He had no choice but to admit it. In mere days, Grace had earned the goodwill of the knights—something Walter had only managed to obtain after years of swinging his sword at the very front. Of course, it hadn't reached the point of sworn oaths of loyalty.
The incident where she had saved Andrew without giving up until the very end, even when her own life was in danger, must have been the greatest turning point.
But that wasn't all. She smiled at the appropriate moments, expressed her gratitude, and committed to memory the names of all those she had exchanged greetings with. It was a kindness and an unpretentiousness unbecoming of a young lady who had lived her whole life being doted upon as a high noble.
Unlike the dark navy cotton dress she had worn throughout, she was now in an elegant cream-colored gown. Her hair, braided up—perhaps styled by a maid named Jessie—was as neat as a bride fresh from her wedding ceremony. Upright like the very essence of the dignity and etiquette so revered by the aristocracy, yet appearing so frail and delicate—who could possibly be wary of such a woman?
A blade concealed within a beautiful scabbard.
That was Walter's impression of Grace. The problem was that even he kept forgetting she was someone as sharp as a blade.
"Your Grace."
At the soft call, as if addressing a lover, he felt an odd tingle at the nape of his neck.
In the meantime, Grace approached his side and gazed down at the foot of the mountain where he had been looking. Walter, too, turned his head to follow her gaze. There stood the historic and magnificent castle of the Duke of Richmond. The eagle coat of arms upon the flag fluttering at the castle's peak was clearly visible. Both of their expressions turned cold at the same time.
After gazing at the castle for a moment, Grace asked.
"Are you afraid?"
"Ha!"
When Walter laughed sharply, Grace burst into laughter as well.
"Are you not the one who is afraid?"
A particularly resonant, low voice. Thinking that even if she listened from afar with her eyes closed, she would recognize Walter's voice immediately, Grace spoke brightly.
"How could I be? However... I believe it is time we addressed this properly."
Walter slowly turned to look at Grace, but she was still gazing down at the foot of the mountain.
"You must not treat me so distantly any longer."
"How much more affectionately do you wish me to treat you?"
"Grace."
She faced him. Her eyes, holding the sunlight, sparkled like stars.
"Please call me Grace."
"..."
"Walter."
His name coming from Grace's lips was as sweet as her eyes, which were like ripe green grapes.
From the moment memory existed, he had been immersed in the struggle for survival. He had lived until now with the acute feeling that if he let his guard down even for a moment, he would be pushed off a cliff. Affection, love—such things were too distant for him to even consider reaching for, so why did they come so easily to this woman?
Then, a look of displeasure settled between Grace's brows.
"If you say this much is difficult, we have a problem."
Her slight shake of the head and sidelong glance seemed as though she were looking at someone unreliable. To Walter, who had accomplished everything perfectly by pouring all his strength into it until now, it even felt as if his own abilities were being doubted.
"At least try until Richmond is in our hands. I, too, have no intention of doing anything half-heartedly."
Her gentle voice pierced into his ears. Having said all she needed to say, Grace turned toward the carriage. Walter's gaze followed her.
For the past ten days, he had done nothing but watch Grace.
*'You just have to love me.'*
He had thought such a thing couldn't possibly be difficult, yet the closer they drew to Richmond, the less he understood how.
How was he to appear as though he loved her? If he loved her, how would he want to treat her?
Thoughts connecting love and Grace inevitably reminded him of the warmth that had spread across his lips, the sensation of slender arms wrapping around his nape. Walter's eyes sank as deep as an abyss.
Finally, as if having made a decision, he followed Grace. With large strides, he quickly caught up to her and grasped her wrist just as she was about to board the carriage.
"?!"
He gently pulled her, who turned around in surprise. Taking Grace's hand, Walter walked ahead. Just as Grace was wondering what on earth this behavior was, a massive warhorse appeared before her eyes. Seeing her eyes widen in surprise, Walter smiled despite himself. Grace looked at him blankly and asked.
"Does this mean I am to enter the castle held in Your Grace's arms?"
"Did you not tell me to love you before the eyes of all?"
"..."
"Why, would this much be difficult?"
It was exactly what she had just said. As Grace habitually composed her expression, Walter tilted his head and spoke.
"Then pardon me for a moment."
Contrary to his polite words, the strength with which he swept her up by the waist was astounding. In an instant, Grace found herself astride Walter's steed. Without even needing to struggle for balance, Walter climbed up behind her and enclosed her with his entire body. Her right back and shoulder pressed against his chest, and she felt goosebumps rise at her ear. Perhaps feeling the tension she had unwittingly put into her body, he whispered.
"Relax. It's more comfortable for us both that way."
The knights stared with eyes wide enough to pop out of their sockets, yet quickly mounted their horses and followed behind Walter. Jessie, who had been left alone in the carriage, quietly watched Grace nestled in Walter's embrace. She had expected to feel bitter upon seeing such a sight... but her heart was calmer than she thought.
"Well, it's much better than seeing her being scorned by those worthless bastards."
Jessie's muttering melted away into the cold air.
* * *
Grace's awkwardness gradually faded with time. The world seen from atop a tall horse was different from that seen inside a carriage.
Past the dense forest, a vast plain unfolded. The castle of the House of the Duke of Richmond, master of the northwest, stood like an island in the middle of the vast plain. Surrounded by a moat so deep and wide it could be mistaken for a river, the castle resembled a natural fortress, and its roofs rose sharply, as if embodying sharpness itself.
A crowd had lined up on the bridge connecting the castle to the land beyond the moat to welcome the duke's return.
However, the person standing at the very front looked at the approaching Walter as if glaring, back and neck ramrod straight, without bowing. The woman beside him was the same. At their demeanor, as if a host were welcoming a guest, both Grace and Walter's lips curved upward simultaneously.
They had the exact same thought.
*Interesting. So this is the shamelessness of thieves.*
Grace tilted her eyes and whispered to Walter.
"They appear to be Count and Countess Rinco."
Walter also smiled coldly and asked her.
"Ready to fight, Grace?"
Instead of answering, Grace rested her head against his firm chest. Yet her gaze remained fixed on the count and countess standing upon the bridge. Even from afar, she could see their eyes widening like lanterns. Smiling as if shy, she answered in an unwavering voice like a warrior facing battle.
"Of course."
I have been waiting for this day all along.
* * *
"Brother, I'm so scared."
A woman in a lovely pink dress whined in an equally lovely voice. At that, the man leading her toward the castle's main gate let out a shallow sigh. Turning to the woman, he put on a deliberately stern expression.
"Flora."
Flora tilted her round eyes and made a tearful face.
"I heard that His Grace the Duke goes around killing demonic beasts like an evil spirit. No matter if they are demonic beasts, they are precious lives, brother. My heart aches so much that I cannot kill even a single mosquito. You know that, don't you?"
"...Flora."
"How can I marry someone so frightening? Sob... I'm so scared."
As she shook her head slightly, her pretty pink hair swayed along. Flora, the beloved daughter of Count Rowen, a vassal of the House of Richmond, was the princess of the northwestern social circle. She was so popular that there was no young nobleman who did not admire her, and all the young ladies imitated her behavior. Even dresses that seemed excessively lovely suited her as if they had been made for her.
Just then, a maid fixing a disheveled hair ornament behind Flora accidentally pulled a few strands of her hair.
"Ow!"
"I'm sorry, my lady!"
The maid quickly bowed her head, but irritation instantly spread across Flora's face. She touched her hair with her hand and then looked down at the back of the maid's head with contempt.
"How is it... that these girls can never do anything properly?"
"I'm sorry..."
"Is arranging hair difficult? Hey, don't come from tomorrow. Brother, send her to the stables."
"A-My lady...!"
The maid called out to her with tears, but Flora moved her steps as if annoyed.
"Yes, yes, compose yourself. It seems the Duke has already arrived at the bridge. Hurry."
"Really. Sob..."
"There's nothing to be afraid of. The Duke will fall head over heels for you too. Is there any man in Richmond who doesn't love you?"
The most beloved Flora in Richmond. That was her pride. Sometimes she even ensnared the fiancés of close friends, but that was merely due to the foolishness of men, not Flora's fault. Loveliness was her weapon.
Flora pressed the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief and followed her brother. Amidst the sound of trumpets, people made way for the siblings.
As they reached the main gate, receiving the admiring gazes of the people, a wind blew from outside the castle. Mixed in the wind was the smell of horses. Flora's brow furrowed involuntarily.
Since Hetbi rose to power alongside the Empress, the treatment of knights was not as it had been. Especially within the current territory of the Duke of Richmond, it would not be an exaggeration to say that knights were scorned.
Flora, too, did not think well of knights. By her standards, knights who made their living with nothing but their bodies were no different from laboring commoners. Not to mention the savagery of taking lives and seeing blood.
So no matter that he was a duke, the Duke who had led the knights and roamed the Wall of Death was thoroughly displeasing to her. He must certainly be ruggedly fierce and savage.
"......!"
However, upon discovering the Duke of Richmond, Flora soon froze.