Chapter 189: Letter

Griffin Province.

A carriage rolled slowly into the sunlit Serene Grand Estate.

The horses pulling it had copper bells tied to them, their crisp jingling drawing the attention of the estate’s servants.

“It’s Miss MaryRuth.”

The butler immediately stepped forward to receive her, offering a flawless bow toward the carriage door. “Welcome, the esteemed Miss MaryRuth.”

“Hello.”

The carriage door opened, and a gentle, pure-looking woman stepped out with a soft smile, radiating elegance and pristine grace. She held a thick book in her hand.

“I’ve come to see Miss Sherry, to share some thoughts on reading—and to return this book. I’ve gained so much from it.” Holding the book in one hand, she placed her other hand lightly on a maid’s wrist and stepped down gracefully. “I also brought Sherry a painting I made in White Swan City. Please help me carry it.”

“My pleasure.”

Even the usually stern butler wore a faint smile.

Without needing a guide, MaryRuth made her way swiftly to the left hall of the estate’s main building.

Ever since investigating the corpse tide in the Northern Province, Sherry had been recuperating within the family estate. She stood beside a massive long table, her expression serious as she studied the map spread across it. Small flags were planted all over, with various markers arranged in tight formations.

“I knew it.”

Murmuring to herself, MaryRuth didn’t approach, instead hugging the book quietly and waiting.

“There are too many displaced serfs and freefolk. That’s not a good sign.”

“And with last year’s locust plague in the western provinces, followed by beast tides this year… will the farmers stay obedient?”

“They should. After all, they’re unarmed. The demi-humans in the northeast and the elves in the northwest are the greater threats.”

After muttering to herself for quite some time, Sherry felt a twinge of hunger. Just as she raised her head to call for a maid, she spotted MaryRuth waiting at the doorway.

“Oh? My dear Miss MaryRuth—no wonder the blue mountain sparrow wouldn’t stop chirping yesterday. So it was heralding your arrival.”

Sherry walked over happily, linking arms with her. “Next time, don’t just stand there waiting—call for me directly. Making our lovely lady wait is entirely my fault.”

“I didn’t want to disturb you. After all, you bear the burden of protecting the Empire,” MaryRuth said earnestly, before changing the subject. “Shall we go watch an opera performance?”

“I’m afraid not. I still need to sort out the belongings of the reconnaissance corps and send them to their families.”

At the mention of this, Sherry’s smile faded, her gaze turning distant as if lost in memory.

“I remember—you said those belongings were lost in the Northern Province. You’ve found them?”

Sherry smiled faintly. “Yes. Phield of the Ross family went out of his way to retrieve them for me and had them sent back.”

“Oh~” MaryRuth nodded in realization. “A knight who would brave fire and water for you?”

“A baron.”

Sherry waved her hand with a helpless look. “Speaking of him, he annoys me. The letter he wrote nearly drove me mad. I asked for information on the corpse tide, and he gave me a long, flowery piece full of fantastical prose. I mean, pursuing me is fine, but… you know.”

“You’re such a workaholic. I don’t understand you.”

MaryRuth looked a little awkward.

With a faint sigh, she added, “I envy you—having a baron pursuing you. If I had such an opportunity, I’d wait eagerly for every message from a carrier pigeon. At balls, I only ever meet landless nobles. Even those with land are at most knights.”

For noble offspring who weren’t first in line, the future wasn’t necessarily bright.

Especially when their father’s resources were already scarce.

Their own children might not even become knights—perhaps just squires, eventually declining into freefolk.

“Don’t be so pessimistic. You’re so beautiful—are you really worried about not finding a good husband?” Sherry patted her hand reassuringly. “Relax. Besides, Phield doesn’t really count as having land. Does Nightfall Domain even qualify as a territory? Haha.”

“Um… Nightfall Domain? I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never been there. Is it really as terrifying as the poems describe?”

Sherry’s eyes flickered as she slipped the letter into MaryRuth’s hands.

“Take a look—you’ll understand.”

MaryRuth immediately refused. “Ah? That would be improper etiquette. Please don’t tease me.”

“Heh, there’s not much practical content anyway. I just need your help thinking about how to reply.”

Sherry was deeply interested in the Empire’s military affairs, but beyond that, she truly didn’t care much.

“…Alright.”

MaryRuth took the letter and read it again and again. After a long silence, she finally said sadly, “He must truly love you. Look at the emotion between the lines—he must have written this while crying. Nightfall Domain can’t be as terrible as you say, or he couldn’t have written something like this.”

Sherry scratched her head awkwardly. The part about having a suitor was something she had made up—this letter really was embarrassingly sentimental.

Back then, Phield hadn’t even spared her a second glance.

“Help me draft a reply. What I need is information—the movements of the corpse tide and everything happening in Nightfall Domain. It’s crucial for the Empire’s future.”

“That’s too rude.” For once, MaryRuth showed clear disapproval, clutching the letter to her chest. “At least give some emotional response. He is a baron, even if his territory is… less than ideal.”

“I don’t think that’s appropriate. And I wouldn’t say I like him—I just want to maintain the Empire’s prosperity,” Sherry hesitated. “Don’t let poetic stories mislead you. Reality and imagination are worlds apart. Phield is one of the most typical nobles I’ve seen—greedy and stubborn. Just… a bit overly sentimental in his writing.”

“Why are you insulting him like that?!”

MaryRuth protested anxiously.

“…Fine.” Sherry rolled her eyes. “Come help me write the reply—let’s do it in poetic form.”

—

The ranch of Nightfall Domain lay to the northwest of the estate. As it expanded, it had already been relocated twice.

Most of the livestock were warhorses—their numbers exceeding all other animals combined. Fewer than ten had been purchased; over two hundred had been seized.

Such a staggering number would leave many nobles dumbfounded.

A qualified warhorse cost no less than twenty-five gold coins—an amount ordinary people could never save in a lifetime. Compared to slaves, they were dozens of times more expensive—a perfect example of animals being worth more than people.

Though some lame horses had been culled, the daily consumption of fodder remained a heavy burden on Nightfall Domain.

“So this is what direwolves look like. Not majestic at all—they’re just like oversized prairie sheepdogs.”

Charlotte pointed at the newly arrived direwolves, her eyes wide as she muttered about the homeland of the Purple Gold Empire.

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