Chapter 96: The Headmaster’s Submission

Chapter 96

Sigrid took a slow, deliberate sip from her teacup, letting the warm herbal blend soothe the quiet tension lingering in her throat. Opposite her, Lady Beatrice cupped her own porcelain dish, her vibrant countenance glowing with genuine satisfaction. Setting her cup down on the silver saucer with a soft clink, Beatrice’s eyes lit up with sudden warmth. "This afternoon has been utterly lovely, Sigrid," Beatrice declared, her smile softening into something far more tender than her usual breathless chatter.

"I am truly pleased to hear that, my lady," Sigrid replied, offering a mild, serene nod. Yet before the peaceful silence could fully settle over the parlour, Beatrice’s smile faltered, replaced by a delicate, sudden frown of apprehension.

"Sigrid... Duke Soren will undoubtedly be called upon to lead our grand forces when this impending war erupts, will he not?" Beatrice asked softly, her brow furrowing with genuine concern. Sigrid gave a simple, stoic affirmative nod, prompting Beatrice to lean forward slightly. "Do you not fear for him? You two have been married for less than a full month. You are still newlyweds, after all. Does it not terrify you to think that he may depart from this earth upon some distant battlefield, or do you not fear how deeply you will miss his presence?"

A quiet, almost imperceptible chuckle escaped Sigrid’s lips at the absurd notion of Soren perishing in the coming conflict. The very idea of the Northern Duke falling on a battlefield was entirely impossible; the man was a monstrous, terrifying force of nature whose absolute prowess in combat was unrivaled across the continent. Turning her gaze toward her guest, Sigrid spoke with unshakeable conviction. "You may rest completely assured, Lady Beatrice. The Duke will return victorious, as he always does."

"I do not doubt his unmatched strength for a single moment," Beatrice clarified quickly, her eyes searching Sigrid’s calm face. "But surely... will you not miss him while he is away?"

Sigrid remained silent for a long, heavy moment. Deep within her chest, her mind reluctantly conceded the quiet truth. She knew that, in her own subtle way, she would indeed miss his stoic, unyielding behavior and the strange, quiet comfort his heavy presence provided. Rising slowly from her armchair with practiced elegance, Sigrid looked down at her guest. I have grown far too accustomed to his constant presence at my side, she admitted internally, her heart tightening slightly at the realization. It will certainly feel strange and unnerving when he is no longer here. Yet aloud, she smoothed the front of her dark velvet gown and assumed her cold, majestic posture. "Even if that were true, as the Duchess of the North, I cannot afford to indulge in such fragile, tender emotions, nor can I allow my personal attachment to deprive Arkovia of its greatest defender."

Beatrice’s eyes lit up with profound admiration, her earlier worry dissolving into enthusiastic praise. "You speak with such magnificent dignity, Sigrid! But we both know deep down that His Grace will return safely to your side."

Sigrid escorted Beatrice through the grand, arching hallways toward the heavy front doors of the fortress. Upon reaching the threshold, Beatrice turned and threw her arms around Sigrid in another warm, uninhibited hug. "This visit was absolute perfection! I shall certainly return very soon, as I have an endless supply of capital gossip to share with you."

"You are extraordinarily bouncy and energetic, Beatrice," Sigrid noted, a faint, amused twitch gracing her lips. "However, do you not find it somewhat peculiar to act so affectionately toward someone with whom you are still largely unfamiliar?"

Beatrice pulled back, tilting her head with a look of endearing confusion. "Is that not the entire point of spending time together, Sigrid? So that we may gradually become more familiar with one another?" Sigrid blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the girl’s pure, unpretentious logic, before offering a gentle nod and bidding her guest a safe journey back to her family’s estate.

Once the carriage dissolved into the swirling white mist of the northern landscape, Sigrid let out a long, heavy sigh. Lady Beatrice was akin to a sudden, overwhelming whirlpool of bright sunshine breaking through the dreary northern sky. Yet a soft, rare smile touched Sigrid’s lips as she watched the distant road. Beatrice was truly lovely, standing out as one of the very few noblewomen Sigrid had encountered who remained utterly humble despite her exalted birth as a Duke’s daughter, treating Sigrid with genuine, unforced respect rather than underlying spite.

Beside her, Lilith offered a respectful bow, her dark eyes filled with quiet amusement. "Milady, are you feeling well?" the maid asked softly.

"I am fine, Lilith. Merely exhausted," Sigrid murmured, running a slender hand over her temple.

Lilith let out a soft, melodious laugh, prompting Sigrid to tilt her head with a sharp, inquiring smirk. "Pray tell, what do you find so humorous, Lilith?"

"Only that you and Lady Beatrice are absolute opposites, Your Grace," Lilith answered merrily, stepping closer to her mistress. "You are so profoundly reserved and introverted, whereas she is entirely extroverted. I simply found it quite amusing to witness you looking so drained from ordinary, casual conversation between noble ladies."

Sigrid’s smirk deepened into a sharp, teasing glint. "It is hardly wise for a maid to take such bold pleasure in the quiet suffering of her employer, my dear Lilith."

Lilith’s eyes widened in sudden panic, and she instantly dropped into a deep, nervous bow. "Forgive me, Milady! I spoke far out of turn—"

"Quiet your heart, Lilith. I was merely joking," Sigrid interrupted smoothly, her tone softening as she turned toward the grand courtyard. Feeling the bitter, piercing bite of the northern wind rushing through the open archway, she pulled her arms close to her chest. "Fetch my heavy winter coat, if you would."

Once Lilith returned and draped the fur-lined cloak over her shoulders, Sigrid stepped out into the pristine snow of the fortress gardens. The biting, arctic air crisping against her skin made it remarkably easier to think clearly, clearing away the lingering exhaustion. Her thoughts immediately gravitated back to her grand strategy regarding Maria’s impending ascension to Crown Princess. Maria undoubtedly believed that her mystical visions gave her an absolute, godlike foresight over the future, allowing her to set inescapable traps. A cold, wicked smirk spread across Sigrid’s face as she walked along the frost-covered stone path. Maria foolishly assumes she holds the ultimate advantage because she believes she can see my future, Sigrid mused, her crimson eyes gleaming with lethal ambition. If she relies so heavily upon her visions to trap me, then I shall simply craft a bloody future she has never once foreseen.

Halting her steps near a frozen fountain, Sigrid turned toward her loyal maid. "Lilith, prepare a formal missive at once and dispatch it directly to Marquess Caspian. Inform him that I require a private audience with him tomorrow morning."

Lilith bowed her head respectfully. "It shall be done immediately, Your Grace."

Sigrid placed a thoughtful hand beneath her chin, her mind calculating the necessary resources required to execute her grand strategy. I can easily leverage Caspian’s vast, shadowy intelligence network to my absolute advantage, she reflected silently. "Tell me, Lilith... has the Marquess received the initial allocation of funds I requested from our treasury?"

Lilith hesitated, her expression darkening slightly as she lowered her head. "No, Milady. The request was formally denied."

Sigrid’s brows knitted together into a sharp, icy frown. "Denied? Upon whose authority? I was given explicit governance over the ducal treasury."

"Headmaster Orion rejected the requisition, Your Grace," Lilith explained cautiously. "He claimed the sum was far too substantial to be released without his personal sign-off."

Sigrid sighed softly, dismissing Lilith to write the missive while she turned her steps back toward the warm interior of the main estate. How tiresome, Sigrid thought, her eyes narrowing as she crossed the threshold into the great hall. I knew Orion held immense reservations regarding my presence, but to openly interfere with my requisitions is an arrogance I will not tolerate.

Approaching a nearby guard standing at attention near the grand archway, Sigrid issued a swift, commanding order. "Summon Headmaster Orion to my private study immediately."

Within moments, the stern, elderly headmaster entered the study, bowing with practiced, stiff efficiency. "You requested my presence, Duchess?" Orion asked, his voice completely devoid of warmth.

Sigrid leaned back against the mahogany desk, her crimson eyes locking onto the man with cold, unyielding authority. "Orion, for what reason did you dare deny a direct financial requisition made on my authority?"

Orion’s expression remained steadfast, refusing to waver under her intense gaze. "I was unaware that the request originated from you, Your Grace. A maid simply presented a demand for an extraordinary sum of ducal gold to be transferred directly to the Caspian household. As the steward responsible for His Grace’s assets, I investigated their estate and discovered their family finances have been rapidly evaporating without clear explanation. Naturally, I was deeply concerned. I am accustomed to being fully informed regarding all major expenditures."

Sigrid let out a quiet, tired breath, refusing to engage in his tedious bureaucracy. "Let us not waste time with hollow pretenses, Orion. I am fully aware that you do not trust me and view my every action with intense suspicion. However, your actions are bordering on absolute folly. I remain your Duchess, legally appointed and recognized by the crown and your master. Soren has warned you on numerous occasions to treat me with proper deference, yet you persistently choose to undermine my position."

Orion shifted slightly, a flicker of tension passing over his hardened features, though he remained silent.

"I know that your cold distrust stems entirely from your deep, unwavering loyalty to your master," Sigrid continued, her tone dropping into a dangerous, soft register. In Sigrid’s previous life, Orion remained at Soren’s side until the very end, perishing as his loyal shield when the world abandoned him, she recalled bitterly, honoring the man’s sacrifice despite his current insolence. I have no desire to strip Soren of the one man who stood by him when everyone else treated him like a monster.

Sigrid fixed Orion with an icy, imposing stare. "Because I recognize your immense value to the Duke, I have refrained from informing him of your persistent insolence. However, I will no longer tolerate your quiet rebellion. Do not continue to insult your master by showing open disrespect to his lawful wife."

Orion’s eyes widened in genuine, momentary shock. The sharp realization that she was fully aware of his master’s warnings—yet chose to address the matter privately rather than seeking his execution or dismissal—struck a deep, unexpected chord within him. Lowering his head into a far deeper, far more authentic bow than before, Orion spoke in a low, measured voice. "I offer my sincerest apologies, Duchess Sigrid."

Sigrid studied his bowed form, recognizing that while his deep-rooted suspicion had not entirely vanished, a profound layer of caution and newfound interest had taken its place. "I do not require your hollow apologies, Orion," Sigrid replied calmly, crossing her arms. "I simply require your absolute non-interference. You will not impede my actions or query my requisitions again."

"It shall be as you command, Your Grace," Orion stated firmly, bowing once more before turning and exiting the study with heavy, deliberate footsteps.

As the heavy oak doors clicked shut, Lilith re-entered the room, carrying a fresh scroll bearing the Caspian seal. "The missive has been prepared and dispatched, Milady. Marquess Caspian will await your audience tomorrow at dawn."

"Thank you, Lilith," Sigrid said softly, stepping back toward the grand window overlooking the icy expanse of the North. A cold, predatory smile slowly bloomed across her face as she stared out into the pale twilight. The pieces were moving into place with exquisite precision, and no one—neither the Queen, nor Ragnar, nor Orion, nor Maria herself—would stop the storm she was preparing to unleash upon the capital.

But first she had something to do first.