Duke of the Beast and the Vicarious Bride - Chapter 7

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※ This work contains depictions of coercive relationships, explicit language, and other graphic content. Reader discretion is advised.

The moment Fiona and Rose arrived at the Count’s manor, he separated them. His reason was the despicable one that Fiona needed to concentrate on her bridal training.

Rose was given a small, separate annex. It seemed a token gesture to keep his promise of caring for her. When Fiona saw the aged governess and dedicated maid assigned to look after her sister, she concluded it was not so bad, but that did not mean she trusted the Count entirely.

“I should like you to swear the Dragon’s Pact concerning Rose.”

At Fiona’s proposal, the Count showed visible displeasure. But he did not refuse her only condition for the marriage.

The Dragon’s Pact was a unique form of contract, long handed down through the ages here on the continent of Muyll, where the Vieren Empire stood.

In the distant past, when dragons were said to exist on the continent of Muyll, even now, long after their disappearance, their traces remained distinct. The power that permeated the lands and skies of Muyll like the very air granted a binding force to the spoken oaths of men. Among these, the Dragon’s Pact was particularly potent, and thus not a contract to be entered into lightly.

The sole condition Fiona had put forward, even invoking the Pact, was Rose’s safety. That her person be guaranteed, her daily life cared for in comfort. The price for failing to properly fulfill the contract would be the Count’s own life.

“The term of the contract shall be until my situation stabilises and I am able to take Rose with me. Should anything happen to me, the Count shall care for her naturally until the end of her days.”

“…Very well.”

Though his moustache quivered with rage, the Count accepted Fiona’s terms. At the same time, he laid out his own corresponding demands.

That she willingly submit to the marriage with the Grand Duke and all related requirements. That under no circumstances was the marriage to be called off, and that she would not engage in evasive actions such as insincere behaviour or self-harm. That she must produce at least one heir. These were the Count’s stipulations. The price for failing to meet them was likewise staked on the lives of Fiona and Rose.

“And if I should die by accident before bearing a child, or if there is some issue with the Grand Duke that prevents conception?”

At Fiona’s meticulous question, the Count ground his teeth.

“Even in that case, I shall take in the mute child. Is that sufficient?”

“And there is no time limit on producing an heir?”

“Provided you do not neglect the acts necessary for conception.”

Fiona chewed over his conditions and added one more remark.

“If an heir is so precious, then surely the environment into which it is born must also be safe.”

“Why do you keep prattling on about the obvious?”

“Ah, of course. Well then, I suppose.”

As Fiona finally uttered the brief words agreeing to the contract, a golden flame blossomed in the air and vanished. It was the mark that the Pact had been sealed.

Once the contract was complete, an awkward silence passed between the ill-matched pair, father and daughter.

Though somewhat belated, Fiona finally grew curious about the identity of her bridegroom. What sort of man was he, that a noble of such high rank as a Grand Duke should come to acquire a bride through such channels? If it were a respectable match, Joséphine could simply have married him, and the turn would never have come to Fiona. Just how bad, and in what way, was he, that they would scrape up a bastard to send as a bride? It was a belated concern.

“What sort of man is the Grand Duke?”

At Fiona’s question, the Count equivocated and evaded. It was clear he had some defect so great that he could not even bring himself to speak of it.

Was he perhaps a hoary old man? That might even be preferable. If he were very aged, he might see out his days soon enough and conveniently die.

But could a dying old man even sire children?

Well, she had heard tell of an eighty-year-old man in some village who had impregnated his young concubine. The mere thought turned her stomach, and Fiona grimaced deeply.