Chapter 26
“I ought to just—”
Victoria bared her teeth, but Anne gently took hold of her hand.
The angry mouth that had been ready to shout was silenced.
“Miss, please calm down.”
“Anne, how am I supposed to stay calm in this situation?”
Victoria huffed and puffed as she gathered the jewels she had brought. Anne gently soothed her, and they went to three more appraisal shops—only to receive the same results.
“Do they seriously think I’m some kind of joke? I mean, come on, I’m a Clayde! How dare a mere maid—!!”
“…”
Victoria, who had been shouting with clenched fists, looked back at Anne as if testing her reaction.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean you, Anne.”
A noble young lady worrying about a maid’s feelings—how absurd.
But she wasn’t wrong, strictly speaking. A master wouldn’t be punished even if they killed a maid.
Anne smiled faintly.
“Let’s go to a designer shop, miss. Let’s buy some clothes first.”
“With only three gold coins, what am I supposed to buy?”
“Just say it’s a custom order for the young lady of the count’s family. They’ll put it on the family’s tab.”
“Right! That’ll work!”
They headed to the biggest and most prestigious shop in Tegenes.
It belonged to André Chang, the top designer of the West, whose dresses were in such high demand that noblewomen lined up for months, often without success.
“Welcome.”
“We’re here to see the designer.”
Victoria elegantly raised her chin, speaking as she had been taught in etiquette lessons.
“Yes, I’m André Chang.”
A young man greeted them with a bright smile. Victoria turned to Anne, her face twisting.
“I’ve never seen this guy before.”
“Excuse me?”
Jewels and now dresses—both fake? Anne stepped forward on behalf of the stunned Victoria.
“Have you ever designed a dress for Lady Victoria Clayde?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Then, perhaps you received a commission or a visit request from the lord’s castle?”
“…No, I haven’t. What is going on?”
As Victoria fanned herself in agitation and paced around the lobby, Anne remained calm.
“Miss, please try to stay calm.”
“I am. I’m doing my best.”
“You’re doing great.”
“Yes, really. I’m being very patient. Hoo—hoo—”
While Victoria struggled to contain her fury, Anne explained the situation to Designer Chang, who was just as outraged.
“Me? That lady is supposed to be Lady Victoria? And someone claimed I designed that childish dress? Unbelievable!”
While the forgery itself was offensive, what enraged him more was the poor quality of the counterfeit being passed off under his name.
“You know how hard I worked to build my reputation, and now this… And to think a lady of the Clayde family wore that garbage—excuse me. The fact that you thought it was mine drives me mad!”
“It’s fine! I must’ve been blind to think this kind of dress was from André Chang!”
Anne massaged her temples as the two fumed and vented.
Patrick the butler and Head Maid May were the two pillars supporting the operations and housekeeping of the lord’s estate.
To even forge a designer’s work and pass it off as genuine would have required at least one of the two’s cooperation—most likely that of May, the head maid.
Fake jewels might be hard to distinguish from real ones at a glance, especially high-grade counterfeits. But the budget must have been processed as if they were real. There was no way the Clayde family would knowingly use fakes.
Which meant the embezzled funds must be massive.
Could the butler really not have known?
Patrick, as Anne had observed, was dedicated to serving Hannibal and took good care of the knights of the household. But when it came to household management, he tended to leave things entirely in the hands of the head maid. That alone kept him under suspicion.
The head maid held a critical position—she was responsible for managing the entire household staff. May, who had a close relationship with the other maids, treated them more like friends than subordinates. The maids, while intimidated by the butler, were generally comfortable around May.
Perhaps sharing the spoils of corruption had only strengthened those bonds.
Donna, Anne’s roommate, was kind but never stood up for Anne when May bullied her. Other maids with good hearts didn’t step in either; at most, they’d just look on helplessly.
Despite being in a border region, Tegenes wasn’t a backwater—it had a fair amount of trade and commerce. Yet the lord’s estate was strangely filled only with locals.
The rumors that the Clayde estate always lacked workers didn’t seem to be because of the location.
Rather, it was because the locals stuck tightly together and excluded outsiders.
Did the lord really not know?
Or had he closed his eyes to it? Because it was the illegitimate child, Victoria, who was being deceived?
“Mr. André, could you testify about this to the Viscount?”
“Of course!”
Chang’s eyes lit up at Anne’s request.
“Let’s go right now! I want to confront the people who dared sully my name. Do they think I’ll just sit back and let them ruin my career? Absolutely not!”
“Exactly! Let’s give them a taste of justice!”
Even in the carriage, Victoria and Chang kept ranting in anger. Turning her back to them, Anne looked out the window.
Even though this was a border city, the battles mostly happened near the border itself, so the city within the walls was as lively and splendid as any other.
Tegenes, with its oasis, was a bustling and vibrant trade hub.
Outside the city walls stretched vast dry grasslands and craggy rocks. To the south lay the desert; to the north, the edge of a dense forest.
Suddenly, she felt the urge to gallop across the plains on horseback.
Yes. Someday.
She had always longed for a peaceful life in a quiet place, but seeing that wide open view made her want to travel freely.
Either way, she needed money for independence.
The head maid earned double the salary.
Anne had tried to endure May.
She’d told herself it was because she was young, inexperienced, from a different background, didn’t know better.
She had made every excuse to endure.
But not anymore.
* * *
“You are the king of the West now, Hannibal.”
It had been a week since Sarah Clayde, his mother, had taken to her sickbed. When the deathly chill would no longer lift, she called her son to her.
“This land cannot be touched, not even by the Emperor. It is ours eternally, promised by the first lord’s pact with the witch Moira. Clayde lands belong to Clayde alone.”
“I understand.”
Sarah Clayde had long served as lord in place of Hannibal’s father. Even with illness seeping into her bones, she maintained her strict, dignified bearing.
“Outsiders envy this land’s riches. The Empire thinks our prosperity is a gift from a witch, but you know the truth. We keep our end of the bargain with Moira every year. That’s why—cough!“
She covered her mouth with a handkerchief, but Hannibal could still smell the faint scent of blood. He did not flinch, waiting silently for his mother to compose herself.
“Hannibal, never forget. Only those born and raised in Clayde lands will stand with you.”
Since the first lord of the Clayde family created an oasis in the desert with the help of the witch Moira, their land had constantly been under threat.
Monsters in the desert, the hostile Luto Kingdom beyond the plains, witches in the forest.
But none posed more danger than the vultures in the Empire itself, hungry for Clayde’s domain.
They didn’t understand what Clayde sacrificed to keep peace. All they did was slander and conspire behind its back.
They used the witch as an excuse to justify invading and ruling Clayde.
They accused the West of keeping too many soldiers under the guise of defending against monsters.
They claimed Clayde monopolized trade while showing no loyalty to the Emperor.
But when the witch actually threatened them, the Empire did nothing. The monster hunts always fell to Clayde’s armies. And the oasis—was solely the work of Clayde’s ancestors.
Even so, the Empire wanted their land.
How many spies had they caught already?
When Hannibal’s mother passed away when he was thirteen, he’d spent nearly a year in a daze—and in that time, his immaturity had nearly dragged Clayde and the West into ruin.
He touched his forehead, recalling that bitter mistake.
Anne Pero.
He still had the letter of recommendation from the Duke of Benton for her appointment as head maid in his drawer.
“Imperials are always like this. No one comes here without a reason.”
There were plenty of lands of milk and honey outside the West. Why would someone from the capital, from Edis Tara, come all the way here?
He shook his head.
He would no longer trust anyone. No longer be so easily fooled.
If not for his father wandering the social circles of the capital, Hannibal would have already declared independence.
Grumbling about Arthur Clayde’s seemingly endless life, he approved yet another funding request from his father.
“Lady Victoria has just returned,” Patrick, the butler, reported shortly after a maid brought word.
Not long after, Anne arrived at his office—with Victoria and André in tow.
* * *
As soon as they arrived at the estate, Anne, Victoria, and André headed straight for the viscount’s office.
“What’s the meaning of this?”
Next to aide Jack stood Patrick, who had come to give his evening report.
Anne hesitated for a moment, but then confidently stepped inside with Victoria and André.
Clayde looked at Anne suspiciously at the sight of the noisy trio.
“I am accusing Head Maid May of fraud and embezzlement.”
Knowing that Clayde would almost certainly trust May more than her, Anne didn’t hold back—she immediately opened the jewelry box she’d brought.
“All the clothes, jewels, and accessories the young lady has worn until now—are fakes.”
