The Fallen Noblewoman Grasps the Future with a Merchant Woman - The name of the one who crawls on the ground

The candle flame gave a small sputter just before it went out. The darkness before dawn hung heavy over a room in the cheap inn known as the "Traveling Crow." Outside the window, the moon still barely clung to the sky. Klara Wilhelm leaned against the wall, her eyes closed. But she wasn't asleep. She couldn't sleep. Beneath the bandages on her left shoulder, the wound throbbed with heat. The spot where she'd been struck with a club ached all the more in the night's chill. Her small bundle of belongings, already packed, sat on the floor. Just a change of clothes and a meager amount of traveling money. Marta had prepared it during the night so they could leave at any moment. Marta Grace stood by the window. She peered outside through a gap in the thin curtain. Her short silver hair reflected the moonlight with a cold gleam. The thumb of her left hand unconsciously traced the burn scar on the back of it. "[serious]They're here." Her voice was short and low. Klara looked up. Marta's blue eyes remained fixed outside the window. "[whispers]How many... are watching?" "Three. Two at the end of the street, one more under the eaves across the way. They're in plain clothes, but I can tell." Marta paused there and stepped away from the window. "[serious]It's the Iron Ring. Friedrich spun his web in a single night. The highway will be blockaded too. Consider the road to Wasserburg already closed." Klara bit her lip. Friedrich Aschen. The man who was once her fiancé. The very next day after cornering her with her father's letter, he had already tightened his encirclement this far. His sheer tenacity sent a chill down her spine. *(It's like he's playing a game.)* Klara clenched her fist tightly on top of the cloth. "[serious]We're leaving. Before dawn is better. Is that all your luggage?" Marta slung her own pack over her shoulder from the corner of the room. Klara nodded and hugged her small bundle. The two of them opened the door without a sound. The hallway was deathly silent. The old wooden floor creaked slightly with every shift of their weight. Marta headed for the stairs with practiced steps, and Klara followed. They descended to the first floor. Just as they were about to pass the dining hall— "...Customers." A hoarse voice came from the darkness. Klara's shoulders jumped in fright. Marta instantly stepped in front of her. The innkeeper, Hans Lieder, stood in the shadow of the front desk. His face was pale enough to be visible even in the dim candlelight. Greasy sweat beaded on his forehead, and his hands trembled finely. "[whispers]...The front, the back door... it's no good." Hans's voice was barely more than a breath. "[whispers]They're waiting for dawn. Waiting for you two to come out. Six men at the front, four at the back. There are at least ten more in the street. No, more than that... anyway, you're completely surrounded." Marta silently approached the window and peered through the gap in the curtain. In the morning mist, shadows of men in iron boots. The silver iron ring engraved on their breastplates—the crest of the Iron Ring. A mix of uniformed men and plainclothes agents secured both ends of the street. Two more figures could be seen under the eaves of the building opposite. Marta bit her lip. Her left thumb traced the burn scar again. "[cold]What about the back garden?" "That's already... too..." Hans started to speak, then hung his head. "[sad]I'm sorry. You've both been good to me. But there's nothing I can... This is a direct order from Lord Friedrich." Marta placed a hand on Hans's shoulder. "[serious]It's fine. You've done enough. Thank you." Saying only that, Marta walked towards the back of the dining hall. Klara hurried after her. At the back of the dining hall was a small storage room. Further in, there was a kitchen and a wooden door leading to the back garden. Marta stood before that door and pushed it gently. It wasn't locked. Outside, a narrow back garden spread out before them. It was a sunless space, enclosed by buildings on all four sides. The ground was muddy, piled with old barrels and broken wooden crates. Marta looked at the wooden fence at the far end of the garden. It was just a little taller than a person. There were several spots where it was rotten and crumbling; if they could climb over there, they could get into the alley. "[serious]Here. Over this fence, a narrow alley splits off in three directions. The odds of slipping past the watchers are about seventy percent." Marta was rapidly calculating the route in her head. Her blue eyes moved quickly. Klara looked up at the fence. *(I have to climb over this.)* A sharp pain shot through her left shoulder. The wound hadn't fully closed yet. The fever hadn't gone down either. In this condition, could she climb that fence, run through the alleys, and shake off the pursuers—? She knew the answer better than anyone. "[gentle]Marta." Klara spoke quietly. "[whispers]I'll go out the front." Marta's hand stopped. "[serious]...What are you saying?" "[whispers]If I go out the front door, the soldiers' eyes will be drawn there. In that opening, you can escape through the back garden." Marta turned around. Her blue eyes widened, truly wide, for the first time. "[angry]Don't be ridiculous. If you do that, you'll—" "[whispers]Marta, you must have a reason more important than me." Klara's voice didn't waver. "[whispers]You said you have a childhood friend in Wasserburg. And besides—" Klara looked straight at Marta. "[whispers]That night, you went outside the Traveling Crow alone to check the watchers. You haven't told me anything about your past. But that's exactly why I understand. You're carrying something, Marta. Something that lets you live so strongly." Marta opened her mouth slightly. But no voice came out. "[whispers]I am—I am no longer needed by anyone. My father's letter said as much. That he didn't care if I was banished. I have no house to protect, no place to return to. Nothing." Klara tightly squeezed the mark on her left ring finger. "[whispers]But you're different. You still have something unfinished. So—please, run." It wasn't an order. It was a plea. There was a strange calm in Klara's voice. A peculiar peace found in acting for someone else's sake. Marta stared intently at Klara's face. She was about to say something—just then, an angry shout rang out from outside. "[angry]Official business! Everyone in the Traveling Crow, come out! This is the Iron Ring, do not resist!!" The sound of iron boots trampling the cobblestones drew closer. Klara didn't wait for Marta's reply. She squeezed the mark on her left ring finger one more time, hard. Then, she started walking from the back garden into the dining hall. "[angry]Wait, Klara!" Marta reached out her hand. But Klara didn't look back. Her long, reddish-brown hair swayed. She walked through the dining hall, heading for the front door. With trembling hands, she unlatched the lock. *Creeeak—* The door opened. Morning mist flowed in. Outside, more than ten soldiers stood waiting. All of them were armored, gripping clubs and swords in their hands. At their center stood a single tall man wearing white gloves. Friedrich Aschen. His blond hair gleamed in the faint morning light. His cold, blue eyes slowly fixed upon Klara. A perfect smile played on his lips. "[gentle]Good morning, Klara. It's been a while. Out for a walk this early? You must have a lot of free time." Klara forced her voice out. "[scared]...What business do you have here?" "[gentle]Business? Of course. I've come to pick you up. I took the liberty of confirming your father's letter. 'I do not care if she is banished'—truly, your father is a remarkably rational man. I'm impressed." Blue veins faintly surfaced on Friedrich's temple. It was a habit of his when he was genuinely enjoying himself. "[cold]Now then, let's talk inside. It's cold out here." The soldiers seized both of Klara's arms. The wound in her shoulder screamed in agony. Klara stifled her voice as she was shoved into the dining hall. --- A single chair had been placed in the center of the dining hall. Friedrich slowly lowered himself into it. Still wearing his white gloves, he folded his hands on his knee. Behind him, soldiers were lined up in a row. Through the dining hall window, the soldiers securing the outside were visible. Ten, no, more than that. The street was completely blockaded. Klara was made to stand in the center of the dining hall. "[sarcastic]How is it that you keep becoming more and more miserable? Until just recently, you were my fiancée. You had the potential to become a duchess. And yet now—" Friedrich pulled a single document from his breast pocket. It bore the crest of Viscount Vogel—a copy of her father's letter. "[gentle]Your father has completely cast you aside. Do you understand what this means? As of now, you are not protected by any law in this territory. No matter who harms you, they won't be charged with a crime. You are now—an object." Friedrich stood up. Slowly, step by step, he approached Klara. His white-gloved hand touched her chin. "[gentle]You had the good fortune of catching my eye. If you had become my wife, your house and your father would have been protected. And yet—you trampled on that fortune yourself. Through your own stupidity." A soldier pinned Klara's shoulders from behind. A violent pain shot through her left shoulder. Klara's knees buckled and she collapsed. She fell to her knees on the floor. "[gentle]I think you should be grateful to me. After all—just being able to speak with me is something a person like you normally has no right to do." Friedrich looked down at Klara, prostrate on the floor. His right foot slowly rose. The heel of his white leather shoe—pressed down on Klara's left shoulder. "—!!" Klara choked on her breath. A voiceless scream was crushed in the back of her throat. A tearing pain from the wound. Something lukewarm spread beneath the bandages—blood. "[gentle]You won't even cry out? You've always been like that. Enduring, enduring, enduring—just enduring. That's why you were so boring. You." Friedrich stepped down harder. *Throb.* Her vision exploded into white. Klara clenched her teeth. The taste of iron spread inside her mouth. Blood trickled from the corner of her lips. "[gentle]Now then—everyone involved with you is under my supervision. My Iron Ring unit tells me there was a silver-haired merchant woman with you. She should still be inside the inn this morning." Klara's body stiffened. "[gentle]Marta Grace—the sole survivor of the Weiss family, which fell to ruin eight years ago. Her father was convicted of fraudulent dealings, his assets seized, and he died of illness. Her mother and younger brother are missing. It's ironic. That was also an order from my house. I thought we had successfully crushed that family." Klara's focus wavered. *(Marta's family—)* Friedrich smiled as he put his weight onto his heel. "Gh... ah..." The pain threatened to blank out her mind entirely. But— *(I won't give in.)* "[angry]Marta... has already escaped...!" Klara shouted, still prostrate on the floor. Her voice trembled. Blood spread redly across the floorboards. "[angry]She won't be caught... in your net...!" No tears came. She didn't even have the strength left for tears. Only—Klara recognized it clearly. The fact that her name was being tossed around in this man's mouth like garbage. The fact that she, who had been his fiancée, was now nothing more than an insect to be trampled. *(Even so—)* *(At least let Marta escape.)* Friedrich lifted his heel from her shoulder. "[cold]Boring. I have no further use for you." He gave an order to the soldiers. "[serious]Expand the search outside. A woman escaped through the back garden. Blockade the streets and search the neighboring houses as well." Friedrich turned his back, as if he had lost al

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Episode 5

Name: The Fallen Noblewoman Grasps the Future with a Merchant Woman
Author: Novelia

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