Translator: Nox

Ch#53

“We’ve arrived!”

“Auntie! Pudding, please!”

The youngsters spanned ages from about five up to almost ten.

The sudden uproar drew cheerful shouts from the rest of the room, as if this were a well-worn routine.

“Pudding, quick!”

“Goodness, you rascals!”

Marie and Jacques leaped to their feet in surprise. Marie hurried to soothe the group, while Jacques offered me a sheepish look.

“My apologies, Your Grace. The children swing by for treats around this hour.”

“No trouble at all. Really.”

“Everyone, hush now! Over here—I’ve got pudding for you.”

Marie pressed a finger to her lips in a bid for silence, but it only whipped them into greater frenzy.

“Nope!”

“What kind today? I missed out yesterday, so double for me!”

“Hush! We have a distinguished visitor—keep it down!”

“Distinguished visitor?”

“Hey! Look—a goddess right there!”

One little one jabbed a finger my way and yelled.

I snorted, spraying pie straight onto Norton’s face.

“N-Norton! Oh no, I’m sorry! You okay?”

“I’m all right.”

With steady composure, he dabbed at his dripping features using a handkerchief.

“Where?”

“Right over there. She resembles a goddess perfectly!”

“No wings, though!”

“She’s concealing them around strangers!”

Their pure, guileless prattle set my ears aflame with mortification.

“Don’t you dare snicker, Cecilia.”

“Snicker? Perish the thought—I’d never be so rude.”

Her quivering cheeks betrayed her. I fixed her with a stern stare.

In that moment, a smaller child slipped past Marie’s grasp and dashed straight to me.

“Miss, are you a goddess?”

As the tot clutched my skirt’s edge, Norton’s fingers twitched toward his blade.

“Norton, easy now. Lower your hand.”

“Forgive me, Your Grace.”

I crouched to his level, eye to eye. A crusty snot trail marred his cheek, though he otherwise appeared tidy.

“No goddess here. Just a duchess.”

“A duchess? What’s that?”

Fair point. What was a duchess, exactly?

Words failed me. A duke’s spouse? Mistress of the ducal household? Both rang hollow, given my mere year-long arrangement.

My gaze drifted to the wall menu, spotting the fiery tomato stew.

“Hmm… a fan of tomato stew, perhaps.”

A whimsical reply, yet the boy accepted it without a blink.

“Me too! Though pudding wins for me!”

“Does it?”

Those plump cheeks proved irresistible. I pulled out my handkerchief and cleaned the snot from his face.

“Jacques, pudding for the children, if you please.”

“Right away, Your Grace!”

As Jacques scurried to fetch it, I rounded up the brood.

“Leta, any loose coins?”

She fished some from her pouch and passed them over. I handed each child an eknang.

“A little gift because you’re all so charming. Treat yourselves to something sweet soon, alright?”

The elders, sensing my status, flushed with timidity. The young ones shrieked delight and snatched the coins in a flash.

Urged by Marie, they dipped into profound bows before dashing off, giggling, to devour their pudding.

“Local children?”

“From the orphanage close by.”

“Truly?”

The revelation caught me off guard.

They carried none of the typical orphan’s tattered, destitute air.

Catching my astonishment, Jacques offered a soft smile.

“The Duke funds it himself.”

“Plenty lose parents to monsters up here,” Norton added evenly. “The Commander rescues them on patrols and brings them in.”

Orphans abandoned in this unforgiving northern wilds… I eyed the group at the corner table, blissfully spooning pudding. Relief washed over me.

“Pudding just for them?”

“Partly. It began with scraps, but now they’re our best patrons.”

Such compassionate souls.

“Is it safe for them to roam freely?”

Cecilia wondered.

“That age brims with vigor.”

Marie grinned.

“Confine them, and they’ll wreak havoc. Better they play where we can watch.”

“But don’t they have minders at the home?”

“Never sufficient staff. Even after early meals, chores pile high.”

Managing an inn solo sounded taxing enough—yet they nurtured these waifs too.

A surge of respect bloomed for the pair.

And here I’d whined daily about ducal tedium.

Did I merit the title of duchess at all?

Small wonder I’d faltered before the child’s query on what a Grand Duchess entailed.

A quiet shame settled in.

---

“This recipe’s bound to be a sensation!”

Cecilia declared with conviction as we departed the inn.

Norton muttered from behind, though the rest nodded in unison.

Twilight had deepened outside.

Pausing at the carriage, I glanced back. Morina lingered in the gloom, diminished somehow.

“Sir Norton? We’ll drop this young one home first. Morina, hop in.”

The girl, mid-bow, startled and shot a look at Leta.

“N-no, Your Highness. I couldn’t impose…”

“Night’s fallen.”

Leta shifted uneasily, eyes flicking between us. Duty bound her, yet she hated sending her sibling alone into the dark.

“Quick jaunt by carriage, yes, Sir Norton?”

“Where’s home?” he asked Morina.

She recoiled, recalling his earlier blade, so Leta spoke up.

“Jennin Street.”

“Not precisely en route,” Norton noted to me.

“Inside,” I pressed Morina.

“Would you have them brand me a heartless Grand Duchess?”

“N-never, Your Highness!”

Thus, the carriage rolled off bearing me, Cecilia, and the sisters.

The path jolted roughly, silence thick.

Cecilia pored over her recipe scribbles; the siblings sat opposite, hands clasped tenderly—devotion evident.

What of my own sister and me?

I groped for a fond recollection from my prior life, but scant warmth surfaced.

Here, Ladriel? Only her nips lingered in memory.

“You two share a deep bond.”

Leta caught my gaze, mustering a rare, hesitant smile.

“We lean on each other alone.”

No parents?

My blink of shock prompted her to duck her head, as if regretting the slip.

How little I knew of my attendant, truly.

Then we reached Jennin Street.

The lane loomed ancient and worn, shadows denser than pitch.

“Thank you ever so much for the ride home, Your Highness!”

“You earned it. Off you go.”

At my wave, Morina bowed repeatedly, spared Leta a final look, and bolted.

“Back to the estate.”

As wheels turned anew, her tiny form melted into the murk.

Unease prickled.

“Wait—halt the carriage.”

Leta rapped the wall; we braked.

---

“Three eknang!”

Morina bounded through the shadowed lane, alight with glee.

Errands all day seldom yielded even one.

Yet pictures alone had netted three!

Suppressing joy before the Grand Duchess, she now cavorted up the worn steps.

Nearing her family’s dim alley—

As her hand stretched for the door, shadows birthed two men.

“Ahh!”

Too late to flee; one snagged her ponytail.

“Lucky night, eh, girlie? Out so late?”

“Some starve through the dark ’cause someone pinched our coin.”

“Release me!”

Her scream rent the void, but silence swallowed it.

“Calling neighbors again? Rotten luck.”

The second chuckled, seizing her collar.

“We scoped it. No do-gooders tonight.”

“Time’s on my side!”

“Sure is. Plenty for your lesson. Interest hikes next month.”

“What?! Unfair!”

Morina gaped. One sneered.

“My turf, my rules. Sis at the Duke’s castle? Have her filch cutlery to pawn. Or maybe—ugh!”

His words choked off.

Morina reeled, uncomprehending.

“W-wait! Gah—”

Dull thumps echoed, then slumps of flesh.

Norton loomed above.

“S-Sir Knight?”

“You unharmed?”

His face held its customary poise.

The bullies sprawled crumpled, felled by his raw might.

Blade untouched.

“Oh my…”

Morina gaped.

“Sir Knight… you bared steel at me, but not for scum like these?”