Chapter 31
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The master of Woodpecker had lost his mind.
No such gossip circulated, however. It was an impossibility. Every witness to the event served the Duke, ensuring total silence.
Adi remained equally tight-lipped. Her lack of social circles made spreading rumors difficult anyway, though she secretly wished the world would recognize the King’s insanity. And yet…
“Do you recall the Lintu girl?”
“Lintu…”
“The one infatuated with the Duke. Word is she had a total meltdown after seeing his transformed self. She’s completely smitten now.”
She had played at being friendly before as well. In Adi’s view, that interest had likely been rooted in his rank rather than his face.
“Her guards were constantly fishing for ways to arrange a chance encounter.”
“You’re on speaking terms with her detail?”
“We serve in the same Knights Order.”
“That’s news to me.”
“I figured it would be.”
“Belonging to the same unit doesn’t make everyone friends.”
“…That’s a rule that only applies to you.”
Adi wondered if that was a jab. Though he hadn’t used a single slur, it certainly didn’t sound like a compliment.
“Is something the matter? You look like a ghost.”
“I’ve always been this pale.”
Sunlight was a rarity in Grimaldi. While the southern reaches of Dalcatir boasted the sprawling plains of the Oak Forest, the north and east were a jagged mess of peaks and woods, broken only by the central valley and the western coastline.
“I’m mentioning it because you look even more bloodless than usual.”
Roy found it bizarre that a northerner could remain so porcelain-skinned without a hint of a tan. He assumed she had endured a difficult life. Observing her now, she seemed fragile—actually, he’d noticed it before, but her extreme lack of color gave her a remarkably feminine air. She lacked the typical pungent, musky odor that followed men around.
In truth, Roy hadn’t planned on critiquing Adi’s looks. Appearance meant little to the 3rd Knights Order; to them, she was just the rabid dog of Pallesa. They usually just steered clear of her, ignored her presence, or looked for a scrap.
“…Tell me.”
Adi spoke up. Roy leaned in, curious about what she was thinking.
“Would you say I’m pretty?”
“Have you finally lost your damn mind?”
It was the only honest reaction he could manage.
“…”
The words had escaped his lips before he could filter them. Noticing her sudden somber mood, Roy tried a gentler approach.
“Is being called pretty something you actually want?”
“No.”
“I thought not.”
The term ‘pretty’ was something she clearly detested. She might have accepted ‘dependable’ or ‘striking’ instead. Roy felt a chill. Rubbing his neck to settle his nerves, he asked what prompted the question. Adi paused before answering.
“What’s your take on the Duke?”
“I don’t have much to go on myself.”
Julius Caspras Woodpecker was twenty-six years old.
His domain stretched from the southern Oak Forest across the entire region; many viewed it as its own sovereign principality.
The territory was anchored by Efeshe, the ducal seat and most prominent city, followed by notable hubs like Ilot, Ruzgoz, and Gilieri. It even included Grail, a sovereign city-state bound by treaties to nine different nations. Under the boy king’s rule, the land was a bastion of prestige and immense wealth.
“I’ll be learning more about him soon enough.”
The Duke commanded legions numbering in the tens of thousands per city. His most legendary unit was his personal guard, the ’Night Watchmen.’ They earned the title by patrolling the deep woods after dark. As Woodpecker’s most formidable military force, they were rumored to take orders from no one but the Duke himself.
Joining those elite ranks was Roy’s ultimate ambition.
“Why the questions? Are you interested in him too?”
Roy’s inquiry went unanswered. Adi started to speak but caught herself. A figure was approaching from the far end of the corridor. While foot traffic was common in these halls, this man’s rank demanded respect. Adi and Roy snapped to attention, holding their positions until the man drew near, then offered a formal salute as he passed.
“Sir Roy Gallardo. Sir Adrian Grimaldi.”
Kenneth Marks acknowledged them.
“You two seem to be getting along.”
His voice was a flat, rhythmic drone—the signature accent of Pallesa. In both Pallesa and Ionad, the local speech lacked any melodic inflection. Because the nobility considered it a mark of high breeding, the style had become a widespread affectation among the upper class.
“Adrian.”
Marks.
“Yes, Sir.”
The name wasn’t an ancient one; it had been granted to him. He had clearly earned his status through his service as a knight.
“You’ve neglected your correspondence for several days. Go to the front office and collect your mail.”
“…As you wish.”
Marks gave them a brief, calculating look before moving on. Adi watched his retreating figure with confusion. She hadn’t expected the Commander to care about something as trivial as letters.
“Does the Commander usually track people’s mail?”
“Search me. I never get any.”
“Not a single letter?”
“Nope. My whole family is in the ground.”
Everyone carried their own burdens, but the bluntness of his admission caught her off guard. Roy gave the flustered Adi a small smirk. “Any guesses on who killed them?”
“I couldn’t say for sure, but whoever it was clearly doesn’t like the Duke. Not if you’ve chosen to side with him.”
He was sharper than Adi had given him credit for. However, his gaps in knowledge suggested he lacked a proper network of spies. Then again, what information could he possibly gather in his position?
“Spot on. They’re rivals. The Knight Commander is part of that circle, too. Which means you might end up being my enemy eventually. Me, the Duke, and Bert—all of us against you.”
If Adi had any designs on the Woodpecker family, it was likely a lost cause. Grimaldi was firmly in the Royalist camp. It wasn’t just a matter of loyalty to the crown; the Count and his allies were the ones who had put the current prince on the throne in the first place.
“Tell me, does the Duke…”
In truth, having a cunning fox like Grimaldi on their side wouldn’t be the worst thing, but the Count wasn’t the type to change his mind. Roy and Adi could never truly be companions—.
“Prefer the company of men?”
Never—.
Roy’s brain short-circuited. He stood frozen, unable to process the words. The question echoed through his mind over and over.
Prefer men?
A taste for men…
Men…
There was only one logical reason to ask such a thing. Roy jumped to a conclusion instantly.
“Don’t tell me you’re into men?”
Adi remained silent. Look, liking men was one thing—to each their own. But the Duke had looked like a twelve-year-old child until just recently. Even if he had aged up now, his face was still—!
“You aren’t some kind of predator, are you? If you’re a pedophile, I’ll end you right here.”
“Shut up with that disgusting talk. You’re being ridiculous.”
Adi’s expression was dead serious. Roy felt a wave of relief. As long as she wasn’t some kind of monster, he could deal with it.
“There aren’t any rumors about the Duke having those tendencies. Besides… he was a literal child until a moment ago. Please tell me your type isn’t ‘boys who hit a sudden growth spurt.’ I mean, I’m not judging, but…”
In the male-dominated world of the Knights Order and the front lines, homosexuality was a constant reality. Roy remembered his own time as a young page, constantly dodging unwanted advances. Every man in the 2nd Knights Order had likely faced the same.
To survive with his dignity intact, he had pushed himself harder than everyone else, training long into the night and remaining alert even while sleeping. He could sense a presence the moment someone got close. It was a survival instinct honed since childhood. Thanks to that vigilance, Roy had protected himself. In this world, it was all about who had the most terrifying momentum.
“If anyone tries to touch me, I’m breaking their jaw…”
“I have zero interest in your backside.”
Adi shut him down with a hollow stare. Roy felt relieved, yet a small, contradictory part of him was insulted that she wasn’t attracted to a man as good-looking as he was.
While Roy went to the training grounds, Adi made her way to the administrative wing. She was curious about how many letters had piled up to warrant a personal reminder from Kenneth Marks.
In reality, while there were more letters than the Count’s family usually sent, the volume was hardly significant enough for a Commander to notice. There were only five. Two were from her mother; the other three were from her father.
Adi took the mail back to her room. Bert was absent, likely attending to the Duke for the duration of the day.
Once inside, she began reading. Her mother’s letters were always the same. They were soaked in a desperate longing for Adrian. She asked how he was faring and reminded him to bundle up against the cold.
The world was turning toward summer, but her mother remained frozen in a permanent winter. It seemed she truly couldn’t remember which of her children had actually passed away.
Adi moved those aside and turned to the Count’s correspondence. She opened the most recent one first and let out a dry laugh at the solitary sentence written inside.
[The news reached me. A job well done.]
He was referring to her protecting the Duke.
But who had told him? The Duke’s inner circle had kept the matter quiet. Had he deduced it because his hired killers never came home?
She saw no point in mentioning the poisoning. If she did, he would only tell her she was weak and useless.
Adi set that note down and reached for the final letter.
Technically, this wasn’t from the Count himself, but from the estate’s head steward.
[His Excellency intends to visit Pallesa for the upcoming festivities. I will send word once his lodgings are secured.]
“The festival.”
Of course. The May Festival was an annual tradition in Pallesa, a city that still clung to the old ways. It was an event that drew everyone back—even the King. And now, the Count.
“He’s coming here.”
