Chapter 10: Civil War Era - The Bloodstained Countess (Illustration)
Trapped in a corner, Countess Yvonne, with her face pale and trembling, suddenly shouted out.
“It’s all a trap concocted by that wench! What are you doing? Arrest that woman who assassinated the Lord!”
As the door burst open, the Countess’s guards rushed in.
Before Christine could even issue a command, Baron Caron and the other soldiers drew their swords to block them.
Amidst the screams and clashes of swords in the bedroom, Christine slowly walked towards the bed and gazed down at her father, who was asleep.
After a moment, she quietly slipped the Count’s signet ring from his finger and placed it on her own.
As she turned around, the vassals, having defeated the Countess’s guards, instantly recognized the significance of the signet ring and knelt before her.
“Some of you were unaware of this plot, and others chose to ignore it,” she said.
In the deathly silence, only Christine’s cold voice resonated.
“Prove your loyalty. Capture those who have committed treason against the Count’s family and fled.”
“We will obey your command!”
The vassals and soldiers, like a receding tide, swiftly left the Count’s bedroom.
“Now, should I address you as Countess or Lady Aquitaine?” a carefree voice, out of place in the tense atmosphere, spoke.
Christine turned and glared at Garp.
“Normally, the verification service fee should be charged to the Countess, or rather, Lady Duna, but it seems challenging to invoice her now. However, since the Aquitaine family requested assistance from the Abyss Corporation...”
Christine, suppressing the urge to tear his mouth, spat out her words.
“Don’t worry about any hostility towards the Abyss Corporation for now. I’ll pay the fee. Despite not being intentional, it’s true you helped resolve this situation.”
“Ah, thank you, Countess Aquitaine. The Abyss Corporation and ‘Envy’. look forward to a continued excellent-”
“You.”
“Yes?”
Christine, after momentarily controlling her emotions, spoke calmly.
“If you continue to conduct business this way, be wary of the day you’ll have to pay the price.”
The devil’s eyes widened, then he smiled as if amused.
“That’s an intriguing prospect. It would require a nation capable of piercing through ‘Las’ Corporation’s fleet and stepping into the land where the sun never rises.”
With that, the dismissed devil retreated.
***
Finally, the Count’s bedroom was silent.
Christine gazed at the portrait of her mother hanging on the wall.
The Count truly loved her mother.
And her mother loved him back. That’s why, even as she lay dying and leaving her young daughter behind, she had asked the Count to take good care of her.
The Count, likely, also loved Christine, his daughter.
Christine loved her parents too.
When she had offered to help her father, submerged in grief after losing his wife and struggling with the business, the Count was overjoyed.
Christine devoted herself to upholding her mother’s legacy and assisting the Count.
But it was excessive.
The girl, naive to the ways of the world and having lost her mother early, was too exceptional in her zeal to assist her father.
By the time the Count began to recover from the loss of his beloved wife, the trading company, completely restructured and optimized under Christine’s guidance, had reached a point where it couldn’t operate without her.
The loving and adorable daughter, intent on helping her father, had turned into a monster that rendered all he had built throughout his life worthless in an instant.
Christine turned her head and walked towards the bed, looking down at her father.
-"The Count knew."
The words once spoken by a loyalist of the company pierced her heart, causing Christine to close her eyes tightly and place her hand over her chest.
The Count knew that the Countess was procuring ingredients for poison from the Abyss Corporation.
He must have also known that Pierre’s warnings were ignored by Yvonne, and that she had entrusted the company to Christine.
The only sensation in her hand was the steady beating of her heart.
The pain in her chest was nothing but a phantom.
Slowly opening her eyes, she looked down at the Count.
As if confirming the demon’s explanation that one dies peacefully and happily under its influence, her father lay there with a blissful and serene smile.
Originally, it should have been her who consumed that poison.
By the hand of her old maid, whom she had spent a long time with and considered a close friend.
Suddenly, such a thought crossed her mind.
What if she had known nothing at all?
Not betrayed by anyone, not causing anyone’s blood to be spilled.
What if she alone had succumbed to the blissful illusion that this poison offered and died?
Would they have been happy then?
It’s a meaningless thought.
Turning her back again, she walked towards the door.
Once again, Christine took in the portrait of her mother.
At least, even after marrying a second wife and doting on that woman’s child, her father had left her mother’s portrait hanging. It must have been his true love.
For Christine, the thought that the Count her mother remembered was such a loving husband brought some solace.
Just as she was about to leave the bedroom...
“Christine-”
She turned her head towards her father’s voice calling her name.
Her father, lost in the illusion the poison created, did not move his lips.
Whether it was her father’s voice, still seeing her as his beloved daughter in the fantasy, or a hallucination she longed to hear, Christine could never be sure.
Leaving the Count’s bedroom, Christine stepped into the chaotic corridors of the mansion, where the remnants of the Countess’s allies were fleeing, pursued by vassals and soldiers.
Her footsteps echoed
- click-clack, click-clack -
in the building now engulfed in darkness, as the day had completely faded away.
She passed by the Countess’ room slowly.
When her father had chosen to marry a lady from a fallen baronial family, not even a great house, Christine had felt devastated.
She would have found some comfort in a marriage of convenience, but accepting a woman with nothing but youth and beauty seemed like her father had forgotten her mother he dearly loved.
Yet, Christine, despite her feelings, greeted her new stepmother, who was hardly older than herself, with a smile.
- “You can rely on me, my dear. There’s not much age difference between us, so I’d be grateful if you’d think of me as your sister.”
Whether Yvonne’s softly whispered kind words were a deception from the start, or if her heart changed after bearing a son, Christine did not know.
Passing the Countess’ room, Christine slowly descended the stairs, gripping the banister.
-“Sis!”
She almost thought she saw her much-adored younger half-brother, who wasn’t her true sibling, at the bottom of the stairs.
Descending, she saw the long table eerily set in the dimly lit dining room.
Memories of a time when her beloved mother was alive and her father was warm flooded back.
-“Eat slowly, Christine.”
-“Hahaha.”
Illusions in the dark dining room, hallucinations that couldn’t possibly be real.
-“Sis! This is delicious!”
-“Eat slowly, Louis.”
-“It’s heartwarming to see you two getting along so well.”
And then she remembered herself, following her mother’s example, caring for her younger half-brother, and Yvonne, watching them with apparent joy.
Christine slowly turned and headed towards the mansion’s main entrance.
One step, then another.
The places filled with her memories and warmth were now overlaid with the stench of blood.
Or perhaps,
it was all just her misconception from the start – the memories, the warmth.
As she stepped outside the main entrance of the mansion, lost in thought with her eyes closed, and then opened them,
“Please save me, miss!”
“Please, show mercy!”
“Miss, I truly knew nothing!”
In the midst of the Aquitaine family’s vassals and soldiers, along with the knights and soldiers of Lafayette, the Countess, the Duna family, and their followers were captured and bound.
Including her young half-brother, only eight years old, trembling like a leaf, clueless and scared.
Feeling slightly awkward as the vassals and soldiers knelt before her, waiting for her command, Christine slowly approached her brother.
“Christine! It was all my doing! He, he knows nothing! I swear!
Please spare Louis! He’s your brother, isn’t he?”
Yvonne’s pleas, her dress and hair in disarray, tears streaming down her face, sounded utterly worthless.
As Christine stepped forward, Louis flinched and backed away.
The boy, who used to act adorably and cunningly, knowing his sister cared for him, now retreated in fear, stopping Christine in her tracks.
It was then that she realized her black dress, worn as a sign of mourning, was drenched in blood.
Christine, smiling like a flower, extended her hands and grasped the trembling shoulders of Louis, who was trying to step back.
“Louis, my brother.”
Christine felt a strangeness seeing her brother, who used to run to her at her call, now flinching at the sound of her voice.
“You don’t know anything, do you?”
The boy’s eyes, wildly darting, sought his mother, tear-stained instead of his usually attentive sister.
As his mother nodded through her tears, Louis also nodded earnestly.
“I’m not sure how to explain this to you, still so young.”
Christine was deep in thought, but Louis spoke first.
“P-please, save Mother!”
Christine frowned as she saw Yvonne crying at the boy’s words.
Ah, how terribly...
Innocent yet cruel.
A daughter who trampled on her father’s pride in her quest for his love and purest intentions.
A pure child begging for the life of his mother, who tried to lead his sister to death and even killed his father.
It was so painfully similar, so chilling in its extremity.
Holding the child’s shoulders, Christine burst out.
“Louis, I can’t save your mother. But I won’t kill you, who just got entangled in all this. I’ll spare you, I’ll raise you as a child of Aquitaine.”
The child, overwhelmed by the complexity of it all, received each word, each carefully articulated sentence, as though they were etched into memory.
“You can hate me if you want. After all, you are still my brother. I’ll take care of you and raise you. Someday, if you wish to take revenge, go ahead. When that day comes, do your best to kill me. I’ll do the same, my beloved brother.”
The child, who used to eagerly follow his sister, collapsed weakly at her feet, overwhelmed by her curse-like tirade.
Yet, the sister stood firm as she declared,
“As the new lord of the Aquitaine family, I decree: Yvonne Aquitaine, for the crime of treason against the Count’s family, you are sentenced to death. The title of Baron Duna and his accomplices are revoked, and they too are sentenced to death.”
“No, please!”
“Please save me, miss!”
“Please, have mercy!”
Amidst the pleading and screaming, the Countess was dragged out. Before she could speak to her son, the knight’s sword flashed.
As her mother’s blood splattered and her body fell, the son’s screams filled the air. Christine silently turned away.
With each step, erasing memories in the corridors she passed, the spaces were filled with screams and wails.
Christine solemnly ascended the stairs.
Unsure of her destination, she realized she had entered her brother’s room when she regained her senses.
Finding a familiar music box in a corner of the room, Christine slowly approached and picked it up.
[To my beloved Louis, from Christine.]
Staring blankly at the inscription on the music box, Christine suddenly noticed Pierre standing at the doorway.
Their eyes met, followed by a moment of silence, then Pierre spoke.
“You’ve done well.”
Was he about to ask if she was okay?
Expecting such a question, Christine let out a small laugh.
Christine found the unexpected words more comforting than she had anticipated.
She gently set the music box in motion.
The sound of the music, which she had liked and given as a gift to her cherished brother, began to play.
Today, Christine asked her knight, the man who was her protector.
“Shall we dance to a tune?”
Christine was usually confident in managing her expressions, but right now, she had no idea how her smile might appear.
Accepting her invitation, Pierre approached and gracefully bowed, extending his hand.
“If the lady would honor me by accepting a dance.”
“With pleasure.”
The dance of the knight and lady, clothed in blood-stained garments, was quite a mess, lacking proper lighting and dance music, moving instead to the moonlight and the sound of the music box.
It should have been a mess, but Pierre, true to his knighthood, covered for her quite splendidly.
As Christine, spurred by a sense of rivalry, pondered whether to step on his foot or not, the music box suddenly stopped.
Feeling a slight regret at the abrupt end of their dance, Christine spoke.
“Now that the Young Duke has kept his promise, it’s my turn to help you.”
“I’m pleased you remember, Countess.”
Christine, addressed as Countess, smiled subtly and asked.
“So, what should I do for you now?”
“First, it would be beneficial to strengthen cooperation with the city powers connected to the Aquitaine family. I will also provide support as much as I can.”
“That doesn’t sound too difficult.”
“And come spring, the plague will start to spread.”
Christine blinked involuntarily and, after a moment of contemplation, her response was as follows:
“Young Duke, are you by any chance a prophet?”
“Hm, not quite, though it might seem similar for a limited time.”
Christine couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity.
It sounded crazy, but the fact that she was seriously considering his words made her unable to stop laughing.
“So... then? If we’re to prepare for the plague, what supplies do we need to-”
“I’d like to request that, but there’s something even more important.”
“More important?”
“A bit after the plague starts, rumors of a saint healing the sick will begin to circulate. It’s likely to be in the southern part of the kingdom, but it could be elsewhere.”
“That suddenly sounds highly suspicious.”
Pierre also laughed at her comment, and they ended up laughing together.
“Please inform me immediately if you hear any rumors about this saint.”
“City powers and a saint, huh? What exactly are you planning to do? Secede from the doomed kingdom?”
Christine’s remark, meant as a joke, was met with a response from Pierre.
“No, I’m trying to survive the revolution.”
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