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Chapter 05
“Are we really allowed to do this?”
“What do you mean?”
Winston’s attendant—no, actually Pell, who was pretending to be a fellow attendant—looked up at the youthful squire beside him who asked the question.
As he moved, a glimpse of the uniform hidden beneath his black cloak was revealed.
A deep navy uniform, symbolizing the northern night sky, embroidered with a silver wolf. It was the signature uniform of the Silvano Knights, led by Killian.
“Winston Hilton, I mean. Isn’t he aligned with the Empress Dowager? Are we really allowed to treat him like this? What if something happens…?”
“Hmph. Who cares? They were the ones who made the first move. They won’t have the slightest clue that our lord is entering the palace looking like that.”
Pell snorted dismissively at the young trainee knight’s concerns.
There was a lot to explain if he wanted to justify why their lord, Grand Duke Heverus, was disguised as Winston Hilton.
Where to begin?
Yes, to start with, today’s banquet was officially a celebration hosted by the imperial family in honor of the Grand Duke’s victory against Kashar, the long-standing thorn in the Empire’s side.
But that was only the official excuse. The real reason was quite different.
The Empress Dowager had secretly issued an order to prevent Killian from entering the palace.
“But why would Her Majesty want to stop him from entering? Isn’t she the one who pushed for this banquet in the first place?”
“Well, you see, Fey…”
Pell, throwing an arm around Fey’s shoulder, looked around cautiously before lowering his voice.
“It’s because the Empress Dowager plans to put a bell on our lord today.”
“A bell…? What do you mean?”
“Surveillance, kid. Surveillance. I think she wants to tie him down—and I suspect tonight’s banquet is where she’ll announce an engagement between our lord and some lady from her faction.”
“What?!”
“Shhh! Keep your voice down!”
Pell quickly covered Fey’s mouth, afraid that Isis and Litricia, who were walking ahead, might overhear them.
“All her spies she’s sent to the north ended up dead, so now she’s trying a different approach.”
“What should we do then? If someone from the Dowager’s side really becomes the Grand Duchess…”
“Don’t worry. That’s what we’re trying to prevent, right?”
“But what if he gets found out at the palace gates?”
“Relax. That’s what the vice-captain is for.”
Pell jerked his chin in the direction of two people ahead.
One was Killian. The other was Mark Davis, vice-captain of the Silvano Knights, cloaked just like Killian.
A gust of wind swept Mark’s robe aside for a moment, revealing his distinct silver hair before it was hidden again.
Mark was disguised as Killian in case anything went wrong.
“Once we reach the gates, the vice-captain will draw attention to himself.”
That way, all eyes in the palace would be on Mark, allowing Killian to slip through inspection using Winston’s invitation.
Since Winston was affiliated with the Dowager, the guards wouldn’t scrutinize his pass too much. It was a simple plan.
“Okay, but what happens once we’re inside? What’s next?”
“What’s next? …Don’t know. Our lord probably has something in mind.”
“Huh?”
Fey’s face darkened at Pell’s overly confident yet unhelpful answer. He then pointed toward Killian.
“I mean her.”
More specifically, Litricia, who was riding the same horse as Killian.
But before Fey could speak, Isis, who was seated tightly next to Mark, began to grumble.
“Do we really have to go like this? Isn’t it weird for two grown men to ride a horse together?”
“You were the one who insisted on riding with me.”
“Well, I didn’t know it would be this cramped…”
“If you don’t like it, you’re welcome to take the side path back. I won’t stop you.”
“Hmph. Well, now that I think about it, it’s not that uncomfortable.”
At Killian’s dismissive reply, Isis quickly fell silent.
Watching the scene unfold, Fey shook his chubby-cheeked face in disbelief.
Then, regaining focus, he asked another question.
“The woman sitting in front of the lord—judging by the crest on the carriage earlier, she must be Lady Esta, right? So… was she part of the plan too?”
“Hm?”
“Otherwise, why would the lord share a horse with her? He never shows interest in anyone outside his territory.”
“Well… something like that, I guess?”
Under Fey’s piercing gaze, Pell trailed off awkwardly.
He recalled a conversation he had with Killian just before they set off.
“But, my lord, why choose Winston Hilton? There are others who would’ve been easier to impersonate. Cleaning up afterward will be a hassle.”
“He’s scheduled to pass by the road near the Esta estate on his way to the palace.”
“What? What’s that got to do with this?”
“It just does.”
“…Huh?”
“…He never gave me a real answer after that.”
“What? Did you say something?”
“Huh? No, I didn’t say anything.”
“You definitely did. Do you think I’m an idiot?”
“Oh, come on. I said nothing. Fey, you’re too young to be mishearing things already.”
‘Ugh, whatever. I’m sure it’s all part of the plan.’
Pell shook his head vigorously, his hair flopping around noisily.
“In any case, have you ever seen one of the lord’s strategies fail on the battlefield?”
“No, never.”
“Exactly. So quit worrying, little squire.”
Seeing the palace nearing in the distance, Pell grinned mischievously.
“Just get ready to enjoy the show at the banquet.”
***
“We’re here.”
Killian—still posing as Winston—loosened the reins as they approached the palace gates.
Dark storm clouds had gathered above, dimming the surroundings even before the sun had fully set.
And it looked like they weren’t the only ones whose carriage got stuck.
In a rush, nobles had abandoned their carriages and were on horseback, creating chaos at the palace gate.
Because of the confusion, guards held torches to identify guests.
One soldier approached, reeking of burnt wood.
In a bored, mechanical voice, he repeated the same line he’d probably said dozens of times:
“May I see your invitation and palace pass?”
“Here.”
“Yes… verified… ah! You’re from the Hilton family?”
The soldier’s half-lidded eyes sprang open like torches when he saw Killian’s invitation.
Without further checks, he quickly removed the wooden barrier blocking the path.
“Right this way.”
This special path was designated for those connected to the Empress Dowager.
But just as Killian’s horse, with Litricia in tow, was about to enter, another soldier appeared—possibly just having switched shifts.
“Huh? Why are you back already? Didn’t we just switch?”
“You didn’t hear yet?”
“Hear what?”
“There’s an order to block the Grand Duke from attending the banquet.”
“What? How are grunts like us supposed to stop him?”
Believing Killian to be Winston, the two soldiers began to talk carelessly.
“It’s just what I heard. If he shows up, we’re supposed to guide him to the west palace and stall him. Make sure he misses the banquet.”
“Got it… that’s doable.”
“Oh, and take this portrait.”
The soldier passed over a portrait of Killian, causing the other guard to frown.
The picture was of a child, no older than six or seven—definitely not a grown man.
“You joking? How are we supposed to recognize him with this? We need a current portrait.”
“There is none. The Grand Duke has never taken off his helmet, even in battle. No one outside the north knows his face.”
Still, the soldier added, with silver hair and blue eyes, there’s only one man in the Empire like that—it shouldn’t be too hard to spot him.
He ran off to repeat the warning to others, unaware the man he was describing was right behind him.
“Hmph.”
Killian narrowed his eyes as he listened in with an expressionless face.
When was that portrait drawn? Right before he was exiled from the palace?
The memory twisted his lips into a cold smile.
The child in the portrait looked far too cheerful. It made his stomach churn.
“Once this is over, I’m destroying that portrait.”
Turning away from the painting with a scowl, Killian glanced down.
Litricia’s round head was nestled gently against his chest.
Seeing her pink eyes weren’t watching him, he subtly tilted his head back.
He gave a small nod toward Mark in the back, who responded by adjusting his robe.
Moments later, guards started to react to Mark’s presence.
Everything was going according to plan.
“Might end quicker than expected.”
Killian calmly urged his horse forward, slipping through the bustling palace gate.
But that peace didn’t last long.
“…Huh?”
With Litricia’s confused voice, Killian stiffened.
Drip.
A drop of water fell.
But no—it wasn’t water.
A bright red drop of blood had just landed on the back of his hand.
