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Cesare froze in the middle of the tavern, as if struck by thunder, with an ashen sword in hand.
He’d killed dozens of people.
For the first time—peaceful inhabitants.
Since he was the commander-in-chief of the imperial army, he didn't have the right to this.
Under imperial laws, the men in the tavern were innocent.
To carve corpses of the executed is not a crime.
But Cesare killed them.
Slit all their throats, drenched himself in blood from head to foot—and the stuffy weight in the chest didn't pass.
On the contrary, it became only worse: as if someone squeezed the throat ever stronger.
The girl whom he so cherished and protected was beheaded on the guillotine.
The body was hacked into pieces, and the severed head was exhibited in the tavern for general viewing.
Only having killed dozens of bastards gripped by lustful excitement did Cesare understand what he actually wanted.
Not the Traon Empire did he try to defend.
His laurel wreath belonged to Eileen alone.
But Eileen no more existed here.
Having realized this in full measure, Cesare felt how something inside him broke.
The rending pain was stronger than ordinary anger.
This feeling surpassed all that he’d experienced in all his life.
For Cesare, whose emotions were always colorless, this agony was unbearable.
Cesare looked at his hands drenched in blood and thought: *‘Whom else is it necessary to kill to cease this torment?’* But his usually sharp mind didn't suggest an answer.
Only a bottomless emptiness, stretching to nowhere.
***
Having come out of the state drugged by memories, Cesare lead with a hand over his face.
To return to reality, he methodically organized his thoughts.
Clearly divided the borders between reality and visions, with difficulty gathered the scattered consciousness.
Rain importunately drummed in the ears.
It overflowed him with a desire to grab a knife or a pistol and cut himself to shreds.
But this is reality.
A world where Eileen exists.
He’d already committed madness—if she sees even greater, she won't withstand.
Squelching useless impulses, Cesare approached Eileen.
She lay in bed, completely shattered.
He silently looked at her pale, nearly like a deceased's, face, then unexpectedly leaned, having approached her head.
Having listened to her breath, he cautiously lead with fingers over the bandage on the neck.
Remembered the traces of his fingers under it—and swallowed a bitter smirk.
*“Ridiculous, Eileen.”*
Fingers sliding over the white fabric slightly trembled.
Cesare whispered useless words to her who couldn't hear them: *“I nearly killed you with my own hands.”*
For the sake of her salvation he’d passed through so many torments—and nearly destroyed all.
Thought that now all was in order, but if he already didn't distinguish dream from reality, it means he’d broken considerably.
It was necessary to end with this while he hadn't disintegrated finally.
"Eileen." Cesare cautiously lay nearby her.
Knowing that now he was dangerous for her more than all, all the same he couldn't let go—tightly pressed her small body to himself.
*“Eileen...”*
All this sleepless night Cesare only and did that he looked at Eileen.
***
Returned all in bruises, she now also was with a bandage on the neck.
How to explain this to others?
Especially the servants of the ducal estate or Sogno—she didn't know what to say.
But no one asked Eileen what happened and how she’d been wounded.
Apparently, Cesare beforehand settled all.
*‘Cesare-nim...’* Eileen put away the pen and sighed.
Having woken in the morning, she discovered that Cesare already had left.
There were a multitude of questions for him, but she felt that, were he nearby, she wouldn't have managed to ask a single one.
Words spoken by him when he was strangling her were remembered.
*“Love you.”*
Earlier she didn't understand Cesare, and now—even more so.
Always believed that he has his reasons, and simply waited, whatever he might do.
*‘But he after all got wounded.’* The image of his blood-red eyes looking straight at her when he’d lead with palm over her neck didn't let go.
She feared that he would again cause himself harm.
*‘What if this is repeated?’*
The best decision—to find and eliminate the reason.
How to force Cesare to be a little more open?
Or find another way to understand his strange behavior—she was breaking head over this when...
"Mistress." Sogno cautiously called her.
Eileen startle.
The pen frozen over the paper left a blotch.
With fear having pulled back hand, she looked at Sogno with a guilty look.
*‘All is in order.
These are not important documents.’*
He gave her a clean sheet.
Eileen deeply inhaled and exhaled.
Thanks to Sogno's intensive lessons she’d already mastered the larger part of the duties. in recent time he only helped and checked.
If she pulled up the several remaining gaps, soon she would be able to handle herself.
Eileen again moved the pen over the paper.
Because of the injury of the throat she’d decided today not to speak, so communication with Sogno had to be in writing.
[Look, please].
Eileen stretched out to him the leaf.
Having sunk into thought about Cesare, she for a time forgot, but today exactly she wanted to show this and learn his opinion.
On the paper was the schedule of the day of Duchess Erzet.
Planning her duties, she carefully thought through how to combine them with studies of Morpheus and the apothecary business.
In the basis lay her understanding of life in the ducal estate.
So far this was only her draft, and she wanted to hear Sogno's opinion.
In case of his objections she’d prepared three more variants.
*‘And if he rejects all?’*
While Sogno was reading, she watched his reaction and wrote:
[In the morning—duties of the duchess, after lunch—studies. and after dinner—finish the duchess's matters...
How is such a variant to you?]
She waited for the answer with impatience.
Sogno looked at her with a touching expression.
"I said, it's not obligatory for you so to concern yourself about the duchess's duties..." In his gaze was expressed paternal pride.
Doing that which she anyway must, and receiving for this praise, she was embarrassed.
Eileen awkwardly scratched her cheek with the back side of the pen and again wrote:
[And still...
I want to take a new assistant].
Sogno was the main manager of the Erzet ducal house.
Thanks to his teaching she’d quickly mastered the duchess's duties.
But one could not eternally depend on him.
Sogno had enough concerns with supporting Cesare and other matters of the ducal house.
It was time to let him go.
Eileen couldn't put up with the fact that Cesare's people spend time on her.
But for some reason Sogno was in no hurry to agree.
He was silent for a time, then answered with a dejected voice: "If you desire, I will prepare all."
The answer sounded offended and sad.
Eileen quickly wrote:
[I very much like your help!
But you cannot eternally be occupied only with me].
However Sogno's face didn't clear.
He muttered, all as-before gloomy: "Taking away from an old man the joy of the last years..."
In the end Eileen promised that she would still more than once turn to him for help.
Having finished the discussion of the schedule, she again took up the pen.
[And still, Sogno-nim...] Having hesitated, she continued: [Cesare-nim behaves himself strangely].
Explaining more detailedly was not required—Sogno understood what the speech was about.
Eileen bit her lip.
Then for the first time she decided to abuse the power of the duchess.
[Could you not call his knights?]