Episode 19
Although the engagement had indeed taken place, it was such an inexplicable one that no one truly considered her the future Duchess of Valencia. Even the bride-to-be, Rayana, felt the same.
However, the Duke of Valencia, the man who arranged the engagement, seemed to have an unshakable conviction regarding both the engagement and the marriage.
“Valencia bows to no one. Even if you were the one in the wrong.”
At his resolute words, Rayana blinked her large eyes.
‘Why is he telling me this?’
Rayana already knew that the House of Valencia would never submit to another family.
The previous emperor had been the current Duke of Valencia’s father.
Once the crown prince, he had renounced his right to the throne and accepted the ducal title, leaving the palace voluntarily.
He was the only one who would not kneel even before the Emperor—that was the Duke.
As if reading her thoughts, the Duke placed a confident smile on his lips and lightly touched her shoulder.
Rayana felt that she could never carry herself with the same confidence as the Duke.
“Don’t forget that.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Rayana lowered her head and answered, but her mind was spinning. She didn’t completely understand what he meant.
What was a birthright to him was a burden to her.
But she didn’t have the courage to ask. When she glanced at the Duke, he lifted his hand from her small shoulder and stroked her head.
Her head tilted from the force of his large hand.
Perhaps he found it amusing, as he chuckled and teased her several more times.
‘Is he picking on me…?’
While Rayana frowned in confusion, the Duke spoke.
“Let’s begin training. Bring a wooden sword.”
“Yes!”
Rayana answered loudly.
There was something often said among those who returned from war:
Those who met the Duke on the battlefield—friend or foe—were inevitably awestruck by him.
To his allies, he offered divine strategy. To his enemies, merciless domination.
This was the perfect opportunity to experience the skill said to transcend human limits. Excitement flickered in Rayana’s eyes.
She had no idea the Duke was watching her from behind.
He had always been curious why Rayana wore leather gloves all the time.
The day she first came to the mansion and they shook hands, he had easily figured out the reason.
‘Her hands were a wreck. Just how young was she when she picked up a sword?’
It was obvious she had started young. Even the knights who fought alongside him hadn’t had hands so damaged.
Such damage at such a young age usually meant improper training.
‘Who taught her? That person needs retraining first.’
According to the vice-captain of the knights, Rayana was the most promising member of the current order.
Though he had softened the words out of respect for male nobles’ pride, it was no exaggeration—Rayana Chester was the most skilled among them.
Today, the Duke intended to test her abilities himself.
When Rayana returned with the wooden sword, Crociade asked:
“Who taught you swordsmanship?”
It sounded like a polite question, but what he truly meant was “Who’s the idiot who gave you such rotten training?”
“No one.”
Thinking she misunderstood, the Duke asked again.
“Not the knights. At the mansion.”
“No one, there either.”
Only then did Crociade realize the reason behind her damaged hands. It wasn’t poor training—it was survival.
“Who was the first person to teach you the sword?”
He paused briefly before asking.
Rayana found his persistent questioning odd.
“No one. I learned on the streets.”
At her kind answer, a sharp curse followed.
“Goddamn it.”
For once, the Duke sounded genuinely upset, running a hand down his face.
“I was wrong…”
“You haven’t forgotten my advice, have you?”
He swiftly cut her off, showing no intention of hearing an apology.
Rayana found this adult behavior unfamiliar.
Her closest adult, her guardian the Count, always demanded apologies from her.
The reason she was so quick to apologize was because of him.
Rayana found it difficult to deal with someone like the Duke—so different, so unpredictable.
“Now I see why your hands are like that.”
Crunch—she could hear the Duke grinding his teeth.
“My hands…?”
Rayana looked down at her own hands in confusion.
The Duke walked over and suddenly pulled off her glove.
Her exposed hands were rough with hardened calluses. The old scars had darkened, making her hands look almost inhuman.
Rayana thought her hand looked so shabby in front of him—not as big or thick as his, and certainly not beautiful.
With an annoyed expression, the Duke pointed at her palm.
“Here to here—it tore and reattached. But it healed wrong. That means you picked up a sword again before it was fully healed.”
That’s just how the streets were.
Memories Rayana had long buried returned.
Before being adopted by the Count, she had lived in a brothel.
Sleeping on the streets, scavenging for dropped food. When she got caught stealing, she was beaten nearly to death. To calm her hunger, she’d drink river water.
The worst part about street life was being born female.
She could never sleep deeply at night. No matter how well she hid, strange men always found her.
Still, Rayana considered herself lucky. Even before she knew what a sword was, she had talent. As long as she had a long stick, she could get through the night.
But the other kids weren’t as lucky.
Thinking about those children she had lived with on the streets, Rayana unconsciously clenched her fists.
But the Duke wouldn’t allow it. He opened her hand and drew a line across her fourth finger with his nail.
“This finger’s joint is misaligned. It gets in the way of fast movements.”
He was right. That finger always acted up when she let her focus slip, often causing her to lose grip during duels.
“And your hands overall—callused, scarred. The thicker your hands, the duller your senses. Without sensitive touch, you lose speed. That’s just how it goes.”
Everything he said was true.
Rayana kept nodding in agreement.
“A knight’s hands are essential. They must be properly cared for. You’ve been holding a sword wrong. You’ll relearn it from now on.”
“I understand.”
The Duke’s expression didn’t look pleased after he finished speaking. Rayana didn’t know why.
“Pick up your sword again.”
“Already down?”
Rayana quickly pushed herself up and raised her head.
The Duke stood in front of her, not a drop of sweat on his brow, not a trace of exhaustion on his face.
Then, her wooden sword hit the ground between her fingers.
“You just lost your wrist. Useless as a knight now.”
At his cold words, Rayana snapped to her senses.
She jumped up and grabbed her sword again with her uninjured hand.
She charged at the Duke once more, but he dodged her effortlessly.
“An ambidextrous fighter. Better adaptability than most. But…”
Just as she focused on his words, a moment of distraction was all he needed.
With a dull sound, their wooden swords collided—and hers broke. A shock reverberated through her wrist. It felt like being struck by a boulder.
“Training both hands takes more time and energy than focusing on one. Against a stronger opponent, you’ll inevitably lose. That was a poor judgment.”
The Duke spoke indifferently as Rayana stood frozen, staring at her broken sword.
His wooden blade now pointed directly at her neck.
