From a Broken Engagement to the Northern Grand Duke's Son-in-Law

After absorbing the dozen or so red jewels, I gathered my Aura and rose to my feet. The power hummed through my veins, settled and refined.

“This should be enough.”

I stood on the threshold of mid-level Aura Master—that great, glorious milestone.

“I never imagined the red jewels could be used like that,” Python said, staring at me in disbelief. The way I had absorbed the demonic energy seemed to astound him.

And why wouldn’t it? According to the temples, demonic energy was a force that could never mix with the living. Humans who absorbed it either underwent Demonization or fell into corruption. 

From Python’s perspective, I must have seemed like a venerable master performing a miracle.

“It is a technique only I can perform,” I stated firmly, in case he entertained thoughts of trying it himself.

Python replied as if it were obvious. “I know. If it were that simple, the gangs wouldn’t have just let those jewels sit there.”

He had a point. I nodded in agreement.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. Over three hours had passed—time had flown by during the process of converting demonic energy into Aura.

“It’s about time we head up.”

Python and I left the cellar and rejoined my unit.

Shortly after, Python brought out the completed weapons and handed them to us.

“Here, take them.”

The weapons shone brilliantly. Forged from Mithril, they were lightweight and possessed an exceptionally high rate of Aura conductivity—almost on par with some divine relics.

I scanned the weapons one by one. Lancelot received a long spear; Kai, a dagger; Roxen and Lea, swords; and Hans, a mace-like club.

And for me—a heart protector and arrowheads.

I smiled in satisfaction at the items in my hand.

I had initially waved him off when he’d offered to forge a weapon for me. The reason was simple: I already had the Relics of the Divine Archer.

No matter how fine the Mithril, there was no need to replace armaments imbued with their own techniques and to which I was already accustomed.

So instead, he had crafted this heart protector and these arrowheads for me. 

Normally, arrowheads were consumables, a resource to be spent only after careful consideration. But with Hasilan, I could use them as I pleased.

Hasilan, after all, possessed a retrieval ability—a homing instinct that would return the arrowheads to me.

“This is a gift I don’t deserve.”

“Don’t say that. I’m the one truly indebted,” Python said with a chuckle, shaking his head. “Still, it will be a bit lonely once you all leave. When a bustling place suddenly goes quiet, the emptiness feels all the larger.”

Python looked at his daughter with a faint, wistful smile. He was likely thinking less of himself and more of the daughter who would be left here to face the loneliness with him.

Watching him, I finally voiced a thought I’d been entertaining for some time.

“Python.”

“Yes?”

“I was wondering… if we could arrange for you to leave this place, would you be willing to join us?”

A recruitment offer. Not to join my unit, of course, but to settle in the North.

Python, however, seemed to have misunderstood. “You want me to go to the battlefield with you?”

“Ah, no. I meant for you and your daughter to make a new home in the North. If you wish, I will provide you with all the support you need.”

“You are serious?” Python asked, his expression one of utter disbelief.

The truth was, he must have wanted to leave this place. But the secret in his cellar, his daughter he had to protect, and the lack of funds to establish himself elsewhere had held him back.

Now, my offer was a solution to all of it.

Complete freedom. It was laid out before him.

“What do you want to do?” Python asked his daughter gently.

The girl nodded her head enthusiastically and shouted, “Let’s go! Daddy, I wanna go with that uncle!”

“‘That uncle’?”

“The most handsome uncle there! I’m gonna marry him!”

Python’s daughter pointed a finger straight at Roxen.

Python froze in shock, while the others zipped their mouths.

A heavy quiet descended upon the smithy.

Only Lancelot’s voice broke the stillness.

“Wow.”

* * *

After that minor incident passed, we finished our preparations to depart.

Python and his daughter were ready as well. Since they couldn’t travel with us, I had booked them passage to the North ahead of us.

“Uncle! You have to come back without getting hurt!” Python’s daughter cried from the deck of the northbound cruiser, her voice thick with tears.

Seeing this, Lancelot nudged Roxen. “Well, aren’t you lucky? Getting a marriage proposal from a girl young enough to be your daughter.”

“Now I understand why my liege hits you.”

“That’s just because I’m the designated punching bag.”

Lancelot chuckled. “Anyway, think about it seriously. Who knows? In twenty years, she might grow into someone spectacular.”

With that, Lancelot backed away from Roxen, who ignored him with a soft sigh.

I watched them with an amused smile. “I see you two are having fun.”

“Do you intend to tease me as well, my liege?”

“Of course not. I’m not a child like Sir Lancelot, am I?” I replied with a shrug.

Seeing that, Roxen shook his head faintly and sighed once more. “Hah. So, where are we heading now?”

“Hm? Did I not mention it before? We’re going to recruit a new member.”

“Does this new member work at the port?” Roxen asked, looking around.

He saw no one who looked like a potential recruit, and his expression clearly asked who I could possibly be talking about.

“Not at the port.”

“Then are we returning to the city?”

“No, not in the city either.”

I gave a soft chuckle as Roxen stared at me with a look that plainly said, Then where?

I turned my head and gazed out over the sea. “Over there, I suppose.”

“Where exactly, my liege?” Roxen asked again.

The others, their curiosity piqued, drew closer, their ears perked.

“You might not be able to see it. It’s quite a ways down.”

“Down, you say? If you mean down... wait, surely not?!” Roxen’s eyes widened as he spoke.

The others had the same reaction. It seemed they had figured out what I meant.

I gave them a nod, confirming their suspicions.

“Lovan Tree Prison. Our final unit member is there.”

In the inescapable fortress, where the continent’s worst criminals are imprisoned.

** *

Meanwhile, at the Artezia duchy, the head butler stood before Hera’s room.

Knock, knock.

“My Lady, your meal for the day.”

Screech—

The head butler pushed the meal through the food slot at the bottom of the door. The slot was just large enough for two hands to fit through.

A foul stench wafted out from within.

Thwack!

Fingers shot through the slot and snatched the tray. Her mealtime began.

Smack, smack—!

Slurrrp—!

The sounds were devoid of any noble etiquette, a disgusting noise that grated on the ears.

Coupled with the stench, no ordinary person would have been able to stand being there for a single moment.

Krrk.

The tray was thrown back out of the slot, practically licked clean.

Clang!

It clattered loudly as it hit the floor.

Though he had every reason to be annoyed, the head butler silently bent down to retrieve it.

In that instant—

“Oi.”

A coarse voice spoke, and a pair of bloodshot eyes appeared in the slot.

They were the eyes of the woman once called the most beautiful flower in the Empire—Hera Artezia.

“Father say anything?”

“There has been no word, my lady,” the head butler stated flatly.

From within, a ghostly voice began to spill out again.

“That can’t happen. It can’t. I can’t marry the marquis. I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t...”

The words tumbled out in a single, mad rush.

Anyone else would have been horrified, but the head butler spoke as if nothing were amiss.

“The master mentioned he will be summoning you soon.”

“I can’t... what?”

“He said you will be able to come out shortly.”

Thud!

At the butler’s words, the door shook violently, and an excited voice cried out.

“Is that true? I can really get out?!”

“Yes. The time has come.”

“Ahaha... ahahaha... ahahahahahahahahaha!”

The laughter of a madwoman echoed once more from Hera’s room.

The head butler listened for a moment before picking up the tray and heading out.

“I will take that,” a nearby servant offered.

“Thank you.”

He handed the tray to the servant and made his way to the Duke’s office.

“You’ve returned,” Duke Artezia greeted him.

“Yes. I delivered the message as you commanded.”

“And her condition?”

“I believe she is ready enough.”

“Hmm... is that so?”

Duke Artezia tapped his fingers on his desk, lost in thought. Several people were present in the office, with the Duke seated at the head.

“Why? What is it?” asked the woman who had been the Veilwarden of Death Veil, her curiosity piqued.

The Duke waved a dismissive hand. “It is nothing. A matter of the House. You need not concern yourself.”

“Then you shouldn’t have said anything to make me curious,” the woman muttered, pouting. A familiar-looking tattoo was visible on her shoulder. “Oh, you really can’t tell me?”

"…The way you talk, you'd think you were my daughter."

“If I were, would you tell me?”

Lunatic.

Duke Artezia let out a dry laugh. “I was merely thinking that it is time to make our move.”

“For what?”

“What else? The first step toward fulfilling our long-held ambition.” A corner of the Duke’s mouth twisted into a smile. “Send a letter to the Marquis. Tell him the engagement ceremony will be held next week.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“However, tell him to send a separate, sealed document of betrothal. A document stating that as long as the bride is, in fact, Hera Artezia, he will lodge no complaints whatsoever.”

Duke Artezia’s eyes glinted as he stared out the window.

The road to taking the Imperial Palace had finally begun.