Ch#132
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Ultimately, the travel party to Grimaldi expanded to include Ivan, Joel, and Dimitri. Choosing between Gavin and Dimitri had sparked a long-running debate, with the decision only swaying toward Dimitri at the very last moment. Even as they prepared to set off, he seemed struck by a sense of disbelief. This journey meant that he, alongside Adrina, was returning to his place of birth. Though neither had actively sought this homecoming, the turn of events wasn’t entirely unwelcome.
Billy remained behind on this occasion. His responsibilities regarding the Duke’s wardrobe were handed over to Joel. The head chamberlain showed no signs of resentment about being excluded; the heavy, practical fashions of the North simply didn’t appeal to his aesthetic sensibilities. While frontier zones usually benefited from a vibrant cultural melting pot, the current state of cold war between the regions had stifled any such exchange.
Joel and Ivan, meanwhile, maintained their constant presence at the Duke’s side. Their backgrounds—one a master of restorative arts and the other a former professional killer—provided a versatile shield for their master. Their unique skill sets made them the ideal attendants to have within arm’s reach during a potentially dangerous trek.
The logistics of the route had been another point of contention. While a few voices suggested the efficiency of the sea, the final verdict was that unpredictable maritime flows would only cause setbacks. Furthermore, the group agreed that a gradual overland approach was preferable to the sudden, grueling ascent into the Grimaldi highlands that a coastal landing would require. After days of strategic planning, the land path was confirmed. To ensure they reached their destination before the autumn faded, a grueling pace was mandatory.
They opted for a minimalist setup consisting of a single carriage. The attendants traveled on horseback, while their limited supplies were secured to the roof of the vehicle. A single item of high importance was kept separated from the rest, tucked safely inside the cabin with Yuls.
The group pushed their limits, riding from dawn until dusk. Lunch was a hurried affair of light rations, while dinner was reserved for whatever lodgings they reached at night. On several occasions, they were forced to stay at modest hostels lacking even basic stables, but the discomfort went unmentioned. Yuls proved surprisingly resilient, showing no irritation at these meager conditions.
It was only after they had traversed the Southern and Central territories and felt the air of the North that their speed finally began to taper off. In the wilderness, they cooked for themselves; whenever they encountered civilization, they sought out local taverns.
Evening was falling by the time they reached the city housing the Grimaldi seat. As the landscape shifted into something recognizable, Adi felt a wave of familiarity. The end of their journey was finally within sight.
The attendants organized a meal in an open field. Because they had been able to purchase fresh food in recent towns, they were spared the need to hunt or forage for their dinner.
“It appears Sir Bert Dean has immense confidence in your abilities,” Dimitri remarked. Adi looked up from the mushrooms she was cleaning. Nearby, Roy was focused entirely on chopping onions.
“Sir Bert was our constant companion whenever we left the estate,” she replied. He hadn’t been part of the contingent sent to Pallesa Palace. While Dimitri was in the dark regarding the specific details of that mission, he could see that the experience had forged an unbreakable connection between those who went.
“Finding people of like mind in the wider world is a rare gift,” Dimitri said, standing up. “It’s a relief that your time at the palace resulted in such bonds.”
As he turned to walk away, Adi stopped him. “Dimitri.”
He paused, looking back.
“You haven’t been here in a very long time,” she said softly. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m fine,” he answered. “Twenty years have passed, yet the horizon looks exactly as I remember it.”
He scanned the surroundings with an unreadable expression. It was impossible to tell if he felt a nostalgic ache for his homeland or if he was simply cataloging old memories. At the very least, he didn’t seem miserable.
“I can’t predict how I’ll feel once we actually cross the threshold of the estate, but I’m not losing sleep over it. The Count didn’t even recognize my face when we crossed paths in Ionad.”
“…That sounds like him,” Adi murmured.
“I don’t take it personally. The Count treats everyone with the same level of detachment.”
Dimitri hadn’t harbored grand expectations that his cousin would remember a relative who vanished two decades ago. Still, the total lack of recognition was jarring.
“The only person he ever truly noticed back then was…”
Dimitri’s voice trailed off. His gaze settled on Adrina. He saw her golden hair catching the breeze and her steady brown eyes. Suddenly, a memory of a woman in a restrictive blue dress and a bone-tight corset flickered in his mind.
In those days, he had perceived her as a symbol of liberty.
“Yvette Malvina.”
Now, Adi stood before him in the functional uniform of a Woodpecker Knight. To Dimitri, this version of her looked infinitely more free.
*
A parched breeze swept through the area, a phenomenon that seemed to captivate Roy. He and the others from the South were fascinated by the Northern summer, which felt entirely foreign. The nights were perfect for rest, and the shade offered immediate relief from the sun. However, as they entered the bustling city, the concentrated warmth of the crowds made the air feel far heavier than it had in the open country.
Ivan had ridden ahead to secure lodging and was waiting for them when they arrived. As the carriage pulled up, his expression was a strange mix of confusion and wariness while he showed them to their quarters. The reason for his bewilderment became clear only when the group gathered in the hotel restaurant for dinner.
“You certainly didn’t waste any time getting here,” a voice called out.
Claude was already seated at a table.
He had traveled from Ionad. Having received his correspondence around the same time as Yuls, he must have departed the capital at the same moment the Duke left the South. For Yuls to have arrived simultaneously—despite traveling twice the distance—proved just how relentlessly the Woodpecker party had pushed their horses.
It was the necessary price for a return trip before the season turned.
“I see you’ve made it,” Yuls noted.
“I took a much more leisurely pace than you,” Claude admitted with a shrug. He clearly expected them to join him. From his central seat, he signaled toward the empty chairs surrounding him. In a room filled with patrons, these specific seats had been kept vacant for the Duke’s knights and staff.
Yuls sat beside the Prince. It appeared Claude had pre-ordered the meal, as the waitstaff began serving them immediately.
“The North is quite refreshing, wouldn’t you say? It’s a pleasant change for a summer getaway. Ionad always feels like the air is too thick to breathe. Here, everything feels… crisp.”
“What kind of people are you spending time with that your descriptions have become so clumsy?” Yuls asked.
“What’s wrong with ‘crisp’?” Claude countered. Yuls simply let the matter drop.
The meal was surprisingly high in quality. While the North was somewhat secluded, it wasn’t any more isolated than the Western reaches. Despite the lack of flat plains and the biting cold, the region clearly possessed enough fertile soil to sustain itself. The city hummed with a quiet energy that contradicted any idea of a failing province.
Yuls wondered why he had ever imagined this place as a wasteland. It was likely just a deep-seated bias. Dimitri had been right; the Grimaldi line was far from struggling. Then again, a provincial ruler was rarely wanting for resources.
“You’re making your entrance tomorrow?” Claude inquired.
Shifting his focus back to the conversation, Yuls nodded. “That’s the plan.”
“We should dispatch an attendant tonight to announce us. Do you want to send one of yours, or should I handle it?”
“I have no preference.”
“I’ll take care of it then,” Claude said lightly. “Your men are actually loyal to you. You should keep them close.”
“That implies yours aren’t,” Yuls observed.
“Do you really think a man in my position is surrounded by genuine loyalty?” Claude asked, his tone dripping with skepticism. While the public might view the Crown Prince’s inner circle as devoted, Claude knew that true allegiance wasn’t a commodity that could be bought with a title. It required a foundation of mutual belief.
The people currently swarming around him were there for one reason only: self-interest.
“They’re just hovering nearby so they can grab the biggest slice of the pie once the crown is on my head.”
“If you had handled your affairs differently, you might have found real friends,” Yuls remarked.
“Allies aren’t that easy to come by, Yuls. You’ve just been incredibly lucky.”
Adi glanced toward the nearby tables. Claude’s security detail was entirely new. Even his primary attendant was a face she didn’t recognize. While she didn’t know every servant in the capital, it was obvious that Claude cycled through his staff with suspicious frequency.
There was clearly a strategy behind this lack of permanence. Perhaps he couldn’t bring himself to trust anyone, or perhaps he couldn’t risk showing a preference that others could exploit.
The aristocratic families backing him would perpetually provide him with ‘chamberlains.’ Though they held the titles of servants, most were high-born sons of noble houses. They played at being devoted to Claude, but their true mission was to anchor their families to the future King’s throne.
“Did you know I used to be envious of you?” Claude asked. “Bitterly so,” he added for emphasis. “It’s because of that envy that I understand why you have no desire for my chair.”
Claude reached for his drink. He had been forced into sobriety in Ionad due to local laws, but he enjoyed a drink when traveling. He wasn’t a heavy drinker by any means.
“If our roles were swapped, I would have chosen your life in a heartbeat.”
The nobles who swore fealty to Claude while providing his staff were likely the same ones reporting to the current King. In such a world, no secret was safe. Claude probably didn’t even fully trust Yuls.
“When you finally take the throne, I will be at your back,” Yuls said.
“There really is no one quite like my dear brother,” Claude joked.
“Cousin,” Yuls corrected.
“Close enough.”
Claude was in high spirits and didn’t care for semantics. He started to lift his glass but stopped, gesturing to a nearby table instead.
An attendant who had just finished eating hurried over and bowed low. “Your Highness?”
“Ride to the Grimaldi manor. Inform them that the Duke and I will be arriving tomorrow afternoon.”
“At once, Your Highness.”
As the man departed, Claude’s hand drifted toward his mouth, his thumb hovering near his teeth as if to bite a nail. “Claude,” Yuls interrupted. When the Prince looked over, Yuls raised his glass in a silent prompt. Claude followed suit, tapping his glass against Yuls’s before taking a sip.
“Mmm.”
He set the drink down with a satisfied grin.
“They told me the spirits in the North were superior. They weren’t lying; this is excellent.”
The liquor was potent, far stronger than what Yuls typically preferred.