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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: Wedding Preparations (2)
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Aracilla calmly put down the documents and spoke.
"Duchess, I believe your demands are excessive."
It was as if she intended to profit by selling her son. And this wasn't even a marriage where the Hugo Marquisate was starting at a disadvantage.
Meeting the Vandermir Ducal Family's demands would practically wipe out Aracilla's entire fortune.
"Why on earth a new mansion in the capital..."
"You said you'd be moving into the mansion Demian currently lives in after the wedding."
"Yes."
They had agreed not to find a new marital home. This was partly because they didn't know when they might divorce, and partly because Demian had strongly insisted on staying in his own house.
"That house originally belonged to our family, so Lady, you should compensate us accordingly."
"..."
But at this moment, Aracilla wished she could just find a separate marital home with her own money.
Rather than unfairly buying someone else's house, it would be far better to buy my own house with my own money.
"Duchess, why don't we find a reasonable compromise through mutual agreement instead?"
"There's no agreement, Lady. If you're taking someone's precious son, it's only natural to do this much. Surely you weren't planning on just taking him?"
The Duchess elegantly raised her teacup, spouting words that would utterly astound her own son if he heard them.
She was determined to make Aracilla break off the engagement herself, by any means necessary.
"One should have a conscience. Besides, Lady, you're just a mediocre Mage from the Magic Tower, but Demian is the Commander who leads the Knights."
"Madam, I apologize, but I am also a well-established Mage within the Magic Tower."
Aracilla's smile faltered; she could tolerate many things, but not having her career dismissed.
"Just a mediocre Mage"—it was insulting.
"So what? Demian is even a Sword Master. That's all thanks to our family sending him to study abroad, and since you'll be enjoying the fruits of that, you should repay us with the bridal gift."
Aracilla wondered what kind of mindset one would need to have such a strong sense of entitlement and desire for compensation against their own stepson.
Furthermore, it didn't seem as if she had raised Demian as preciously as she claimed.
'Who sends a fourteen-year-old child to study abroad alone in a foreign country?'
Demian wasn't called the "Stubborn Knight" for nothing. It was because he had stubbornly become a Sword Master in harsh conditions and returned.
Listening to the Duchess's words now, it sounded as if he had followed an elite path like a hothouse flower.
"I have no intention of compromising here, so if you can't manage, Lady, just call off the wedding."
The Duchess finally revealed her true intentions, her lips curling into a smile. Aracilla once again scanned the document filled with the outrageous sums.
The moment she refused payment, the Ducal Family would use it as an excuse to postpone the wedding.
They might even break off the engagement entirely and push for Iris and Oscar's marriage.
'At least this is a problem that can be solved by just giving money, so it's not so bad...'
Iris's life was more precious than gold, so even if her entire fortune was depleted, she could bear it.
"Duchess, it's difficult to prepare the bridal gift immediately, so please give me some time."
"Very well. But if you're going to give it, it must be within two weeks. Since you're the one who set the wedding for a month from now."
"I will. Do you have anything further to say?"
The Duchess set down her teacup and gazed at Aracilla. Her face, imbued with grace, made her seem like a model lady, well-educated and raised in a prestigious family.
She decided to benevolently offer advice to the young, foolish noble Lady who was about to marry her troublesome second son.
"Lady, I'm saying this like a daughter to me, so listen carefully."
"Yes, Madam."
"There's nothing good to gain from marrying Demian. My son will inherit the family, and you'll merely be the wife of a mere knight. Do you, born a daughter of a prestigious family, truly wish to live such a life?"
The Duchess herself, born a daughter of a minor Viscountcy, had risen to the position of Duchess of Vandermir.
It was the price for refusing proposals from mediocre men and enduring several years as the Duke's mistress.
'Most women want to achieve higher status through marriage. This Lady is no different.'
The Duchess smiled, seeing Aracilla silent and seemingly lost in thought. It was clear that hearing such words made her ponder.
However, what she overlooked was that while Aracilla did have a desire for advancement, she wished to achieve it herself, not through others.
Aracilla, who had listened carefully to the Duchess's words until the end, spoke in a clear voice.
"Isn't Sir Vandermir also your son, Madam?"
"…!"
The Duchess's expression hardened at the unexpected counter-question. Aracilla calmly continued.
"And just a moment ago, you were boasting about him being the Commander and a Sword Master, but now you're calling him a mere knight. A mere knight doesn't need this much bridal gift, does he?"
Aracilla shrugged, shaking the documents. The Duchess let out a hollow, exasperated laugh.
If this was the reply she received after offering "benevolent" advice, there was no need to hear more to reach a conclusion.
"...Lady Hugo, I've felt this before, but you're quite difficult to reason with."
"I'm also confused about which tune I should dance to. Is he a proud son, or merely a knight?"
Aracilla wrinkled her nose and smiled slyly. It was needless to say how infuriating her expression was.
The Duchess, glaring at Aracilla with chilly eyes, rose abruptly from her seat without a word.
"Travel safely, Duchess."
To the back of the Duchess's head, as she coldly walked away, Aracilla didn't forget to offer a respectful farewell to an elder.
Naturally, there was no reply, but she didn't mind and carefully gathered the documents.
She couldn't keep something like this to herself. She had to go show her future husband immediately.
* * *
With the Commander's marriage officially confirmed, the Red Hawk Knights were in a state of unrest these days.
A knight marrying the Magic Tower's representative Mage?
Furthermore, as it was a love match, public interest was fervent. Everyone seemed to hope for a special romance, but within the Knights, it was different.
"Commander, please reconsider your marriage."
"Considering the Ritterson incident, Commander, you must be careful!"
"How do you know she isn't a woman with dark intentions, like that witch?!"
Dark-faced knights followed Demian around, clamoring loudly.
What was this "Ritterson incident" they spoke of?
It referred to the case where Jonathan Ritterson, once a celebrated Sword Master and Commander of the Imperial Knights, was murdered after marrying a Mage.
A rare murder case that played a significant role in the poor relations between Mages and Knights in the Cetron Empire.
His wife, Lexy Ritterson, confessed after her arrest that she had intentionally approached and married him.
'If Jonathan Ritterson had been left alone, an era where foolish knights with nothing but strength would have dominated. I merely prevented such a misfortune from occurring.'
Her motive for the crime had enraged every knight in the Empire. A Mage, seeking to curb the growing power of knights, had killed the greatest knight of their time.
Thanks to this, within the knightly order, there was still widespread animosity towards Mages, especially female Mages.
"Commander, please, don't marry a Mage!"
"Silence. Don't question my decision."
Demian, tired of being hounded by his subordinates, frowned deeply and spoke.
But his fervent admirers persistently followed him.
"Don't they say she's called a strange woman even within the Magic Tower? If that witch were to harm the Commander..."
"Am I, perhaps, that witch?"
A clear voice suddenly interjected. The knights turned around and screamed in surprise.
This was because Aracilla stood there, her curling hair draped over her face like curtains over a window, her eyes wide and white.
"Aargh!"
"G-ghost?!"
Some of the knights, their hearts pounding, even collapsed as their legs gave out.
Demian looked back and forth between his subordinates and Aracilla, who stood there like a ghost, an incredulous expression on his face.
"What are you doing, Lady? Are you mimicking a ghost?"
"Yes, since they were treating me like a witch, I decided to play along a bit."
Aracilla swept her hair back and gave a cool smile. Audrey, who had been standing behind her, quickly tidied her own hair.
"Everyone has so much to say about someone who will soon be their superior's wife. Is gossiping about a woman part of a knight's chivalry?"
The knights flinched and avoided her gaze. Just moments before, they had freely called Aracilla a witch, but now that she was right in front of them, they couldn't even look her in the face.
Aracilla clicked her tongue at their pathetic behavior, her gaze falling on Demian.
"Or perhaps, the superior isn't keeping discipline properly? What do you think, Sir Vandermir?"
She was pointing out that Demian had quietly listened to his subordinates' words.
"I apologize, Lady. It was my mistake."
Demian, having politely apologized, commanded his subordinates with a fearsome expression.
"All of you, apologize to Lady Hugo, then run 30 laps around the training ground."
"No, make it 100 laps each."
"Yes, Commander! We apologize!"
Having committed a wrong, the knights could not object and, after bowing in apology, ran to the training ground.
Once they were gone, Demian turned and said.
"We should first..."
"Aren't you going, Sir?"
Aracilla, cutting Demian off abruptly, smiled sweetly. Demian hesitated, observing her expression.
"...Am I going too?"
"Well, aren't you?"
Listening without stopping them was also complicity. Aracilla, still smiling, raised a hand and pointed towards the training ground.
Receiving punishment by running laps around the training ground was a first in Demian's life. However, he too had committed a wrong, so he couldn't object.
"I will go."
"Alright, we have something to talk about, so you, Sir, can run just 10 laps as a special favor. Aren't you grateful?"
Aracilla extended special leniency. 'What am I going to do, being this kind?'
"...Am I supposed to be grateful?"
"Would you prefer 100 laps?"
Demian bowed his head and, without a word, turned and went to the training ground.
* * *
Aracilla, sitting leisurely in the office and eating dessert, narrowed her eyes when she saw Demian return after running 10 laps.
"Are you sure you ran? How are you not even a drop of sweat?"
"That much doesn't make me sweat. I have a regular training regimen."
"You should have said so earlier. Then I would have just told you to run 100 laps."
Demian sat in the opposite chair, a slightly incredulous look on his face. He ran a hand over his face and let out a low sigh, then asked.
"So, why did you come without contacting me?"
"I just met with the Duchess today. She gave this to me, Sir; you should take a look."
Aracilla handed the Duchess's documents to Demian. As he read the contents, Demian's expression grew increasingly distorted.
"This is outrageous."
"Right? How do you think I felt receiving that out of the blue? She told me to prepare it within two weeks."
Demian's hand tightened around the paper. It was a bridal gift of a scale that even a prestigious family couldn't help but feel burdened by.
It was clear that the Ducal Family had intentionally made excessive demands to disrupt the marriage, but the problem was that Aracilla might genuinely want to call off the wedding.
After all, the starting point of conflict in all marriages was often the bridal gift and dowry.
'If this marriage falls through, I'm the one who stands to lose more.'
For Demian, the ducal title was at stake in this marriage. On the other hand, Aracilla's gains from the marriage were unclear.
The reason she gave, that it was to prevent her sister's marriage to Oscar, didn't feel particularly urgent from Demian's perspective.
That's why he felt uneasy, as if she could change her mind at any moment.
"If, perhaps, you wish to cancel the marriage because of the bridal gift..."
