Chapter 18 

He was clearly burning with rage, yet the sheer intensity of it seemed to freeze his mind for a moment. But when he reached the infuriating conclusion, his face twisted in frustration.

It was true that Elena might have joined the Marquis’s faction.

But that couldn’t be allowed. At least not in the North, not within the Grand Duke’s estate, and certainly not within the Order. The Marquis’s influence had to be kept at bay.

When Elena joined the Order, Van had confirmed through Quirea that she had not sided with the Marquis. Even so, because Quirea’s doubts had yet to subside, Van had assigned someone to quietly monitor Elena’s every move to put those worries to rest.

And yet, somehow, Elena had lied to him and attended this ball. There was no way the daughter of Baron Vened would have made such a choice lightly.

Van had once confidently stated that Elena had not aligned herself with the Marquis. Now, he scoffed bitterly at his own naivety.

It was Aurin who had betrayed him, and Tyrtan who had dared to assassinate Dran, the King of Valra. And yet he had underestimated Aurin’s daughter, Tyrtan’s sister.

“Your Grace? If you’ll wait a moment, the Marquis will be arriving shortly.”

“Ah, yes. Don’t worry about the Marquis. I’ll see him myself.”

Sensing something strange in the atmosphere, Larry stepped back, and Count Pirard looked at Van questioningly. Now was not the time to concern himself with the Marquis.

Van abruptly turned away from Count Pirard and strode toward Elena. Those gathered in clumps parted like a wave, clearing a path for him.

“Who is that?”

“Someone the Marquis invited. I heard she’s a knight…”

“Which Order?”

“Ridwan, apparently.”

“Ah, that explains it…”

Murmurs about Elena buzzed around the room, drawing more attention with each step Van took toward her. Regardless of the murmurs, Van came to a halt in front of Elena.

Yes, that stunned look, he wanted to see that expression. That was why he had deliberately approached with such heavy presence, almost like charging at her. He could hear whispers all around. Judging by how few seemed familiar with her, it seemed Elena hadn’t been part of the Marquis’s faction for long.

And yet… 

“Vened, what are you doing here?”

“…Commander.”

“Is this the Saulliren estate you claimed was like your parents’ home?”

“It is not.”

The blue eyes that had been trying to remain calm began to ripple. Seeing her composure crack, Van let out a low laugh. If she was going to tremble like this, why lie to him and come to a place like this?

“Or are you implying that what happened to Saulliren is connected to this place?”

“No… sir.”

“Well, if that were the case, I’d have stripped Saulliren of his title already. And now…”

Van curled his lip in a cold smirk, warning her.

“I suppose now I’ll have to consider expelling you from the Order.”

Elena shut her eyes tightly. She must’ve anticipated this much to have shown up at a ball backed by the Marquis himself.

Van sneered as Elena’s expression crumbled into despair.

Did she really think she could hide this from him? Was that why she tried so hard to remain expressionless, only to unravel the moment she was cornered?

In that instant, Van thought of Ranun and Masen.

Van could never be king. He had no desire to be. When Ranun was old enough, he planned to withdraw entirely from politics. But the real problem was Masen. Just like the last time a Grand Duke ruled as regent, Masen, Valra’s only Marquis, wanted to install Ranun as king, then control the nation himself.

And the one he most feared was Van Nizena, the Grand Duke of the North. Though he could not kill Van, the symbol of Valra and a man of unmatched strength, Masen had continually tried to weaken him.

Had Masen kept his ambitions in check, Van might not have paid him much mind. But his endless greed had ultimately led to the assassination of Dran. Even someone as indifferent to politics as Van knew about Masen’s insatiable ambition, and how that ambition had made them enemies.

“Commander, I just…”

Elena faltered, flustered, her composure completely gone.

This suited her more. Pretending to be numb, wielding her sword like a woman obsessed with nothing but combat, this wasn’t the Elena he knew.

This confused, unsure Elena was more familiar. Seeing this honest side of her for the first time in ages, Van’s mouth curled again.

“I don’t care what excuse you make. Oh, though who knows, maybe if you fall to your knees and beg in tears, I’ll consider sparing you?”

Elena had earned her place in Ridwan fairly. Her skills were more than worthy, and Van had allowed her in because he preferred to keep her within sight.

Claiming she was a lure to draw out Tyrtan? That was just an excuse. The truth was, he simply couldn’t bear to let her go. He couldn’t stand being separated from someone he had set his eyes on, not for too long, not too far.

It wasn’t just emotion. It was instinct. A cursed, dragon instinct.

And that instinct had coincidentally aligned with Elena’s own wishes. The very fact that she had worked so hard to join Ridwan proved she wanted to stay.

“…I’m sorry.”

Van turned his gaze toward Masen, who was observing them from a short distance away.

So this was who Elena had chosen to follow.

“How could you…”

His murmur cut off.

Elena Vened. By choosing the Marquis, you had utterly betrayed me.

Even if she had once meant something important to him, she was still a Vened. So why had he allowed himself to hope, unable to smother even this one primal instinct?

The Vened family had always betrayed him. Van could no longer finish the thought. He shut his mouth tightly.

Now, it was not Elena who looked shaken and uncertain, it was Van.

* * *

Before Elena had run into Van, she had arrived in the capital after a long journey and entered Count Pirard’s estate.

It wasn’t as grand as the Grand Duke’s manor, but it was still more lavish than she expected. Elena found herself slightly surprised. Now that she thought about it, she recalled hearing that those close to Marquis Masen were quite wealthy.

A guard stopped her carriage and informed Count Pirard of her arrival. Just as she stepped down, Count Maketon Pirard emerged.

“Lady Vened, I knew you’d come. Just as your brother said, you’re quite the beauty.”

“Thank you for the invitation.”

Surprisingly, Count Pirard, like his messenger, seemed to know Tyrtan quite well.

Elena caught the glint in Pirard’s eyes, just for a moment, quickly hidden beneath a friendly façade. But it was enough to confirm that he was scheming something.

“I hope you enjoy the ball.”

“…I’ll do my best.”

Elena didn’t know how to interpret his emphasis on the word ‘enjoy.’ She placed a hand over her chest and gave him a polite bow.

Count Pirard led her to the parlor. With time left before the ball, they agreed to have tea.

The parlor was lavish, likely intended to impress guests. The expensive decorations, and even the chandelier that didn’t quite match the space, confirmed that.

“Here you are.”

A servant set down a tea tray. The tea that poured from the pot looked especially dark, even bitter. Thinking something strong might suit this heavy atmosphere, Elena accepted the cup and took a sip without protest.

“I imagine you have many questions. I can’t tell you everything… I have strict superiors, you see.”

He took a long, meandering route to the point. Boring, even. But Elena listened quietly, taking in each word.

“Well then. Tyrtan is currently in Tussla. He has much to do there.”

“I’d like to ask what that work entails.”

“Nothing special. You know where Tyrtan comes from, don’t you? It relates to his background.”

“…But the Hetz Order has been disbanded.”

Tyrtan’s only real ‘background’ was the Hetz Knights.

Unlike Elena, Tyrtan had shown extraordinary talent from a young age. At Aurin’s request, he joined the Hetz Order, a youth knight corps founded by Dran Nizena, the late king. That alone had made Tyrtan a source of pride for House Vened.

But after Dran’s death, the Hetz Order had been dissolved. Its members scattered, most returning to their homes. Tyrtan, though… had vanished. At least, that’s what she’d heard.

“Ah, because of His Majesty Dran Nizena’s death?”

Elena neither confirmed nor denied the question. She didn’t want to speak carelessly of the late king.

“Well, some stayed, others didn’t. Tyrtan is still active, though.”

No, officially, the Hetz Order no longer existed. And yet Tyrtan was still ‘active?’

“And this ‘work’ he’s doing, is it under your management, Count?”

“Yes.”

“Then I suppose you also know why my brother hasn’t come to see me.”

Elena gave the Count a sweet smile. And worked hard to reveal none of her emotions.

“He’s busy, surely. We gave him a chance to return home. We’re not such terrible employers.”

“Whether you’re the employer, or your superior is, I don’t know. But… it’s enough to know he’s alive.”

She couldn’t let them see how desperate she was. If they sensed her urgency, who knew what they’d do. So Elena stopped there.

“Wait.”

“Yes? Is something wrong?”

“You came all this way just to hear that, Lady Vened?”

“Yes. Just knowing my brother is safe is enough.”

Besides, she had no reason to fully align herself with them… yet. Who knew what might happen if she jumped in prematurely?

“Ha… hahaha! You’ve got more spine than I thought. As expected of Ridwan’s finest.”

Maketon laughed heartily as if she’d landed a blow on him, but Elena sipped her tea without even flinching.

Watching her, Maketon began to study her more openly. He’d expected her to beg to see her brother. But not at all. Clearly, this knight was no naïve fool.

“I’ll arrange a meeting.”

But this threw off his plans. And if things ended here, he didn’t know what Masen might say, so Maketon quickly added…