Her Majesty’s Secret Service

042. Employment Diary

February 12, 1554.

“Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!”

“Kill!!!”

Even the cold wind, unable to overcome the heat of the populace, died down.

‘Tower Hill,’ the hill in front of the Tower of London.

Those who came to witness the unfortunate man’s end, who had lost family, honor, and even hope, were pouring out cries of madness, wishing for the man’s death.

“Excuse me, may I ask one last thing?”

The man, accepting the fervent madness desiring his death, opened his mouth calmly.

“What is it?”

The executioner, standing beside the man soon to meet death by his hand, seemed ready to answer the man’s question.

“My wife… no, my former wife Jane, is she here today?”

“If you mean her, she was released a week ago by Her Majesty the Queen’s order.”

“Is that so? It seems Her Majesty has forgiven her. That’s fortunate.”

A faint smile of relief appeared on the face of the man, Guildford Dudley.

“Executioner, I don’t know your name, but I have one request. Could you tell Jane that I am sorry?”

“I’m sorry, but no one can enter the mansion where she was confined. That would be difficult.”

Though masked, the executioner’s face was surely stern as he gave a curt reply. Guildford couldn’t help but let out a wry laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“Do you find something amusing? You, who are about to die.”

“Indeed, it is quite amusing.”

With those final words, no further conversation ensued. The executioners, their arms bared and masks flipped up, grasped Guildford roughly and laid him down on the block. The bishop’s prayer had already concluded.

The executioner who had been speaking with Guildford, his long mask in place, now raised his axe high into the air.

“Strike!”

“Kill him! Kill him!”

“Death to the traitor!”

As the executioner’s axe rose, so did the cries of the crowd.

“Lord, have mercy…”

Before Guildford Dudley’s brief prayer could fully pass his lips, the heavy axe fell towards his neck.

Guildford met his death instantaneously, without a moment to feel pain.

As the axe fell, Guildford’s severed head dropped like rotten fruit beneath the scaffold.

“Huzzah!”

“Hurrah! Hurrah for Her Majesty the Queen!”

As Guildford’s head fell, the citizens’ cheers resounded once more. With hands raised, they welcomed the death of the traitor, their fervent eyes already moving on to the next victim.

On Friday, February 12, 1554.

John Dudley’s son and Jane Grey’s husband, Guildford Dudley, met his death.

* * *

The Lady of Suffolk, or rather, the former Lady Jane Grey, looked around the garden of the house where she was imprisoned and offered a silent prayer of gratitude.

A week ago, it happened while I was still trapped in the Tower of London.

Suddenly faced with the arrival of Queen Mary, Jane thought her end had come. Surely, the queen was there to persuade her one last time before her execution,

Back in July and August of the previous year, when she had just been imprisoned in the Tower, the queen would send people weekly, offering ‘conversion in exchange for sparing her from the death penalty.’

But then, the offers of conversion abruptly stopped, and from that day on, Jane resigned herself to her fate, silently accepting her impending death.

“Has the day of my execution been decided?”

There was a slight tremor in Jane’s voice. She tried to maintain a composed demeanor, but after all, Jane was only a 17-year-old girl. Despite her best efforts to appear stoic, the experienced queen seemed to notice Jane’s quivering.

“Yes, the day after tomorrow is when I plan to execute you. I came to see your face one last time.”

Mary’s voice was full of jest, but the setting of the prison tower and Jane’s predicament made it impossible to detect the playfulness in her tone.

“I see… I… understand…”

Jane tried to sound unaffected, but it was impossible to hide the sob in her voice. Seeing Jane like this, Mary gave an awkward smile and said,

“Hmm… Seeing you react like this makes me feel embarrassed. Don’t cry, Jane. I have no intention of killing you. From today, you will leave this place and stay at the mansion in the outskirts of London that I have prepared for you.”

Confusion etched itself on Jane’s face, which was on the verge of tears.

“What do you mean…? If you desire my conversion… as I’ve said before, I will not convert…”

“You don’t have to convert. Just swear loyalty to me, that’s all. I know well that you committed treason unwillingly.”

“Excuse me?”

“What, you can’t even do that?”

And so, a week ago on that day, Jane swore loyalty to the queen and was granted a new life.

Although confined and watched over in the mansion, Jane was not uncomfortable with such treatment, as she had grown weary of being used by others to such an extent.

“Ah… So this is what they meant by ‘the air is different beyond the walls’…”

Jane murmured, recalling the words she had heard in the Tower of London.

Unlike other prisoners, Jane, being of royal blood, could step outside the prison to breathe fresh air whenever she wished. Of course, crossing over the walls was out of the question.

Even when confined, the air breathed as a prisoner awaiting execution in the Tower of London was far less refreshing than that as a queen’s hostage.

“It seems today was the day.”

Today was the execution day of her former husband, Guildford Dudley, as she had heard from the queen. Though their marriage had been forced, it was the day a man who had once been her husband would have to face death.

‘May Guildford find peace in the Lord’s embrace.’

Jane prayed silently for Guildford. After a brief prayer, she opened her eyes and glanced over the garden once more, her gaze resting on the early-blooming daffodils in a corner, reminding her once again that she had survived.

* * *

“Today is Guildford’s execution day, isn’t it? So, how did he look at the end?”

“He offered his neck calmly,” they said.

“Is that so? He met a fate similar to my father’s.”

Mary spoke of Guildford’s death indifferently while looking out the window. After staring outside for a while, she suddenly turned to Anne as if she remembered something she had forgotten.

“Anne, weren’t you supposed to have lunch with Eric today?”

“Yes. The Duke said he would come here.”

“I almost forgot. Tell the head chef, Eric is coming for lunch today.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I will convey your message.”

Anne, the housekeeper, left the room to inform the ‘head chef’ of the queen’s command.

Shortly after, Anne opened the door to the room closest to the royal kitchen and entered.

A man, fully dressed, was sitting at the innermost desk, pen in hand, scribbling on paper. A book lay open beside him, as if he were transferring its contents onto the paper.

The man glanced briefly in the direction of the door and then returned his gaze to the paper, opening his mouth to speak.

“What brings you here?”

“Sir Logan, Her Majesty has announced that she will have lunch with Duke Eric.”

“Yes? So sudden… Understood. Please tell Her Majesty that I acknowledge her command.”

Upon Anne’s words, Logan, the head chef, closed his book and rose from his seat.

As the head chef, he had to carry out the Queen’s command.

* * *

It was only after being knighted last month that I could obtain an official position.

Since there were no vacancies in the existing positions, as Count Russell had said, there was no choice but to create a new one.

The newly created position, ‘Head Chef,’ was a so-called ‘sweet gig’ with considerable authority compared to the workload.

The Head Chef’s duties were to manage the royal kitchen and oversee the companies supplying ingredients to it. Of course, there was an existing chef managing the kitchen, so I didn’t have to do it myself.

Another duty, managing the suppliers delivering ingredients to the palace, also required almost no effort from me. There were traditional suppliers for the royal family, and they had a history, so inspecting the quality of the ingredients they brought in was the entirety of the job.

Despite the low intensity of the work, the Head Chef had the authority to employ a servant and command two soldiers as escorts.

Moreover, in name, I had the authority to select the suppliers for the royal kitchen. Of course, the final decision lay with the Queen.

The Queen had influenced the process of me obtaining this position.

Since my salary came from Count Russell’s purse anyway, the Queen could comfortably create the position, saying it would be a waste to let my cooking skills go unused, thus bestowing upon me the responsibility of the royal kitchen as the ‘Head Chef.’

“Oliver, did you hear? Pass the message to the kitchen.”

“Yes, Sir Logan.”

I no longer stood in the kitchen. The only times I did were when the Queen specifically ordered to taste my cooking.

As Oliver went to convey my orders to Chef Marco, following the Queen’s message, I picked up the pen and opened the book again.

As soon as I received the position and was assigned a private office, the Queen, as if she had been waiting, brought out a book that had been hidden in a corner of her bookshelf.

It was the book containing the blueprints of the ship I had brought.

I often thought that the Queen assigning me a cell as an office, and the head chef’s duties being so leisurely, might have been intentional.

After all, since taking the position of head chef, I’ve spent more time interpreting these blueprints than managing the kitchen.

“Today, I’ll just do two more pages and rest… Sigh, I’ve been at it for a month, and there are still three hundred pages left…?”

* * *

After Steve and Courtney were imprisoned in the Tower of London, Earl Russell had not slept well.

Recently, London was engulfed in a festive mood every Friday. The Queen had started the executions she had postponed right after suppressing Wyatt’s rebellion.

Especially the nobles, who had been kept alive for various political reasons, were beheaded first.

After Wyatt’s rebellion, no connections or justifications could stand against the soaring royal authority.

“Seeing that I’m still fine, it’s certain that Steve and Courtney are keeping their mouths shut…”

The Earl did not believe that the Queen was unaware of his betrayal. If she had known, he would have already been thrown into the Tower. That’s what Earl Russell thought.

The fact that Steve and Courtney were still alive was a burden, but it was not what unsettled the Earl.

It was Logan, the ‘head chef’ whose salary he was paying regularly from his own wallet, who made Earl Russell anxious.

When Logan first blackmailed him, the Earl had thought about silencing him with death, but the timing was the issue.

At that time, the political climate was fierce due to Wyatt’s rebellion, and if the Queen’s favorite chef, who had also helped suppress the rebellion and was about to be knighted, was found murdered, it would naturally lead to an investigation.

So, the Earl had proposed a negotiation to Logan, thinking it best not to stir up trouble. Fortunately, Logan accepted Earl Russell’s offer, and it seemed that the matter had ended.

But recently, the Queen had started the postponed executions, and in a month, the blood of over a hundred people had stained Tower Hill.

And today, the neck of Guildford Dudley, the eldest son of John Dudley, had fallen. With the execution of the nobles involved in John Dudley’s rebellion, it was clear that those involved in Wyatt’s rebellion would be next.

As if to prove it, the prisoner hanged after Guildford Dudley’s execution was a soldier involved in Wyatt’s rebellion.

“That means, the Queen no longer cares about the Wyatt rebellion, doesn’t it? The ones recently imprisoned in the Tower on suspicion of joining Wyatt… were nobles whom Her Majesty had long been wary of…”

Muttering so, the furrow between Earl Russell’s brows deepened.

“It’s about time to silence that man.”

Footnote:

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*Tower Hill was a traditional place of execution. Typically, prisoners held in the Tower of London would have their heads taken there.

*If you’re curious about what the executioner’s mask looked like, please check out the executioner Mundo skin in League of Legends.