TM 10

Chapter 10 …

If That’s What He Wishes

“What brings the Duke’s knight to me?”

Lifting her chin gracefully, Lorelia asked with an air of mild aloofness, trying to recover from her earlier fluster.

“The Lord sent me. Upon hearing that you’d left the estate, he ordered me to escort you.”

“So, you’ve been following me since I left the mansion?”

“Yes, my lady.”

You could have at least said something if you were going to follow. Lorelia suppressed a sigh.

“He also ordered me to guide you if there’s anywhere you’d like to visit.”

“…I see. The Duke is very thoughtful.”

“He is indeed, Lady Hayes.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“I’m only fulfilling my duty.”

The knight maintained a formal tone and courteous bearing. There wasn’t even a trace of a smile on his face, and that, oddly enough, reassured Lorelia.

“Sir Axel, was it?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“It is an honor to serve you.”

Lowering her gaze slightly, Lorelia studied the knight’s earnest expression. He didn’t look like the gossiping sort—someone who would report her childish antics and mock her behind her back.

More than anything, the fact that Theobald had sent this knight made her a little giddy. He sent an escort… for me.

“I want to go somewhere high. Can you take me?”

“Somewhere high?”

“A place where I can see the whole city at a glance. Where’s the highest place around here?”

“That would, of course, be the lord’s castle. The northern tower of the estate is the tallest structure in Issen.”

After saying that, Axel paused thoughtfully.

“The second tallest is the bell tower of the Grand Temple, but since priests reside there, visiting without prior arrangements would be difficult. I believe Mont Hill would be a suitable alternative. There are no stairs to climb, and it isn’t far from here.”

“That sounds perfect. Let’s go there.”

“As you wish, my lady.”

After replying crisply, he nudged his horse toward the coachman to give instructions.

The coachman turned the carriage, and Axel rode alongside the window where Lorelia was seated. After a while, he deliberately fell a little behind so as not to block her view.

Thanks to that, Lorelia could comfortably enjoy the scenery outside. Knowing that a knight with a longsword was riding behind made her feel all the more secure. The vague unease she’d felt in this unfamiliar city melted away completely.

“Look over there. A river!”

“That’s the Sophia River. The city is divided east and west by it. The east side is the old district, full of historic buildings, while the west side is newer, filled with modern architecture.”

Lorelia shared what she had learned from Priest Holtmann, gazing at the water beyond the window. The name “Sophia” meant “wisdom.” Trisenians, who had long revered wisdom, named the capital’s lifeblood after it.

“It’s a river that has never known bloodshed. In over a thousand years of history, Trisen has never marched north. The southerners prefer dialogue over war, books over swords.”

The river that had witnessed a millennium of peace shimmered a deep, clear blue. Silver ripples danced on its sunlit surface. It was wide, and yet there were four bridges spanning it, each with different designs and materials. One was even made of cast iron—a bridge of iron. Lorelia had never seen anything like it in her life.

“This place is full of wonders.”

“It truly is, my lady.”

“Look at that white bridge. How did they even build something like that?”

When Lorelia pointed, Alicia eagerly chimed in. The carriage, which had been running along the riverside, crossed the river via the very bridge she had admired. On the other side, a steep, cliff-like hill rose ahead—their destination.

Though steeper than expected, the four strong horses pulled the carriage up the incline with ease.

As they ascended, the cityscape gradually unfolded beneath them. From above, the Sophia River formed a gentle, flowing curve. Lorelia pressed close to the window, marveling at the world shrinking below her.

When they reached the top, the carriage came to a halt.

“We’ve arrived, my lady.”

Axel dismounted first and opened the carriage door. He offered his hand to help the young noblewoman alight, then extended the same courtesy to her maid. Alicia seemed completely smitten by the young knight’s gallant manner, and Lorelia quietly chuckled to herself as she looked around.

At the summit of Mont Hill was a modest plaza, and in front of a stone-carved altar stood a colossal statue—a giant in regal robes and a crown, gazing down at the blue river and the city on both sides. Standing beneath it made Lorelia feel as small as a chick.

“Who is this?”

“This is King Sonnen I, the Sun King. Founder of the Pherbrante dynasty and hero of Trisen’s founding.”

The ancient king wore a longsword at his waist, but in his hand he held not a weapon, but a quill and parchment. A king with writing tools—a founding king, no less. Lorelia had never seen a statue of a king without a sword.

“Do you see that red building to the southeast?”

“The one with the tall spire?”

“Yes. That is the Grand Temple, designed by the Sun King himself.”

Lorelia’s mouth fell slightly open at the explanation. A king who designed buildings? In history books, kings were usually the ones destroying them.

“Trisen’s kings have been great scholars for generations. They devoted themselves to study and invention. Governing through wisdom, not force, is the southern tradition.”

Lorelia could hear the pride in Axel Fritz’s voice, even though he himself was a knight who had devoted his life to the sword.

“It’s a wonderful tradition. You must be very proud, Sir Axel.”

“Every Trisenian is proud to be a southerner, my lady.”

He even allowed himself a faint smile before adding more formally,

“Of course, we are also deeply grateful for His Majesty the King’s great grace.”

Lorelia’s heart sank slightly at that. She knew he said it because her father was a close aide to the King. That made her feel oddly guilty, like a wicked queen from a fairy tale picking on a good-hearted boy.

Trisen was part of the kingdom, but at the same time, it was isolated.

Apart from the royal family, there were four great noble houses on the continent: Glen in the north, Hayes in the central east, Alonso in the central west, and Pherbrante in the south.

The Pherbrante family had long cut off exchanges—not only with the royal family but with the other great houses as well. There were no godparent relationships between their children, and they married only within their own vassal nobility.

It had been over fifty years since they’d lost the throne. Inviting a northern noble into their estate was the first time since the war.

So they finally want to be friends with us… Throwing the gates wide open at last. Lorelia gazed at the city below with its blue rooftops. If they were opening their hearts, then she, too, had to do her part—with a sense of duty befitting her station.

She would help. If that’s what he wishes.

Turning north, she saw the lord’s castle gleaming white in the distance. With the blue sea at its back, the Trisen estate stood proudly—like a massive crown carved of marble.

What is he doing right now…?

“Is Duke Pherbrante at the estate?” Lorelia asked impulsively.

“The Lord is always at the estate, my lady,” Axel answered dutifully.

“…I see.”

With a polite but meaningless response, she kept her gaze fixed on the mansion. White clouds like cream drifted slowly across the vivid blue sky. A sweet scent rode the gentle breeze, perhaps from some hidden flowers in the surrounding thickets.

Invisible flowers… Breathing in their strange and enchanting fragrance, Lorelia quietly closed her eyes.

By the time they returned to the mansion, the sun was already dipping low. Axel Fritz had patiently escorted the central ladies around the city and returned them to the estate gate before heading back to the guard post.

“Southern men are all so dashing, aren’t they?” Alicia whispered in her ear, and Lorelia replied with a laugh.

Past the guards at the gate lay the grand central hall. In noble estates, the first-floor hall was always the most luxurious, and Trisen’s mansion was no exception. As soon as they entered, the grand staircase came into view.

Carpets covered the floor, silk wallpaper lined the walls, and the ceiling was intricately painted. The hall was breathtakingly opulent, but the most striking feature was the portrait hanging at the center of the second-floor corridor above the staircase.

The painting, three times life-size, depicted a man and woman seated side by side like giants. When Lorelia and her mother had first arrived, the butler had introduced them immediately:

“These are the Lord’s parents.”

Joseph Pherbrante and his wife—both with matching platinum hair, dressed in splendid garments, their expressions serene.

Lorelia looked up at their faint smiles. They occupied the most prominent place in the hall, like the true masters of the house—though they no longer lived here.

She stood there for a while, lost in an inexplicable feeling.

And then, he appeared.

Theobald entered with his butler, turning his head toward them with the most casual of movements.

His completely unguarded expression made it clear: he hadn’t prepared a polite smile for a lady. His face was blank, without any trace of emotion. It was probably why Lorelia’s heart skipped a beat the moment their eyes met.

Those blue eyes, utterly indifferent.

Before the massive portrait of his parents, he stopped walking. He didn’t take his gaze off the young woman standing at the bottom of the stairs. Then, turning his body, he began descending the staircase.

He was coming down. Step by step, with long legs, smoothly like flowing water.

Only when he stood before her did Lorelia manage to curtsy and smile.

“Lady Hayes.”

“Duke Pherbrante.”

“I heard you went into the city. You seem to have just returned.”

Theobald spoke with polite ease.

“Yes. Thanks to your arrangements, I had a wonderful time.”

“I trust the sightseeing was enjoyable?”

“Very much so.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“I didn’t expect you to send an escort. Thank you for your kindness.”

“I only did what was proper. I’m pleased it was of help.”

Their conversation flowed swiftly—four exchanges, just enough to satisfy etiquette between a nobleman and the daughter of an esteemed guest. If Theobald had excused himself right then, it would have been perfectly polite.

Should I try to prolong the conversation? No… it’d be rude to keep him.

While she hesitated, she kept looking up at him. He, too, looked down at her, as if waiting for something. Though he didn’t seem to have anything in particular to say, he made no move to leave.

That was what gave her the courage.

“I, um… I’d like to visit the northern tower. Would you be willing to show me around?”