Countess of Nottingham

Wida Town The bodies hanging from the wooden frame by the beach had already begun to rot, and the freshly turned earth nearby marked the sites of several new graves. The once-bustling marketplace was now desolate and bleak; the doors of every house—whether timber or stone—were tightly shut, and whenever an oblivious child ran out, they were quickly hauled back inside by a mother or older sibling. A sense of peril gripped the entire town, which was shrouded in an atmosphere that was cold, tense, and ready to snap at the slightest provocation. Baron Campbell sat in the great hall of his castle, eating his meal; he used a piece of white bread to wipe his plate clean, yet his eyes kept darting toward the castle gates, revealing a look that was a mixture of nervous anxiety and excited anticipation. Seeing his steward come running in, Campbell immediately stood up. "Well?" The steward nodded. "Yes, he has returned." The Baron clenched his fists; veins bulged on his forehead from the tension and excitement. Yet, a moment later, he slumped back into his chair, his face ashen, as if all his strength and courage had drained away. "However, you still have time," the steward added, reigniting a spark of hope in Campbell’s eyes. "What do you mean?" "Word has come from the north that the Count has returned to Nottingham Castle. But he likely won't hear the news from here immediately, and even if he does, he cannot rush here at once. We have three days, my lord—just three days to put everything in place. Then, the plan involving you and... the other party can..." "What do you mean by 'won't rush here at once'?" The Baron seized upon the crucial point. "He is getting married, My Lord." The steward relayed the news gathered by spies in the north to his master: "Word has it that the Count has returned with his fiancée and intends to hold the wedding immediately, officiated by the Bishop. News of this will soon spread across the entire Kingdom of Odin." "Marriage?" the Baron asked skeptically. "Who is he marrying?" "A Dubois, My Lord," the steward answered truthfully. "The King's cousin." After concluding the conversation with his steward, Baron Campbell descended into the castle's cellar. Crates of gold coins were stacked there—a fortune of immense scale across the continent of Yamei. And if things went according to plan, he would acquire even more—so much more... The Baron slammed a chest shut, a fierce glint flashing in his eyes as he made a decision that would cause many to suffer a lifetime of anguish. Nottingburg Leah gazed at the girl in the mirror: golden-red hair cascading down to her hips, and skin so fair it was almost translucent. The fullness of her bosom exuded a seductive maturity that belied her years, yet her flushed cheeks still held the innocent, youthful charm appropriate for her age. This was her—sixteen-year-old Leah. Yet, she felt both familiar and like a stranger. The memories were familiar; the soul was not. Amelia Matilda Dubois—the King's cousin and fourth in line to the throne. A Countess born with a silver spoon in her mouth, a royal maiden of such nobility she rivaled a princess—yet one who had lost her father's title while still an infant, becoming a young girl living under her uncle's roof. Even more wretched was the fact that, just two weeks after her sixteenth birthday, she was sold by her gambling-addicted mother for five thousand gold coins to the Earl of Nottingham—the most notorious man in the entire Kingdom of Odin—to become his bride. "Bride"—only someone deluding themselves would use such a term for her situation. Everyone in the Kingdom of Odin knew that neither the man nor the county of Nottingham offered a desirable future. Although the Earl possessed vast lands in the northeast and was the wealthiest man in the kingdom—second only to the royal family—his and his family's infamy was far more widely known and long-standing than his gold... "My Lady?" Her maid, Susie, spoke softly from behind. Leah untied the delicate ribbons at her chest and let her nightgown slip to the floor. Bruises, ranging from blue to purple, stood out starkly against her fair skin. With Susie’s assistance, she slowly lowered herself into the bathtub; the warm spring water caused her pores to open almost instantly, bringing a sense of genuine comfort and relaxation. It was, at the very least, far more pleasant than the night before. "Has he left the city?" Leah asked. In the early hours of the morning, while drifting in and out of sleep, she had faintly heard the rapid clatter of hooves; only one person in all of Nottingham Castle could cause such a commotion. "Yes... yes, early this morning." Susie washed Leah with great care, avoiding the bruised areas. After answering, she stole a worried glance at Leah, seemingly afraid that her mistress might take offense. Leah merely curled her lips into an enigmatic smile; anger was entirely unnecessary. The fact that her husband had left home without a single tender word on the very day after their wedding seemed, in a way, to signal his dissatisfaction with her. Yet, Lia couldn't care less about his approval; to be precise, *she* was the one who was thoroughly dissatisfied! The cleaning products of the era contained no chemical additives, leaving a faint, plant-derived fragrance on her skin after her bath. Lia pushed open the door and, for the first time, took a close look at this medieval-style castle: dim corridors, damp walls, narrow high windows, and the sparse sunlight filtering through them. From a health perspective, a castle like this was hardly fit for human habitation. Lia was reminded of the "Castle of William" described in a song by Jay Chou; while there were no vines creeping over the Count's tomb, the entire castle certainly felt desolate. But at this point, did she really have any other choice? "My Lady!" Alerted by Susie, the butler had rushed over immediately to greet his mistress. He was a man in his fifties with graying temples, dressed in a clean, dignified robe; his demeanor was respectful yet not servile. He spoke slowly to her: "The Count left the city early this morning. He is traveling first to the coast and then heading south to inspect his southern territories; he will return in five days at the earliest." He paused, considering whether he had fully conveyed the Count's message, then bowed and asked, "Does My Lady have any other instructions?" Instructions? Who was she to give instructions? As a bride purchased for five thousand gold coins, Lia was well aware of her standing in this castle—and indeed, in all of Nottinghamshire. The butler’s question was merely a formality; after all, what sort of instructions could she possibly give a husband who had walked out on her the day after their wedding? Besides, as the second-largest landowner in the entire Kingdom of Odin, what possible objection could she have when the first order of business upon returning from her long journey was to inspect her estates, lands, and subjects? Speaking of objections, however, there was indeed one small matter she might be able to negotiate with the steward: "My maid, Ruby!" To be precise, it wasn't as if Lia had married into the Nottingham family without a penny of a dowry; she had, after all, brought a personal maid all the way from her family home—someone who, by law, counted as her personal property. Yet, that very maid, Ruby, was currently locked in a utility closet near the side entrance on the castle's ground floor—sleepy, hungry, and disheveled. Well, considering Ruby had helped the bride attempt an escape the night before the wedding, the fact that she hadn't been summarily beheaded or dragged off to be sold somewhere was probably a sign that they were already showing Lia considerable face. Lia touched her own cheek, feeling that the "face" being shown was rather meager. Regardless, the steward granted her request. After Ruby had been cleaned up and given a hearty meal, and ignoring Susie’s resentful gaze, Lia shut the bedroom door tight, leaving only herself and Ruby inside—the only person who could truly be considered "her own." "Right!" Leah clapped her hands, sat down at her vanity, and took out a quill and a roll of parchment. "So, let's start making a plan." At those words, Ruby’s eyes instantly welled up with tears. "Oh, My Lady..." She wiped her face with her sleeve, smearing away snot and tears indiscriminately, then clenched her fists, her face full of fighting spirit. "Where should we start this time? The window? The side door? The secret passage? Oh, the window is too high, and there are too many people at the side door—plus, I doubt they’d let us sneak into the church again. That leaves only the secret passage. My Lady, oh, My Lady..." Ruby suddenly lunged forward, dropping to one knee and clutching the hand Leah wasn't using to hold her quill. With eyes full of tears, she spoke emotionally, "I will definitely help you, My Lady! Even if it costs me my life, I will help you... successfully escape!" Huh? What? Leah’s mouth twitched. "Escape? Are you out of your mind?!!" Ruby’s jaw dropped in confusion; she let go of Leah’s hand and asked incredulously, "Y-you aren't planning an escape?" *Then why did you lock Susie out and act so secretive?* Leah rolled her eyes in exasperation and thrust the parchment in front of Ruby. A single line of text stood out clearly: "The Earl of Nottingham." "I need to make him fall in love with me!" she added. Love at first sight with some old-fashioned guy? Meekly accepting an arranged marriage? Or perhaps developing Stockholm Syndrome after being r***d and falling for the r****t? Give me a break—don't insult human intelligence quite so blatantly, will you?!! Lia spread her hands, signaling that she simply couldn't accept this kind of plot. She was nothing more than a miserable office worker screwed over by some shameless "God of Transmigration." Getting transported to another world just by sleeping is a total rip-off, isn't it? Getting transported while sleeping—and landing right in the middle of someone else's wedding night—is an even bigger rip-off, right? Getting transported while sleeping, landing on someone else's wedding night, and opening your eyes to find a stark-n***d man pinning you down—that is an absolutely massive rip-off, isn't it? Getting transported while sleeping, landing on someone else's wedding night, opening your eyes to find a stark-n***d man pinning you down, and then going through A, then B, and then C—that is the ultimate, most infuriating rip-off of all time, isn't it?!! Lia wanted, with every fiber of her being, to stick three cucumbers into the headboard and curse the God of Transmigration—wishing for the anal ravaging of his ancestors down to the eighteenth generation. But what good would that do? She remained Amelia Matilda Dubois: fourth in line to the throne of the Kingdom of Odin, a fallen noble, and a young girl in the bloom of youth sold off by her own mother to the Earl of Nottingham for a mere five thousand gold coins. What else could she do but accept reality? Fine, let's just pretend this is a role-playing game—medieval settings are all the rage, after all! And she was the protagonist, with her race and name determined by the system's defaults. Face shape? No choice. Body type? No choice. Skills? No choice there either. The save file index was zero, and the objective for clearing the scenario was tentatively set as survival. The dungeon boss was the Earl of Nottingham—a "cheap" husband with whom she had spent a single night before he walked away without a backward glance, leaving her unable to even recall his face. As for the completion reward... Leah placed the parchment on the vanity, scribbled a few more notes, and then drew a zigzag line connecting them. Right—she needed to reverse the order; she had to secure the completion reward *before* taking out the dungeon boss. She picked up the parchment and held it up in front of Ruby once more. In an era where illiterates were a dime a dozen, a maid who knew even a few characters was considered highly educated; yet, Ruby still looked puzzled—could these blocky, tofu-like shapes really count as writing? Leah gave the parchment a shake and explained the plan to her only ally. "I need a child," she said. "An heir to the Earl of Nottingham!"