🔊 TTS Settings
chapter 64
After the wedding, everyone’s eyes on the Northern Grand Duke and Duchess changed just a little.
For weeks, Cherilot was force-fed health tonics, and even when she stepped outside, she was met with dozens of strange, expectant gazes. Especially when she walked among the knights who were busy stockpiling firewood and smoked meat for winter.
Eventually, Cherilot escaped for a walk and hid alone in a blind spot of the training grounds.
It was a pitiful sight for a Grand Duchess, but she had no choice.
Cherilot scratched her head roughly.
“Damn it…”
These people were all absolutely convinced she and Eonian would have a child.
Of course they’d think that—they don’t know it’s a contract marriage. But our wedding night didn’t even have a romantic atmosphere!
Sure, they shared a bed, but the room was so spacious she could barely tell if he was even lying beside her.
With a sigh, Cherilot peeked through the shrubbery at the outdoor training yard.
Why is that guy at the training grounds all day long? He’s making the misunderstanding worse.
Cecil had told her that Eonian had been sparring often with Liam or Rodier lately. She didn’t know the reason, but apparently he’d been running drills all day too.
It all led to one simple conclusion: he was building stamina.
If she were a normal wife, she should be happy about it…
Unfortunately, Cherilot was the kind of girl who would steal another person’s muscles if she could.
His body was already unfairly perfect—now it’s going to get even more balanced? Seriously?
“No, this won’t do.”
It was great that he was getting stronger, but she needed to interrupt him.
Might as well erase the misunderstanding while she was at it.
“I should go over there and say some—”
“What are you doing here, Your Grace?”
“……!”
Startled by Falcon’s sudden voice, her tail puffed up like a blown dandelion.
“Ah—my apologies. You were sitting on the ground, so I thought you might be sick—”
“Why would I be sick? What did I do?”
“……”
Ren immediately lost his words. When Cherilot narrowed her eyes, he timidly pointed behind her.
“His Grace is coming. I’ll take my leave.”
Cherilot spun around—and sure enough, Eonian was beaming when he spotted her.
It wasn’t a bad smile.
Feeling a little better, Cherilot jerked her chin toward the knights behind him.
“Did you know what they all think when they see you working out?”
“Hm? Suddenly? Ah—don’t worry about it.”
Eonian wiped sweat with a towel and shrugged.
“What’s wrong with a loving couple? You’ve seen the Fraser Grand Duke and Duchess. We’re better than those two.”
“That’s… an extreme example.”
Cherilot, who knew more than anyone how twisted that couple’s love was, rubbed her cheek and exhaled. She sat down on the nearby steps.
Whatever. We don’t even need a real heir. Why am I stressing about this?
“Fine. Then tell me—why are you suddenly training this hard?”
“Hm…”
The playful tone disappeared from Eonian’s voice.
“After meeting so many high-ranking mages, I realized something.”
He wiped his silver blade, using it as a mirror to see his dirt-covered face.
“I have to be able to protect you under any circumstance. Even without divine power. Even if dozens of mages surround us. Even if a threat appears that even you can’t handle.”
Cherilot’s deep green eyes sank.
“…Then who’s going to protect you?”
“You’re asking who guards me?”
Maybe this was an extension of when he dealt with the professors and mages.
But nothing can be used infinitely.
She couldn’t let him be a tool—couldn’t let him be sacrificed for her, no matter how willingly he followed her.
Cherilot took a deep breath, staring at his thick black hair.
“And if you break?”
“Hm?”
“Then what do I do?”
Cherilot laughed bitterly.
“I hate admitting it, but we’re very alike.”
“……”
“Should I assume it’s because you’re also from a ruling house?”
Eonian’s lips moved silently.
After a moment of silence, he forced a playful grin.
“If you want to think that, I’m honored.”
He sheathed his sword and added jokingly:
“And I’m training so I’m ready when I duel your father. He’s incredibly strong.”
“What nonsense. My dad wouldn’t draw a sword just to ‘test’ you. If anything, your father is more likely to challenge me instead.”
“…ha.”
Eonian let out a weak laugh.
At the mention of the Grand Duke of Bascaglia, Cherilot noticed how his shoulders dropped ever so slightly.
Right… his father didn’t come to the wedding.
They hadn’t invited Saint Hermione on purpose—after all, she likely betrayed the Bascaglia family.
But the Grand Duke of Bascaglia… Cherilot had wanted to meet him.
Not just because cooperating with him meant massive profit.
He had also been one of the kind adults who played with her when she was young, and she wanted to greet him properly—as his daughter-in-law, and as a business partner.
Cherilot glanced at Eonian.
And at that exact moment—
“…I miss my father.”
Eonian spoke suddenly.
“Can I go see him?”
“Alone?”
“I could go alone, but if someone comes with me, I’d prefer Ren.”
“…Is this something that has to be done in secret?”
Eonian nodded.
So you’re not just visiting—you plan to smuggle him out under the Pope’s nose.
Cherilot met his determined gaze and took his hand.
“Then I’m coming too.”
“What about the North?”
Cherilot gestured toward the busy knights and officials who were preparing for winter all on their own.
“We’ve nearly finished fuel and food storage. The hot springs expansion is complete.”
“And the rifts?”
“The support mages have arrived, so the knights will handle them. And once winter hits, monsters can barely move. It’s too harsh—no invader will come.”
She had already prepared everything.
The North would be safer this winter than ever before—even if she left briefly.
“And tell me—when the North becomes a natural fortress, where will the East attack first?”
“…the South.”
“Exactly. Odelia will go after your family before anything else. So me going with you is also a way to block the East.”
Eonian nodded, convinced.
Cherilot continued:
“The East and the Pope will definitely be watching our movements. So we need a valid reason to leave…”
“And you’ll be that excuse.”
Cherilot smiled confidently.
“Of course. We’re newlyweds.”
★
Under the pretense of a honeymoon, Cherilot and Eonian left the North.
Their true destination: the South.
The Central region was only a brief stop to meet the Pope,
but the South was where the Grand Duke of Bascaglia was located—and where Aquila, the senior who vanished after the wedding, was rumored to be.
Eonian intended to secure his father’s safety.
Cherilot intended to track Aquila’s trail and help him.
“Not a real honeymoon, right?”
“How did you know?”
“I saw the two of you whispering like conspirators.”
Clemang, after finishing his administrative report, pressed his forehead.
“Well, if you only take the escort knights, it’s not the worst idea…
But I’m worried you’ll do nothing but work over there too.”
“You were begging me to hire more administrators before.”
“And now that we have them, it’s fine.”
Cherilot dumped even more paperwork on him and walked downstairs, using his scream as background music.
“Cecil, did you pack the accessory set?”
“Yes, Your Grace. It’s under the carriage.”
“…Good.”
She confirmed that even the ‘gift’ for the Pope was packed, and climbed into the carriage.
Eonian sat across from her, staring at the Grand Duke’s castle growing smaller in the distance.
His fingertips trembled slightly.
“Nervous about going home after so long?”
“…Yeah.”
Cherilot tilted her head and whispered softly:
“It will be fine.”
For several days they rode south,
and thanks to the newly repaired roads, they reached the Central capital quickly.
After unloading luggage at a luxury inn, Cherilot headed to the Great Temple to keep her promise with the Pope.
“His Holiness awaits in the Grand Hall. You may enter immediately.”
They treated her like an honored guest this time.
Last time they complained about whether I had an appointment or not.
Cherilot glanced at the velvet box the knight was carrying as she entered through the marble doors.
And finally—
“…I greet the First Servant of the Lord, Protector of Humanity.”
The Pope sat upon the highest seat.
Cherilot greeted him with a modest bow, scanning the room quickly.
No Archbishop Peliceri.
Instead, there were other cardinals and many nobles.
Meaning—these were the true supporters of the Pope.
Then Cherilot noticed a woman whose presence felt out of place.
A woman with white, curly hair under a veil.
Saint Hermione?
The saint who had been delivering divine revelations these past years was sitting right beside the Pope.
Disgusting. He’s openly treating her like a mistress.
The funny thing was this:
people were far more furious at Hermione for divorcing the Grand Duke and returning as a saint than at the Pope for staying silent.
To Cherilot, both were equally pathetic.
She lowered her gaze to avoid looking at the pair and took the velvet box from her escort.
“You all know why I’ve come.”
“Of course, Grand Duchess Chartreuse.”
The Pope rose and walked toward her.
“I’ve been very eager to see the gift you prepared for the Lady of Bascaglia.”
Cherilot smiled pleasantly.
There were many people watching, but she didn’t care.
The Central Church was a force she needed to use briefly to strike back at the East.
And no noble here had a reputation greater than the rapidly recovering Chartreuse.
She opened the velvet box.
Inside lay diamond accessories crafted by the best artisans of the workshop district—
a bracelet, necklace, earrings—
glittering even in the dim hall.
But the true masterpiece was the crown:
a golden circlet encrusted with hundreds of diamonds, worth tens of billions at auction.
“Everyone knows diamonds are given only to the greatest on this continent.”
Wearing gloves, Cherilot lifted the crown high and aligned the cross and centerpiece.
She took a quiet breath, then declared loudly:
“Chartreuse supports the child of Bascaglia as the future Emperor.”
Cherilot trusted her own judgment.
This was the perfect bait.
The perfect illusion to make the Pope lower his guard.
