Once again lost in his thoughts, Shagal snapped back to reality when he noticed Caria staring at him intently. He gave an awkward cough.
“Ah, I’m sorry. I was rambling again…”
“Isn’t it fine?”
“Pardon? What is?”
“It’s true, after all—you have an extraordinary face. With a face like that, you should have some pride.”
“Ah…”
Is that so? Shagal swallowed the sudden bitterness welling up inside him. He wanted to argue, but it was indeed true that he was handsome—he had no comeback. Deciding to drop the unnecessary chatter, he focused on his mission instead.
“Anyway, I received the report well. And the carriage?”
“I parked it nearby. I wasn’t sure where to take it. Oh, and here’s the check. I figured this would be easier for you to use.”
He handed her a checkbook issued in the name of the merchant group that handled gold coin exchanges. Instead of carrying money, she could just write the amount she needed, and the group would pay the amount later.
“Perfect. Then leave the carriage in front of the duke’s estate.”
“Just leave it there and go?”
“Got something urgent?”
“No, nothing like that…”
She must have gotten the carriage through the mercenary guild to ensure it was her personal property, not the duke’s family’s. Was it really okay to leave it out in the open? What if the knights seized it, thinking the duchess was trying to escape?
Caria, glancing at his worried face, scribbled “50 gold” on a check and handed it to him. Shagal’s expression immediately brightened at the unexpected bonus.
“Then why don’t you wait and grab a meal? I’ll be out soon.”
“Yes, ma’am! Right away!”
Shagal answered so loudly even the guards at the Pandéon estate turned to look. Then he walked off with a light step. Caria, seeing the power of a check firsthand, nodded in satisfaction and tucked the book into her coat.
Now that she had all the cards in hand, it was time to play the game.
—
—
“So, you’re saying you lost the duchess?”
“I apologize.”
“I’ve heard of the ‘Blue Wolves’ bravery… but it seems their reputation is a bit exaggerated.”
Rubidef Pandéon had been in an increasingly foul mood lately. The reason, of course, was his wife’s inexplicable behavior.
No matter how dissatisfied she was, what kind of noblewoman beats up the family’s knights using mercenaries?
And the fact that a member of the ‘Blue Wolves’—a group created by recruiting only the most skilled individuals regardless of status to eliminate bandits—had been taken down by a mere mercenary was nothing short of humiliating. He feared people would laugh behind his back if they found out.
Though it wasn’t really Julin Baltos’ fault, Rubidef had to scold someone or he’d burst from frustration.
“Butler! Has the duchess not returned yet? It’s been a day and a half already!”
As the duke shouted, the butler burst into the room, drenched in cold sweat under Rubidef’s fierce gaze.
“Y-Your Grace! The lady has returned!”
“Hah… And where is she?”
Clutching his throbbing temple, the duke motioned for the butler to answer. The man hesitated, stammering—he knew that revealing her location would only worsen the duke’s mood.
Under mounting pressure, the butler finally spoke. As soon as he heard it, Rubidef’s face turned ice-cold, and he stormed off in that direction.
“Wife, what on earth do you think you’re doing?”
“Oh, Duke. You’re late.”
Caria, calm and unbothered, was seated in the mansion’s main conference hall—a room normally reserved for formal meetings with retainers and not opened lightly. Today, it was open because Pandéon’s vassals were all scheduled to gather for a quarterly administrative meeting.
“I heard today was the quarterly meeting, so I came early.”
“Why are you sitting here? This is not a place for games.”
“I’m not free enough to play games with you, either. Am I not allowed to be here? There have been many duchesses who participated in state affairs in the past. It’s not exactly unprecedented.”
Suppressing his rage, Rubidef trembled while Caria responded coolly and casually.
Indeed, there had been duchesses who participated in such meetings—but that was usually during times of crisis when the household was struggling, and it often led to unwanted interference from the in-laws, which only worsened the situation.
Caria had purposely stayed away from such meetings, knowing Rubidef disliked having his domain infringed upon.
But now, showing up uninvited? It was clearly an act of defiance.
So this is how you repay me for releasing your mother. Rubidef thought her actions were petty and immature.
“She’s not wrong.”
At that moment, the conference hall door opened, and the third attendee entered: the Pandéon duchess dowager, dressed elegantly as if she had never been locked up by knights just days before.
Her sudden support of Caria caused both Rubidef and Caria to look at her with suspicion.
They knew full well the duchess dowager was not the type to speak kindly to her enemies.
“Really, not showing your face all this time—that was the real negligence. It’s good you’ve come to your senses. If you want the rights of a duchess, you should fulfill the duties first.”
Of course, as always, her words were veiled attacks.
You were too lazy to do your duties, so you don’t deserve the title of duchess.
That’s what she always said to Caria. Even though she had always been the one to block Caria whenever she tried to do anything.
In the past, Caria would have lowered her head in shame—but not today.
“As expected, the dowager has a keen mind. So your wits aren’t entirely gone yet.”
Caria replied with a bright smile, not a hint of anger on her face, yet her words cut like a knife. Rubidef grabbed his forehead in frustration as the two women traded barbs.
“Rubidef, let her sit for once. Let’s see how she does.”
“…Do as you please.”
He had planned to throw her out, chair and all—but at his mother’s words, he reluctantly relented.
Rubidef sat at the head of the long rectangular table, with Caria to his right and the dowager to his left. The hall was tense with silence until the doorknob turned again and another figure entered.
“The duchess?”
It was Count Hesis Ribne, Rubidef’s right hand and secretary. Adjusting his glasses, he looked at his usual seat—only to find the infamous duchess sitting there.
“She’s here to observe the meeting. Don’t mind her, Count Ribne. Take a seat.”
“…Very well.”
Though briefly flustered, Hesis sat a seat away from her, and soon noticed a mysterious envelope resting on her lap.
He narrowed his eyes, about to ask about it, when a loud voice interrupted.
“Ho ho ho! Sister! Long time no see!”
“Welcome, Viscount Delos.”
Viscount Delos—one of Pandéon’s vassals and the dowager’s younger brother. Seeing the large, buffalo-like man, Hesis frowned deeply.
“My, you look younger each day, sister! How do you age backwards?”
“Don’t tease me. My face is a mess these days from all the ‘stress.’”
“Is that so?”
The viscount, with his booming voice, embraced his sister joyfully, while she welcomed him as if it had been decades since they’d met.
Then, shooting obvious glances at Caria, they exchanged unpleasant remarks loud enough for her to hear. Delos pounded the floor for emphasis.
“Tsk. What has our niece been doing to let Mother’s heart be so troubled? Just say the word, sister! I’ll wipe them all out—man or beast!”
“No need to go that far. It’s not even a beast—more like a buzzing gnat. I can handle that myself.”
This—this was why Hesis disliked Delos.
He was neither young, wise, nor wealthy, and held little influence in the duchy. Yet he constantly flaunted his blood ties to the dowager and tried to assert dominance over the duke by calling him “nephew.”
He never contributed in meetings, only ever sniffing around to see what he could take.
“So pathetic…”
Then, a voice full of disdain came from beside Hesis. Startled, he turned to see Caria. She gave him a slight smile—one that masked a blade.
It was the first time Hesis had seen t
hat cold voice and sharp gaze. And deep in his chest, he felt something stir—not just discomfort, but dread.
