Disparate Realities
Six months have passed since Duke left for war. I haven't received any letters from him, or perhaps he has been sending letters, but they haven't reached me. I'm uncertain. However, I've observed the duchess acting furtive whenever our paths cross.
While lost in my thoughts, a maid interrupted, "Madam, the people have come to meet you."
"What is it? Is there any issue?" I inquired.
"I'm not sure, madam, but they seem very worried," the maid replied.
Worried? For what reason? I wandered and walked toward the mansion's hall, where I found several people crowding at the entrance, attempting to enter while the guards struggled to stop them.
"What is it? What is the issue?" I asked as I ran outside.
"Duchess, what kind of rule is this? If we had known that bringing you to our state would leave us hungry, we would have done our best to stop you," the people shouted in anger.