The Fallen Noblewoman Grasps the Future with a Merchant Woman - Morning Star, from the ashes

Friedrich Aschen's white boots stopped right in front of Klara Wilhelm, who was still sprawled on the dining hall floor. Friedrich slowly removed his white gloves. One finger at a time, with deliberate care. As if savoring the time that was about to begin. [cold] "Well then, let's put an end to this." His right hand rose. The soldiers closed in on Klara and Marta all at once. Their iron boots pressed against the floorboards with a creaking sound. There was no escape. Not through the back door, not through the front, not out the windows. Eisenring soldiers in gray uniforms had completely surrounded the dining hall. [cold] "Take the merchant woman too. She's an accomplice. We'll have a nice, long chat in the dungeon." A soldier's hand reached for Marta's shoulder—and in that instant. Marta Grace stood up on her own. [cold] "Don't touch me." A low, icy voice. Her narrow blue eyes stared straight at Friedrich. Her silver short hair gleamed coldly in the dim candlelight. Marta took a step forward. [cold] "My name is not Marta Grace." The air in the dining hall shifted. [serious] "Marta Weiss—the daughter of the general goods merchant your family crushed here eight years ago." Friedrich's movement stopped. Just for a second. The smile that had been playing at the corners of his lips froze in place. A blue vein faintly surfaced at his temple. Klara, still on the floor, saw it. (*This man—he knows Marta's name.*) Her heart thumped hard. Beyond the pain in her left shoulder, something began to burn. Friedrich quickly recovered his smile. But it was different from before. A thin, pasted-on smile. [sarcastic] "The Weiss family? My apologies, but I don't recall the name of such an obscure merchant." Marta didn't answer. Instead—she knelt down. She slipped her fingers into the old floorboards of the dining hall. A gap she had loosened beforehand opened with a small sound. From within, a thin leather pouch emerged. Marta pulled out several sealed letters and a handwritten ledger. [cold] "If you don't remember, I'll enlighten you." She opened the first letter. [serious] "Licensing Bureau Chief Ernst Blum—the man who runs your family's licensing bureau. Records of the bribes this man has extorted from merchants every year in the duke's name. The amounts have increased year by year. Three years ago, eighty talers. Last year, one hundred and twenty talers." A small stir ran through the soldiers. [cold] "Stop her—" [serious] "There's more." Marta held up the second document. [serious] "Handwritten signatures of thirteen merchants whose licenses were unjustly revoked over the past eight years. The breakdown: four general goods merchants, three textile merchants, two blacksmiths, and four others. All of them had their shops destroyed on false charges, lost their families, and fled the territory. Three of them are no longer in this world." Thirteen signatures lined the page. At the very bottom, in trembling handwriting, was written "The Weiss Family." Friedrich's white-gloved fingers gripped the back of a chair. [serious] "The third document. A copy of a forged document bearing your family's secondary seal. It's presented as the official paperwork for the license revocation in the Kleinhandel incident eight years ago. However, the date here does not match the date on the original stored in the Central Archives. Your family rewrote the documents after the fact." Klara looked up from the floor. Marta's hands were not trembling. Her left thumb was not tracing the burn scar. (*So this is—what she's been doing alone for eight years.*) Friedrich stepped forward. [cold] "And what of it? Something like that, I can just confiscate and burn right now—" [serious] "The copies are no longer here." Marta's voice cut off Friedrich's words. [serious] "I've left copies of everything with my contacts in Wasserburg. If you harm or capture us here, those documents are set to reach Lindenburg, Althafen, and Friedenstal—every major merchant guild on the continent—within three days." The dining hall fell deathly silent. The soldiers glanced at Friedrich's expression. They couldn't move. Everyone was waiting for orders. Friedrich's smile vanished. The vein at his temple stood out clearly. For the first time, his blue eyes carried a cold light. [cold] "...Do you understand what it is you're doing?" [serious] "I don't want to hear that from you." Marta clutched the evidence documents to her chest. [serious] "Your family took my family from me. My father died, and my mother and little brother vanished somewhere. Eight years—for these eight years, I've lived for nothing but this." Her voice was calm. But—her hands trembled, just a little. Klara saw that trembling. (*Marta...*) Friedrich turned his back. [cold] "We're withdrawing." The soldiers hesitated. [serious] "But, Your Excellency—" [angry] "Did you not hear me?! I said withdraw!" Friedrich's voice turned harsh for the first time. He began walking toward the exit. The sound of his heavy boots struck the floor. He stopped in front of the door. Without turning around, he spoke in a low voice. [cold] "I'll retreat for today. But—don't think this is over." The door opened, and a cold wind blew in. Friedrich left, and the soldiers filed out of the dining hall one by one. The sound of iron boots faded into the distance, and eventually—. Silence fell. Only Klara and Marta remained in the dining hall. Klara was still sitting on the floor. Marta was returning the evidence documents to the leather pouch. One by one, with care. Her hands—were trembling. She had been fine just moments ago, but now, her fingertips quivered faintly. "...Marta." Marta didn't answer. She tied the leather pouch's cord tightly and clutched it to her chest. Then—she sat down beside Klara. [whispers] "...There's something I want to show you." Marta held out her left hand. From the back of her hand to her wrist ran an old burn scar. The skin was taut and discolored white. [whispers] "The night eight years ago—the day the license revocation notice came. My father tried to burn all the shop's ledgers. Crying, he threw them into the fireplace—but the lamp tipped over. The fire spread, and I tried to put it out with my bare hands." Klara gazed at the scar. [whispers] "My father fell ill right after that and died before spring came. My mother and little brother were hounded by debt collectors and disappeared somewhere. Where they are, whether they're even alive—I don't know." Marta's voice was calm. But her left hand was trembling. [whispers] "I've lived for revenge. That alone has been my—" Her words broke off. Klara moved. Her injured left shoulder hurt, but that didn't matter at all. She reached out both hands—and wrapped them around Marta's left hand. [whispers] "...It's warm." On the ring finger of Klara's right hand was the mark of a ring. On Marta's left hand was the mark of a burn. (*This person too—just like me.*) Every day, she had confirmed the traces of what she had lost with her own hands. Unable to forget. Not wanting to forget. [whispers] "I also—I also had nowhere to belong. But, because you were here for me..." Klara's voice trembled, but—it was just a little stronger than usual. Marta was silent for a while. Then, she let out a small breath. [whispers] "...Klara." She said her name for the first time. Before dawn broke. The two of them remained seated on the dining hall floor, checking the evidence documents one by one. Marta picked up a sealed letter and handed it to Klara. [serious] "I said I'd send copies to Wasserburg—but the truth is, I've only sent part of them so far. Berta Edel, a seamstress—my childhood friend who's been secretly supporting me—she's holding about half of them. The deliveries to the guilds across the continent still need to be arranged." Klara took one of the documents. A copy of the forged document bearing the Brenhart family's secondary seal. She stared intently at the seal. [serious] "...Marta. I can use my knowledge for this." Marta looked up. [serious] "A noble family's secondary seal always has a fixed date and verification code. This copy lacks those. But—if I create a certificate in the proper format of an official verification record, even if Friedrich tries to declare this a forgery, we can refute it." There was no hesitation in Klara's voice. She had been a noblewoman until just a year ago. The knowledge of law and document preparation she had learned then was now a weapon. (*There is something—I can do too.*) [serious] "I won't just be protected. I'll fight too. Together with you." Marta looked at Klara intently. Then—the corners of her mouth relaxed, just a little. [gentle] "...That's the spirit." Outside the window, the sky was just beginning to lighten. Dawn was breaking. The two of them stood up. [serious] "Let's go to Wasserburg. We leave at dawn. We'll make our move before Friedrich can use official documents to declare the evidence a forgery." [serious] "Yes." Outside the window—the edge of the sky was faintly brightening. A single last star still shone. On the dining hall floor, the evidence documents and their two hands lay side by side. A scarred hand, and a hand with a burn mark. But they were—no longer trembling.

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Episode 6

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

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