By Her Grace – a progressive Isekai Light Novel

The Lost Bird

Grace positioned herself with her knights at the roadside. The horses were grazing nearby, behind a few trees that bordered a small clearing. Ser Calen stood a few steps to her left, watching with her as the carriage rolled down the crossing toward Wintergarden.

In hindsight, it had been a gamble to think the bandits would strike again, and even more foolish to believe they would choose this carriage at this time of day. But in Grace's mind, it was still better than marching through the forest without direction. Nils had run for days without knowing where he was going, and he would be of little use in finding the camp. At least this way, they were giving the bandits something worth taking.

She let out a quiet sigh and turned from the empty road toward Ser Calen. "So, what do you think? How long will this take?"

Calen's eyes stayed on the bend ahead. "If we are lucky, not long. The road to Wintergarden is only a few miles long. When they reach the village, they will wait a little, then turn around and come back to us. If nothing happens by then, I doubt it will happen at all today."

Grace nodded, her expression unreadable. "Then let's hope luck feels generous today."

To pass the time, Grace went over the situation again in her mind. The bandit camp had to be larger than a few scattered tents, because Nils had spoken of prisoners—more than a handful. That meant guards, food, and the kind of order that desperate thieves never bothered with.

Selwin's "strange marks" on the bodies they had found earlier had not been curses, as he feared, but crude mana-drain runes. The kind of work meant to pull the faint natural energy from flesh, even from those without a core. Whoever had carved them had known just enough to make them function, which was often worse than true skill. It meant the hand behind them was not ignorant, only careless. So, there was an alchemist among them, or someone close to it. That part had caught Grace's attention more than the bandits themselves. Alchemists never stayed in places like this unless they had a reason. It made her think this was not only about robbery or ransom, but something that reached farther than the forest.

Still, she was not worried. Her knights were all second circle, and while none of them carried a core, their strength and endurance would be enough to crush any bandit camp they found in these woods. The problem was never the fight itself. It was what waited behind it.

Grace looked at Calen. He was watching the same bend in the road, unmoving, his hand resting lightly on the pommel of his sword. The light shifted through the leaves, drawing slow shapes across his armor.

"They will come," she said quietly.

Calen nodded once. "They always do when it looks too easy."

Grace's eyes stayed on the empty path. "Then let's see how easy they think it is."

--::--

When the girl—Grace of Gatewick—stepped out of the carriage, Nils thought that would be the end of it. She would talk to her knights, they would tell her it was too dangerous, and this whole mad idea of hunting bandits would stop before it began. The thought brought him some comfort. Maybe, just maybe, the adults would talk sense into her.

He leaned back in his seat and let out a quiet sigh. The carriage smelled faintly of old leather and dust. Across from him, the other girl still sat in silence, her gaze fixed out the window as if he wasn't even there. She hadn't spoken a word since Grace had left, and she didn't seem to intend to start now.

Nils studied her for a moment, but when she made no move to acknowledge him, his thoughts drifted elsewhere, back to Grace.

She was really something else. He couldn't quite explain it, but she had made an impression on him that he didn't know how to shake. He hated to admit it, but when she was near, he couldn't look away. Her presence filled every space she walked into, and even her smallest movements seemed deliberate, as if she had never once been uncertain in her life.

He pictured her again—the soft blue of her eyes, the golden strands of hair that caught the light, the calm confidence in her voice. Beautiful, yes, but there was more to it than that. There was something beneath the surface, something he couldn't name. She hadn't said her age, but he had the strange feeling she was older than she looked. The way she gave orders, calm and certain, even when they made no sense.

And then there was that carefreeness that didn't fit. She hadn't shown fear once, not even when she decided to go after the bandits. He had pleaded with her to reconsider, to at least speak with an adult—her mother, her brother, anyone—but she had smiled and ignored him, as if the danger didn't exist at all.

What unsettled him more than her confidence was how her knights followed her without question. To Nils, it was madness. But if they listened to her so readily, it meant something. She must have been more important than he first thought.

He sighed again and ran a hand through his hair. Of course, she was. Grace of Gatewick. The name alone carried more weight than his own family's ever would. His father had spoken of Gatewick more than once, usually with the kind of careful respect he reserved for those far above their standing. The county was old, its lands broad and fertile. The barony was not under any higher noble but answered directly to the Duchy itself. So, the nobles of Gatewick would answer only to Ashford, even when they were merely barons—giving them far more independence than some viscounts or even counts.

That made them real nobles, people whose lineage shaped the politics of entire provinces, whose words could change the lives of hundreds. Not like his family in Wintergarden, who were, at best, tolerated by those above them. His father's title had been bought with gold. A baronet's son, nothing more. One step above merchants, far below the ones who mattered.

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It struck him that if things had gone differently—if the attack had never happened, if he had not escaped the bandits and been found by those villagers, if Grace had not come to visit him in that small room afterward—he would never have met her. Their families lived in different circles, the kind that only touched through arranged meetings and formal dinners his father always talked about but never reached. Maybe one day, through his father's efforts, their names would have crossed in the right way, with proper introductions and careful words. But not like this. Meeting her like this felt wrong, as if the world had twisted to make it happen.

He tried to convince himself that it was a good thing, that meeting her now somehow meant something. But the thought didn't feel right. His father would have known what to say, how to behave, how to make a good impression on someone like her. He didn't.

Father would kill me if I embarrassed myself, he thought bitterly. Oh, Father… why did this have to happen to you?

The carriage gave a sudden jolt that broke his thoughts. It was moving again. He blinked and looked toward the window. The reins cracked outside, and the horses began to pull. Grace wasn't coming back. When he looked through the window, he saw that most of the knights were still behind in the clearing. Only two riders followed beside the carriage now, one on each side, and the driver's silhouette was tense on the front bench.

Nils frowned. Something about this felt wrong.

He turned his head toward the other girl. What was her name again? Rin, that was it. She was still staring out of the window, her reflection pale against the light. He noticed now that she wasn't dressed like a noble girl at all. Beneath her dark cloak, she wore fitted leather armor, the kind used for travel or fighting. He frowned slightly. Wasn't she Grace's friend? Maybe another noble's daughter?

He hesitated, then spoke. "Why are we moving? Why isn't Grace coming back?"

For a moment, Rin didn't react. Then she turned her head, slowly, and met his eyes. Her stare was calm and steady, sharper than he expected. It made him uneasy. She studied him as if she were trying to decide whether he was worth answering.

When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet but clear. "You shouldn't look at her like that," she said. "You'll attract her attention."

Nils blinked, confused. "I know she's a noble, and she's far above my rank, but I don't mean anything by it—"

"—Silly," Rin interrupted, her tone flat. She turned back to the window as if the conversation was already over.

Nils stared at her, speechless. He wasn't sure whether to feel insulted or embarrassed. Who even talked like that? Maybe she didn't know who he was, though he doubted it. Or maybe she didn't care. She was Grace's friend, so she was probably a noble herself, but she spoke to him like she was scolding a child.

He crossed his arms and looked away, biting back the urge to respond. Arguing would only make him look foolish.

After a long moment, he tried again, softer this time. "So… you don't know what's happening either?"

Rin didn't look at him. Her eyes stayed on the passing trees, her voice quiet and almost distracted. "Didn't you listen?" she said. "I thought your whole attention was on Grace while she was here. Maybe it was only visual."

He frowned. "What are you talking about?"

She shifted slightly, still not meeting his eyes. "We're the bait," she said simply. "So don't get in my way."

Nils froze. For a moment, he thought he had misheard her. The words sounded too casual, too calm to mean what they did.

"The bait?" he repeated quietly.

But she didn't answer. She just leaned her elbow against the window frame and watched the road ahead, her expression distant.

The carriage rattled on, the sound of the wheels filling the silence between them. Nils stared at her, trying to decide whether she was joking. When it became clear she wasn't, he looked back out the window.

The trees were thicker now, the sunlight dimmer between the branches. The forest no longer felt calm.

Rin said nothing. She just kept looking out of the window, her face reflected in the glass like a ghost. The silence in the carriage stretched, broken only by the dull rhythm of the wheels on the uneven road. Nils tried to ignore it, but his thoughts wouldn't stop circling.

What had Grace said again? Something about a girl his age. The perfect bait. He had thought she was joking. She had to be joking. But the way Rin had looked at him earlier—the calmness in her voice when she called them bait—it didn't sound like a joke at all.

A cold feeling crept up his spine as the words sank in. His hands tightened around his knees, and he stared at the floorboards. It couldn't be true. They wouldn't do that. Not Grace. Not the knights. She had promised to help him, to find the bandits, not to throw him back to them.

He forced himself to breathe evenly, but the air felt heavy, and his chest hurt. He tried to speak, his voice small. "Rin, what did you mean before? You can't really mean that we—"

She didn't turn her head. "Quiet," she said.

He closed his mouth, his heart pounding in his throat. The silence that followed was worse than any answer she could have given. He leaned back and looked out of the window, trying to steady himself. The trees were close to the road now, the leaves thick and green. He told himself it would be fine. Maybe the bandits weren't here anymore. Maybe they would just pass through, reach Wintergarden, and laugh about how paranoid Grace had been.

The thought calmed him a little. He recognized parts of the road—they were close to home. If the carriage kept moving, they would see the outer fields soon, and maybe even the rooftops beyond the valley. He imagined walking into town again, meeting someone familiar, telling them everything that had happened. The image was so vivid it almost made him believe it.

Then the carriage slowed.

At first, he thought the horses were tired, but then the driver shouted. "A tree! There's a tree on the road!"

Nils leaned forward, his stomach twisting. The horses snorted nervously, and one of the knights outside cursed. "People ahead!" he called. "Get ready!"

But before Nils could even understand what was happening, the driver dropped the reins and jumped from his seat onto one of the knight's horses. The other knight turned his mount at once.

"Wait—what are you doing?" Nils shouted, but his voice broke in his throat.

The two men spurred their horses hard and fled back down the road. The carriage rocked as they vanished behind the trees.

He went pale. His hands trembled. They were leaving. They were leaving them behind. Grace wasn't coming. It wasn't a plan or a trick. They were bait.

Rin moved suddenly, pulling her hood up and straightening her armor. Her face was calm. She looked at him once, her eyes steady and cold. "If you want to live," she said quietly, "don't tell them about the others. Tell them your guards ran away when the road was blocked. Say you were sent home after someone found you in the woods. If you say more than that, we will die. Understand?"

Nils stared at her, his voice stuck somewhere between fear and disbelief. He nodded slowly.

Outside, the sound of voices grew louder. Laughter. Shouting. The harsh rhythm of boots on dirt. The carriage rocked slightly as someone grabbed the door handle.

He could smell them now—the sweat, the leather, the faint stench of unwashed bodies.

The door was yanked open.

A rough face appeared in the light, scarred and grinning. The man's teeth were yellow, his eyes bright with recognition. He looked at Nils for a moment, his grin widening.

"Well, isn't this something," the man said, his voice thick with amusement. "Look what I found, boys! Our little bird flew back to us after all!"

Laughter broke out behind him, wild and mean.

Nils couldn't move. The air felt thick in his lungs, his hands frozen on his lap. He wanted to scream, to run, but all he could do was stare back at that familiar face, the one from the camp, the one from his nightmares.

The man leaned closer, the smell of old blood and smoke clinging to him. "Welcome home, boy."

Nils's throat closed. The forest outside echoed with laughter.