Clara walked silently beside me. Well, not silently-silently. Her eyes kept flicking toward me like she was debating something.
"Young Master," she finally asked, "will our manpower be sufficient to handle Ashen on the way to the border?"
Ah. There it was.
Inwardly, I sighed. So she thinks I let Marla escape as some bait tactic. That by letting her scurry back to her little rat's nest, we're somehow tricking the higher-ups into sending reinforcements we can wipe out on the road. Cute. Very Clara of her.
But she should know better. Things won't be that easy.
"It only worked back in the castle," I told her, slipping my hands behind my back like I was trying to look more composed than I actually was. "Because they were already frustrated. The sudden rise in active Falcon guards made the Ashen nervous. They made mistakes. Got sloppy. I took advantage of that hunger and impatience."
Not to mention... Inspect showing Maria's intelligence as a B-tier helped. Gave me just enough edge to manipulate the strings without snapping them.
"But that's not the case now," I continued. "Anyone smart enough to stay hidden for this long won't be dumb enough to not realize we let her escape."
Clara's expression didn't change, but I saw it, the subtle tightness around her eyes. She understood.
"And besides," I added, "our travel route cuts through major pathways, skipping isolated places like the Falcon forests and the valleys. If they want to ambush us, they'd need to move in from a distance. Larger groups would be easy to detect."
"So they'll likely send a small elite unit," Clara concluded softly.
"Yup. And our guard unit will be able to neutralise smaller groups without losses. Best case scenario."
Worst case?
The leader himself shows up. The one who's kept their entire operation hidden inside our land for over a decade.
The guy who's probably got more brains and blood on his hands than half the duchy combined.
If he shows up with that small group?
Yeah… we'd lose people. Maybe badly. But if we kill him? Worth it. Sort of. I guess. Assuming I survive to say "I told you so."
Still, let's pray it doesn't come to that.
"You don't have to worry, Young Master," Clara said, her voice carrying that gentle, steady confidence she always seemed to radiate. "I will be there, and so will the Falcon Guards. Nothing will touch you."
Right. Nothing will touch me. Because Clara's going to karate-chop everyone into next week.
I didn't say anything. Just kept walking beside her while thinking, God, I hope she's right.
We finally turned the last corner, and the wide courtyard opened up to us. The main fountain stood at the center, its crystal-clear water sparkling in the early morning light.
Waiting there already were the duchess and both of Duke Everard's wives.
Priscilla stood tall and elegant in her fur-lined cloak, arms crossed loosely, looking as if she couldn't decide whether this send-off was worth her sleep time.
Beside her, Juli bounced on her toes, barely containing her excitement. She was bundled in a pale blue coat that made her look like a noble marshmallow.
And then, standing slightly apart with her usual quiet dignity, was my mother, Serena. Duchess of Falcon. Her expression was composed, lips slightly curved, but I didn't miss the trace of sadness in her eyes.
All of them had maids attending close by, but their presence faded into the background the moment I stepped forward.
I bowed respectfully, hands over my chest.
"Mother. Lady Priscilla. Juli."
"Brother!" Juli waved both arms at me like I'd already left for six years and forgotten to write.
Clara gave her signature curtsy, silent and graceful.
The air was brisk, the fountain's soft trickling the only sound filling the silence that followed.
Seems like Father isn't here yet. Which means I haven't missed my cue.
The plan was simple enough: depart alongside him and split paths at the crossroad near Oak Valley. He'd go charm the Emperor with his typical deadpan elegance, and I'd go play border babysitter. Great.
"Brother!" A soft tug on my hand broke my thoughts.
Juliette had made her way closer, her fingers wrapping around mine. She looked up with those bright eyes, the kind that could probably convince a wyvern to sit down and behave.
"Good luck on your journey," she said, her voice quiet but sure. "We might meet again in two months! Mother said there's a training program in Vellmere."
Ah, right. The Vellmere drills.
"I'll be looking forward to it," I said, squeezing her hand gently. "Make sure you don't end up beating up your instructors, alright?"
She gave me a proud little nod that did not reassure me.
Next, I walked toward Priscilla.
She looked as elegant as always, guarded and graceful. I gave her a slight bow. "I'll be departing for the Valthryon border now."
"Good luck," she replied, her voice calm and polished like porcelain. Pleasant, but distant enough to remind me she's a Guesclin and not my bedtime storyteller.
Then came my mother.
As I stepped toward her and lowered my head into a deeper bow, her hand rose and rested on my shoulder before I could say anything.
"Good luck on the journey," she said gently. "And don't forget to write me letters. Describe your days. Also…"—a pause—"…falling back is considered a good tactic when dealing with foes that require slow surgery."
I smirked at the irony layered in that advice.
"Noted," I replied. "I'll try not to die, and yes, I'll write you letters full of thrilling borderland bureaucracy."
She gave a small smile, but her eyes lingered on me for a second longer than the rest. I got the message.
And then. Footsteps. Familiar, steady, echoing like an old war drum.
Everard entered the fountain court with Sebastian walking just behind. Like some mythical beast arriving late to a royal banquet.
All of us bowed at once.
With the Duke's arrival, command naturally passed to the next in line. Serena stepped forward slightly and spoke in a voice both soft and absolute.
"Good luck on the journey, my lord."
The others followed her words like a chorus.
I gave them all a final nod. "You too. Stay safe and carry out your duties like usual. Don't let the castle burn while I'm gone." Tone sarcastic, but no one dared to smile.
Everard turned to me then, his sharp gaze weighing me without a word.
"All set?" he asked.
I straightened up. "All set. I'll depart on your command."
He nodded once, curt and final, before stepping into his carriage.
I turned back to the others. One last bow.
Then I got into mine.
And the road began to move beneath us.
.
By mid-morning, the snow-kissed hills of Oak Valley stretched out before us.
The junction sat at a natural fork, one path curving east toward the majestic spires of the Valthryon Royal Capital, the other trailing southward into the borderlands.
The wind here had teeth, sharper than usual, biting through even the layered warmth of my coat.
The horses snorted and shifted, their breath fogging in short puffs. Around us, Falcon banners flapped crisply above armored carriages and guards mounted with spears.
Our convoy had made good time from the duchy, no major interruptions, though I'd caught Clara glancing at the tree lines more often than usual.
Everard was already down from his horse, dressed in his more formal travel cloak, the gold embroidery on his collar glinting like fire every time it caught the sun.
He stood facing the fork in the road with his back straight, gaze resting on the far horizon like it might blink first.
I walked up beside him, pulling my gloves tighter.
"This is where we part, Father." I said bowing respectfully.
He turned his head slightly, his silver hair catching the morning light, eyes narrowing as he studied me, like he was etching my face into his memory just in case. "Yes."
I waited, half-expecting a lecture. A 'don't mess this up' or a 'remember who you represent.' Something sharp, dignified, stern.
Instead, he reached out and placed a firm hand on my shoulder.
"You've grown."
Wow. I blinked. Was that… affection? Real, actual affection from the battle-sculpted ice wall known as Duke Everard?
Before I could say anything, he continued, "Hold your ground. Don't chase after their movements. Let them come to you, and punish them for it."
There it was. The military instruction. I exhaled through my nose, smiling faintly. "That sounds less like politics and more like war, father."
"Politics, combat, and chess all demand patience."
He allowed a rare, fleeting twitch of a smile.
Then his hand lifted from my shoulder, and he turned toward his horse. "I'll meet with His Majesty within three days. If the emperor listens, things will move fast. If he doesn't…"
He didn't finish. He didn't have to.
If the emperor refused to act against the Ashen and showed disinterest in the falcon's new trade policy, then Falcon Duchy might be forced to make the first move.
I bowed deeply. "May your audience bring change."
Everard paused, then nodded once. "Stay alive, Hugo. If anything happens," he added, "fall back. You're no good to anyone dead."
That was… a lot, coming from him.
"And here I thought you'd finally say something warm."
"I just did." He replied like I achieved something. I sighed inwardly.
"I plan to. I've got Clara to yell at me when I do something dumb."
"And that seems often," Clara muttered behind me, ever helpful.
I didn't look back, but I raised an eyebrow.
With a sharp whistle, Everard swung up onto his horse, joined by his own guards. His unit would take the eastern road. Clean, paved, and well-guarded all the way to the capital.
My path? The charmingly less-predictable southern trail toward the border. Less stone, more mud. Less gossip, more blades.
As his entourage began to move, I watched him ride ahead, that massive black cloak flowing behind him like a wing of authority. And for the first time, I felt… something twist in my chest.
It wasn't fear, exactly. But there was weight in knowing that from here on, I'd be walking a path where no one could shield me.
"Let's go," I said, turning back toward our carriages. "The border won't walk to us."
Clara fell in beside me, adjusting her sword belt.
I glanced once more toward the fading shadow of Everard's figure.
I am not sure when I will meet him again, probably after a year or two.
Time to play my part.