Chapter 14: Forgive My Wickedness

While Kilian dove into Nargoz’s diurnal festivities, within a plain-looking room of Kars’ ducal palace, a woman in her early thirties kneeled on the ground, with her trembling arms folded while a younger female of remarkable beauty circled her.

 

“Obscene old slut. Who could think that while, out of respect, I called you aunt, you were spreading your legs for my fiancé. Tss, tss, tss. I watched out for everyone, everyone except you,” Anke leaned over and whispered in the noblewoman, Florens’ mother’s ears. Dressed in a high collar, black velvet dress that stressed the sinister look in her eyes, Anke rested her hand on the lady’s shoulders and shook her head.

 

Though the daughter of an Orlothi marquis, as a non-magus, Florens’ mother could only quiver under Anke’s inquisition. No, even if she were one thousand times more powerful, she would still have to behave. The gap in strength and status was simply too vast. And recalling how she ended up in this state, the lady bit her lower lip.

 

“What? You got nothing to say? That’s not good. If you don’t argue, I will have to kill you in a slow, horrid manner. If you argue you will still die brutally, but I might just lop your head off in a fit of anger. And then at least, you won’t have to scream,” pinching the lady’s cheeks in her snow-white hands, Anke nestled her head against hers, and lay there for a minute.

 

Cold sweat broke out from the noblewoman’s forehead and cheeks, reminding Anke of the effect she tended to have on her victims. Her gleeful face twisted into a frown.

 

“You’re scared. Why are you scared? You shouldn’t be. When you started sleeping with him, you should have known that this day would happen. Even if you didn’t then, after learning of my temper, a sane person would have stopped. But—” Anke trailed one index on the lady’s neck, cutting a thin line of blood with the seemingly inoffensive move.

 

“You’re too shameless. He’s what? Half your age? How could you? HOW DARE YOU!” Seizing the lady by the neck, Anke hoisted her with one hand, and while keeping her locked in her grip, smashed her into the opposite wall.

 

Her bones crackled, and she spurted blood, staining Anke’s insanity-laced face with another layer of madness.

 

“You...why don’t you blame Kilian...why is it always us? You...always act the gentle and loving lady before him, t-then go out murdering innocents,” the lady choked out. But the words only heightened Anke’s wrath, and her grip tightened around her victim’s neck.

 

“Wrong, I blame you two. But I forgive him. I always forgive him. Because if I don’t, he will let go of me, forget about me, ignore me, and that, I CAN’T ALLOW!” Pulling the lady off the wall, Anke slammed her into the ground—her spine shattered on the spot.

 

“But you, you I can’t forgive! Kilian is mine. MINE! He belongs to me and me only! Why, why do you sluts keep crowding him like bees to honey? Why can’t you just say no!”

 

Again, Anke lifted her victim and slammed her back into the ground.

 

“I’m the Junior Duchess of Rulweil. Those that want my hand line from the Imperial City all the way to Kars! But for him, I ignore them all. So why can’t he do the same? Why must he trample my pride?” Again and again, Anke battered the helpless woman like a rampaging bull would a helpless matador. But with masterful control of her dra, she protected her victim’s vital organs so that the abuse could go on without interruption.

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“I-it’s not our fault. H-he can never l-love you. Haha, since you are Klaus’ most beloved junior...how could he fancy you? P-pitiful, pitiful lunatic,” the lady choked out, eager to end her own sufferings. And as expected, her words tore at Anke’s sorest spot, her eyes went bloodshot, and as her warm tears trickled down, she bent her hand in a claw shape and thrust at the lady’s heart.

 

But at that time, an irresistible hand gripped Anke’s wrist, stopping her mid-move.

 

“You forgot to ask who gave her the order. That would be me. But even that is inconsequential. Little girl, who let you think that you could kill whom you pleased within my house?” A gentle voice that Anke knew all too well, echoed in her ears.

 

But while in usual days Anke would submit to Klaus’ authority, on this occasion, madness prevailed over reason, and she thrashed against his grip—only to realize that she could barely move a muscle.

 

“You...it’s you. It’s always you! You knew...you always knew that this would happen! But since you did, why did you propose the betrothal? Why did you bring me back to Kars? Why couldn’t you let me be?” Anke bit her lips to blood and snarled in grief.

 

Seeing the child he raised for half a decade in such anguish, Klaus heaved a sigh.

 

“You used to be the perfect choice to test Kilian’s thought process. I wondered how he’d deal with you. Would he forget his hatred for me when it came to you, would he try to use you against me, lash out or just flat out ignore you? And ultimately, I wondered if and how he’d get rid of you. Alas, you went mad before we could reach a conclusion, and the answer no longer matters,” Klaus coolly said, and sharper than blades, the words hashed what remained of Anke’s heart.

 

“Hahahahaha!” Anke threw her head back and burst into a peal of frenzied laughter. The laugh then turned into the howl of a fehl banshee, tore cracks in the orstalph walls, and made the comatose lady’s eardrums’ burst instantaneously. Aggrieved by this sight, Klaus placed his left hand on Anke’s head.

 

“It’s fine, I will make the pain go away, let you rest and forget. When you wake up, you will be born anew—free from all mortal woes,” he said, and starting with her toes, Anke’s body crystallized, and she turned into an inert amethyst statue. The statue shrank into a purple orb, and dove into Klaus’ ring.

 

With the fehl howl stopped, silence returned to the room. Klaus stepped toward his wife—for indeed, the battered noblewoman half-an-inch into death was...his wife—and snapped his fingers.

 

Shimmering golden vines surged from the grounds, wrapping the lady in their embrace to heal all her physical wounds.

 

“You’ve suffered too. My apologies, I didn’t wish to harm you. May you forgive my wickedness and remember my sins no more,” he said, turned heels, and left. The Duchess of Kars didn’t know what to do with the words for, unlike most people in Kars, she’d long realized that behind his poised exterior, Klaus too teetered on the edge of insanity.

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