Chapter 118: Unearned Cruelty.

Chapter 118

The morning light shown over the stone sills of the Northern Fortress, casting long shadows across the heavy oak panels of the master bedchamber. Silence hung thick in the room, broken only by the steady rustle of linen and the quiet, rhythmic breathing of the young girl resting beside Sigrid. Rosie lay curled upon the dark velvet duvet, her face still bearing the faint crimson traces of dried tears, her hand clutching tightly at the corner of Sigrid’s sleeve.

Sigrid remained motionless for several moments, staring up at the vaulted ceiling as the grim events of the previous night drifted through her mind—the confrontation in the dark courtyard, the desperate treachery of the servants, and the quiet tragedy of two children abandoned to a cruel fate. Carefully, with practiced composure, Sigrid slid her arm from the girl’s grasp and slipped out of the bed, her bare feet meeting the freezing stone floors without a sound.

When Lilith stepped into the chamber carrying a basin of warm water, Sigrid immediately raised an index finger to her lips, offering a silent gesture toward the sleeping child. The maid bowed her head in swift understanding and set the basin down without a sound. Sigrid retired to her adjoining bath chamber, washing away the chill of the night before slipping into a dark, structured gown tailored for the harsh northern winds. After partaking in a brief breakfast in her private parlor, Sigrid made her way down the grand hall, where Maude stood waiting in full armor, bowing deeply as the Duchess approached.

"I delivered your missive to the capital yesterday evening, Your Grace," Maude spoke in a quiet, measured cadence, rising from her bow. "However, given the intense preoccupations within the fortress late last evening, I deemed it prudent to defer my report until you had rested."

"You exercised sound judgment, Maude," Sigrid replied calmly, gathering her robes around her. "Are you fully appraised of the household affairs that transpired while you were away?"

"I am, Duchess. Lord Chester informed me of everything," Maude said, her face darkening with genuine sorrow. "I find myself deeply moved by the plight of those two children. To be subjected to such calculated neglect and traumatic hardship at so tender an age is a truly tragic affair. What course of action do you intend to pursue now, mistress?"

"Our primary concern must be retrieving the young boy, Rony, so that proper medical care may commence without delay," Sigrid explained, her crimson eyes scanning the quiet corridor. "Regrettably, I do not know where their former residence lies within the province, and I am reluctant to wake Rosie from her sleep after the exhaustion of her grief."

"Allow me to scour the lower settlements, Your Grace," Maude offered immediately. Before Sigrid could grant her approval, the heavy iron-studded doors at the fortress entrance echoed with a firm knock. Sigrid motioned for her guards to remain put and walked to the entrance herself. Pulling open the heavy oak door, she found Marquess Caspian standing upon the threshold, his grand coat lined with northern fur as he offered a low, polished bow.

"Greetings, Duchess," Caspian said, a subtle smile touching his lips as he straightened. "I trust I do not intrude upon your morning."

Sigrid stepped aside, gesturing for him to enter the foyer. "Marquess Caspian. You travel with remarkable swiftness."

"I came to report that the rumors surrounding Princess Maria and Prince Ragnar remain fiercely stoked throughout the capital, precisely as you commanded," Caspian informed her smoothly as he crossed into the hall. "The high court gazettes talk of little else, and their reputations sink deeper with each passing hour. However, I also carry matters of secondary import to discuss."

"I am delighted, Marquess," Sigrid noted, "though I fear my attention is currently demanded elsewhere within the territory." Seeing Caspian’s slight frown of curiosity, Sigrid briefly outlined the night’s events, explaining the plot against the treasury, the tragic fate of the former staff, and the hidden, sick child left behind.

Caspian listened intently, tapping his chin in deep thought. "If the parents were as mercenary and cold-hearted as you describe, they would never spend a copper to place the boy in a proper medical hospice. Furthermore, the capital is far too distant for a frail child to travel. He must be hidden within one of the impoverished, rundown quarters of the northern town, likely left in the care of whoever would take him for the lowest coin."

Sigrid turned to her guard without hesitation. "Maude, assemble a small detachment immediately. Search every dwelling in the town for a sick child named Rony whose parents served within the fortress."

"It shall be done at once, mistress," Maude bowed, swiftly departing through the heavy front gates.

Scarcely thirty minutes had elapsed before Maude returned to the hallway, her expression grim as she approached the Duchess. "We have located the residence, Your Grace. The boy is nearby."

"Lead the way," Sigrid commanded firmly.

Refusing the delay of preparing a carriage, Sigrid, accompanied by Caspian, Lilith, Chester, and Maude, set out on foot through the snow-dusted paths leading toward the northern town. As she walked, Sigrid surveyed the stark landscape. Despite being the wealthiest territory in terms of raw minerals and ducal treasure, the northern province lacked warmth, personality and commerce. The extreme isolation and its far distance, coupled with Duke Soren’s formidable and terrifying reputation, kept foreign merchant caravans from venturing across the border, leaving the local markets devoid of basic luxuries and vital imported goods. Sigrid quietly lamented her husband’s overly imposing stature and she would have requested the aid kf the Marquess to bring merchants to the North but his reputation as a business owner did not extend outside of the capital so she recognized that only royal intervention or new trade charters could break the dukedom’s isolation.

Maude brought the party to a halt before a weathered, run-down wooden house near the edge of the lower town. Before Sigrid could speak, the squeaky door creaked open, and an elderly northern woman stepped out onto the porch, wrapped in a faded wool shawl. It was a rare sight, as elderly women seldom survived the harsh northern climates long enough to reach such years.

"Welcome to my home, visitors," the old woman greeted them softly, her voice raspy yet warm. "If you seek the young boy, he is inside."

Stepping across the threshold, Sigrid was surprised to find the interior remarkably tidy and cozy, a stark contrast to the dilapidated exterior. Maude leaned toward Sigrid, whispering quietly, "The child was not placed in any proper care center, Your Grace. His parents abandoned him on the roadside weeks ago, and this gentle woman took him in out of sheer mercy."

A sharp pang of anger and pity struck Sigrid’s heart. The former servants had received generous stipends from the fortress, yet they had left their own blood to suffer on the cold streets. The old woman led Sigrid into a small back room, where a frail boy of no more than seven or eight years lay shivering under a thin blanket. Sigrid stepped forward and gently pressed her palm against the child’s forehead; his skin burned with a terrifying, feverish heat.

"His fever is far too severe," Sigrid declared, her voice laced with urgent concern. Chester moved forward, offering to carry the boy, but Sigrid gently pushed his hand aside. "No, I shall carry him myself."

Lifting the fragile, lightweight boy onto her back and securing him closely, Sigrid turned back toward the fortress at a swift pace. Lilith hurried ahead to summon the ducal physician, ensuring everything was prepared upon their arrival. Returning to the fortress, Sigrid carried Rony directly to a warm guest chamber and laid him upon the soft mattress just as the physician rushed into the room with his satchel.

After examining the child, the physician turned to Sigrid with a solemn expression. "His illness is severe and has lingered far too long without care, Your Grace. Had he remained untreated for another day, he would have succumbed. However, with concentrated medicines and proper rest, I can stabilize his condition."

Relieved by the news, Sigrid left the physician to his work and escorted Marquess Caspian down to the primary drawing room. Lilith arrived shortly after, placing a tray of hot tea upon the mahogany table before quietly stepping back. Sigrid sank into an armchair and let out a long, weary sigh, feeling the weight of the morning pressing upon her shoulders.

Caspian took a gentle sip from his teacup, his intelligent eyes fixed thoughtfully upon the Duchess. "You seem extraordinarily invested in the survival of a child who bears no relation to your house, Your Grace."

"Should I not be?" Sigrid replied, meeting his gaze evenly. "Children are vulnerable beings brought into this world without their consent, often forced to endure the failures and cruelties of the adults around them. They are treated poorly, expected to bear burdens beyond their years, yet they represent the very future we strive to build. Anyone with a heart would feel outrage at what those parents inflicted upon him."

Caspian offered a subtle smile. "Permit me to say this Duchess, but I find it hard to believe you have a heart considering how coldly you react and go about things. That is why I am surprised you show them a degree of tenderness and mercy that you rarely grant to the adults who serve you."

Sigrid let out a quiet scoff, a faint smirk returning to her lips. "You seem to have grown a bit audacious Marquess, to speak to me that way despite not receiving the ’permission’ you requested but if you must know I treat them that way because children have not yet learned the deceptive, scheming nature of adulthood. They deserve protection." She set her teacup down upon the saucer with a soft clatter, her tone shifting back to sharp calculation. "Enough of these philosophical distractions, Marquess. You came here to deliver specific intelligence, did you not?"

Caspian chuckled quietly, placing his cup aside. "Indeed, Duchess. Regarding the ornate jewelry headpiece you requested I investigate. My sources have finally confirmed its origin. That particular style of delicate craftsmanship and gold-weaving is produced exclusively within the artisan guilds of Noravelle."

Sigrid’s hand froze, a flicker of genuine shock widening her eyes at the name—Noravelle. The breath caught in her throat for a single heartbeat before the surprise vanished, replaced instantly by cold, sharp calculation. Before she could respond, the heavy wooden door to the drawing room creaked open, and the ducal physician stepped into the parlor, wiping his hands on a clean cloth.

"Your Grace," the physician announced with a bow, "the child’s fever has broken, and the treatments are taking effect."