Chapter 104
Beneath a star-filled night sky.
The northern tower, where criminal officials or nobles were imprisoned, was desolate as an empty wasteland. Nerys approached the soldier guarding the entrance.
“I’m here to see a prisoner.”
She didn’t know the soldier, but he seemed to recognize her right away. He bowed with calm politeness.
“Which prisoner are you looking for?”
He didn’t even ask her business or whether she had permission. If he had, she was prepared to use her jeweled eyes, but this made things simpler. Nerys smiled lightly and spoke a name.
“Karl Sidney.”
“Yes, right away. Archie!”
At the soldier’s crisp call, another guard opened the door from within the tower.
“Please follow me.”
The first guard gestured politely for Nerys to enter. Amused by their smooth efficiency, Nerys stepped forward.
The northern tower, like the rest of the castle, had beautiful white outer walls, but passing through the first floor’s doors, the mood turned immediately stark. After passing through two sturdy iron doors, a narrow spiral staircase appeared. The guard pointed upward.
A faint groaning could be heard from above.
“You’ll have to go up, I’m afraid. Please excuse the inconvenience, ma’am.”
The soldier spoke a bit awkwardly. Nerys nodded.
She climbed the narrow, steep stairs—deliberately designed to prevent escapes—without the slightest sign of reluctance. The oppressive atmosphere of a prison seemed to have no effect on her at all. The soldier, watching her light steps, looked momentarily puzzled.
Each floor of the northern tower was blocked by an iron door that could only be opened from the stairwell. After some time, they opened the door marked with a 4, revealing a hallway of solid brickwork.
On either side of the corridor, and at the far end, were identical doors, each with a small palm-sized window at head height.
“Cell forty-one.”
The soldier led Nerys to a door on her left and raised his torch to the tiny window.
It was a small, dirty, dark room. The space illuminated by torchlight inside the window was little more than a box, lit by a single cheap candle.
From the gloom, a figure moved slowly.
The once cheerful face of Karl Sidney was now gaunt and shabby. His wild, bloodshot eyes twisted sharply as he saw Nerys.
Nerys gestured at the soldier with her chin.
“We have matters to discuss. Please give us a moment alone.”
“I’m sorry, but our rules don’t allow a prisoner and a visitor to be left unattended together.”
As smoothly as he had acted so far, the soldier was just as firm now. Nerys smiled and met his eyes.
“If it’s about security, just take three steps back. I won’t hand him anything, nor will I take anything from him. At that distance, you can see everything just fine. I just want him to focus on what I have to say.”
The soldier’s eyes went momentarily blank as he met Nerys’s gaze. He relented. Three steps wasn’t a clear violation of regulations, so—well, what did it matter…?
Unconsciously, the soldier stepped back. Nerys had the guard keep the torch, just in case.
Watching their exchange, Karl asked gruffly,
“Is there anything left to say between us?”
“If I say so, then there is.”
Hatred and suspicion flashed in Karl’s eyes.
She expected as much, so Nerys held his gaze and then, just loud enough not to be overheard by the soldier, whispered,
“Answer my questions. You’ve got nothing left anyway—if you want to live, it’s your only chance.”
What? Karl was about to snap back, but his eyes suddenly clouded over. He reconsidered his situation.
An official working under that great duke—a proud title. The current duke, Cledwyn Maindulante, had allowed his officials more authority than any other duke in recorded history.
But Karl couldn’t be satisfied. He was of noble birth. More authority for officials meant less for the vassal lords under the duke’s rule, didn’t it?
That tyrant was trying to control all of Maindulante with his own hands.
The ducal seat, inherited by blood, could end up in the hands of a fool at any time, and when that happened, it was always the vassal lords and the elders who stood together to defend this land. Now all the elders were dead.
Abandoning that loyalty, bringing in commoners and nobodies, granting them unearned privilege—that was the duke’s mistake. He hated how Cledwyn favored a former serf like Aidan.
And now he’d even brought in that detestable little southern girl, placing her in the absurd position of advisor. She had to be taught a lesson.
If some fiefs suffered as a result… well, that was just poor judgment on their part. Their loss was a sacrifice for a greater cause—they should be proud.
With such twisted logic, Karl had tried to entrap Nerys. With his way with words, he rallied his colleagues. And just as he thought he was about to succeed—
She caught them all, as if she had seen through everything from the start.
Karl still couldn’t believe it. If only he had succeeded, he could have humbled the arrogant duke and proved the worth of noble blood.
Those idiots in the castle, sitting behind desks, could never hope to outdo the bond between the lords and their subjects, forged through generations of rule.
If the central government wanted its orders followed everywhere, it needed to appease the nobles.
But it was all ruined—because of this monster of a woman.
‘…Monster.’
The word echoed through Karl’s mind again and again. His fingers began to tremble with fear. His heart pounded wildly.
Yes, she was a monster. If he didn’t listen to her, who knew what would happen next. He might even die…!
Nerys hadn’t said a single threatening word, but in Karl’s mind, every detail twisted in a darker and darker direction. Tormented by doubt, he felt fear spreading up from his feet like rot.
At last, eyes wide, he pleaded as if making a confession.
“I’ll answer anything, anything at all. Please… spare me…!”
Nerys smiled faintly.
“All right. You didn’t really think you’d be living well here even if things had worked out, did you? Where did you plan to go if you succeeded? Who told you to do this?”
Less than five minutes later, Nerys was descending the stone steps with the soldier. In her mind, the name of the one who had dared risk the lives of the people just to tarnish the duke’s authority echoed over and over.
Hudis Tipian.
Cledwyn’s grandfather.
It seemed they were destined to face each other soon enough.
❖ ❖ ❖
“That Sidney fellow has lost his mind.”
Nerys pretended not to hear Talfrin’s comment. But Talfrin, undeterred, spoke again with a sharpness that cut through any pretense of indifference.
“He looked ready to confess everything, trembling like a leaf—even the name of the kid who lived behind him when he was five. You wouldn’t get that from a truth serum. He seems normal in every other way, but as soon as he opens his mouth, he spills everything.”
“That’s for the best.”
Cledwyn, reading the report Nerys had brought, cut in succinctly.
There was no way he didn’t know that ever since Nerys’s visit to the prison, Karl Sidney had answered every “question” put to him. In fact, Talfrin’s amazement was exactly because Cledwyn knew.
Nerys ignored the two men’s conversation.
Dressed comfortably in a white shirt and black pants, Cledwyn lounged on his desk chair. He was so tall and long-limbed that his legs stuck out in front no matter what chair he sat in, making him appear even more sprawled back than most people would be at a desk.
‘And yet he still looks elegant.’
This man was infuriatingly self-willed, and yet, for some reason, everything he did came off as dignified. Nerys knew that wasn’t something you could achieve just by trying.
She herself had worked hard in her past life to appear refined, but she could never look as effortlessly graceful as he did.
For some reason, that annoyed her. She forced down that feeling and waited for Cledwyn to finish reading the report.
After finishing the report on the aftermath of the Fecernon flood recovery, Cledwyn looked up at Nerys and smiled.
“Well done. Excellent.”
There was a faint sound like air escaping from somewhere. Nerys tilted her head, but since Cledwyn ignored it, she decided she must have imagined it.
“Thank you.”
“Are you uncomfortable living here?”
“You asked that this morning, too. I’m being treated more than well enough.”
“Shall we have dinner with Lady Truydd tonight, the three of us?”
“Again?”
Ever since Cledwyn returned, they’d eaten dinner together nearly every day, usually with Nerys’s mother included.
Having her mother there kept uncomfortable topics off the table, but Nerys wasn’t sure if this arrangement was normal. But she was slowly getting used to it.
At her reply, Cledwyn made a face like a puppy caught in the rain. Beside him, Talfrin made a silent gagging motion.
“You don’t like it?”
“It’s not that I don’t like it, but surely you’re busy.”
“I’m not busy at all.”
“You’re up training every morning.”
“Is the noise keeping you from sleeping? Sorry. I’ll have them keep it down.”
There it was again, that faint sighing sound. Was there a draft in this well-built room? Nerys cocked her head again.
“There’s no need to worry about training, and I get up early anyway.”
“Is it because you have so much work? Maybe you should cut back.”
In truth, Nerys did have a lot of work. But so did everyone else in the castle. By her previous life’s standards, even a low-ranking official here worked at twice the productivity of a mid-level official in the imperial palace.
But working a lot wasn’t so bad. It was fulfilling, and she still felt she needed to repay the advance wages she’d received for working her mother’s share as well.
So Nerys shook her head.
“No. I want to do as much as I can since you’ve entrusted me with such a responsible position.”
“See?”
This time, it wasn’t Cledwyn who replied, but Talfrin, squeezing in between the two.
“Did you hear that? That’s the attitude of a real official. Unlike some people who waste time having leisurely dinners when there are important meetings to prepare for.”
“If we’re working just to survive, shouldn’t we be able to spare time for dinner?”
Cledwyn’s face wore a perfect, mask-like smile. Talfrin looked delighted as he teased him.
“What’ll you do when you start preparing for the Harvest Festival? You won’t know if you’re working to live or living to work—like every year.”
“The Harvest Festival?”
There was nothing more important to the people than survival, so every region had its own unique way of celebrating the harvest and giving thanks to the gods.
From the way they spoke, it sounded like Maindulante’s harvest festival was a major event. But it was still summer, wasn’t it?
As Nerys tilted her head, Cledwyn smiled and explained.
“Summer here ends quickly and the harvest is early, so our festival starts sooner than in the south. And people gather from all over the duchy for two weeks of festivities, so we have to start now.”
Two weeks… No wonder preparation took so long.
“There’s a lot to enjoy. There’s a night market in town, fireworks every year. But this year I’m planning something special.”
“What is it?”
“A tournament.”
If someone used the word “tournament” by itself, it meant a martial arts competition—a contest where only the winners kept advancing. Centuries ago, many knights had shown off their skills in jousting tournaments, but nowadays such traditional events were rare except in special commemorations.
Seeing Nerys’s puzzled look, Cledwyn’s eyes curved with delight.
“It’s an important event. I hope you’ll watch closely, my advisor. I’m… very much looking forward to it.”
