Ch#151
Adi closed the distance between them, tilting her head back to meet Yuls’s gaze. The rigid set of his features sent a ripple of apprehension through her. As she studied him, she found herself replaying the Witch’s cryptic prophecy—the promise of a forest revived. She was on the verge of sharing those words when Yuls broke the silence with a question.
“May I ask you something?”
Adi gave a small nod.
“If I were to bring about your father’s ruin.”
Yuls reached out, his fingers brushing against Adi’s cheek.
“Would you despise me for it?”
“What is your ultimate goal, Your Excellency?”
Yuls hesitated. “What outcome do you desire for Count Grimaldi?”
He had likely expected a simple confirmation or denial, but her reply was far more decisive.
“Should you require a witness to testify, I will take the stand,” she stated firmly. “And if your aim is to dismantle Grimaldi entirely, I will be the one at the head of the charge.”
She knew what he wanted.
“Therefore, Your Excellency.”
“It shall be as you say.”
In the hierarchy of her loyalties, Woodpecker came first. Grimaldi and Macauliffe had struck at the duchy, and for that, they had to be crushed so thoroughly that any hope of recovery was extinguished.
“I intend to pull Grimaldi down from his position.”
Yuls spoke with a cold resolve that ignored the potential for collateral damage or personal suffering.
“And I am hardly alone in that ambition.”
A dry laugh escaped him, though there was no humor in it. Had their fates not been so tightly woven, perhaps Grimaldi would never have become his enemy.
“It appears the Count has cultivated more animosity than I realized.”
In the game of noble rivalries, friction was common and rarely fatal. The Count had always managed to hold his own against his peers. The true peril lay in the fact that the crown now wanted him gone. The King had already turned his back on the man, and Claude was poised to strike. Yuls intended to move in tandem with them, seizing the moment to fulfill his own hidden agendas while making a public wreck of Grimaldi and Macauliffe.
“But are you truly at peace with this?” Yuls pressed, his eyes searching hers. “Does this sit well with you?”
He knew better than anyone what she had suffered under that roof; from his perspective, the fall of Grimaldi was a matter of justice. Yet he needed to know if Adi shared that hunger for retribution.
“Are you prepared to see Grimaldi torn apart?”
“Yes,” Adi replied without a flicker of doubt. “I am perfectly fine with it. I would never harbor resentment toward Your Excellency for such a thing.”
Her composure was so absolute that Yuls wondered if his concern had been misplaced.
“Even if my life had taken a different path—even if I were exiled from the Kingdom of Dalkatir forever—hearing of Grimaldi’s destruction would have brought me joy.”
She might not have celebrated openly, but a profound weight would have lifted from her soul. She would have spent the rest of her days content to let the memory of that place rot.
“Proceed however you wish.”
Yuls narrowed his eyes, remembering the tears he had seen her shed. If she were truly indifferent, those emotions wouldn’t have surfaced.
“I suspect you haven’t fully reconciled with your own feelings,” he noted.
Still, the wheels were in motion. Yuls had to exploit the current political climate, even if it meant using her as a pawn.
“So.”
He would move forward, even if it cost him her affection later. He felt a sting of self-loathing for trying to clear his conscience beforehand, simply because the thought of her hating him was unbearable.
“I was sincere when I promised to grant you a wish.”
Guilt was a persistent ache in his chest.
“The nature of the request doesn’t matter.”
He was certain she was hurting beneath that mask of stoicism; she was simply too practiced at hiding it.
“Invoke it whenever you have need.”
It was a peace offering born of remorse.
“……”
Adi’s lips parted in surprise. For what purpose? She stared at him, bewildered by the implication. Did he honestly think she would use her one favor to plead for Grimaldi’s life?
That promise had been a safety net for a time when she was a fugitive seeking a way out of the Kingdom of Dalkatir. That need had vanished. She was no longer a wanderer; she had found a home here. Perhaps, if she were ever cast out again, she might call in the debt. But never for the sake of Grimaldi.
The Witch watched Yuls’s progression with a smug air of vindication. “You see? My word is law.”
She gave a dismissive shrug. “They call it a Flowering method, though I had my doubts about its efficacy myself.”
Having fulfilled her end of the bargain, she announced her departure. She demanded her payment and a guard to see her safely to the Northern Continent, mentioning an intended detour through Grimaldi to pillage their wild berry patches.
With every dose of toxin Yuls ingested, his strength seemed to expand. The Witch had treated it like a grand experiment, escalating the potency of the poisons. According to reports, the concoctions were foul-tasting and increasingly difficult to stomach. Eventually, it became so grueling that he began spiking his own wine during dinner just to get it over with.
Through trial and error, they learned his body ignored mineral or animal-based toxins; only pure botanical poisons triggered the change. This left Joel in the unexpected position of a master toxicologist, constantly brewing lethal drinks. He justified it by claiming that a healer’s education was naturally heavy on the study of poisons.
“What is the significance of ‘flowering’?” Adi inquired one afternoon.
“Flowering?”
“The term the Witch used before she left. The Flowering method.”
“A way to make something bloom, right?” Roy chimed in with a grin. “Does that make His Excellency a blossom?”
The surrounding knights winced and instinctively stepped away from Roy. Adi, however, remained where she was, nodding thoughtfully. “He does have the grace of a flower.”
Roy blinked, wondering if his joke had landed poorly. The Duke was undeniably striking, but Roy hadn’t expected Adi to take the metaphor so literally. He sighed, realizing the two of them were uniquely suited for one another, and shuffled back toward the group of knights who were avoiding him. They were preparing for the journey back to the primary estate.
A fresh carriage stood ready, and their party had grown by one. The Cook was joining them. His family lived nearby, and they were busy packing their lives to follow him eventually. Since time was short, his kin had gathered to bid him a temporary farewell.
Yuls entered his carriage, followed by the household staff in theirs. Roy took up the rear of the line, while Adi positioned herself in the gap between the two vehicles.
“Is the way clear?” Bert called out.
He rode past the carriages to take the lead. At his signal, the lead driver snapped the reins, and the journey home began.
The trip took less than two days. After a night spent at a roadside inn, they pushed through the following day, reaching the gates of the Woodpecker estate just as the sun began to dip below the horizon.
A welcoming committee had already gathered. As the Duke’s carriage rolled to a stop, the rest of the procession halted in perfect synchronization. Adi slid from her saddle and pulled open the carriage door for Yuls.
As he stepped onto the gravel, every head bowed in respect. Dimitri moved forward to greet him while the other servants climbed down from their transport.
“Welcome home, Your Excellency.”
“It is good to be back.”
“The reports reached me,” Dimitri said softly. “I am relieved to see you returned in good health.”
Yuls offered a thin smile. He knew the chamberlain wasn’t just talking about a safe journey; he was referring to the restoration of Yuls’s physical state. Dimitri was well aware of the dangerous path his master had taken to achieve it.
“Where is Lev?”
“He is waiting as instructed.”
“Take me to him.”
The massive doors of the estate swung open as Yuls approached. He walked with a brisk, purposeful stride, followed by his inner circle. Adi and Roy brought up the rear.
Yuls moved through the house with an eerie certainty, navigating the labyrinthine halls as if he were being pulled by an invisible string. Even though he hadn’t resided there long, he felt he knew the building well—yet the passage they entered was entirely unfamiliar to him.
The corridor ended abruptly at a massive portrait of a woman with vibrant red hair.
Bert reached out and slid the painting aside. It moved with silent precision on hidden tracks, revealing a door. Beyond the threshold lay nothing but an oppressive, ink-black void.
Joel took the lead, conjuring a glowing azure orb in his palm to light the way. As Adi moved to follow him into the dark, Yuls’s voice stopped her.
“Adrina.”
She paused.
“It would be better if you remained here.”
Adi felt a familiar prickle of frustration. It was that recurring wall—the moments where she was suddenly an outsider, excluded from the secrets of the inner sanctum.
“I understand,” she replied, her voice neutral.
Yuls lingered for a second, watching her expression, before he disappeared down the stairs. Dimitri and Ivan followed close behind. Bert stopped at the threshold, looking back at Adi and Roy.
“Roy, you stay with her.”
“Yes, sir.”
They stood in silence, listening to the muffled rhythm of boots descending into the earth. Joel’s light had long since vanished. The basement was clearly far deeper than a standard cellar. Adi wondered if it was a hidden tunnel like the one they had used to reach Claude.
Or perhaps it was a dungeon designed for those who were never meant to see the sun again.