Chapter 64

* * *

Gareth found it hard to make sense of what was playing out right in front of him.

He’d been ready to kill everyone in that place if it meant getting the duchess out alive.

Do nothing else and protect the duchess. That was his lord’s order.

“Sis, tie my hair up for me!”

“Hey! Father told you not to bother guests!”

“I’m not bothering them! I’m just playing with her because she might be bored!”

What on earth was going on.

Luckily the thieves’ leader already knew us and was favorably inclined toward the duchess. Maybe my earlier generous tip had helped. Either way, his attitude was enough to stop any swordplay.

He warned that word of the hideout’s location could not leak, and asked us to stay for a while. The duchess agreed.

And then—

‘First let’s get this mess under control. Kids, come here! Not coming? Three, two, one’

She let loose a roar like nothing Gareth had ever heard and tackled the kids like a mother monkey rounding up her young.

She subdued them one by one with astonishing skill.

The mood calmed and the situation no longer looked dangerous, so Gareth searched for a way to get word to his lord.

But the hideout was deep underground and calling a hawk would be difficult.

‘The entrance is guarded.’

He could have used force and solved it easily but the duchess hated the idea of roughing up common folk.

If only his lord cared about such trifles.

‘Let’s go back for now.’

They could slip out once the duchess fell asleep and the thieves’ guard relaxed, then Gareth would report the situation.

That was the plan, but when they returned the duchess had already got six kids behaving like toys in the palm of her hand.

“Hey, who told you to play during mealtime. Quiet down all of you.”

“She did it first!”

“Don’t point fingers. Eat your food.”

She ruffled a kid’s hair and gently sat him back down with practiced ease.

She seemed to really like kids.

‘What is she thinking.’

These people were vagabonds who weren’t even registered on the tax rolls. Rats who stole from other people’s storerooms.

Gareth couldn’t understand why the duchess mixed freely with such low folk.

He’d never cared much about nobles, but in that moment he found himself curious about the duchess’s thoughts.

* * *

I finished the food and told the kids old stories to while away the time.

I’d devoured books since I was a child and knew tales from the Valdin Empire to legends from the far continent.

The kids leaned in, completely absorbed.

When nap time came they pouted and begged for more but I coaxed them and had them all sleeping in no time.

And then—

‘What am I doing right now’

A few days trapped in the hideout had me feeling the strangest kind of reality check.

While the women watched me with eyes that made me feel like a small deity, I sat on a stone bench and raked my hands through my hair.

‘Old habits have surfaced again!’

In my previous life my parents died in a carriage accident and I hated leaving home, so I never went to an orphanage. But in the bitter cold I stayed at the monastery orphan wing thanks to the friars’ kindness.

The monastery was always short on hands so I learned to care for children while helping the friars.

‘Now I’m a duchess and this is what’s happening.’

Whatever. I gave up thinking and sat smiling stupidly when a rye loaf was suddenly thrust into my hand.

I looked up and saw a familiar face.

“Mr. Sardine.”

“I told you my name’s Gibson.”

Come to think of it, at some point I’d started speaking casually with this man. How had that happened?

He sat down beside me with a thud.

“You can’t eat fish right? You barely ate earlier. I hid this as an emergency supply. Take one.”

“You call it an emergency supply and you give it to me?”

“I bought it with your money. I’ve been selling here in Bellamare for decades. I’ve never seen a rich man give a tip and then throw up because the food was bad. It’s a first.”

If it was my money that bought it then fine.

I split the loaf and bit into it.

It was hard and dry compared to court fare, like eating cardboard, but it tasted familiarly like the bread I used to eat.

Unlike fish porridge I could eat it, and Gibson made a face.

“You’re a true inland country bumpkin.”

“Who are you to talk about tasted fish with a track record of making people puke?”

“Let’s drop that.”

Gibson laughed and then paused, his face oddly sheepish.

“Truth is, I thought you were a noble.”

“Because I’m pretty?”

“No. A stranger showing up here at this hour with a retinue, and someone actually dragging a person into our hideout, felt completely wrong.”

I had told Ramon to keep the retinue small, but he insisted and I hadn’t pushed hard enough.

Gibson kept talking.

“I thought you were linked with the governor so we could use you as leverage if needed.”

In truth she didn’t look noble.

She couldn’t eat the street food because she grew up inland and hated fish. She handled the children like she’d done it forever and mingled with people like a commoner.

Not someone different at all.

‘It’s just like my old village.’

I scratched my chin awkwardly and a question I’d had for days returned.

Why did these ordinary people live in a cave?

They weren’t just petty thieves. Women, children, even old men too weak to fight lived here.

It felt like a whole village transported underground.

“But why does everyone go feral when the governor’s name comes up? What did he do to make everyone grind their teeth at the very mention?”

“Outsiders don’t know the half of it.”

Of course not.

Lombard was massive, almost a state of its own. The duke couldn’t personally run every city so Bellamare was governed by a governor acting with delegated authority.

Bellamare had a degree of autonomy and a separate administration, so even I didn’t know its affairs.

“It’s a long story.”

Gibson sighed and began.

“I was the head of the Bellamare merchants’ guild. My family lived here for generations and I was always meddlesome so eventually I became head.”

Gibson loved his hometown despite grumbling about the burdens of office.

The previous governor, old and inept, had died of old age and his successor was Count Dorva, the duke’s younger brother.

He had central government experience and people expected Bellamare to prosper under him.

“Reality was different. The man showed his true colors as soon as he took office.”

Forced labor grew harsher and taxes rose.

When people failed quotas he burned their houses and dragged families into the square to stone them as an example.

Shops closed and the town crumbled.

Gibson had kept silent out of fear of violence but could not endure it any longer.

“I and other merchants sent a petition to the Castle to expose Bellamare’s plight.”

“But why didn’t that solve anything? The Castle wouldn’t ignore a petition.”

“Bad timing. At that moment the northern wall was shaken by an earthquake.”

I gasped.

After that, as expected, the story took a turn.

While a former duke fought monsters and died and central government scrambled, an official in league with the governor intercepted the petition and sent it back to Bellamare.

When the governor saw it he flipped out.

“We had to abandon our homes and flee. It’s a common tale now.”

I didn’t know how to react.

I was a Castle official. The events happened before I became one, but Bellamare’s suffering continued.

Did I bear no responsibility at all then? As a Lombard official perhaps I could’ve noticed and done more. If I’d tried harder, just a little more—

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s not your fault.”