TYND 37

Chapter 37

At the sudden change of topic, Walter—who had been staring at documents the entire time—lifted his head. He looked up at the ceiling with an expression impossible to read, then slowly shook his head.

“Gödel Kiel has been exiled to the temple north of the royal palace.”

“A temple? Is he becoming a monk or something?”

“No. He’s been assigned as a janitor.”

A janitor?

Whis opened his beak wide, glaring as if he couldn’t comprehend what he’d just heard.

“If that’s what they planned, wouldn’t execution be better? How could the great Duke Kiel be reduced to a janitor at some decrepit temple? Isn’t that far too humiliating?”

“Humiliating? I thought it was far too generous for a traitor. It seems you and I have very different standards.”

At Walter’s calm reply, Whis’s expression hardened.

Walter clasped his hands on the desk and rested his chin lightly on his knuckles, continuing in an indifferent tone.

“I wondered why Her Majesty made such a decision, but seeing someone like you, I think I understand. Lords value their honor more than their lives. Anyone who challenges the queen’s authority must be prepared to become a janitor in a temple.”

The dead leave no scandals, so they’re easily glorified.

If Kiel had been executed, some nobles might have praised him as a grand figure who stood against a queen with no true legitimacy.

Perhaps some would have even raised banners of rebellion again, claiming to carry on his will.

But a fallen man cannot become a symbol. Instead, he becomes an object of ridicule—an example, a warning. Lucy’s choice not to kill him but to turn him into a janitor was a clear message to the nobility.

Realizing the subtext, Whis cautiously asked:

“What happened to the duke’s family?”

“The eldest son has been demoted to serf. The second son, Athlind Kiel, is imprisoned. He said he’d atone for his father’s crimes in his stead.”

“Atoning? Isn’t that practically a death sentence?”

“I don’t know. Her Majesty said she’ll decide Athlind’s fate after today’s meeting, so we’ll have to wait.”

Vengeance breeds vengeance. Because of that, wiping out a traitor’s bloodline entirely is the surest way to prevent future trouble.

But Lucy chose a different path. She didn’t kill the heir, so she likely won’t kill the second son either.

Deep in thought, Walter tapped his intertwined fingers. In the haze of his mind, Athlind Kiel’s face appeared—nothing like Gödel Kiel. A sensitive, fragile one-eyed youth, the same age as himself.

He wondered what punishment Lucy would give him. When today’s meeting ended, perhaps he should escort Lucy to the prison—then subtly ask under the guise of duty. Perhaps he’d get an answer.

Walter checked the time, suddenly sighing and rising from his chair. He hadn’t noticed how close the appointed hour had drawn while buried in paperwork.

“It’s time. I’ll go.”

He asked Whis to organize the documents and headed to the adjoining room where Lucy waited.

* * *

For the first time in a long while, the conference room doors opened.

Two months had passed since Lucy proposed the cure for the epidemic, and half a month since Duke Kiel’s rebellion had collapsed.

The nobles gathered inside showed mixed emotions.

Those who had secretly supported Duke Kiel wandered the hallways with gloomy expressions, while those whose families had been saved by Lucy sat early, eagerly awaiting their new queen’s arrival.

Vanessa Rutherford was, of course, among the latter.

Not only had she never thought highly of Duke Kiel, but her daughter’s life had been saved thanks to Lucy. To her, the new queen was someone worthy of utmost reverence.

Thus, when Lucy asked her to help gather the local lords, Rutherford didn’t hesitate.

Thanks to her support, Kiel’s faction had been swept away—perhaps strengthening her own position even further.

Filled with quiet hope, she awaited the queen’s entrance with a bright expression. At that moment, Duke Wheaton approached and kissed the back of her hand.

“It has been a while, Lady Rutherford. I heard your eldest daughter has recovered. Is her health steady?”

“Thanks to everyone’s concern, she’s now preparing to return to society. She was wasting away just weeks ago, yet she recovered so fast… Truly, I cannot begin to express my gratitude for Her Majesty’s grace.”

“Well, perhaps Her Majesty suggested accompanying you because she was impressed as well. Still, exchanging jurisdiction over local residents so easily—humans aren’t objects to be traded, after all. Heh…”

Rutherford’s smile slowly faded.

Though he smiled, his tone was prickly. She hadn’t expected him to openly criticize her alliance with Lucy for defending the palace.

His languid voice dripped with jealousy and disapproval. Rutherford lifted her lips again, replying smoothly.

“How could I stand by when Her Majesty wished to restore order among the lords? Regardless of my support for her rule, it was only right to extend help to the one who saved my daughter’s life.”

“If that’s how you justify it, I have nothing more to add. But using local residents’ lives for such political dealings… I find it quite reprehensible.”

At the word reprehensible, Rutherford bristled and lowered her voice.

“You say amusing things. Her Majesty swore that not a single hair on the residents’ heads would be harmed. Who am I to gamble with their lives? I simply trusted our queen.”

“To fall for such sweet words… It seems you’ve grown rather lax.”

At his mocking tone, Rutherford’s eyes sharpened.

He never lost an argument. She grumbled internally, glaring at him.

“Let’s shift the topic. I believe you know well that there was no love lost between me and Duke Kiel. If his rebellion had succeeded, what do you think would have happened?”

“What else? Things would go back to how they were.”

“How could they? He knew I sided with Her Majesty. He would have purged me—my family, my vassals, and every resident tied to my businesses. That is the common treatment for traitors, isn’t it?”

She smiled faintly, watching him.

“Despite that, do you still think I was playing with people’s lives?”

Duke Wheaton opened his mouth to argue, then realized he had no response. His gaze turned cold.

“Hypotheticals… are meaningless. I only advise that you maintain decorum as a lord.”

Rutherford concealed her anger and smiled leisurely.

“It seems you’re quite upset that Her Majesty chose to ally with me rather than you, Duke Wheaton.”

At her taunting remark, Wheaton’s eyes lifted sharply. Rutherford snorted softly, unbothered by his hostile glare.

Ever since Duke Kiel’s fall, an odd current had run through the council.

Between Marquess Rutherford and Duke Wheaton—both contenders for the second most influential position—who would replace Kiel?

Rutherford acted quickly, taking the queen’s hand and aiding her.

Wheaton, however, hesitated—evaluating the situation even when urgency demanded action.

That was his downfall.

“Please sit. Her Majesty will arrive shortly.”

With a gesture of her fan, Rutherford motioned to the seat across.

Wheaton stared at her with a frosty expression, then irritably took his seat. Rutherford clicked her tongue softly.

Foolish Wheaton. If only he’d decided whether he was friend or foe.

Acting like a bat—neither here nor there—naturally made the queen distrust him.

“Looks like the duke is jealous of you, Lady Rutherford.”

Count Comte, seated beside her, fiddled with the lace on his gloves and spoke quietly. Rutherford covered her mouth with her fan and lowered her voice.

“Well, his only joy in life is envying and undermining others. He used to be so insecure around Duke Kiel—now he’s just switched targets.”

“I know he’s always been wary of you, but isn’t he going too far? I worry he may speak out of turn even in Her Majesty’s presence.”

“Don’t worry, Count. If he does, I’ll immediately counterattack. Do you think I’m someone who simply takes blows?”

Her confident tone made the count smile. He wasn’t surprised—Rutherford’s confidence wasn’t empty bravado.