"Look at this slag! She's sleeping! The almighty is here! Why is she sleeping?!" The manservant then turned towards his companions as he continued his drunk-screaming.
Even if he shouted with all his might, his voice wouldn't be heard by the residents of the building. The room was far too detached for it to gather any attention. It also meant that, no matter how loud Ilya's cries for help would be, not a single soul would find their way to save her.
Tired of his companion's complaints, the coachman approached the young lady and lightly stomped on her leg.
"Hey, you, wake up! You're only pretending to sleep, aren't you? Come on!"
To his disappointment, Ilya didn't budge. He clicked his tongue and sput on the ground. The bottle in the coachman's hand slipped from his grip. It fell and shattered on the stone floor, spilling the sips of alcohol that had yet to reach the man's bulging stomach.
While the coachman and the manservant kept on grumbling, the soldier simply watched them. He didn't take a step inside the lady's bedroom. His reason? He was too intoxicated to do anything but look at his companions.
"Oy, you good-for-nothing, the ever handsome servant is here! I will give you anything you want!" The manservant said as he opened his arms, twirling around at the same time.
The act made him all the more nauseous. He stopped turning and bent his upper torso, looking as if he was about to vomit.
"What the deuce do you think you're doing?! Ugh, you're disgusting!" The coachman uttered in horror as he backed away from the servant.
Not too long after that, the manservant finally spewed out whatever he had eaten the day before. The stench of putrid digestive juices and alcohol enveloped the entire room. A dumpster would be better fit to be a room for relaxation rather than what became of Ilya's bedroom.
In the meanwhile, the coachman's companions swallowed their repulsions as they did their best to stay away. They couldn't bear the sight of the vomit that pooled on the ground and seeped into the uneven crevices.
For several seconds, nothing but the wretched groaning of a man was heard. The servant soon ceased from vomiting, wiping his mouth with his sleeve thereafter.
"Ugh, I feel even more sick. I should head back. The head butler will surely scold me if I get a headache."
Struggling to find his balance, the servant exited Ilya's chamber and took his companions with him. They left the room fouler than what it had been for the week.
Once the men were out of the basement, silence returned. It lasted for a good quarter of an hour before Ilya's sigh softly echoed within the tiny space.
Ilya wasn't a heavy sleeper, so the moment that the door to her bedroom was opened, she had woken up. Though she chose to keep her eyes closed. She figured that her visitors would leave if she remained unresponsive. Clearly, it worked in her favour. What she wasn't expecting was the foul souvenir that the men left in her refuge.
Still and all, not a word of complaint came out of Ilya's mouth. She just stood up and went out of her room to procure a rag from the supplies. It didn't take long before she found a rag as big as a blanket. She quickly went back to her room, taking the rag with her.
Just as she sat back on her bed, she started to divide the rags with her bare hands. She struggled quite a bit since she was unable to summon enough strength. Right then, her eyes caught the shards of glass spread out on the ground. She picked up the largest piece she could reach and used it to cut up the rag. Once she had eight smaller sheets, she folded each of them twice.
Ilya put the first sheet on the pool of retch and let the cloth absorb it. After the rag was fully soaked, Ilya stood up again and fetched the empty bucket on the other side of her bed. She put it down and placed the soaked rag inside.
She repeated the very same pattern six more times. She proceeded to use the last two sheets to wipe the rest of the floor clean. Swiping the pieces of the glass bottle was the easiest out of all that she had to do.
In due time, she finished tidying up her room. Ilya didn't break a single sweat. It might be because of how cold the early morning was, but her body wasn't trembling at all from the weather. The growing pain on her body urged her to. All of a sudden, Ilya felt a stinging ache on her right shoulder. She massaged it to lessen the pain, yet it hardly did anything.
Ilya simply sighed. The only choice for her was to bear whatever discomfort came her way. She couldn't just ask a stash of medicine from the duchy's medic. With another sigh, Ilya picked up the bucket filled with sullied rag, and again, went outside of her room.
Before she knew it, the fresh air within the courtyard was embracing her body. Even though she wanted to hurry in fear of being seen, llya decided to bathe in the soothing sensation for a few seconds.
Once she was satisfied, she went on her way to the well located behind the building. There were two wells reserved for the workers. One was a couple of meters away from the back exit of the building. The other rarely used well was inside the forest. It would take five minutes to reach it on foot.
Ilya didn't mind the short stroll. It was the best time for her to unwind with freedom in her hands. In a moment when there was barely any moonlight to pave her path, Ilya didn't fear the darkness. If she ought to fear something, it would be the gnawing feeling rising from the pit of her stomach.
Her naked feet combing through the grasses, her skin being caressed by the gentle wind, and the calming scent of the leaves and the earth permeating her nose, there were a lot of sensations that Ilya focused on rather than foreboding. The vigour in her eyes returned. It was as if her aura was glowing with happiness, making her look as if she became the moon.
The young lady hummed all the while she was walking. Taking every bit of time she could prior to reaching her destination.
The second that she arrived, Ilya put down the bucket and leaned over the stone well. A mellow groan then escaped her lips.
'There's no water. It's not yet the dry season.'
As she had seen, the well was empty -- a situation that was unheard of in that time of the year. The well in the forest and the one near the building was connected. If the well in the forest was empty, it would be the same for the other. However, there were several barrels of water in the kitchen, meaning that the main source wasn't barren.
If only Ilya had brought a lamp or a candle, she would have noticed that the hole at the bottom of the well was sealed off.
Unable to go on with washing the rags, Ilya sat on the ground and leaned her back on the well's wall of stones. She closed her eyes and sighed, exhaustion slowly catching up to her.
Right then, she heard the sound of dry leaves being repeatedly stepped on. It was like something, or rather, someone was taking a stroll in the forest. She fell silent as she focused on the reverberations.
'Hmm, at the least, those are the footsteps of a human, two of them.'
No sooner than a minute, Ilya hearkened a familiar voice.
"What in the world are you talking about, Countess So--"
"It's Duchess to you, my dear sister, Countess Orelia Hamlin."
"Duchess Sorsiana Gertrude, what in the world did you just tell me? What if someone discovers that it was your plan from the very beginning?!"
"You won't tell anyone, Yes? Besides, my husband played a big role in it. Forcing that wretched Hevelia to kill herself was the safest way to get rid of her."