Episode 13
At his wife’s gentle coaxing, Marquis Rinko finally grumbled and spoke.
“Yes, I’m the lord of this castle. Now that I’ve driven out every last one of those who were loyal to the former Duke, everyone with influence here is on my side.”
“Even the maids—we’ve made sure they’re all ours. Walter Richmond will never be able to seize control of this castle. The Duke will be treated like just another old relative and won’t dare oppose us. And when the time comes to get rid of him, we’ll deal with it slowly and carefully.”
With a soft tone, the Marchioness concluded and left the office. Someone was waiting for her in the corridor—Lady Isaac, the senior maid to the Dowager.
“Marchioness.”
But the Marchioness cast a displeased glance and walked past her without a word. Anger flickered in Lady Isaac’s eyes.
“How dare you treat the Dowager like this!”
At that, the Marchioness stopped, turned around, and approached. Clasping her hands together calmly, she smiled sweetly.
“And what exactly have I done?”
“You’ve been taking the maids from the Dowager’s quarters one by one. And now you’re even cutting back on her firewood?!”
“Oh dear. Has the Dowager complained of the cold, Lady Isaac?”
Lady Isaac finally snapped at her brazen response.
“Go and see how cold the annex is for yourself!!”
The Marchioness let out a low chuckle. Behind her, the maids all burst out laughing as well. After composing herself, the Marchioness wore a more serious expression.
“Winter is coming, isn’t it? Even I am having to save firewood right now. Please tell the Dowager to endure it just a little longer—for the good of the family. That way, we can all stay warm when the real cold sets in.”
Firewood being scarce in the Richmond ducal household? Not even a child would believe such an excuse. The Marchioness patted Lady Isaac’s shoulder affectionately before strolling away at a relaxed pace. The maids’ chatter sounded like open mockery.
Lady Isaac closed her eyes tightly and let out a bitter sigh. Her chest felt tight, as if something were stuck in it, and her body heavy, as if soaked in water. Her devastation deepened when she returned to the annex.
Neglected and desolate like the ruins of a fallen palace, the annex felt forgotten. The glory of its resident had long faded from everyone’s memory.
Eliza Richmond.
She was the grandmother of Duke Walter Richmond, sister to the late Emperor, and aunt to the ailing current Emperor of Venus. Her formal title was “Dowager Richmond,” but once, people had called her the “Queen of Richmond.” No woman in the Empire had held a more dazzling array of titles.
And yet, her residence was cold, dark, and lonely—more like a convent than a noble’s quarters. Trapped inside, she looked unmistakably like someone dying. Her arms, withered like ancient branches, and her hollowed neck covered in dry wrinkles told the story.
Many had once come begging for her help. To protect the Richmond house from the Rinko couple’s grasp. But Eliza could no longer rise. Even as the Marchioness and Marquis stripped away her authority piece by piece, she felt no anger.
“What use are family and honor now…”
Walter Richmond, the current Duke, was not Eliza’s biological grandson. The grandson she had loved dearly had died—with her son and daughter-in-law. All she had left after sending off her family was a gaping, black despair.
One day, amid swirling rumors about the Emperor’s declining mental state…
“Mother, please take care of the Crown Prince.”
Eliza’s son entrusted her with the Crown Prince—who was the same age as her own grandson—and took her grandson to the Imperial Palace. Perhaps because they shared royal blood, the two boys resembled each other enough that swapping clothes made it difficult to tell who was who.
“I’ll be right back, Grandma!”
But contrary to those last words, the boy never returned to Eliza—not even in death. His funeral was arranged by the Empress, and the young Duke’s body was entombed in the royal mausoleum under the name of the Crown Prince. Eliza received only the ashes of her son and daughter-in-law.
The thought of how scared and alone her grandson must have been in those final moments made it hard to breathe. With lifeless eyes, Eliza stared blankly into space.
“Dowager, the Duke is returning.”
“…”
“Wouldn’t it be best to prepare to greet His Grace?”
“I feel sleepy.”
“If His Grace returns, the Rinko couple surely won’t dare…”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“…”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.”
She no longer cared who ruled the house. She didn’t want to care about anything.
Eliza closed her eyes. All she felt was the pull of sleep.
Meanwhile, after completing the task Grace had assigned her, Jessie scratched her head, confused.
What on earth happened in just ten days?
“This fruit smells wonderful! You should keep it in the carriage!”
“I also picked some flowers while I was out—they were blooming all over!”
“Milady, how’s your arm doing? This is a special ointment made by our family…”
“You just mashed up random herbs to make that, didn’t you?!”
“Shut up if you don’t know! I crafted it with skill!”
Rough-looking knights were all crowded at the front of the carriage, raising their voices. Andrew pushed between them, waving his arms.
“Honestly, what is this ruckus?! Do you want to scare the Lady?!”
“Oy, you little—”
“Language! Mind your words in front of the Lady!”
“…”
“Captain, let’s be honest. That salve is just some random herbs you mixed, right? Take it back. And that fruit—nine times out of ten, it causes sneezing! I’ll only give her the flowers!”
Looking like a stern gatekeeper, Andrew glared at his senior knights. Watching the scene unfold, other knights quietly commented to the sons of Count Isaac:
“Seems like the youngest of the Isaac family is thinking about becoming the Lady’s full-time attendant.”
But Andrew’s older brothers just shrugged.
“She keeps getting all these gifts, I don’t know what to do with them.”
Grace smiled brightly as she hugged the bouquet. The knights nearby, busy checking their gear, kept glancing her way.
Ten days into their journey to Richmond, the knights had curbed their usual battlefield tongues, though not entirely successfully. Andrew’s constant scolding helped, and some knights were genuinely trying.
Sirius muttered as he cleaned his ear with a finger.
“Better to be a Lady’s attendant than a dead knight, I guess.”
Just then, Grace turned to the knight who brought the flowers.
“Sir Zeon, the fragrance is lovely. Thank you.”
“N-not at all!”
She never forgot a name, and despite the knights looking quite similar, she never confused one for another.
“Sir Isaac, I’ll take that ointment and the fruit too.”
When Grace asked for the gifts Andrew had blocked, the knights who brought them frantically waved their hands.
“N-no, it’s fine! We weren’t thinking!”
“Gifts are always a joy. Thank you.”
Grace placed the ointment and fruit inside the carriage, and Jessie—having just rejoined the group—shook her head at the sight of the mountain of miscellaneous things inside. And they really were miscellaneous.
Whenever the carriage stopped, knights brought food, blankets, or whatever they thought was fun. They meticulously checked whether Grace was comfortable. But though they meant well, they were all far from noble-like—except Walter.
Just as Jessie watched Walter’s back, Grace was also observing him. Every time his heavy cloak fluttered, his hair moved slightly too. Unlike the knights who hovered awkwardly around her, Walter hadn’t spoken a word to her the entire journey.
“Wait here a moment, Jessie.”
Grace smoothed her hair and stepped out of the carriage. The disorganized knights moved aside, creating a path.
A cold, woody scent lingered in the wind that brushed past Walter. As he sensed someone approaching and turned, Grace gave him a gentle smile. His eyes darkened.
Was it performance? Habit? Grace Taylor smiled so naturally—to him, to the others.
“First, I’ll win over the Richmond knights.”
A noble lady who’d likely never held a sword—how could she possibly win over battle-hardened knights? Walter had his doubts.
And yet, before they even reached the duchy, all 500 rough and rugged knights had warmed to her. Like dogs wagging their tails, they kept seeking her out, even picking bizarre fruits as gifts. Walter could only chuckle at the absurdity.
He muttered with a bitter smile:
“How light and flimsy those hearts turned out to be.”
It wasn’t jealousy. It was sheer exasperation.
