Saved By The Mad Duke
Chapter 203: The Messenger

Chapter 203: The Messenger

Melania retrieved the writing kit from the top drawer of her desk and dipped the quill into the inkwell.

’Where should I start?’

Although she was determined to send the letters promptly, now that she sat down to write them, her mind went blank. The gravity of the situation hit her belatedly.

War. A war against her people. To kill them. To kill everyone.

Her hands began to shake uncontrollably, and the princess dropped the quill, splattering ink across the pristine white page.

’No time... No time to waste. I need to start writing; at least something.’

Melania made another attempt. After dipping the quill in black ink once more, the words flowed forth on their own, filling the pages with urgent messages.

Two distinct letters took shape; two envelopes were addressed to two different kingdoms. One to forewarn; the other, to seek counsel.

"Loraline," Melania burst into her lady-in-waiting’s bedroom, startling the woman with her disheveled appearance, "Get ready, you need to go. I need you to send out letters, right this moment!"

"My Lady!" Loraline nearly toppled off her sofa, her reading glasses clattering to the floor. It was evident she had been ready to retire for the night and was not expecting any late-night visitors.

Melania collapsed into the seat beside her and continued urgently, "There is no time to waste, Loraline. Please, get dressed and head to the shopping district. Find a messenger––any messenger––and pay whatever money they ask, but ensure the letters are sent immediately and discreetly! This is an emergency!"

Loraline was bewildered, her mind swirling with questions, but the urgency in both the princess’s expression and tone kept her from voicing them.

"Yes... Alright, I understand, Your Highness. I will do as instructed."

Accepting the envelopes, the lady-in-waiting hesitated as she noticed the recipients. Her entire body tensed. Nevertheless, pushing aside her growing unease, she swiftly dressed, concealed the letters within the secret pocket of her simple black dress––her usual attire for sending Melania’s letters––and inquired,

"I will try to return as swiftly as possible. Is there anything I should be cautious of?"

Melania took a moment to ponder before nodding.

"The royal family. If you spot anyone from the palace, invent a plausible excuse and return here immediately. Don’t venture out, just go back. If that occurs, we will need to consider an alternative method of sending these letters."

"Yes, I understand, Your Highness."

With a gesture of comprehension, Loraline pulled the hood of her thin black cloak over her head and departed her quarters, melding into the night’s shadows.

Melania waited until Loraline’s footsteps faded away before exhaling deeply. Placing her hands over her chest in prayer, her voice trembled as she whispered,

"God, all that is holy in this world, please ensure the safe delivery of those letters... Please help us both."

***

Loraline maneuvered through the dim alleys of the slumbering shopping district, finding solace in the dark cloak of night. These narrow passageways and twisted corners were no strangers to her anymore; after all the letters she had already dispatched for her princess, she could navigate them blindfolded, or so she believed.

Halting before the entrance of an old, abandoned flower shop, its windows darkened for years, nestled behind a towering structure belonging to a thriving jeweler, she rapped on the weathered door five times, signaling her arrival.

This was a ritual devised by none other than King Yuraon himself. Once he began dispatching his own secret messenger, it was decided he would occupy the abandoned shop while awaiting Melania’s letters.

With a soft creak, the door swung open, revealing a tall, gaunt figure dressed entirely in black, peering cautiously from behind it. His narrow, dark eyes scrutinized his nightly visitor before extending an invitation to come inside.

Loraline retrieved the envelopes from her concealed pocket and passed them to the messenger.

"Here. Two letters this time. One is destined for Lafad. Can you ensure its delivery as well?"

The man scrutinized the letters before casting Loraline a somewhat suspicious glance. In a gravelly voice, he finally asked, "How did you know I was here?"

"I received a note from your king. I have not informed Her Highness yet because I do not think it is the right time. I have destroyed the note, so there is no need to worry. But tell your king to be patient and do nothing. Let him read her letter first."

The messenger nodded. "Understood. I’ll find someone reliable to deliver her letter to Lafad as soon as possible."

"Thank you," Loraline replied, handing him a small black pouch filled with gold coins. Her smile held a hint of bitterness. "This should be more than enough to cover the safe delivery of the letter. Hopefully, there won’t be any obstacles in your path."

Concealing her face once more with the fabric of her cloak, Loraline exited the shop, her footsteps light as she made her way back to the palace. Though she had secured the fate of the letters, an indescribable unease gnawed at her heart.

’This urgency is bothering me... I wonder what is wrong.’

Suddenly, she realized her quiet steps were accompanied by an unfamiliar echo—a sign that someone was following her.

’Don’t panic... Maybe just a drunkard or a beggar... With the warmth lingering even at night, these hoodlums have no shortage of activity.’

Hugging her cloak tightly around her shivering body, Loraline hastened her pace, hoping the person tailing her would see her heading towards the palace and eventually give up. Yet, to her dismay, the footsteps behind her quickened too, matching her own rhythm.

"My Lady!"

The sudden exclamation froze her in her tracks. It wasn’t the voice of a beggar or a drunkard. She recognized it all too well. She knew its owner. Everyone did.

Turning slowly, Loraline swallowed hard, mustering a forced smile. "Your Highness? What––"

"No," Valon interjected, approaching her cautiously, his lips stretched wide in a sly grin. He took her hand gently, placing it atop his forearm, and continued, "Since you seem to be such a fan of late-night strolls, let’s enjoy this one together."