My Disfigured Duke Husband Helps Me Plot My Revenge
Chapter 294: Time Flies

Chapter 294: Time Flies

Count Mikael von Burien was someone generally displeased at all times. He could find something wrong with anything around him. It was a state he was used to so it no longer bothered him to be full of darkness and only voice complaints.

As he woke up for the first time in he wasn’t entirely sure how long, the bitterness was at the forefront of anything else.

He liked to tell himself that he hadn’t always been like that. There was a time when he was a young count who was more lighthearted and had fewer worries. However, he met Jara Livareth and his life went downhill from there.

King Stephano II promised him a beautiful foreign mage who was the daughter of a world-renowned mage who received a noble title because of his talents as a magician alone. He was too much for the northern kingdom not to notice him. It was a rare instance where someone’s talent spoke louder than their wealth.

Jara was supposed to be a clever girl who led Burien County to prosperity. It would also bid well to have a mage close by so he could ride on the trend of accepting mages. They were gaining a notable position in society with people like Jara’s father leading the charge.

At first sight, Jara was beautiful. The young count was attracted to her from the get-go, at least until she was comfortable enough to open her mouth.

Mikael soon realized he was delivered a wild girl resistant to his very presence. She often argued with him and asked him not to touch her. She made sure to tell him frequently she loved someone else and only they were allowed to touch her. Unfortunately for her, she fell pregnant very quickly, and, from that point forward, she swore to stick it out simply for the baby growing inside of her belly.

Jara became more obedient. Even though she was still a daydreamer, she was a lot easier to handle and easy to control.

Leonor was born pre-term. Despite coming more quickly than expected, Leonor was a healthy baby. She looked just like Jara and nothing like the count. Maids marveled that she looked full term despite being a couple of months shy of a normal pregnancy.

Luckily, the issue of Leonor’s appearance was fixed when Anna was born. He finally had a child who looked more like him.

Yet he could never be entirely happy.

Mikael thought that he could very well love Jara, but their relationship turned even more sour when she couldn’t produce him a son. It wasn’t for lack of trying. They tried and tried until the final pregnancy that would result in her death.

The already bitter count became a monster far worse than Jara could have ever imagined. Seeing Leonor was like seeing the only woman he ever wanted to conquer but couldn’t. She was such a spitting image of her mother.

Continuing the theme of displeasure through his life, Count Mikael opened his light brown eyes and was immediately irritated at the state of his surroundings. He remembered falling asleep in his manor. What was the meaning for his change of scenery?

"Maid!" the man shouted, his voice raspy from dehydration and sleeping for such a long time.

Since his voice wasn’t all that effective at the moment, he weakly reached for a bell on the tableside and started ringing it until his weak body dropped the item and it clattered to the floor with a hollow clang before the room fell silent.

A maid rushed in, shocked.

When the door was open, it revealed a soldier at his door and the eyes of other maids who were equally as shocked to see the count open his eyes after the state he was in for such a long time.

A maid offered him water. When the cup was empty he threw it.

At least his throat was finally moist enough to continue his tirade.

"What in God’s name is the meaning of this?" he spat. "Where the hell am I?"

However, his voice ceased despite how much he desired to keep ragging on. The door opened and revealed to him was the King and the disfigured duke his daughter had been married to.

He could hardly remember a thing about recent times, but he knew that he should behave in front of at least those two.

"Your Majesty," he greeted as if he hadn’t just been shouting at his help. "Your Grace."

Weakly, the man still did his duty to try and muscle himself higher and bow to those who were higher than him.

However, he should have put in the terms between him and the duke that he didn’t want to have to see him more than once a year if necessary. In his mind, it had only been six months since he married his daughter off.

He didn’t realize it had been so much longer.

"Remain still," Stephano spoke first. "Don’t spend energy you don’t have."

The King had seen how the man trembled as he tried to sit up. Rather than worrying about decorum, Stephano wanted him to spend his energy answering questions.

"Please, have a seat," Count Mikael said and his voice was rough.

To Desmond, it was almost satisfying to hear someone else struggle to speak the way he had the first year of healing after being nearly killed by the dragon. If the man who sent him to the front lines could pay for it little by little, it would be enough for him.

"I would prefer to stand," Desmond resisted.

Stephano, for once, agreed despite his usual desire to be still and sit somewhere comfortable. Being in the same room as someone who was that badly under the effects of black magic was hard for him. It made him feel like he was depleting fast. The suddenness of the feeling made him slightly dizzy. He couldn’t imagine what would happen if he placed a hand on the man at that point.

It made him far more worried about what Leonor was likely feeling.

The two men held strong, standing reasonably far from the count, not wanting to show him familiarity at that moment anyway.

"What do I owe this pleasure?" the count asked.

Stephano and Desmond exchanged glances and the King arched one of his faintly reddish eyebrows, deciding to let the duke take the lead.

"You have been accused of participating in the practice of black magic," Desmond explained, holding nothing back. "How do you respond to that?"

The count’s mouth hung open and his eyes darted back and forth between the men. He had a lot to say but needed to rein himself in before he started hurling insults.

"Absolutely preposterous," Mikael argued, immediately heated. "First you request my dear daughter’s hand then you accuse me of this. You have been overstepping. In only half a year, where did you get this audacity, Your Grace?" He then turned his head towards the King, shooting a pleading expression which both men found surprising. "You have to believe me, Your Majesty. I was one of your father’s most trusted."

Black magic was a serious offense. There was no paying it off or recovering from such an accusation. Removal of title or even death weren’t unheard of punishments for such a crime. If they took his title, they might as well kill him regardless.

However, Desmond looked past the hardly controlled tone of the count which could be seen as disrespecting someone above his station. There was something else about his words that bothered him.

"Half a year?" Desmond questioned. "What do you think happened half a year ago?"

Count Mikael wanted to scoff but managed to hold himself together. It felt like the duke was mocking him.

The count remembered winter last and, when he looked out the window, he saw that it was still certainly winter so he figured that’s what it must be.

"You married my daughter half a year ago now, Your Grace," the Count answered as even as he possibly could.

"It hasn’t," Stephano interjected. "We’re a few months shy of two years, my lord."