Chapter 5

Victor and Clara nodded at the same time. Angela was the center of the family. She was far better than Victor in both looks and swordsmanship, but that didn’t mean her husband was unskilled.

Before receiving the title of Grand Duke, Victor came from a modest family with unique sword-fighting abilities. They had great pride in their swordsmanship, even though they had no reputation and had to wander around as mercenaries. Victor could hold a sword before he could walk and was an excellent knight.

Angela, on the other hand, came from an indigenous northern tribe and was incredibly strong. She was greater than Victor in many ways, but that wasn’t the only reason she was the center of the family. Everyone loved and respected her, including her husband. He was more than happy to defer to her in all domestic squabbles because of his love for her. Pulling out a dagger she kept in her boot, Angela cut the letter open.

Clara clung to her side. “So?”

“What does it say?” Victor asked as he approached, his eyes lighting up.

The father and daughter duo were equally eager to find out. Angela responded only with an ominous silence. With wide eyes and her jaw dropped open, she held the letter to her chest. Tears began to well up in her eyes as her lips trembled.

“Oh my goodness!”

“Oh my goodness?”

“Did they say they won’t send her?” Clara asked.

Angela gave no response. She looked dazed, like she had just awoken from a deep sleep.

“My dear!”

“Mother!”

Victor and Clara cried in frustration.

Coming back to her senses, Angela urgently said, “Paper! I need paper! And the fastest hawk we have!”

“A hawk?”

“We need to write back immediately,” Angela said.

“Why? What is it? Did something happen to Isabella?” the duke asked with a mournful look.

Angela shook her head. “She... accepted the proposal!”

“Yay!” Clara squealed, bouncing up and down.

Her joyous shout shook the castle, but Victor didn’t scold her. How could he when he was jumping for joy himself? The three hugged each other as they remembered their happier days.

***

“Mother! Father! Lady Clara!”

Isabella had a bright smile on her face. She had come to the drawbridge to welcome the family, riding the horse that Cleor had tamed himself.

“Isabella! I told you horses are dangerous!”

Upon seeing Isabella, Cleor suddenly leaped forward from the rear of the cart. Too scared to let her dismount, he lifted her off of the horse.

“I’m fine now. I can ride on my own,” she had protested.

“No. I won’t let you ride without me!” Cleor replied, hugging her tightly.

She squirmed in his arms.

“Everyone’s watching...” she whispered, her cheeks turning pink like a peach.

“Get out of the way! Let me talk to Isabella! Isabella, Isabella, Isabella! I collected some firebull dung, as promised! Look!”

Clara pointed to a cart that was filled to the brim with a red, muddy substance.

“Oh, really? Goodness! Thank you so much, Lady Clara.”

Victor, Angela, and Cleor felt a rising sense of uneasiness as Isabella shifted her attention to Clara. Everyone started talking about what they had brought, without saying a word about the conquest of the Forest of Anguish.

This was only possible because the forest was no longer a dark and hostile land full of death—now, it was a lush, abundant land teeming with life. Demonic beasts no longer attacked the villages, so the people no longer had to go out and defeat them. And this peace had all started with Isabella.

***

Cleor was on his way back from fighting demonic beasts early in the morning. Strangely enough, there seemed to be more of them this year. Usually, demonic beasts were most disruptive in the late winter when they started running out of food, but winter had just started this year and they were already causing trouble. That was why Cleor had been rushing out at all hours of the day whenever he heard news of a beast attack.

“Good to see you, Whitney. It’s been a while,” Cleor said, wiping off a thick layer of beast gunk from his clothes.

Whitney turned to face him, still devastated by Clara’s dismissive attitude. “It’s been a long time, Commander. I’m glad to see you looking so healthy this early in the morning.”

“Really? You’re looking good yourself.”

I’m anything but good right now. Whitney raised his eyebrows. He had just made a two-week journey in one at the cost of all his energy. How could he look good? His lips twitched. “Are you going in?”

Normally, Cleor would have joked around with Whitney or rushed into the castle, but this time, he hesitated.

“Ah... Well...”

It sounded like Cleor had something important to say. Whitney tilted his head for a moment, then clapped his hands together as if he’d remembered something. “Right. I have news from House Helsington.”

“Oh, really? What did they— Ahem, never mind.” Cleor rushed to retract his words. He took off his gloves and dusted them off, splattering green gunk onto Whitney’s face.

The captain frowned, wiping the monster ooze off his cheek. “Aren’t you curious?”

Avoiding Whitney’s gaze, Cleor carefully checked his armor for any signs of a fight and kicked off the dirt that was caked on his boots.

He ought to be... Whitney wondered why he was acting so strangely. “I’m sure you want to know what they said.”

Cleor nodded before shaking his head again.

He was curious, but he wasn’t ready to hear the answer yet. He was from a family with no history, and lived in the North, a cold and desolate land. A member of House Noverdic wasn’t a prime candidate for marriage.

I have nothing to say if Count Helsington rejected the proposal. Not that he’d accept the rejection, but a wound was a wound.

“This isn’t about just anything, it’s about the marriage. Your marriage, Lord Cleor.”

“There’s no rush. I’ll find out sooner or later.”

A smirk pulled at the corner of Whitney’s lips. He grew up with Cleor, so he’d known him long enough to realize that he was trying to avoid the answer. A man known as a fiend was scared? To hear the response to a marriage proposal? All the demonic beasts and bandits Cleor had killed must have been rolling in their graves. Whitney shook his head, wondering what he was so worried about.

Maybe he doesn’t want to get married. Cleor had no interest in women. He had always been that way, but that was also because of how he was raised by the duke and his family. Despite being twenty-five years old and incredibly popular, Cleor had never dated anyone before.

In fact, in the North, Cleor was just as popular as the prince. Tall with a large build, he was certainly eye-catching. And even though he looked like a cold man, he was handsome, and that was more than enough to set. women’s hearts ablaze.

But Cleor had always been indifferent. He was like an iron wall, making it impossible for women to approach him. However, there were always women who enjoyed a challenge, even in the North. Whitney admired those women.

Sometimes, Cleor looked at people as though they were objects. Even Whitney was put off whenever he did that. Yet somehow, some women managed to overlook that icy glare. When that happened, Victor and Angela gave Cleor a schedule from hell.

Killing bandits in the morning, supporting neighboring mercenaries in the afternoon, and slaying twenty demonic beasts in the evening. Whitney felt bad for Cleor, never having experienced the touch of a woman, but he didn’t seem interested in them. Was it possible he didn’t care about marriage? Whitney didn’t think so. Cleor had come to see Whitney off when he left for the count’s place.

“What will you do if they turn down the proposal?”

Cleor flinched.

“Commander?” Whitney’s eyes gleamed.

“Stop messing around.”

“I’ve never messed around in my life,” Whitney protested.

Cleor glanced at Whitney before pointing to his mouth. It was an amusing gesture, a warning that he’d be dead if he said another word. He wisely chose to nod and bring a finger to his lips.

Cleor grabbed the doorknob, perhaps finally ready to hear the answer. His marriage—to Isabella specifically—was a great priority for the dukedom. House Noverdic knew all about Isabella’s condition.

Inside the castle, Victor and Angela were singing her name over and over again. They were excited for her to arrive. The duke and duchess wanted Isabella to turn their gruff bear of a son into other shapes—like a rabbit, a fox, a deer, or even a tiger. They wanted him to become someone who could actually relax and enjoy himself.

“Oh, you have to tell us. Even if it’s a rejection.”

“A rejection?”

“Yes.”

The corners of Cleor’s lips curled into a smile as he traced his chin with his finger. In an instant, the mood turned dark. Whitney had fought hundreds and hundreds of demonic beasts, but the young lord’s violent aura still made him step back.

“Whitney. Don’t you know House Noverdic’s creed? If it doesn’t work, we’ll make it work. So what if House Helsington rejects us? We can just conquer them instead.”

Whitney had to remember that, no matter how close they were, Lord Cleor was a Noverdic through and through. He stepped aside, recalling House Noverdic’s creed.

“Very well. I’m sure your parents will be very proud. Please go in. Oh! By the way... There’s something I’m curious about.” Whitney stood next to Cleor as he kicked the floor, trying to shake the dirt off his shoes.

“What?”

“Have you ever met Lady Isabella before?”

Cleor’s face froze.

***

“My lady. The count wishes to speak with you,” Joanne said, interrupting Isabella’s reading.

Isabella let out a short sigh.

Again? Ever since she had declared that she would accept the marriage proposal, Count Helsington had taken to calling her into his office. He always said the same thing.

“I urge you to reconsider.”

It was all too obvious why they were trying to convince her.

“I wish you could spend more time with us, Isabella.”

Ijar tried to persuade her too.

Are you worried that I’ll die on my way up North? That I won’t be around to make you shine? At first, Isabella was worried that she was being rude by sending a letter to House Noverdic, but after Count Helsington and Ijar’s incessant attempts to dissuade her, she decided to send another letter even if they rejected her—a letter saying that she would never bother them and that she would live quietly in the smallest room. It wouldn’t be any different than her life now.

She knew that if she married into the family while she was terminally ill, she’d only be causing them trouble, but there had to be a reason House Noverdic sent a marriage proposal to her and House Helsington, of all places. That thought put her at ease.

Either way, Isabella didn’t want to lose this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. She shrugged and slowly followed Joanne down the corridor. The sunlight was unusually warm that day. It was the kind of day where she only wanted to think about good things. She reached out and quietly observed specks of dust floating around in the sunshine and on her hand.

“My lady?” Joanne, who had marched on ahead, turned around.

Seeing the wary look in her maid’s eyes, Isabella continued walking. “I’m not going to pass out.”

She was going to tell Count Helsington to stop, once and for all. Isabella clenched her fists.