Chapter 1: The Assassination Order Against an Old Fiancé
The incident began when a scruffy young man, hiding in the training grounds, was dragged out by the knights, stumbling as they gripped him by the collar.
The training grounds of the Grand Duchy of Florida’s palace were strictly off-limits to outsiders. Those caught loitering were usually beaten and thrown out without ceremony.
But this damned beggar made a scene instead of leaving quietly, blurting out an absurd name that escalated the situation.
“I-I am the Count of Terra Petronia. I demand an audience with Grand Duchess Valentina.”
The moment the words left his lips, a stunned silence fell, quickly followed by raucous laughter from all directions.
“Ha! Did you hear that? He’s claiming to be the Count of Petronia!”
“Oh, your noble lordship, what brings such a distinguished personage here to demand an audience with Her Grace?”
Knights and squires who had been resting rushed over to surround the man, laughing loudly. Some jabbed at him with the hilts of their swords or the edges of their shields, mocking him.
A knight practicing archery in the distance shook his head and waved a hand dismissively. Judging by the ornate decoration on his helmet, he was likely the captain of the knights. His gesture seemed to say, ‘Stop slacking off and just deal with him quickly.’
But neither the knights nor the squires seemed inclined to let this insolent beggar off easily. A liar deserved at least to have his tongue ripped out, or perhaps a bone or two broken before being thrown out.
To make matters worse, the beggar, still held by the collar, stubbornly insisted,
“I am Ethelred, the Count of Petronia and son of the late Duke of Terra Nebulosa. I was on my way to seek training as a squire under Her Grace, but I suffered an accident in the Black Forest… Please, let me see her!”
Unfortunately, the self-proclaimed “Count and son of a Duke” looked nothing like a nobleman. Instead, he was the epitome of a starving vagrant.
Rather than a cloak embroidered with his family’s crest or fine garments, he wore a ragged tunic and a filthy mantle fit for a peasant. His black hair, hanging down to his shoulder blades, was matted with dirt and grease, resembling a bird’s nest. His gaunt face was that of a famished serf’s son, not a noble heir.
Naturally, there was no heraldic flag or armed escort in sight. His only companion was a scruffy gray puppy, resembling a dirty ball of fur.
“Woof, woof, ruff!”
The loyal creature barked at the armed knights as if to protect its master. But its courage was short-lived. A knight kicked it aside, sending it tumbling away with a yelp, whimpering weakly as if near death.
The young man cried out in fury,
“What are you doing? I have formally requested an audience with Grand Duchess Valentina!”
“My, my, aren’t you persistent?” one knight sneered.
“How dare you throw around Her Grace’s name? Do you think she’s your friend?”
Sir Ricardo, the chief steward, grabbed the man’s hair and yanked his head up, grinning mockingly.
“Well, well, oh noble Count. I suppose you’ve heard somewhere that Her Grace is the most beautiful woman on the continent? Were you skulking behind trees, sneaking a look? Do you know how many riffraff like you are dragged out of here each year with broken legs? A million, I tell you, a million!”
The man, his hair gripped tightly, squeezed his eyes shut and kept his mouth shut. Nearby, mercenary knights and squires stepped in, poking him with their spears and mocking him.
“You should’ve sold a more respectable name! Did you really think we’d mistake you for some backwater yokel from Terra Nebulosa or Petronia?”
The scruffy man twisted his lips and spat back.
“Fine, I won’t talk about backwater yokels anymore. Call your master instead.”
“Crazy fool!”
Before he could finish, Ricardo lashed out with his gloved hand, slapping the man’s cheek. Already staggering and barely able to walk, the man fell face-first into the dirt and struggled to rise.
Ricardo swung his spear down onto the fallen man. His dog tried to defend him, barking madly, but the knight kicked it aside, sending it tumbling. The dog whimpered weakly, its tiny body trembling as it died down.
The man, holding the dog tightly to him, lay motionless. The spear slammed into his back again and again—brutally, mercilessly. The screams they had anticipated did not come, only the anguished cries of the dog filled the air.
Thunk.
Suddenly, the knights’ laughter ceased. Above them, a long arrow quivered, its fletching trembling right above their heads. Another arrow pierced the air, followed by a third, striking in a neat row. The leaves rustled down around them.
“Damn it!” the knights muttered, hastily dropping to their knees, lowering their stances. Sir Ricardo paused, holding his spear tightly.
A group approached from the forest, and at their lead, a slender knight stepped forward. From beneath her cold, imposing helm, a clear, authoritative voice resonated.
“I told you to leave him alone and escort him out.”
The gathered crowd quickly bowed their heads and stepped back. The knight approached Ricardo and struck him hard across the face.
“This is a punishment for disobedience, Sir Ricardo.”
The knight turned to the gathered knights and squires, her voice icy as steel.
“You are supposed to be protectors of the weak, yet here you are, beating defenseless peasants senseless. Think carefully before you act next time. If your thinking falters, at least practice humility!”
Her reprimanding voice was sharp and cold. Sir Ricardo bowed deeply in apology, lowering his head.
“…I, we made a mistake. Please forgive us.”
The knight clicked her tongue disapprovingly, then knelt beside the fallen man. She removed her helmet, revealing a flawless, radiant face with shimmering, silver-blonde hair cascading over her shoulder, reflecting the midday sun.
The man flinched under the intense sunlight, furrowing his brow as if blinded. Suddenly, his face turned red, and he quickly turned his head away. His body stiffened again. Valentina gently helped him to his feet and spoke.
“Please forgive my men’s rudeness. Can you stand on your own?”
“…Let go of me. I can stand on my own.”
When Valentina let go, he took a shaky breath and barely managed to rise from his spot.
As the knights had said, his appearance was a mess. His hair, tangled like a bird’s nest, and the ragged, grimy cloak made it impossible to see anything but a wandering beggar. He pressed his lips together tightly, trying to smooth his hair and cloak, but the tattered state couldn’t be hidden.
The knights were barely able to contain their laughter, but they held back, knowing Valentina’s stern gaze was upon them.
Finally, he bowed deeply before the Lady of Reggio Florida, offering a respectful introduction.
“I, Edelred, son of Edwin, the late Duke of Terra Nebulosa and Petronia, humbly greet the noble Lady Valentina of Reggio Florida.”
