Chapter 60

While Agnes and Gavelin were occupied managing the household affairs, Dylan headed to the training grounds to personally inspect his knights, whom he had been unable to oversee for quite some time.

The knights who had accompanied him to the capital were now mixed with those who had remained in the Vasteron territory, and the atmosphere on the training grounds was more chaotic than usual.

Dylan wore light training clothes instead of formal attire, his sharp eyes scanning over the knights in silence.

A few of them had started off lazily, but under Dylan’s strict supervision, their posture straightened and their swings grew stronger and more focused.

Once, they had been the prince’s personal knights. Their numbers had dwindled since becoming the Vasteron Order, yet their loyalty to Dylan had never wavered.

If anything, their bond had grown even stronger, and now they steadied themselves with a single glance from him.

Dylan stood with a sword at his side, quietly observing his men.

The honor of the Vasteron Knights had not been broken, but deep down, he carried a small sense of guilt toward them.

If he had not fallen from grace, they might have become imperial knights under the Emperor’s command. At the very least, they would not have been sent north as if cast aside.

Dylan’s blue eyes darkened with that thought.

Then a voice broke through the rhythmic clash of steel.

“Young master! Oh no, you shouldn’t go in there!”

It was the bright, high-pitched voice of a maid, completely out of place among the deep, stern shouts of trained men.

The knights continued their drills, though their gazes flicked toward the commotion.

Lizzie, looking flustered, was tiptoeing onto the training grounds, while a small boy walked briskly ahead of her, heading straight toward Dylan.

“Oh heavens! Young master, wait! Oh, what do I do…”

Lizzie realized Noah’s destination at once and began to run, but she was too late.

Before she could reach him, Noah stumbled forward, unable to stop himself, and nearly crashed into Dylan’s knee. Dylan reacted instinctively and caught the boy in his arms.

“Wow!”

Noah’s eyes sparkled as he let out a delighted exclamation, clearly impressed by how effortlessly he had been lifted.

“Your Grace is strong.”

Dylan let out a soft, incredulous laugh.

He remembered watching Agnes struggle to lift Noah several times, her arms trembling from the effort. The boy must have assumed he was heavy because his mother found it difficult.

The comparison between Agnes’s slender arms and his own strength struck Dylan as oddly amusing and endearing.

“You’re speaking much more clearly now.”

“Yes. Noah speaks well. Always does.”

“I see.”

According to the physician’s report, Noah was supposed to need more time before regaining his speech, yet he had progressed much faster than expected.

That meant the boy had stabilized emotionally, and it proved that Agnes’s decision had been right.

Dylan looked at Noah’s round cheeks, puffed up like freshly baked bread, and then noticed that several knights had stopped mid-swing, staring at him.

He cleared his throat and gently set Noah back on the ground.

“You shouldn’t come in here. The maid must have told you that.”

He spoke sternly, but Noah simply looked up at him with wide eyes. Dylan towered above him, far too tall for them to hold a normal conversation.

“Sir, the boy might fall backward,” Pavel said with a barely restrained chuckle.

Dylan sighed and picked Noah up again. It felt embarrassingly awkward, but letting him fall and hurt himself would have been far worse.

If Noah got injured, Agnes would be worried, and truthfully, Dylan didn’t want that either.

He steadied Noah on his arm. The small body was warm, and the boy clung to Dylan’s neck with a happy laugh. The heat seeping through was strangely disarming.

“I told you not to come in here. Didn’t you hear me?”

“I did.”

“Then you should leave.”

“Yes.”

Noah pouted but didn’t argue.

Dylan clicked his tongue softly and decided not to set him down just yet.

“I’ll step out for a moment. Continue training. Bram, take command.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Pavel, come with me. The maid can’t handle him alone now that he’s gotten more active.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Pavel sheathed his sword and hurried to follow.

With Noah still in his arms, Dylan left the training grounds.

The heat of the drills faded behind them, replaced by the crisp, cool air of Vasteron.

He placed Noah on a bench outside and sat beside him. Now that they were seated, he didn’t have to worry about the boy toppling over.

“Where is your mother? Why are you wandering around alone?”

“Mom is busy.”

Noah waved his small hands to show there was a lot to do. Dylan could already guess. After a short rest from the journey, Agnes had probably gone straight to her study to oversee household matters.

The boy, however, quickly brightened again.

“Tomorrow, Mom promised to play with Noah.”

“I see.”

Dylan gave a short reply, but Noah continued to stare up at him, unblinking. Dylan had no idea what to say and simply met his gaze in silence.

At that moment, Pavel stepped closer, smiling kindly.

“Young master, you seem to like my lord, don’t you?”

“My lord?”

Noah tilted his head in confusion, and Lizzie explained,

“That’s what Sir Pavel calls His Grace.”

“Oh, right. I used a word you wouldn’t know,” Pavel said, smiling. “Do you like His Grace?”

Noah tilted his head again instead of answering.

Lizzie and Pavel exchanged puzzled looks.

Noah was a shy child who only opened up to Agnes and, at times, to Lizzie.

Everyone at the townhouse and the mansion had been kind to him, yet he always kept a timid distance.

But with Dylan, it was different.

He didn’t seem afraid of him at all. He often stared at him with curiosity, approached him without hesitation, and lingered nearby.

So when Pavel asked if he liked His Grace, both adults expected Noah to nod cheerfully and say yes.

Instead, Noah remained silent, simply gazing at Dylan. His bright emerald eyes, innocent yet persistent, were so fixed on him that Dylan, though at first unsettled, had grown accustomed to it. He met the boy’s gaze calmly.

“If you’re curious about something, you can ask.”

His tone was still firm, but there was a touch of gentleness in it.

Pavel found this side of his lord almost strange.

It wasn’t the polished courtesy he used with noble ladies, nor the cold, commanding presence he showed his knights.

Dylan genuinely seemed unsure how to deal with the child.

Noah swung his legs and pointed toward Dylan.

“Pretty.”

Both Pavel and Lizzie stifled their laughter.

Calling a man like the Duke “pretty” while pointing at him was amusing in itself, but it was also shocking given who Dylan was.

Dylan, too, looked startled, though not for the same reason as the others.

This time, the child wasn’t simply gesturing vaguely. His small finger was aimed directly at Dylan’s chest.

Before, he had worn a brooch there, and Dylan had assumed Noah was fascinated by shiny ornaments.

But now he was dressed plainly in training clothes, with nothing decorative at all.

On the surface, there was nothing for the boy to be pointing at.

“Why do you think it’s pretty?”

The boy looked puzzled, as if he expected Dylan to already know the answer.

Dylan studied him for a moment, then turned to his attendants.

“Step back for a while. I’ll speak with him alone.”

Both Pavel and Lizzie knew Dylan meant no harm and that he was protective of Noah, so they quietly withdrew.

“What do you see?”

Dylan placed his hand over his chest and asked in a low voice.