It was the day of Wykenight's envoy's departure.
The siblings were present in their half-assed clothes—all pants, no hint of any hanash designs—just their usual attire that had started to feel normal. They were standing on the frozen porch of the Castle's main door. Rhys leaned against a pillar, arms crossed. Marcus stood still, while Kaelen and Lia bickered about something.
"We thank you for your hospitality these past few days. I hope the dowry of His Grace helped you in any way, Your Grace, Your Lordships," Jill said, bowing his head.
There was only one carriage left, bearing Wykenight's crest, and knights with their horses.
"Yeah, it was good stuff, but we'd appreciate if it's money—" Rhys wasn't able to finish his words when Lia simply stepped on his foot.
"Lord Jill, I have something to give you," Lia said, then walked down to him. She reached inside her coat and handed him a scroll. "I beg of you, please sell the townhouse. We badly need it, and that scroll is a letter of my consent with my personal seal and Javier's crest."
Lord Jill looked at the scroll for a second and took it. Is Her Grace really not using any trace of Wykenight in this legal document? "I surely will, Your Grace. You will hear from me in no long moment," he said and smiled.
Lia just nodded and smiled warmly—an expression he'd never seen on her during their time back in the Capital. The trace of the spoiled and always-grumpy noble princess was now gone, replaced by this woman in her comfortable tactical pants and shirt. Only the expensive coat she wore was a sign she was a noble.
Dietre then just came out and stopped in front of Jill. "I am not leaving with you."
His words hung in the air.
Lia and Rhys weren't surprised, as they'd kind of played a part in it yesterday.
"My Lord, whatever do you mean?" Jill asked.
"I said I am not leaving with you. I am going to stay here for a while." Dietre shoved his hands into his pockets. "Just tell Mother and Father I can handle myself here, and for brother… meh, who cares about his opinion."
Kaelen snorted and nodded his head in approval at that disrespect. "I'll give five points for that."
Jill sighed in resignation. He knew the reason Dietre wouldn't leave: he was the type not to leave his questions unanswered or his curiosity unsatisfied. He was still that troublesome young master. "The North is nothing like the West, My Lord. The right season right now is Summer, but it is freezing cold here, and we were only a hundred miles away from each other," he said. "Not to say, they are still hardly—no offense—"
"None taken. Not that we care about your criticism," Rhys said.
"…to come by. And their enemy here is no closer to what we have back in the West. You don't know what's coming, and that's what we learned here in a few days. The North is unpredictable."
"Well, the territory has to match its rulers, no?" Kaelen said again, which made him and Rhys grin.
Lia and Marcus remained silent.
"It's fine. They always nag me back there anyway, because I'm also uncertain about what to do with my life. It's not like I can outshine my brave, perfect brother. I guess I'll stick around here for a bit longer," Dietre said, shrugging his shoulders.
"Then, is it alright with Their Lordships and Her Grace?" Jill glanced at the siblings behind him.
"It's fine by me, as long as he can survive one meal a day. We're fasting right now, you see," Lia said.
"I have no problem with it. As long as he doesn't cause trouble," Marcus said.
"See? They're cool with it," Dietre said.
Jill then leaned in and whispered, "You know the brothers have a deep grudge against the Duke, right? Your brother."
"Hey, I know that already," Dietre said. And that is one of the reasons I have to find out why.
"Fine. You're not going to change your mind anyway. Here, at least—" Dietre shoved Jill's hand away when he was handing him the orb.
"I will contact you by letter. No orbs. And we barely get good signal here anyway," Dietre said.
Then Jill just nodded. "I will be leaving, then."
Before he stepped into the carriage, he turned to them once more. "Please take care of my lord. I beg of you."
"Ugh! You sound like an annoying mother who can't let go of her grown-ass son," Rhys grunted.
"Don't worry," Lia said.
Her words felt like an assurance to Jill, and for the last time, he bowed.
When he got in the carriage and it moved away, with the knights trailing slowly, they left the grand courtyard of the Castle.
"Well, Dietre. You are a freeloader." Kaelen started as soon as the sight of those envoys vanished.
"I know, Lord Kaelen. I am willing to help with anything I can," Dietre said.
"You don't have to say that. I already have a perfect task for you."
"Then, I will be going back to the study. Follow me when you are done with your hazing," Marcus said and left them.
"Hazing?" Dietre asked. The word felt foreign.
"You seriously doing that to a kid? A kid from Jesus-times?" Lia said.
"Come on, this kid is the same age as you," Kaelen said.
"Whatever it is, I am willing to do it," Dietre said.
"Dude… you are going to reg—eh, who cares, I tried to care. Then good luck with it," Rhys also walked back into the castle, waving a bored hand.
"Then, don't get too harsh with him, Les. That kid might be toughened up, but his body's still adjusting to this season and food." Lia then tapped his shoulder. "I want to save you… but, this is for your own survival." She also left.
Kaelen and Dietre were left. Why are they acting like I am about to go to war? Dietre thought.
Then Kaelen gripped his shoulder, grinning. "You ready, Roux?"
"'Roux'?" Dietre asked in confusion.
"That is your Northerner name. Trying to calm my irritation at remembering you're that bastard's brother. You should be grateful you look different from him," Kaelen said. "Let's go, Roux. Both of us rule the battlements and soldiers, you know."
[ADMIN B: ISN'T THAT 'REDHAIRED' IN YOUR NATIVE LANGUAGE? YOU FRENCH.]
SHUT UP YOU DON'T BELONG IN THIS CONVERSATION.
[ADMIN B: TSK! MEANIE!]
✎﹏﹏﹏﹏
Lia went to the dark corner to visit the wolves.
"Your Grace!" Cris popped out of nowhere, startling her.
"You better not do that if I'm holding a weapon," Lia said with an already exasperated look.
"Don't be so mean. Anyway, Your Grace, come." Cris guided her to the corridor, with all its lights on. The cell partitions had been removed. One entire row of cells was full of straw, with the wolf pups having a good time. In the other hall lay the older ones.
"The ones housed by the warriors and prime wolves are in the next corridor, Your Grace," Cris explained.
Then a walking old wolf saw them. "Liana," she called with a smile. "It's good you came to visit us."
"Hello there, Elder Yestera. I came to see how you were doing."
"We are doing well, dear. As you can see, the little ones are enjoying the peace these past few days…" she said, glancing at the playing pups.
"I'm sure this underground feels cramped," Lia said. "Please bear with it for a while."
"What are you saying, dear? We couldn't be more thankful. We are doing well and fine here," Yestera said.
"I know. However, I am already scouting a place just inside the castle's territory for you to settle. We'll be starting on it along with the relocation of the citizens, too," Lia said.
Yestera looked at her with amusement and respect, gently patting Lia's head with her giant paw. "The Ruler of the Chained-Eclipse. You truly deserve that title."
Eclipse? Was she referring to the crest?
"Oh please, it doesn't feel earned. Not yet."
Cris just smiled, and soon pups almost as big as his waist came running around him as if he were already familiar to them.
"Uncle Cris!"
"Don't call him uncle, you moron!"
"But he is older than us!"
Lia just laughed while Cris tried to stop the fight.
"That Cris lad used to tremble at us at first, but look at him now, all warm with the children…" Yestera said.
"Tell me about it. It's good he's settled with you guys down here." Lia agreed.
「WESTERN DUKEDOM—WYKENIGHT CASTLE」
Alistair was sitting in his study, his head lolled back against the chair, staring at the ceiling. His fingers tapped frantically on the armrest.
"Dude…" he repeated. It was the words of Eliana from yesterday.
"Your Grace?" Captain Elias called. He was the captain of Wykenight's private knights, first platoon.
"What is 'dude,' Captain?" Alistair asked without breaking his posture.
What's with His Grace? I've been telling him the report on Malcorian first squad's platoon silence.
"I don't know either, Your Grace," Elias said.
"My wife…" Alistair murmured.
His wife? Was he talking about Lady Eliana? Did he eat something bad? He never mentioned her before. Let alone address her as his wife.
"What about Her Grace?" Elias asked.
Alistair sat up, placed his elbows on the desk, and clasped his hands as if he were about to say something serious. "How many in the entire Empire have silver hair?"
What the hell is he saying now?
"Well, only the Wykenight bloodline. Why do you ask, your grace?"
"Is it possible for your wife to not recognize you, even if the line is a little… sort of… distorted?" Alistair asked. His face wasn't its usual cold, stern expression; he was showing more emotion right now. For one, he looked confused.
"I can even recognize my wife's footsteps," Elias said.
"Are you bragging right now?" Alistair asked, looking pissed.
"I dare not, my lord. I am just saying even if the line is distorted, I would be able to recognize my wife. Unless the other barely cares about their spouse… It is entirely possible. It happens more with those in politically arranged marriages, loveless ones, and those who don't spend time together. It's more like they are already divorced physically, and only the law is the one chaining them to each other." Elias blabbered, everything spilling from his mouth before he realized he could see the invisible, looming darkness gathering around Alistair.
Oh… did I just describe His Grace's marriage? Am I dead?
"So, you're saying… I am practically divorced from my wife? Don't be stupid. A marriage officiated by the Emperor—the descendant of the Great Sun—is impossible to divorce. My marriage is practically sacred," Alistair said.
"Is that why you were so comfortable leaving the day after your marriage and not seeing your wife for a year, Your Grace?" Elias shot back. "Not that I am trying to pry into your marriage business, but Your Grace, even if you are busy here on the frontline… aren't you neglecting Her Grace a bit much?"
"Or is it that you just saw marrying her as another order from His Majesty?" Alistair broke the quill in two, making Elias bite his lower lip. "I mean… haha, everyone has their own story. I better go back to the tent." Elias then ran away from the study, which felt like a place where the person who owned it might kill him at any moment.
Then a knock came at his door. When it opened and he saw it was Jill who entered, his posture straightened.
"You're back," Alistair said, trying to right his tone.
What's with him? Is he going to be dramatic? I've had enough with the madness of Javier siblings.
"Yes. It took a bit longer, as the temple at the capital was being naggy about the teleportation fee to the West," Jill said. "Well, I don't have any good news for you."
"What?" Alistair's tone became colder, throwing sharp stares his way.
"First, regarding Lord Dietre. He stayed behind. I have no words for what came to his mind," said Jill.
"THAT INSOLENT BRAT. I KNEW HE WAS UP TO NO GOOD," Alistair roared.
If he's like this about the Dietre matter, how much more for the crazy bit coming up?
"I will tell you everything now, and I swear on my family's name, Teleston, and to the Great Sun, that I say nothing but the truth," Jill said. "When we arrived in the North, as initially reported, Her Grace and the Lordships were absent. At first, the ones left tried to hide their real location from us, until we overheard them talking about the Javier suicide mission."
Alistair's delicate, beautiful eyes narrowed. "Suicide mission?"
"Yes. They went to the very place they are defending the North against. The Void-Rot Forest." Jill's words felt absurd to Alistair. "We couldn't believe it either. Until we witnessed it ourselves—them pulling back from inside it with injured wolves. That is the reason they dove into that hell: to rescue the silver wolves."
"You're saying they stupidly put their lives on the line for mere wolves?" Alistair asked.
"They are not mere wolves, Your Grace. They're big. Bigger than me or you. Not only that, they… speak. However, I have no explanation for that; the Javiers' are too secretive regarding them. They are indeed doing their best to revive the North. They are repairing walls, enforcing one-meal rations for the citizens, hiring their own people for labor. They are competent in their own ways… even Lady Eliana."
"I have too many questions right now, but 'Lady Eliana'? Did you forget your respect in the North, Lord Jill, addressing your Duchess with such familiarity?" Alistair's voice was a blade.
Jill flinched. "I'm… forgive me, Your Grace…" he said, bowing. "Anyway, Her Grace gave me this." He then gently placed the scroll on the desk. It's not like Her Grace cares about titles anyway, tsk.
"What is this?" Alistair asked.
"It is Her Grace's consent to sell the townhouse. They indeed badly need the funds," Jill said.
Alistair untied the ribbon and unscrolled it. The delicate penmanship was the same as the letters she used to send until two months ago… but then his brows furrowed upon seeing the seal.
The Javier crest. White daffodils, her personal seal, and her birth month. And the name ticked him off the most… "Eliana Javier W.," he read.
Geez. There's a trace after all. Just a 'W,' though. Jill's thought
"Sell that goddamn townhouse for all I care," Alistair said, the edges of the scroll now crumpled in his grip.
"T-then… I will get to it."
"How much do you think it will fetch?" Alistair asked.
"Uhm… it has never been used, so 2.5 million golds, still," Jill said.
"Send that amount to the North tomorrow," Alistair said, keeping the scroll in his drawer.
"Pardon? I haven't found a buyer for it yet," Jill said, confused.
"Are you stupid? I am buying it," Alistair said.
"Why?" Jill asked, bewildered. It's not like he cares about Her Grace. If he did, he wouldn't have just left her alone. He didn't even make an effort to have her move into the Capital manor, letting her stay at the palace.
"You said they are in dire need. Looking for a buyer will take too long with all the stupid paperwork," Alistair stated. "I am doing this as a considerate spouse."
"Or you're just being sentimental…" Jill murmured, almost a blabber.
"What was that?" Alistair
"Nothing, Your Grace"
"Anyway, did my wife ask for me?" Alistair's question made Jill relive his time in the North.
'My wife'? Nope. Not once. Some folks didn't even know she was married. Jill's mind
"It's not like you care, Your Grace," Jill said, trying to laugh it off as Alistair's expression turned grim again. "Come on, let's not pry into something that will just fuel the fire. Her Grace might seem different physically and in personality, but she is faring well. Far better than when she was stuck in the castle in a ballroom gown." Jill's face seemed to soften then, which made Alistair's insides curl even tighter.
"Her Grace is… warmer in that frozen place. She is not the one who used to give me headaches by purchasing ridiculous gowns worth thousands of gold each." He spoke as if reminiscing.
Alistair once again snapped the already-broken quill, which left Jill confused. What the heck is this man's problem?
"Get out. I will hear the rest later, your face pissed me off" Alistair said, turning his chair away from Jill.
Jill's brow raised in confusion, Seriously, what is this man's problem? He is not even asking if we eat properly there or if we are not frozen to death. Tsk. I want to go back to the Capital. Argh.
Jill just bowed and left.
With the click of the door, Alistair closed his eyes and breathed out heavily.
"So she never once sought me? Like she never bombarded me with letters before?" he murmured.
Jill's had more time with her than I have, and he could fucking make that nostalgic face and talk about how much she's changed.
Fuck. What the hell am I so worked up for? Do I really start to care about her now, when I never even bothered for a year?
"What the fuck is this unsettling feeling in my chest? Is it the fact that she acts like I don't exist? Or is my pride just acting up?"
"Fuck." He massaged his forehead. "This is a fucking headache."
The silence in the study was absolute. It was the quiet after a tactical blunder, the kind that left you gutted.
A year of ignoring her, and now her silence was a weapon he hadn't seen coming. The spoiled princess he'd left behind was supposed to be a static, manageable problem. An obligation.
Now the reports painted someone else entirely. A woman who fought in hell-forests, commanded strange wolves, and built a life in the freezing ruins of the North with a ruthless pragmatism that matched his own.
And she hadn't asked for him. Not once.
It wasn't about love. It was the sheer, professional efficiency of her indifference. He was a master of strategic neglect, and she had just outmaneuvered him.
The Duke sat alone in the dark, haunted by a new kind of enemy: the peaceful, complete absence of a wife who had simply moved the fuck on.
—To Be Continued…—