CHAPTER 7
Philrod’s face was beet red, and his bald head was drenched in sweat.
The white wedding attire he had donned since morning to greet his young bride was now a mess—because he had thrashed about wildly after witnessing Lahan Norwich abduct his bride from the wheat field.
In the chaos, at least three of his subordinates had been slapped or kicked while trying to calm him down. Yet, Philrod’s men thought it would’ve been better if he had just kept rampaging through the wheat.
“They already consummated the marriage?! What the hell were the knights doing when they chased after them?!”
Now Philrod was storming around wielding an axe.
Erishi Aachen, the bride who had allegedly been kidnapped, appeared just as night was falling—with a man at her side.
Normally, the monastery would fall into quiet slumber at dusk. But thanks to the uproar caused by the search for Erishi Aachen, no one had slept a wink.
And then—
“Hear me! I am Lahan Norwich! I have come to announce that Erishi Aachen has become my wife as of today!”
A booming voice rang through the quiet monastery. Philrod’s eyes widened. The Aachen knights quickly climbed to the outer wall of the monastery.
There, on horseback, was the rogue Lahan Norwich, astride an Aachen steed.
“Behold! She is mine now!”
The man arrogantly declared that he and Erishi had already consummated the marriage, thus formalizing their union.
Philrod’s eyes bulged with rage.
“Seize him!”
The monastery gates burst open, and panicked priests and Philrod’s knights rushed out.
Erishi Aachen, pale and disheveled, was nestled in Lahan Norwich’s arms.
Her cheeks were streaked with tears. At the sight, no one doubted for a second that she had been violated by Lahan Norwich.
“Impossible! How could they consummate the marriage while being chased by my knights?!”
Philrod raged, but Lahan, still on horseback, sneered:
“Your knights couldn’t even catch someone right under their noses? Did their legs break or something?”
Apparently, Lahan had holed up at an inn in nearby Bandel with the girl.
Philrod had thought they’d ridden off in such a grand spectacle that they must have fled far away—but that misjudgment cost him everything.
The imperial maids—sent from the royal court—approached Erishi, supporting her pale and trembling body.
Meanwhile, Lahan dismounted and sarcastically handed the reins back to the Aachen knight.
“Thanks for the horse.”
Philrod couldn’t take it anymore—he struck Lahan across the face.
Smack.
The sound rang out. But the infamous right hand of Grand Duke Lachaize, feared throughout the empire, merely turned his head—unflinching.
Philrod screamed:
“You bastard! Do you think I don’t know Grand Duke Lachaize is meddling in Aachen’s affairs?!”
“Oh dear, my dear sister doesn’t know anything about this. What a pity.”
Lahan shrugged, his tone still mocking—but his eyes sharpened. His hand drifted toward the sword on his belt.
His red eyes gleamed ominously. Philrod flinched instinctively.
Those crimson eyes—unnatural even among monsters—were said to be the reason the Countess of Norwich, his birth mother, had abandoned him.
But Philrod couldn’t have known that what truly frightened him wasn’t the eyes, but the killer’s aura of a knight who had once cleaved through the unbelievers of Til Neve Cedric during a grand crusade.
And then—
“Sir Knight…”
It was Erishi Aachen, pale and trembling, who stopped Lahan.
She placed her hand on his and shook her head, eyes full of clarity.
Don’t do it.
“Bastards.”
Philrod’s eyes narrowed. Everyone knew that Erishi Aachen’s mother was a distant relative of Grand Duke Lachaize.
There was no doubt—the woman, blinded by ambition for the throne, had interfered in this marriage.
Damn it!
Meanwhile, the imperial maids led Erishi back inside the monastery—to verify whether Lahan’s claims were true.
Back to the present—
“Damn it!”
Philrod wanted nothing more than to hurl the axe in his hand at Lahan Norwich. But he was terrified the man might cut him down if provoked further.
So he turned his fury toward Prior Wilbert, who had quietly observed the chaos until now.
He stomped toward him and shouted,
“Hey! Prior Wilbert! What is the meaning of this?! How could you allow the monastery’s defenses to be this lax? How will you take responsibility for allowing my bride to be stolen?!”
But the white-haired priest only lowered his head apologetically.
“I too am quite stunned by all of this, Lord Philrod Aachen.”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t know anything! I will bring this to the Emperor and demand full punishment!”
But that would only work if the marriage hadn’t been consummated.
Philrod needed to worry about his own neck first. What would his father, Herberth, do when he heard his son had lost his bride with both eyes wide open?
Please, blessed Eridrahan…
But heaven was not on Philrod’s side.
“…I regret to inform you, but Lady Aachen has indeed consummated the marriage.”
When the Empress’s chief maid, Lady Eselheim, emerged with that flat declaration, Philrod grabbed the back of his neck in shock.
“Lies! Examine her again!”
“Lord Philrod Aachen, such demands are pointless. We have already completed the procedure three times. Or are you suggesting…”
Lady Eselheim narrowed her eyes and continued coldly:
“That I, who carry out His Majesty’s command, am lying and defying the Emperor’s will?”
Even arrogant Philrod couldn’t ignore that.
No matter how powerful the Aachen Electorate was, no one dared challenge the Emperor’s authority.
Eselheim was the Empress’s closest maid, and this trip to Windrock Monastery was directly ordered by the Emperor himself.
It was no wonder she was acting so boldly. She continued calmly:
“No matter how many times we test her, the result is the same. The marriage between Lady Erishi Aachen and Sir Lahan Norwich is valid and consummated.”
But Philrod was boiling with frustration.
Where did it all go wrong?!
It had been his wedding.
Then suddenly Grand Duke Lachaize’s faction swooped in—could the Emperor really be on their side?
Just as he wondered that—
Eselheim turned toward Lahan and spoke again.
“However, I must also state this: As one acting on His Majesty’s orders, I find it hard not to suspect that Grand Duke Lachaize has interfered in this matter.”
Philrod’s face lit up.
Yes! That’s it!
In the Poldenbach Empire, there were seven electors—but only a few wielded real influence.
The Aachen Ducal House was one of them. Philrod’s father, Herberth, supported Elio Poldenbach—brother of Grand Duke Lachaize—as the next Emperor.
Though Grand Duke Lachaize’s title had gone to his sister, Yvette, Elio’s claim was more legitimate.
Elio had the support of the Aachen Ducal House, the Marquess of Karakal, and the Border Count of Norwich.
Yvette Lachaize—Lahan’s half-sister—wasn’t originally in line for the throne but had drawn near by sheer capability.
And the whole empire knew she wanted that throne.
If she were to interfere with the Aachen House’s succession… say, by marrying Erishi Aachen to her right-hand man, then perhaps—
“Six years ago, the Grand Duke sent you on the Glorious Crusade, did he not, Sir Norwich?”
Eselheim looked directly at Lahan.
“I can’t help but wonder… is this marriage your second crusade?”
In other words—Did Grand Duke Lachaize put you up to this?
