Chapter 11
Sebastian’s face was uncharacteristically contorted in a frown.
He reached out his arm toward Erica.
With his index finger extended, he motioned upward with a flick.
He clearly meant to deal with the thing that had been bothering him.
“Get up. It’s unsightly.”
“Ah… y-yes!”
Startled by his raised voice, Erica hurriedly stood up.
Because she had been kneeling, the white dress she wore was now a bit soiled.
There was dirt and dust on her knees and shins. She tried brushing it off with her hand, but the stains remained.
Embarrassed, Erica’s cheeks turned red. Just then, Sebastian spoke again.
“Don’t kneel so carelessly ever again.”
“…Yes.”
Erica answered in a subdued, almost muttering voice.
Sebastian pressed his lips together for a moment before adding a line that sounded oddly like an excuse.
“Now that we’re married, you’re no longer of the Blanche Marquisate. You’re part of House Acliff.”
“Ah… yes.”
“Don’t bring shame or lower the dignity of the Acliff ducal house.”
Erica nodded, her expression somewhat deflated.
“Yes, I understand. I’ll conduct myself properly.”
Though her response was polite, Sebastian’s frown didn’t ease.
Apparently, it wasn’t the reaction he’d wanted.
Still, as if speaking further would be beneath him, he turned away after briefly glancing at Milrod, silently telling him to clean up the situation.
As though he’d been expecting it, Milrod stepped forward toward Erica.
“Now we can finally depart, my lady—no, young madam. Allow me to escort you to the carriage.”
With one hand behind his back and the other extended, Milrod offered his arm.
Erica, still blushing with embarrassment, timidly placed her fingertips on his arm.
“Thank you. Um…”
“Milrod, at your service.”
“Yes, Sir Milrod.”
With a fairly proper escort, Erica boarded the grand carriage of House Acliff that Sebastian had brought from his domain.
She sat down and absentmindedly looked out the window, where she spotted Bongfiju awkwardly trying to follow.
Her heart sank again, and the brightness that had briefly returned to her face faded once more.
I forgot. Lord Bongfiju is supposed to ride in the same carriage too.
Just imagining the scolding she’d receive the moment the door closed made her mood even gloomier.
Bongfiju was getting closer.
Just as she placed one foot on the carriage step—
Sebastian stretched out his sword sheath and blocked her path.
“You are not permitted anything that belongs to Acliff. In short, you are not allowed to board.”
“Y-your Grace… I-I thought I was… f-forgiven…”
Sebastian’s lips twisted.
“How shameless. You should be grateful I spared your life, yet you open your mouth again to spout nonsense.”
Bongfiju, his face pale, looked at Sebastian in stunned disbelief, but the boy remained firm.
“She’s already—”
He could have said wife, but perhaps it still felt awkward.
Sebastian paused to search for the right word, then continued.
“The kid wants you to come along, so I won’t stop you from following. But get there on your own. If you don’t like that, feel free to return to your master.”
With that, Sebastian shut the door of the carriage himself and kicked up the step, making it impossible for Bongfiju to board even belatedly.
Bongfiju bowed his head deeply with a deathly pale face, then hurried off toward the small, rickety carriage belonging to the Marquisate.
“He’s probably going to follow anyway, even if it kills him.”
Sebastian scoffed and raised his hand with a flick.
“Milrod.”
“Yes, Lord Sebastian.”
Milrod closed the distance instantly and lowered his voice to a near whisper.
Sebastian didn’t take his eyes off the carriage as he issued an order, speaking low enough that no one else could hear.
“Milrod. Look into Erica Blanche.”
“You mean the young lady—no, young madam?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm. Is there something troubling you about her?”
Sebastian didn’t respond.
Milrod glanced at the young lord’s expression but couldn’t read any clear signs of emotion.
He must have something in mind.
Clicking his tongue quietly, Milrod asked another question.
“Then, what exactly should I focus on?”
“Everything.”
“…Sorry?”
“Don’t filter anything. Bring me everything you gather.”
“…Understood. I’ll send word immediately.”
Milrod answered respectfully and stepped back, widening the distance between them.
At that moment, Sebastian looked toward the elderly priest.
“Then, we’ll be on our way.”
The old priest nodded regretfully and added a final blessing.
“May your days ahead be filled with blessings.”
“Thank you. I hope we meet again.”
Without wasting another moment, Sebastian leapt onto his black horse.
He nudged the horse’s belly with his heels, urging it forward.
At the signal of his horse moving, the carriage carrying Erica also began to roll forward.
So we’re really leaving now…
It was certainly much more stable and spacious than the carriage Marquis Blanche had lent her, but somehow it made her feel even more nervous.
Trying to calm herself, Erica took a deep breath and whispered the farewell she hadn’t been able to say aloud.
We’ll definitely meet again. So… please wait for me, Mother.
Erica looked out the window with a heavy heart, then slowly drew the curtain shut.
For a ten-year-old girl, the journey to the Acliff duchy was far from easy, to say the least.
Especially when the road led through mountains or forests beyond the estates, the paths were often unpaved.
No matter how large or sturdy the ducal carriage was, it couldn’t completely avoid the rocks that caught in the wheels. As a result, Erica would sometimes be jolted upward without warning, bouncing like a ball on her seat.
To make matters worse, the carriage was moving at a very fast pace.
I-I’m scared…
Erica had pulled aside the curtain on the window, but the rapidly changing scenery terrified her, and she let go of the fabric she had been clutching.
It was dizzying—watching for too long made her feel like she’d get motion sickness.
Though she felt stifled, Erica endured it well.
Endurance was one of her few strengths, and something she took pride in.
There wasn’t much she could do inside the carriage, and once she grew bored, Erica fell into her thoughts.
Naturally, those thoughts revolved around her new husband, Sebastian.
What kind of person is he normally?
Her first impression had been nothing short of terrifying.
Sebastian wasn’t the type to be kind, not even out of politeness.
She didn’t know the details, but anyone could see he had been forced into this marriage by imperial command. So it seemed he didn’t feel any need to treat “the daughter of Marquis Blanche” with any warmth.
It’s like… he doesn’t consider me at all.
Their meeting at the temple had been brief.
Since then, apart from running into him during carriage stops, they hadn’t exchanged any words.
Occasionally, when she mustered the courage to glance his way, she would catch him scratching his head and sighing deeply.
“Damn it. This is a snail’s pace. At this rate, when are we ever going to reach Acliff?”
Erica had thought the speed was dizzyingly fast, so hearing Sebastian call it slow had shocked her.
He must be incredibly busy…
She recalled a remark she had overheard at the temple and guessed the reason.
“The border situation isn’t looking good.”
It was a forced march.
Unless his aide Milrod suggested resting out of concern for Erica’s stamina, Sebastian would drive the group forward for days without pause.
It seemed that “the border” was all Sebastian could think about.
What exactly is going on at the border…?
