
“Yes.”
“Oh—an important matter. The annual budget allocated to Your Grace will be 2 million Lebel. If you need funds, speak to Moreno, the treasurer.”
“My own discretionary funds amount to…… 2 million Lebel?”
He asked in disbelief.
Why? Was it too little? Two million Lebel was about the same as my own personal yearly allowance. Perhaps unsurprising, given this was essentially a marriage sealed by money.
“It’s already been approved, so it can’t be raised right away. Spend it, and if you need more, ask. As long as you leave proper records and receipts, you may use it however you wish. Indulge yourself if you like—just avoid flaunting it before the commoners.”
“……Records and receipts?”
“I also keep records of every expense. It’s about running the budget transparently. I hope Your Grace will cooperate.”
The Grand Duke stared at me for a long moment, then agreed. Just then—
Knock knock knock!
“My Lady! My Lady!”
It was Sir Julio’s voice. What could he want, pounding at the door so late at night?
“Come in.”
The door burst open, and he rushed in. At his age—past sixty—he’d sprinted up three flights, panting heavily.
“My Lady, forgive me, but—there’s a wild boar loose in the village! The western farms are in chaos. What should we do?”
“Seems I’ll have to go out again. If you don’t mind, would you like to join me, Your Grace?”
I asked, and the Grand Duke looked puzzled.
“The lord herself goes to deal with a wild boar? Isn’t that normally the garrison’s job?”
“As I said, the garrison isn’t under my command…… ah, but there is one man who’ll listen to me.”
I thought of Mikel from the Blansk garrison. A good hunting companion, skilled with horse, bow, and spear. For a boar hunt, you need beaters—and Mikel was ideal. He’d grumble, but he’d come, even at dawn.
“I will go.”
While I was thinking of Mikel, the Grand Duke answered sharply.
His attitude had suddenly shifted. Just moments ago, he was questioning why a lord would go personally—yet now he volunteered without hesitation.
