“Pardon?”
Grace swiftly sorted through several documents and held them out to the official.
“The gold the Marquis embezzled is likely in the Steel Canyon. Organize these documents and report to His Grace immediately. He must review them and send men today if we are to minimize the leak.”
The official made a surprised face and hurriedly cradled the documents.
“Understood.”
As he disappeared, the next person stood before her.
“Please take a look at this.”
Grace quickly scanned the presented documents, then pointed to a spot with her finger.
“I believe it would be best to review this section alongside the documents Sir Lotus is examining. Please take it and look over them together.”
“Yes, understood.”
After that, Grace spoke with several more people.
Perhaps because she had worked without a moment's rest, her head felt feverish. As she took a sip of tepid water to soothe her mouth, she sensed movement beside her again. Feeling as though she were being pushed along by sheer inertia, she raised her head to see a completely unexpected figure smiling at her.
“Andrew?”
The boy's face shifted into a comical expression.
“My Lady!!”
At Andrew's booming voice, officials everywhere craned their necks. A smile formed on Grace's face at his blatant joy.
“How have you been?”
“Yes!! Have you been well too, My Lady?!!”
Count Isaac, standing behind Andrew, muttered, 'Has this boy swallowed gunpowder?' and smacked his son's robust shoulder, yet Andrew seemed not to feel the slightest impact. Count Isaac shot an embarrassed look over his son's shoulder.
“Of course, I have been well. You look like a different person seeing you like this. I'm glad to see you.”
“Yes!! Seeing that you are well, I am, extremely, happy!!”
A laugh escaped her at the boy's flushed face. Behind him, Count Isaac could be seen turning his back on his son as if to say he knew nothing of the matter. Grace quickly gathered her laughter and asked.
“What brings you here?”
“Well, it's— the Madam is calling for you.”
“The Madam?”
“Yes! She ordered me to escort you immediately. She is waiting.”
As he spoke, he turned to look at the officials standing behind him. The eyes that had looked gentle as a lamb before Grace transformed into those of a knight who had survived the wall of death.
“It's not as though Richmond lacks people to review documents. She said to make sure I bring you.”
His words carried a steely edge, and the officials who had been about to consult with Grace subtly gauged her reaction. Honestly, they were matters they could judge on their own; they had simply been standing there because consulting with Grace, who oversaw the vast array of documents, would allow them to handle things much faster.
Since Eliza was waiting, and Grace herself had been thinking she should rest for a moment, she turned to them and asked.
“Are they urgent documents?”
“Ah, no. We will handle them ourselves, Miss.”
As the officials withdrew, Grace placed the quill she had been holding into its case and stood. However, she heard Andrew muttering as he glared at the retreating officials' backs.
“Miss?”
“It's because I was struck from the Taylor family register.”
“……Pardon?”
Andrew looked at her with a shocked face. Grace glanced at him as she put on the coat Jessie had brought.
“My Lady?”
“So you shouldn't call me My Lady either, Sir. Call me Miss. That is correct.”
“……”
“Let's go. Please escort me to the Madam.”
Andrew could not bring himself to ask why. Instead, he suddenly assumed a stance filled with resolve.
“Yes, understood!!”
Grace smiled faintly and left the room for the first time that day, and the heavy sound of Andrew's boots followed her into the distance.
After a brief silence where only the sound of burning firewood remained, someone's dumbfounded murmur was heard.
“Someone needs to put a tail on Count Isaac's youngest.”
“Hah… hahaha.”
The hollow laugh that followed was, of course, Count Isaac's.
* * *
Winter had come to Richmond. The faint, tepid sunlight could not warm the chill in the air, and the trees trembled with only bare branches.
To cool her surging emotions, Marchioness Rinko stepped outside and inhaled the cold air.
Time passed oppressively.
Currently, within the ducal castle of Richmond were the heads and heirs of important vassal houses. Under the pretext of an “efficient handover,” the Duke had effectively prevented them from leaving the castle. Seeing the black-armored knights guarding the gates, even the faintest hope of being able to leave vanished.
In the meantime, the Madam tightened her grip on the castle's servants, establishing order. In just a few days, half of the maids who had attended her were stripped of their titles and expelled. Among the noble houses that had once been as obedient as her own tongue, some secretly begged the Duke for forgiveness and pledged loyalty, while others were punished and ruined.
“Did they trap us here, preventing us from leaving the castle, just to make us watch this spectacle?”
Having trapped them in a jar of poison, Eliza Richmond and the Duke were undoubtedly determined to kill them off one by one and freeze their blood with fear.
In this maddening situation, her sole remaining hope was her son.
‘Mother. Please endure a little longer.’
‘How can I endure any longer when I'm dying of anxiety? We must get out of this damned castle first if we are to plan for the future! If the Duke draws his blade in here, we're all dead!’
‘There is a way out.’
Her son's plan was bold.
It was as Emily Rinko recalled her son's plan and vowed to surely repay this humiliation that the agonizingly slow passage of time seemed to stop, and even the flow of cold air appeared to freeze. The Marchioness stopped mid-step and clenched her fist tightly inside her fur coat.
In the distance, she saw the instigator of all this.
“Marchioness, over there—”
“Yes. I see her.”
The woman she had killed tens of thousands of times in her imagination was walking gracefully, accompanied by a black-armored knight and a maid. Though Grace must certainly have seen them, her expression held not the slightest change.
“Chilling, isn't she.”
“Moreover, a vulgar woman who knows no honor. I heard she was struck from the Taylor family. Then she's not even a noble, is she?”
Flora, standing behind her, muttered in a voice laced with contempt. Andrew's shoulder tensed at the savage gazes of the Marchioness, Flora, and the other noblewomen.
“Shall I guide you down another path?”
“Don't mind them. Just ignore them.”
Andrew wondered how she could possibly ignore them, but Grace brushed past them as naturally as breathing. Seeing no reason to offer a polite greeting to those glaring at her, she intended to stop briefly before moving on, taking that as greeting enough.
“A vulgar wretch who knows no honor.”
At the vicious, biting words, Andrew, who was guarding Grace's side, halted and glared upward as though he would lunge at any moment.
“What did you just say?!”
“Sir Andrew Isaac. Mind your manners. Such unseemly, boorish behavior ultimately brings disgrace to the face of all knights.”
As Andrew tried to flare up again, Grace raised her hand to stop him.
“Sir Isaac.”
A silent war was in full swing. It would do her no good to cause a commotion.
The boy, who had bared his teeth as though ready to fight like dogs, let out an angry sigh at Grace's restraint and fell back. Grace turned her eyes toward her original destination and spoke in a flat tone.
“It seems you did not call for me, so I shall take my leave.”
But the Marchioness was not the only one harboring ill will toward Grace. Flora bared her fangs from behind the Marchioness's back.
“The name of the prestigious Taylor family is all old news now. To think that you, an unmarried woman, and one struck from her family at that, are dependent upon a man's household.”
“Even commoners would not act so.”
“Are you not ashamed before your ancestors?”
Grace, who had taken a step while ignoring them, faltered at the final words.
Are you not ashamed before your ancestors?
“Well. If my ancestors are watching over me, I don't think they would find me so shameful.”
The Marchioness let out a scoff of disbelief and clucked her tongue loudly.
“Shameless, and brazen to boot.”
“It's a good thing you're no longer a noble; if you were of the same rank as me, I would be ashamed too!”
It was then, as even Andrew—not to mention Jessie—was clenching his fists and letting out ragged breaths at the noblewomen's abusive words, that—
“Grace.”
A distinctive voice rode the cold wind. The faces of those uplifted by cruel delight hardened all at once, and Andrew's face brightened noticeably.
“Madam!”