Judge of Cosmos

CHAPTER 11

"We've reached the barren lands of southern Vernize, madam," Laila announced, her voice laced with concern.

Moraine gave a curt nod before stepping down from the carriage, accepting Roan's offered hand. As her feet touched the cracked ground, she winced, drawing a sharp breath of the smoky, acrid air.

"This fog has lingered for nearly twenty years now," Laila murmured, her voice heavy with disbelief. "It's hard to imagine it's gotten worse."

"Madam," Roan spoke softly, noticing the redness in her eyes and the puffiness of her cheeks. Without hesitation, he handed her a clean, pressed handkerchief.

"Thank you, Roan."

"With Kana absent, I'll be acting as your aide today," he added, his tone respectful.

"Very well," Moraine replied, a fleeting smile gracing her lips. Her thoughts briefly drifted to Kana's absence. 

"Kana, inform the shadow about the manor of Marquis Lamoure. He'll likely return before midnight, so remain there."

The white-haired lady's gaze swept across the fog-shrouded landscape. The dim light from the magic stone-powered lamps revealed the desolation in sharp relief.

'This is far worse than I expected,' she thought grimly.

"Your Grace!" a voice called out, pulling her attention.

"Count Globin," Moraine acknowledged.

"I didn't expect your visit so soon. Please forgive my unpreparedness—I haven't arranged suitable quarters for you," the Count said, his face flushed with embarrassment."My wife insists on offering you our room," he added hurriedly.

Moraine sighed softly. "There's no need, Count. The guesthouse will suffice."

"Oh, thank goodness!" the Countess exclaimed, her relief palpable. "It's already eight o'clock, Your Grace. Perhaps it would be best to begin the inspection tomorrow. I'll provide you with all the details and answer any questions you have."

"Agreed," Moraine replied. "Laila, Roan, you may prepare my room."

"Yes, Your Grace," they replied in unison.

As they entered the dining hall, Moraine's eyes narrowed at the sight of the table, laden with food. 'Given their situation, this must represent a month's worth of provisions.'

"Please, help yourself, Your Grace," the Countess urged, though there was an undercurrent of anxiety in her voice.

"Thank you," Moraine replied evenly.

"I didn't expect you to come in person, Your Grace," the Count admitted. "The journey here is difficult, especially with the roads in such poor condition due to lack of funds."

"I'm merely fulfilling my duties as the Grand Duke's wife," Moraine responded.

'You're the only family that wrote to me before my visit. That's why I'm here—to give you the attention you deserve and to ease your burdens.' Moraine thought, her eyes lingered at the fatigued figures of the noblemen in front of her.

Moraine took a sip of the wine, cheap and unrefined, but her expression remained unchanged. She could feel the shame radiating from the Globins, aware of their dire financial straits. Their land was so barren, not even the magic stones could help.

The Grand Duchess, a new yet equal partner to the Grand Duke in Vernize, had become the sole beacon of hope for the people of the south. For four long years, their situation had deteriorated beyond belief. Though the Grand Duke had remained steadfast, never abandoning them, the people of the south were weighed down by the shame of their plight. They hated being seen as victims of disaster, their pride turning to bitterness.

Southern Vernize, once a thriving center of trade, had always been the lifeblood of the region. Unlike the colder northern lands, the south had been fertile, a place where diverse crops and goods were produced. It wasn't an exaggeration to say that the south had been the strongest pillar of Vernize.

But four years ago, disaster struck. The land began to wither as if drained of its life force by some unseen parasite. The soil dried up, and no crops or trees could take root. Hunger spread like wildfire, and desperate people turned to the Grand Duke for a solution.

"We will provide you with monthly relief supplies," the young Grand Duke had declared, his voice heavy with the weight of responsibility. "Distribute them fairly. Unfortunately, the land has gone bad. The magicians I consulted say there's no cure for it. However, we can attempt to heal it with magic stones, though the cost will be enormous."

Count Globin had refused. They owed the Grand Duke too much already, and he couldn't bear to rely on him further. The use of magic stones was a temporary fix, with no guarantee of success. 

He couldn't justify wasting such a vast sum of money.

"Honey! The people are starving. We can't afford to let pride stand in the way. If we have to grovel at the Grand Duke's feet, then so be it! We have no other choice," his wife had pleaded, her voice tinged with desperation.

Count Globin had pressed his lips together, torn by his wife's words. She was right. Other nobles in the south had begun protesting, urging him to beg the Grand Duke once more and accept the magic stones. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he turned to the other vassals, negotiating with them, yet only a few offered any help.

Marquis Lamoure, the leader of the vassals, slammed his door shut without so much as a glance at Count Globin. "I have no interest in aiding someone who won't bring me profit," he declared coldly.

"Very well," Count Globin sighed, defeated. "I will beg the Grand Duke once more."

But before he could set out for Vernize Castle, unexpected news reached him. A new Grand Duchess had arrived in Vernize—not the haughty daughter of the Marquis, who was rumored to be the Grand Duke's lover, but Moraine Eurydice Clarke, the niece of the Eastern Count and daughter of the empire's hero.

Count Globin felt a stirring in his gut, a rare intuition that he hadn't experienced in years. Instead of requesting an audience with the Grand Duke, he decided to seek out his lord's wife. With hope and trepidation, he sent a letter expressing his desire for a meeting with the Grand Duchess.

When the day came, his nerves tightened as he approached the castle. The servants, recognizing him instantly, exchanged pitying glances. But Count Globin paid them no mind. All he wanted was to meet the Grand Duchess, whom he believed could finally bring an end to his troubles.

"Greetings, Count Globin," a voice called out.

She's like a goddess,' he thought, his breath catching as he took in the sight before him. The woman who stood before him, greeting him with a polite smile, was beyond anything he had ever imagined. Moraine Eurydice Clarke was the embodiment of beauty, an ethereal presence that left him utterly captivated.

Despite his awe, Count Globin did not hesitate to pour out his worries. He was trembling, his voice barely steady, but he spoke the truth about the dire situation in the South. As he stood before the young woman—someone younger than his own son—he couldn't help but question the blind faith he had placed in her. Yet something in her presence, in her eyes, told him that he was right to believe.