Baby Prisoner of the Winter Castle

Chapter 5

The duke’s party rode on for another week. The temperature dropped whenever they crossed a border, and they draped another thick coat over Clarisse’s little shoulders. By the time they reached Sheridan, Clarisse had become a round ball of coats, unable to even move her arms freely. Yet the winters of Sheridan were still unbearably cold even with all the thick clothing.

With her face just barely poking out between her coats, Clarisse gazed at the unfamiliar city. Quentin had told her there were more rocks than people in this land. Perhaps it was due to the rocky mountains surrounding the villages.

Once they passed through the residential area with low buildings into the commercial district, the villagers stepped out into the street and waved at the duke. It had been approximately half a year since he left for the war. The duke slowed down to greet the villagers and hear about what happened while he was away. Clarisse was astonished at how naturally he conversed with the commoners.

In Grezekaiah, Clarisse had hardly ever left the palace and never had the chance to speak with anyone outside. Her father and brother only spoke with a few nobles of high rank. And even when Clarisse cautiously approached them to at least greet them, they would give her glares of contempt. But Duke Sheridan listens to the people so sincerely. Clarisse felt a sense of pride for some reason, though who he was had nothing to do with her.

Once they exited the village, an enormous mansion appeared above a small hill. Maximilian approached the carriage on his horse.

“Quentin.”

Quentin nodded at him out the window. “Yes, my lord?”

“I will go and check on the Northern Wall. It will take me about three days, so do get some rest.”

“P-pardon me?”

“I know everyone’s excited that the war is over, but it’s winter now, and we cannot lower our guards against the monsters.”

“But—”

“I’ve left Sheridan for too long because of the war. Unlike what the legends say, the bell of Sheridan Estate does not warn us of monsters, so we must be on the lookout ourselves.”

“Still, you should get some rest too,” Quentin muttered, but he eventually relented and nodded. “Understood, my lord. But you must return quickly—you promised to hold a grand banquet for everyone here instead of going to the one in the capital.”

“All right.”

The duke’s dark eyes glanced at Clarisse. She studied him cautiously, clutching her pouch full of stones.

“And you will continue taking care of the child.”

“I cannot do that, Your Grace!”

“Why’s that?”

“How can I take any of the children’s items from the estate without permission? Only the duchess has the authority.”

The duke paused for a second.

“Is that… so?”

He hesitated with a reluctant expression, and then he concluded in an awkward tone.

“Then... tell Duchess Sheridan that I will leave her in charge of the captive for a while.”

“Yes, my lord! That is a great decision!”

“Then, I’ll be heading north right away.”

The duke turned his horse and left the formation with five knights. Quentin turned toward Clarisse with a joyful smile.

“You heard that, right?”

“Oh… Yes!”

As Clarisse answered with a forced smile, she could finally see the entire estate through the window. Something felt odd about the place. Unlike the neatly maintained villages of Sheridan, the duke’s estate did not look well-managed at all. The hands on the clock posted outside were completely still, and some rocks were missing here and there along the Outer Wall. And perhaps because it was winter, most of the windows were covered with wooden planks, making the entire estate resemble a large prison.

“Well, the place isn’t fancy, but there is nothing we can do about it. It’s not as if we normal people can fix it. In any case… You’ll adjust in no time.” Quentin finished as the carriage came to a stop.

*

As the duchess and the servants welcomed the knights, Clarisse followed Quentin and entered the estate through a small door on the side of the property. There was a fire lit near the entrance, so Clarisse immediately felt her body warm up from the freezing temperature outside.

“Hmm, we should do something about your clothes first.”

Quentin took off her numerous layers of coats that were dragging on the ground. But since he could not leave her in just the light dress she was originally wearing, he wrapped a warm blanket around her shoulders.

“I guess this will do. Come, you must greet the lady of the house.”

“A-already?”

“You should greet the one who will be taking care of you, shouldn’t you?”

“W-well… Yes.”

Quentin was puzzled as to why the child suddenly seemed so dispirited despite being so energetic earlier in the carriage, but he didn’t ask as he picked up a candle and climbed the stairs. It was a narrow staircase used by the servants and those without special permission from the duke’s family to use the central staircase. Of course, Quentin normally used the central staircase, but he could not today because he was accompanied by Clarisse, who was a captive. The stairs were steep and the steps uneven, so it wasn’t very comfortable for a small child.

Quentin glanced back at Clarisse. Fortunately, she was holding onto the wall, taking each step carefully.

“You know basic etiquette, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Clarisse barely managed to reply as she struggled to climb steps as tall as her knees.

The queen of Grezekaiah had at least taught her basic court etiquette. She had told Clarisse she would bring shame to the court if she lacked manners on top of having a shameful background. Her education was violent, meaning Clarisse was hit on the head often.

“I’m glad to hear that. You must make sure to follow etiquette within the estate.”

Will the duchess hit my head too? “I-I will!” she replied firmly, a little frightened.

“It’s good to see that you’re confident.”

It wasn’t confidence, but she couldn’t correct him. She was already out of breath from climbing the stairs, and she felt anxious about meeting the woman whom the people called the “Queen of Sheridan.”

After a few more steps, Quentin opened the door leading to the corridor on the second floor. It was quite dark. Due to the cold weather, most windows were covered with wooden planks. But candles were lit at regular intervals, so Clarisse could make out what was around her. There was a circular ceiling, tapestries of various sizes decorating the walls, and…

“Rocks,” Clarisse quietly murmured, stroking the wall gently.

The rocks were very smooth, as if they had been there for at least a hundred years.

“This estate has a long history, though it’s in rough shape now.”

For the first time since entering the estate, Clarisse smiled brightly and shook her head. “It looks very friendly and wonderful, actually.”

Friendly? It was a strange way to describe a house. Quentin was just about to ask what she meant when…

“Welcome back, Mr. Sinclair.”

A middle-aged woman in a stiff apron bowed to him. Her stern voice and rigid facial expression frightened Clarisse a little, so she quickly hid behind Quentin.

Quentin nodded slightly and glanced at the closed door next to the woman. “Thank you, Madam Bessie. Has the lady returned to her study?”

Clarisse figured this woman was the duchess’ personal maid.

“Yes, she is quite disappointed that His Grace has not returned home,” Bessie said.

“Right. I’m sure. But he will return in three days. In any case, may we see the duchess for a moment?”

“Certainly, if you leave the little beast with me.”

Bessie gestured with her chin at Clarisse, who was still hiding behind Quentin. Clarisse’s shoulders flinched.

“Oh, this child is—”

Quentin was about to explain, but the woman interrupted him.

“I heard the knights talking. A prisoner of war,” she said.

“Yes, His Grace has asked that the duchess take care of the child. So please inform her that I must see her.”

“But Mr. Sinclair, it is too filthy.”

The maid stood there stiffly, not moving an inch. It was as though she had no intention of opening the door for them at all.

“Oh… Well, we have been in a carriage for quite a while…”

“You may go inside and speak to Her Grace, Mr. Sinclair. I will wash it and tell it to greet her later.”

Quentin felt a strange sense of displeasure at hearing her say those words. He could not understand why. There was nothing wrong with what Bessie said. During the trip, he had given the child water to bathe in, but she probably would not have done a good job of it by herself. Her soft, pink hair was now all tangled up like shredded cabbage, so she clearly did not look decent enough to greet a noblewoman.

There was nothing he could do about the maid referring to Clarisse as “it,” either. Captives of war were of the lowest status, even among criminals. So, of course, people considered them less than human. Moreover, the child was supposed to die in the first place.

“Well… All right. You may take her.” Quentin said, stepping away from the child with a bitter look.

He could see Clarisse grow pale, but there was nothing he could do. More than anything, Bessie was only trying to bathe her, not harm her in any way.

“Ahem. Follow her and get yourself cleaned up before greeting the duchess,” he told Clarisse as she looked up at him.

Then, Quentin hastily knocked on the door to the duchess’s study and entered. Left behind in the corridor, Clarisse kept her hands together and snuck a glance up at Bessie.

“Um…”

“Come with me.”

The maid took Clarisse to a servants’ bathroom and halfheartedly wiped her face and body. Clarisse wondered if she would end up any cleaner from the lack of effort.

“I was told I must be clean to greet Her Grace.”

When she mustered up her courage and cautiously pointed that out, the maid scoffed.

“What business does a nobody like you have with my lady?”

“I-I…”

Clarisse felt fear wash over her at Bessie’s sharp tone, but she managed to bring herself to respond.

“T-to… repay Her Grace for her kindness.”

The maid sneered. “Repay her kindness? Ridiculous. There is only one way to repay her kindness: Tell Her Grace if there were any presumptuous women with the duke on his journey home.”

Bessie tossed a damp, smelly towel at Clarisse. The latter took it with both hands and began drying off her arms and legs.

“Any… women?” Clarisse asked.

Unfortunately, Clarisse did not understand the meaning behind the maid’s words. There was talk in Shefers of a nobleman who had just returned from the war with a woman he had met in Grezekaiah. They said he had offered her a place to live in his domain so they could continue their affair. Rumors spread among the maids that this wasn’t merely an isolated incident. It seemed some other noblemen’s wives were suffering due to the same infidelity.

Clarisse pondered for a moment, clutching the towel, then answered cautiously, “There were many women with us. They were knights and soldiers, and they all looked very strong.”

“You fool, I am asking if His Grace is coming home late because he’s looking for a house for his new woman!”

“Oh, His Grace? A house?”

“Yes, I’m asking you if Duke Sheridan brought a new woman back with him—a woman who’s not a knight or a soldier.”

The only person who matched the description was Clarisse herself. But besides her, there was no one else. And even if she had seen other women, Clarisse knew that talking about other people without their permission was impolite. Mr. Quentin told me to follow etiquette in the estate.

Even as her shoulders shook with fear, Clarisse looked straight into the maid’s eyes and replied, “I cannot tell you that.”

“What?”

“I promised to mind my manners. So please let me remain faithful to His Grace.”

Clarisse trembled as the maid glowered at her, but she could not break her resolve. Luckily, the maid did not pester her any further about the duke.

“Why did my lord have to bring home such a troublesome little beast? He should’ve just slaughtered it straight away,” she muttered with a sigh.

“His Grace said killing me immediately would be breaking the law,” Clarisse said.

Bessie glared at her again and threw the girl’s battered brown dress to the ground.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered.