In the past life, Maria hadn’t been arrested until the very end of the year, caught red-handed while trying to smuggle the wealth out of the chapel storage. Back then, Priest Roland had only confessed everything to Miller after the tragic news of the children’s deaths in the slums reached him.
Francesca smirked, remembering the cold, clinical reports she had read in her previous life before the paperwork was sent off to the capital to her as the New Lady of the House. This time, the ending would be different.
“I am arresting you,” she her eyes locking onto the group huddled in the doorway. “You pathetic bags of human filth.”
“You... you will regret—” Keith began, but before he could finish his threat, The paladin struck him across the back of the head, knocking him unconscious in one swift motion.
The other knights instantly surged into the room, dragging the remaining three out into the light.
“You...! You bitch! Do you think Miller will believe you or these worthless freaks?” Maria screamed as the paladin held her tight, dragging her across the stone. “Who do you think you are?! You crippled freak!”
“Me? Do you have dementia?” Francesca chuckled, leaning on her cane as she watched the noblemen struggle in the dirt. “I am—”
“She is my wife. How could you forget that, Aunt Maria?”
A voice boomed from the courtyard entrance. Miller walked in towards Francesca, flanked by his knights and mercenary troops, with the rescued children following safely behind them. “Mil—Miller?!” Maria’s eyes widened in horror. Beside her, the three vassals turned pale.
“My Lord, we are being framed!” Alaric shouted, his mind racing to find a way out. He put on a mask of naive outrage. “Tho—those children committed burglary at our estates! We were only here to investigate their connection to the church!”
“Ah... how unfortunate, Lord Alaric,” Francesca said, wrapping her arm around Miller’s for support. Miller took her cane for a moment, using the tip of it to mockingly poke at Alaric’s chest. “Must have been quite the burglary,” she added, “if they only stole incriminating ledgers.”
“I can’t believe I ever took advice from such disgusting people,” Miller said. His glare was cold and heavy, striking direct fear into the men on the floor. The battle-hardened look of a mercenary king was more than they could endure.
“So, a year’s worth of embezzled funds are inside that storage?” Miller asked Francesca, his tone softening as he reached out to pull a stray hair away from her face. “Yes. It’s quite a substantial amount.”
“How did they even plan to transport this much without being noticed?” Miller questioned. Before anyone could answer, Francesca pulled him closer, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered.
“Not right now. It will only backfire if my father’s name comes out this early.”
Miller nodded, a faint blush creeping onto his face at her proximity. He turned back to the guards, his voice booming. “How long am I supposed to look at these disgusting people? Get them moving!”
The knights began dragging them out of the courtyard. Maria, realizing her life was crumbling, began to roar with desperation.
“You! Miller! Are you really going to do this? You promised your dying uncle on his deathbed that you would take care of me and Alan! Think of Alan!”
Miller stopped in his tracks. His fists clenched at his sides as the words of his to his uncle on the battlefield rang in his ears: Don’t worry, Uncle. I will take care of them to the best of my abilities. Rest easy.
He stood frozen, the guilt threatening to swallow his resolve. Francesca stepped in, patting his back to bring him out of the daze.
“Support me properly,” she said with a teasing smile, “or do you want your disabled wife to fall?”
Miller’s grip tightened, holding her steady. “He did, Miss Maria!” Francesca yelled back. “You aren't wrong about that!”
Miller looked at Francesca, his melancholy smile turning sober as he picked her up to walk toward Maria. He looked down at the woman on the floor.
“The promise was to take care of you to the best of his abilities,” Francesca said for him, her eyes flashing with a smirk. Miller finished the thought, his voice firm. “And forgiving a crime like this is beyond my abilities. My promise to my uncle is fulfilled.”
Maria stared, stunned. Her hair was a matted mess and her expensive clothes were torn from the struggle; she looked like a madwoman. Suddenly, she lunged forward, clawing at the air like an animal, but the paladins caught her easily.
“It’s you! You bitch! You ruined everything!” she screamed as they dragged her away. “You will regret this!”
“Don’t worry about your son, Miss Maria!” Francesca called out as the voices faded into the distance. “We will take very good care of him!”
“That’s enough fun for one day,” Miller said, shifting his hold on her as he carried her back into the quiet interior of the chapel. He set her down gently in one of the wooden chairs. “Tell me... what would you have done if I hadn't found the children sneaking away with those ledgers?”
Francesca smoothed her skirts, a playful smile on her lips. “You chasing after the children was purely a stroke of luck. I asked you to check the servants' quarters because you would have noticed a specific receipt for bulk food purchases. It was addressed to that abandoned house where the children were being held.”
“I see. So I would have found them eventually just by following the paper trail,” Miller nodded, impressed. He was about to ask exactly how she had spotted such a minor detail among the household chaos, but he was interrupted by the arrival of the priests.
The men fell to their knees in unison, their heads touching the cold stone floor in a gesture of profound gratitude and crushing guilt.
“We are ready for whatever punishment you deem fit, Your Lordship, Your Ladyship!” Roland’s voice cracked with emotion. “Even though we only wished to protect the children, it was a grave sin to remain silent about such crimes!”
“It’s up to you, Miller,” Francesca said, leaning back in her chair and watching him with a curious smirk. “Are you going to report this to the Northern Central Church? They would certainly provide an... appropriate punishment for such a scandal.”
Miller’s expression turned stern. He looked down at the kneeling men, the weight of his responsibility as Lord visible in his stance. “As your Lord, I must hold you responsible. Our territory and our people have suffered from a lack of funds for a long time, yet you acted as accomplices in this embezzlement.”
The priests lowered their heads further, trembling with self-disgust.
“However,” Miller continued, his voice echoing in the rafters, “I will not be filing an official complaint with the Northern Central Church. You will not be rotting in some distant dungeon. You will redeem your sins here, in the Ironwood Mountains! From this day forward, you are to swear lifetime servitude to the Ironwood Viscounty. You will work for the betterment of the people you helped deprive!”
The priests looked up in disbelief, tears welling in their eyes at the mercy they hadn't expected.
“WE SHALL ACCEPT THIS SENTENCE!” they cried out in unison, their voices filled with newfound resolve.
Miller turned back to Francesca and scooped her up again. “Let’s go home,” he said, his voice softening into a tease. “You must be exhausted. After all, you don’t like waking up early. Lazing around suits you much better, doesn't it?”
Francesca’s face flushed as she began to rain light, embarrassed punches against his chest. “H—How do you know that?! Why are you trying to embarrass me?”
Then, the realization struck her. She looked up at the clear blue mountain sky and yelled, “Stella! I trusted you!”
Miller’s laughter followed them as he carried his wife down the stone stairs, leaving the shadows of the chapel behind for the bright future of the Ironwood home.