Surviving As The Villainess's Attendant

A week had passed since the Vault incident.

The underground vault—sealed for generations, only allowed to enter with permission—had been breached. Not by an enemy invasion, nor a natural disaster, but by two individuals from within the Draken household itself.

Alice Draken and her personal servant, Julies Evans.

Duke Draken sat at the head of the long table, rubbing his temples as the final voices of the meeting faded into silence.

"I'm really starting to get a headache because of all this…" he muttered under his breath.

The meeting had lasted hours. Everyone with authority or blood in the Draken estate had been summoned. Elders. Vassals. Advisors. Even a few of the outer-branch kin.

...And no one is happy with this news.

The vault's security breach had shaken the foundation of the family's authority. For generations, the Draken name stood for discipline, legacy, and order. And now, two of their own had made a mockery of that.

The Duke's eyes dropped to the paper before him—its contents stamped with the family crest, the ink still fresh.

The final decision.

He read it again, as if hoping the words might somehow change.

---

[The actions committed by Julies Evans, servant of the Draken family, are deemed unforgivable.

He is to be imprisoned within the estate prison until further notice.]

[Alice Draken, while of noble blood, acted without the family's approval and broke several house codes.

She is to be confined within the estate. No travel or outside contact until the order is lifted.]

---

The Duke leaned back in his chair.

Julies—imprisoned.

His own daughter—confined.

He exhaled slowly, eyes closing for a moment.

Julies Evans... loyal to a fault, reckless beyond measure. That damn servant had always been a thorn in the family's side—unpredictable, wild, and completely devoted to Alice.

... But mostly because he's an outsider, not from north.

That's why elders doesn't like him at all.

And Alice…

He didn't know whether to be furious or proud.

What she had done—slaying the ancient guardian, retrieving Valkrath—was something no other Draken had dared to attempt. But she had done it without approval, without preparation, and worst of all… with that lunatic of a servant.

The elders didn't see the victory.

They only saw the disobedience.

The threat.

The Duke took a long sip of cold water, trying to soothe the dull throb pounding behind his eyes.

Across from him, his advisor and also head butler of house, Hans, stood stiffly, watching him with concern.

"It seems, my lord, that you're not pleased with how the meeting ended."

The Duke lowered the glass, exhaling through his nose.

"How could I be?" he muttered. "Not only was the winner of the martial arts tournament treated like a criminal... but Alice—my daughter—was innocent. And yet, we speak of punishing her."

He leaned back in his chair, the old wood creaking slightly beneath his weight. His eyes, shadowed with fatigue, stared into the distance.

"The guardian deity protected Vault for generations. That history can't be denied. But that doesn't excuse what happened. It attacked her. A child of the Draken line." He clenched his jaw. "And now that she's overcome that ordeal, not a word of praise. Not even a thank-you."

The advisor hesitated before responding, his voice cautious.

"With all due respect, my lord, the guardian deity of the ducal family was slain. The artifact it protected was used without formal approval. If we allow this without consequence, it sets a dangerous precedent."

The Duke's gaze narrowed.

"So your suggestion is to punish her? To make an example?"

The advisor lowered his eyes.

"If we do nothing... chaos may follow. Even if it's the lady of the house, order must be preserved."

The Duke leaned forward, his tone sharp.

"Is this Prince Elric's idea?"

The advisor flinched. "He... he mentioned concerns about discipline."

"How dare you bring up punishment in front of me? Of her?" The Duke's voice dropped to a whisper, but the fury in it was unmistakable. "You should be ashamed."

There was a long pause.

The advisor swallowed. "Even so, an example is necessary."

"Then what about the Westerner?" the Duke snapped. "The so-called servant who helped kill the guardian? Do we cast him out too?"

Silence.

The Duke leaned back again, the fire in his eyes dimming slightly. He wasn't angry just at them—he was angry at what they represented. The old world clinging to itself, even as the future knocked on its door.

He thought of Alice. Of the look in her eyes when they told her she'd be investigated, not praised.

"What a disappointment," she had said, her voice steady despite the betrayal. "Do you not understand the meaning of that sword?"

There had been no tears. No tantrum. Just... cold disappointment.

Even now, the memory tugged at his chest.

A faint smile crept onto his lips, tired and wistful.

She was right.

That sword wasn't just an artifact. It wasn't just a weapon. It was a symbol.

A single blade that once united the North—when monsters tore through the wildlands, when demons crept in from the mountains, when traitors in noble robes feasted on the blood of the weak.

Valkrath.

The first Draken's sword.

"A legacy that demanded more than titles or rules—it demanded conviction."

The Duke stared out the window, the mountains looming in the distance like silent sentinels.

Hans remained silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he slowly stepped forward, lowering his voice.

"…And yet, the elders see only risk. They fear the past repeating itself."

The Duke didn't turn. "They fear change, Hans. That's all this is. Fear dressed up in tradition."

"Tradition," Hans said carefully, "is what has kept this house strong."

"Conviction kept this house strong," the Duke snapped, louder now. "Don't twist history to justify cowardice. My ancestor didn't build this legacy by waiting for council meetings to end."

Hans bowed his head, acknowledging the rebuke. But he didn't retreat. "Even so, she is young. Impulsive. And Julies—he has no standing in this house. It is not wrong to be wary of what that combination may bring."

The Duke finally looked at him.

There was steel in the old man's eyes now, the weariness pushed aside by something colder.

"You forget, Hans... I was once just as reckless."

Hans didn't speak.

"I snuck into the eastern barracks to steal my first sword. I challenged three elder knights to a duel in the same week. I nearly lost a finger trying to ride a wyvern before I was even thirteen. You remember."

"I remember," Hans said. "But you were the heir. You could afford to be reckless."

"And Alice is not?"

"She is. But the stakes have changed."

The Duke's jaw tightened.

Hans continued, voice quieter now. "She didn't just trespass. She woke something that had been sleeping for centuries. The Vault was sacred, my lord. You know what they say—if Valkrath is drawn by unworthy hands, the North will suffer again."

"And who decides who is worthy?" the Duke asked flatly. "The same people who lock away power and pretend it keeps peace? Look where that's brought us. Monsters at the borders. Bandits wearing noble sigils. Demons whispering in merchant halls."

He shook his head slowly.

"She drew Valkrath, Hans. And it answered."

Hans looked troubled. "And Julies Evans?"

The Duke's mouth twisted into a grim line.

"He's a fool," he said. "But I'll be damned if I deny his loyalty. The boy would let himself be executed with a smile if it meant keeping her safe. I've never met a more dangerous servant."

Hans nodded slowly. "He was the one who struck the killing blow, wasn't he?"

"Yes."

"And he did it to protect her?"

"Yes."

"Then what do we do with someone like that?"

The Duke didn't respond for a long time.

Then, softly, he said, "We watch him. We test him. And if he falters… I will be the one to end him."

Hans bowed his head. "Understood."

The Duke let out a slow breath.

"…But if he doesn't falter. If he proves himself…"

"You would trust him?"

"I would protect him."

Hans blinked.

The Duke turned again toward the window. The mountains stood still under the overcast sky. Snow had begun to fall, slowly, gently—like the hush before a storm.

"Send a letter to the estate warden," the Duke said quietly. "Julies is not to be harmed. Keep him locked, yes. But feed him well. Let no blade touch him unless it's by my order."

"And Lady Alice?"

The Duke closed his eyes for a moment.

"…Let her be angry. Let her sulk. That girl needs no cage. Her mind is already ten steps ahead of them all."

"Very well," Hans said with a bow. "Shall I prepare the family's response to the court?"

"Leave that to me," the Duke muttered. "If Prince Elric wants discipline, I'll show him Draken discipline."

Hans's brow furrowed. "That sounds… ominous."

The Duke gave a tired chuckle.

"Good."

Then he rose from his chair and stepped away from the table.

Outside, the snow fell heavier now.

And far beneath the mountain stone, in the prison's cold silence—Julies Evans sat in his cell, staring at the steel bars with unreadable eyes.

He hadn't said a word since his arrest.

Not one.

But the guards whispered to each other when they thought no one was listening.

About how, even chained, the Westerner had smiled.

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Author Note:

Thank you for reading the chapter. I hope you continue to do read more in future.

It's my second novel so if there's any kind of mistakes you find in the novel related to grammar please tell me and I'll edit it as soon as possible.