The Calm Before the Storm
Inside Charlotte's cottage, however, a different scene unfolds—a warm and tranquil atmosphere.
The firewood crackled in the fireplace, and the flickering flames illuminated the entire room, dispelling the chill outside the window.
Charlotte sat at her desk, a delicate sheet of paper laid out in front of her, with several wads of discarded manuscript paper piled up beside her.
She frowned slightly, sometimes picking up her pen to write, sometimes pausing to ponder, appearing very serious.
After learning that Carnford had survived and Karl was safe and sound, the huge weight that had been pressing on her heart for so long finally lifted, and color and radiance returned to her pale face.
Although she couldn't go to Carnford in person because of her pregnancy, her heart had already flown to the person she longed for.
She is writing a letter to Karl.
She carefully considered this letter, writing and revising it repeatedly.
She wanted to tell him how much she missed him and how proud she was of him, and she wanted to share her joy at her father finally agreeing to their marriage. But when it came to the most important and surprising secret—the child in her womb—she hesitated, unsure how to begin writing.
Ultimately, she decided to keep it a secret for now; she wanted to give him the perfect surprise.
Finally, she took a deep breath and wrote the final paragraph:
"... Karl, my dearest, Father has officially approved our marriage! He asked me to tell you that once things have settled down in Carnford, you must come to Fran City as soon as possible."
"I've also prepared a special surprise for you. I'll tell you in person when you arrive. I hope you settle in soon and come to see me. I wish you all the best. I miss you day and night."
"You will always love me, Charlotte."
After writing the last word, she gently put down the quill pen, breathed a sigh of relief, and a blush of happiness spread across her face.
She carefully folded the letter, put it in an envelope, sealed it tightly with Wax Seal, and stamped it with her small seal.
Just then, the door was gently pushed open, and Aunt Martha walked in carrying a glass of warm milk.
She saw Charlotte finally finish writing the letter, and a kind smile appeared on her face.
Even more striking was that Martha was holding a newly finished baby sock, made of soft wool yarn, only the size of a palm.
The socks had fine stitches and a warm color; they looked absolutely adorable.
"Miss, have you finished writing the letter? Drink some milk to warm yourself up," Martha placed the milk on the table, then presented the little sock to Charlotte like a treasure, her eyes full of love and anticipation. "Look, this is something I just knitted for my future little master or young lady. How is it? Is the size right?"
Charlotte took the incredibly soft little sock, placed it in her palm, and felt its delicate texture. Instantly, her heart was filled with a huge, warm feeling of happiness.
She imagined what her and Karl's child would look like wearing these little socks in the near future, and her eyes involuntarily welled up with tears.
"Thank you, Aunt Martha ... It suits you perfectly, it's beautiful..." she said softly, her voice choked with joy.
Aunt Martha smiled with relief, reached out and gently stroked Charlotte's noticeably protruding belly, and said softly, "As long as Miss and Master are safe and sound, I'll be content."
The master and servant smiled at each other, and the room was filled with a warm and peaceful atmosphere.
The firelight flickered, casting their shadows on the wall. Outside the window, the Northern Territory winds still howled, but inside the cabin, it was warm as spring, filled with boundless anticipation for new life and a bright future.
Inside the castle of Fran City.
The boisterous celebration continued until late at night before gradually subsiding, with guests leaving in high spirits, and the castle slowly returning to tranquility.
Inside the Count's luxurious bedroom, however, a different, passionate yet secluded scene unfolds.
After the banquet, the Count and Ella returned to the place one after the other, without tacitly agreeing to each other's presence.
The heavy curtains were drawn, blocking out the cold and light from outside.
The air was filled with a faint aroma of wine and Ella's distinctive, alluring perfume.
Ella shed her elaborate evening robes, wearing only a silk nightgown that accentuated her mature and alluring curves.
She walked up to the Count, extended her slender hand, and gently stroked his cheek, which was flushed from alcohol and excitement. Her eyes were alluring, and her voice was captivatingly magnetic.
"Come... my lion... let me see if you can still be as... fierce as you are on the battlefield tonight..."
The Count looked at the charming woman before him, who knew exactly how to please him.
The pressure accumulated over the past few days due to the war and political affairs, combined with the excitement of tonight's victory and the stimulation of alcohol, instantly transformed into a primal impulse.
He swept Ella up in his arms and carried her to the large, soft bed.
Franklin Territory, Duke Schmidt's Estate, Study.
The pine wood in the fireplace crackled softly, dispelling the damp chill characteristic of the Southern Kingdom winter.
The air was filled with a faint smell of cigar smoke and old parchment.
Duke Schmidt sat behind a large mahogany desk, his brow slightly furrowed, his gaze shifting between the documents laid out on the table.
To his left was a beautifully printed copy of the Prye City Daily, its front page headline in exaggerated font proclaiming, "Ode to the Ode to the Great Carnford Victory! The King's Divine Power Blesses the Lonely Castle in the Northern Territory, A Miracle is Created!" Below it was prominently displayed the name of his second son, Kaspar von Schmidt.
A slightly mocking smile involuntarily appeared on the Duke's lips.
This article is ornate and full of praise, attributing most of the credit to "His Your Majesty's wise leadership." His second son, who is skilled in writing and adept at currying favor, certainly knows how to please the king.
However, to his right was a secret parchment letter written in illegible handwriting using special code.
This letter, from Edgar, is quite different from the laudatory newspaper articles. It is calm, objective, and even contains graphic details, describing the brutal Carnford Siege Battle.
The Sauron' frenzied attack, the defenders' desperation at the point of exhaustion, Karl's heroic and valiant fight, the critical moment when the city walls collapsed, how Earl Rochefort's North Wind Squad provided timely assistance, and how his eldest son Friedrich and third son Konrad risked their lives to rush to the aid from afar...
Looking at the description in the secret letter, I imagined my taciturn youngest son, Karl, wielding his longsword amidst mountains of corpses and seas of blood, fighting to the death without retreating.
Even the Duke Schmidt's cold, worldly heart, accustomed to weighing pros and cons, was unusually stirred by a complex ripple.
There was surprise, there was disbelief, but more than anything, there was a sense of relief that even he himself had not anticipated, and even a faint sense of pride.
Duke Schmidt was particularly pleased to witness the brotherly affection and mutual support between Friedrich, Konrad, and Karl.