Deep wrinkles carved into the Count’s brow.
“You wish to revisit the Council’s points of contention, Your Excellency?”
Walter Richmond— no, Ares— shifted his upper body, which had been leaning lazily against the chair, toward the vassals. Sunlight, severed by a massive pillar, grazed the side of his chiseled features. Ares slowly pulled at the string of tension swirling through the hall, as though drawing back a rubber band. And when the string grew taut, he opened his mouth.
“I said it clearly. I vouch for Grace and her maid’s identities.”
“But the maids’ suicide notes…!”
“They were murdered, not suicides. Thus, the notes cannot serve as evidence. Yet you ignored my opinion and locked Grace in an underground solitary cell.”
When the Count missed his timing to respond, pushed back by the Duke’s momentum, the irate Count Isaac thundered.
“In Richmond Ducal Castle, you dare re-verify someone guaranteed by the master of the castle himself?! Locking her in an underground cell without even His Excellency’s permission— does this make any sense?!”
Then the Countess glared at Count Isaac and shouted fiercely.
“She conspired with the Unseen Ones, so we had no choice but to lock her in the underground cell! Your Excellency! Calm your anger and look at the situation clearly! We have found evidence!”
Ares tilted his head and asked languidly.
“You found evidence?”
“Yes, indeed!”
The moment the Countess shouted triumphantly, the Duke smiled as if by a lie. But it was such a fleeting smile that one wondered if they had truly seen it, and he murmured.
“Evidence… I am most curious what evidence could be more certain than my own guarantee.”
Ares lifted his chin and glared at the Count and Countess with razor-sharp eyes, commanding them.
“Bring Grace and the evidence. If the evidence you present is certain, I will behead her and display her head right here. But if it is not certain.”
Ares’s gaze swept across the Count and Countess’s necks like a leopard’s tongue. A chilling shiver crept up their napes.
“You will pay the price for your excessive zeal.”
Truly, blood will out.
Perhaps because his ancestors were all rulers, the Count’s palms grew damp at the momentum of the Duke, whom he had thought merely young and green. But the Countess only puffed out her chest further and widened her eyes.
Putting on a strong front is useless. That wench is surely out of her mind; in the end, her head will be cut off in this very place.
Just then, a murmuring came from behind them, as though the door had opened. The Count and Countess, who had been facing the Duke, reflexively gauged the Duke’s expression. His gaze was nailed to a point behind them, utterly unreadable.
The Countess desperately suppressed her breath, which was growing rough with excitement, and slowly turned her body.
The light beyond the open door was far more intense than the light within the dimly decorated hall, making it impossible to see the entering figures properly. It was backlit, and the light diffused so that even their silhouettes were hazy.
*Why is she quiet? If anything, I had hoped she would be loudly raving mad.*
The Countess waited, even forgetting to breathe, for the silhouettes to become clear.
*Please, please, let her be completely mad.* In truth, that would be better for Grace, too. She would greet death without even knowing she was dying.
As the backlight faded like spreading ink, her figure was revealed.
Her head tilted slightly, and the damp, chilly air of the underground brushed her cheek like a heat shimmer. A strange chill accompanied by the musty smell of mold and the peculiar stench unique to underground passages reminded her that this was reality. The Countess turned her head as if entranced, following the passing woman. Damp, clumped golden hair covered the woman’s back.
Sighs escaped from among the knightly families, from Crimson Isaac and those who knew her.
Ares quietly gazed at Grace, who had appeared deathly pale. Her golden hair, darkened by moisture, hung long over a cream-colored dress soiled in places. Her collarbones stood out even more after days of starvation, looking so fragile they might break under a single finger, and her blue-tinged lips also showed that her condition was far from good.
However, the eyes that met his were as clear as a cross-section of a forest in its densest summer, and her will was felt as intensely as her gaze.
*Catch the beast at the baited gate.*
Ares answered her will faithfully.
“Count Linko. The accused has arrived; now it is your turn. Bring the evidence that Grace is with the ‘Unseen Ones.’”
Count Linko, who had been glaring at his wife from behind, sighed sharply and walked right up to Grace’s side. He spoke in a rather angry voice.
“Your Excellency! The maids wrote suicide notes saying this woman was with the ‘Unseen Ones’ and then killed themselves! What clearer evidence could there be than this? However, since Your Excellency did not believe it, we had no choice but to find a witness.”
The Count clicked his tongue and turned sharply to look at Grace.
“We have found someone who knows this woman.”
Then the Countess, suddenly coming to her senses, chimed in.
“From start to finish, there wasn’t a single thing that wasn’t a lie. Even her name was false!”
When Grace slowly turned to look at her, the Countess snorted and shouted fiercely at her maid.
“Bring him in!”
When the Countess’s maid gestured toward the side door, a waiting soldier quickly opened the door.
His presence was felt through hearing before sight.
*Thud, stomp, —thud, stomp.*
The sound of metal striking the floor and heavy footsteps crossed over to them. At that distinctive gait, Crimson Isaac and the knights fixed their eyes on the side door.
Soon, a mysterious figure revealed himself through the opened side door.
*Thud, stomp, —thud, stomp.*
The man had an unusually thick neck. His build was such that his neck and thick shoulders appeared almost fused, but what drew the eye even more was his gait, as impressive as the sound. He limped severely. Beneath a worn gray cloak, his left foot and a metal rod were visible. He was a man without his right leg.
“Oh my, it’s hard for me to go the long way around with this leg of mine. Please step aside for a moment. Yes, yes, thank you.”
When he tried to push through the crowd of count-faction nobles with a hoarse, phlegmy voice, the nobles immediately fixed fierce eyes on him. But the man paid them no heed, and a commotion broke out. Meanwhile, the Count hid a smile and asked Crimson Isaac.
“Viscount Isaac. He claims he owes his life to the knights who were at the Wall of Death, and that you couldn’t possibly not know him. Is that right?”
Just then, the man who had pushed through the nobles approached, swaying unsteadily.
“Knights! It’s been a while! Wow, I’m so glad to see you like this.”
The Count put on a serious expression and pressed Crimson.
“Viscount, quickly tell us this man’s identity.”
“‘Iron Foot.’”
Before Crimson could answer, Ares spoke. The gazes that had been focused on Crimson all flowed toward the Duke at once. The man Ares had called ‘Iron Foot’ opened his eyes wide in exaggeration and offered a comical bow, as though imitating a gentleman.
“Your Excellency! To think you even know my name, I am deeply moved.”
Ares snorted and spoke sharply.
“Talking of gratitude. I went out of my way to save you when you should have been left to die, yet you know neither grace nor your place. Mad with greed, you lost a leg and an arm; as if that weren’t enough, now you’re determined to lose your head today as well.”
“Oh my, you truly are a man with not only a fierce gaze but a fierce tongue as well!”
“Show respect to His Excellency!!”
When Crimson shot up from his seat in anger, ‘Iron Foot’ hunched his already neckless form even further and exhaled a snort.
“I apologize. I am not being greedy, Your Excellency. I have simply come to testify to what I know.”
Ares wore a smile oscillating between cynicism and ridicule as he warned lowly.
“The crime of perjury is paid for with death. Do you know this?”
‘Iron Foot’ wiped away his theatrical expression completely and nodded. Then he turned to Grace and opened his mouth.
“What does it matter whether it’s perjury or whatever?”
Grace met his gleaming eyes.
“My body may be like this, but at least my eyes are still good.”
‘Iron Foot’ smirked and called out to her as though greeting a long-lost niece.
“Long time no see, Vicky. Have you been well? You impudent little wench, if you’re seeing your uncle after so long, you should be the one to say ‘Hello?’ first.”
Flora bit down hard on the soft flesh inside her mouth, feeling as though laughter would burst out. Then she whispered as quietly as possible to the maids standing behind her.
“Did you hear? Her name is ‘Vicky.’”
“She called herself Grace— I suppose she wanted to pretend to be a noble.”
Flora looked at the Duke.
“How devastated he must be.”
‘Iron Foot’ swayed as he approached Grace, waving his thick index finger wildly right in front of her nose.
“You’ve been lying through your teeth since you were little, and even after becoming an adult, you couldn’t fix that habit and finally went and did something like this!! Where are your manners, running your mouth like that!!”
The Count stepped forward as though the time was ripe, pointing at ‘Iron Foot.’
“This man here is a merchant who travels all over the Empire selling goods. They say there is no place he hasn’t been, from the capital of Dekhan to Richmond here, and even the villages near the Wall of Death.”
‘Iron Foot’ puffed out his shoulders proudly.
“This is already a verified fact, and I believe Your Excellency is aware of it as well.”
When Ares gestured for him to continue, the Count resumed his speech.
“As Richmond’s vassal, I had to verify the identities of all who enter and leave the castle. The same was true for Your Excellency’s lover. But while making inquiries, I came across someone who knew about Your Excellency’s lover.”
At the Count’s signal, ‘Iron Foot,’ who had been waiting for his cue to cut in, opened his mouth.
“As I listened, I thought of none other than Vicky. Heheh, I know this girl’s parents.”