Chapter 6
The knights, who had been laughing and talking with each other moments before, as well as Rosemary, all froze and stared at him and Liberte.
The man who had been using the duke’s name sat stiff for a long while, then rubbed his face several times, lowered his head, and gave a strange groan as he messed up his hair.
“…Since when did you know?”
He spoke with his head lowered. His tone, his manner, even his voice were completely different—like he had become another person.
As Liberte stared into the campfire and began to explain, he listened silently, not raising his eyes.
“I already thought something was odd before leaving the capital. You looked so flustered by my proposal, but even though I barely explained, you seemed to accept it almost immediately…”
She rested her chin on her finger as she spoke. At last he raised his eyes, looking at her intently, his reddish-brown eyes glowing darker in the firelight. Seeing his serious expression, Liberte had to suppress the urge to laugh.
“And the final clue was last night, the words you exchanged in the tent.”
“Ah—at that time, the other knights did call him ‘Captain’…”
Rosemary spoke up as if she had just remembered. The knights across the fire hunched their shoulders, but when Liberte turned, she saw their captain glaring fiercely at them. It didn’t really seem like it was their fault, though.
“And just now too—wasn’t your question strange in order? If you were truly a ruler of a domain, you would have asked about other things first, not about swords and horses.”
Liberte smiled directly at him. He sighed deeply and buried his head in his hands as if to say see, it’s not their fault! Alexis started laughing loudly, until Martin quickly covered his mouth and scolded him to mind his manners.
Both Liberte and Rosemary laughed out loud as well—for the first time in a while. Maybe this was his real personality. He looked… lighter, even happy.
“…I suppose I should properly introduce myself now.”
When the laughter quieted, he rose to his feet. His sheer height meant her eyes had to tilt far upward to meet his. He stood straight, placed his left hand over his chest, and bowed with perfect, precise form. Liberte looked up at him in silence.
“I am Iseris Brody Levitt, knight-captain and adjutant to the Duke of Nortr. Most call me Is Levitt.”
He ended with a faint smile at Liberte. She nodded. He slumped back down with another heavy sigh—clearly putting it on for her to see. Liberte chuckled softly.
“Do you have more questions? Within my authority, I’ll answer.”
He no longer seemed intent on hiding anything. Instead, with a weary smile, he admitted the truth openly. Perhaps he feared his master’s scolding, but it looked more like he had given up.
“Then I won’t hold back. Why does the Duke himself never come to the capital?”
Normally, a lord was required to appear personally for reports. But every time, the “duke” that Liberte had seen was this large man.
She had never thought to question it before. Strictly speaking, it was an insult to the royal family. Still, she wasn’t planning to accuse anyone—she only wanted to know why such a burden was always given to him.
“Well… if you see our lord directly, you’ll understand, but…”
Iseris trailed off. Alexis suddenly blurted in, voice too loud:
“It’s because our captain’s face looks so fierce!”
“Who gave him alcohol? Wait, there’s no wine here. Alexis, are you drunk on potion?”
Martin, who had been hovering nervously at his side, grabbed to cover Alexis’s mouth, but it was too late. Iseris buried his face in his palm and shouted in exasperation.
Martin bowed apologetically, then dragged Alexis off into the shadows of the forest to “let him rest.” With another sigh—how many times had it been that day?—Iseris slumped his shoulders.
“Sorry. He’s a good kid, really. He just can’t handle drink, or potions in this case. I didn’t expect it to be that bad.”
He muttered about how much alcohol a potion might contain, then gave Liberte a crooked smile.
“Well… it wasn’t entirely wrong.”
Turning his gaze back to the fire, Iseris brushed his fingers across the scar running across his face. Liberte said nothing, waiting for his next words.
“It’s just… you know the image people have when they think of ‘the North.’”
A land cold and barren. A land where battles with monsters never end. A land where dragons’ icy breath freezes the world. Such was the image. Liberte felt she understood what he wanted to say.
“When I was young, I came to the capital with the previous duke. I realized then. What people expect is someone who looks as if he’s fought hundreds of battles against monsters and never lost. Someone who can protect them. A scarred veteran who proves his strength just by appearance.”
He turned his face toward her, tapping the scar across his nose with a smile. In the firelight, his red-brown eyes glowed, touched with sadness.
For such a scar to remain even after healing—his life must have been at risk.
“Our lord… he’s not weak. Not at all. But he doesn’t look like the ‘Duke of the North’ people expect. If they saw him, they might laugh, say he’s a lie, and take him lightly.”
Iseris smiled faintly. His near two-meter frame, heavy beard, great scar, and burning eyes—all these made him look exactly like the terrifying northern warlord people imagined. He even shrugged, as if the scar had turned out to be useful.
Liberte lowered her gaze silently. The only sound was the crackle of the fire. She understood. People wanted kindness and warmth from a princess. But from the northern duke, they wanted harshness, a frightening figure to guard them against monsters. She tossed another log onto the flames.
She had rebelled against such expectations, but the duke had given people exactly what they wanted. Neither was right or wrong—it was simply the way of things.
“That’s all it is.”
As if reading her thoughts, Iseris murmured.
***
The next morning, their mountain march began again. Pushing through thick undergrowth, they soon found a hidden footpath. Clearly, Iseris and the others had used it many times—their movements were natural.
“To trade fur and supplies, we sometimes cross here.”
So, despite appearances, contact with the North was more frequent than it seemed. When Liberte remarked that the empire should not have granted only Nortr special travel rights, Iseris laughed aloud.
“This way has only been open for less than a hundred years. Before that, the North was exactly what you imagine.”
When she asked what had changed, he firmly replied that it wasn’t his place to say. His tone was so final that Liberte let it go. She could order him, but she didn’t wish to.
Days and nights passed as they pressed on. On the next day, they even came upon a farmhouse. Astonished that people lived there, she listened as Iseris explained: they were fugitives, escaping from crushing taxes in the nearby city.
She frowned, upset—she had thought she had done much to prevent such things, and yet here they were.
“From now on, we’ll need to ride day and night.”
Martin returned with food he’d bought from the farmhouse, his face troubled. An acquaintance there had warned him: strangers had come that morning, asking after a black-haired woman and a brown-haired woman.
They offered reward money to anyone who gave information. Without doubt, they meant Liberte and Rosemary.
Iseris shook his head bitterly. Liberte too was frustrated. Was sending her to the far North not enough? Clearly, her enemies were determined to kill her no matter what.
Rosemary comforted her quietly, saying once they reached Nortr, they would be safe. Liberte only nodded silently.
The party rode on again. Before, there had been conversation; now everyone was silent. They stopped only to rest their horses just enough to keep moving. Knowing they were being hunted, they dared not light fires.
They took turns on watch, though Liberte barely slept at all. Everyone knew it was unavoidable, but the constant pursuit wore them down. Sometimes Martin tried jokes, but nerves were so frayed no one laughed anymore.
Though they moved quietly, they could not always avoid pursuit. Sometimes Iseris or Rosemary silently killed enemies they spotted first.
Other times, they were discovered, and a fight broke out. Each time, the attackers went straight for Liberte. Perhaps bounty money had been promised.
Battles ended quickly and brutally, before noise could spread. They dragged the bodies far away to hide any trace of their path. At last, the pursuit lessened.
Quietly, without rest, the five of them pressed their horses onward
