Spoils of War Duchess

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Is she finally the best prize of this war? The famous Ethel Lancaste.”

 

The slightly intoxicated voice of the Emperor echoed in the banquet hall.

 

Though it felt disheartening to be exhibited like a commodity in front of nobles who had recently bowed to her, Ethel poured all her strength into maintaining her usual composed and upright posture.

 

Even a slight loosening of the tightly held reins of tension would make her whole body tremble, and her shoulders feel like they might hunch.

 

‘I must not crumble until the very end!’

 

While reaffirming her determination, she unconsciously exerted force, and her fingernails dug into the flesh of her palm. Though she felt pain, she didn’t release the tension in her hand. Right now, even relying on such pain, she had to maintain a clear mind.

 

Ethel found herself in this position because her husband, the Duke of Lancaster, had ruthlessly lost to the Emperor while pushing for a rebellion akin to independence.

 

Becoming the wife of the disgraced Duke of Lancaster, enduring as the Duchess for a mere 1 year and 8 months, and even the Duke’s plans for independence—none of it was within her control.

 

‘Regardless, I am the Duchess of Lancaster. I must maintain a brave facade to make the end less tragic.’

 

The nobles, unaware of her inner struggles, needlessly made remarks.

 

“I would say she is as expected of a duchess. She is resolute even in this situation.”

 

“That’s right. Lancaster, who used to bite and blow and cause trouble, is much better than her daugher.”

 

“Such a regrettable figure. Too bad. Tsk, tsk.”

 

However, Ethel found such praise unappealing.

 

Occupying the front row in this assembly where people were being divided like spoils, were they truly feeling sympathy?

 

No doubt, in the end, even her composed facade, enduring instinctual fear, was merely an act for their amusement.

 

‘I never expected to receive this much attention until the last moment… What a splendid life.’

 

Suppressing a burst of laughter or tears that might come with a sudden thought, Ethel tightly sealed her lips.

 

To divert her thoughts from self-pity, she slowly scanned the corners of the banquet hall with her eyes.

 

She recognized many faces. Not just a few hurriedly averting their gaze upon making eye contact with her.

 

She knew too. Among those who met her eyes, there must be those empathizing with her situation, and yet, no one dared to voice those thoughts.

 

‘I guess it can’t be helped. What kind of disaster would you suffer if you took the side of a traitor’s wife?’

She didn’t harbor resentment. In reverse circumstances, she might have kept silent as well.

 

The ones she resented were her father, who callously handed her over like a gift to the aging duke driven by greed for power, the duke who concealed his rebellion plans even after marriage, the entire disdainful duke’s family that ignored and mocked her, and most of all, herself for not finding the courage to escape from all the unfair situations.

 

‘Noble responsibilities, duties, honor, and pride… Why did I stubbornly endure such things?’

 

Applying more force to her already clenched jaw, it felt as if her molars would sink. Of course, hardly anyone recognized her plight.

 

Emperor Demarcus Duverin finally spoke slowly, only after everyone’s attention had sufficiently passed Ethel by.

 

“Whom shall I award this to?”

 

As he turned his gaze towards the knights who had achieved great feats in the Duke of Lancaster’s command, a multitude raised their hands enthusiastically, far more than when the duke’s daughters were presented as spoils.

 

“I dare to request, Your Majesty!”

 

“Your Majesty! The number of enemy soldiers I’ve slain is probably over fifty!”

 

“Please disregard the lies of such fabricators! Instead, consider me, a widower. Your Majesty!”

 

“How about settling it through a duel!”

 

Pleas mixed with fervor surged.

 

Should this be called glory, or should it be termed as humiliation?

 

“Seems like everyone has thrown away their dignity.”

 

“Well, it’s understandable. After all, isn’t Ethel Lancaster praised as the perfect duchess even at a young age?”

 

“Then what’s the point? We’ve all fallen into the status of slaves anyway.”

 

“That’s even better! Is there a reason to disdain such a slave?”

 

Middle-aged noble men chuckled among themselves. Perhaps they all shared the same sentiment.

 

Watching the knights bicker as if enjoying themselves, Emperor Demarcus turned his head towards his accompanying guards, as if suddenly remembering something.

 

“Oh! Almost forgot we have the top contributor right here!”

 

In his gaze, a knight who served as the overall commander in this war, and boasted a record of a hundred victories, stood expressionless.

 

“Rasto.”

 

“… Yes, Your Majesty.”

 

His response to the Emperor’s summons lingered on the border between rudeness and formality, a beat too late.

 

However, Demarcus paid it no mind. In fact, he quite liked the indifferent tone that conveyed no hint of flattery.

 

“Don’t you need a woman?”

 

At the question that explicitly revealed Ethel’s purpose, the nobles who had a good relationship with her took a deep breath and frowned.

 

Well, it was to be expected.

 

The knights who had just pled for their choice were nobles, but Rasto Christceros was different.

 

‘Wasn’t he mentioned to be a mercenary? Well, what does it matter.’

 

Whether it was Rasto or other knights, they were all the same to Ethel, but to other nobles, it was a significant matter. Rasto represented the rising noble faction threatening the traditional nobility, after all.

 

At twenty-seven this year, Rasto Christceros, having gained the title of count through remarkable military achievements in the imperial conquests and dominating the largest mercenary guild, Caliophe, was hailed as the king of mercenaries.

 

Unable to criticize his military achievements, the nobles seized upon the fact that he came from a mercenary background as their chosen point of criticism.

 

‘Lowly butchers who’ll do anything for money.’

 

‘Those who would have become criminals if they hadn’t resorted to mercenary work.’

 

That was how nobles perceived mercenaries.

 

“Why, Your Majesty, grant the best spoils to that fellow of all people?”

 

“Indeed, Ethel Lancaster fell into utter ruin after one ill-fated marriage.”

 

“And now, the mercenary has risen. Lacking only the title of a count, he’s reduced a duchess as a bedroom slave.”

 

They were all convinced that Rasto Christceros would reveal a sinister intention.

 

However, his response was surprisingly nonchalant.

 

“Well, I do lack a maid at home, but…”

 

“Haha! Hahaha!”

 

Demarcus burst into laughter at Rasto’s reply.

 

“A maid? A maid? Are you suggesting to treat the former duchess as a maid?”

 

“Besides, there isn’t much use for anything else.”

 

“Ahahaha!”

 

Demarcus, seemingly pleased with Rasto’s response, laughed heartily before nodding approvingly.

 

“Alright, alright. Ethel Lancaster shall be granted to the struggling count Rasto Christceros, who lacks a maid!”

 

With that, Ethel’s descent into a harsh and cruel fate under the former mercenary had been decided.

 

Into the arms of the rough and ruthless man from the world of mercenaries.

 

As she was led away by the guards, the days leading up to this moment flashed through her mind.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Duke Lancaster has decided to take you as his second wife. The wedding will be in about four months, so hasten your preparations.”

 

Three years ago, in early summer when the garden was covered in flowers, a thunderbolt struck Ethel’s life.

 

“Father! I hate it, I truly hate it! Please reconsider!”

 

That day, Ethel, for the first time in her life, knelt and begged her father to reconsider.

 

Marrying the Duke of Lancaster, who was two years older than her father, wasn’t it natural for her to be unable to accept?

 

However, Ethel’s father, count Dustin Canyan, was furious and vehemently scolded her.

 

“Instead of actively advancing for the sake of our family, you can’t even accept this?! Do you know what hardships I went through to secure this position?”

 

For him, Ethel’s perspective was inconsequential. What mattered was solely the benefits he and his family would gain.

 

Sending his raised daughter into a prestigious family and having her refuse the marriage only ignited his anger.

 

Even though Ethel spent three days without eating or drinking and weeping, Dustin not only refused to cancel the marriage but also hurriedly brought various merchants to the mansion, citing the tight preparation period.

 

The countess, always favoring her sons, showed no sympathy to her despairing daughter.

 

“Ethel! Stop being so stubborn. Where else would you find a match like this?”

 

“But, this isn’t right, Mother! Duke Lancaster is older than Father, how can…”

 

“Then, among the men from the four major families, who do you think would be better? Choose.'”

 

The tone felt mocking, bordering on disdain.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thankyou for coming to this sites and read my translation, enjoy! Sorry if theres still have any mistake on the translation. See you on the next update!
Click bellow to support me on ko-fi.