Chapter 35
The day had finally come for the Duke and Duchess of Draphania to depart for their duchy, Dialune.
From early morning, the ducal mansion was bustling with preparations to escort the couple. Excitement filled the air—today marked their long-awaited return to the land that was rightfully theirs again.
Once Phil Evans and Hugo Barrett completed the last of the arrangements, the Duke and Duchess, Rudiche and Quinlan, appeared inside the mansion.
From the second floor, they descended the grand staircase slowly, arm in arm. Their graceful and affectionate descent captured everyone’s gaze.
It was a sight that never failed to amaze.
Phil swallowed his awe as he watched his lords descend.
Just last night, Rudiche had worked him to exhaustion, saying everything in the mansion needed to be perfectly wrapped up before they left. Yet today, she stood there—poised, elegant, and flawless—as though she hadn’t spent the previous night in a whirlwind of commands and paperwork.
Wow. Lady Rudiche really looks like a refined noblewoman.
Afraid his thoughts might somehow slip out, Phil clenched his jaw tightly. But—
“Phil.”
“Y–Yes, ma’am!”
Startled by the sound of his name, Phil snapped to attention. Rudiche was looking at him with a gentle smile.
“If you say anything weird, I’ll hit you.”
“…I didn’t say a word.”
“Don’t even think anything weird, then.”
“……”
Is she a witch or something?
“I said don’t even think.”
“Can you read minds, my lady?”
“Did it ever occur to you that maybe you’re just too simple?”
“……”
“Don’t bully Phil too much, Rudiche.”
At Quinlan’s amused remark, Rudiche turned her gaze to him.
“Bully him? I rely on him more than anyone.”
“Hmm. For someone you ‘rely on,’ you seem to enjoy teasing him quite a bit.”
Quinlan’s glance flicked to Phil Evans, whose expression screamed unbelievable. Quinlan smiled faintly.
“I trust you’ll restrain yourself.”
“Of course.”
Rudiche’s radiant smile swept over everyone gathered there—those who would go, and those who would stay behind.
Sir Belmont would remain to oversee the mansion’s security, as would the head butler, Gordon. The townhouse in the capital couldn’t be left unattended, so the two who had managed things during the recent war were to stay.
Hugo Barrett, captain of the Draphania Knights, would accompany them with an elite escort. Gudel Austin was to join later, once matters with the Evnia Knights were settled.
Phil, of course, had grumbled endlessly about why the Duke and Duchess needed any escort at all.
“Take good care of things here.”
“Do not worry, Your Grace. While you’re away in the duchy, we’ll safeguard this place.”
“Safe travels.”
With farewells exchanged and respectful bows behind them, Rudiche and Quinlan boarded the carriage.
The door shut, and the carriage began to move.
Bearing only the crest of House Draphania, it soon disappeared from sight.
Moments later, the rest of the convoy followed—thus began their journey home to the duchy.
Count Hubert’s family was among the oldest countships in the Ebron Empire.
They had long maintained their power by supporting the imperial heirs. Though not a particularly large house, they were not one easily toppled either.
Their legacy was built on loyalty and balance—virtues they believed would sustain both empire and house alike.
But since Bloom Hubert had become the head of the family, people no longer said such things.
He had inherited his ancestors’ loyalty, yes—but not their sense of balance. That was his misfortune.
Lately, Bloom Hubert had been desperately searching for a chance to curry favor with the crown prince. If he could only catch the heir’s eye, he believed his family would rise again.
I don’t like it.
When the crown prince voiced his displeasure before him, Bloom Hubert thought it might just be divine providence.
The prince despised House Draphania—and wished them gone from his sight.
To prove his loyalty, Count Hubert conceived of something beyond his means. And to make it happen, he ventured into the back alleys of the imperial capital, Ebron.
There, he sought out a mercenary group infamous for taking on unsavory work.
Stepping into a tavern, he glanced around.
It looked like any other tavern—people eating, drinking, and laughing.
As he approached the bar, the man behind it, presumably the owner, asked,
“Who are you looking for?”
“I heard this place takes… special requests.”
“This isn’t that kind of establishment.”
“I was told you take contracts—to kill people.”
At once, all movement and noise in the tavern ceased.
It had been a small voice, yet everyone heard it.
“Hm?”
Startled by the sudden shift in atmosphere, the Count glanced around.
Every eye in the tavern was fixed on him—cold, sharp, as if staring at something that shouldn’t exist.
Bloom Hubert’s gaze darted nervously from face to face, but no one moved. The only one who remained composed was the bartender.
“Hmm. I’m not sure what you’ve heard, but I think you’re mistaken.”
“I–If it’s money you want, I’ll pay any price.”
At that, the bartender’s eyebrow lifted.
And as though a spell had broken, the patrons went back to laughing and talking as before.
Blinking in confusion, Count Hubert turned to the bartender again—whose tone had suddenly softened.
“Why don’t we step inside and discuss it, sir?”
His smile was polite but unsettling, the kind that didn’t allow refusal.
Bloom Hubert swallowed hard.
Still, he moved forward with feigned confidence—pretending he felt no fear at all.
“This carriage is quite nice. Feels like a secret chamber,” Rudiche remarked.
Quinlan glanced her way.
Usually, during travel, he would ride at the front, leading the group, while Hugo guarded the rear.
But this time, things were different.
Quinlan was riding with Rudiche in the carriage, while his vice-captain led the vanguard and Hugo maintained the rearguard.
Between them rolled the Draphania carriage.
“A secret chamber, you say? That’s an interesting description.”
“I like that we can talk about things others can’t overhear.”
Rudiche peeked outside. Knights were riding alongside, keeping pace to protect the carriage.
Judging the distance between them, she drew the curtains. It wouldn’t block sound much, but she wanted even a thin veil between them and the outside world.
“Then why don’t we have a more serious conversation now?”
She relaxed her posture, leaning comfortably back. Quinlan, watching her, eventually did the same.
“Is there something you want to discuss?”
He couldn’t guess what she meant to say.
He had already tried persuading her to stay behind in the capital—several times, in fact. He had warned her the duchy might be dangerous. But Rudiche had refused.
‘There are people I’m taking with me. How can I tell them to trust me if I stay behind? Would you make House Draphania a family whose word means nothing?’
Realizing he couldn’t win a battle of words, Quinlan had given up and agreed to go with her.
But for her to bring up a private talk now—it was hard to imagine what it could be about.
“Go on.”
Yet Rudiche didn’t speak immediately. She simply gazed at him, smiling softly.
“…Why are you looking at me like that?” Quinlan finally asked, frowning slightly.
“Why are you smiling?”
“Because I’m happy.”
“Happy?”
“Yes. I like sitting across from you like this, and I like talking with you.”
Her gentle grin only deepened Quinlan’s puzzlement.
Of course—it wasn’t just for that reason that she’d drawn the curtains and called this a secret talk.
Anticipating his expression would soon change, Rudiche finally said,
“I think it’s time we discussed our wedding night and our heir, don’t you?”
As Quinlan’s face froze stiff, Rudiche’s smile turned even brighter—calm, assured, and full of conviction.
