Chapter 280: Monika [1]

Monika Becker was the daughter of a tenant lord of Rubenhart County, a baron whose lands and title had once seemed certain to remain within his family.

Her mother had died of sickness while Monika was still young. Afterward, her father had been her only close family, though he had never given her much of his time. The household continued to function, tutors came when he thought them necessary, and Monika lacked nothing that could be purchased. What she wanted from him was less easily obtained.

He often said that matters would have been simpler if he had a son.

Sometimes he made the remark while reviewing accounts or discussing the future of the territory. At other times, he said it in her presence without appearing to consider how it might make her feel. Monika learned not to react. He did not hate her, and she would have felt unfair accusing him of that, but he seldom treated her as someone whose abilities might be of use to him.

She tried to please him nonetheless.

When her tutors praised her work, she hoped he would hear about it. When he asked a question, she answered carefully, eager to show that she had listened to more than the lessons expected of a noble girl. She knew something of the estate’s affairs and had paid attention whenever she was permitted to remain near the men who discussed them.

Her father rarely seemed impressed.

As she grew older, Monika stopped expecting that she would inherit his responsibilities simply because she was his only child. A baron’s daughter possessed a title by association, but that did not guarantee that the lands would be placed in her hands. Her father had made his opinion of a woman ruling them clear enough, even when he avoided speaking directly about her future.

She thought he would find a young man he considered suitable, teach him what he needed to know, and marry him to her. The territory could then remain connected to his bloodline without requiring him to entrust it to his daughter.

Monika was prepared to accept that.

She was his only remaining child. If marriage was how she could fulfil her duty to the family, she did not intend to refuse merely because she might have preferred a different future. Her father had not produced another heir, and by then Monika believed it was too late for him to begin making arrangements for one.

Before he could settle any such matter, he died.

He had accompanied Count Eurich Van Rubenhart on one of the witch-hunting expeditions for which the Count was infamous. Monika had watched her father leave as he had on previous occasions, expecting him to return with the same stern manner and little to say about what he had done.

This time, news of his death returned instead.

Her younger uncle was quick to take charge afterward.

He was her father’s half-brother, born to a concubine, and had spent much of his life far removed from any reasonable prospect of inheriting. Monika had seen enough of the two men together to know that her father never allowed him to forget that distance. His remarks had often been contemptuous, sometimes delivered before servants or guests whose presence made the humiliation worse.

Her uncle had remembered all of it.

He had also wanted the territory for years. With his elder half-brother dead and only a thirteen-year-old daughter left behind, he saw no reason to let the opportunity pass.

Convincing Eurich required little effort. He would manage the lands, continue paying what was owed to Rubenhart, and serve the Count faithfully. Surely that was preferable to placing the responsibility in the hands of a girl who had barely entered her teens.

To the men making the decision, the answer seemed obvious.

Monika had not expected Eurich to rule otherwise. She knew enough about him to understand that he was unlikely to show particular interest in her wishes, and she had no powerful relative prepared to argue her case. Even had someone spoken on her behalf, she doubted it would have changed much.

That did not mean she was wholly incapable.

She had learned more than her uncle acknowledged and could have understood more with time. But no one had proposed teaching her to govern until she was ready. They spoke of her age as though it ended the matter permanently, and Monika had no means of making them listen to anything else.

She accepted the loss of the territory. What frightened her was the life she would be left to lead within her own home.

Her uncle’s resentment of her father had not ended with his death. Monika was still there, a reminder of the man who had despised him, and she could see how little affection he held for her.

His son, Aronn, was worse at concealing it.

He had disliked her before the change in their fortunes. Now that his father was to become tenant lord, Aronn treated his own position as an authority Monika should acknowledge at once. He reminded her often that he would be the heir and that she would have to obey him.

Some of his remarks frightened her enough that she could not repeat them to anyone. He spoke of keeping her as his personal plaything, taking pleasure in the way she fell silent when he said it. Whether he intended to carry out every threat was something she had no desire to discover.

There was no one she trusted to stop him.

Her father was dead. Her uncle had little reason to protect her from his own son, and the servants were already learning where their loyalties would need to lie. Monika still occupied a room in the mansion, but the house no longer felt like a place where she could expect safety simply because she belonged there.

It was during those days that she first met Ulrich.

Count Eurich came to finalise the documents confirming her uncle’s position as tenant lord. His son accompanied him, as he often did when his father conducted matters within Rubenhart County. Eurich was preparing Ulrich to inherit his own responsibilities, bringing him along to observe the arrangements he would eventually be expected to make himself.

For Monika, the visit was a rare interruption to the uneasy routine her life had become.

She had heard much about the Count, though little of it invited affection. Even so, receiving him in the mansion was an important occasion. She wanted to see him for herself, offer the greeting expected of her, and perhaps learn something of the young man who stood beside him.

She had been hurrying through the corridors when Aronn caught her.

A hand closed around her arm and pulled her sharply off course. Before she could find her footing, she struck the wall and fell to her knees.

“Ah!”

The cry escaped before she could hold it back. Pain spread through her shoulder where it had hit, and she remained on the floor for a moment, too startled to move.

Then she looked up.

Aronn stood over her with two friends beside him. All three were smiling.

He had evidently enjoyed the way she fell. His friends looked from Monika to him, waiting for whatever he intended to say next, and the sight made her want to get up before they could turn it into further entertainment.

“Where were you going, running like that?” Aronn asked.

He crossed his arms and waited, though he must already have known. The household had spent the morning preparing for the Count’s arrival. No one could have mistaken why Monika was heading toward the reception rooms.

She lowered her gaze briefly, then forced herself to answer.

“To greet the Count.”

She spoke quietly, hoping that would be enough. Aronn had stopped her, but surely even he would understand that keeping her away from an important guest could cause trouble.

The three boys burst into laughter instead.

“Greeting the Count?” Aronn repeated. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

Monika remained on her knees for a moment, one hand pressed against the shoulder that had struck the wall. His friends were still laughing, and she knew that standing up too quickly would only give them another opportunity to push her down.

“I—I am the daughter of the previous lord here,” she said. “My father served the Count faithfully.”

She tried to put some strength into the answer. Her father was dead, but that did not mean she had ceased to be his daughter. She still belonged to the family whose name Aronn now used as though it had always been his alone.

The boys laughed harder.

“Your father is dead, idiot,” Aronn said. “You don’t have much say in anything anymore.”

Monika’s fingers tightened against her skirt.

“The only reason you’re still here is the Becker name,” he continued. “And my father holds all authority over that now. You should remember it before you start acting as though anyone is waiting for you.”

She looked down. Arguing with him had never improved matters, but accepting everything he said felt worse.

“My father was still the legitimate heir,” she replied quietly. “And I am his daughter…”

The word changed Aronn’s expression.

Monika noticed too late. She had meant to defend her place in the house, not remind him of the circumstances of his father’s birth. But that was what he heard. The contempt her father had shown his younger half-brother had followed Aronn too, and he resented hearing even an echo of it from her.

He caught her by the hair and pulled.

“I—It hurts! Let me go!”

Monika reached for his wrist, trying to soften the pressure, but one of his friends seized her arm before she could loosen his hold. The other caught her from the opposite side. Between them, they dragged her upright and held her against the wall.

She tried to pull free. Their hands only tightened.

Aronn looked pleased again.

“The only good thing about you is your face,” he said, catching her chin and forcing her to look at him.

Her dark brown eyes filled with tears. She hated that they could see how frightened she was. Their enjoyment of it made her struggle harder, though she had little room to move with the wall behind her.

“If you want to live comfortably here, you’ll obey me,” Aronn told her. “You’ll do what I say and stop pretending you’re someone important.”

The tears finally slipped down her cheeks.

Even then, Monika did not give him the answer he wanted. She had been raised in a noble household, taught to remember her name and the duties that came with it. Aronn might have made her afraid, but he had not yet taught her to look grateful while he did it.

She glared at him.

His smile vanished.

“You dare look at me like that?”

He glanced at his companions.

“Tear me that gown.”

One of them reached for her clothing.

“No!”

Monika struggled, panic overcoming the effort to keep her voice low. She tried to turn away, but they held her in place.

“What are you doing?”

The question came from farther along the corridor.

All three boys stopped.

For a moment, they remained exactly as they were, as though moving might draw more attention to what the newcomer had already seen. Then Aronn turned his head.

A boy stood in the passage behind them.

He was fifteen, close enough to their own age that his appearance should not have frightened them so much. Yet Aronn’s hand loosened fast. His companions followed his gaze, and whatever confidence they had gained from holding Monika disappeared.

There was no mistaking the dark crimson hair.

Nor the same colour eyes, fixed on them emotionlessly.

He was a Rubenhart.

More importantly, he was the Rubenhart who had accompanied the Count that day: Eurich’s only heir, Ulrich Van Rubenhart.

The men gathered downstairs were deciding who would govern this territory. One day, the boy standing in the corridor would hold authority over all of them.

Aronn stepped back.

His friends released Monika so fast that she could not find her balance. She fell to the floor, catching herself badly with one hand. Pain flashed through her wrist, but she scarcely noticed it. She was no longer being held against the wall.

Ulrich remained where he was.

His gaze passed over Aronn and the other two boys before falling on Monika. She sat beneath the wall with her blond hair disordered and tears still running down her face, trying to understand whether the interruption meant she was safe.

Slowly, she lifted her eyes to him.

It was the first time Monika had seen Ulrich.

Who should I prioritize between entitled free readers who blabber, whine negatively about me and my book, and the wonderful Privilege Readers who support me with money, are understanding, supportive, and, above all, are intelligent enough to understand something once told once? Hm, very tough question indeed.

Far from being snarky about it, when you get something free, because yes, you are reading it for free, and I am addressing that peculiar, disrespectful category, little but very pestering group, I know they will recognize themselves. You shut up and don’t whine or insult your benefactor; I believe that is basic respect, and that applies in every situation when you get something for free. When even Priv Readers understand that and don’t feel even that entitled, I wonder how ‘some’ reading it for free have the gall to feel like I owe them anything?

I believe that is a problem of education above all else. I have been a reader too, still a reader sometimes, and I’ve read a lot of books; the ones I liked, I supported, and the ones I found flaws in, or that weren’t to my taste, I didn’t ‘order’ the author to change this or that or whine under every comment from the author. I simply acted like a normal, ordinary educated fellow, and walked away.

I guess this is hard for a peculiar breed; I suppose I underestimated their number on this platform, my dear mistake for it.

Otherwise, I thank the other people, Free and Priv Readers, who are the crushing majority (Thank God) for sending me kind, supportive messages so far.

Sincerely, the kind author who drinks the tears of the haters (Here’s a whole ass chapter only for you, be grateful) 🙂