Chapter 106
Thud, thud, thud!
Chunks of stone fell from the ceiling.
Yet, the Heather family’s bunker seemed safe. Gerald had already cast protective wards.
The children huddled together, and the women clung to the walls in fear.
But contrary to their expressions, the candles in the candelabras glowed softly here and there, illuminating the stone walls.
Theodore’s round head nuzzled against my chest. The soft texture of his hair and the comforting warmth of his 36.5°C body brought solace.
Michael… dead.
The original scenario had completely changed.
Could it be that I couldn’t see even a step ahead now?
As I ran my fingers through his curly hair, my racing heart gradually calmed.
Good. Yes, this is enough. Let’s focus on the present.
I lightly pressed my lips against the little head that smelled faintly of baby powder.
“Stepmother.”
Theodore tried to wrap his short arms around my waist, but they only reached halfway down my back. Yet, with his small, round hands, he brushed along my back and asked,
“Are you scared?”
“No.”
“Not at all. I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Yes.”
Perhaps feeling my words lacked sincerity, Theodore scrunched his little face close to me, wrinkled his brows, and snorted.
“Hmm?”
“Really, really. I’m not scared at all because I’m with you, Theo.”
I poked Theodore’s nose gently.
“Hehe, I like being like this with Stepmother.”
“Me too.”
As if to reassure me, Theodore patted my hand.
An angel who knew how to comfort others—that was Theodore von Zeyer.
But then…
“No! I’m going out. Open the door!”
“Daphne!”
“I can fight those monsters too!”
I looked up to see Daphne standing at the door, her cut hair held back by a headband, wearing overalls with elastic at the cuffs that made her pants puff like pumpkins.
The Heather family knights and the Schlesen Castle knights looked down at the bold little girl.
Earlier, she had tried to rally the children to fight the monsters herself, but no one had responded.
Yet somehow, she had coordinated with Theodore, and when they tried to escape to the bunker, they had been caught at the rear.
Though Theodore had insisted he could fight, Gerald’s words about protecting his stepmother made him clench his fists and willingly enter the bunker.
He had been doing his best to calm me ever since.
Daphne, however, was different. She had been publicly scolded by Duchess Chloris as a disgrace to the family and dragged in reluctantly.
Once inside the bunker, she secretly relaxed.
It was more spacious and sturdy than described in the book. There was a table, chairs, a bed, and even a simple cooking area. It could accommodate servants and maids.
I had read that before Julius’s reign, monsters attacked so often that most households had bunkers.
If not for the shaking evidence of the fierce battle above, this room would have been peaceful—but the mother-daughter power struggle made it anything but.
“Idiot! Mom’s an idiot!”
Daphne raised her head and screamed in a final outburst. Children’s voices, whining across time and space, were surprisingly nerve-wracking.
“Duchess Chloris.”
Kenneth, holding his temples with his middle fingers, spoke from the high seat as if his head hurt.
Everyone’s gaze turned to the elegant, pale empress.
“I apologize.”
Duchess Chloris Schmaier knelt to meet Daphne’s eye level and issued a low threat:
“You will be excused from knight training.”
Daphne pressed her lips together and lowered her head. Her clenched fists trembled. Even I, wary of a seven-year-old’s unpredictable defiance, felt a chill run through me.
“Coward. Mom’s a coward.”
Chloris warned coldly.
“Daphne, listen carefully. When executing operations, a knight’s stance is all about cooperation—first, second, and third. Your actions are disrupting the group’s order.”
“…”
“Therefore, you are unqualified to attend knight lessons, sword training, or equestrian lessons.”
Shock made Daphne’s eyes tremble.
“Furthermore, you are unfit as a member of the Schmaier family.”
Chloris rose, shook off her skirt, and ordered the knights:
“As the lady of the Schmaier household, I command you to expel this child who refuses orders and disrupts the bunker’s order.”
Chloris announced this as if addressing an adult, then sat down in an empty corner seat.
Daphne pressed her lips together, glaring at her mother. Only the flickering candlelight filled the quiet bunker.
The knights hesitated.
“Daphne.”
Everyone turned to the source of the voice: Sinclair. But Daphne didn’t look back.
The shadows flickered in the candlelight, disturbed by the monster’s bombardment.
“Polite Daphne, I’d like to have a word with you.”
“…Huff.”
Finally, Daphne turned.
“Daphne, the noble Empress of the Empire is here.”
Kenneth, frowning, glared as I spoke her name.
‘Yes, her father died, so of course she’s grieving. And there was a rebellion this morning. But the empress shouldn’t behave like this.’
I quickly turned to my devoted Alfred.
“The Crown Prince, heir to the next reign, is also here.”
The Crown Prince Alfred’s green eyes seemed to sparkle with a glint I could only see.
Anyway…
“As you can see, there’s also Lady Melas Kaleore of the Zubius family, an ambassador, and the young Beatrice, who will likely become a saint in the future.”
Lady Melas frowned; she wanted Beatrice to marry the Crown Prince.
Mother, a child isn’t really a child if everything goes their way.
Beatrice was destined to become a saint, the only one able to wield power against the demon in the future.
Beatrice, proud, crossed her arms and held her chin high.
“Also, there are Cordelia and Odelia of the Heather family, responsible for the empire’s weapons, and the Koen siblings. They will likely manage weapons for both the Empire and Kingdom in the future.”
Cecile smiled, stroking the head of her youngest son Koen, who was in her lap.
Cordelia, sitting in front, hugged her sister Odelia. Beautiful sisters, bringing a smile to anyone’s face.
“And what about your beloved Rotis Salamis family? Duchess Niobe Salamis is pregnant now, isn’t she?”
Rotis hugged his mother’s belly.
“And there’s the Bodrina family, your family leading the empire’s knights. Your two older brothers are likely fighting for the Empire now.”
Daphne puffed her cheeks, trying to figure out my intent.
“See, these are the people you must protect. If the bunker collapses, and the knights protecting us fall, there are still citizens here to defend.”
Daphne’s eyes wavered.
“And others too. Me as well! Daphne, I hope you can protect us.”
Daphne released the air from her cheeks, fiddled with her pant cuffs, and pursed her lips.
Seems promising. Recognition matters.
A six-year-old, indeed.
“Can we rely on you?”
“Hmm…”
Daphne glanced at the noblewomen and children, shrugging lightly.
Permission?
Some looked on mockingly, but Daphne was serious.
Step by step, she walked toward me like a knight.
“…?”
She lifted her head and looked up at me.
“Duchess, may I entrust my life to you?”
“Absolutely.”
“Hmm, then…”
Daphne knelt on one knee, bent the other, raised one arm to form a right angle, and pressed her forehead to it, proclaiming:
“I will become your duchess’s knight. Please grant me permission.”
What!?
I knew knights typically became pages around age 7–8, leaving their family to train at a relative’s or another knight’s estate, gaining political and administrative experience.
And in emergencies, they could be used as hostages.
I glanced at Chloris of the Schmaier family. Our eyes met, and she quickly turned away.
Mother, why are you doing this?
I never wanted this kind of trouble, Mother!
Sigh. Once again, caught between a hormonal child and a parent.
This meant Daphne would remain in our castle for seven years until she became a squire?
“Daphne, are you ready for chores?”
Theodore craned his neck and spoke casually to the girl, slightly taller and a year older than him.
So she would choose her stepmother’s knight herself?
“Of course. I’ll do everything for knight training—errands, messages, everything. I’ll train hard, protect the duchess, and even rescue her if captured.”
Daphne pounded her chest confidently, declaring loudly.
Her bold proclamation gave me a headache. I resisted pressing my temples as if I were an empress.
I looked again at Duchess Chloris Schmaier.
‘Help me, please. Help me, please!’
