How the Villainous Consort Avoids His Death Ending

When I turned my head, the glasscraft artisan and his family came into view.

They stood with their hands clasped politely, calling out to Tristan in cautious voices. Their soft manner of speaking drifted to my ears on the wind.

“Excuse me, Your Grace.”

Tristan looked at them and asked briefly.

“What is it. You must have much to prepare. Do you need anything more.”

The artisan shook his head in a hurry.

“I am already overwhelmed with gratitude for everything you have arranged for us. There is nothing more someone like me should dare ask for.”

A faint look of puzzlement appeared in Tristan’s eyes. I felt the same curiosity.

They were supposed to leave soon, slipping deep into the northern continent. Tristan had even prepared settlement funds for them. I thought they would be busy with travel preparations, so I did not know why they had come.

It seemed they had something important to say. The artisan hesitated for a long time, choosing his words carefully before finally speaking.

He tried to keep his voice steady, yet the ends of his words trembled with something he could not hide.

“There is simply a request I wish to make. It is shameless of me, but I must say it.”

“Speak freely. I will help within my ability.”

“It is just that, Your Grace…”

The artisan took a deep breath. Behind him, the tense expressions of his family were unmistakable. What could he be so hesitant to say?

At last, the artisan stammered and barely managed to speak.

“Would Your Grace permit us to live under your domain. In Hezekia.”

My breath caught. For a moment I doubted my ears. What did he say just now.

Did he mean he wanted to settle in Hezekia.

Truly. Earnestly.

A glasscraft artisan from Istenia Island.

“…”

Tristan’s expression did not change. Only a long, heavy silence followed.

“Hezekia is not an easy place to live.”

Tristan finally spoke quietly.

“Crops do not grow well, and every spring brings a severe season of scarcity. Winters are long and harsh. It cannot be compared to Istenia, where everything is abundant and plentiful.”

“Your Grace says this because you do not know how we lived in Istenia.”

“I know that your lives were not free in many ways. But freedom is something that can only be discussed after one’s livelihood is secured. In Hezekia, you must worry about survival itself. Your skill is exceptional, but skill alone cannot guarantee survival there.”

But the man shook his head slowly. A faint trace of bitterness colored his voice as he continued.

“Yes, we did not starve. We are valuable labor, after all. But the lord treated us like slaves. No, we were closer to livestock. Precious geese that lay golden eggs.”

“…”

“The skilled young girls were regularly taken by Count Dearsby’s servants. They wished to see many children who resembled their mothers. The boys who worked in glasscraft were treated no differently from breeding stock. The more their seed spread, the more golden egg laying geese would be born.”

Neither Tristan nor I, listening from a distance, could say anything. The man, whose voice had been choked with sorrow, fell to his knees before Tristan.

“I am already old and weary. But the children are still young. I cannot let them inherit such a life. That is why we risked our lives to flee that place. We were unlucky and captured by pirates the moment we escaped, but… it was Your Grace who saved us.”

“That is why I told you to live in the northern continent. Neither Count Dearsby nor Everett will be able to follow you there. With your skill, you can support your entire family.”

“But do you know what kind of lord rules this place. Anywhere is paradise compared to Istenia, that much is true. But I wish to spend the rest of my life in a land ruled by a lord like Your Grace. I hear Hezekia is a self-governing territory. Neither Count Dearsby nor the imperial authority can reach it. Please, grant this wretched man’s wish, Your Grace…”

His pleading voice struck painfully against my chest.