Chapter 44
The moment a voice mixed with a base, sneering laugh brushed against her ears, Grace, who had stubbornly been staring only ahead, turned to look at the man.
“Steel Foot” tilted his head this way and that, scrutinizing her face.
“Both your parents had decent faces. Your mother was blond like you, wasn’t she? And your eyes—those came from your father. But the truth is, both of them were being hunted by the Imperial Army. Thieves, weren’t they?”
Grace’s green eyes sank into an even colder calm. Steel Foot licked the ragged skin of his lips with his tongue before continuing.
“Because of guilt-by-association, if the parents are criminals, the children are criminals too, aren’t they? That’s why, near the Wall of Death, there are plenty of villages where runaway criminals hide. If caught, even their children would be condemned. So in those places, parents never reveal their family names.”
He rolled his eyes theatrically, like he was putting on a play.
“But how do you think they survive around there? The beasts come out at all hours, and in that damned cold nothing you plant ever sprouts! Even criminals have to eat something, don’t they?”
Steel Foot turned to the nobles, speaking in a suggestive tone.
“Beyond the Wall of Death, since no people live there, you’ll find all sorts of unknown plants. Most are poisonous, sure, but you know what they say—poisonous herbs and medicinal ones are often the same thing. You’ve got to risk your life crossing the Wall, but if you’re lucky enough to bring back something, it sells for a fine price.”
“So then, you’re saying this woman’s parents also crossed beyond the Wall of Death?”
“Yes, yes. Vicky’s parents were among those who went back and forth beyond the Wall. And maybe they even had dealings with those so-called ‘Invisible Ones’ said to live there. Anyway, I heard both her parents died. Isn’t that right, Vicky?”
“……”
“When an elder asks, you should answer, you ill-mannered brat. Tsk, tsk! That’s all I know.”
When Steel Foot’s testimony ended, the marquis’s faction of nobles deliberately raised their voices, steering the atmosphere.
“Then it’s certain that her parents sided with traitors!”
“She herself may have joined hands with them too!”
The marquis placed a solemn hand upon his chest and declared in a heavy tone:
“Your Excellency! The maid this woman brought with her is still unaccounted for. Immediately after the incident, all the gates of Richmond were sealed and searched thoroughly, but she could not be found. Is that not proof the maid was one of these ‘Invisible Ones’? Moreover, this woman’s identity is extremely suspicious.”
Meanwhile, Steel Foot limped in a circle around Grace.
Thud, clop—thud, clop.
“Krrh… you! Just like when you were little, you really are the spitting image of your mother. Such a pretty thing—you look exactly like her.”
The marquis disliked the interruption of his solemn speech, but he let it pass; after all, the more base Steel Foot acted, the more the woman—and the duke’s honor with her—would be tarnished.
“Wrong.”
A low, heavy voice came from behind.
Thud, clop.
Steel Foot’s noisy steps halted abruptly, and the marquis also stopped mid-sentence, turning back.
“What?”
Steel Foot swayed awkwardly on his good leg, frowning as he looked at Grace. Her face was pale, but her eyes burned so fiercely it seemed she might tear him apart on the spot.
“……”
Meeting those blade-sharp eyes, he realized instantly that something was wrong.
Fraud, theft, even murder—Steel Foot had done whatever it took to survive. But he had lived by one single rule:
‘Never lay a hand on those who live as though they have vowed to die.’
That was why he had never wanted to be entangled in matters related to the duke. The duke was one of that kind.
But the money was far too great to pass up. It was distasteful, yes, but since it wasn’t the duke himself he was dealing with, he thought it safe enough.
And yet—
“I said you’re wrong.”
“…Pardon?”
Grace spoke, each syllable bitten off like steel striking stone.
“My hair I received from my father. My eyes, from my mother. And I resemble my father more than my mother.”
“……”
“As my forebears always did.”
There was a strange, incomprehensible power in her low voice. Steel Foot, dwarfed by a woman half his size, could only blink helplessly.
Grace closed her eyes, letting out a long, slow sigh.
“Haa…”
It felt as though molten metal was coursing through her veins, spreading from her chest through her entire body.
“I don’t know you. And you don’t know me.”
There was only one person here who truly knew her.
When she opened her eyes again, she saw Ares watching from afar. Though exhaustion had drained all color from the world into shades of black and white, the man seated at the dais seemed vividly alive, as if the only thing retaining color.
Grace walked toward him. At the circular steps leading up to the dais, she stopped, then bent her knees in a perfect, respectful bow.
It was the essence of Decan noble etiquette—flawless, without the slightest fault.
“That… that’s not something you can just learn in a few days…”
A hushed murmur rose from somewhere, and the marchioness shot a sharp glare toward the gathered nobles. A bad feeling gnawed at Steel Foot, and he picked relentlessly at the hangnail on his thumb, licking his lips nervously.
Then Grace straightened, lifting her gaze to Ares.
“Your Excellency, I am not this ‘Vicky’ that man speaks of. My name is indeed Grace.”
“What other lies do you intend to spew to cloud His Excellency’s judgment! Stop wagging that wicked tongue and step back at once!”
“Marchioness Rinco.”
Ares called her name with undisguised disgust.
“This council was convened to verify Grace’s identity. I’ve heard your side; should we not now hear the other?”
The marchioness bit her lips furiously but could not object further. Once she fell silent, Grace spoke again in a calm voice.
“There is someone in the Duke of Richmond’s estate who knows me. Please summon that person to confirm my identity.”
“And who might that be?”
The marchioness scoffed inwardly, mocking both Grace and the duke. Who could she possibly name now, after all this time? Joseph Rexton hadn’t been seen for days, but surely it was some petty servant in need of money that he’d hastily arranged.
But the name that left Grace’s lips was not some petty servant’s.
“Edward Rinco.”
The marchioness’s confidence, as solid as an ice fortress, began to melt at the sound of the name she cherished most in the world.
“…What?”
My son?
The marquis and marchioness blinked dumbly, utterly unprepared to hear their son’s name invoked. The marquis’s faction of nobles also exchanged baffled looks, unable to decide whether they had heard correctly or what it meant.
Grace concealed the cold smile tugging at her lips and addressed Ares firmly.
“Please summon Edward Rinco, the young marquis. He will confirm who I am.”
＊ ＊ ＊
The summons from the duke reached Edward Rinco just as he stepped into the grand garden of the main estate.
“Really? I was planning to pay my respects once the Grand Council was over—this saves me the trouble. Hmm…”
When Edward checked his attire, his servant asked,
“Shall I fetch a fresh cloak, my lord?”
“No, this one will do. Just polish the boots.”
Edward pointed to the boots soiled from long travels, and the servant quickly knelt to clean them. Once they gleamed again, Edward strode toward the Hall of the Blue Eagle.
Autumn had fully settled over the Duke of Richmond’s castle.
In the inner courtyard, the great oak tree bore thumb-sized acorns in clusters, while its saw-toothed leaves blushed crimson. Standing beneath the cloistered walkway that ringed the courtyard, one could feel the breeze that had brushed the tree flowing gently past.
The western library was also especially beautiful this season. Then again, was there any place in this ancient castle that wasn’t? Edward loved this estate.
Passing through the cloister, he glanced at the oak. Again this year, it was heavy with acorns. His lips curved faintly upward, but as he entered the corridor, his hazel eyes sank into deep gravity.
Ahead, he saw soldiers pulling open the tightly shut doors of the hall upon spotting him. The closer he drew, the steadier he made his breathing.
Beneath the vast tapestry of the first duke’s eagle crest, his father had once spoken these words:
“Eddie, you know… this place feels like my home, and yet not quite. Being here is like floating among the clouds. Pleasant, yes, but sometimes my feet feel hollow, as if nothing is beneath me. It’s unsettling.”
‘……’
“I want this place to become my home. What do you think?”
Edward had given no answer. His gaze had been caught on the enormous eagle crest behind his father.
Even as a child, he understood his father was confessing his desire to be the master of that crest.
But perhaps because the crest was so much larger than his father, that wish had felt vague, like a distant dream.
Since then, whenever Edward looked at the first duke’s crest, he couldn’t help but wonder:
Could there ever be someone greater than that? Someone who could make it seem no more than a backdrop?
…No. He hoped not.
