A Thousand Faces and a Vanished Body

Heronie and Ilisia once again found themselves sharing the same carriage.

“Adrian may seem meticulous and quiet…” Heronie began, her usual icy demeanor returning, “but in truth, he is an absolute madman.”

Ilisia remained silent.

“His mind is always occupied with other matters. The feelings we girls have for him…” A flicker of melancholy crossed Heronie’s eyes. “Alas, perhaps I am merely deluding myself.”

“Have you known him for a long time?” Ilisia ventured.

“We were pen pals for many years, and… colleagues, of a sort, I suppose.” Heronie avoided Ilisia’s gaze, twisting a lock of her own hair as she continued, almost to herself. “Ever since I was a child, I’ve seen the world as a place filled with insincere smiles and foolish arrogance. The ambitions of those self-righteous imbeciles are nothing more than petty schemes.”

“I have never bothered to hide my contempt, nor have I deigned to indulge their insignificant egos. People look at me with awe, with envy, and some even foolishly imagine they could conquer me. But they fail to understand that I wouldn’t deign to waste a moment of my time on them.”

Heronie paused.

“Adrian, however, is different.”

“I realized it the very first time he wrote to me. He is far too clever, always able to discern my thoughts, leaving me to drown day after day in his sweet words. At times, I know full well he is using me, seeking to leverage the Order behind me for his own plans, yet I find myself utterly powerless to resist.”

“He drives me mad. He makes me jealous. He turns me into someone I don’t recognize. Whenever he shows even the slightest interest in another girl, my blood begins to boil, and I want nothing more than to tear apart any ignorant creature that dares to approach him.”

“To think you would tell me all this…” Ilisia said, taken aback.

The Heronie in Adrian’s presence and the one without him were like two completely different people.

“Which is why I hope you can forgive my loss of composure in front of him just now, as well as my rudeness toward you.” Heronie stared directly into Ilisia’s eyes. “And I hope you will not speak of that side of me to anyone else.”

“I understand,” Ilisia nodded. “So, you intend to help him to the very end?”

“Only I can help him.” Heronie straightened up, leaning forward from the back of her seat. “And you… if you are not truly in love with him, you would be wise to stay far away.”

Ilisia’s brow furrowed slightly.

“Do his peculiarities not frighten you?” Heronie asked. “Take tonight, for instance. He defeated a swordsman hailed as a once-in-a-century genius using a style no one has ever seen before…”

“I will judge for myself what kind of person he is,” Ilisia replied, her expression hardening.

‘She had a feeling Heronie’s earlier confession was just a ploy to test her.’

“Adrian has a thousand faces, and the one you’ve seen is likely just one of them,” Heronie said. “Can you truly tell the difference?”

“That’s still better than a hypocrite,” Ilisia retorted.

Heronie offered no response. For the remainder of the journey, they rode in silence.

Ilisia fiddled with the box Adrian had given her. Seeing the lock of jet-black hair inside, her heart settled slightly.

The scenery outside the window blurred past, yet Ilisia felt not the slightest hint of drowsiness…

****

The day after the banquet, Duke Wenser departed with his retinue.

Accompanying the Duke was his second son, Simon Wenser.

Duchess Wenser, Charles, and the sisters remained to watch over the castle, serving as its temporary masters in their father’s absence.

The days had never felt so long to Ilisia.

So many of her questions remained unanswered, and her father had not proposed the marriage contract to the Delarose family after the banquet.

As for the lock of hair Adrian had given her, Ilisia had actually taken it to a priest for inspection.

“My lady, this is not human hair,” the priest had informed her. “It is hair pulled from a horse’s tail.”

Ilisia had been deceived again.

She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, and could only ride back to the castle in a state of vexation.

Of course, Ilisia soon had no time to dwell on such a trivial matter.

On a sweltering afternoon, a message arrived from the west gate, delivered by a cavalryman who had ridden through seven horses just to reach the city as quickly as possible.

“What do we do? What do we do…”

When Ilisia returned home, she found Charles, her mother, and her sisters gathered together, their faces etched with panic.

“What has happened?” Ilisia asked.

“Duke Lawrence has also turned traitor,” Duchess Wenser informed Ilisia, her voice heavy. “His army, along with the rebels at the border, ambushed your father.”

“Father and his vassals are now encircled by the enemy. Some of the lords have already surrendered,” her eldest sister, Matilda, added.

“Father is defeated… defeated…” Charles stammered, looking utterly lost. “Are we going to die…?”

Slap!

Duchess Wenser struck Charles across the face.

“You are the eldest son of this family! Have you no backbone? Your sisters haven’t shed a tear, yet you are the first to weep!” Duchess Wenser scolded sharply before commanding, “Go find the captain of the guard. Have him take you to visit the nearby lords who still have forces.”

Clutching his face, Charles stumbled out of the room.

Hearing her brother say their father was going to die, Katelyn, the youngest Wenser daughter, burst into tears with a wail.

Duchess Wenser pulled Katelyn into her arms, comforting her in a soothing voice.

“My dear daughters, we mustn’t worry. The king’s army is already marching to our aid.” The Duchess’s expression softened into a gentle one. “I will also write to your grandfather and ask him to dispatch his troops as soon as possible.”

In truth, Duchess Wenser was terrified, but with her husband trapped in the enemy’s encirclement, she could not afford to simply weep and pray within the castle walls.

She had to take every possible measure, and quickly.

Ilisia was not as strong as her mother. While she worried for her father, the thought that Adrian was also among the deployed forces made her heart clench.

‘He might as well be dead!’

A few tears escaped from Ilisia’s eyes. Fearing her mother and sisters would see, she hastily wiped her cheeks.

‘Adrian can’t really be dead, can he…?’

Letter after letter was sent from the castle, and the lords who had not been previously summoned began to gather their troops in the outer city.

But this muster brought fewer than two thousand soldiers, many of whom were poorly trained militia armed with little more than scrap metal.

“I am going to reinforce your father. You will all stay here and behave.”

Duchess Wenser mounted her warhorse and departed with the lords. They were to rendezvous with the advance party sent by Ilisia’s maternal grandfather at the Tidelands.

Reports from the front lines were brought back by raven…

…but they were all several days out of date.

During this time, something happened that brought Ilisia even more grief—Sherry, the maid who had served her since childhood, had died of illness.

In her final days, the maid’s complexion had become so pale it was almost translucent. Her skin had taken on a gelatinous quality, as if a thin mist veiled her very bones and muscles.

The Duchess had summoned four physicians for the poor maid, but all of them confessed they could not determine the cause of her illness and were thus unable to prescribe a treatment.

Sherry was first placed in the family crypt, in the room specifically meant for holding the dead, to await burial in a few days.

But then, something unexpected occurred.

Sherry’s body had vanished.