Chapter 97: Departure
“Hmm, but do you really need to earn merits on this mission? I can make sure you get a better opportunity next time, Aracila,” Frederick said, his tone coaxing.
“No way! It has to be this one. Taking down high-level magical beasts isn’t something you get to do every day,” Aracila insisted firmly.
Frederick fell into thought, his posture—legs crossed, eyes lowered—almost statuesque, though Aracila was too focused to notice.
After a long pause, he spoke. “Alright, fine. If you want it that badly, I’ll make it happen. It’s not like it’s a bad deal for you.”
“Thanks, Frederick,” she said, relieved.
“No problem. Besides, going there yourself might let you… tie up some loose ends,” he added with a cryptic smile.
Aracila didn’t catch the deeper meaning behind his words, too preoccupied with her goal of protecting Damian. For now, she set the ambiguity aside.
Frederick promptly arranged for the western beast subjugation to become a joint mission between the Red Hawk Knights and the Magic Tower.
With the official request in hand, Aracila went to Philip.
“Master, I’ve secured a beast subjugation mission. Please allow me to represent the Magic Tower,” she said, bowing and presenting the document.
Philip looked at his disciple, startled by her sudden request. “This is the mission you mentioned earlier? You’re serious about earning merits?”
“Exactly, Master. Please, let me go,” she urged.
“But… really? You’re saying you want to go on a mission with knights?”
He’d understood her earlier request to pursue a mission through the imperial family, but learning it was a joint operation with the Red Hawk Knights left him incredulous. Aracila nodded.
“Working with the knights will make it easier to earn merits. It’s a win-win, isn’t it?”
She wasn’t wrong, but Philip was still dumbfounded. No mage from the Magic Tower had ever proposed collaborating with knights like this before.
He fixed her with a serious look. “Aracila, you haven’t forgotten you’re in a contract marriage with that man, have you?”
“Of course not, Master,” she replied smoothly. “That’s why I’m doing this—to share in his achievements. Why let him have all the glory?”
Once again, she avoided the truth, spinning a convenient excuse. The reason was simple: Philip still worried about her marriage to Damian, and she’d never told him about her prophetic dreams. Even if she did now, she wasn’t sure he’d believe her.
More importantly, this explanation was quicker and less complicated than laying out her true motives.
As expected, Philip’s expression softened at her claim of wanting to steal some of Damian’s credit. With a characteristic chuckle, he nodded.
“Very well. Since you secured the mission, you can lead it. I’ll assign mages who are friendly to you.”
“Thank you,” she said gratefully.
Everything fell into place.
Finally, Aracila informed Damian of the joint mission.
As expected, he stared at her in disbelief. “Did you do this on purpose?”
“What, you think I did it by accident?” she retorted. “I’m doing this to prevent your death, so don’t try to stop me.”
“But a high-level beast subjugation is too dangerous. It’s not something to take lightly,” he protested.
“I know that. It’s not like I’ve never done it before.”
Though not as experienced as Damian, Aracila had plenty of beast subjugation missions under her belt. She was one of the mages who always volunteered when the Magic Tower took on such tasks. Even high-level beasts, while rare, hadn’t posed insurmountable challenges for her.
Damian rubbed his forehead, exasperated. “You saw me die in your dream, and yet you’re insisting on coming to such a dangerous place? I’ll be careful, so please, stay here.”
“No way. The mission’s already set as a joint operation, so I can’t back out either. And didn’t you say you’d support me? Start with this mission.”
“…”
“Do it now—support me.”
Having already cast herself as the scheming wife out to claim her husband’s glory, Aracila was ready to lean into the role fully.
Reading the fierce determination in her eyes, Damian sighed. It was clear he wouldn’t dissuade her.
The day of departure for Poshan Village in the west arrived.
The front of the Vandemir estate buzzed with activity. Everyone participating in the beast subjugation mission had gathered there, creating a lively scene.
Those in black uniforms stood distinctly apart from those in white.
“Are we really going with mages?”
The black-clad group was, of course, the Red Hawk Knights, led by Damian.
“Ugh, knights are kind of intimidating,” came a murmur from the white-clad mages, who had joined the mission under Aracila’s command.
Whispers and chatter rippled through both groups, only quieting when their respective leaders appeared.
Damian, dressed in the Red Hawk Knights’ uniform, and Aracila, in her Magic Tower attire, stepped out side by side.
The knights snapped to attention, saluting Damian as he approached.
“Is everything ready?” he asked.
“Yes, Commander!”
Their response rang out, bold and spirited, their energy undimmed despite the early hour.
Aracila, standing before the mages—who winced slightly at the knights’ booming voices—spoke with a calm authority. “Let’s do our best out there.”
“Yes, Senior!” the mages replied, their voices less forceful but earnest.
The mages gathered were mostly Aracila’s juniors, regardless of age.
Their half-hearted, drawling response prompted quiet snickers from the knights.
Damian and Aracila surveyed their respective groups, then, as if by unspoken agreement, issued near-identical warnings.
“Anyone who picks fights or stirs trouble with the mages without cause will face severe consequences,” Damian declared.
“If I catch any of you brawling with the knights, you’ll answer to me,” Aracila added sharply. “Try me if you want to find out.”
Their message was clear: no conflict with the other side would be tolerated.
The knights and mages nodded at their leaders but continued to cast sidelong glances at each other, their gazes far from friendly.
With an undercurrent of tension, the joint subjugation team of the Red Hawk Knights and the Magic Tower took its first steps forward.
Since the Duchess’s birthday celebration, the atmosphere in the Vandemir Duchy had been relentlessly grim.
The outcome of the party had been the opposite of what was desired, an unsurprising result.
The Duke and the Dowager Duchess had unleashed their fury on the Duchess, berating her for mishandling the situation. She bowed her head like a condemned sinner, bearing the weight of their blame alone. Though the Duke and Dowager had consented to the plan, she had orchestrated and executed it, so the responsibility fell squarely on her shoulders.
After their tirade subsided, the Duchess, wary of their volatile moods, ventured cautiously, “It seems separating those two won’t be easy. What if we destroy the late Duke’s will instead?”
Even if the Emperor had notarized it, without the physical document, it would be meaningless. Having witnessed the strong bond between Damian and Aracila, the Duchess saw this as a more promising option.
The Duke, puffing on his cigar, scowled at her suggestion. “If that were possible, I’d have done it ages ago! That’s why we destroyed the copy! But we don’t even know where the original is—how do you propose we deal with that?”
Few knew, but the will the ducal family possessed had been a copy. The original’s whereabouts were a mystery, hidden somewhere by the late Duke in his final, senile days.
“Ugh…” The Duke let out a heavy, burdened sigh, flicking ash from his cigar as he muttered under his breath, “Maybe we should just wait for the throne to change…”
A new ruler might offer a more reliable ally, giving them some peace of mind.
The three continued to discuss various strategies, but no viable solutions emerged. Exhausted, the Dowager Duchess retired first, and the ducal couple prepared to return to their chambers when a knock sounded at the Duke’s study door.
The couple exchanged puzzled glances. Moments later, Oscar stepped inside.
“Both of you are here—perfect. I have something to discuss,” he said, his face lit with a smile as he took a seat across from the Duchess, diagonal to the Duke.
The Duchess, ever anxious that her often tactless son might provoke her husband’s ire, quickly asked, “What is it, Oscar?”
“Well…” Oscar took a deep breath, his expression turning serious and resolute as he addressed his parents. “Mother, Father, send me to the capital.”
Before he could finish, a vein bulged at the Duke’s temple.
Oscar had long pestered them to let him visit the capital for frivolous pursuits. Infuriated that his son would make such a demand during their family’s precarious situation, the Duke roared, “What, so you can go gallivanting again? You useless boy, when will you grow up—!”
“No, Father, it’s not like that! I have a different purpose this time!”
Oscar raised both hands, desperate to quell his father’s anger before he was scolded and dismissed.
“What other purpose? To chase women in the capital? Stop your nonsense and stay put in the duchy! Don’t go stirring up trouble!”
“Father, I swear it’s not that,” Oscar pleaded, his face etched with frustration.
Softened by his son’s distress, the Duchess intervened. “Darling, it sounds like Oscar has something important to say. Let’s hear him out. He may make mistakes, but he’s clever and sharp at heart.”
“Please, Father, just listen to me before you decide,” Oscar implored.
The earnest looks from his wife and son tempered the Duke’s anger. With a loud cough, he jerked his head, signaling Oscar to speak.
Oscar launched into his plan, one he’d been devising since the hunting festival: he would marry Iris to fulfill the conditions of the late Duke’s will, just as Damian had.
That bookish Eric only got ahead because I was stuck in the duchy. If I go to the capital, I can turn things around.
Oscar hadn’t stopped contacting Iris out of heartbreak or clarity. He’d been too busy agonizing over why she’d chosen Eric over him. His conclusion?
By staying in the duchy and communicating only from afar, he’d given Eric, who was right in front of her, the chance to win her over. If he went to the capital and formally courted her, he could reclaim her heart.
It was a delusion bordering on fantasy, but to the ducal couple, it sounded like a plausible strategy—a fatal flaw in their judgment.
“Yes… if we can’t force a divorce, then let Oscar fulfill the same conditions!” the Duke exclaimed, slapping his knee.
If Damian and Oscar met the will’s terms equally, Oscar, as the eldest son with the current Duke’s backing, would have the advantage. The ducal title would pass to him.
The Duchess, sharing her husband’s reasoning, showered Oscar with praise. “That’s my boy! So clever, Oscar.”
“Of course! He takes after me!” the Duke boasted.
Buoyed by his parents’ approval, Oscar swelled with pride. Conveniently, he’d omitted the fact that Iris had already rejected him.
Thus, Oscar’s trip to the capital was swiftly decided.
The day after Damian and Aracila set out for the west, Oscar departed for the capital.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
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