Chapter 60
“The Lord will eventually marry a fine lady. Imagine how lucky the woman who weds him will be.”
“Right? He’s so tall and handsome. No one in the West could ever measure up.”
“They say the Count keeps introducing noble ladies from the capital. Head Maid, do you know anything?”
The commoners were easily stirred by rumors about nobles. Anne, having nothing solid to offer, scratched the back of her head.
“Well… I wouldn’t know.”
With no proper answer, the chatter was filled with vague hearsay. Anne sat quietly, her left hand folded neatly while her right wrist was still held as if remembering.
It was the hand Hannibal had grasped.
Big and rough. Elegant noblemen never truly held swords long enough to grow calluses.
Even Grey, who had trained for years at the Academy, had smoother, finer hands than his.
Those hard joints, that coarse backhand. The palm that had been so unusually warm—Anne could still feel it vividly, as though it had just been in her grasp.
A small glance out the carriage window, and she could see Hannibal leading at the very front.
His silver hair gleamed under the morning sun. Anne thought it dazzling to look at the back of his head.
She stared for quite a while until suddenly, Aunt Natalie tapped her on the hand.
Turning back, Anne found the carriage full of chatter about Sandor.
“Why on earth did the young lord of Sandor pick a fight with the Head Maid?”
“And even went as far as lying about it. What punishment will he face, I wonder?”
“But he’s still a noble. Do you think he’d actually go to prison? The Lord only yelled so he would reflect.”
“Have you ever seen our Lord speak empty words? They said he even tried to kill someone. Even if he’s a noble, he must bear responsibility for his crimes.”
“Ha! As if a noble would be held accountable. He’s the young heir of the Sandor Viscounty! I hear their family manages nearly all the southern estates.”
Anne listened in silence, and when the chatter paused, she spoke softly:
“To nobles, attempting to kill a maid hardly counts as a crime.”
At that, everyone let out long, heavy sighs.
“Well, that’s true.”
“It’s you who must feel the most troubled, Head Maid.”
“You came back alive. That’s what matters. Just live well—proudly, so they can see!”
The simple words of comfort and encouragement gave Anne a surge of strength.
“Yes. I’ll do just that.”
In the distance, the Lord’s castle came into view. Soon, she would see Victoria again.
As soon as they passed through Tegennes’ gates, the commoners dispersed back to their homes.
The knights, Sandor, Anne, and Hannibal continued on toward the Lord’s castle.
It was the final day of the festival, so the streets still carried a festive buzz, people’s faces lit with joy.
But once they stepped into Tegennes Castle, the mood shifted—the inside was strangely quiet.
“No banquet at the annex today?”
“By now, there’s usually music blaring.”
Anne, hearing the knights murmur, also glanced around curiously as she alighted from the carriage.
At that moment, the butler and servants came out in welcome.
From among them burst a woman in a flowing gown, her silver hair flashing as she rushed forward.
“Anne!”
“My Lady—you’re unharmed?”
“Of course! How have you been? …Where’s Lord Sandor?”
He wasn’t in sight, bound and kept in another carriage. Anne hesitated before replying.
“Uh… he’s in the last carriage.”
“Is that so? I see—”
Soon enough, he would be dragged out, tied with ropes.
Before Anne could voice her unease, Victoria was already dashing toward the entrance.
Anne, smiling faintly, turned and found herself facing the butler.
“Anne, you’ve returned safely.”
“Yes, Butler. But isn’t it unusually quiet today?”
Looking around as she asked, the butler lowered his voice.
“The guests left yesterday.”
“I thought they planned to stay for the whole festival. Did something happen?”
Before the butler Patrick could explain, Count Arthur came grumbling into the lobby.
Anne glanced at the butler, wondering if the Count too had come to greet them, but Patrick shook his head firmly.
Count Arthur strode straight toward Hannibal, his tone sharp with anger.
“The Kingdom of Luto has sent the Empire an official letter of protest. What did you do, Hannibal?”
A sheet of paper fell to the floor. Anne quickly bent down, picked it up, and handed it to Hannibal.
Even if he couldn’t expect a warm welcome, Anne hadn’t thought he’d be humiliated so openly. And right there in front of the gathered servants, no less.
Of course, Count Arthur had chosen this very moment deliberately.
“It was nothing more than an incident within my own territory,” Hannibal replied.
“And yet you let the Emperor receive a letter of protest? How am I supposed to return to the capital and face this?”
“This is a Western matter. Father, go back to Idith Tara. I’ll make sure your party funds don’t run dry.”
“So it’s you, Hannibal Clayde, who’s ruining the West—not me. Since you became lord, nothing has gone right in these lands.”
He jabbed his finger, dismissing the well-being of the Westerners as though they were nothing.
“Because of you, His Great Majesty the Emperor of Haiman is furious over Luto’s protest letter. Instead of being grateful for the Empire’s protection against monsters, you stir trouble and bring chaos!”
“It isn’t the Empire’s protection—it’s the West guarding the Empire’s borders. Not a single Imperial soldier is stationed here.”
“That’s because the Emperor trusted the West to handle it! But now, with results like this, His Majesty’s patience has run out.”
“…And what then?”
At last Hannibal’s sharp gaze turned wary, catching the change in his father’s tone.
“The Imperial army has grown. Better to use that strength against an enemy than waste it in the Princes’ infighting. His Majesty has decided to punish the Kingdom of Luto, who dared send that protest letter. Know this.”
“Father, have you gone mad?”
He was calmly declaring he’d let Hannibal’s homeland become a battlefield.
Anne had always known Count Arthur was indifferent, but to be so devoid of duty or responsibility—this was staggering.
Hannibal glared, but the Count simply finished his piece.
“Argue all you like—it won’t matter. The Emperor’s forces are already marching south.”
South—toward Sandor’s lands.
“Untie him this instant!”
Victoria’s furious voice rang out just then.
When the carriage door opened, she saw Dello Sandor bound tightly and nearly exploded with rage.
“Bring him here.”
At Hannibal’s order, the knights dragged Sandor out, carefully avoiding Victoria’s wrath.
“Victoria! I swear I’m innocent! Anne Pero framed me! That vile maid is the reason for this! Believe me, Victoria—I’ve done nothing wrong! I even went to the Witch’s Forest to prove my sincerity!”
Sandor cried desperately, every word a lie.
At Hannibal’s signal, the knights gagged him. Then Hannibal spoke coolly:
“Dello Sandor pushed Anne Pero deeper into the forest. Had I not intervened, she might have died to the monsters there. That is attempted murder. And the supposed accidental death—evidence shows Sandor arranged that as well.”
“…Impossible. You must be mistaken, Brother! Lord Sandor was here in Tegennes the whole time. How could he kill a mother and daughter coming up from the south? Anne, tell me. Did he truly commit these crimes?”
Victoria trusted Anne—no one else.
But she desperately wanted not to believe Sandor was guilty.
Anne met Victoria’s eyes, her voice trembling.
“…I only told the Lord the truth.”
If this love could make Victoria happy, Anne would gladly support it.
They hadn’t spent long together, but in serving her, Anne had learned and shared much—more than enough for loyalty to grow.
But not with this man.
After returning from the Witch’s Forest, Anne was more certain than ever.
“My Lady, I swear I do not lie.”
“No! It’s her—the maid’s outrageous lies! How many times must we suffer this? All the women of Idith Tara are liars!”
Sandor shouted from behind, but Hannibal cut him down coldly:
“Ridiculous. The witch herself declared every one of Sandor’s prayers to be lies. Do not believe him, Victoria.”
Victoria’s eyes, clouded with confusion, shook violently at the mention of the witch.
“Lies! The Lord has been deceived by Anne Pero! He held her hand in the forest—they’ve been conspiring all along! And now, in the witch’s name, you mean to discard me? I am innocent!”
Sandor lurched forward, clinging to Victoria, sobbing into her skirts.
“The truth will come out. I can at least prove Anne Pero entered the forest—and that Sandor was involved. Once the investigation into the ‘accidental’ death is complete, I will confront your guilt again.”
“And what of this humiliation, being bound like a criminal? I am innocent!”
“…Is that true?”
Victoria’s voice trembled.
At that moment, Count Arthur, who had been watching with narrowed eyes, finally stepped forward.
“The boy speaks true. Untie him. A noble should not be treated so.”
“Don’t.”
At Hannibal’s sharp word, the knights, who had hesitated under the Count’s command, froze in place.
“Hannibal!”
Ignoring his father’s bared teeth, Hannibal turned to Victoria.
“What shall we do, Victoria?”
In an instant, every gaze in the hall turned to her.
