The Chronicles of Van Deloney-Chapter 21: AN HERBAL TO LORDSHIP

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AS THE DAY wore on and the sun gradually began to set once again at the Village of Hestonia, the members of the group led by Charlotte and the two men prepared to leave the village, with three shipments of Calendulas in tow. The harvest had been a success, and the party was ready to go, their supplies collected and ready to venture forth.

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Charlotte bestowed an affectionate pat on the head of little Maisie, who had been hugging her toy close to her chest. "Be a good child to your father, okay?" she asked her gently, speaking words of farewell as they prepared to take their leave from each other. Maisie nodded enthusiastically, smiling as she snuggled in the embrace of her toy, ready to go and spend time with her father. "I'll be a good girl, Miss Charlotte!" She promised with a nod and a sweet smile on her face.

"I am certain of the fact that the three packages I handed you over are equivalent to a month's worth of work," Stupert snickered, affectionately patting Vladimir's back, who stood firm, maintaining a neutral expression on his face. Argentum on the other hand, smiled brightly, his demeanor filled with contentment, happy with the successful transaction.

The trio set out with their carriage, ready to bid farewell to their hosts. Maisie, the adorable little girl, waved at them goodbye with a charming smile on her face, her thanks and invitation echoing in the air. "Adieu, Miss Charlotte! Come visit once more soon!" Maisie's cheerful words were met with a response of the same sentiment and tone as Stupert nodded and smiled at the sweet child.

The clock ticks the hour—its deep, sonorous chimes reverberating through the vast halls of the House of Grimoard as the three figures hurried down the cobbled path leading to the mansion's grand entrance. Midnight had descended upon the estate, its darkness creeping over the manicured gardens, casting long shadows that whispered of ancient secrets and untold mysteries. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and the faintest trace of something floral—a quiet reminder of the garden that bloomed even under the moon's pale gaze.

Charlotte walked with an even step beside Vladimir and Argentum, her movements precise and purposeful. Her face, though pale from the strain of their hurried journey, was composed—her calmness a sharp contrast to the tension that seemed to hang thick in the air. She carried the satchel of calendulas with careful reverence, knowing that these delicate flowers, prescribed by the doctor for Saevionh's condition, were the only hope they had left. Though she felt the weight of the situation pressing upon her, Charlotte's resolve remained steady. The doctor's instructions had been clear, and with the calendulas now safely gathered, all that was left was to administer them and wait.

"I trust these will suffice," Charlotte remarked quietly as they ascended the grand staircase, her voice calm yet carrying the weight of necessity. "The doctor seemed certain."

Vladimir, walking a few steps ahead, glanced back at her, his face impassive but his eyes betraying his concern. "Let's hope he's right," he replied, the faintest edge of anxiety in his tone.

Charlotte gave a small nod, her gaze fixed ahead. "We have no other option but to trust it. It's all we can do."

Argentum, who had been unusually silent, let out a low sigh, his gaze flicking between Charlotte and the growing shadow of the mansion around them. "Will it be enough?" he asked, his voice soft but thick with doubt. "Will this be enough to save him?"

She looked at him then, her expression unwavering. "We will know soon enough," she said, her voice steady. "But we must not lose faith. Saevionh has fought this long. We owe it to him to give him every chance."

When they reached Saevionh's bedroom, the two butlers who had volunteered to stand watch greeted them with respectful bows. The atmosphere in the room was heavy, the only sound the soft crackle of a lantern flickering by the bedside. The butlers, though servants, had long seen the family through their moments of crisis, and they were well aware of the significance of this night.

"How is he?" Charlotte asked, her voice still composed, through her eyes briefly flickered with concern.

The first butler, a tall, wiry man with graying hair, inclined his head. "He rests, Miss Charlotte. Though his condition... remains precarious. His breathing is shallow, and there has been no improvement."

Charlotte nodded thoughtfully, her eyes taking in the sight of Saevionh, pale and frail in his bed. The golden light from the lanterns cast soft shadows over his features, making him appear even more fragile, almost ethereal. Her hands moved with practiced care as she placed the calendulas on the bedside table, the prescribed flowers laid out as directed by the doctor. Their scent was faint but unmistakable, a hopeful, comforting fragrance that offered a quiet promise.

"Thank you," Charlotte murmured to the butlers before turning back toward the bed. She arranged the flowers gently, ensuring they were positioned just so, her hands steady and sure. Despite the weight of the situation, her calmness was unwavering.

As she stepped back from the bed, her gaze shifted to the hallway, where she saw Dorothea—the Countess—standing in the shadows. Dorothea's eyes were shadowed with weariness, and her face was set in an expression of quiet resolve, but there was no mistaking the sorrow that lingered in her gaze.

"Charlotte," the Countess said, her voice soft but tinged with something deeper, something unspoken. "I had hoped to find you here."

Charlotte turned to face her, her posture composed, a slight bow of acknowledgment the only sign of her respect. "We have gathered the calendulas, Your Excellency. The doctor's prescription has been followed. Saevionh will be cared for."

Dorothea's lips pressed into a thin line, but there was a subtle shift in her demeanor. She seemed to steady herself, the quiet sorrow in her eyes momentarily giving way to a hard, determined edge. "I trust you will see to it that he receives everything he needs," she said, her tone firm, though tinged with the quiet sorrow that seemed ever-present. "And that you will not let this matter rest."

Charlotte met her gaze directly, her expression calm but resolute. "Of course, Your Excellency. I will ensure his treatment is carried out with the utmost care. I will not rest until I know he is out of danger."

"Charlotte..." Dorothea's voice, though low, carried a hint of warmth, one rarely seen from the Countess. She spoke with a certain humility, a rare softness that hinted at her true concern. "Perhaps it is best that you rest for now, for the night is almost over, and you must be weary. You have done much already, and I do not wish for you to exhaust yourself further. Let the others handle things from here. You deserve a break. Take some time to recover your strength."

Charlotte, standing calmly with her hands neatly folded before her, allowed a faint, almost imperceptible smile to touch her lips. It was a gesture of reassurance, the kind that masked the true weight of the situation—a calm exterior covering an ocean of thoughts.

"Be not concerned, Your Excellency," Charlotte responded, her voice steady, unaffected by the tiredness that surely clung to her. "I am quite well, and there is little time to rest just yet. But thank you for your concern." She gave a small, respectful nod. "I simply wish to ensure that everything proceeds as it should."

Dorothea's eyes softened, but her expression remained firm. "I understand your dedication, Charlotte. Yet even the most tireless of individuals must pause when the work has been done. You've given much of yourself already. Now, it is time for the others to step in. Trust that the matter will continue in capable hands. Allow yourself the rest you've earned."

Charlotte regarded her with calm understanding, her posture unwavering. "Your Excellency, I am simply... doing what needs to be done. I am not one to rest while there is still a task left undone." Her gaze softened, and for a brief moment, she allowed herself to acknowledge the fatigue in her bones. "But I understand your words. I will leave the matter in capable hands for now."

Dorothea looked at her with a mixture of respect and something deeper—perhaps concern, perhaps admiration. "You are a tireless soul, Charlotte, but even you must know when to step back. Rest now, and let the others take up the reins. You have earned it."

Charlotte stood still for a moment, weighing the Countess's words. She had always carried the weight of responsibility on her shoulders, and to relinquish it—even for a brief moment—felt like a difficult decision. But as she looked at Dorothea, who seemed equally burdened, something in Charlotte's demeanor softened. She nodded, though her mind remained focused on Saevionh's condition before finally returning to her destined room.

The heavy wooden door to Saevionh's chamber creaked softly as Dorothea stood in the threshold, watching the servants move about the room. Their hands were steady, but there was a palpable tension in the air as they worked with quiet precision to attend to Saevionh, who lay still on the bed, his condition unchanged but not worsening. The moonlight filtered softly through the windows, casting a faint glow upon his pale face.

Dorothea lingered in the doorway, her eyes tracing the movements of the servants as they applied the doctor's prescribed treatments with reverence. Each motion seemed measured, deliberate—as if the slightest mistake could tip the balance in Saevionh's precarious state. Her gaze, however, never left him. She stood in silence, watching over him as if the very act of being present could help guide him toward recovery.

Dorothea sighed deeply, the weight of the evening's events pressing down upon her. She looked toward the window, where the full moon hung high in the sky, its silvery light casting a quiet glow upon the room. The calmness of the scene contrasted sharply with the turmoil that churned within her, and she stood there for a moment, contemplating the path that lay ahead.

"It seems that the events are rapidly gaining complexity for you, Viktor," Dorothea murmured softly, her voice barely a whisper. She spoke the words to the night, to the moon that gazed down upon her with its timeless gaze. Her voice was steady now, her eyes shone with something more—grief, determination, perhaps both.

"I never thought it would come to this... but for your sake, I will see this through."