From a Broken Engagement to the Northern Grand Duke's Son-in-Law

I stared at the noble brat with the sort of expression reserved for watching someone juggle flaming torches while riding a unicycle.

The audacity of treating a Grand Master like some common tavern drunk was impressive in its sheer stupidity.

Such behavior would be inexcusable toward even an Expert-level knight, but directing it at Enoxia? Her?

That was tantamount to requesting execution with a ceremonial bow.

Sure enough, Enoxia paused mid-stride, turning her head with deliberate slowness.

“What did you say?”

Her smile was the kind that made sensible people review their life insurance policies.

The brat, apparently interpreting this as encouragement—which spoke volumes about his survival instincts—grinned back like a fool.

“Haha! If you capture him for sure, I can offer you two million gold!”

“Is that right?”

“Right! So how about you go right now and catch that bas—gurk!”

The brat’s cheerful babbling died as he clutched his chest, his face turning the color of week-old porridge.

Crushing Presence.

It wasn’t coming from just anybody—the full weight of a Grand Master’s Aura descended upon the poor fool.

The brat gasped and trembled like a leaf in a hurricane while his knights scrambled to position themselves between him and Enoxia.

Noble of them, really. Futile, but noble.

“Lady Enoxia! Please, we beg you to restrain your anger!”

One of the knights—presumably their captain—shouted with the desperation of someone negotiating with an avalanche.

“And what exactly are you lot supposed to be?”

Enoxia expanded her Crushing Presence like a stretching cat, encompassing the knights in its crushing embrace.

The oppressive force slammed into them, freezing their movements as effectively as concrete boots.

Speech would be a challenge now, let alone anything more ambitious.

Yet one knight managed to shuffle forward, his mouth opening with tremendous effort.

“Please... we implore your... mercy...!”

Remarkable. Moving under Enoxia’s Crushing Presence suggested he was a Master-level warrior himself.

But of course, Master-level or not, he remained a child compared to Enoxia.

She twisted her lips into something that might charitably be called a smile and increased the intensity another notch.

Thud—!

The knight’s knees buckled, blood trickling from his lips. The pain must have been excruciating, yet he never stopped pleading.

“Ngh, forgiveness... we beg...!”

Enoxia observed his suffering with detached interest. “The House of Marquis Belferia, was it?”

“Nnggh... yes... milady.”

“Go tell them this: the discourtesy your son displayed will be repaid in full when I come calling.”

Whoosh—

With that cheerful promise, Enoxia resumed walking as if nothing had occurred.

The knights finally managed to draw breath, freed from the crushing weight of her presence.

Their young lord, meanwhile, had fainted—probably the most sensible thing he’d done all day.

I snorted at the unconscious brat and followed Enoxia, ignoring the hostile stares boring into my back.

* * *

Despite the minor theatrical interlude, we reached our destination: Martel’s tavern.

“...Who might this be?” Martel emerged and examined our group, his question directed at Enoxia.

“Your customer, honey.”

“...I’m not your ‘honey’.”

“Don’t mind the little things. Ah, come take a seat, dear. You too, boy.”

Enoxia gestured us both toward a table with casual authority.

“...Hah.” Martel sighed—the weary sound of a man long accustomed to her particular brand of presumption—and approached slowly.

As Martel settled into his chair with a thud, Enoxia shot me a meaningful look that clearly said ‘sit down.’

“Wait here.” I instructed my men, then took the seat across from Martel.

Screech.

Enoxia dragged a wooden chair from a nearby table, positioning it at our table’s edge before settling down with all the grace of a sack of grain.

“First, there’s something I need to show you, honey.”

“...Something to show me?”

“Mhm. Look at this.”

Thunk.

She produced a pendant and slid it across to Martel, who picked it up with the bewildered expression of someone handed a live fish.

“What is this now?”

“It’s a recording crystal. Your granddaughter’s death is captured inside.” Enoxia’s tone was deliberately casual, probably hoping to soften the blow.

A thoughtful gesture, though perhaps as effective as cushioning a fall from a cliff with a pillow.

Martel’s pupils dilated as he stared at her.

“...Did you just say my granddaughter’s death?”

“Mhm.”

“...Haha, you must have heard some terrible joke somewhere. It’s not funny.”

He tried so hard to keep his voice level, but his body betrayed him. His hands trembled like autumn leaves, and his eyes lost all focus, darting about like trapped birds.

“It’s real. Your granddaughter appears to be dead.”

“...Ha, haha. Please stop. This is starting to upset me.”

Martel’s breathing grew ragged.

“Martel.” Enoxia called his name with the flat finality of a judge pronouncing sentence.

Something in her expression made Martel bite his lip and shake his head.

“...Even for you, Lady Enoxia, this joke has gone too far.”

“It’s not a joke.”

“...Please stop.”

“I’m telling you, it’s not a—”

“Then—!”

Martel’s carefully maintained composure finally cracked like a dam under flood pressure.

“Then... why are you showing me this! If this isn’t a joke, what am I supposed to live for now? What am I supposed to believe in, when I thought my granddaughter was alive somewhere out there!”

His anguish poured out in a torrent while Enoxia listened in silence, her face impassive as stone.

“...Hah, my granddaughter is alive. You must have been deceived by whoever gave you this.”

“Martel.”

“...No, I’m certain of it. I’ll handle this myself. I can deal with people like that on my own.”

“Martel!”

As Martel flailed in denial, Enoxia’s shout cut through his rambling like a blade—sharp and decisive, as if she couldn’t bear to watch him unravel any further.

Martel fell silent.

Then, slowly, he began to speak again.

“...Then what am I supposed to do?”

His agitated breathing gradually settled into a calm monotone, which dissolved into quiet sobbing.

Martel collapsed into his chair, tears streaming down his weathered face.

“I... what am I supposed to do... The child my daughter left behind, I’ve lost her. And now I can’t even hope she’s alive. What am I supposed to do?”

Tears traced paths down his wrinkled cheeks as his gnarled fingers reached tremblingly toward the pendant.

“You want me to watch this? How can I watch it? How can I confirm my child’s death with my own eyes?”

“...You still have to see it. It’s the only way you’ll survive.”

Enoxia’s voice was tight with suppressed emotion.

She was telling him the truth—that denial led only to a rope around his neck.

Accept reality, she was saying. Live for yourself now.

But Martel couldn’t accept that.

“...Survive, you say? No. I’m already dead. You can’t call someone who has no reason to live ‘alive.’”

Creak.

Martel rose unsteadily from his chair, clutching the pendant in his fist as he shuffled toward the kitchen.

“...Please leave. I’m closing early today.”

“...Alright.”

Enoxia sighed softly and stood, watching his retreating figure.

She turned to me with resignation in her eyes.

“Let’s go. He needs time.”

“...Right.”

I reluctantly rose as well. Time was precious, but there was nothing to be done about it.

I understood his pain all too well.

I left the tavern hoping he’d find his way back to himself, somehow.

* * *

Enoxia and I retreated to a nearby establishment. She ordered food for my men while placing a bottle of liquor in front of me.

“Do be understanding.”

She raised her own bottle—ah, so that’s why she’d brought two. Not to share, but for us to drink ourselves into oblivion separately.

When I didn’t immediately grab my bottle, Enoxia smirked and shook her head.

“Such a prude.”

“...I’m not particularly fond of drinking.”

“Bullshit. Word is you used to party like there was no tomorrow.”

Ah, right. I’d been a wastrel once upon a time.

Ancient history, really.

I cleared my throat awkwardly and poured myself a drink.

“So, will Master Martel be alright?”

“...Who knows.”

Enoxia took a long pull from her bottle, worry etched deep in her features. She sighed endlessly, clearly regretting leaving him alone.

“You should have stayed with him.”

“Hah... wait until you’re old. You’ll understand how important solitude can be.”

Gulp.

She drank deeply, making a satisfied sound.

“Don’t worry too much about it. He’ll dust himself off and get back up soon enough.”

“...Won’t it be dangerous to leave him alone until then?”

“Ah, that’s fine. I can sense everything he does from here. Sometimes I check in on him too.”

...That’s called stalking, woman.

I gave her a look that could have frozen hell itself.

Completely oblivious to my moral outrage, Enoxia continued drinking and changed the subject. “So, how did you get that recording crystal?”

“Killed a Goblin Lord in the Praha Duchy and found it.”

“Mm? Ah, right. You married into that family, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Whew... your mentor’s the Divine Archer, and your father-in-law’s a Grand Duke. Add me to the collection and you’d be a Grand Master completist.”

She giggled at her own joke, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

It was actually quite amusing, objectively speaking—the sort of connections that would make any knight weep with envy.

Wait. When did I mention my master?

As I tilted my head in confusion, Enoxia chuckled.

“Wondering how I knew? You absolutely reek of camellia blossoms. Hard to miss.”

She could smell that?

Aura resonance wasn’t something easily detected.

Sure, anyone could smell it when techniques were actively being used, but during idle moments? Even Aura Masters with sensitive noses couldn’t pick it up.

Only the monster sitting across from me could manage such a feat.

“Impressive.”

My genuine praise made her snort with laughter.

“Impressive? Didn’t you see me get rejected earlier?”

“Ah, true.”

“You little shit.”

Enoxia looked at me like I’d just insulted her mother, then shook her head with resignation.

“Whatever. Thanks for bringing it to him. That old fool’s been teetering on the edge lately. Probably would’ve broken completely if this had gone on much longer.”

“Is that why you spoke to him so harshly?”

“Yeah, he needed the shock. Running away won’t deliver him to the Goddess’s embrace.”

Running away won’t deliver him to the Goddess’s embrace…

She was right, of course.

Martel had probably spent every day believing his granddaughter was living happily somewhere, torturing himself with guilt for failing to protect the girl.

He would have died like that—purposeless, consumed by self-recrimination.

But thanks to the pendant I’d brought, he’d find his footing again. Revenge, at least, would give him reason to live.

That’s what Enoxia was telling me, in her roundabout way.

“It was the right thing to do,” I said.

“Bullshit. You don’t strike me as the altruistic type. You came here wanting something too, didn’t you?”

Fair point.

I nodded in agreement. “That’s right.”

She leaned forward with interest. “What is it? I’ll help if I can.”

I took a deep breath. Once I said this, there would be no going back.

But I opened my mouth anyway.

“...I intend to destroy House Artezia entirely.”