The moment he stepped beyond the open door, he felt the air of the cold corridor and the somewhat warm interior of the hall intermingle. Edward raised his gaze from the floor. And the instant his eyes met that man’s, Edward realized.
That his and his father’s wishes had scattered like the wind.
Despite the distance where his features were not clearly visible, his presence was intense. Even the magnificent tapestry hanging behind him could not overwhelm his presence.
Was it because of his towering stature, or his strikingly handsome features that would draw admiration even from another man? Rather than that, it seemed to be the aura he exuded.
The closer he approached him, the drier Edward’s mouth became. Then, when he stopped before the dais and looked up at him, the Duke opened his mouth.
“Viscount Edward Rinko.”
As if enchanted by something, Edward knelt on his left knee.
Ares quietly watched him as he knelt. The Count and Countess were restless at the sight, but Edward waited in that very posture for the Duke’s words.
“I hear you went to the Taylor Ducal residence in my stead. You must have had an arduous journey traveling so far.”
“Not at all, Your Grace. I merely did what had to be done.”
“Rise.”
Only then did Edward rise from his place. Ares stared intently into Edward’s gray-brown eyes. A son who had offered the courtesy of a vassal, which even his parents had omitted.
“Viscount, there is something you must verify for me.”
Edward’s eyebrows twitched as if he could not fathom the meaning, but he soon nodded.
“If my verification is required, then it is only right that I provide it.”
Ares pulled his lips into a smile. As he wore a smile that could bewitch even an envoy of death, he turned his gaze somewhere. Edward, who had been watching Ares, naturally turned his head to follow his gaze.
Where their gazes stopped, a woman who did not suit this hall at all stood suddenly. A white dress dirtied here and there as if she had suffered hardships, and blonde hair disheveled without care….
“…?!”
Edward’s pupils narrowed slightly before widening greatly. Though she looked quite different from the last time he had seen her, he could not fail to recognize that distinctive blonde hair and deep green eyes.
“No, why….”
Just then, his mother pointed her index finger at her and shrieked shrilly.
“Eddie, didn’t you say you didn’t like that kind of woman?!”
“…Mother?!”
A chill ran down Edward’s spine. But the desperate Countess failed to notice her son’s reaction.
“It’s excessive to struggle however you can just to survive. How dare you, not knowing your place, mention my son!!!”
“Mother!!!”
As Edward shouted, trying to cover his mother’s mouth, an elegant voice overlapped with his.
“I had wished to apologize for making even Lady Taylor take an unnecessary journey all the way here, and yet here we meet. Viscount Rinko.”
As Grace took a step toward Edward, the Countess’s eyes went wide as she alternated her gaze between Grace and her son. Her shock reached its peak when Grace extended her right hand toward the son she deemed most precious in the world.
“…What are you doing?”
Despite the Countess’s hollow question, Grace’s pupils were as cold and silent as a winter sea. Facing her quiet gaze, Edward felt that the one who had summoned him might not have been the Duke, but Grace.
Why she was here, who had reduced Lady Taylor to such a state, why….
Putting aside the questions that felt like a swamp, Edward had no choice but to press his lips to the back of Grace’s hand.
The Countess’s feelings, having witnessed the son she would not regret giving his life for pressing his lips to the back of Grace’s hand, were beyond words. Not only she, but also the Count was at a loss for words, and Flora, who had been watching the situation from afar, merely blinked with her mouth half-open.
“What in the world….”
The Countess stared at Grace with eyes swaying like a ship caught in a storm. Grace, who had ruthlessly shaken her, delivered the same answer once more in an exceedingly calm tone.
“I kept telling you, Countess.”
“…….”
“I am Grace, and Jessie and I cannot be ‘the Unseen.’”
Edward felt his heart plummet and then race. When he instinctively looked back at the Duke, he too was watching the situation with deeply sunken eyes. Edward felt an indescribable fear toward the man standing stock-still.
Grace took a step toward the Countess. From within her eyes, which had seemed tranquil, a threatening flame surged up as if to incinerate the Countess.
“The child who came with me is named Jessie Molton. Her father was a knight of the Taylor Ducal family, which held a title, and he returned as ashes after protecting my parents until the very end. By ‘the Unseen,’ that is.”
Taylor? Why was that house’s name coming up?
The Count-faction nobles stirred all at once, and the Countess grabbed her son’s arm tightly.
“Eddie… Eddie?!”
Edward gritted his molars and whispered heavily.
“Stop it, Mother. She is Lady Taylor.”
It was a terrible thing to say.
The Countess could not believe what her ears had heard. Lady Taylor?
She dropped her son’s arm and shook her head.
“That can’t be.”
Edward quickly stepped to shield his mother from the gazes of the Duke and Grace.
“Mother, please.”
Though Edward stopped her with a strained voice, the Countess could not possibly step back. She had come too far to turn back now. The Countess forced a smile and spoke to her son.
“You must have misunderstood something. Lady Taylor?! Look at that woman’s state, how could she be Lady Taylor….”
The Countess’s sharp words trailed off and broke as they gradually faded.
*My hair comes from my father, my eyes from my mother. And I, I resemble my father more than my mother. Just as my ancestors always have.*
The Countess’s gaze reached the long, flowing blonde hair.
Taylor of the Golden Wheat Fields. Was it not said that the people of that house were born with vivid blonde hair, as if gold had been imprinted on their heads from birth? A slight tremor struck the corners of the Countess’s eyes.
Watching his mother, Edward’s mind turned white. Before they were driven into an even deeper corner, he had to hurry and escort his mother out of the hall.
This place was a massive trap laid by the Duke and Lady Grace.
“Your Grace, my mother does not look well. Forgive me, but we shall take our leave….”
“I have slept too long.”
Before Edward’s urgent words could even finish, a voice as cold and heavy as lead was heard from somewhere.
“My sleep has been too long.”
Though it was not a very loud voice, the reason the words seemed to drive themselves into one’s ears was due to the clear pronunciation unique to someone who had been thoroughly educated from the moment they began to learn to speak.
At her distinctive way of speaking—once distinguished among noble ladies as ‘high speech’ and spread like a trend—the faces of the aged Count-faction nobles darkened.
Click, click.
The sound of hard shoe heels shook the air of the hall, whose density had increased with tension. And moments later, she appeared at the edge of the massive tapestry depicting Richmond.
Her waist and shoulders, straight without a bend just like her crisp, clear pronunciation, her fluid movements as if water were flowing—everything was the same. Only the plain black dress reminiscent of mourning clothes, and her hair that had turned silvery-white, were different.
But whether her appearance was the same or changed, such things were not important. What was important was that the Queen of Richmond had appeared before people for the first time in over a decade. At her entrance, the nobles of the knight houses rose from their seats in unison, and the Count-faction nobles likewise had no choice but to rise as well.
As Ares approached and politely offered his hand, the nobles bowed in unison with courtesy. Grace also paid her respects to Eliza, and Edward respectfully bowed his head. But the Count and Countess merely stood stock-still, only staring at Eliza.
When anger frosted over in Eliza’s eyes as she ascended the dais holding Ares’s hand, the couple, coming to their senses, belatedly offered their greetings. At the fiercely upturned black eyes of the old noblewoman, the corner of Ares’s mouth faintly rose and fell, as if visible yet not.
“Duke. This old woman’s legs are uncomfortable, so I must sit. Bring me a chair as well.”
“There is no need for that, Grandmother.”
Ares guided her to the Duke’s chair.
“Please, sit. I, with my sturdy legs, shall stand for a while.”
Eliza let out a short laugh at the words that sounded brazen, but then suddenly held her breath at a pain that pierced the center of her chest. Looking at the chair that ‘Walter’ should have sat in, her heart felt as if it would tear apart. But she could no longer wallow in helplessness.
“Then so be it.”
Eliza elegantly turned her body and slowly sat in the massive chair. As the Queen’s maid took her place on the left, Ares stood firmly on the right with his hands clasped behind his back.
Eliza slowly swept her gaze over the retainers standing like sharp spears. Some were expressionless, some appeared flustered, and yet others were holding back tears with reddened eyes. The gaze that had brushed past Grace, standing demurely, continued to the descendant of the house that had once been most trustworthy.
Eliza stared intently at the Count and Countess before closing her eyes. Then, after exhaling a long breath, she called out to him.
“Henry Rinko.”
“…Yes, Grand Lady.”
“Recite the oath of fealty.”