Ch#48
***
***
Thus, the Eastern Kingdom fell to the Empire. Having lost their queen and surrendered unconditionally, the Empire deposed her and turned them into a full vassal state. The gold and silver seized from Narande alone exceeded the reparations from the entire Southern Kingdom.
The Imperial Army cheered and returned to the Empire in triumph.
But Victor Morte found no relief.
His nightmares persisted, and lulling him to sleep had become a battle in itself.
He suffered so greatly that he sought sleeping draughts, magic, and even slashed at himself with a sword. Nothing could harm him.
The Grand Duke was disillusioned.
The queen had rendered him incapable of taking his own life.
‘So, who can do it?’
‘Who can put me to sleep and end this torment?’
‘The strongest knight on the continent? Who?’
***
He could not recall what happened afterward. The fact that he made it back to the Empire without falling from his horse was solely due to his superhuman strength and the queen’s curse. Well, not precisely the queen’s curse.
No one dared approach the knight with his terrifying aura. Even the Emperor dismissed him after a few curt words.
Victor refused all banquets and secluded himself in his capital mansion. He did so only at the insistence of Diederick and Sumona. They refused to let him sleep in the training grounds outside the capital, insisting they could not allow their master to suffer in such squalor and that they would assist with his treatment.
Victor simply nodded. He was too weary to resist.
In this manner, his mansion became a battlefield. By day, his knights consulted renowned physicians and healers; by night, they stood guard in the halls.
Dreadful rumors began circulating in the capital.
That the Grand Duke of Morte had gone mad and needed to be confined, or that the Knights of Morte would revolt.
Though mere rumors, terrified nobles severed ties with Morte. Even his fiancée, Nanael Welch, dared not visit.
The mansion, still bearing traces of Mortheon, grew ever more desolate.
The Grand Duke blamed himself for it all.
His people suffered, the war dragged on, and countless lives were lost.
Morte was stained with blood; his mother had died, his father departed, and proper funerals for his brother and comrades could not be held.
He could not sleep, and his throbbing head refused to quiet.
An ancient melancholy gnawed at his body.
Then, one day, his knights brought news.
“A man from the Welch Duchy visited today. He inquired about your intentions regarding the engagement.”
“If I were him, I wouldn’t dream of shoving his daughter into my bedchamber.”
The Grand Duke replied grimly. Leonard nodded.
“We explained the situation and offered compensation… but to no avail. They won’t pass up such an opportunity.”
“Are they fine with a madman for a groom? I am mad.”
Leonard fell silent. Beside him, Carlz spoke sternly.
“Well, they’re the mad ones. There’s even a rumor in the capital that Your Highness brings knights into the mansion every night to… entertain you.”
“What?”
“This is why I can’t fathom etiquette. How ridiculous to bar anyone but a wife from a bedchamber?”
Carlz grumbled.
The Grand Duke zoned out momentarily. Normally, he would rage at such slanderous rumors, but his exhausted body harbored other thoughts.
‘Wife.’
The seat of Grand Duchess, coveted by the Duke of Welch. A woman who could attend him by night and day without scandal. No healer or wizard could cure him… but a knight?
At that instant, the battlefield tale resurfaced in his mind.
Rumors of the kingdom’s mightiest knight.
The Grand Duke stated abruptly.
“Bring her.”
“Who?”
“The strongest knight in the kingdom, as Jane described. If it’s her, she could watch over me at night and end this Welch nonsense.”
The knights exchanged bewildered looks.
“Do you believe the rumors? Didn’t Jane say it was just a tall tale?”
“And I wonder if Your Highness could endure such a long journey…”
The Grand Duke offered no reply, gazing out the window.
Frankly, he had nearly abandoned hope of treatment.
Medicine and poison failed; magic was futile.
Moreover, Victor was agonizingly strong.
The knights guarding him were sustaining ever graver injuries.
His wife needed to be stronger than him, able to subdue him unscathed.
Yet the Grand Duke had never encountered anyone superior.
He held little expectation, but if she proved strong enough, she might defeat—or even slay—him if unable to calm him.
Victor resolved to hold on a while longer.
***
The knights ultimately obeyed their lord and planned the journey to the kingdom. The Knights of Morte departed the capital discreetly, heading north.
Throughout, Victor remained confined in his carriage like a prisoner.
Weeks later, upon reaching the North, the king knew precisely whom they meant.
The northern maiden presented before them spoke politely.
“I am Amarion of Amari, Your Highness.”
She appeared truly formidable.
Her eyes bespoke a warrior seasoned by countless battles.
In that moment, Victor knew.
If this woman could truly best him, he would bestow upon her all his wealth. Upon his death, he would cede his title to her; until then, he would elevate her to the Empire’s greatest lady.
The Grand Duke made his offer, and the lady accepted.
Returning from their arduous voyage, Victor barred the gates and stationed knights in the garden.
“If she screams, come to her aid. Otherwise, do not intervene. Even if she’s injured.”
He lay upon the bed.
‘Now, truly, I anticipate the end.’
***
And the next day.
“…You’re alive.”
The Grand Duke had survived until dawn.
“Did you want me dead?”
Victor beheld a white silhouette huddled by the window.
A face averting his gaze, long platinum hair, slender arms, and a weary expression.
Yet her hand clutched her sword.
The Grand Duke regarded her in wonder.
“No, it’s just… I’m surprised.”
Suddenly, his world upended. Victor envisioned a future, something denied him for so long.
The more time he spent with her, the stranger it felt.
He had never met such a singular person.
She was his equal in strength.
She was a peerless knight willing to devote her nights to the afflicted.
All his instincts overwhelmed him, and the Grand Duke clung to her like a child.
His sole thought: he could not lose her.
It was madness, but he cared not.
Be it strength, power, gold, or his body.
He would give it all.
As long as he could keep her precious, safe, and alive at his side.
He resolved to do what he never had before.
Thus, Victor concealed himself utterly.
He strove not to frighten her, played the gentleman, and masked his true nature.
Simultaneously, he swaddled her world in softness, like a cotton blanket.
Safely, without wandering, he wished her to see and hear only good things.
He locked her door lest anyone steal her away.
He faltered clumsily at times, yet in the end, all fell into place.
In the early morn, Victor kissed his wife’s forehead and vowed.
‘I will protect you with my life. My savior, my sole reborn family.’
‘The only one who can grant me life and death.’
“…Marion.”
‘You, only you, no one else…’
Morte’s summer peaked. Morning sun flooded her window.
Amarion rubbed her eyes and rose from bed. As ever, the spot beside her lay empty. Ringing the bell summoned her maids with honey tea and a water basin.
Sipping her tea, she inquired.
“Where is he?”
“His Highness finished breakfast and entered his study.”
“Very well, thank you.”
The maids stared.
She feigned ignorance, washing her face with cool water from the basin.
Two weeks had passed since her strange cold war with Victor began.
She had avoided him since the executions; he made no effort to seek her.
She remained bewildered. Victor, ever kind and affable, proved cruel enough to send men to the gallows without hesitation.
The illusions she had nurtured shattered. Distress and emptiness lingered.
In sour spirits, she ate a cream-topped mushroom pie. Once finished, Mary ventured cautiously.
“Madame, the vassals await again today, hoping to see you. Shall you?”
She sighed.
Since the executions’ cancellation, vassals visited daily.
They sought to express gratitude.
Yet she turned them away repeatedly.
She had saved them out of knightly duty; she sought no thanks.
Besides, some had spread vile rumors recently.
Thus, today she repeated.
“Send them away.”
“Yes, madame.”
Mary bowed and departed.
***
