TPWSM 36

Chapter 36

A few days had passed.

Sir Robard, the captain of my personal knight order, came to my office saying he had business.

“I greet the young duke.”

“Mm, Sir Robard. Have a seat.”

What could this be about, him wanting to meet me separately?

I had already increased the number of guards as he suggested—perhaps he was dissatisfied with that.

We sat facing each other across a cup of tea.

Normally cheerful, today Sir Robard’s shoulders drooped heavily.

“What’s wrong? Did something bad happen?”

“It’s… about His Grace the Grand Duke.”

“Mm.”

“He seems to have a great deal of dissatisfaction with the knights.”

He continued with a deeply troubled expression.

“For the past three days, he has been coming to the training grounds at dawn to observe drills. He spars with the knights one by one and then orders the training schedule to be rewritten.”

“…What? Sparring? Are you saying he’s been picking fights with the knights?”

“Yes. I don’t know why, but every time he faces them, it’s with the air of throwing down a gauntlet.”

Why on earth is that man…

Going around disciplining the knights?

Surely this isn’t because of me?

“He didn’t explain why?”

“He said, as your husband, he insists the young duke’s protection must be flawless.”

Ah… so it is because of me.

Seems our encounter at the memorial park really stuck with him.

“That must have been difficult for you. How did the duels go?”

“Well, um…”

Sir Robard scratched his head.

“I sparred with him myself. He’s knight-trained, so he’s fairly skilled.”

“Honestly, most of us lost. Only Sir Bartol, the vice-captain, fought him evenly. But… how can knights fight their lord’s husband at full force?”

Sir Robard rambled excuses, embarrassed.

I nearly dropped the teacup I’d just lifted.

Even with the vice-captain, a knight of over ten years, his skills were equal?

“I didn’t realize the Grand Duke was that good.”

“Some of our men were flustered and didn’t show their best… but still, it’s awkward having him interfere with our knightly matters.”

No wonder Robard is troubled.

A 21-year-old foreign prince, merely the lord’s spouse, barges in demanding duels—it must have seemed ridiculous.

Of course they obliged, but losing so easily would have bruised their pride.

“…And you said he ordered the training schedule to be redone?”

“Yes. He even drew up detailed guard protocols for both official duties and secret outings. But you already restructured the guard system two years ago, after that incident. Things have been fine since then.”

Two years ago… when I was stabbed.

Sir Robard barely avoided dismissal, and Mother replaced most of my personal knights.

It’s true we’ve had no problems since then.

“Do as he says.”

“Pardon?”

Robard blinked rapidly.

“If the Grand Duke tells you to, then do it. If I’m the master of this estate, then my husband is equally rightful as master.”

The circles beneath his eyes darkened.

But what choice does he have? It’s not an unreasonable demand, even if it stings.

“My apologies, young duke. I spoke out of turn.”

“The Grand Duke will soon appear at many official occasions. I’ll accompany him most of the time. You won’t just be protecting me, will you?”

“You’re absolutely right.”

“In matters of security or protocol, treat him as you would me. He’s not merely my husband—he’s also ruler of Dvorka.”

Though he claims it’s for my sake, what matters most to him is his own safety.

A prince sold as a hostage lives like a candle in the wind. Of course he’d be sensitive about danger.

I promised to safeguard him, so I must bear that responsibility.

After all, it’s entirely my fault he was dragged into this unwanted marriage.

“I will obey.”

“If you’ve no further objections, you may go.”

Sir Robard placed a hand over his chest, bowed, and left.

When the door closed, I thought: the Grand Duke is a diligent man indeed. He truly can’t stand sitting idle. Who would have guessed he’d turn the knight order upside down without me knowing?

It’s about time I started making use of him properly.

He agreed to let me use him freely, but whether he’ll truly perform well remains uncertain.

I’ll have to assign a treasurer as his tutor and gradually involve him in estate management.

Knock, knock.

The door opened, and Katarina entered.

“Lady Alisa, an important letter has arrived.”

“From whom?”

“Lord Joachim sent it in great haste.”

Joachim…

He was once the highest-ranking priest of Dvorka’s state religion, the Purana faith.

As the former Patriarch, he became a wanted fugitive after Dvorka’s fall. The colonial government cracked down on all Purana clergy.

I first met him one day on my way back from Levanteia. A group in white robes rushed out of the forest and knelt before my carriage.

Too cleanly dressed for beggars, too unarmed to be assassins.

Sir Robard wanted to cut them down as suspicious.

But I wanted to hear them out.

Turns out they were Purana priests in hiding. The elderly man in front was none other than the former Patriarch himself.

They begged to shelter in Blansk, having heard rumors that I didn’t persecute the Purana faith.

And at the time, I happened to need educated people. Schools had been built all over Blansk, but though children abounded, teachers were sorely lacking.

So Joachim and his priests began teaching in secret under assumed identities.

A profitable arrangement for me.

Because they were friendly toward me, the people of Blansk, though they disliked me, never rose up in protest.

But why would Joachim suddenly send me a letter now?

I quickly took out a knife and broke the seal.

**“To Lady Alisa, ruler of Blansk.

This is Joachim.

Though late, I offer heartfelt congratulations on your marriage to His Grace the Grand Duke David.

I hear a banquet will soon be held in his name. I wish to attend as representative of the Blansk school faculty, together with my priests, to formally present our respects.

I cannot but speak of my bond with the Grand Duke from twenty years ago.

I personally baptized him at the royal palace of Yorca on his first birthday.

I recall him as a lovely child, with radiant silver hair and violet eyes.

Therefore, I earnestly request a private audience with His Grace. There is something I must confirm directly.

If His Grace does not wish it, of course it may be declined.

The priests remain ever grateful for your kindness, Lady Alisa.

May the blessings of the Goddess Purana also be upon you.

—Joachim.”**

As expected of a former Patriarch, his handwriting was elegant and refined.

He must have frequently visited the royal palace in those days.

Royal infants, upon their first birthday, always received baptism from the Patriarch.

What exactly does he want to confirm with the Grand Duke?

Perhaps he wishes to verify whether the man he baptized truly is the same person.

Though Queen Elizaveta claims to be his foster mother, suspicion of imposture is only natural.

The colonial government propped up a little-known youngest prince—of course people might suspect they’d installed a fake puppet.

Still, one look at him should dispel doubt.

The Grand Duke strongly resembles King Madilov as I remember him.

Madilov too had shining silver hair, tall stature, and a commanding presence. A fine-looking man in his prime.

The five elder princes all took after the queen, with black hair and smaller builds.

I’d heard King Sallesio originally intended for me to marry the fifth prince, her son.

Likely Queen Elizaveta pushed forward a son not of her womb to block that match.

I leaned back in my chair, recalling the Grand Duke’s long lashes casting a shadow each time he lowered his eyes.

“…In so many ways, what an unfortunate man.”

By the time I finished my work and returned to my chamber, midnight had arrived.

After bathing and drying my hair, I was just about to slip into bed.

Suddenly, Korong, the calico cat sleeping soundly on the cushion beside the bed, sprang up.

“Korong? Where are you going at this hour?”

Something was odd.

She had never once left her designated sleeping spot.

She padded softly to the door, scratching it insistently with her paw, wanting to be let out.

“…Where could you be headed?”

I opened the door and followed her.

Strange—Korong was usually diurnal, not one to wander at night.

But she seemed to have a destination in mind.

I walked a long way in slippers until we finally arrived…

At the Grand Duke’s chamber.

Through the half-open door, she slipped inside with practiced ease—as if she’d done it many times before.

But why on earth was his door ajar in the middle of the night?

Curiosity got the better of me. I peeked inside.

The Grand Duke sat by the window, bathed in pale moonlight. His delicate profile was outlined against the glow.

He was gazing into his hand, holding a short piece of string.

What was that string?

The moment Korong entered, he smiled warmly and greeted her.

She hopped straight onto his lap as if it were arranged.

Wait… wasn’t she only supposed to sit on my lap? Why do I feel jealous…

Knock, knock.

I tapped the open door. It was well past sundown—why was he still awake?

“May I come in?”

After a pause, his voice answered.

“Grand Duchess?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“…Please, come in.”

As I entered, he gently set the cat down and rose from his seat by the window.

The hand holding the string slipped behind his back.