13.

At the sudden loud noise, Riad reflexively pulled Henesstia close, turning his body swiftly. Though he shielded her, she could still see what was happening from within his embrace.

A group of knights, seemingly unaware of their arrival, were engaged in a fierce sparring match, wielding real swords. One of the men had fallen to the ground, covered in dirt as if he had rolled in it, and was now twitching on the ground.

Henesstia’s eyes widened in shock.

However, the man quickly raised himself up, shouting.

“Damn it! Let’s go again!”

Blood was running down his face. Henesstia’s stomach churned, her throat tightening as if she’d swallowed something wrong. She pressed a hand to her chest, her heart racing wildly.

“Hey, take it easy! If you push too hard, you’ll be on death’s door tonight!”

“I don’t care!”

“Fine, go ahead and charge at me. Don’t worry, even if something happens, I’ll carry your head back to the count’s estate.”

“Make sure to bring my body, too!”

“Your body? It wouldn’t be a bad idea to use it as fertilizer for the fields. See those red fruits over there? They’re probably that color from drinking the blood of fools who died being too stubborn like you.”

“Ugh! Just wait, I’ll be the one who wins today!”

Despite the wounds and the rough sparring, the knights seemed to be enjoying themselves. They treated the blood and injuries as if they were nothing, eagerly preparing for another round.

But Henesstia saw things differently.

The sight of blood made her stomach turn, and the raw, unfiltered conversations hit her ears like a sharp sting. Every time the sharp blades clashed against one another, her thin frame shuddered involuntarily.

“Oh no! They don’t realize the Count has arrived!”

Exclaimed a nearby knight, stamping his foot in frustration as if ready to run over to stop the fight.

With each clash of the swords, Henesstia’s complexion grew worse. She covered her mouth with her hand, leaning forward, and Riad quickly steadied her.

“What’s wrong?”

‘What’s wrong?’

Henesstia thought.

‘How could they act like it’s nothing when there’s so much blood?’

Was this normal for them because they were so used to it?

“Oh… perhaps the scene is too much for the lady.”

The knight nearby said, noticing her distress.

“It’s not exactly the kind of thing a lady would enjoy,” Riad murmured.

Her insides twisted painfully.

Seeing Henesstia curling up more tightly without responding, Riad’s hand on her back became a little more urgent.

“Stop them,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir!”

The knight, who had been waiting, rushed over to halt the sparring knights. There were some grumbles and noise at first, but soon things quieted down.

The knights, startled, hurriedly gathered their gear and made their way toward Riad, only to stop and hesitate when they met his gaze. Instead of approaching, they bowed their heads in greeting from a distance and disappeared.

“What should we do about the commanders, then? Should I inform them that the Count and the lady are here?”

Asked the knight, casting a glance at Henesstia as he spoke. Henesstia’s breath caught in her throat.

The commanders… She was supposed to greet them, wasn’t she? It wouldn’t be appropriate to delay the introductions until tomorrow.

But could she do it? Could she face them?

The scene she had just witnessed, coupled with the memories of being treated harshly by the soldiers at the Baron’s estate, resurfaced all at once, overwhelming her.

‘The knights… they should be different, right?’

She tried to reassure herself.

Her hands trembled slightly, and she clenched them together tightly to stop herself from biting her nails.

Henesstia was well aware of Riad’s knights, the Evgenia Knights.

Each noble family was only allowed to establish one knightly order, but Riad Ingel, with the Emperor’s strong support, had five. Unlike the older, more experienced knightly orders, the young and inexperienced Evgenia Knights had initially been dismissed by many. But now, they were considered even more skilled than the Imperial Knights.

The thought of these knights made Henesstia’s stomach churn with unease.

‘And to think… they probably don’t look favorably upon me either.’

After the wedding, she had been confined to the castle, but how could Henesstia not be aware of the rumors about her?

Not only was she branded as the woman who stole the man the princess loved, but there were also far worse accusations. It was said she lived off the wealth of the Baron’s estate, indulging in lavish spending. The rumors stretched as far as claiming she had blackmailed the Baron’s couple into forcing the marriage while Riad Ingel was away at war. From bullying servants to treating the Baron’s commoner-born family like slaves, these falsehoods had become widely accepted truths.

Even those Henesstia had once mingled with in high society had turned their backs on her, now speaking ill of her. They painted her as a demanding, ill-tempered woman who abused her noble status to mistreat others.

How would the knights she was about to meet be any different?

Surely, they too held similar views. She couldn’t shake the fear—what if one of them, driven by loyalty to Riad, drew their sword against her in defense of his honor?

‘I… I don’t know.’

She thought, her mind spinning in uncertainty.

It seemed like a wild, irrational thought, but Henesstia’s anxiety refused to let her dismiss it. The rustling of nearby leaves made her flinch, and even the chirping of birds felt unsettling.

“The commanders…,” she began to say.

But then, she raised her hand and gripped Riad’s sleeve, stopping him mid-sentence.

He turned to face her, waiting for her to continue.

She couldn’t tell what expression she had on her face—she only hoped that it was as calm and composed as always, that she was projecting the noble dignity she had been taught to maintain. At the very least, she hoped it concealed the desperation beneath.

“I… I’d like to go back to the room,” she said softly.

Her voice flowed with a gentle accent, calm and composed.

Nothing would be more humiliating than showing her weakness now.

Henesstia knew her limits all too well. If she were to meet the knights now, she feared she’d expose the most fragile parts of herself.

When had she started to fear people like this? Once, she had confidently exchanged pleasantries with aristocrats from noble knightly families, walked through gardens with her escorts, and shared light jokes. Back then, she carried herself with elegance, accepting courtesies like kisses on her hand without a second thought.

And what had happened to the woman who could stand in front of the Emperor, poised and steady, engaging in relaxed conversation?

That version of herself seemed lost—she couldn’t find her.

Henesstia felt like something inside her had twisted and broken beyond repair. But the words had already left her lips.

“I just need to rest… Riding the horse has made me feel unwell.”

All she could do now was hide this wretched version of herself.

Concealing this pitiful sight was her last shred of dignity.

Even if it meant violating the etiquette she so despised, the only thing left for her was to keep her mask intact.

“Could you… do that for me?”

She asked softly, clutching Riad’s sleeve tightly.

If he refused, she had no other options.

She clung desperately to the fraying mask, hoping against hope.

For a long moment, Riad said nothing. He remained silent, not giving any verbal response. Instead, he pulled his coat over her head and turned around without a word.

* * *

At an inn near the Ingel Barony’s estate, in a small village, a group of men sat around a table, their silence hanging heavy despite the feast laid out before them. Plates of food and drinks were stacked high, but none of them moved to eat or speak.

The first to break the uneasy silence was a red-haired man sitting at a table slightly away from the others, along with just three companions.

“So… the Count is bringing the Ardin princess here, isn’t he?”

Asked Bron Kalife, the commander of the third division of Riad Ingel’s Evgenia Knights.

The men around him, lost in their own thoughts, showed a variety of reactions to his question.

“From what I heard yesterday… yes, they’ll be here today,” responded Cedric, the fourth division commander, with a disgruntled tone, while picking at his food.

For a while, an awkward silence reigned again, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife.

“The princess didn’t even come out to greet the Count when he returned,” Cedric muttered, his tone laced with annoyance.

“But personally, I like the idea of having a lady around. After all, we’ve only been surrounded by men for too long.”

Said Ignis, the commander of the first division, almost at the same time, his words overlapping with the rest.

The two commanders exchanged glances, their opposing statements hanging in the air, until Bron sighed and intervened.

“Enough, both of you. Just eat your food.”

The group seated at the table consisted of four commanders from the five divisions of Riad Ingel’s knightly force. These men were known as the blood knights, warriors who followed Riad into battle, declaring victory wherever they went. Yet, their mood was far from celebratory, and discontent simmered among them.

Bron stretched his stiff shoulders and glanced at the uneaten food before him, a strained smile on his face.

“We’ve spent half a year on the battlefield, and now we have to face the famous princess we’ve only heard rumors about. It feels strange”

He said, his tone gentle but carrying an unmistakable hint of resentment.

Smiling awkwardly, Bron lifted his glass instead of reaching for the food.

“If we’re lucky, maybe we’ll just catch a glimpse of her. But no, we’re to serve the Ardin princess as our lady,” added Cedric, his words hanging heavy in the air.

The other commanders exchanged uneasy looks. Cedric, not one to leave things unsaid, continued.

“We could’ve headed straight back to the Count’s estate, but no, we had to detour to the Barony to bring her along. And did you see that carriage? There’s no way that thing will make it through the forest path, so instead of the usual five-day journey, we’re looking at two weeks just to get back.”

Though Cedric kept his voice low, the irritation was clear in every word.

“Not exactly a welcome home party for anyone, is it?” Edin, the fifth division commander, quipped with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

“I don’t mind it. Come on, let’s not get all stiff and serious about this,” he added, raising his glass cheerfully.

“Well, if you’re that eager, you can take on the role of serving her,” Cedric shot back.

Edin quickly closed his mouth, scratching the side of his head and shrugging exaggeratedly.

“It’s not that. I mean, I’m a commoner, right? She’s royalty, so it’s not like she’s going to look kindly on someone like me,” Edin replied.

Ignis, who had been quiet until now, put down his glass with a sharp thud and lifted his head.

“Half our knights are commoners. If she looks down on you for that, the Count won’t stand for it. And if that’s how she thinks, then she’s not much of a lady,” Ignis said, his usually measured tone carrying an edge of frustration.

Edin chuckled, crossing his legs.

“I don’t care how she treats me, but with more knights at the Count’s estate than servants, she’ll have to learn to get along.”

While Edin was half-heartedly defending the princess, he too doubted she would settle into the Count’s estate easily.

The Count’s household was home to one of the largest knightly forces in the empire, second only to the Imperial Knights themselves.

These knights weren’t just soldiers—they were the elite, chosen solely for their skill, with half of them being commoners. This gave the Ingel Barony a unique dynamic, one which might not be easy for a noblewoman like Henesstia to adapt to.

“Henesstia Ardin…”

Cedric murmured, breaking the silence that had fallen over the group once more.

None of them referred to her as “Ingel.” She was still Henesstia Ardin to them.

Even though they hadn’t met her yet, the name carried weight. Henesstia Ardin, the only daughter of the House of Ardin, and the sole blood relative of Heron Ardin, the Duke admired and feared in equal measure across the empire.

Though the Ardin family had fallen into disrepair due to the previous Duke’s vices, Henesstia’s status was still that of a noblewoman of the highest pedigree—perhaps even the empire’s most eligible bachelorette, alongside the princess herself. In this light, Riad Ingel’s marriage to her was seen as a triumph.

But no one at the table could forget the stark reality of how that marriage came about.

They all remembered the white messenger pigeon drenched in blood—bringing news of an arranged marriage—and the one-sided announcement that followed.

The marriage wasn’t the result of love, but a cold, calculated move.

“…What a headache.”

Cedric muttered, rubbing his temples, looking as though he might slam his head into the table.

Edin patted his back, trying to keep things light.

“Hey, come on, surely not all those rumors are true, right? These things always get exaggerated.”

Cedric shot back with a groan.

“Even if only half of them are true, it’s still a problem!”

“Okay, okay, calm down. People can hear you,” Edin said, patting Cedric’s back.

The rumors surrounding Henesstia seemed endless.

At that moment, a knight burst into the inn.

“Commander Ignis!”

He called out, urgency lacing his voice. The knights, still on edge from their recent return from battle, snapped to attention.

Ignis rose, followed by the others.

“The Count and… the Lady have arrived!” the knight announced breathlessly.

“Where are they now?” Ignis asked.

“They’re over by the stables—”

Before the knight could finish, the commanders moved to leave.

But the knight, clearly panicked, rushed to stop them.

“What is it?”

Ignis asked coldly, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

The knight stammered.

“I-it’s just that… the Count has gone straight to the inn with the lady… She asked to go to her room immediately…”

The commanders paused, their tension palpable.

It was standard protocol for the lady of the house to greet the commanders of the household upon arrival. It was a matter of respect and etiquette.

“I think she might have been startled by the knights sparring outside…” the knight added hesitantly.

“You don’t need to make excuses for her,” Ignis snapped, his face twisting in displeasure.

The commanders had been preparing to meet Henesstia, ready to offer their greetings. But now, it seemed the princess had already lived up to the rumors—aloof, proud, and above the customs of ordinary nobles.

Ignis’s expression darkened, and the atmosphere grew even tenser.