Chapter 015: Alwyn and Helena
Alwyn was engrossed in a pile of documents in his office when the door was knocked. "Come in," he said without turning around.
Helena entered, quietly closing the door behind her. She gave Alwyn a nod in greeting. She saw the exhaustion on Alwyn's face, but his eyes still radiated sharp attention. "Lady Helena, I need the latest report on the distribution of winter supplies."
Helena glanced at him, offering a faint smile. "Certainly, Sir Alwyn. I've brought it." She handed over a folder she had been carrying but paused, eyeing Alwyn for a moment before handing it over.
"Is there something you wish to discuss?" Alwyn asked, his tone calm, though it hinted that he sensed something unusual in Helena's behavior.
Helena nodded slightly. "It's about Lady Athaleyah."
Alwyn's expression shifted slightly, though he tried to remain composed. "What do you have to say?"
Helena placed the folder on the desk, folding her hands in front of her. "I know you're thinking the same thing, Sir Alwyn. Lady Athaleyah... she's not someone we usually encounter."
"You're right," Alwyn replied. "But that doesn't mean we should jump to conclusions without clear evidence."
Helena sighed softly. "I'm not suggesting that. But if she truly is a fake bride, it's going to complicate things considerably."
"There's a lot that's strange," Alwyn finally said, his voice lowering as though speaking more to himself than to Helena. "But the Duke has decided to play this game, and we can only ensure that everything remains under control."
"She's a clever woman," Helena remarked, her gaze sharp as she studied Alwyn. "Too clever for someone from a minor noble family like Galina."
"That's one of the reasons I feel she's not so easily read," Alwyn responded, his tone more serious. "However, I'm also not convinced that she's only after material gain."
Helena smiled faintly. "You always see the best in others, Sir Alwyn."
Alwyn gave a slight nod before picking up the folder from the desk. "I'll continue with my duties. Lady Helena, if there are any further developments regarding Lady Athaleyah, report them to me immediately."
"Of course, Sir Alwyn," Helena replied, bowing her head slightly in respect.
Alwyn turned toward the door but paused before leaving. "One more thing, Lady Helena. The Duke trusts us to ensure that the Manor and Eldoria continue to function without hindrance. Let's not allow our suspicions to distract us from our main tasks."
Helena nodded. "I understand, Sir Alwyn."
Alwyn took a deep breath, his eyes scanning the pile of unfinished documents. He didn't know how many nights he had stayed awake, but these tasks couldn't be delayed. Out there, in Inner Skythia, the situation was worsening. The abandoned castle construction was adding to the public unrest. The railway, which should have been a symbol of imperial strength, had instead become a source of uncertainty.
"Will we continue like this?" Helena stood in front of Alwyn, her voice low yet laden with emphasis. She looked at him with sympathy, as if she knew that Alwyn was battling tremendous pressure.
"What can we do?" Alwyn furrowed his brow, the frustration rising within him. "Right now, all we can do is wait and hope that the issues in Aldor and Granthar don't escalate further. The castle construction in Aldor can't just be halted. The Duke wants Inner Skythia to stabilize, but the longer it goes on, the more dangerous everything becomes."
Helena didn't respond. She just looked at Alwyn, understanding the doubt reflected in his expression. His job wasn't just about running administration—it was about maintaining the fragile balance of power.
"What about Captain Drevas?" Helena asked, mentioning the captain dealing with the chaos in Inner Skythia. "Have you agreed on a new strategy?"
Alwyn exhaled deeply, feeling the weight of the burden on his shoulders. "Marcel isn't easy to compromise with," he replied quietly. "He's a professional, but we have different views on how to handle the local populace. Our relationship is more than just a working partnership. We know each other too well."
Helena raised an eyebrow, as if urging Alwyn to elaborate further.
"He's from Kargavs," Alwyn added, mentioning the small region at the edge of Outer Skythia, known for its harsh military background. "His family has been military for generations. Marcel was raised in a tradition that demands flawless discipline. That's what makes him hard—sometimes too hard. He sees obedience as everything."
"And you're different?" Helena asked, a flicker of curiosity in her eyes.
Alwyn chuckled softly, but it was hollow. "Me? I'm more used to negotiations. If something can be resolved without a sword, I'll choose that route. But Marcel? To him, the sword is the only language the world respects."
Helena smiled faintly. "But he respects you."
"That's because he knows I won't back down," Alwyn answered firmly. "We respect each other, even though we argue often. We know that if one of us falls, the other must carry on."
For a moment, silence enveloped them. But for Alwyn, thoughts of Marcus stirred an undercurrent of anxiety he couldn't shake. They might be two professionals who understood each other's strengths and weaknesses, but this time, he felt like they were both stepping into terrain far too dangerous.
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Plitik... Plitik... Plitik...
In the deep of the night, in the vast, silent room, only the sound of wood crackling in the fireplace broke the stillness. The hissing flames became the only sound to accompany the oppressive silence.
Atthy awoke after fainting earlier in the carriage that morning. Her vision was blurry, and her body felt weak. The unfamiliar surroundings seemed to consume all her strength and awareness. Her eyes tried to adjust to the surrounding darkness, but it wasn't easy. She blinked, confused, trying to recall what had happened, and then slowly tried to sit up.
As soon as she straightened her back, her heart leaped out of her chest, causing her blood to freeze.
Beside her bed, a man sat. Silent. Staring at her without blinking. His eyes were sharp, as though something unseen was piercing through the depths of his gaze.
Atthy's body tensed. There was a coldness creeping into her bones. The atmosphere felt thick with a thin fog that couldn't be seen by the eyes but was felt by every part of her body.
Hugh. She knew. There were no words needed to recognize him. His aura—something terrifying, full of power and threat—clung to him, as though it sucked the air from the space around him. It felt like facing something more than human. Like facing the god of war, whether in human form or some kind of evil entity that ruled the world.
"Awake now?" Hugh's voice was flat, so low it seemed to echo in Atthy's ears, seeping into her mind and making her even more alert.
Atthy couldn't look away. Without saying a word, there was only a feeling of dread sinking into her chest. Her eyes continued to lock with Hugh's, trying to assess the threat, trying to avoid appearing weak.
But her body was stiff, her throat dry, and his voice... Hugh's voice... was flowing with no emotion, but in the silence of the night, it felt like lightning ready to strike.
"Drink," Hugh said softly, without changing his expression. Then, with very deliberate movements, he rose from his seat, showing no hint of hesitation. Perhaps Hugh knew very well that Atthy's anxiety would continue to haunt her. He didn't need many words. His silence alone was enough to make Atthy feel an overwhelming fear.
Hugh held out a glass of water to Atthy. In that instant, everything felt unnervingly quiet. Too quiet, to the point that every second felt squeezed by the tension creeping into her body. But at that moment, Atthy's body reacted instinctively. With trembling hands, she reached for the glass. Her gaze never left Hugh, who stood completely motionless.
After handing her the water, Hugh turned and left the room with calm steps, as though there was nothing left to think about. The atmosphere around Atthy returned to silence.
Atthy was speechless. She found it strange that this large man had just left her like that, as though she meant nothing to him.
"What's his deal?!" Atthy muttered, her confusion growing.
"Why is he like that?! What does he want?!" She pondered, her thoughts spinning as she tried to process the situation. It was like seeing a creature from another world. Atthy felt something was wrong. She should have been scared, but instead, she was just confused.
"That war god aura, always facing death and disaster, and his huge physique, it fits him perfectly," Atthy mumbled, staring at the empty spot where Hugh had just been. "Lucky he's handsome, or women might give birth prematurely at the sight of his fierce appearance... But seriously, how do Alwyn and Randy even work with him? They must be suffering."
She shook her head, feeling somewhat sorry for the two of them.
"Tch, poor them..." Atthy muttered again, imagining how difficult it must be for Alwyn and Randy to work with someone as terrifying as Hugh. "He's wasting that handsome face... No wonder he doesn't have a beautiful wife..." Atthy chuckled softly, considering it humorous, though there was still an underlying tension in her heart that couldn't be denied.
"HA!!!" Atthy suddenly shouted as if she had just figured out something big. "Could it be... because of that?! That's why he proposed to me?!"
She mumbled faster and louder. "That's it! He must think I could be... yeah, the perfect bride for him!"
The realization hit Atthy harder, and before she knew it, she began to shout, even scream into the vast empty room, "OLD BASTARD!!" Her voice echoed through the large space.
Afterward, she slapped her hand over her mouth in panic. She had screamed twice already, and now she felt embarrassed with herself.
"Ahh, this is crazy... Why did I shout like that?" she thought to herself.
Atthy suddenly realized how absurd her behavior was. She had simply reacted in shock, but now she understood that the man before her was a young, handsome, and imposing figure. Definitely not the old, foul-smelling man that Ash, her father, or Ay, her younger brother, had described.
"Not!... Definitely not!" Atthy spoke to herself, staring confusedly at the door where Hugh had exited. "He's handsome and strong, there's no way he's as old as a grandfather! Was I wrong? Maybe he's just been sent by his father...?" Atthy muttered to herself. "Argh! I don't care anymore! I can't think of anything right now!"
She stared blankly for a moment, her eyes empty, before she let out all the confusion she had been holding in. All the chaotic emotions she had felt since first encountering Hugh on the carriage, they all unraveled quickly in the form of complaints and disarray.
After venting her frustrations and laughing at herself, Atthy finally began to feel exhausted. She closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep, even though her mind was still full of questions.
The large room fell silent once again, leaving only a slight tension, but also a sense of relief. Atthy finally fell back into a deep sleep, leaving the world of unanswered questions that for now, she had to ignore.
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