Spoils of War Duchess

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ethel, who sighed quietly, continued the meal without a response, and Lauren and Daria seemed to have lost their composure without exchanging words.

 

And how much time had passed?

 

“Lauren Lancaster! Come out!”

 

Before the morning passed, they handed over Lauren to Antes.

 

Shortly after Lauren left, Daria, who had been visibly anxious, also left the prison within an hour.

 

Yet, even so, Ethel’s name wasn’t mentioned for a long time. During that free time, she pondered on how she might die.

 

‘It would be nice to get a sharp piece of iron or glass, but it’s probably almost impossible. Maybe jumping off the carriage is the best way?’

 

The plan she devised was to jump off the carriage and collide with another carriage.

 

‘I’m  sure he probably lives on a street crowded with noble mansions. So, carriages will be passing by frequently. If I can secretly unlock the carriage door, I can jump off and get n over right away.’

 

If lucky, it would be a noble’s carriage. Even if it doesn’t run fast, startled horses could easily break a rib or two.

 

Instant death with a shattered skull would be the best outcome, but knowing that fate was never on her side, she didn’t wish for a swift demise. Just piercing the broken rib into the heart would be deemed a merciful end.

 

‘May it not be a fate where I’m impaled by rib fragments with only a slight lung injury.’

 

How long and agonizing would such a death be?

 

Ethel, trying to bite her chapped lips with her fingers, abruptly withdrew her hand. It was a bad habit that surfaced whenever she felt uneasy.

 

Despite getting hit with a stick several times because of this habit, her hand unconsciously went to her lips.

 

As the sky outside the window gradually turned crimson, the executioner finally appeared.

 

“Ethel Lancaster! Come out!”

 

Though her heart seemed to sink, Ethel deliberately rose from her seat slowly, lightly straightening the creases in her tattered dress.

 

Even in death, she vowed not to lose her dignity until the end. That was her last given task.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Ethel nodded slightly in gratitude to the guard who held the door until she left, then followed the guards who had come to take her outside the prison.

 

The western sky already held the setting sun.

 

Heading towards the carriage sent by Count Chistceros, Ethel steeled her resolve.

 

‘He probably sent a male servant. It would be better if he sent a maid, but….’

 

If he insists that it’s inappropriate for her to ride the carriage and suggests walking, that would be the best. Riding together might draw the servant’s attention to her. If he keeps glancing, it would be difficult to exploit any vulnerabilities.

 

‘In such a case, it’s better to engage in light conversation, subtly directing attention outside. ‘

 

In social circles, it’s essential to casually warm up the atmosphere with someone you’ve just met. And Ethel was always a flawless conversationalist.

 

She prayed that, if anyone had to come, it would be an indifferent and inexperienced servant.

 

However, surprisingly, waiting outside the gate of the northern prison was none other than Lord Rasto Christceros itself. His expression was identical to when he discovered Ethel hiding in the warehouse.

 

“Oh! Did the Commander of the Guard personally come? You didn’t need to send a servant.”

 

“I could have brought you when I left the palace. Is there a need to make more people move needlessly?”

 

Rasto didn’t even glance at Ethel. He seemed to find this situation merely bothersome.

 

“Get in.”

 

Rasto signaled to the guard next to him, indicating the carriage.

 

There was only one carriage. No other means of transport were in sight.

 

Ethel bit her lip.

 

‘This is unfortunate.’

 

The idea of riding the carriage alone with Rasto was something she had never imagined.

 

However, she had no other choice.

 

Ethel nodded slightly in gratitude to the guard standing by the carriage, ready to escort.

 

“I can go myself. Thank you for your consideration.”

 

“Oh, alright.”

 

Although it was a courteous gesture, possibly to avoid hearing remarks about still playing the role of the Duchess in the loot affair, the guard kept his head bowed until she got into the carriage.

 

Rasto, who had been plagued with questions about Ethel all day, even found the guard’s greeting annoying, and a crease formed on his forehead as he greeted Ethel.

 

‘All these guys seem to be captivated by a woman’s face. Tsk.’

 

Ironically, he found himself annoyed by the loot he never wanted in the first place.

 

But venting frustration on innocent people would be pointless. Without a word, he boarded the carriage and signaled for departure.

 

As the carriage started moving, Ethel sat close to the door, trying to calm her pounding heart.

 

‘What if I strike up a conversation?’

 

What she thought would be an easy light talk seemed futile as her stomach churned. Perhaps the strong impression of Rasto breaking into Lancaster Castle was to blame.

 

Even after boarding the carriage, he continued to glare menacingly at her.

 

‘Seems like I don’t sit well with him. Well, being a duchess won’t make me look graceful when he was the commander of the suppression force.’

 

Her hands felt like they might tremble unless she held them steady.

 

Suddenly, Rasto pulled off the cloak draped over his shoulders and tossed it onto Ethel’s lap.

 

Startled, Ethel almost let out a yelp.

 

“Wh-why would you…”

 

“Stop shivering, don’t be too nervous.”

 

Her eyes widened.

 

‘How did he know I was shivering, or rather, did he give me the cloak because I looked cold? Why…?’

 

Ethel couldn’t decipher his intentions at all. After tossing the cloak, Rasto turned his head away, making it impossible to gauge his expression.

 

However, Rasto’s cloak, now draped over her, was surprisingly warm. If she were to jump off the carriage and throw the cloak back towards Rasslow, he might catch it, preventing her escape.

 

Regaining composure, Ethel subtly checked the carriage door’s lock.

 

‘The simplest kind of lock. Lucky me.’

 

Considering the flimsy lock, it seemed like a slight jolt could open it.

 

Come to think of it, the carriage Rasto brought seemed quite small and somewhat shabby for a Count’s.

 

It was strange, but she considered it a detail inconsequential to her imminent death.

 

Ethel quietly took a breath, gazing out the window, waiting for the right moment.

 

It was fortunate that Rasto showed no more interest, but with the carriage not being spacious, a slight movement could easily draw his attention.

 

‘Please let it succeed on the first try.’

 

Praying to die was a bleak situation. Still, surviving might be even more dreadful, so she had no choice but to pray.

 

Yet, even though it was rush hour, the carriage didn’t seem to be passing many on the road.

 

‘It’s the time when everyone should be heading home, so there should be plenty of carriages…?’

 

Moreover, this carriage was moving quite slowly.

 

At this speed, opening the carriage door and jumping out would inevitably result in a few scraped wounds.

 

Creak, creak.

 

Despite the carriage making a leisurely sound as it moved, the body wasn’t jostled too much, but the insides felt uncomfortably jarring.

 

‘At this rate, we’ll reach Christceros!’

 

Ethel’s heart raced.

 

However, as if anticipating this moment, a double carriage approached from the opposite direction.

 

Given its relatively fast pace, if she could manage to properly detach herself from the carriage, it seemed dying wouldn’t be too difficult.

 

‘If I miss this opportunity, it’s over!’

 

Clenching her molars, she reached discreetly towards the carriage’s lock. The cold touch of the metal stuck to her fingertips.

 

‘Alright. One, two…’

 

It was just as she was about to count ‘three.’

 

“It would be better not to do that.”

 

Ethel stiffened at the sudden, low, and chilly voice. It felt like her mind went blank.

 

‘How did he know?’

 

Rasto definitely wasn’t looking out the opposite window, right…?

 

While Ethel was in astonishment, the carriage from the opposite side swiftly passed by, leaving an eerie stillness inside their carriage.

 

‘What now? He won’t just let it go.’

 

Ethel swallowed nervously. Rasto’s expression remained unchanged. His indifferent face, seemingly bored or annoying, stayed just as it was.

 

Yet, he undoubtedly noticed what she was attempting, and just because he was expressionless now didn’t mean he wasn’t angered.

 

Unable to come up with any excuses, Ethel simply closed her eyes.

 

‘My life is spiraling into the worst.’

 

Even as she sank into despair, the carriage briskly continued, arriving at Count Christceros’s estate.

 

Rasto, without any notable action, simply opened the door, stepped out of the carriage first, and gruffly uttered a single word.

 

“Get off.”

 

Cows being led to the slaughterhouse probably feel like this.

 

Ethel raised herself, but due to the tension she had maintained throughout the journey, her legs, stiff from stress, didn’t move easily.

 

Afraid a jeer might come if she stumbled, she forcibly straightened her rigid leg to step onto the carriage’s foothold. At that moment, she had a premonition that she would soon awkwardly fall.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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