Chapter 14
Still, he had no choice but to admit it. Grace had won the knights’ favor in just a few days—something Walter had only managed after years of leading them from the front lines. Of course, they hadn’t sworn fealty, but even so.
The turning point had likely been when she saved Andrew, refusing to give up even when her own life was at risk.
But that wasn’t all. She smiled at the right times, expressed gratitude, and memorized every name of those she exchanged greetings with. It was a kindness and humility unbefitting a noble lady who had lived her life exalted by others.
Unlike the deep navy cotton dresses she’d always worn, today she was dressed in a modest cream-colored gown. Her hair, braided and pinned up—likely by her maid Jessie—was as neat as a bride’s on her wedding day. She exuded the dignity and elegance so revered by the nobility, yet looked so delicate and fragile—who could possibly see her as a threat?
A sword hidden within a beautiful scabbard.
That was the impression Grace left on Walter. The problem was, even he kept forgetting that she was as sharp as a blade.
“Your Grace.”
The soft tone, like that of a lover calling out, sent a ticklish shiver down his nape.
Grace had quietly stepped up beside him, gazing down at the land below the mountain. Walter turned his head to follow her gaze. There stood the ancient and majestic Richmond Ducal Castle. The eagle crest on the flag fluttering atop the tallest spire was clearly visible. At once, both of their expressions grew cold.
Grace stared at the castle for a moment, then asked,
“Are you afraid?”
“Hah!”
Walter let out a sharp laugh, and Grace chuckled in response.
“And you? Are you afraid?”
His voice was unusually deep and resonant. She thought she could recognize it from far away, even with her eyes closed. Grace answered brightly,
“Of course not. But… I think it’s time we stop pretending.”
Walter slowly turned to look at her, but she continued to gaze down at the castle.
“You can’t keep treating me like a stranger anymore.”
“How much more kindly do you want me to treat you?”
“Grace.”
She turned to face him. Her eyes, lit by sunlight, sparkled like stars.
“Please call me Grace.”
“…”
“Walter.”
The way his name sounded coming from her lips was as sweet as her grape-colored eyes.
For as long as he could remember, Walter had lived fighting to survive. He’d endured life with the sharp focus of someone always on the edge of a cliff. Tenderness, love—those were things too distant for him to even dream of reaching. And yet, this woman made everything seem so easy.
Then a slight frown crossed Grace’s brow.
“If even this is too hard for you, that’s a problem.”
She shook her head slightly and gave him a sidelong glance, as if she were looking at someone unreliable. Walter, who had always accomplished everything flawlessly, felt almost as though his competence was being questioned.
“At least until Richmond is in our hands, please make an effort. I won’t take any of this lightly either.”
Her gentle voice cut through him clearly. After saying her piece, Grace turned toward the carriage. Walter’s gaze followed her.
For the past ten days, he had been watching her constantly.
‘You just have to love me.’
That had sounded simple enough, but the closer they got to Richmond, the less certain he felt.
How do I look like I love you? If I did love you, how would I want to treat you?
Thinking about love and Grace inevitably brought back the memory of the warmth of her lips, the sensation of her slender arms wrapping around his neck. Walter’s eyes darkened like the depths of an abyss.
At last, as if deciding something, he followed after her. With large strides, Walter caught up just as Grace was about to climb into the carriage. He grabbed her wrist.
“?!”
Surprised, she looked back at him—but he gently pulled her forward. Walter took her hand and walked ahead. Puzzled about what he was doing, Grace suddenly found herself facing a massive warhorse. Her eyes widened in shock, and Walter couldn’t help but laugh.
Grace blinked and asked,
“Are you saying we’re entering Richmond with me in your arms?”
“You said I should love you in front of everyone, didn’t you?”
“…”
“What, is this too much for you?”
It was her own words thrown back at her. As she instinctively composed her expression into its usual poise, Walter tilted his head and added,
“Then, excuse me for a moment.”
Despite his polite words, he lifted her with startling strength, setting her astride his horse. Without even needing to steady herself, Walter climbed up right behind her, encasing her in his arms. The feel of his chest against her back and shoulder made her skin tingle. Noticing her tension, Walter murmured,
“Relax. It’s more comfortable for both of us that way.”
The knights, eyes bulging, quickly mounted their own horses and followed. Jessie, left behind at the carriage, silently watched Grace in Walter’s arms. She had expected to feel upset seeing such a sight—but surprisingly, she felt calm.
“Well… it’s better than seeing her mistreated by those useless fools.”
Jessie’s murmured words vanished into the chilly air.
Grace’s awkwardness faded as time passed. The view from atop a tall horse was completely different from the one inside a carriage.
After passing through a dense forest, a vast expanse opened before them. The stronghold of the Richmond ducal family stood like an island in the middle of it. Surrounded by a wide and deep moat—almost river-like in scale—it looked like a natural fortress, with spire-like rooftops that pierced the sky like blades.
A crowd had gathered on the bridge connecting the land to the castle, ready to welcome the duke’s return.
But the man standing at the very front, with his back straight and chin held high, didn’t bow as Walter approached. The woman beside him didn’t either. They stood like hosts greeting a guest, and Grace and Walter both smirked at the same time.
How amusing. Thieves really are the boldest of all.
Grace leaned in and whispered,
“That must be the Marquis and Marchioness of Linco.”
Walter gave a cold smile and asked,
“Ready for battle, Grace?”
Instead of answering, Grace rested her head lightly against his chest. Still, her eyes remained locked on the marquis and his wife. Even from afar, she could see their eyes widen in shock.
Smiling shyly, Grace responded in a steady voice like a warrior preparing for war,
“Of course.”
This is the moment I’ve been waiting for all along.
“Brother, I’m so scared…”
A woman dressed in a charming pink gown whined in an equally sweet voice. The man walking her toward the castle gate sighed and turned to her, putting on a stern face.
“Flora.”
Flora’s round eyes shimmered with tears.
“I heard the Duke kills monsters like a demon! But even monsters are living creatures, aren’t they, Brother? I can’t even kill a mosquito without feeling bad—you know that.”
“…Flora.”
“How can I possibly marry someone so terrifying? I’m really scared…”
She shook her head lightly, making her silky pink hair sway.
Flora, the only daughter of Count Rowen—a vassal of the Richmond dukedom—was the princess of the northern social scene. Beloved by all the noble sons, envied and imitated by noble daughters, her fashionably overdone dresses suited her perfectly.
Just then, the maid behind her accidentally tugged a few strands of her hair while fixing her headpiece.
“Ow!”
“I’m so sorry, My Lady!”
The maid quickly bowed, but Flora’s face contorted with irritation. She ran a hand through her hair and looked down at the maid with open disdain.
“Honestly… these girls can’t do anything right.”
“I’m sorry…”
“Is fixing hair so hard? Don’t come back tomorrow. Brother, send her to the stables.”
“M-My Lady…!”
The maid cried out, but Flora walked away, annoyed.
“Enough, fix your expression. The Duke is almost at the bridge. Hurry.”
“Ugh… so scary…”
“There’s nothing to be afraid of. He’ll fall for you instantly. No man in Richmond doesn’t love you.”
Being the most adored woman in Richmond was Flora’s pride. She had even turned the heads of her friends’ fiancés—not that it was her fault, of course. That was just the foolishness of men. Her charm was her weapon.
Dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief, Flora followed her brother. As trumpets sounded, the crowd parted for them.
As they reached the gate, the wind blew from beyond the castle walls—carrying the scent of horses. Flora instinctively wrinkled her nose.
Since Empress Hetby’s rise to power, knights were no longer treated as they once were. In the Richmond duchy especially, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say they were outright scorned.
Flora also held knights in low regard. To her, they were no different from laboring commoners who made a living with their bodies. Their blood-soaked brutality repulsed her.
So even though he was a duke, a man who lived among knights and danced with death couldn’t possibly be appealing. Surely, he’d be brutish and terrifying.
“…!”
But when Flora laid eyes on the Duke of Richmond, she froze.
