Chapter 131: A Rival’s Welcome.

Chapter 131

The iron-rimmed wheels of the ducal carriage ground to a steady halt before the manicured grounds of the Dumbledore Estate. Lilith stepped out first, extending a gloved hand to assist Sigrid down onto the stone path, while Chester moved with quiet, martial efficiency, his sharp eyes surveying the perimeter of the courtyard.

Sigrid smoothed the heavy dark silk of her gown and proceeded up the grand stone steps toward the arched entrance. Before her guards could sound the iron knocker, the double doors swung open to reveal the master of the house.

Viscount Henry Dumbledore stood upon the threshold—a man noticeably shorter than Sigrid, yet possessing a broad frame and a commanding, formidable presence that easily filled the doorway. Upon locking eyes with the Duchess, his stern features broke into a wide, booming smile framed by a thick, silvered beard. "Sigrid!" he called out, his voice rich with unfeigned delight.

Sigrid offered a rare, genuine smile in return, well accustomed to his boisterous demeanor from the years of her youth. Beside her, Leo stared in open bewilderment, struggling to reconcile the Viscount’s warm reception with the harsh realities of political rivalry. Henry gestured broadly for the party to enter, immediately commanding his head butler to prepare a fresh tray of fine tea and pastries.

As they settled into the opulent parlor, Leo, unable to contain his confusion any longer, leaned toward Sigrid and whispered quietly, "Your Grace... forgive my ignorance, but are you two not fierce political rivals competing for the same high office?"

Sigrid let out a quiet chuckle, shaking her head. "We are competitors now, Leo, but his connection to my life runs far deeper. Viscount Dumbledore was my personal tutor throughout my childhood."

Henry leaned back in his leather chair, his smile softening as he looked at the boy. "Indeed, young master. I instructed Her Grace in history, statecraft, and rhetoric from her early years until her fourteenth name-day, just before she departed for the Royal Academy." His warm expression faltered slightly, his tone dropping to a quiet, somber register. "Though I must admit, attempting to guide you through those dark years following your mother’s tragic passing was an unbearable weight to carry, Sigrid."

Sigrid’s crimson eyes remained serene, her expression unreadable as she replied smoothly, "What transpired in the past cannot be altered, Viscount. It simply was what it was." Leo looked around the grand room, noting several polished war trophies and ceremonial weapons mounted upon the stone walls. Sensing the boy’s curiosity, Sigrid added, "The Viscount is a distinguished veteran of the realm’s border campaigns."

Henry stood up, the movement revealing a fully sculpted steel prosthesis replacing his left leg beneath his tailored trousers. "Lost the limb two years before I entered the service of the late Duchess Beaufort," Henry remarked, eyeing the window as his tone shifted into serious gravity. "I was a bitter, broken soldier, entirely convinced my usefulness to the kingdom had reached its end. Yet it was my vast knowledge of historical strategy that allowed me the honor of educating the young heiress of Beaufort." He turned his back to the room, staring out into the courtyard as his posture hardened. "Tell me, Duchess Aethermor... what truly brings you to my domain today? Surely you did not travel all this way merely to remind me of how thoroughly you cast me aside after my tutelage concluded?"

Sigrid’s jaw tightened slightly at the sharp accusation, though her voice remained steady and refined. "Viscount, you possess far too keen an intellect to genuinely believe such nonsense. Following your departure, my father strictly curtailed my freedom, and Maria’s insidious influence rendered my existence isolated and miserable. You are a mature nobleman; you cannot possibly hold a petty grudge over the silence of a grieving child."

Henry remained facing the glass, though a subtle twitch touched his shoulders. "Yet you were elevated to Duchess... and I was not even favored with an invitation to your grand wedding."

Sigrid let out a soft sigh, the faint shadow of a smile touching her lips. "I could claim I was unaware of your whereabouts after my father relieved you of your duties, but as a Duchess, such an excuse would be disingenuous. The truth is that my mind was consumed with surviving the present, and I was hesitant to drag figures from my past into the perilous dramatics of my new life. Does that explanation satisfy your pride?"

Henry turned around slowly, a broad, hearty grin breaking through his stern facade once more. "Aye... yes, it does." He stepped forward, taking a warm scone from the silver tray the maid had just set upon the table. Devouring it in a single bite, his demeanor shifted instantly from emotional reconciliation to crisp, political pragmatism. "Now that my tender feelings have been adequately mended, let us speak plainly, Duchess. Why have you graced my estate?"

Sigrid crossed one leg over the other, resting her hands neatly in her lap. "I require you to withdraw your candidacy for the office of Supreme Minister of State, drop your campaign, and cast your official vote in my favor."

Henry froze for a brief moment before breaking into an amused smirk. "I am afraid I cannot possibly grant such a request, Sigrid."

Sigrid’s lips curved into a cold, triumphant smile. "I expected nothing less from my former master."

Henry wiped his hands on a linen napkin, leaning forward with genuine curiosity. "Pray tell, why are you so desperately intent upon securing the Supreme Ministry?"

Sigrid stood up, her dark velvet gown cascading around her frame like a shadow. "Power," she stated simply.

Henry scoffed, gesturing broadly with his hand. "Power? You are already a ruling Duchess, wed to Duke Soren Aethermor—a man who represents absolute military authority in physical form!"

Sigrid’s crimson eyes narrowed, her voice laced with unyielding resolve. "A husband’s power is not my own, Viscount. My enemies grow bolder by the day, and with the Duke deployed at the war front, I require absolute administrative authority within the palace walls to crush their maneuvering."

Henry let out a dry, dismissive laugh. "With such monstrous ambition, why stop at the ministry? Why not simply march into the capital and claim the throne as Queen?"

Sigrid’s heart seized for a fraction of a second, the phantom memories of her horrific past life as Queen flashing violently behind her eyelids before she forced her breathing to remain calm. She offered no verbal response, her silence heavy and absolute.

Henry’s expression sobered as he looked at her. "Duchess Sigrid, I hold you in high esteem, but I shall not yield this race. My campaign continues."

Sigrid showed not a single flicker of disappointment. "That is most unfortunate."

Henry tilted his head, testing her stance. "Shall you attempt to utilize your ducal authority to suppress my campaign?"

"Do not insult my intellect, Viscount," Sigrid replied with a chilling, elegant smirk. "I have no need for legal coercion; I shall simply outmaneuver and dismantle your position on the political floor."

Henry chuckled quietly, though a warning glint flashed in his eyes. "Be cautious, Your Grace. Arrogance has brought down far greater figures than us."

Sigrid straightened her posture, her tone absolute. "Unwarranted arrogance breeds ruin, Viscount, but my confidence stems from relentless labor and absolute preparation. Now, I must take my leave."

Henry bowed deeply as she turned toward the door. "May the odds favor your house, Duchess... though governing the realm as a woman wed to a man the Crown endlessly seeks to destroy shall prove a formidable trial."

Sigrid stopped dead in her tracks, turning her head to lock her piercing crimson gaze directly onto him but a chilling smile resting on her beautiful face. Stepping close enough that her voice dropped to a razor-sharp whisper, she murmured, "Every soul who dares stand as an obstacle in the path of myself or my husband shall be methodically destroyed. Remember that well, Viscount." With those final, heavy words, Sigrid swept out of the parlor, her retinue following swiftly behind as the heavy oak doors clicked shut.

Left entirely alone in the quiet parlor, Viscount Henry Dumbledore let out a long, ragged breath he had been holding. The confident, boisterous demeanor vanished instantly, replaced by a pale, trembling shadow of anxiety. "She has departed," Henry whispered toward the shadowed alcove behind his desk, his voice laced with genuine dread.

From behind the velvet drapes stepped Countess Celestine Everhart, her sapphire gown immaculate and her face wearing a serene, victorious smile. She held a sealed parchment between her delicate fingers, stepping forward with graceful, unhurried steps. "A commendable performance, Viscount," Celestine remarked smoothly, her voice dripping with artificial praise.

Henry turned upon her, his face flushing with a mixture of rage and intense disgust. "What more do you demand of me, girl?!" he snapped, his voice shaking with suppressed fury. "Have you no semblance of decency or respect for a veteran of this realm?"

Celestine paused, her blue eyes turning cold and dangerous as she looked down upon him. "Do not dare lecture me on respect, Viscount Dumbledore. I act under the direct, explicit authority of figures who reside far above your humble standing. You performed your assigned script, and now you shall continue to play your part without deviation."

Henry’s hands clenched into tight fists at his sides, his eyes blazing with helpless fury as he looked at the royal mandate in her hand. "You are forcing me into a trap that will drag the entire court into darkness!"

Celestine merely offered a cold, beautiful smirk, setting the parchment on his mahogany desk. "You have no choice in the matter, my lord. Remember what hangs in the balance should you fail us."