Rosie's Games

"The people in the northern region had long relied on their hunting and gathering skills to sustain themselves," explained the Head Maid. Rosalind couldn't help but notice that the Head Maid, like the Butler, possessed a keen intellect, analyzing their current situation with practicality. Clearly, they weren't mere barkers; they had the bite to back it up.

Continuing her explanation, the Head Maid painted a picture of the people's resourcefulness. "During the warmer months, these resilient individuals would utilize their physical prowess to hunt animals and gather edible plants. They would skillfully stockpile preserved meats like jerky or smoked fish, ensuring a supply for the harsh winter ahead. Exploring the surrounding forests, they would seek out edible roots, berries, and fungi that could be stored or dried for consumption."

"And that's not all," chimed in the Butler. "Most of the people have built underground storage known as ice cellars. These ingenious structures help preserve food during the unforgiving winter months. Fruits, vegetables, and other perishable items can be safely stored, thanks to the cold temperatures within these cellars."

The Butler went on to elaborate on additional methods employed by the people. "Raising livestock suitable for the cold climate, such as goats, sheep, or cold-resistant poultry, provides a sustainable source of meat, milk, and eggs. Breeding these animals during the warmer months ensures a consistent supply of their products, which can be preserved or consumed throughout the winter."

Rosalind nodded, her mind already filled with images of the ice cellars she had seen in the tower. Contemplating the information, she bit her lip, a question brewing in her thoughts. "So, the previous Dukes never had any interest in building a greenhouse?" she inquired, curiosity evident in her tone.

Both the Butler and the Head Maid shook their heads simultaneously, their expressions indicating a shared understanding. "No," they replied in unison.

Taking in their response, Rosalind's understanding deepened. The previous Dukes had always been enigmatic figures, their history documented in the pages of books. Legends and tales spoke of their relentless pursuit of battling beasts, and their insatiable thirst for combat. It was even rumored that upon awakening, the Dukes would grasp their swords and charge forth into battle, eager to bathe in the blood of their adversaries.

Rosalind couldn't help but wonder if Lucas, too, shared this intense devotion.

Upon hearing the detailed explanations, Rosalind's mind immediately sprang into action. She quickly grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill, her artistic abilities not quite up to par but sufficient to convey her vision. Drawing on her past life experiences as the Empress's lady-in-waiting, she knew how to communicate her ideas effectively through sketches.

Carefully reviewing the specifics discussed in the meeting, Rosalind meticulously noted down instructions for the tasks at hand. As the meeting drew to a close, the hands of the clock pointed to the early hours of the morning, with one o'clock illuminated in the darkness.

Sighing softly, Rosalind couldn't help but offer herself a wry smile. The notion of living a carefree existence in this lifetime seemed to have eluded her. Her thoughts drifted to Lucas and his study, pondering the peculiar presence of a bed within its confines. What had once been a mystery now became clear to her. Understanding his need for a private sanctuary amidst the vast mansion, she shook her head, a mix of amusement and understanding tugging at her.

With fatigue starting to weigh on her, Rosalind made her way to her own room. Craving both sleep and food, she knew she needed to replenish her energy before savoring a meal. Prioritizing rest above all else, she resolved to indulge in a rejuvenating slumber.

As Rosalind approached her room, her anticipation for some much-needed rest was abruptly interrupted by the arrival of Magda, whose face was etched with urgency. Sensing the gravity of the situation, Rosalind immediately inquired, concern lacing her words, "Did something happen?"

With a hint of unease, Magda relayed the distressing news... "A few soldiers stationed at the walls... they've been infected by something." The word "infected" immediately sent shivers down Rosalind's spine.

Seeking further clarification, Rosalind pressed for details. "Infected? How? What happened?"

Magda took a deep breath before responding. "They fell ill, displaying symptoms similar to the incident at the burned place. Sir Denys insisted that I inform you immediately. He believes it's the same affliction."

In an instant, vivid memories flooded Rosalind's mind, replaying the horrifying transformation of a human into a demon. She realized that Denys was referring to that very incident, the one Lucas had instructed him to eradicate through fire, fearing the spread of contamination. Rosalind had hoped that they had successfully contained the problem, but it seemed her assumption had been gravely mistaken.

Determined to assess the situation firsthand, Rosalind swiftly made her decision. "Take me to the walls," she commanded, her voice resolute. Magda wasted no time, promptly draping a protective cape over Rosalind, ensuring she was well-covered before escorting her to the waiting carriage.

Rosalind's mind raced with thoughts as they made their way toward the walls. Realizing the urgency of the situation, she suggested an alternative mode of transportation. "Let us ride horses instead. It will be quicker," she proposed, hoping to expedite their arrival.

Magda silently complied, recognizing the importance of swift action. Together, they swiftly made their way toward the stables, preparing to embark on a frantic journey to the walls.

After a swift journey, Rosalind and Magda reached the walls.

"Duchess…" General Lytton was the one who welcomed her. The urgency of the situation was palpable as he spoke, his words tumbling out in a rush. "Duchess... This is going to be a major problem. The soldiers... we don't have the exact count of those affected. If this continues..."

Rosalind held up a hand, interrupting him gently yet firmly. "General, calm yourself," she reassured him, her voice steady with resolve. She understood the gravity of the situation, but maintaining a level head was paramount. "Take me to see them first. We must assess the situation firsthand."

As her words hung in the air, a sudden jolt of apprehension coursed through Rosalind. The voice within her head, an intuitive whisper, screamed at her to run—to flee from the demons.