Chapter 58: A Hundred Fatal Strikes

Chapter 58

The subterranean passage beneath the fortress was a dark, iron-stained corridor where the air hung heavy with the reek of damp stone and ancient rust. The only sounds echoing against the jagged walls were the rhythmic creak of rotting floorboards, the distant rattle of iron chains, and the proud, whispered chatter of two maids treading downward into the dark.

Aliyah and Nesha moved with hasty confidence, clutching a flickering iron lantern between them as they giggled softly under their breath. They traded glowing praises of their own brilliant cunning, congratulating each other on finally putting that arrogant, fake Duchess in her place. In their minds, the lethal herbal draught had already taken its toll, and they eagerly anticipated bringing the joyful news to their beloved mistress, confident she would reward their unyielding loyalty.

Reaching the farthest wing of the dungeon, they paused before a heavy cell barred with cold iron. Within the shadows sat Lady Hildegard, looking like a hollow shell of her former self. The once-haughty noblewoman was stooped, her hair matted, and her fine garments reduced to rags, giving her the miserable appearance of a common laborer. The two maids felt a surge of bitter anger at the sight, furious that a highborn lady had been reduced to such squalor by an outsider. "Mistress," Aliyah whispered eagerly through the bars, her voice trembling with excitement. "We have done it! We have avenged the insolence you suffered! That wretched girl shall trouble you no more—we poisoned her tea!"

Hildegard stirred slowly from the straw, her hollow, dark-ringed eyes widening in utter disbelief as the words registered. "You... you did what?" she rasped, her voice cracking with sudden terror.

Nesha leaned closer, smiling proudly. "We punished her, Milady! She is paying for what she did to you!"

Hildegard mustered every ounce of her dwindling strength, pushing herself up and hurling her gaunt frame against the iron bars. "You foolish, ignorant wretched girls!" she shrieked in a harsh, desperate whisper. "Are you courting your own deaths? I am imprisoned here because I dared plot against the Duke—this is my eighth time in these cells, and I know how to survive it! Do not bring that monster’s wrath upon my head! Leave me! Do not come near me!"

The two maids recoiled, stunned by her furious reaction. "But... but Milady, we did it for you—"

"Did I beg you for such madness?" Hildegard spat, her eyes rolling in sheer panic. "You poisoned his betrothed within his own walls! Do you think Soren will stay his blade simply because he does not love her? She bears his crest! He will tear this fortress apart! Run, you mindless fools! Run far from this territory before the guards return, or you will sign my death warrant alongside your own!"

Terrified by the raw horror in Hildegard’s eyes, the two maids stumbled backward, dropping their proud demeanor as cold reality set in. Turning on their heels, they fled back down the dark corridor, their hearts pounding in their chests.

As they hurried toward the western archway leading to the outer square, Nesha tried to reassure her companion, her voice shaking violently. "It... it matters not! Even if the Duke searches, he will find nothing! We used that foolish younger maid as our scapegoat!"

Aliyah nodded frantically, trying to summon her previous arrogance. "Yes! That girl deserves to die anyway for treating us like common servants!" But just as they crossed the threshold of the iron gates into the chilly night air, a blinding flash of steel cut through the darkness. Before either woman could scream, the long, razor-sharp edge of a broadsword rested directly against the hilts of their throats, biting just deep enough into their skin to draw twin beads of crimson blood.

The two maids froze in absolute terror, the breath catching in their chests as Sigrid stepped slowly out of the shadows. The pale moonlight caught her crimson velvet gown and glowing red eyes, making her look like a terrifying specter returned from the grave. The maids’ eyes rolled backward in staggering horror, their knees threatening to give way as they stared at the living, breathing Duchess they believed to be dead.

Sigrid drank in their breathless fear, enjoying the exquisite agony of their shattered arrogance before giving a brief nod. "Sheathe your blade, Chester," she commanded smoothly. The knight withdrew his sword in a single fluid motion, though his hand remained rested firmly on the pommel.

Sigrid looked down at the two trembling women, her lips curling into a cruel, mocking smile. "I half-expected to find Hildegard accompanying you, but it seems she possesses far more wisdom than her foolish hounds. Did you truly believe you could escape after attempting to murder the mistress of this domain? Believing such a pathetic plot would succeed was the height of your stupidity. What if the Duke had consumed the cup? What if another servant had discarded it? What if I simply detected the foul stench you so carelessly brewed just as I did? Did your tiny minds even consider what Soren would do to you for attempting poison in his presence?"

Nesha swallowed hard, her voice trembling as she attempted to cling to a desperate lie. "W-We did no such thing! It was not us! We never served you tea, Your Grace! Why accuse us of such a crime?"

Sigrid’s crimson eyes gleamed with dark amusement. "Oh? Then who presented the cup?"

Aliyah quickly blurted out, "It was the younger maid! We saw her tamper with the pot in the kitchen!"

Sigrid chuckled softly. "How peculiar... a moment ago, you claimed you were nowhere near the tea when it was prepared." Before the maids could formulate another lie, a heavy, intimidating shadow detached itself from the stone archway behind them.

Soren stepped into the moonlight, his presence suffocatingly vast and lethal. "Save your breath," the Duke rumbled coldly. "The servant you sought to frame has already confessed her role and been dismissed. Your lies are useless."

Sigrid stepped closer, bending down slightly to look directly into their panicked faces. "My only lingering query is how two common housemaids managed to procure a rare derivative of Nightshade, laced with iron-root. Such a substance cannot be bought in any market, nor could common servants afford its price."

As the maids pressed their lips tightly together in terrified silence, Sigrid activated her judgment sight. Her glowing crimson eyes flashed, and the world around her dissolved into fragments of memory. She saw visions of the two maids whispering in dark alleys to southern merchants, spreading venomous rumors throughout the capital that the Duke and Duchess lived in a loveless, pathetic union. Then, the vision shifted to a dark alleyway where a tall man wrapped in a heavy travelling cloak handed them the vial of poison. As the hood fell back in the memory, revealing the man’s distinct, aristocratic features, Sigrid’s eyes widened in profound shock before the vision snapped shut.

So... it was him, Sigrid thought, her mind racing as she absorbed the dangerous reality of who had supplied the poison. Looking back down at the terrified maids, her expression hardened into absolute coldness. Leaning close to their ears, she whispered in a tone laced with undeniable authority, "Now, you will speak aloud every treacherous plot you hatched, and name every servant who aided you in neglecting the common folk."

As if seized by an invisible, unyielding force, the two maids’ eyes went blank. In monotone, mechanical voices, they began spewing forth every name, bribe, and secret agreement they had made, laying bare the entire web of corruption within the lower quarters.

Hearing the names of several key stewards and kitchen staff, Soren turned to his commander with an icy glare. "Orion, come. We have a house to purge." He hesitated briefly, looking back at Sigrid with a trace of concern. "Will you be fine here alone?"

Sigrid offered a serene, chilling smile. "Go, my Lord. Attend to your fortress. I shall handle these two pests myself."

Once Soren and Orion departed into the inner keep, Sigrid looked down at the entranced maids. "Your confession is complete," she whispered softly. "Now, take the small blades hidden in your skirts... and stab your own flesh one hundred times. That is your judgment."

Under the absolute thrall of her command, the two maids reached into their aprons, pulling out small utility knives. Tears of pure agony streamed down their faces as their minds screamed in terror, yet their hands moved with terrifying, mechanical precision. They began driving the blades into their own chests and arms, weeping and wailing into the cold night air, begging the heavens for mercy as their bodies disobeyed their desperate will to stop. Sigrid watched in stony silence, standing amidst the falling snow as the dark hours passed.

As the first faint rays of dawn began to break over the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pale gold and grey, the two maids inflicted their hundredth strike, collapsing lifeless onto the frosted cobblestones. Footsteps crunched against the snow as Soren walked up behind her, his cloak bearing fresh spots of blood from his own sweeping purge of the traitorous staff. He looked at the bodies, then at Sigrid’s calm, unbothered posture. "You stayed out here the entire night," he noted softly.

Sigrid turned to face him, smoothing her velvet gown. "And you were occupied purging the keep."

Soren nodded grimly. "We found ledgers and illegal contraband in their quarters that would have brought ruin upon us both had the Crown discovered them." Sigrid nodded slowly, though her thoughts remained anchored to the face she had witnessed in her vision. The realization that such a high-ranking figure was secretly pulling the strings behind the scenes in the Aethermor Fortress filled her with deep, calculated foreboding.

Soren offered his hand to her gently. "Come back inside, Sigrid. The chill is growing heavy."

Sigrid placed her hand in his, offering a quiet nod. "Very well, my Lord." Turning her head back toward the dead maids, Soren issued a final, cold command to the knight standing guard. "Orion... dispose of these carcasses far beyond the boundary walls."