My pupils dilated like blooming yellow flowers, then withered back to their normal state.
"There is no medicine," I said quietly.
Herzol had gone uncured for three hundred years.
The disease that had plagued Valmonde—a curse upon those forced to live in perpetual cold—had become something else entirely: a tax incentive. When a child was born with Herzol, the family received a year's taxes written off. This made the disease profitable for the territory's economy.
Past heads of the Vermont family had warned their successors: the Ice Baptism ceremony must never cease, no matter the hardship. Because of the reward, no one refused it. If it were reduced, fewer children would be born. If Herzol returned to epidemic proportions in a land already losing residents, the family's power would crumble.
Vermont had always known: a fiefdom's strength came from its population.
Herzol wasn't entirely without remedy. But there was no incentive to cure a disease that no longer spread. The expensive, difficult-to-obtain ingredients simply disappeared. Most recipes were lost to time.
"I can't stand this," Kaian's voice grew louder, the patience he'd shown for days crumbling. "Must you be so negative about everything?"
"It's not negative. It's realistic," I replied.
"You certainly have a gift for words. How have I endured this for so long?"
I wanted to respond, but speaking caused coughing. I had to remain silent.
As I coughed, Kaian's eyes grew bloodshot, his gaze darkening with fury.
I pressed my hand to my chest, trying to suppress the bleeding.
After witnessing my illness in such raw form, Kaian seemed to lose control—like a volcano erupting with molten rage.
*How dare cunning Vermont deceive Temnes!*
I could see the thought crystallizing in his mind: *Were you planning to die here and then save yourself? Isn't this convenient—bearing children you might produce?*
Though we'd been intimate multiple times, I couldn't bear to face him in his current state. The anger he felt at discovering my Herzol seemed to resurface each time he saw me cough, each time he witnessed blood.
*Death will not give you rest,* he'd said coldly, as though reading my thoughts.
I couldn't understand his logic. Why couldn't he simply allow me to occupy some quiet corner of this vast castle? Why did he keep coming to rage at me?
When my coughing finally subsided, the room became as harsh and unforgiving as Valmonde's ice fortress during deepest winter.
Unable to meet his eyes, I spoke softly, my head bowed.
"It's acceptable if I move to another room."
"What do you mean?" His voice was sharp.
"This is the Duchess's chamber. I can move to a guest room or somewhere else... before I die here." I paused, a dark thought surfacing. "The next Duchess might not appreciate finding me here."
I had a vague sense of who that next Duchess might be.
"That's not even remotely funny!" Kaian's voice rose dangerously. "Are you truly—"
Each time his anger flared, his red eyes grew more luminous—inhuman, almost. He appeared like a demon emerged from hell's flames, like the legendary fire dragon about to unleash its devastating breath.
"I finally understand why I get angry every time I see you," he said quietly.
My fear mingled with curiosity. "Why? Is there another reason besides the fact that I'm from Vermont?"
"Speak freely. Don't fear me," he commanded, his teeth gritted.
"You've been thinking cunningly, cowardly—planning to simply die and escape all responsibility. I despise people like you." His hands gripped my thin shoulders roughly, shaking me until our eyes met. "Do you think you can just change rooms? Do you believe you have something to request of me now?"
He pulled me closer, his grip almost crushing.
"This ends now. Remember this."
His words entered through my ears but seemed to be burned directly into my retinas—a vision I'd never forget, paired with his terrifying expression.
"There is nothing in the land of Rowan that does not bend to my will."
With that, he stormed from the bedroom.
I began coughing again, a slow start that evolved into a prolonged, wracking fit.
---
## Kaian
The moment he exited the Duchess's chamber, Kaian screamed with a strange exhilaration.
"Yes!"
The force of his shout caused something to shatter somewhere in the castle.
He smiled as he headed toward his office.
*I'm going to witness something good happen.*
Every time he'd visited Claudel, he'd gradually revealed what he was hiding inside. There was no further need for pretense now. It was almost a relief—no more having to deceive her.
He was afraid she would die. So he couldn't simply leave her alone.
*Is anyone truly unafraid of death?*
When Kaian entered the battlefield, he felt no fear. He was confident—absolutely certain—that he would survive. Others found this incomprehensible, but he carried this certainty like armor.
Kaian had never experienced failure in his life. He'd never felt bitterness and didn't believe he ever would.
Then Claudel appeared.
His marriage to an enemy and his wife's impending death threatened to tarnish his perfect record—a stain he couldn't accept.
But the woman he'd considered insignificant had removed her mask of indifference. She clung to him, speaking as though what was happening was natural, inevitable.
*I'm frightened. Please do something.*
Yet she hadn't asked to be saved.
This was unprecedented.
Those Kaian had faced in combat begged for their lives. He decided their fates. But Claudel had taken that power from him. She, who had lived alone with the terror of her approaching death, had surrendered everything.
A drowning person grasps at straws. Claudel was extraordinary in her ability to transform the great and powerful Lord of Temnes into nothing more than straw in the water—something to cling to in her desperation and loneliness.
*What in that small head could possibly make her suggest moving rooms?* he wondered, finding her logic incomprehensible.
One thing was certain: something very strange existed in Claudel's mind—something beyond common understanding.
---
Kaian sat at his office desk when the butler entered.
"My Lord, the doctor requests an audience."
"Send him in."
A middle-aged man with graying hair soon entered, bowing respectfully.
"Greetings to the Lord of Temnes."
"Report," Kaian said simply. "What of the matter I tasked you with?"
The doctor's hesitation was evident—understandable, given his lack of progress.
Kaian had posted a substantial bounty for information about Herzol's cure. Results had been disappointing. The disease only manifested near Valmonde Castle, in the coldest regions of the territory. He could only theorize it developed over time in those who lived perpetually in such extreme cold. The southern territories, temperate and warm like Rowan, had never experienced such an outbreak. Without historical precedent, northern diseases remained largely mysterious.
Kaian believed money could solve anything, and he'd pursued this belief relentlessly. The bounty had been raised twice. Doctors and alchemists had been engaged to analyze every prescription and remedy brought forward.
But all had been fraudulent—people seeking easy wealth with false cures. Still no path to saving Claudel had emerged.
"I haven't found anything reliable yet," the doctor admitted reluctantly.
"Raise the bounty again," Kaian commanded.
"No, wait." The doctor held up a hand. "The acquisition method is... questionable. But I found a prescription that appears genuine."
"Explain," Kaian said sharply.
"The envelope bears the Vermont family seal."
Kaian's expression hardened. "Bring whoever brought this to me."
Moments later, the doctor returned with a shabby old man whose hands trembled at the sight of Kaian. His eyes remained fixed downward, and his demeanor was entirely different from those who came seeking bounty money from mere curiosity.
"Do you possess a genuine Herzol cure prescription?" Kaian asked.
"Yes, my Lord. I do."
"Show me."
With shaking hands, the old man placed a worn envelope on Kaian's desk.
When Kaian saw the Vermont seal, he instinctively frowned. An enemy's mark—it offered him no comfort.
"Did you steal this?"
"No, my Lord! Never!"
"Then how did you acquire it?"
The old man's lips were dry, cracked. He wet them nervously.
"I am... diminished now. But years ago, I operated a substantial herbal medicine shop. A person would visit regularly, selling medicinal herbs gathered from the mountains. One day, he gave me money and this prescription, asking me to obtain ingredients for Herzol medicine."
His hands trembled as though Kaian's gaze alone might destroy him.
"You kept an unopened prescription for years? Did you extort him?"
"No! Absolutely not, my Lord!" The old man stood abruptly. "There was a fire in his village. I searched, but never found him again. Ten years have passed with me unable to decide what to do."
"You're lying."
"I swear it's true!"
"Then explain your current poverty," Kaian said coldly. "You clearly spent the money."
The old man's weathered face flushed with shame and emotion.
"I have never done anything dishonorable before heaven. Please believe me. My son—the child I raised—squandered our family's fortune. I'm suffering in my later years because of his failures. I simply hoped this bounty might provide some relief."
Kaian studied him for a long moment, then gestured to the butler.
"Pay him double the bounty."
"Thank you! Thank you, my Lord!" The old man bowed repeatedly, moved to tears.
It was then that something fell from his shabby pocket—a carved piece of red jade, round and flat, with strange patterns etched into its center.
Kaian's eyes narrowed. "Are you a survivor of Plonne Village?"
The old man's face went pale. "No! This belonged to the person who entrusted me with the prescription. I've kept it safe."
"Leave it," Kaian commanded.
The old man hastily set it beside the envelope and retreated.
Once alone, Kaian opened the enemy's sealed envelope.
Inside was a prescription written on gold leaf—the type Vermont used for military records.
"This appears authentic," the doctor confirmed, examining it carefully.
"Gather the ingredients immediately," Kaian ordered.
"There's a problem," the doctor said reluctantly. "I don't believe we can obtain even a single ingredient."
"Why?"
"The main component was used exclusively for Herzol medicine. It hasn't been needed for centuries, so no one produces or trades it anymore."
The butler, glancing at the prescription, nodded in agreement.
"The heart of a young wild buffalo," the doctor read aloud.
The wild water buffalo—creatures whose name had become a proverb: *even a lion can't extract a bone from one.*
These massive animals, nearly three meters in length, lived in protective herds. Their devotion to young was absolute. If a young buffalo sensed even the slightest threat, the entire herd would attack with devastating force, crushing anything—lion, armored knight, anything—beneath hooves weighing more than a ton until nothing remained but unrecognizable fragments.
"There would be no way to hunt one now," the doctor said quietly.
Kaian's eyebrows rose. "Are you suggesting the impossible in front of me?"
He leaned back in his chair, his red eyes gleaming with absolute certainty.
"Find it."
---