Political Marriage (3)

On the wedding day, Miraine rose earlier than planned and readied himself.

He received visitors and donned his knight uniform.

Having finished, Miraine silently gazed into the mirror. The young man reflected there, regardless of his inner turmoil, appeared utterly serene.

For a moment, Miraine studied himself in the mirror, then turned his head to stare out the window. He looked upon Wicker Castle, where a blue wind stirred.

“In the end, the Grand Duke is not coming,” he said.

The kind-faced old butler responded.

“If the two of you are to meet at the most beautiful time, with the strongest impression, in the most sacred place, what could be the problem?”

“You speak well.”

Laisa did not answer immediately, unexpectedly. Sensing something amiss, Miraine looked at her—her face was deathly pale.

Feeling his gaze, Laisa met his eyes with a quiet look and parted her lips.

“Do you hate me?”

A strange expression flickered across Miraine’s face.

For a long while, he did not speak.

She was Laisa, the Grand Duke’s closest henchwoman. She must be in charge of the estate’s entire surveillance network. Perhaps even now, she harbored thoughts of restraining him.

‘But why say such a thing to me?’

Why foolishly reveal her inner thoughts?

Swallowing his bewilderment, Miraine replied.

“If I hated people for every such reason, how could I have become the Knight Commander of the capital?”

Laisa’s expression grew subtle. Miraine chuckled softly and continued.

“I don’t want to hate people. Because I also don’t want to be hated. I’m trying my best to like them.”

Then he added.

“Actually, I just like them.”

A playful smile lingered on the young man’s lips. Laisa could not take her eyes off his face for a long time.

After a while, a cracked voice escaped her lips: “I’m sorry.”

Miraine did not respond, merely shaking his head.

The butler sighed.

“You are beautiful.”

“Really? That’s a relief.”

“Aren’t you afraid?”

“I am afraid.”

It was a soft voice.

“Overcoming it is what we do.”

The ‘we’ referred to knights.

The butler fell silent again.

Time passed, and she spoke calmly.

“Actually, I was very worried.”

“Worried?”

“…… Heh heh.”

Miraine raised his head.

A whisper, as if carried away by the wind, followed.

“But thinking about it now, I was worrying over nothing, just like back then.”

The old butler’s face was relaxed. Or perhaps it seemed filled with regret. Looking at her wrinkled face, Miraine suddenly realized that her eyes were remarkably beautiful and clear.

“Still, I must ask.”

And then came the words.

“I ask the son of Count Laster.”

At what followed, Miraine had no choice but to stiffen his face.

“If you could avoid this marriage, would you?”

A moment of silence passed.

Miraine met Laisa’s clear eyes without blinking. Her face was utterly calm.

‘Avoid? The marriage?’

That was absurd. The wedding was imminent. Could he escape from Wicker Castle, garrisoned with some of the continent’s finest troops?

Yet, confronted with that ridiculous question, Miraine could not answer for a long time.

‘If I could avoid it, would I?’

Then, suddenly, Miraine let out a low laugh.

“I don’t think this is… an interrogation. Somehow, you don’t seem the type.”

Laisa was the estate’s butler, a woman close to the Grand Duke. So this question was likely a trap she had set. A sharp trap that, once stepped on, would shatter the foot instantly.

But Miraine saw sincerity in her calm eyes.

“I will not run away.”

He made his choice.

A serene voice followed.

“Even if it is painful for me. Thinking of my people in the capital, I will live a new life in Wicker.”

He had finished his past life without regret.

“I am not despairing… My future will not be as bad as you think.”

Now the choice was irreversible.

“I will live in Wicker.”

Miraine smiled quietly.

If he ran away, would he truly be happy, bringing great disgrace upon the Grand Duke and living an ordinary life?

Already, many in the capital had shed tears for him. This marriage was like gunpowder sent by the Emperor’s faction to the Grand Duke. If he fled now, his personal safety would be assured, but many would bleed. Perhaps war would break out, causing huge waves.

To ignore that and live peacefully.

Miraine was not someone who could live so disgracefully.

“This is already out of my hands. Who knows what life in Wicker will be like? Even the gods do not know. And even if my life is unhappy… even if this marriage brings me sorrow…”

He took a breath and spoke his final words.

“I must bear this.”

Because it was already too late to turn back.

Having finished, Miraine stared at Laisa with a calm face. Laisa opened her lips after a long time.

“It will not be so unfortunate.”

At that clumsy consolation, Miraine could only let out a soft laugh.

****

Ordinarily, a wedding should be attended by both families. Even when marrying a local lord, it was proper for the head of the family to attend.

But the people of Wicker, who harbored great suspicion toward the Count Laster family, demanded a wedding attended only by Miraine Laster alone.

Partly because they did not wish to publicize a marriage with a bastard, and partly because they followed the tradition of Wicker. In Wicker, where the traditions of the Obert Empire were deeply rooted, weddings were still held modestly.

In the distant past, a marriage was simply a vow exchanged between lovers. Even now, with the Eloi faith accepted, marriage was permitted with just sexual intercourse and a priest’s recognition.

Wicker intended to follow the old tradition.

Thus, Miraine held a wedding in a modest chapel, one rather incongruous with the prestige of the Valenstein ducal house.

Hymns resounded, and Miraine’s eyes sank deeply.

He recalled the conversation they had just had.

—It will not be so unfortunate.

But Miraine knew.

That those words were merely illusions to comfort him.

He had no intention of indulging in fantasy and ignoring reality.

Miraine was wise. At least, he did not avoid what was coming for him.

He expected his future to be quite unfortunate.

This was, regardless of rumors, a gate to hell.

‘One day, I might be poisoned. One day, I might be stabbed in the dark and die.’

No one would care about an assassination disguised as an accident for a bastard. Even if the people of the capital cherished him, individual power was powerless against matters of imperial politics.

Moreover, if the rumors were true, Miraine’s future was bleak.

But he could not avoid it.

With a composed face, he attended the ceremony.

Until the Grand Duke appeared, Miraine Laster did not lose his calm expression.

Rather, it was when he faced the Grand Duke that he lost his composure.

‘……?’

The moment he first met the Grand Duke Valenstein of those rumors, Miraine felt as if hammer blows struck his head.

“Blessed by God, the glory of the Valenstein Grand Duchy is infinite and unending…”

The bishop recited the history of the Wicker ducal house and praised its glory, but Miraine simply stood frozen in place. The words did not reach him. What entered his left ear flowed out his right.

It took Miraine Laster quite some time to come to his senses.

‘This is the Grand Duke?’

Before him stood a man in a silver mask.

His slowly blinking eyes were as clear as the sea and sparkled like stars.

The scent of cedarwood, like that found in a deep forest at dawn, brushed the tip of his nose. The enchanting fragrance, accompanied by sacred bells ringing in his ears at that moment, drove Miraine’s mind far away.

His gaze was calm yet intense. So intense that it sent a shiver through the viewer, making it impossible to tear away from their mind.

Enough to stop thought.

At least outwardly, the Grand Duke did not seem like a monster. Not at all.

‘This is…’

Miraine’s lips parted slightly and then closed. He was quite bewildered.

His upright posture, with not even a hair’s breadth of imbalance, resembled a slender halberd, and his calm, deep eyes were cold. Though he exuded the authority befitting a high noble, that was all.

Where was the monster?

Only then did Miraine realize that Laisa’s words—that it would not be so unfortunate—were true. And at that moment, he made a strange expression, neither laughing nor crying.