Chapter 46

In the carriage of the subjugation squad sat a strawberry cake he had bought for Melissa. Demius planned to return before the cream on top began to melt.

“Hyah!”

The whip cracked, and the horse surged forward. Demius sped down the grand road, his shadow stretching long behind him like the reaper itself.

* * *

“There you are.”

At the sound of a low voice, the members of House Arke, who had stopped their carriage to rest, turned all at once.

They squinted at the approaching rider, then their eyes widened in recognition.

“Oh, Demius!”

“You came all this way out of concern for us?”

“As expected of you, truly a filial son! Only you would do such a thing!”

“You remember us, don’t you? You were this small back then, and we…”

As they surrounded him, chirping like pigeons around a handful of feed, Demius said nothing. He only curled his lips faintly.

House Arke.

If he recalled correctly, they were a viscount family from the far southwest, one of the outermost regions of the Grand Duchy.

His own investigation had revealed that the family had fallen into ruin generations ago due to excessive indulgence and waste.

I heard they barely managed to survive afterward.

Their appearance now was better than expected, which made Demius narrow his eyes slightly before speaking.

“What happened earlier?”

He was surprisingly calm.

If Natalianne, that foolish girl, had started the fight, he could perhaps overlook some of it.

Then the lady in the hat hastily interjected.

“That couldn’t have been true, right?”

“What do you mean?”

Demius’s question made the man beside her speak up quickly.

“That insolent girl! The one who dared claim to be your wife, that little orange-haired…”

Slick.

In an instant, strands of the man’s bangs were severed cleanly and fluttered to the ground.

When did he even draw his sword?

The man froze pale with terror.

Demius’s lips parted slowly.

“She is my wife.”

“W-what?”

The noblewoman gasped without meaning to.

“Impossible! You already…”

Shhk.

Her words cut off as her eyes met Demius’s.

She felt it immediately.

Death.

The chilling fear of being killed silenced her completely.

Demius spoke in a low voice.

“I will make this clear. If you insult my wife…”

Crackle.

A faint, blue aura of energy shimmered along his blade.

Demius’s cold tone struck like frost.

“There will be no forgiveness.”

“…”

The nobles could only stare, unable to open their mouths. Finally, one of them stammered weakly.

“H-how dare you speak to us like…”

“And another thing.”

Demius’s calm but sharp voice cut through his words.

“Apologize to my wife.”

A man shouted furiously, unable to bear it.

“I will not! How could nobles like us bow to such a lowborn…”

Flash.

Demius’s sword stopped right before the man’s face.

The noblewoman beside him gasped and clamped a hand over her mouth, barely stifling a scream.

Even she, who hadn’t met Demius’s gaze directly, could feel the suffocating pressure of his killing intent.

His expression was now devoid of emotion, carved from cold marble.

“You care deeply about rank and hierarchy, it seems. In that case…”

His lips moved, his voice calm as ice.

“Kneel.”

“D-Demius…”

“A mere viscount dares challenge the authority of the Grand Duke’s house?”

“…”

Every trace of color drained from their faces.

They had trapped themselves with their own arrogance.

As they exchanged nervous glances, the lady in the hat forced a trembling smile and spoke as gently as she could.

“Demius, please, we were wrong…”

Sshk.

Her hat split neatly in two.

The hair pinned beneath spilled over her pale face in disarray.

The sword had stopped precisely at the crown of her head, never cutting deeper.

Demius’s voice was calm.

“My name has no place in your mouth.”

Only then did the people of House Arke realize the full gravity of the situation.

This was not something they could smooth over with polite words.

Panic-stricken, they fell to their knees.

“W-we beg your forgiveness!”

“Please have mercy!”

Demius looked down coldly at their bowed heads.

“You have something to write with, don’t you?”

“Y-yes!”

“Write a letter of apology.”

Damn it.

The noblewoman bit her lip hard but had no choice. She gestured to the servants, who quickly fetched paper, ink, and a pen.

The eldest son, trembling, used a servant’s back as a desk and began to write.

To Lady Melissa von Eisenhart

Damn it all.

His hands shook with fear or perhaps rage, but he didn’t dare stop.

Demius’s piercing gaze hovered over his head like a blade.

“…Here. It’s done.”

When the man finally finished, he carefully handed the paper to Demius.

Demius glanced over it with cold eyes, rolled it up, and tucked it into his coat.

“There won’t be a second chance.”

“Y-yes, of course.”

The nobles bowed deeply.

Demius ignored them, turned, and mounted his horse.

Now I understand why Mother called them worthless fools.

Expressionless, he spurred the horse forward and galloped away.

The nobles remained frozen in place, unable even to lift their heads as he vanished.

Minutes passed before one of them finally muttered,

“Damn him.”

The man stood, brushing the dirt off his knees, and spat on the ground.

“Curse that Eisenhart brat. Like mother, like son.”

“Quiet!”

The noblewoman hissed urgently.

“We’re still inside the Grand Duchy!”

“Tch.”

He cursed under his breath but quickly scanned his surroundings.

Commoners nearby were glancing their way, whispering among themselves after the commotion.

He clenched his teeth.

But she was right. This place was still dangerous.

“Let’s get back in the carriage.”

At her signal, they stood, brushed off their clothes, and climbed aboard.

“Damn it.”

The moment the carriage began to move, curses erupted one after another.

“I told you we shouldn’t have come here!”

“Oh, really? Who was it that said since the first son went missing and the second disappeared too, we might have a chance to grab a share?”

“Who fed us false information? When did Demius even come back?”

“I bought that intel from the information guild. Those bastards sold us lies.”

“…”

Silence fell for a moment.

House Arke.

They were originally the family of Isilan, the former husband of Grand Duchess Seres, but after being cast out, they hadn’t dared approach since.

Then both the first son, Asellion, and the second, Demius, had gone missing.

A single thought took root in their minds.

Who inherits now?

If there was no direct heir, perhaps the successor could come from a collateral line.

Someone like House Arke.

Of course, the third child, Natalianne, was still alive, but she seemed to avoid any connection to her main family. Having become a professor at the Tower, she likely intended to stay there permanently.

So the viscount family had thought, perhaps it was time.

As Isilan’s blood relatives, House Arke might have the right to produce an heir.

By imperial succession law, they were far down the line, but it was worth the gamble.

To rise from a minor border viscounty to ruling the empire’s largest territory.

Even if it was a fool’s dream, it was one worth dreaming at least once.