The Duke's Imposter Sister
Chapter 11 – A Branded Life (1)
Gris spent the whole week recovering in Yuliana’s room. She needed the time to treat the rash she had developed in the brothel, but mostly, she used the time to sleep and recharge in peace.
According to the doctors, the rash was an allergic reaction to the moldy and unhygienic environment she had lived in. The rash covered her calves, forearms, and a wide range of other areas, but they were confident their ointment extracted from roasted pine needles would calm down the itchiness and redness.
The rash also covered her stomach, but she couldn’t tell them about it, as on the left of her stomach was a scar that permanently marked her as a pr*stit*te. It was a mark that had been seared with a hot iron shaped like a tree branch, and it was there to prevent branded women like her from running away to marry like a normal lady.
Gris was curious about the male psyche. Men spent time and money to sleep with pr*stit*tes, and many of them frequented the same ones regularly. Why then were they branded like animals and denied ever having a chance to change their lives? Should they not have the right to marry and have children because unfortunate circumstances put them in this challenging situation?
The more she thought about this hypocrisy, the more incensed and resentful she became. She traced the mark on her stomach with her fingers and saw it as a symbol of hatred. Could she have this mark and still end up happy? Or was she doomed to a past that would forever haunt her?
Living with the Byrenhags even for a short period, eating and sleeping well, had made her greedy. To avoid living with false hopes, she had to find a way to get to the antique art store near the church of Byrenhag and discover her destiny.
Stephan had left the mansion a couple of days ago, saying the Marquisate needed his help. He had told Paola that Yuliana had developed a highly infectious rash, so she shouldn’t meet her while he was gone. He did say though that the doctors recommended the skin irritation be exposed to fresh air to accelerate her recovery, and so she was given permission to take walks in the garden.
Gris thought of taking this opportunity to run away, but soon realized it was impossible. The mansion only had two entrances, both heavily guarded with soldiers. To walk through the gates, one had to show a pass issued by the administrator.
But she couldn’t stop thinking about an escape to find Johannes. Every morning, Bellin arrived to help Gris with her daily ritual and to dress her. Gris had to insist firmly that she didn’t need help bathing and, in fact, preferred this time alone in the morning.
She could never let her see the mark on her body.
It was a relief that Bellin was naturally taciturn and didn’t ask too many questions. She must have been curious as to why Yuliana suddenly re-appeared after ten years but didn’t dare pry.
Bellin dressed her in complete silence. Gris sat in a chair by the window, wearing her favorite yellow dress, while Bellin gently brushed her hair. She was suffering from the tight bandages Bellin had wrapped around her bosom and couldn’t wait until bedtime when she could undress again. Still, she was happy that her chest was unnoticeable with the help of the bindings.
With the rays of the sun gently warming her face, she almost felt like she was at home in Grandia. She could almost hear the chatter of the servants and her sister’s humming and singing. As she was daydreaming, Bellin suddenly asked carefully,
“Are you… going for a walk today?”
Gris barely opened her eyes to answer.
“Yes,” she replied.
Bellin hesitated a moment as she was tying Gris’s hair before saying,
“I, I heard that Sir Byrenhag is returning today.”
Sir Byrenhag… the eldest son of the Byrenhags, Vianut van Byrenhag.
Gris thought of the man she saw that night in the garden under the moonlight before he set off for battle. Her heart started racing, and she tried her best not to appear flustered.
Bellin nodded her head and replied,
“Yes, ma’am. I knew he would return without any injuries. He seems invincible since he became the Grand Duke Byrenhag.
“When was that?” asked Gris with interest.
“About seven years ago. Sir Byrenhag, the elder, died around then,” Bellin replied as she continued to prepare Gris’s hair.
Seven years ago…
Vianut looked around his early 20s, so he must have become the Duke of Byrenhag before he was fifteen years old. Gris imagined Vianut holding a sword and slicing through enemy troops at a young age. Perhaps… he did control his urges by killing people.
Lost in thought, Gris looked into the mirror and noticed Bellin looking closely at her reflection. Was she trying to read her mood?
That was when Gris realized she hadn’t shown any emotion when she heard Yuliana’s father had died seven years ago. Not confident to fake tears, Gris quickly lowered her eyes. She figured that changing the topic was better than trying to make excuses.
“Where did he go this time?” Gris finally asked.
Bellin replied as she started to plait her hair.
“Towards the seashore near Chateau. For a month, there was pillaging and even r*pe as the Chateaites invaded and claimed land belonging to the Byrenhags. Our soldiers reconquered the Byrenhag land within a few days. I heard that Sir Byrenhag beheaded the King of Chateau himself.”
Shocked with herself, Bellin quickly covered her mouth.
“I apologize, ma’am. I shouldn’t have said that but—I’m not scared, I’m glad. I’m sorry it was a mistake.”
Bellin’s hands trembled as if she had been sentenced to death. Gris watched her and felt she was over-reacting. Was Bellin just a timid type, or was there some other reason behind it?
“It’s fine, Bellin,” Gris told her calmly.
“….”
“I am also scared of beheadings.”
After Bellin finished her hair, Gris was surprisingly hungry, despite not having done much all morning. But it was already past noon, and she would soon set out for her daily walk. Her diet at Byrenhag was heartier than she was used to. It also helped her sleep better and regain her strength.
Mushroom soup, chicken with vegetables and sometimes a glass of red wine… it reminded her far too much of a life she had forgotten.
Chapter 11: A Branded Life (1)
Gris spent the whole week recovering in Yuliana’s room. She needed the time to treat the rash she had developed in the brothel, but mostly, she used the time to sleep and recharge in peace.
According to the doctors, the rash was an allergic reaction to the moldy and unhygienic environment she had lived in. The rash covered her calves, forearms, and a wide range of other areas, but they were confident their ointment extracted from roasted pine needles would calm down the itchiness and redness.
The rash also covered her stomach, but she couldn’t tell them about it, as on the left of her stomach was a scar that permanently marked her as a pr*stit*te. It was a mark that had been seared with a hot iron shaped like a tree branch, and it was there to prevent branded women like her from running away to marry like a normal lady.
Gris was curious about the male psyche. Men spent time and money to sleep with pr*stit*tes, and many of them frequented the same ones regularly. Why then were they branded like animals and denied ever having a chance to change their lives? Should they not have the right to marry and have children because unfortunate circumstances put them in this challenging situation?
The more she thought about this hypocrisy, the more incensed and resentful she became. She traced the mark on her stomach with her fingers and saw it as a symbol of hatred. Could she have this mark and still end up happy? Or was she doomed to a past that would forever haunt her?
Living with the Byrenhags even for a short period, eating and sleeping well, had made her greedy. To avoid living with false hopes, she had to find a way to get to the antique art store near the church of Byrenhag and discover her destiny.
Stephan had left the mansion a couple of days ago, saying the Marquisate needed his help. He had told Paola that Yuliana had developed a highly infectious rash, so she shouldn’t meet her while he was gone. He did say though that the doctors recommended the skin irritation be exposed to fresh air to accelerate her recovery, and so she was given permission to take walks in the garden.
Gris thought of taking this opportunity to run away, but soon realized it was impossible. The mansion only had two entrances, both heavily guarded with soldiers. To walk through the gates, one had to show a pass issued by the administrator.
But she couldn’t stop thinking about an escape to find Johannes. Every morning, Bellin arrived to help Gris with her daily ritual and to dress her. Gris had to insist firmly that she didn’t need help bathing and, in fact, preferred this time alone in the morning.
She could never let her see the mark on her body.
It was a relief that Bellin was naturally taciturn and didn’t ask too many questions. She must have been curious as to why Yuliana suddenly re-appeared after ten years but didn’t dare pry.
Bellin dressed her in complete silence. Gris sat in a chair by the window, wearing her favorite yellow dress, while Bellin gently brushed her hair. She was suffering from the tight bandages Bellin had wrapped around her bosom and couldn’t wait until bedtime when she could undress again. Still, she was happy that her chest was unnoticeable with the help of the bindings.
With the rays of the sun gently warming her face, she almost felt like she was at home in Grandia. She could almost hear the chatter of the servants and her sister’s humming and singing. As she was daydreaming, Bellin suddenly asked carefully,
“Are you… going for a walk today?”
Gris barely opened her eyes to answer.
“Yes,” she replied.
Bellin hesitated a moment as she was tying Gris’s hair before saying,
“I, I heard that Sir Byrenhag is returning today.”
Sir Byrenhag… the eldest son of the Byrenhags, Vianut van Byrenhag.
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“…Today?”Bellin nodded her head and replied,
“Yes, ma’am. I knew he would return without any injuries. He seems invincible since he became the Grand Duke Byrenhag.
“When was that?” asked Gris with interest.
“About seven years ago. Sir Byrenhag, the elder, died around then,” Bellin replied as she continued to prepare Gris’s hair.
Seven years ago…
Vianut looked around his early 20s, so he must have become the Duke of Byrenhag before he was fifteen years old. Gris imagined Vianut holding a sword and slicing through enemy troops at a young age. Perhaps… he did control his urges by killing people.
Lost in thought, Gris looked into the mirror and noticed Bellin looking closely at her reflection. Was she trying to read her mood?
That was when Gris realized she hadn’t shown any emotion when she heard Yuliana’s father had died seven years ago. Not confident to fake tears, Gris quickly lowered her eyes. She figured that changing the topic was better than trying to make excuses.
“Where did he go this time?” Gris finally asked.
Bellin replied as she started to plait her hair.
“Towards the seashore near Chateau. For a month, there was pillaging and even r*pe as the Chateaites invaded and claimed land belonging to the Byrenhags. Our soldiers reconquered the Byrenhag land within a few days. I heard that Sir Byrenhag beheaded the King of Chateau himself.”
Shocked with herself, Bellin quickly covered her mouth.
“I apologize, ma’am. I shouldn’t have said that but—I’m not scared, I’m glad. I’m sorry it was a mistake.”
Bellin’s hands trembled as if she had been sentenced to death. Gris watched her and felt she was over-reacting. Was Bellin just a timid type, or was there some other reason behind it?
“It’s fine, Bellin,” Gris told her calmly.
“….”
“I am also scared of beheadings.”
After Bellin finished her hair, Gris was surprisingly hungry, despite not having done much all morning. But it was already past noon, and she would soon set out for her daily walk. Her diet at Byrenhag was heartier than she was used to. It also helped her sleep better and regain her strength.
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