Chapter 10 

While Elena was sinking into the depths of despair, the capital procession was fast approaching. She wanted nothing more than to use her injuries as an excuse to skip the event, but her sense of duty as a knight held her fast.

Once every two months, a third of the knights would accompany the Grand Duke on his journey to Serheim, the capital. The regular knights enjoyed these outings. There was no need to fight, and more than anything, they took pride in the cheers that rained down upon them.

“Elena, you should smile.”

“Mhm.”

At the rear of the procession, where the 7th Division was positioned, Elena sat stiffly in her saddle, staring blankly at the bouquets being thrown toward them, unable to understand the cause of the commotion.

Marlene, riding close beside her, whispered gently upon noticing her rigid expression. Only then did Elena relax her face and turn her gaze ahead.

“Kyaa! He’s so handsome!”

“They say it’s nearly impossible to get into that unit!”

Why are they cheering like that?

The moment the procession, adorned in black and crimson, the colors representing the Grand Duke, entered the capital, the people erupted in fervent applause. Even the weather seemed eager to elevate the grandeur of the Grand Duke. The flags held by riders throughout the formation fluttered elegantly in the breeze.

The cheers, the screams, the cries directed at the Grand Duke and the dragon-emblazoned banners filled her with a dull sense of suffocation.

She, too, had once worshipped the dragon. In her youth, the word alone evoked awe and wonder. 

A dragon who fell in love with the founding king of the Kingdom of Valra. Granted divine power by Kaelnin, the god of creation, the dragon transformed into a human and fell in love with the king. Thus was born the royal line: the Nizenas. Only one heir in each generation would inherit the dragon’s blood in full. In this generation, that person was Van Nizena.

“Your Grace, please look this way!”

“Kyaa! He looked! He looked right at me, didn’t he?”

“I wish he’d show us his real form…!”

Elena guided her horse down the white boulevard leading to the palace, matching her pace to those around her. Amid the roar of voices, certain phrases pierced her ears more sharply than the rest.

And strangely, though there was no reason for it, her right arm throbbed with pain. As if warning her not to be swayed by those words.

She had to stop Van. Stop him from taking Tyrtan.

* * *

As soon as they entered the capital, Van Nizena furrowed his brows at the flood of stares and cheers. Not because the attention was unwelcome, he was long used to it, but because it was, just slightly, irritating.

He had lived with this fate thrust upon him, never once desiring it. He’d endured such gazes for decades. But there were some eyes in the crowd, unpleasant, loathsome ones, that he could not abide.

When had those eyes become so numerous?

As that thought crossed his mind, Van subtly glanced behind him. One figure stood out starkly: Elena Vened, far to the rear.

D**n Vened.

Had Aurin Vened not betrayed him, and Tyrtan Vened not committed such a heinous act, he would’ve long since crushed those disapproving eyes, backed by the support of the royalist faction.

But thanks to the Vened family’s actions, the power of Marquis Masen Chariot had grown, and the royal family had been forced into retreat.

Van turned his gaze forward again and urged his horse on. As the end of the cleared boulevard came into view, he could no longer hold back and let out a quiet sigh.

“Brother!”

At the palace gates, Ranun Nizena, the Crown Prince, who had been waiting in advance, ran toward him with a bright smile. Ignoring royal decorum, Ranun flung himself into his brother’s arms, prompting the attendants behind him to clear their throats and avert their eyes.

Since the former king’s death, the throne had remained vacant. Now, the palace belonged to Ranun. Some frowned at the sight of someone in such a critical position acting so childishly.

“Ranun, have you been well?”

“Yes, and have you been in good health, brother?”

“Thanks to you.”

As Van dismounted, those behind him followed suit. Elena, too, moved forward to take her place beside him as his aide.

Van effortlessly embraced his younger brother and climbed the carpeted stairs, entering the towering palace gates. The rest of the procession dispersed to their assigned posts. Only Elena and a few nobles accompanying Van into the palace remained.

“Were you out here alone?”

“Yes. I wanted to see you as soon as possible.”

Ranun was a child full of affection, sincere, diligent, and full of admirable qualities, but he was still too young to inherit the throne and rule the kingdom properly.

After the sudden death of King Dran Nizena, Masen Chariot, who had always flattered Ranun, quickly pushed to install him as the next king. Masen wanted to place the boy on the throne and act as regent himself. A predictable move on his part.

Van opposed him. Tied to the North by force, Van found it troubling to imagine Ranun ascending the throne at such a young age, especially when Van couldn’t protect or guide him.

If Van could be there to support him, that would be another matter. But right now, Ranun remained under the Marquis’s thumb. If he inherited the crown, the consequences were all too clear.

So Van took it upon himself to handle everything in Ranun’s stead, practically acting as regent. Naturally, Masen grew more hostile toward him.

Van Nizena and Masen Chariot.

As the rift between the two men refused to close, a compromise was proposed: name Ranun the Crown Prince. Thus, the boy, barely in his early teens, became the heir apparent.

“The Marquis said he’d wait inside.”

At Ranun’s whisper, Van scowled openly, unable to hide his disgust.

So the Crown Prince had come out to greet him, yet the Marquis waited inside? It was a transparent show of spite.

Not wanting to run into Masen, Van turned immediately.

“Well, the Grand Duke certainly made a grand entrance today. Have you been well?”

But as if he’d overheard their conversation, Marquis Masen Chariot appeared in the distance. The nobles behind Van instantly soured at the sight of him.

“It’s been a while.”

“Indeed. It’s been too long since I last saw Your Grace. Ah, and the people behind you look rather formidable. I’ve only brought two with me today.”

At that, the expressions of those behind Van shifted dramatically.

Among them were Count Calix Crishi, head of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and Count Adamin Lipz, head of the Commerce Ministry. Masen’s thinly veiled provocation immediately froze the air around them. Only Elena stood unbothered, silently watching the exchange.

“Only two? No wonder you seem unusually modest today. Ah, right. I didn’t see Count Rosen, perhaps that’s why.”

“Count Rosen isn’t idle enough to attend routine events like this.”

“Well, I suppose a Marquis with no real responsibilities, who wanders the palace daily, would find the time.”

Van shrugged as he spoke. The nobles behind him chuckled quietly in agreement.

“Marquis, just a bit of advice for the sake of your twilight years… Maybe it’s time you actually devoted some energy to managing your estate?”

“Estate management? My subordinates handle everything perfectly well.”

“That might be the problem. Refugees from your territory have been flooding into the North and giving us a headache.”

At Van’s words, Masen’s face flushed with anger, and the nobles behind Van began to laugh openly. Even with his grip on internal power, Masen couldn’t openly defy Van. Especially since Van wasn’t just any Grand Duke.

“Your Grace, that’s going too far.”

“Ah, I forgot. The Marquis is so sensitive that even the truth wounds him. I’ll be more careful.”

Van stepped forward, releasing Ranun, and gave Masen’s shoulder a few light taps. The sly smile tugging at Van’s lips made Masen’s hands tremble with rage.

“And Marquis… Do be more careful with that loose tongue of yours in the presence of royalty.”

He whispered this with a cold, murderous edge. Masen’s knees nearly gave out on the spot. The Marquis clenched his teeth to resist the pressure, but Van’s presence was overwhelming, causing his body to shake.

Seeing the Marquis’s pitiful state, his attendants fumbled awkwardly behind him.

“…Y-yes, understood.”

Masen stammered out a reply, and Van finally withdrew the dark pressure he’d been exuding.

“Count Patint submitted the same proposal to the state council without any revisions. I rejected it. Consider this your notice.”

“What? But…”

Startled by the sudden reprimand, Count Severino Patint, standing behind Masen, jumped in alarm.

“You mean the proposal to revise the authorization process? It hasn’t been approved yet, so the final decision rests with me, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, but the Marquis had agreed…”

“Even if the Marquis agrees, it means nothing if I reject it. Surely, as head of the administration, you know that?”

“Yes. I apologize.”

At Van’s rebuke, Count Patint quickly lowered his head. As Van said, the amendment he’d tried to push through hadn’t even passed the council. Yet he had still submitted it under the Marquis’s name, pretending otherwise.

At the end of the day, the palace belonged to Ranun. However young and politically inexperienced he was, the Marquis and his supporters had no right to act so brazenly before the Crown Prince.

Having put them in their place, Van took Ranun’s hand. Without offering a single word of farewell, he turned and headed for the stairs.

“Everyone except Count Crishi and my aide may return.”

“Understood.”

At Van’s words, the Counts following him bowed deeply. Once inside the office prepared for him in the main palace, Van released Ranun’s hand. But the boy, not wanting to let go, reached out again. His hands were still small, he could barely wrap his fingers around Van’s.

“Brother, can’t you come more often?”

Ranun looked up at him with quiet longing in his eyes, and Van’s heart ached.

“…I’m sorry.”

D**n this cursed Nizena blood. Everything was its fault.

……

T/N: So Ranun should be around 7 to 12 years old… that’s peak cuteness 😚