Chapter 08
Marc Hunt’s face clearly showed his confusion.
After all, who in the army would dare speak to the Second Commander like this?
Well, maybe Schloitz could…
But he probably wouldn’t use such peaceful methods. That was just a gut feeling.
“It seems you’re a little too blinded by the rules of high society, Sir.”
“…I beg your pardon, Lady Lefevre?”
“Even if Duke Madros is deeply fond of the Lefevre family, could that bond possibly be stronger than the one he shares with Commander Procyon? They once held the same position together.”
“Yes… well, of course.”
“Exactly. That’s why the order is all wrong.”
“…What do you mean?”
“The Madros family should have proposed to Commander Procyon first. My brother hasn’t even joined the military, and there’s no connection between him and Madros. A marriage talk? That’s just ridiculous.”
“…Pardon?”
“Didn’t you hear me the first time?”
I repeated the words that Lord Balock had drilled into me so many times I could say them in my sleep.
“This is the army, Sir Marc Hunt.”
As soon as I said it, Marc’s shoulders tensed instinctively. A beat later, confusion appeared on his face.
“…I’m sorry, Lady Lefevre. I didn’t hear you well. Could you please repeat that?”
“I said, Duke Madros should send his marriage proposal to Commander Procyon first.”
“How could I possibly tell the Duke what to do about his daughter’s marriage…?”
“Didn’t you just try to tell me what to do about it?”
Marc slowly closed his mouth. I jerked my chin toward the exit.
“Two days? That should be enough.”
“W-wait, Lady Blandae Lefevre…!”
I didn’t even have an assigned assistant yet, so I walked over myself and recorded the time. Then I added warmly,
“I’ll give you exactly 25 hours. Run.”
“Lady Lefevre!”
****
“You want me to send a marriage proposal to Schloitz Procyon again?”
“W-well…”
“Do you think this is all some kind of joke?!”
“N-no, never! Ow!”
Duke Madros plopped into his seat, fuming. He used to be the Supreme Commander—at least until he was overpowered by a beast and lost the title. Typically, Supreme Commanders didn’t even go to the front lines.
Most of them held the position for decades.
But Duke Madros was the first one who didn’t even last 15 years. All because of that damn boy who pulled off way too many achievements.
To make it worse, the boy wasn’t even from a noble line—he came from a family with a traitor’s history! And yet, he still became Supreme Commander. That alone was infuriating, but now every noble and commoner in the capital was singing his praises.
Youngest ever Supreme Commander… peerless swordsman… the knight who saved ten territories…
Duke Madros had ground his teeth so hard he now probably needed dentures. He should’ve staged an accident and gotten rid of Schloitz Procyon back when he first rose to fame. He didn’t expect that brat to climb so fast, becoming the unshakable pillar of the military.
By the time he came to his senses, he had lost both his position and influence.
At first, he tried to act smart. Like it or not, Schloitz Procyon was insanely talented—and now Supreme Commander.
It hurt his pride, but it seemed likely that no one would ever surpass Schloitz in his lifetime. The man would hold that position for a very long time.
So Duke Madros tried to secure his future through marriage.
He proposed—three times. And only after being turned down every time did he finally realize…
That bastard wasn’t politely declining. He was completely serious.
There’s a limit to how much one can insult a noble house!
“What does he want? A princess?! But the Queen must have arranged dozens of meetings with princesses, and he never once came to the capital!”
“……”
“He’s ruthlessly kicking out all my people too. I know exactly what he’s doing behind the scenes. He’s making it even worse by being subtle about it!”
The Supreme Commander’s position was almost like being a king—except it didn’t pass by bloodline.
Still, every new commander respected the previous one. They usually kept the old commander’s men, at least out of courtesy.
But that guy’s acting like he owns the whole place. Ignoring protocol, humiliating me—bit by bit, he’s cutting off all my people.
If he had done it all at once in a fit of youthful arrogance, the public might’ve criticized him. But he didn’t even care about social reputation, and he was quietly removing everyone, one by one. That made it worse.
“Marc Hunt.”
“Yes, Duke Madros…!”
“You don’t want to lose your position as Second Commander, do you? But let’s be honest—do you think you can keep it under that arrogant brat? Maybe you’ll survive in a low-level officer’s position. But do you think I would let that happen?”
Marc Hunt’s face was slowly draining of color.
“P-please, Duke Madros. Let me live!”
“Oh, you want to live?”
Duke Madros smiled. He was a cruel man.
“Yes! I want to live! Please!”
“We can’t touch Schloitz Procyon.”
“……”
“But Raphael Clovis… that guy’s a slippery one.”
“Sir?”
“His family is weak. With enough pressure and persuasion, he’ll come over to our side eventually.”
Duke Madros handed Marc a bank draft with a jaw-dropping sum on it. Marc gulped hard.
“Oh, and the marriage proposal?”
“Yes! She practically ordered me to make it! Didn’t even blink!”
“She’s got guts. Just like a Lefevre.”
Most nobles would stay low and cautious for three months after joining the military. But not her.
As expected of a Lefevre…
“Fine. Out of respect for her noble family, I’ll send one last proposal.”
“To Schloitz Procyon again?”
“Why the hell would I send it to that bastard again? Just send it to someone. As long as there’s a proposal, that’s all that matters.”
****
“…Sorry, but are you insane?”
At Raphael’s words, I forgot the situation and burst out laughing. I looked down at the thick, elegant letter with poetry written inside.
“I didn’t think Madros would actually send a marriage proposal.”
“How is this a real proposal? It’s obviously a political move!”
“Well, that’s how noble life goes. We’re all used to being used for strategic marriages.”
“Lady Blandae…”
Raphael looked at me, stunned.
“I know the Lefevres are noble, but even the second-borns aren’t that strict. Do you think I’m stupid?”
I chuckled and looked out the office window.
The proposal had arrived just earlier, when I was in the auxiliary office next to Schloitz’s main one. It wasn’t even my office.
Clearly, Madros had sent it on purpose, just to show it off. And even though they were being petty, they still cared enough about appearances to have the actual son of Madros deliver the flowers and letter himself.
Of course—they didn’t want to lose face.
And maybe they were still a little scared of the Lefevres.
From the outside, it looked like a decent proposal.
Because of it, the entire military was buzzing. And poor Raphael, already overworked, had dropped everything and rushed over in outrage. Not surprising—it was such a transparent, shameless political move.
They probably did this knowing it’d stir up trouble too.
I sat down and began writing a reply. Beside me, Raphael subtly tried to peek at the contents. His eyes grew wider and wider.
“Lady Blandae?!”
“What?”
“Are you… rejecting it?”
“Of course I am. Did you think I’d accept it?”
“No… I mean—are you rejecting it this fast?”
A fair question. Not even ten minutes had passed since I received the letter.
In noble society, even if you had no intention of accepting a proposal, it was considered polite to wait a week before giving your answer.
Like the young Lord Madros, who was currently waiting outside for my response—even though he probably knew he wouldn’t get one today. Still, he had to wait at least thirty minutes to keep up appearances.
But for me, this was actually a good thing.
“I’m rejecting it. This isn’t high society—what do I care about?”
Everyone forgets, but this wasn’t a ballroom. This was the military. In high society, a harsh rejection might’ve damaged my reputation, but not here.
Besides, I didn’t fear gossip. And I had no plans to marry anyway, so my reputation didn’t matter.
I carefully wrote the rejection using all the standard poetic phrases nobles used. Then I signed my name, waited for the ink to dry, checked it with my finger, and folded the letter into an envelope.
“Lady Blandae…!”
Raphael followed quickly behind as I stood and left the room.
Outside, the young Lord Madros turned around abruptly. He looked startled—probably because I came out too soon.
“L-Lady Lefevre…”
He was so surprised he was even stuttering.
Without saying anything, I handed him the letter. His hand seemed to tremble a little… or maybe I imagined it. I silently watched him open the envelope.
Just as I thought, there was no visible shock on his face. We had never even met before. And even though political marriages were common, people usually knew each other’s faces beforehand.
He had probably been pushed into this ridiculous performance by his father, too.
