Chapter 62 - Unboxing

“Galahad! Come here!”

Galahad smiled at the goateed man's call. Before, the man had insisted on calling him “Imperial bastard!” right to the end. Now he was calling him Galahad.

Amusingly enough, that change felt more meaningful than the salutes.

“Put this on! And slick your hair back!”

The goateed man held out a suit that was red from top to bottom. It looked quite well made, but the red was far too vivid.

“Every color suits me, of course, but I prefer black.”

“Put it on! His Highness the Grand Duke commands it!”

“In that case, I have no choice.”

Galahad obediently changed.

“But why red?”

The goateed man answered as though Galahad had asked something obvious.

“So the blood won't show!”

“Hmm. Could you fetch Adrianna for a moment?”

Unfortunately, Adrianna refused his request on the grounds that the Grand Duke had ordered a private audience. There was no swaying Adrianna when she had sound reasoning on her side.

'Hmm... It really wouldn't show.'

Galahad looked down at his red clothes and let out a low hum. Somehow, the explanation seemed quite plausible.

“Off you go!”

When he finished preparing and left the room, the man named Theodore was waiting for him.

“It suits you very well.”

“Clothes tend to look good on me.”

Galahad rubbed the back of his neck as he answered. Theodore looked faintly appalled.

“This way...”

Galahad followed Theodore's lead.

“I have a very high opinion of your accomplishments, Commander Galahad. I look forward to your continued efforts. Now, may you return safely...”

Theodore stepped aside in front of a thick door.

Adrianna was nowhere to be seen. Clicking his tongue softly, Galahad entered the Grand Duke's room alone.

It was every bit as horrific as on his previous visit. Stuffed demon-beasts and Demons crowded every available space.

On his second visit, he noticed things he had missed the first time.

'He tore them off himself.'

The edges of all the mounted trophies were ragged, as though they had been ripped apart by hand.

The demon-beasts that had seemed to be roaring ferociously on his last visit looked different now. They looked as though they were barking in fear of a monster.

The farther into the room he went, the larger and more menacing the stuffed demon-beasts became.

And at the end of them all sat the Grand Duke.

Galahad let out a low hum at the sight of him. Despite being in the North, the Grand Duke had left his torso bare, and it looked more like a demon-beast's than a human's. His enormous muscles rippled constantly as though they were alive.

This was a man who tore through demon-beasts with an axe, without using aura. He had already surpassed the realm of humanity.

The Grand Duke stroked the haft of his enormous axe.

“I greet the ruler of the North.”

Galahad bowed his head in respect.

“The Imperial Princess sent a letter.”

The Grand Duke tossed out the words. Galahad suppressed a groan.

“She was looking for you.”

“I'm so outstanding that I'm in demand everywhere.”

Galahad answered as casually as he could.

The corners of the Grand Duke's mouth rose. A smile usually softened a person's features, but with him it was the opposite. He looked even fiercer, like a predator about to tear out its prey's throat.

How had that demon-beast produced Adrianna? His wife must have been an extraordinary beauty.

“So it's because of your abilities?”

The Grand Duke's quiet question sounded like an interrogation. Galahad's mind raced.

Would the princess have pulled some blatant bullshit? She was dealing with the Grand Duke. Her messenger would surely have been inspected before leaving the imperial palace.

There would have been nothing personal in the letter.

Having finished his calculations, Galahad smiled.

“It's all because I'm so capable and handsome.”

A low laugh escaped the Grand Duke, yet strangely, the atmosphere grew even sharper.

Galahad's back prickled and his throat felt dry. It was like sticking his head into a predator's jaws.

He unobtrusively wrapped himself in mana and assessed what might happen. Once he was prepared for contingencies, he quietly looked up at the Grand Duke.

“I see.”

The Grand Duke rose. Despite the room's high ceiling, his standing made it feel full.

He was truly enormous.

He approached Galahad. With every step, Galahad circulated his mana, finding it increasingly difficult to keep smiling.

The Grand Duke stopped nearby—precisely within arm's reach.

Galahad's hair stood on end, but he lowered his hands as though nothing were wrong.

Standing directly before him, the Grand Duke stared at him in silence. His gaze was so hot that Galahad felt as though his eyes were burning, but he did not look away.

Could he kill him?

His occupational instincts began creeping in.

'That would be difficult.'

Just as Galahad began revising his calculations in light of that conclusion, the Grand Duke spoke.

“Adultery is punishable by death.”

His voice was firm. His eyes indicated a spot to one side.

There was an empty space between the mounted heads of a dragonlike demon-beast and a bearlike one.

The display was arranged in order of increasing importance toward the inside. That meant the spot right beside the Grand Duke had to be a very important one.

And such an important spot was empty...

'There was definitely something there last time.'

Galahad's memory could not be wrong, so the space must have been newly cleared.

Why go to the trouble of clearing a space, then point it out?

The intention was obvious.

“I'll bear that in mind.”

Galahad rubbed his inexplicably chilly neck as he answered.

The Grand Duke's lips curled into another fierce smile.

“You will handle the Imperial Princess.”

With those quiet words, the Grand Duke returned to his seat and closed his eyes.

The audience seemed to be over, so Galahad headed for the door. At the threshold, he ventured a question.

“But we haven't even had a wedding or an engagement ceremony yet, have we?”

“What—”

At the sight of the Grand Duke's glaring eyes, Galahad hastily shut the door.

Thankfully, it did not open again.

Galahad slowly released the breath he had been holding.

'The Grand Duke cares a great deal about his daughter.'

That was only natural, since Adrianna was his only child, but the Grand Duke was a man who had claimed his seat through the blood of his own brothers and kin.

He had never taken any notable action on Adrianna's behalf, either, so whether he cherished her had remained uncertain. She had risen through her own abilities; he had effectively left her to her own devices.

Yet he had summoned Galahad to warn him.

'Adrianna is his weakness.'

His occupational instincts were incorrigible.

Muttering bitterly, Galahad put a cigarette between his lips.

Leaving the princess to him meant he was to sort things out himself.

'Sort things out, huh.'

His thoughts were tangled.

Just then, measured footsteps sounded behind him. Metal clinked, but the sound was controlled and light—the mark of a highly skilled knight.

He turned to find an imposing knight in heavy silver armor.

It was Liam, commander of the Second Battalion.

'They said he was the real power among the commanders, didn't they?'

Galahad recalled what he had heard.

The Grand Duke never left his castle, and Adrianna did nothing but hunt Demons along the border. Consequently, the Second Battalion commander was considered to wield the greatest actual influence.

Apart from the Fifth, Seventh, and First Battalions, which had ties to Galahad, it was fair to say that all the battalions were under the Second Battalion's sway.

Some even said his skill rivaled Adrianna's. Indeed, before Galahad arrived, Liam had been considered a leading candidate for her husband.

Given all that, Galahad naturally expected Liam to pick a fight.

Contrary to his expectations, Liam greeted him first.

“Good to meet you, Commander Galahad.”

Liam casually removed his gauntlet and offered his hand.

His eyes were clear and steady. A knight's eyes.

“Good to meet you, Liam.”

They shook hands. Liam's hand was hard and covered in calluses, every bit as rough as Gilberton's.

Galahad let his mana flow out by habit. Liam's mana was utterly ordinary.

“Your hand is as soft as a woman's.”

“And yours is as rough as a demon-beast's.”

“It's a northern hand.”

Galahad had expected at least a contest of strength, but Liam released his hand without any fuss.

“I've heard of your recent accomplishments. You prevented a crisis that could have done great harm to the North. Impressive.”

What followed was also contrary to his expectations: a blunt compliment.

“I merely did what needed doing.”

“I see. I hear you're taking part in the duels against the Empire.”

“That's right.”

“You, too, are a commander of the North. Losing to the Empire would be a disgrace, so do your utmost.”

“Thank you for your concern, but you'd do better to worry about yourself. The Empire's knight won't be an easy opponent.”

“Good. You're confident.”

Liam nodded at him without a hint of offense.

“But as a commander of the North, I will never lose to an Imperial bastard.”

His voice brimmed with confidence.

“Fight well.”

With that brief farewell, Liam walked past him.

Galahad briefly considered their exchange. Those clear eyes, that overflowing confidence—and he had mentioned the North four times in that short conversation.

'He's a fanatic for the North.'

Clicking his tongue, Galahad shook out his hand.

The biggest problem right now was the princess.

He turned to look out the window.

'Should I get rid of her cleanly?'

His eyes darkened.

* * *

News of the Imperial Princess's arrival threw the Grand Duke's castle into an uproar. Since dueling was the pretext for her visit, a peculiar tension hung in the air.

As always, the Grand Duke issued no orders. Even so, they could hardly receive the princess without any preparations. Everyone took it upon themselves to act, determined to show that the North remained strong.

Soon, tension filled the castle.

When the sun reached its highest point, a faint sound came from somewhere.

It was music. Turning toward it, they saw a golden carriage in the distance.

Made of gold and glittering magnificently, the carriage almost looked as though the sun had melted into it.

Knights in golden armor rode ahead as escorts. The quality of their dazzling armor went without saying, and their horses' coats gleamed.

The music grew louder. It came from behind the carriage, where an open-topped carriage followed the golden one.

A variety of musicians rode in it, their hands moving busily over different instruments. Pleasant melodies filled the air.

A carriage accompanied by golden-armored knights and even music, here in the desolate North... The soldiers' expressions turned peculiar.

'Same as ever.'

Galahad clicked his tongue and studied the procession. Most were imperial knights, but there was a familiar face among them.

The man sported a splendid mustache and had several long banners mounted on his back.

Recognizing him, Galahad let out a low hum.

“Is that a knight you know?”

Gilberton pointed at him. Galahad nodded.

“Sir Paul Berian. A dueling specialist whose hobby is taking his opponents' banners in duels.”

“Is he strong?”

“Count the banners on his back.”

Gilberton narrowed his eyes at Galahad's prompting.

“There are only ten.”

“The lowest-ranking one belongs to a count's house.”

Gilberton pressed his lips shut. A fierce desire to test himself blazed in his eyes.

'Paul Berian... '

Galahad murmured to himself as he looked at the familiar banners.

He had expected the princess to come well prepared, but she had brought someone even more troublesome than he had anticipated.

She must have lured him with the prospect of fighting northern knights. He was driven by his desire for a challenge. But Paul Berian served someone else. He could not act so freely.

'Don't tell me... '

The carriages drew nearer, and the music swelled. It quickened, building toward a crescendo.

The musicians' faces were drenched in sweat. They plucked and struck their instruments like mad, as though stopping would mean death.

That bizarre desperation spread through the melody, and a strange tension settled over the crowd.

The instant the soaring performance cut off, the carriage stopped.

Galahad frowned at the sound of Gilberton swallowing.

A familiar knight approached the carriage.

'Devan.'

The princess's knight, Devan. He was quite a good knight.

Devan respectfully opened the door.

A long, pale leg emerged from the carriage.

Gasps of admiration rose from all around.

Then a red-haired woman slowly stepped out. She was merely alighting from a carriage, yet she was elegant and regal, grace incarnate. There was not the slightest flaw in her movements.

As the princess stepped down, exclamations of admiration erupted everywhere.

Accepting the gazes pouring in from every direction with ease, the princess looked around.

She appeared to be searching for something, and Galahad frowned.

Then her gaze landed squarely on him. She had found him amid the crowd without a moment's hesitation, making his throat feel inexplicably scratchy.

At the sight of him, she smiled.

Cheers erupted again. The same men who had treated the Empire as a mortal enemy before her arrival were now gaping in admiration.

“Sir Gilberton, close your mouth.”

“... Huh?”

Galahad clicked his tongue and stepped forward.

The princess was already walking toward him. She did not blink once.

Everyone's attention was focused on them.

The Grand Duke would be watching too, even if he pretended otherwise. More importantly, Adrianna was right beside him.

If anything went wrong here, things would become exceedingly troublesome.

But the princess was not someone who cared about such things.

She was, after all, exalted imperial royalty.

The princess stopped before him, her lips curving into a broad smile.

Her smile was a flower in full bloom. An overpowering floral fragrance filled the air.

Before her blood-red lips could part, Galahad snapped his fingers.

A light barrier surrounded them.

The problem was Adrianna.

“Thank you for visiting the North. I am Galahad, your appointed guide.”

He spoke while casting a sidelong glance at Adrianna.

“It has been some time, Your Highness. Adrianna, at your service.”

Despite her greeting, the princess never took her eyes off Galahad.

Her eyes were badly bloodshot. She had not blinked once since seeing him.

Then the princess's lips slowly parted.

Her first words were unexpectedly blunt.

“I missed you.”

Adrianna's eyebrows twitched violently. Without realizing it, she turned to Galahad.

His usual easy expression was gone, replaced by a slight frown.

“I can't say I particularly missed you.”

The irritation in his voice startled Adrianna.

He was speaking to an imperial princess. How could he be so rude?

“You haven't changed. What a relief.”

Instead, the princess's smile deepened.

“Neither have you, Your Highness. Fucking unfortunately.”

Adrianna's eyes widened at language so uncharacteristically crude for Galahad.

The princess laughed aloud, but her eyes did not smile.

“Goodwill duels? Have you finally found a place to die?”

“Didn't I tell you? You'll be buried with me.”

“And I distinctly remember refusing.”

“I told you refusal was not permitted.”

The barbed exchange continued.

Adrianna unconsciously took a step back.

“Bring the gift.”

A knight moved at the princess's command. He carefully produced a box, lavishly wrapped with red cord.

“A gift? I don't need one.”

“But you'll like it.”

Galahad's frown deepened.

The princess handed him the gift, and he tore open the box irritably.

Standing beside him, Adrianna found herself stealing a look inside.

It contained what appeared to be a man's finger.

With a ring on it.

Her eyes widened at the sight.

Then Galahad said,

“Well, now.”

And broke into a broad smile.

Watching the two face each other, Adrianna felt a strange sense of distance.

'A ring...?'

Her eyebrows lowered.