He shook his head with effort, trying to rid himself of vague emotions, as the vassals began arriving one by one and taking their seats in the conference room.
“Wait, why is the Duchess here?”
“Your Grace, is there something special scheduled for today?”
“Good grief… What would the Archduke’s daughter know about the Pandeon domain to attend such an important meeting…?”
“Well then, since everyone seems to have greeted each other, let’s begin the meeting. First, the issue of this year’s tax revenue.”
Rubidov forcefully began the meeting, ignoring the vassals’ complaints and questions. Of course, he didn’t object to their rude remarks toward Karia, either.
The expressions on the vassals’ faces were sour, but none of them could openly oppose the lord’s decision.
Regardless of who came or didn’t, the meeting had begun. Initially, people kept glancing at the Duchess, but as discussions progressed, attention shifted toward the issues at hand.
“This year’s firewood should come from the northern forests! The southern woods have been overcut the past few years—it’s practically all flatland now!”
“Have you forgotten that the northern forests are swarming with wild animals like bears and wolves? If the trees disappear, those beasts will come down and attack the villages. How can the people live in fear like that?”
“Until midwinter, the people can chop their own wood. What we need right now is food! With this year’s harvest, we’ll all starve before winter ends!”
The main focus of the meeting was, of course, how the domain would survive the winter. Most of Pandeon’s lands suffered long winters, and every year the concern wasn’t how to live better—but simply how to survive.
Karia, however, didn’t hide her discontent as she watched them argue with spit flying. With just one of their coat buttons, a peasant family could survive the winter—yet they had no intention of opening their storerooms, only scheming to take from others. How could any compromise be reached like this?
She let out a deep sigh at the pathetic scene. Observing her from afar, Marquis Delos finally spoke up.
“Duchess, you’ve attended the meeting but haven’t said a word.”
All eyes turned to Karia. And just like predators spotting easy prey, the exhausted debaters pounced on her.
“Surely, the Duchess enjoys warm meals and soft beds in her mansion. Would she care about how the people survive winter?”
“Indeed. If the Duchess really cared for the people, wouldn’t she have sought help from the imperial family? Isn’t she the precious youngest daughter of the Grand Duke?”
“The retainers were thrilled to see a royal marriage alliance—but what have you accomplished in the six years since?”
They poured out complaints and sarcasm, loud enough for her to hear. Clearly, they didn’t fear the so-called “precious jewel of the Grand Duke.”
At this point, a normal person would’ve shrunk or left in tears. But the Duchess simply smiled lightly—and responded ever so calmly.
“Well, I believe His Majesty the Emperor has been more than patient already.”
Though her expression was gentle, her words were sharp as blades.
“The taxes paid from Pandeon are nearly all returned as winter relief. From the imperial point of view, there’s no gain in supporting this land. Yet all you ever do is whine and complain to the Crown. What more do you want?”
It was a blatant insult to everyone present. Technically, insulting Pandeon was like insulting herself as its Duchess, but Karia didn’t care.
No one here treated her like the Duchess anyway. She spoke from the perspective they truly feared—the royal one. Who could object?
But the old nobles, seasoned in politics, wouldn’t back down so easily.
“T-That’s because of our circumstances! Pandeon is part of the Empire—shouldn’t the wealthy Crown help us a little? Isn’t this all because of the civil war and the Empire’s division?”
“Let’s be clear. Help implies mutual benefit. But Pandeon has always been a drain. It’s like pouring water into a bottomless jar. And don’t get me started on that old war—how long will you keep using a century-old conflict as an excuse?”
Those who didn’t back down were personally silenced by her.
The vassals, unable to refute her truth, clenched their fists and trembled in silence.
Just as their eyes turned to her with resentment, Marquis Delos jumped in, seizing the moment.
“Then, Duchess, what do you propose we do about the coming winter? If you’re going to criticize the vassals, you must at least offer a solution!”
“Well, we could start by replacing those gold buttons on your coat with copper. That should cover the cost of firewood for the people.”
At her sarcastic reply, the Marquis’s face turned red. Somewhere in the room, a chuckle escaped.
He looked around, eyes blazing, trying to find who had laughed, but Countess Hesis Rivne simply maintained a calm and serious demeanor.
Karia continued, her tone relaxed.
“And next, we catch the rats.”
“Rats? Rats?! After all that thinking, rats is what you came up with? How much could a little rodent even eat?”
“Well, perhaps it’s because Pandeon’s storage rooms are so old that the rats have grown quite… robust.”
Scoffing at his shallow mindset, Karia handed a document envelope to Count Rivne, who was seated beside her—not because she particularly trusted him, but because he was closest.
Ideally, she’d have made enough copies for everyone—or even rained them down from the rooftop for dramatic effect—but she didn’t want to waste this perfect opportunity to deliver the news herself.
As expected, Count Rivne’s face turned ghostly white upon reading the papers.
“Duchess, what is this?”
“Oh, just some research I did after hearing that one little rat had grown fat on gold and was now pretending to be human. Even bought a title. Isn’t that right, Baron Devon?”
She called into the air, naming someone who wasn’t even present. The Dowager and Marquis Delos’s expressions cracked.
“H-How did you know that?!”
The Dowager, who had managed the Ducal estate for decades, had embezzled funds to buy a barony in a remote region, under a name so obscure hardly anyone in the Empire had heard of it.
She then manipulated taxes by pretending to import local goods at high prices from this barony, thereby underreporting profits and avoiding taxes.
The vassals snatched the documents from Count Rivne’s hand and began reading. As more people read, the confusion and outrage in the room only deepened.
“What… what is this?”
“Are you saying the Dowager has been stealing from the Ducal estate all this time?”
“Barony of Devon? I’ve never even heard of such a place!”
“She took the most winter support from the estate and then shamelessly evaded taxes! And look—Delos Marquisate, Count Kaufmann, Baron Candice… all areas managed by her relatives!”
Voices filled with betrayal erupted. Their eyes, now burning with hatred, turned to the Dowager. She realized something was wrong and grabbed the documents.
No—it couldn’t be. She’d chosen a completely unrelated family and handled everything cleanly. How could this be exposed?
But the documents listed every amount in detail. Her face turned pale, and she began to stammer.
“I-I don’t know anything about this name! Rubidov, this is slander! That wretch is trying to frame me! It’s lies! Lies! Please, believe me!”
“My, my. You seem terribly shaken, Dowager. That cold sweat… I suppose you didn’t notice because the investigation was quick. I should’ve given you a heads-up. My mistake.”
Karia responded sweetly, her voice utterly devoid of sincerity, taunting the Dowager. The older woman screamed and pointed at her in fury.
“You low-born wench! How dare you speak to me like that?! You wretched thing—trying to ruin me! That’s it! It was you! You planned this to destroy me! Vile thing! That’s why I opposed your marriage so fiercely!”
“If only you’d opposed it a little harder. That would’ve saved me a lot of trouble.”
Karia allowed herself a moment to imagine how blissful her life might have been if the wedding had fallen through due to fierce opposition.
But did the Dowager even oppose it? With the massive dowry Karia brought, the coffers had overflowed—she had likely been thrilled to skim freely.
The vassals began hounding the Dowager with accusations. She clutched her neck, crying about high blood pressure. The conference room descended into chaos.
Then, the Duke of Pandeon, who had been silently listening, slammed his fist onto the table.
“Everyone, silence!”
The deafening bang shu
t everyone up. The Duke spoke, wringing out the last of his patience in a composed voice—though its trembling revealed his own turmoil.
