Chapter 30
It all began with a painting labeled as the first Duke of Winstaine. With his black eyes staring straight ahead, the first Duke exuded the same cold aura that Frederick did.
Grace observed the portrait carefully. The paintings hanging along the hall depicted people of all ages and genders. One thing they all had in common was that most had black hair and black eyes.
“So dark…”
“Yes. They say if someone has more than half Winstaine blood, they always have black hair and eyes. That’s why people say the Winstaine family is recognizable anywhere.”
As Grace continued walking, glancing at the various portraits and paintings, she stopped again at Dorota’s words.
“This is a portrait of the previous Duke and Duchess. His Grace bears a strong resemblance to the previous Duke.”
“…He really does.”
A young man with black hair, dressed in uniform, stood next to a blonde woman. His sharp features and chiseled jawline looked very similar to Frederick’s, just as Dorota had said. Without an explanation, anyone could’ve easily mistaken him for Frederick himself.
“They look… close.”
Grace’s eyes moved to their arms. The couple stood side by side with their arms linked. The blonde woman was a graceful beauty with a gentle smile resting on her lips.
“That’s right. They were very close. Though their marriage was arranged, they always cherished and respected one another. The former Duke only ever had eyes for the Duchess. Even after she passed away, he never let another woman near.”
“……”
“They were often seen walking hand in hand or smiling together around the estate. They were a beautiful and happy couple.”
Suddenly, the ducal house of Reinheim came to mind.
Grace had rarely ever seen the Duke and Duchess of Reinheim together.
She had, however, occasionally witnessed the Duke hovering near pretty maids, whispering things that left the girls with uncomfortable expressions. Often, the Duke’s hand would rest on their waist or shoulder.
‘Someone like me… wouldn’t exist in a family like that.’
A disgrace to the family—a child born out of wedlock. She would’ve been better off never being born. If the couple had truly only ever looked at each other, someone like her wouldn’t have existed.
“What’s this…?”
Next to the wedding portrait of the previous Duke and Duchess was a painting of a young boy.
The boy, with black hair, sat on a small chair with his hands neatly folded. He wore a frilly shirt and light green pants. The setting seemed to be a study.
“That’s the current Duke as a child. He was about eight years old then.”
“Wow…”
A soft exclamation escaped Grace. The small frame and chubby cheeks looked completely unfamiliar.
So Frederick had a childhood like this… Grace knew everyone had once been a child, but the image didn’t suit his cold demeanor at all.
“Adorable, isn’t he? He used to laugh easily and was a bit of a troublemaker.”
Dorota smiled warmly as she spoke.
Frederick’s childhood… In the painting, young Frederick’s eyes sparkled with curiosity.
“A troublemaker…?”
“Yes. He used to run down the halls making a racket, and my mother had to scold him many times… But every time he got in trouble, he always found a way to get revenge.”
Though it sounded like a complaint, Dorota’s face lit up with fondness as she recalled the past.
“My mother really had a tough time with him. He’d trip her on purpose or sprinkle leaves on her head.”
“……”
“He loved to run around… One time, he stormed off saying he’d wipe out all the monsters, and the entire estate went into chaos.”
Grace let out a little laugh as she listened. The thought of Frederick running around like that was both adorable and funny.
“But now he’s grown into such a fine head of the family, and he’s even married… I didn’t raise him entirely on my own, but it still makes me proud.”
“What’s this one…?”
Grace pointed to the next painting.
It showed a man who looked exactly like Frederick, riding a horse with his sword raised high, staring fiercely forward.
The sword glowed with a bluish hue, and the horse had its front legs raised, as if about to charge at any moment.
“This is an imagined depiction of His Grace fighting on the battlefield.”
“……”
“It was a gift from the royal family after the last war.”
‘Fighting… on the battlefield…’
Grace repeated the words in her mind. She knew Frederick carried a sword.
She had seen him wear it—on the day they met, and again recently, it had been at his side. But she had never seen him actually use it.
“It’s blue…”
“You mean the blade? That’s something called ‘aura.’ His Grace is a Swordmaster, so he can use it.”
“Swordmaster…? Aura?”
They were all unfamiliar terms. Grace tilted her head slightly, then returned her gaze to the painting.
“……”
The Frederick in the painting radiated strength. His eyes, fixed forward, looked like they could strike down enemies at any moment.
So being a Swordmaster must be something amazing. How wonderful would it be if she could capture Frederic in action with her own brush?
“This is the portrait painted for your wedding.”
“Oh… you’re right.”
Next to the imagined battlefield scene hung their wedding portrait—hers and Frederick’s.
“Soon, more portraits of His Grace and My Lady will fill this gallery. I look forward to it. Of course, the ones painted by you will also be displayed.”
“Mm…”
Grace nodded, then turned to Dorota.
“Dorota.”
“Yes, My Lady?”
“Does Frederick… still use a sword?”
“Of course. He trains with the knights nearly every day, so he uses it regularly.”
Dorota answered. Grace hesitated for a moment before speaking again.
“Then, Frederic…”
“……”
“Where does he train?”
Grace held onto a tree for balance as she looked ahead. Before her stood thousands of knights in training gear, facing off with drawn swords.
She had come to see the Winstaine family’s knights training outdoors. However, not wanting to draw attention to herself, she had chosen a spot some distance away.
Grace scanned the grounds for Frederick.
He stood toward the front and center, relative to her position. Thanks to his dark hair, he was easy to spot even from afar. He was currently sparring with a knight, sword in hand.
Their blades clashed high in the air. Withdrawing his sword, Frederick quickly aimed for the knight’s side. The knight raised his blade to block, and once again, the swords met. The knight’s arm trembled under the force, while Frederick’s body remained perfectly still.
As their swords clashed more and more, Frederick steadily advanced, and the knight was pushed back step by step.
With a cold expression, Frederick twisted his sword against the knight’s. As the blades locked, the knight was thrown to the ground—but even then, he didn’t let go of his sword.
The knight stood, bowed to Frederick, and stepped back. Another knight, who had been waiting, immediately charged forward with sword raised.
Frederick parried the strike with ease, then struck the knight’s shoulder with the back of his blade, sending him tumbling.
Three knights attacked all at once. Frederick deflected each blow in sequence. Some nearly lost their footing but managed to recover and strike again. Even while dueling another knight, Frederick dodged every attack and delivered swift counterattacks.
The sparring continued. Though his opponents kept changing, Frederick never paused, his movements fluid and unwavering. He showed no sign of fatigue or distraction.
Grace took in every moment, her eyes fixed on him. The way he moved with a sword was like a swift butterfly, yet also like a solid predator. While the knights seemed to struggle desperately against him, Frederick fought effortlessly, with remarkable composure.
‘……’
Grace had heard that Frederick was an extraordinary swordsman—but seeing it with her own eyes was something else entirely.
‘Beautiful…’
At times, the way he wielded his sword looked like a dance. Grace wondered how she could ever capture that vivid motion in a painting. Just then, Frederick glanced to the side—and their eyes met.
“!”
