Chapter 5
***
“If only we could secure a supply of grain, everything would be solved.
But whether foreign nations or our own vassals, they all bow to the emperor’s gaze.
Tch.”
“Frankly, I don’t think those lapdogs of the capital will ever have the strength to oppose us in such a short span… But it is frustrating.”
“Even if we declare independence as a principality, will we really have to struggle with this wretched food problem all over again?”
The retainers vented their dissatisfaction with the current state of affairs, yet they were not as rash as before.
At the same time, a subtle sense of expectation lingered among them.
“If the imperial physician is to remain here for some time, then surely the empire will send more grain as well.”
“If they care for the imperial child in her womb, they’ll have no choice.”
That fragile hope was shattered in an instant.
Not long after the dispatch arrived, so too did a congratulatory delegation.
“……”
The carriages that rolled up to the ducal fortress were numerous, a long procession bearing the seal of the imperial family.
The people of the North dared to hope — if the empire had sent so many wagons, then surely they would not have to worry about food for a while.
But the gifts that poured out were baby clothes, jewelled mobiles, and other trinkets utterly useless to the ducal house.
Among them were maternity gowns for Lincia, and new uniforms tailored for Harvich.
“I am Oberok.
Though we have met often, this is the first time we have exchanged names formally.
Forgive the awkwardness.”
The imperial physician who had confirmed Lincia’s pregnancy smiled as though he were a good man, setting out the gifts.
A sizeable entourage carried the offerings into the fortress.
There was food among them, but in the North it was laughable — luxuries, not sustenance.
To call it grain was absurd.
How could fruit ever serve as a staple food?
“His Majesty has commanded that fruit be sent regularly for the Duchess.
It is said to be good for expectant mothers, after all.”
Harvich swallowed his fatigue as he watched crates of jewels and silks being carried inside.
“Terasa, see the physician Oberok to his quarters.”
At Harvich’s glance, Terasa bowed her head.
“There are many wild beasts in the duchy.
Sir Terasa will serve as your escort.
Should you feel any inconvenience, speak freely.”
Oberok’s eyes lingered on Terasa, slow and appraising, before he smiled warmly.
“I am grateful for the courtesy.
But before that, His Majesty asked that I deliver a message to Her Grace.
May I see her first?”
***
Oberok was not in good spirits.
He had been born the son of peasants, raised in an orphanage funded by the empress herself.
By his own talent alone, he had clawed his way up, until his skills were acknowledged beyond dispute.
After Julius’s coronation, he rose swiftly as a favoured confidant of the throne.
His fortunes had soared — yet he was sent to the North again and again.
Officially, it was to conduct Lincia’s regular check-ups.
In truth, it was to urge her toward pregnancy, to press her into compliance.
Born in the slums, Oberok had always been desperate for advancement.
And so, even as he pitied Lincia’s plight, he wished she would hurry and yield, so that she might finally bear the empire its child.
If he had known that her pregnancy would mean he himself would be forced into long-term residence at the ducal fortress, he never would have prescribed those strengthening tonics so diligently.
The regret was useless now.
Though Julius’s interest in Lincia was genuine, staying in the North brought Oberok no advantage.
Spying on the duchess might please the emperor, but such tasks would not increase his influence.
Especially not for a man of common birth.
When at last he reached Lincia’s chambers, he entered without knocking.
He had claimed to carry a personal message from the emperor — the excuse was enough to send the attendants away.
There was no need for restraint.
“Your Grace, the Duchess.
I greet you.”
Lincia flinched at his sudden presence, her shoulders trembling.
Even within the imperial palace, she had been left with few attendants.
In the North, she was even more alone.
Once she had at least a maid at her side. Now, not even that.
Her wide eyes betrayed her shock at Oberok’s intrusion.
“It is not yet the date of the regular examination…”
Somehow pregnant though she was, she remained useless in his eyes.
“For two years you have failed to provide the empire with even the smallest useful information.
And now you did not even hear word of my arrival?”
It was natural for her, as a royal, to be watched closely.
But he had not expected she would be so cut off as to know nothing of his coming.
This visit was, after all, publicly framed as a congratulatory gesture.
Even as gifts were delivered in her name, she was still so despised.
And yet, somehow, she had conceived.
“I will remain here until the child is born.
His Majesty dearly wishes to see his nephew.
You must protect the child in your womb, no matter what.
That is the only reason His Majesty has spared your life.”
From his robes, Oberok produced a small packet of medicine.
Rare herbs, carefully decocted — a concoction so costly it seemed almost wasted on her.
“His Majesty already knows the North harbours other intentions.”
He tucked the medicine back into her hand.
“Until the child survives its first year, I will be stationed here. …Do not attempt anything foolish.
There is nothing you can do.”
Oberok meant the words sincerely.
He prayed she would do nothing at all, as she always had.
“Whether you wished for this pregnancy or not, you must protect the child.”
“…Leave me.”
Oberok gave a polite bow, then turned and left.
Lincia watched him go, her face expressionless.
His contempt was nothing new.
She had even been struck by him before.
Every month, after each examination, Oberok would linger under the pretence of relaying the emperor’s words — only to twist the knife deeper into her heart.
Whether his words were truly Julius’s commands or not no longer mattered.
The suffocation was the same.
Life in the North was no different from the palace.
Only the fear of imminent death had lifted; the loneliness and estrangement remained unchanged.
Even as duchess, she had no permanent servants.
The retainers she did encounter met her with cold, resentful eyes.
“Pay the price of being spared.”
The cost of her life — how long would they extract it?
If she had known it would last this long, perhaps she should have hanged herself the day her eldest brother died, preserving at least her dignity.
Such thoughts came often.
Yet she had never found the courage to act.
Her wretched clinging to life disgusted even herself.
At the sound of footsteps again, she snapped, raising her voice.
“I told you to leave!”
“…Must I?”
