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Chapter 70
Duke Blake
The Blake ducal house traces its lineage back only two generations. Prince Blake, who had been the younger brother of King Lodbrok, gave the knights loyal to him over to the king and chose to retire from public life.
He was not a warrior who wielded the sword, but a scholar, and he wished to live as one. To such a gentle younger brother, the title of duke was bestowed, almost as though it were a reward.
Duke Blake did not involve himself in central politics. Instead, he wished to make flowers bloom in this harsh, ironbound land. He wanted to nurture scholars who held pens and read books, and artists who created beauty.
In search of a way to do so, the duke took note of the academy founded by the king of Panborough, and, modeling it after that system, he established the Neust Academy.
The king spared no support for his younger brother’s endeavor. After all, it was far less threatening for potential rivals to spend their time reading books than to raise swords.
Graduates who had studied advanced knowledge began to lead the kingdom’s high society. The once bleak houses and clothing slowly changed for the sake of “refinement,” and the knights’ stiff manner of speech softened into honeyed tones that charmed people.
Anyone who came out of the academy was said to be “sophisticated.” Before long, even candidates for the headship of noble houses enrolled there.
Thus, under the guidance of Neust Academy, the Kingdom of Lodbrok transformed from a barbaric realm of blood into one where culture had begun to take root. They were no longer “savages.”
Adelheid Blake. The current duke at the age of twenty-seven, the third successor of the Blake house. Seven years ago, at just twenty, he lost his father and inherited the title.
The Blake family was built on love. His mother’s warmth, his father’s kindness, the loyal retainers, and the academy they all nurtured together.
Everyone called him “Young Master Adel” and praised him. Yet he was plagued by an emptiness no one else knew.
His only kin were the royal family, with whom, naturally, there was little interaction. The Blakes deliberately married foreign nobility as duchesses so as not to be entangled in succession disputes, cutting off ties with maternal relatives as well.
He had no siblings. His father had been an only child, perhaps out of concern for succession, and so was he.
Adelheid was lonely and bored. Loved by everyone, yet at his core, utterly alone. Aware that his restlessness was an indulgent concern, he withdrew even further into his own world.
And then, Dian appeared.
He still remembers it. It was when the hidden prince who slew the dragon, Guiscard Lodbrok, was ascending the throne, and was planning a conquest of Panborough.
A woman, covered in wounds, came here with a letter of recommendation from the Panborough royal family. She had once briefly met Prince Philip of Panborough at Calcos.
It had been the slightest acquaintance, yet the plea was written with desperate sincerity. Adelheid accepted Diana Brienne.
She was battered and broken. She kept every room lit, as though afraid of the dark. The clinking of chains made her flinch in terror.
When a servant dropped a silver candlestick while cleaning, she screamed as though she were being torn apart. She feared the approach of men, and ate only tiny amounts of food.
He could guess well enough what kind of ordeal she had suffered. As a lord, he had not been unfamiliar with such cases.
His retainers did not understand the attention he lavished upon her.
But Adelheid wanted to see her more closely. Bit by bit, he approached her carefully.
He dyed his striking silver hair brown, softened his footsteps, avoided any movements that might seem imposing—approaching with utmost caution.
Dian and Adel.
Though they deceived each other, for Adelheid, this was a sweet, entirely new experience. His whole mind was consumed by her. Perhaps he was nearly mad.
She dyed her hair brown as well, and they called each other by false names. How intoxicating it was.
Before long, Dian wore clean clothes and tied her hair neatly. Though her frail frame still worried him, she looked a little healthier.
When her eyes curved into a smile at him, he felt a surge of emotion. He told himself it was a shallow, foolish elation, but the thought that he was useful to someone drove him to the brink of madness.
A few months later, the king issued a warrant for the arrest of Diana Brienne.
It was bad enough that the ducal house had harbored someone vouched for by the enemy royal family of Panborough, now under occupation. But she was also a wanted fugitive of the crown. Duke Blake should, of course, demonstrate loyalty to the royal family.
Some urged that Diana be handed over immediately. But Adelheid chose another path.
Was it because she was so pitiful? Or because she had only just begun to smile at the “Adel” she knew?
He lingered near her, watching. At times she was sharp, at times fearful—but always gentle, soft.
He thought Dian a good friend. In time, she grew even larger in his heart. At some point, he felt a love so overwhelming he could not suppress it.
***
“Wife?”
Adelheid frowned, his violet eyes turning cold. Diana, startled, looked at her “Adel.” He had always been lighthearted; she had never seen him so serious.
“What is the meaning of this, Dian?”
He ignored Guiscard completely, looking only at her.
“Dian?”
Guiscard muttered the name, displeasure radiating from him.
“It’s true,” she said.
“……”
“I am to marry His Majesty.”
Adel’s face twisted into a sneer, as though he had just heard the worst joke. At last, he turned to face the king before him.
“So this is why you put out a warrant for her? For this?”
“……”
“This is truly the worst.”
Guiscard’s eyes grew icy. Diana stiffened under the weight of that gaze. Adelheid’s bright violet eyes took it in.
“This is not your courtyard.”
“But it is my country as well.”
His tone carried challenge. Guiscard’s eyes locked onto the clear violet ones. Adelheid smiled at Diana.
“I’ve come to reclaim my staff.”
“……”
“Dian, let’s go home.”
Home.
The word parted Diana’s lips in disbelief. Home? Did she even have such a thing?
“I’ve piled up many new books. Someone needs to organize them.”
Adel spoke as though he would truly do so, if she wished it. Just then, Guiscard growled in a low voice.
“Neust Academy deliberately harbored someone wanted by the king. Even this—should I not take it as open rebellion?”
Diana’s mind snapped into clarity. Wanted? Me? And Adel had hidden it? This was dire. The Blake house had survived thanks not to great military power, but to unwavering loyalty to the crown.
“What are you saying, Adel?”
“……”
“I won’t go.”
Forcing a smile, she grabbed the hand of the man behind her. She felt the hardened calluses of a warrior’s hand.
“The wedding is right ahead. Where would I go now?”
That large hand closed over hers. Diana shook her head at Adel. A confrontation between Adelheid Blake and Guiscard Lodbrok must not happen.
“We’ll talk another time. Please, just go back for today.”
So saying, Diana pulled Guiscard’s hand. Contrary to her expectation that he would resist firmly, he let himself be led. Diana headed toward the main palace.
“You knew the duke?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Just… through work.”
As if realizing something, Diana released his hand. Guiscard’s eyes flicked down to where they had been joined. Perhaps his fingers ached; he clenched and opened his fist.
“Do you mean to hold him accountable?”
Diana’s voice trembled as she asked. Guiscard looked at her pale face in the sunlight, a face that seemed ready to collapse at any moment.
“If punishment must be dealt, then please start with me.”
“……”
“He only pitied me because of my pitiful state.”
“Pitiful?”
Diana’s eyes flew open in alarm. She turned her gaze aside and murmured,
“I only meant… I suffered a bit while running away from home.”
His gaze grew colder still. The atmosphere became even more forbidding, and fear gripped her. She had seen Guiscard swing a sword many times. If he killed Adel as well, what then? Her body trembled slightly.
“Please, don’t punish him. I beg you, Your Majesty.”
Guiscard stared hard at her face. Only after a long pause did he answer.
“So long as you do not think of that place as your home, I will not pursue any crime.”
“……”
Unable to restrain himself, he gripped her hand.
“You are my wife. Your home must be here.”
His lips seemed almost about to touch hers. But what brushed her hand instead was only the heat of his breath.
