CHAPTER 92……………………………
: You Didn’t Sleep With Her, Right?
The next morning.
The knights, who had stood guard sleepless at the palace gates all night, spotted Dietrich in full armor.
Beside him was a knight they had never seen before.
The knight’s face was hidden by a helmet, but their frame was so slender that it was hard to tell whether the knight was wearing the armor or the armor was wearing the knight.
“Sir Anderson, his usual adjutant, is much taller and broader than me, so it can’t be him. Then who is this knight?”
The knights looked like they had plenty of questions.
Dietrich, as if shutting down their thoughts, stepped in front of the knight and spoke.
“Nothing happened during the night?”
“Your Grace the Duke of Calypso… no, my lord.”
Since Anderson had scolded them for not addressing Dietrich properly, the palace knights had been extra careful not to slip into calling him “Your Grace the Duke.”
“The people are in an uproar on every street, demanding the witch be handed over. The prisons are full—we can’t lock away any more agitators.”
The knight, speaking cautiously, glanced at Dietrich and added,
“No one knows why this ridiculous rumor about your lover being a witch has spread so far…”
Dietrich, however, listened with a calm expression.
“No one is to be let into the palace. And no one is to leave it, either.”
“Yes, my lord.”
With that, Dietrich walked off with the knight at his side.
Only once they were far from the palace did Celia, who had been silently walking beside him, speak up.
“But really, do I have to wear this helmet? The other knights don’t.”
Through the slit of the helmet, Dietrich gazed down at Celia’s emerald eyes, filled with deep affection.
At the same time, he recalled the last time they had walked the streets together.
Celia in a white bonnet, and the dozens of lustful eyes that followed her.
Since he couldn’t very well gouge out everyone’s eyes, Dietrich had disguised her as a knight instead.
Still, Celia’s build was far too different from the other knights’. Even with armor and a helmet, her height and aura could not be hidden.
Dietrich’s eyes lingered on her.
The first time they had shared a bed, Celia had fainted not long after.
Dietrich resolved that, for the sake of improving her stamina, he would make sure she ate plenty of good food.
And he also decided that making love with her every day to keep her healthy would now be part of his routine.
Celia, of course, had no idea what was going through his head.
Feeling his gaze burning into her, she tugged at his hand.
“Dietrich, are you even listening to me?”
“…Yes. I am.”
He gave a faint smile and naturally wrapped his gloved hand around hers.
Celia narrowed her eyes.
Good thing the street was empty this early in the morning, otherwise it would be like they were shouting to the world that they were lovers.
“If you’re going to act like this, then what’s the point of me even wearing this armor?”
At her words, Dietrich reluctantly let go of her hand.
“You’re right about that.”
“…Forget it.”
Though she said that, she could hardly stop her lips from curling upward.
“Thank goodness my face is hidden under this helmet.”
As she smiled silently, Dietrich’s voice fell by her ear.
“Today we’ll search every corner of the capital, starting from the palace district, for Illeon. And we’ll take care of the Brillion family as well.”
He stopped, then fixed her with a steady gaze.
Since they were already outside the palace, dealing with the Brillions along the way made sense. Celia had no reason to object.
When she had lived in the viscount’s manor, the Brillions had exploited her daily.
They had scorned her as a beggar of unknown parentage.
They had paraded her in public matchmaking events, showing her off like merchandise to men who paid good money, nearly selling her off to the aged emperor—and now they were leading the charge to brand her a witch and cut ties.
Celia was utterly sick of them.
Of the Brillions. Of this wretched Avalon they stood upon.
All of it.
“The prisons are overflowing. I may have to start executing people on the spot. If you want, I can have the Brillions dragged into court instead.”
Court? What was the point of giving them that?
Celia shook her head.
“You can do as you like. Kill them, spare them—it’s up to you.”
She startled at her own words. Had she spoken too lightly of human lives? She glanced up at Dietrich.
But far from being concerned, he wore a soft smile.
“…Then I’ll do as I please. Kill them, or let them live.”
His smile remained, but his voice was icy.
Celia knew then that the Brillions would not meet a pleasant end.
How lucky she was, to have someone willing to stain his hands with blood for her.
A steadfast partner, found when she had been cornered at the edge of despair.
A man who healed her broken body and would, without fail, bring Avalon to ruin.
Celia smiled silently.
As the morning sun rose, people began appearing on the once-empty streets.
The sight of the armored Dietrich made their faces blanch.
The new emperor, Illeon, of the once-prosperous Gredrick dukedom, had been imprisoned.
And it was Dietrich who had thrown him into the dungeons.
He had ordered that anyone who so much as uttered the word “witch” be locked away.
The holy temple had burned, and rumors spread like wildfire: that the captain of the imperial knights had fallen under the spell of the witch Celia Brillion, and was leading Avalon’s destruction.
Yet in front of Dietrich, no one dared speak carelessly.
His tall, imposing figure, the armor that could not conceal his powerful build, the crimson eyes beneath raven-black hair—
His very presence radiated such pressure that all around him scrambled to look away.
It was then that a young boy, walking with a noblewoman, suddenly ran toward him.
The noblewoman’s face turned pale.
Dietrich looked down at the small head that had planted itself before him.
“They say you’re bewitched by the witch. Is it true?”
Dietrich frowned.
The child couldn’t have been more than seven. Far too young to even know if his words carried malice.
“Are you really going to destroy Avalon? You’re the captain of the imperial knights. You can’t do that.”
Dietrich tilted his head. The belatedly panicked noblewoman grabbed the boy tightly in her arms and bowed repeatedly.
“F-forgive us, Your Grace the Duke of Calypso… the child doesn’t know what he’s saying, please—”
“Boy.”
Dietrich cut her off and called to the child.
He bent down to meet his eyes.
The boy, clutched in the noblewoman’s arms, looked back at him.
Dietrich asked, softly,
“Who are these ‘people’ who told you that?”
In the end, the boy did not say who.
Dietrich did not scold him.
The child bore no guilt.
He had merely repeated what the adults said every day.
And they were right, after all. Dietrich truly meant to destroy Avalon.
When that day came, the boy would surely live his whole life resenting him.
An endless cycle of ruin. Destroyed, then destroy. Killed, then avenged.
But there was no thought of turning back now.
The same people who once praised Celia were now branding her a wicked witch, spouting nonsense.
Dietrich knew well what people needed: a scapegoat.
A beautiful sacrifice to contain their fears and grievances.
And once they burned Celia at the stake, they would just look for another victim.
Of course, he would never allow that.
To him, this wretched Avalon couldn’t crumble fast enough.
From the way they screamed about witch hunts, it was obvious Avalon was bound to collapse on its own.
“All I need to do is finish Illeon, the rest of them, and the Brillions who tormented Celia.”
Dietrich and Celia prowled through the capital until the evening sun began to set.
And their efforts bore fruit.
“Ugh!”
Bound tight with thick ropes, the Brillion viscount was forced to his knees before Dietrich.
His brown-haired head lowered, his eyes glinting blue with defiance.
“Your Grace the Duke of Calypso, even if you covet my daughter, this treatment is far too much!”
The captured viscount acted as though he were utterly blameless.
Dietrich lifted his chin with the hilt of his sword.
A revolting face, dripping with desire.
“And yet, you never even regarded her as a daughter.”
The viscount’s eyes flashed wide as he retorted,
“I am the one who raised that nameless gutter rat into a noble! I fed her, clothed her, gave her a bed!”
Celia, standing beside Dietrich, glared down at him like he was a worm. Thankfully her helmet hid her face.
“Your Grace, may I ask you just one thing?”
Without waiting for an answer, the viscount let out a leering grin.
“You didn’t sleep with Celia, did you?”
