Please Be Patient, Grand Duke

The rainy season in the empire was extensive.
It had been more than ten full days of rain.
People awaited the sun to break through the clouds, occasionally stepping outside in thin hope but went inside and locked the door when that did not happen, feeling utterly defeated.
The rain beat down on the imperial palace and the downtown, and the slumps.
Nothing, and no one was spared.

Light usually didn’t enter the narrow alleys covered by the eaves.
Rumor has it that the mail carriers avoided stepping in these alleys.
The police in charge were indifferent to the crimes taking place in the place.
The place was a ghetto absorbing the footsteps or ordinary people and forgetting them.

A carriage stood at the entrance of the dark district of Louvre, where it was hard to even distinguish between day and night.
From the looks of the carriage’s condition and its horses, it didn’t look like it belonged to any of the inhabitants there.
Nobody could afford a carriage like that in that place when people survive a week on one gillie.

A servant in a robe put down the foot step and opened the carriage door.
A woman’s heel decorated in silk and leather placed a foot on the steps.

“Careful,” said an elegant, low voice.
The man standing in the dark groveled, showing his yellow teeth.

“Th-this way please.”

The woman looked down at him with cold eyes and put on a robe.
The neglected alleyway riddled with trash, bums, and animal carcasses reeked despite getting a fresh cleansing from the rain.
Her icy fingertips trembled at the chilly sight.
There was no other way it could be.
Because a high-ranking aristocrat didn’t fit well in such an underdeveloped district.

“Your Ladyship, you can wait in the carriage.
I can take care of it.”

“No, I want to go myself.”

Anastasia Vale, wife to Marquis Gliad Vale.
Marquis Vale owned several textile and tobacco factories and also delved into shipbuilding and iron mining industries.
Now that the Hundred Years’ War was over, the House of Vale was a respected family with enough wealth to be on par with the Grand Duke of Ihar.
So why was a woman of such prestige stepping into a slum?

A nervous guard followed behind her, his hand on the sword at his waist.

“I mean, she is having a hard time finding him.
Heh-heh.
By the way, why in hell’s the kid so important…,” said a man grinning at the woman.

“Show her the way.
If it were me, I wouldn’t waste my time circling around the same place,” said the knight.

He pulled his sword out halfway with a sound of iron grinding.
The body of the man leading the way flinched at the fierce threat, crouching down even lower.

“Round and round and round.
A little while ago it was that run-down pub, now we’re at Mrs.
Milburn’s oil supply store.
Even though the path looks similar, it’s all different, so don’t worry.”

Anastasia gave the vigilant guard a warning look.
If the guide becomes terrified and runs away, they all may lose their hard-earned opportunity.
The knight sheathed his sword and followed, politely.

This place was like a fortress.
A massive fortress home to those who had been abandoned by the world.
The front guard, glancing around like he was scared of something, pointed to a house with a red ribbon hanging front of it.
It wasn’t a standalone house, it was as though a dozen doors lined up to form a wall.

“That’s it over there.
You have no idea how much trouble I’ve been through trying to look for that little girl.
The mother cared desperately for her child… So you have to be generous and give me ten gillies… heh-heh.”

This was the only place which didn’t have eaves, so she got rained on.
The girl was here.
The girl Anastasia had searched for so thoroughly.
She gestured to the guard.
He came forward and dropped a pouch of coins into the hands of the guide.
The dead silence was filled with coins clinking as the guide counted the amount of the money he received.
After making sure he had the right amount, he bowed to them and stepped back.

The guide then ran away, frightened.
Perhaps the amount was bigger than they had agreed on, or maybe he was terrified of the knights.
She stepped into the rain, a clammy feeling entered her leather heels.
Her lips quivered because she was disgusted by the wetness inside her shoes.

“Go shut him up,” said Anastasia.

Another knight nodded with a determined look at Anastasia’s instructions.
“Understood, Ma’am,” he said.

Meanwhile, the little girl was busy; perhaps she didn’t know that the woman was approaching.
With sludge on her cheeks, her honey-coloured hair extending to her waist, she was a delicate little thing.
She looked younger than twelve.
Dressed in tatters, she was busy carving wood.
The way the little girl handled a sharp knife made the wrinkles on Anastasia’s face deepen.

Anastasia was only a stone’s throw away from the little girl.
But she was so busy that she didn’t notice her approaching.
Anastasia stopped on a path that sloped downwards.

“Hey, kid,” she called.

The child lifted her gaze to meet Anastasia’s and flinched, dropping her knife in surprise.
The girl’s dazzling eyes, like a mix of turquoise and emerald, met Anastasia’s cold ones.
At the sight of the girl, a wave of pent-up anger rose in Anastasia.