I Stole The Duke - Chapter 120
Eliana put on a wide-brimmed hat and riding gloves, then made her way down to the first floor of the cabin.
“Oh, dear heavens! Madam! I didn’t recognize you yesterday—how terribly rude of me!”
A woman, hurrying about the kitchen trying to light the damp hearth, looked up and gasped when she saw Eliana. She stomped her feet in panic.
“It’s all right. I was able to rest well thanks to you. And the food you prepared was delicious.”
“If only I had known it, was you, Madam, I would’ve prepared something far more fitting…”
The vineyard cabin had originally been built to house an overseer dispatched from the duke’s estate. That the Duke and Duchess had spent a night in such a modest and shabby place left the workers surprised and flustered. They didn’t know how to act around such nobility in such surroundings.
“There were reasons for it, so don’t dwell on it.”
For the sake of a covert operation, Joel had posed as the supervisor, and the staff had been deceived. Their reaction was understandable.
“More importantly, I’d like to see the grape harvest up close. Who can show me around?”
“Ah, the harvest foreman has been waiting to escort you. He’s right outside, Madam.”
“All right, then. Don’t worry about lunch running late. There’s no need to rush.”
“Yes, Madam.”
Relieved, the woman turned her attention back to the stubborn hearth fire.
“Good day, Madam. I’m Jeff, the harvest foreman.”
As Eliana stepped outside, a middle-aged man waiting by the door quickly took off his hat and gave her a deep bow.
“Nice to meet you, Jeff. I’d like to take a closer look at the harvest.”
“Right this way, Madam.”
It felt almost unnecessary to be guided—the vineyard was just across the cabin’s yard. Dozens of workers moved along the rows of grapevines, snipping grapes with shears and placing them into baskets. Others were transporting the full baskets using handcarts.
“Everyone, pay your respects—this is the Duchess!”
“Oh dear! Greetings, Madam!”
Startled by Jeff’s announcement, the workers all froze mid-task, panic written on their faces as they quickly dropped to the ground.
“Oh… Please, don’t mind me. Just carry on with your work.”
Eliana, flustered, quickly urged them to rise and continue.
“How many grapes shall we set aside for the estate?”
“Please fill up that brown carriage over there.”
They had two carriages—hers and Olive’s. Filling one of them with grapes would be more than enough for the return trip.
“Yes, Madam.”
“I’d like to try harvesting some myself. May I have a basket and shears?”
“Ah—of course!”
Taking the tools from Jeff, Eliana carefully began picking grapes at a spot slightly removed from the rest of the workers. She couldn’t gather enough for every knight back home, but she wanted to personally harvest grapes for the people who worked closely beside her.
“Are you here to work now, Madam?”
“Michalis? Oh, not quite. I just wanted to personally take care of something for my people.”
As her basket reached about halfway full, Michalis silently appeared at her side and casually took the basket from under her arm.
“‘Your people,’ is it?”
He gave the basket a quick glance and furrowed one eyebrow. There were far too many people under Eliana’s definition of “my people.”
“Yes. Amy, the maid in charge of my wardrobe, the butler, the kitchen staff…”
“That’s enough. Your hands will get scratched.”
Before she could list more names, Michalis cut her off. He would rather hand out a handful of checks to the staff than let her injure herself on a grapevine.
“Are you the foreman? Load this one into the black carriage.”
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
Handing the basket to Jeff, Michalis then immediately took Eliana’s hand in his.
“More importantly, I need your help with something, so I came to get you.”
“Sorry? My help?”
“I’ll explain everything on site.”
Without fully understanding what was happening, Eliana allowed herself to be led by Michalis into the wine cellar.
“Ah, so this is where you’ve been keeping him.”
As they entered the wine cellar, rows of oak barrels filled with wine lined the space. Amidst them stood the green-haired man. This secluded area was indeed an ideal place to discreetly deal with someone.
“Mm! Mmm!” Olive began to thrash and shout the moment his eyes met Eliana’s.
“Do you have something to say?” Eliana asked.
“Mm-hmm!” Olive nodded fervently.
“He’s an incredibly foul-mouthed individual. There’s no need to listen to him,” Joel interjected.
“Still, we should hear his final words. Joel, please remove his gag.”
“Yes, Madam.” Without hesitation, Joel untied the rope binding Olive’s mouth.
“Pah! Fallen goddess, how’s life on earth treating you?” Olive spat out the cork and stared directly at Eliana.
“Goddess? You’ve got it wrong, Olive. I’m no deity,” she replied.
In this world, if there were gods, they would likely be the system itself.
“What else could someone with the Eye of Insight be, if not a god?” Olive retorted.
There was no other term for someone without magical talent yet possessing wisdom surpassing that of a sage.
“…” Eliana remained silent.
“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter now. But it seems our lady can’t see the future yet.”
“What do you mean?” Eliana inquired.
“If you could see the future, you would have chosen me.”
“Sigh… Olive, under no circumstances would I ever choose you.”
Eliana sighed. Even in his current state, the green-haired man hadn’t come to his senses.
“Shall I tell you the future? These three men here will all die by my master’s hand, and your estate will become a barren wasteland.”
“Could it be… Karahan?”
Eliana suddenly felt breathless at Olive’s words. A nightmare she had long forgotten resurfaced.
“Eliana!” Michalis, pale-faced, held onto Eliana as she staggered back.
“Exactly! That’s why you should have chosen—”
Thud!
Olive, in his final outburst, was struck on the head by Iadis and lost consciousness.
“That child… He mustn’t be killed. Don’t kill him, Michalis…”
Eliana murmured, half in a daze.
[If you’ve taken something precious from me, you must lose something too.]
In her nightmare, Karahan had stood amidst blood-soaked rubble and spoken those words.
‘Could Karahan’s precious thing… be the Espensen family?’
“Eliana. Look at me,”
“Michalis…” Eliana responded.
Michalis gently cupped her ears, locking eyes with her. His voice was slow but clear.
“I won’t let that happen. No one here will die by a magician’s hand.”
They gazed into each other’s eyes in silence. Michalis’s deep blue eyes showed no fear or hesitation.
“What can I do to help?” Eliana asked, regaining her composure as if cold water had been poured over her. Releasing the green-haired man now would be foolish. It was better to aim for a perfect crime.
“Do you have a card capable of transformation magic?” Michalis inquired.
“Yes…” Eliana replied.
“Please give it to me. I’ll handle it.”
Michalis didn’t want Eliana to dirty her hands if possible.
“Here it is.” Eliana, relying on the magical light, found the desired card and handed it to Michalis.
“Imperial Polymorph: Other.” Michalis confirmed the activation phrase on the back of the card, placed it on Olive’s knee, and activated the magic.
“Hmm… It’s strangely fitting,”
he remarked.
Eliana blinked her wide eyes in surprise. For a moment, there was a flash of light—then suddenly, Olive, who had been tightly bound to the chair, had changed into an entirely unexpected form.
“Sir Joel. Bring me an empty oak barrel.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Running errands was always left to Joel, the youngest.
Clip-clop. Clip-clop. Two carriages traveled side by side along the smooth dirt road. It had been some time since they finished their modest but tasty lunch at the farm and got back on the road.
“Did you enjoy the farm visit?”
“Yes. It’s quite different from just seeing it on paper.”
Managing the farms within the estate was the duchess’s responsibility, and now that Eliana had seen them in person, she felt she could better picture the scenes whenever she read the reports.
“Oh! I forgot to check the stock in the cellar.”
“We can send a supervisor there tomorrow.”
Michalis chuckled at how quickly Eliana shifted into work mode. After all, this trip wasn’t really for work—it had been part of a mission.
“Now that I’ve seen the vineyard, I’d love to visit the wheat fields in winter.”
In warm Flencia, winter brought generous rainfall, making it possible to grow wheat and barley. Eliana found herself imagining the golden wheat fields she had only seen in videos, dreaming of walking through them.
“That’s not possible.”
“Why not?”
“The wheat fields are too far. It would take at least three days and two nights for a round trip.”
Michalis was quick to shut down any chance of her spending the night away.
“What if we used teleportation magic?”
Ahem. “If it’s just a half-day trip, then… I suppose we could go together.”
Michalis changed his stance in an instant.
“Moments like this make it feel like I’m on a trip with you, Michal. I really like it.”
Eliana smiled as she turned her gaze to the window. The endless rows of grapevines had come to an end, replaced by cork oak forests on either side of the road. She hadn’t known that peaceful countryside like this existed just beyond the noisy coastline—another unexpected charm of Flencia.
“I like it too.”
Michalis gently reached for Eliana’s hand and laced his fingers with hers. It had been a long time since he’d felt this relaxed, even though he knew a mountain of work would be waiting for them back at the castle.
“But it still hasn’t woken up?”
Eliana glanced over at the oak barrel sitting to one side of the carriage.
“The blow to the head must’ve been pretty strong.”
Iadis must not have held back, considering all the pent-up frustration he had toward the creature.
“What do we feed it?”
“It’s omnivorous, so we can probably give it anything.”
Michalis picked a grape from the basket next to him and tossed it into the barrel. It bounced off the creature’s head with a soft thud and rolled away.
“Even if it eats anything, I doubt it likes grapes…”
Eliana tilted her head, watching Michalis’s little mischief with a hint of amusement.
“If it wakes up hungry, it’ll eat something, no matter what it is.”
“By the way, what are we calling that turtle?”
Inside the now lidless oak barrel lay a baby sea turtle, its shell tinted with a soft green hue.
“It’s called an olive ridley sea turtle.”
Michalis had learned this after peeking into Olive’s memories. Someone had once started calling him “Olive” because of his hair color, and the name had stuck. The creature had always felt a little embarrassed by that name he picked up on the streets.
But a being named Olive somehow suited it perfectly. And so, Olive became an olive ridley sea turtle—Lepidochelys olivacea.
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