Chapter 5
As Adi posed the question, the attendant felt a sense of déjà vu. During his three-year tenure at Pallesa Palace, he had navigated this exact scenario three times prior, each with a different guardian. He couldn’t help but wonder how this fourth candidate would handle the reality of the position.
“To begin, I must outline the specific behaviors that are strictly forbidden in the presence of the Duke.”
His previous charges had all reacted with visible revulsion, vowing never to accept a post involving Duke Woodpecker again. Their disgust wasn’t mere posturing; the Duke’s visits were genuinely dreaded. Consequently, the responsibility of guarding him was typically forced upon the greenest recruits of the 2nd Knights Order. While the man known as the “dog of Pallesa” was hardly a novice, this environment was entirely new to him.
The servant cleared his throat, preparing the list.
“His Grace cannot tolerate anyone standing directly in his path. He has zero patience for lack of punctuality, talking back, or requiring a command to be repeated. Most importantly, you must never, under any circumstances, fix your gaze directly upon his face. It is viewed as a grave insult.”
The initial rules seemed standard enough, but the list quickly became an exhaustive marathon. It covered everything from dietary restrictions during active duty and scents to avoid, to rigorous hygiene standards and conduct regarding women. It even dictated how a knight should navigate political friction with other members of the nobility or the royal house.
Adi’s features soured more with every added restriction. Still, the servant pressed on, noting that at least this knight wasn’t currently hurling insults or spitting in his direction. “Furthermore,” he added.
“Should you find yourself in a confrontation with a fellow knight, defeat is not an option.”
“……”
“You are expected to prevail by any means necessary—even if you have to resort to the savagery of a beast. The Duke finds losing intolerable.”
Adi silently doubted the Duke would actually appreciate someone rolling in the dirt like a common stray. Regardless, winning was the one area where she felt absolute certainty in her abilities. The attendant seemed to share that confidence.
“Given the fearsome reputation of Sir Adrian Grimaldi, I presume that particular requirement won’t be an issue?”
The servant glanced at the knight’s frame, which seemed almost too lithe to support such a violent and notorious history. Yet, there was a certain firmness to his build that suggested dense muscle hidden beneath his clothes. Deciding that a bulky physique wouldn’t match that face anyway, the servant prepared one final warning. “One more thing to keep in mind—”
By now, Adi’s patience had evaporated.
“What exactly makes this man so incredibly difficult?”
“I have only scratched the surface of the basics,” the servant replied. “Powerful nobles often possess an intense level of self-regulation; perhaps that is the secret to their status. You will see for yourself soon enough.”
This comment brought Adi’s father to mind. Count Grimaldi was a man defined by rigid self-discipline. She had assumed it was a personal quirk, but perhaps it was a universal trait among the elite. Personally, Adi craved a life of freedom, even if her current circumstances were defined by deception and restraint.
“It sounds like a miserable existence,” she remarked.
“It is an honor to serve him,” the servant countered with a smile. “He is, after all, the Duke.”
The man then launched into a long-winded tribute to his master’s greatness. Adi found the sentiment impossible to grasp. Zoning out, she turned her attention to the window. The sound of distant laughter drifted from the grounds. Duke Woodpecker wasn’t the only guest at Pallesa Palace; the King’s personal guards were currently idling away the hours in the inner gardens. She found their lifestyle equally baffling.
The clock struck midnight, its chimes echoing through the room. The servant rose, mentioning the need for an early start to prepare the carriage for the Duke’s arrival. The day’s briefing was over.
“I shall see you in the morning, Sir.”
“Rest well,” Adi replied.
She watched him depart. The servant walked toward his quarters with a light step, satisfied that he had provided ample warning. He was so preoccupied with his success that he completely forgot to mention the single most vital detail.
The oversight became apparent the following morning. As Adi stood ready to welcome the Duke—who had traveled via the Warp Gate and arrived in the servant’s carriage—she found it impossible to maintain a neutral mask.
Standing before her was a strikingly beautiful youth with hair the color of a guttering flame.
Julius Caspras, Duke Woodpecker, was twenty-six years old.
Adrian Grimaldi was twenty-five.
Adi found herself looking down at the Duke. She was tall for a woman, but for a man, she was merely average; by comparison, Duke Woodpecker was exceptionally small and possessed a delicate grace. She realized then that standing next to him would be the perfect cover—no one would ever suspect she was a woman in his shadow.
“Your stare is remarkably bold.”
The Duke’s voice snapped her back to reality. The servant turned a ghostly shade of white. He had forgotten the cardinal rule: never show shock at the Duke’s appearance, and never look down on him.
For the Duke suffered from a specific affliction.
“……My greetings to you, Your Grace,” Adi managed.
The curse of Duke Woodpecker was simple: his body had ceased to age.
*
Adi sat with her skepticism. Could a curse truly manifest in such a physical way?
She was no stranger to the concept of hexes. Rumors regarding the Grimaldi line were constant, fueled by the superstition that twins were a harbinger of dark magic. Whether a curse actually gripped her family was a mystery; they might simply be victims of a terrifying reputation. Some whispered that the real Adrian Grimaldi had been claimed by such a fate, though he had been sickly since birth.
‘So, the stories are true,’ she realized.
It was her first time witnessing the tangible effects of a supernatural burden. Generally, Adi didn’t concern herself with the plight of others. Survival took up far too much of her mental energy to leave room for empathy. While she had heard the various legends of the Kingdom of Dalkatir, she had never bothered to learn the specifics of who was cursed or why. She had dismissed the talk she heard on the road to Pallesa Palace as mere gossip, much like the tall tales surrounding her own name. But Julius Woodpecker was living proof.
Men from the south were typically shorter than northerners, but the Duke was of northern stock. It wasn’t just his height, either. His flawless skin, slender fingers, and lack of any masculine facial hair were undeniable signs of a frozen childhood.
She wondered what the Grimaldi curse was supposed to be in comparison.
“Careful. Looking at him like that is a good way to lose your head.”
The voice came from a man riding alongside her. Adi shifted her gaze from the carriage bearing the Pallesa Palace insignia to the veteran knight on the horse next to her.
He had introduced himself as Bert. With his silvering hair and the dignified lines on his face, he appeared to be in his mid-fifties. It was clear he had been by the Duke’s side since the beginning.
“Looking at what?”
“The evidence of the curse.”
“Ah. Lord Yuls.”
“It took hold when he was thirteen,” Bert explained. “The work of a witch.”
“I thought the witches of Dalkatir were extinct,” Adi challenged.
Bert offered her a knowing look. Within the borders of Dalkatir, that was a fact. The Grimaldi family had been thorough in their purge, which was exactly why people believed the dying witches had hexed the bloodline.
“It’s a legacy that follows the blood,” Bert said.
Adi knew that was a fabrication. Even with her limited interest in lore, she knew the Woodpecker affliction wasn’t a hereditary trait.
“He was actually quite a tall boy at thirteen,” Bert continued with a nostalgic chuckle. “The previous Duke was a large man, so we all expected Lord Yuls to follow suit.”
Adi gave a noncommittal shrug. Childhood height was never a guarantee of adult stature. She herself had been small until a late growth spurt changed everything.
“Tell me, what is the nature of the Grimaldi curse?”
“Pardon?”
“The rumors say your family carries a witch’s mark as well.”
“Twins happen naturally,” she replied. “They don’t require magic.”
“I heard there was something else,” Bert pressed. “A price paid for the blood on your family’s hands.”
Adi’s brow furrowed. If every witch-hunter was cursed, the entire kingdom would be in shambles. The Grimaldis were singled out only because they had led the massacres. The public’s fear of that history had simply been rebranded as a supernatural omen.
“It was just bad luck that we were twins,” she muttered.
Bert nodded, acknowledging the common consensus. Adi couldn’t be sure if her family was truly hexed, especially now that she had seen the Duke’s undeniable condition.
“They say every member of your house lacks something essential,” Adi noted.
“I can’t speak for my grandfather; he died young,” she said aloud. “As for the current Count Grimaldi, he is devoid of basic humanity.”
She suspected that was just his personality, but Spencer Grimaldi’s reputation for cruelty was legendary. People said similar things about her, given the chaos she’d stirred up since arriving at the palace. But Adi had her own interpretation.
“And as for me, I have no soul.”
“You seem plenty spirited to me,” Bert remarked.
“The soul I had is dead and buried.”
Adi offered a smile that caught Bert off guard. He hadn’t expected someone to admit to such a thing with a look of genuine radiance.
“If you’d had a sister,” Bert mused, “she would have been a rare beauty.”
He was struck by how bright her expression was.
“Yes,” Adi whispered. “He was beautiful.”
For a brief moment, her mind drifted to the real Adrian. Had he lived, he might have eventually looked down at her, or perhaps they would have remained the same height. It was a pointless exercise in imagination; he was gone. In her mind, he remained small. She looked at the Duke and saw a reflection of the brother whose growth had been cut short at eighteen. Adrian would have been just as stunning a man.
“He was the one who deserved to live, not me.”
“Why go back to that dark talk?” Bert asked with a dry laugh, unsure if she was being dramatic or sincere. Adi didn’t care how he took it.
“Any more questions for me?”
“None.”
Adi turned her eyes forward, her interest extinguished. Pallesa Palace loomed ahead—a place she had called home for two years, yet a place whose deepest secrets remained hidden from her. She hoped the Duke would find his prize quickly and leave.
That was the plan, at least, until that letter changed everything.
