Cornered, Bessie seemed flustered at first, but soon bulged her eyes and raised the veins in her neck.

Her voice was so loud that anyone watching might think an innocent person was being accused.

“It could be the same oil! Is there a law saying I can’t use that kind of oil? You can’t make me the culprit based on just this man’s one-sided claim! I’m being wrongfully accused!”

As she continued her brazen denial, Karen glared at her as if she wanted to kill her.

Karen removed her glasses, strode forward, and irritably shook the glass bottle right in front of Bessie’s nose.

“You’re still denying it even with physical evidence? You wretch! How dare you lie!”

“Head maid, I’m truly innocent!”

“Then answer me. Where did this glass bottle come from?”

“I bought it at the market, of course.”

“And this oil?”

“I bought that at the market too. For reading books.”

“How much did you pay?”

The more questions asked, the more disadvantageous it became for Bessie. Based on her answers, they seemed ready to summon the market merchant immediately.

Bessie tilted her head, hoping to gloss over the matter.

“Filling the whole bottle cost about 3 serangs… or was it 5? It was long ago, so I don’t remember well.”

This time Hans stepped forward.

The steward, who always maintained a solemn demeanor without emotional fluctuations when overseeing the mansion staff, showed rare anger.

“Your skin is too thick. You steal and instead of begging forgiveness, you continue to lie! Do you think this situation is a joke?”

After exhaling all at once, Hans closed his eyes to calm his anger.

As a steward, he apologized to Lucilia for losing his composure, then continued in a level voice:

“To fill this bottle would cost at least 30 serangs. That’s a week’s wages for this girl.”

Lucilia slowly looked around at the servants.

“I ask everyone gathered here: is there anyone who would invest a full week’s wages just to read books?”

No one answered Lucilia’s question.

Far from answering, they pointed fingers at Bessie, saying who but a lunatic would waste such a large sum on something so unproductive.

Hans also made no attempt to hide his contempt.

“This oil is used exclusively in the master’s office in this mansion. We use the highest quality oil that produces almost no soot so that he can conduct official business without inconvenience.”

Not only had Bessie lied, but she had also touched the master’s belongings.

As her crime was clearly exposed, Bessie’s attitude changed completely.

She prostrated herself flat on the ground and trembled violently.

The servants snorted at her artificial display.

If she had confessed her crime earlier, she might have faced less scorn—it was utterly pathetic.

Before imposing punishment, Lucilia sought advice from the steward and head maid, who were directly involved in the household management and operation.

“Steward.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“How is theft punished in Tudra?”

“The thief must pay double the value of the stolen goods.”

“And when it’s the master’s property?”

“The wrist is cut off.”

Gasps of shock erupted from all around.

Bessie clutched her wrists as if they had already been struck by an axe and shook her head frantically.

“I won’t, won’t do it again. Please sp-spare my life! My lady!”

“Where was your conscience when you betrayed it, and what use is begging now? This time I’ll ask the head maid”

“Please inquire.”

“Since the fire, ominous rumors have been circulating in the mansion. Do you know where these rumors originated?”

“They started with Bessie. I was told she openly spread talk that disaster had befallen the mansion because of you, my lady.”

At this point, the maids were startled. It was because Karen had never openly questioned them about this before.

Why would she? Maids gossiping was nothing new, and Karen had consistently maintained an indifferent attitude, pretending not to hear the backbiting.

But now it was clear she had paid attention to everything, even the smallest details, which was surprising.

“How is the crime of slandering one’s master punished?”

“Until now, no one has dared to slander the master, but there is a rule that it is punishable by death.”

“My lady! Pl-please forgive me just this once! I was wrong! I won’t do it again. My lady! Waaah!”

Bessie approached Lucilia on her knees.

Judging by the wet ground where she had been sitting, she had wet herself.

As if out of her mind, she crawled up the stairs on all fours without any sense of shame.

But before she could grab the hem of Lucilia’s dress, Ension, who had approached unnoticed, drew his sword and aimed it at Bessie’s neck.

“Step back.”

“Waaah! M-my lady. Please spare me just this once. I was wrong! Please!”

Lucilia looked down at the tear-soaked Bessie with her hands neatly folded.

“When I first came to the mansion, I warned you. I said if you didn’t want to hasten your death, you should change your attitude. But you haven’t improved at all. No, you didn’t even have the will to improve.”

“N-no, that’s not true. I will definitely change. I can promise! Please, just spare my life!”

People don’t change easily. Illnesses can be cured, but changing one’s character is incredibly difficult.

Almost impossible, one might say.

However, Lucilia didn’t want to get anywhere near the ominous rumors. As the mistress, she should punish Bessie, but her heart was reluctant.

She never intended to kill Bessie from the start.

Of course, she had no intention of embracing her either.

Her plan was to make an example with punishment and to let people know that she had been granted the authority of the mistress.

“You just want your life spared? Then can you give up your wrist?”

“That’s…”

Still not coming to her senses, Bessie shook her head repeatedly while scattering tears.

Though Lucilia disliked the look in her eyes that expected forgiveness, she also thought cutting off the wrist was too harsh.

She judged it appropriate to make her pay compensation and receive punishment separately.
Standing in the center of the stairs, Lucilia took a deep breath.

Amid all eyes on her, her composed voice spread:

“You will pay double the value of the stolen oil, 60 serangs, receive a whipping, and then be banished from the estate. Will this suffice?”

As Lucilia’s gaze turned to Hans, he seemed to consider briefly before respectfully offering his answer:

“It falls slightly short of estate law, but as you intend to show mercy, I will comply.”

Bessie, who had nearly died, sighed with relief.

But before her tears could dry, Lucilia dropped a brief command:

“Carry it out immediately.”

As soon as the order fell, Bessie’s face turned pale again. But her senses seemed to have returned, as she no longer begged for leniency.

After all, if she did, she would inevitably have to give up the wrist she had barely saved, so she wouldn’t dare.

Lucilia turned away after telling Hans and Karen to control the servants and give them a stern warning.

She felt satisfied having firmly established her hierarchy with the authority granted by Aaron, but as the tension eased belatedly, she had to secretly fidget with her hands.

* * *

Among the commanders gathered for the strategy meeting, Aaron exuded a murderous aura.
No one dared to speak carelessly to him.

When his wife had been there, he seemed to have some humanity, but once left alone, he went around with fire in his eyes like a madman obsessed with sl*ughter.

For several days, he personally stood guard at the front line, brutally butchering every scout that appeared.

Not satisfied with just that, he cut off enemy soldiers’ heads and hung them in visible places.
When there seemed to be no end in sight, even Gorenzo tried to stop him.

How could it be otherwise?

Even just recalling the fact that Lucilia had almost died made his emotions uncontrollable.
Since she had returned to the estate without complaint, Aaron had immersed himself in work relentlessly.

Though he wanted to sweep away Mrangel immediately, he couldn’t arbitrarily change the strategy, so he raised his patience to the maximum.

However, he showed no mercy to enemies who stealthily crossed the border.

His irritation was already at a dangerous level, and with the Mrangel bastards continuing their provocations, there was no chance for his murderous intent to subside.

He poured out his anger toward the enemies, adding to it his rage at the Pope who had sold out the country.

Aaron, who had been glaring at the map, irritably massaged the back of his neck.

“Now is the perfect time to strike while they have no leader. How long are we going to just face off? We need to launch a full-scale offensive to turn the tide.”