Even though the water was colder than hot, Mathias still felt invigorated to finally be able to wash himself and remove some dirt from his skin and hair. It had been taken to a small empty room, not far from the cellar, and which was to be used surely as a reserve when there were too many shipments of bottles of wine. There, the undead servants had brought a sort of large wooden tub, serving as a makeshift bathtub, and filled it with water, along with a towel.

Sitting in this wooden tub, the water reaching up to his waist, Mathias had spent the last hour carefully rubbing his hair and the whole of his body. A small piece of soap provided had served to remove a little the smell of the damp dungeon that had permeated him over the days.

Once washed, Mathias got out of the water and shivering a little, quickly put the towel on him to dry himself. The door opened and an undead brought his clothes, which also looked like they had been stripped of the stench and dirt. The zombie put them on the small stool on the side.

_ "Uh ... thank you ..." said Mathias, even if the undead didn't seem to hear him and left immediately with the same slow and disjointed gait.

If one day Mathias had been told that he would have his washed clothes brought back by a living corpse ... he almost wanted to laugh at this situation, it was so surreal.

After finishing drying his hair and his body, Mathias got dressed, putting on his denim pants, his boots and mittens, his old-fashioned white shirt. Most importantly, he found a new garment made available for him: his black winter coat, which he believed to have lost after being captured by Dimitrescu and Heisenberg in the village. The cloth had been damaged a bit, but nothing too serious. With that, Mathias would be less cold during the nights in the cell, it was at least a little warm to win. Another gesture on the part of the countess, to thank him for his intervention during the council meeting? Perhaps, but with Dimitrescu, Mathias was not sure of anything and preferred not to have false hopes.

After this rather modest but more than welcome bath, Mathias found himself again in this large hall with its crystalline chandelier, his coat under his arm. The gates of the entrance to the castle were in sight, but well guarded by armed undead. And then, anyway, the village being still infested by lycans, the escape was impossible, unless he wanted to die brutally devoured by these degenerate creatures. Mathias preferred not even to think of the idea. He was safer here in this castle.

He decided to take advantage of the rest of the afternoon to be able to visit this immense castle a little more, which he had to recognize, had a very fascinating old charm. Mathias had always had this passion for the medieval and these castles. However, he remembered Lady Dimitrescu's words: the north tower was strictly off limits for him. Why? What could be in the north tower?

But suddenly, while he was thinking, Mathias thought he heard a noise, coming from behind a side door to the hall. Puzzled, he walked there, all the same cautiously, and ventured to half-open the door to take a look.

What he saw surprised him a lot.

In this medium-sized room, there was a veritable bazaar of goods of all possible and imaginable kinds ... food and drink, remedies, books, tools, metallic pieces, antiques, etc ... and in the middle of all this mess, was someone Mathias recognized, having met him before.

The Duke! It was him. Behind a large wooden table at the back of the room, busy counting a stack of silver coins, the blond merchant, still as tall and obese as the last time, was seated on a chair large and sturdy enough to be able to bear his weight that Mathias did not dare to imagine. The young man wondered how, with this enormous build, the Duke had managed to enter through this door much too small for him, and which was the only access to this room. It was completely inconsistent.

Hearing the door open, the Duke looked up from his silver coins, illuminated by the light of the candlesticks arranged to the right and left of him.

_ "Ha ha ! Mr. Derune. What a pleasant surprise. I am pleased to see that you are doing better since we last met." exclaimed the Duke with a friendly smile, and still with the same jovial air.

_ "Duke? But... what are you doing here?" Mathias asked, confused, approaching the table to talk to him.

_ "Business is business, as I told you." replied the obese merchant confidently.

_ "You mean... you are in business with Lady Dimitrescu?" Mathias then asked.

_"Eh yes." confirmed the Duke. "She's even one of my best clients. She knows I'm an honest trader, and regularly I manage to provide her with excellent quality wines, for a small fee of course. And in return for these services, she allows me to move freely in the valley without fear of attack from lycans and other creatures that roam."

A fair deal, thought Mathias. But however, one thing the Duke said twitched in his mind.

_ "And lately you haven't been sending a shipment of bottles of wine to Lady Dimitrescu?" Mathias asked, suspiciously.

The Duke looked at him like he'd just asked him the dumbest question possible, and it was possibly the case. The obese merchant, in no way offended, laughed even more.

_ "You suspect me of having sent this poisoned wine to Lady Dimitrescu? Oh, you hurt me, Mr. Derune. Come on, as a merchant worthy of the name, I have a reputation to maintain. And then, what profit would I get of such an action, apart from drawing the wrath of Matriarch Miranda on me?"

He was not wrong at all, Mathias had to admit that he has been not very clever on this point.

_ "I ... excuse me ... it was not very fair of me to judge you like this." said Mathias.

_ "Bah, it's nothing." The Duke replied, lighting a cigar. "I understand you. This attempted poisoning case is more than intriguing. But, did you know this was not the first attack on the Lords."

This merchant was decidedly well informed about what was happening in this isolated valley. It made him even more mysterious.

_ "Yes ..." Mathias breathed, lost in thought. "... during the assembly, I learned that this lady, Beneviento, and Lord Moreau had also suffered threats. It is only this asshole of Heisenberg who seems to suffer nothing, and frankly it's fishy."

_ "You speak more out of anger towards him than anything else." replied the Duke. "I will concede to you that Heisenberg is a hateful person, but admit that all the facts point him a little too easily as the ideal culprit. In my humble opinion, this matter is much more complicated than it seems ... and you, like Lady Dimitrescu, would have an important role to play in, I feel it ..."

Mathias felt a hint of mischief in the Duke's voice in those last words. But again, he was not wrong about Heisenberg's case. It all seemed too simple indeed. But in this case, Lady Dimitrescu should have noticed it too. She is no stupid, but perhaps her too much hatred for Heisenberg prevented her from recognizing this detail ...

While lost in his thoughts, Mathias took the opportunity to be here to take a quick peek into the Duke's merchandise, the latter looking in silence with attention, always on the lookout for a future purchase. In the merchandise, Mathias noticed, with amazement, a pile of music albums, and among them, albums of metal and rock bands of which Mathias was a fan ... Motörhead, Lordi, Powerwolf, Babymetal, Airbourne ... that is what were these albums doing in that stock?

_ "But ... how did you get these albums?" asked Mathias.

_ "A great magician never reveals the secrets of his tricks, Mr. Derune." the Duke replied maliciously. "And it's the same for a merchant. You have to know how to keep a scent of mystery, otherwise this world would be so boring, don't you agree?"

Obviously, thought Mathias to himself. The Duke liked to keep it a secret, especially when it came to him directly.

Suddenly, the door to the room opened, and Lady Dimitrescu entered. She was rather surprised to see Mathias here.

_ "Mathias? What are you doing here?" she asked, slightly annoyed. "The Duke has come here to discuss business with me. You have nothing to do here."

_ "Uh ... I ..." Mathias began to stammer awkwardly.

_ "Oh, don't hold it against him, dear countess." said the Duke kindly. "Mr. Derune had just come over to take a look at my stock. But apparently nothing seemed to convince him, and he was about to leave."

Mathias said nothing more and looked at the Duke, who discreetly gave him a smirk. Why help him like that and lie to the countess? Really, this merchant was anything but easy to understand. Lady Dimitrescu, for her part, did not seem really convinced by this explanation. But already having too much to do, she decided to pass the sponge on this little hassle without consequences, and motioned to Mathias to leave the room, which he did without arguing.

_ "Goodbye, Mr. Derune. Hope to see you again soon." said the Duke to the young man who was about to close the door, leaving the countess in private discussion with the merchant.

Once the young man left, Lady Dimitrescu sits on one of the chairs available in front of the makeshift office of the Duke.

_ "Very well. So, dear Lady Dimitrescu. What can I do for you?" he asked, crushing the rest of his cigar in an ashtray in front of him.

_ "What were you talking about with Mathias Derune before I arrived?" she asked sharply.

_ "I told you..."

_ "Don't lie to me, Duke!" she said firmly, interrupting him, and slapping her hand on the table. The merchant didn't even jumped of fear, expecting her to react like that.

He knew very well that the Countess was not fooled, and had no reason to lie to her.

_ "Well ... the poisoning attempt seems to make him think a lot ..." said the Duke. "It's almost like he's worried about you."

_ "Tsss, come on, this is ridiculous." Dimitrescu replied with disdain. "Why would he worry about me? He's just my prisoner ... and then, especially after what I did to him ..."

_ "But in that case, why would he stop you from drinking the poison?" asked the Duke, who got the point over again. "For his own survival? Hmmm, likely, but then why would he risk his own life by wanting to protect you from Heisenberg during the assembly? You have to know how to ask yourself the right questions to be able to get the right answers."

The Duke's analysis was very straightforward. But despite these words, Lady Dimitrescu did not seem ready to believe it. Sighing in disdain, she rose from her chair, crossing her arms and looking deeply troubled.

_ "But ... no ... that does not make sense." she insisted. "He's just a human. How could he care about someone like ... me?"

The Duke, relighting another cigar, gave a small chuckle between his round cheeks.

_ "Some people with a more open mind are able to see far beyond what their eyes can see." he said, still with the same point of mischief that made his character. "maybe he saw that part of humanity that you have in you, but that you desperately seek to hide, for fear of appearing weak in the eyes of others."

At the merchant's words, Lady Dimitrescu felt her fists and teeth clench.

_"I'm not weak!" she roared, turning around and slapping the flat of her hand roughly on the table, making her shake slightly. Again, the Duke didn't react and just smiled, seeing the doubt shining in the countess's eyes.

_ "I never said you were. I will not allow myself, dear countess. The proof: you have a heart ... you sincerely love your daughters and you care for them. And believe me: if a force can play at equal power with that of anger, it is indeed that of love."

Under Lady Dimitrescu's confused gaze, the Duke then took the silver coin from the top of one of the piles on the table, and held it between two of his sticky fingers, prominently.

_ "But the question is: Which side would you choose?" he said, like a magician posing a riddle. "Heads or Tails? The Yin or the Yang? Light or darkness? Love or anger? ... the choice is yours. After all: the customer is always right."

With those words, he flipped the coin in the air. Lady Dimitrescu watched it rise, then fall back on the table, perfectly balanced, not falling on either side, all under the Duke's amused gaze.

_ "There is something else ..." Lady Dimitrescu sighed, both hands resting on the table. "Mathias Derune also told me about a nightmare he had had. In this one, he saw there the place of ceremony, as well as ... his late mother ... and the dragon's coat of arms."

The Duke listened intently to the Countess, scratching his double chin thoughtfully.

_ "Hmmm, yes ..." he said. "I think I understand. It seems that the past has to resurface to finally meet its future. You get what that means, don't you?"

_ "Yes ... I do, alas ..." Lady Dimitrescu sighed again, this time more sadly.