The dining hall was bustling as always, though the atmosphere was livelier than usual.

The return of Caleb, the commander of Cliff’s knights and the castle’s master, after his journey to find a bride was cause for celebration.

The knights, still covered in sweat and dirt from training, ate and drank with unusual excitement. Whole roasted pig, wine, bread, and fruit were served continuously, ensuring the revelry never waned.

Tonight’s most popular topic of conversation was, of course, the future Grand Duchess of Cliff.

For Caleb, who despised Hestian, to travel so far to bring her back was a matter of great intrigue.

“The commander looks unusually cheerful. He must really like his new bride.”

“I heard the fiancée changed. The future grand duchess, they say—she’s not a maiden!”

At Helman’s comment, the knight infamous for his loose tongue, jaws dropped in shock.

“What? Then she’s a widow?”

“Bowell, wasn’t it? A noble family from Hestian, right?”

“Not a maiden? Our commander, with a widow?”

Helman, buoyed by his comrades’ spirited reactions, began to eagerly share the tidbits he’d picked up from the maids in the kitchen.

“Word has it she’s the most beautiful woman in all of Hestian!”

“Oh-ho! Makes sense! Even though she’s not a maiden, to secure the position of the Grand Duchess of Cliff? That checks out!”

“They say she’s a sultry beauty who can melt a man with just one glance. But about our commander—do you think he’ll be okay tonight?”

“What do you mean, okay?”

“Well…you know. Our commander may look sharp, but what does that matter? The only things he’s been staring at for years are rough-looking men and monsters. He’s probably…uh, inexperienced. Do you think he can handle the remarried Grand Duchess…urk!”

Suddenly, Helman, who had been merrily running his mouth with his flushed face, found himself yanked by the collar.

“Urk! C-Commander! Hold on!”

Helman was one of the largest knights in the order, his body honed through years of battle. But there was only one man who could lift him off the ground with a single hand.

It was none other than Caleb, their commander, whose rumored strength included tearing monsters apart with his bare hands. A moment ago, he had been quietly sipping wine at another table. No one had noticed when he approached, his speed ghostly and precise.

Holding Helman by the collar and lifting him to eye level, Caleb flashed a sharp grin, his teeth white and intimidating.

“Got something to say, Sir Helman?”

“Urk…urk!”

“Why so quiet now? I get it, we’re a relaxed bunch, not much for rules or decorum. But surely, even in this merry chaos, a knight should answer his commander’s questions, no?”

“I…I’m sorry! Truly, I was wrong…!”

Helman gasped, his face pale and now turning blue. Satisfied with the apology, Caleb gently set him back onto his chair.

“…?”

Under normal circumstances, Caleb might have thrown him to the ground or at least kicked him a few times. The unusual leniency left Helman more anxious than relieved.

Thud, thud.

To everyone’s further surprise, Caleb dusted off Helman’s shoulders and even straightened his rumpled clothes. His uncharacteristic kindness put the entire table on edge.

“It’s been a year since I’ve been back. Enjoy yourselves while you can.”

“Y-yes, Commander!”

“Understood, Commander.”

Though his words were casual and even friendly, the knights knew better. Behind the seemingly kind tone lay a warning, sharp as a blade.

They had all witnessed Caleb’s temperament on the battlefield—his disdain for petty rules and ceremonies, but his ruthless discipline when anyone crossed the lines he’d drawn.

“However,” Caleb added, his voice suddenly heavy.

“…!”

“No gossip about my fiancée. She’s a woman I brought here at great effort and cost. Understood?”

“Y-yes, Commander! Understood!”

Helman stammered his agreement, and the suffocating tension in the room began to ease. Just as Helman let out a quiet sigh of relief, something heavy thudded onto the table in front of him.

Thunk!

It was a large oak barrel. Caleb, who had carried it with one hand, gestured towards it with a nod.

“It seems you’ve been feeling a bit frail, Sir Helman. Rambling nonsense and all. So I prepared this for you. Everyone, let’s agree to let Sir Helman have all of it—no objections, right?”

The knights, who had been previously chattering, now busied themselves with their plates and glasses, studiously avoiding Helman’s gaze. No one dared interject or come to his rescue.

“Traitors,” Helman thought bitterly, glaring at the enormous barrel.

It was filled with “Cliff’s Tears,” a legendary elixir passed down through the generations in Cliff.

Invented long ago by the village apothecary, it was said to cure everything from colds to stomachaches and, with prolonged use, boost physical strength. Every resident of Cliff knew of its miraculous properties.

But the problem was its taste.

Bitter, fishy, and utterly vile—so repulsive that many would rather endure illness than drink it. However, the knights had no such choice. Fighting monsters required exceptional stamina, and daily consumption of “Cliff’s Tears” was an unspoken rule of the order.

Even after years of taking it, the knights never became accustomed to the taste. First-timers often vomited or burst into tears, which was how the potion earned its name.

Caleb filled Helman’s cup with the foul liquid. No, he didn’t just fill it—he poured it to the brim.

Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle…

“Well, Sir Helman, go ahead.”

“Commander, I already had my daily dose this morning…”

Helman’s face turned ashen as he looked at the overflowing cup. Caleb didn’t so much as blink.

Meanwhile, the other knights secretly celebrated, relieved that they had been spared their own dose today.

“Why? Surely, you wouldn’t refuse this special treatment? Think of your comrades’ generosity in offering their share. Drink it all, and enjoy yourself.”

“…”

Helman grimaced as he stared at the thick, pitch-black liquid before him.

The bowl Caleb had practically dumped the potion into was typically used for washing hands before meals. The problem was that the bowl was large enough to double as a washbasin.

Caleb, arms crossed, watched him with a crooked smirk.

‘Damn it, I’m in trouble now.’

Helman sighed softly, noticing the glint of mischief in Caleb’s dark eyes.

‘I shouldn’t have spoken about his future duchess. I’ve gone and poked a hornet’s nest.’

But there was no undoing what had already been done.

‘Whatever. Might as well drink it and die.’

Steeling himself, Helman took a deep breath and brought the bowl, brimming with the ominous liquid, to his lips.

That was when a voice rang out.

“Lady Astrid Bowell is entering!”

The steward’s announcement echoed through the hall as the doors opened. The subject of the knights’ endless curiosity—the star of tonight’s banquet and soon-to-be Grand Duchess of Cliff—entered the hall.

***

Before entering the banquet hall, Astrid was overcome with nervousness.

Matilda’s worried face and repeated warnings lingered in her mind.

“My Lady, the knights will be attending this banquet. Lord Caleb is an unpretentious man—when he’s staying at the castle, he trains, eats, and sleeps alongside the knights. It seems he wants to personally introduce you to them.”

“…Oh.”

“Some of them may be rude. Please forgive them. If it becomes too overwhelming, discreetly let me know. I’ll tell Lord Caleb you’re unwell and arrange for you to dine separately…”

A sudden introduction like this was daunting.

Astrid let out a barely audible sigh, her lips trembling slightly.

“…Haah.”

‘I can do this. It’s just the corset—it’s been so long since I wore one, and it’s uncomfortable. That’s why I’m short of breath, she reassured herself.’

‘Astrid Bowell, pull yourself together.’

She was a complete outsider here. But fear couldn’t hold her back; that wasn’t her way.

Even Matilda and Edith, who flanked her, were strangers she had just met today.

According to Cradoc, Caleb treated his knights like family.

“Lord Caleb practically grew up in the training grounds. From the moment he could walk, he was by the Grand Duke’s side, playing, rolling in the dust, and wielding a sword. The knights are like brothers to him, rough around the edges though they may be.”

Astrid hadn’t expected to face the knights so soon. A foreign woman with nothing but the name “Bowell” to her credit, she had no wealth or status to support her. By the standards of Cliff, she was woefully unqualified to be the Grand Duchess.

Even if she wasn’t welcomed, she was the only one who could navigate this situation.

‘No one’s going to help me.’

If she didn’t summon the courage to take that first step, she knew she wouldn’t survive in this land. Caleb had pulled her out of the darkness, but walking into the light was her responsibility alone.

Astrid strengthened her resolve, bracing her shaky legs. Planting her feet firmly on the ground, she walked forward. It was all she could do for now.

Matilda’s worried gaze followed her stiff expression.

“…My Lady?”

“I’m fine, Madam. Let’s go.”

Her voice, though tense, was sharp and steady, like a blade honed to precision.

When the steward’s voice boomed, announcing “Lady Astrid Bowell,” the raucous banquet hall fell silent in an instant.

Click, click.

The only sound was the steady clatter of Astrid’s heels on the marble floor.

The silence lingered, suffocating, until she reached her seat beside Caleb.

“Welcome, my lady,” Caleb said with a smile.

The instant his words broke the stillness, the room erupted.

Whistle!

The knights banged on the tables, stomped their feet, and laughed uproariously.

“Our Grand Duchess-to-be is a real beauty!”

“I heard she’s remarried, but she looks so young!”

“Look at that golden hair! Doesn’t it shine like strands of pure gold?”

As expected, the knights lived up to their reputation.

While she hadn’t anticipated perfect decorum, the complete lack of refinement made Matilda sigh inwardly.

‘What a bunch of rascals. The lady must be so overwhelmed…’

Astrid, stiff as a board, remained frozen in place. She seemed to have forgotten to sit, standing there rigidly amidst the clamor.

She had traveled a long way and must have been exhausted. To be unable to even enjoy a proper meal in peace was disheartening.

Matilda worried that if this continued, Astrid might fall ill.

‘I’ll have to arrange for her to dine separately.’

Matilda was just about to whisper this to Caleb when—

“Welcome to Cliff, my lady.”

Whistle!

A knight stood up and gave an exaggerated bow, prompting the hall to erupt once more with cheers, whistles, and clamor.

“They’re rowdy and noisy, but not bad people… you understand, right?”

As Caleb motioned for Astrid to take the seat beside him, she suddenly turned and spoke.

“Excuse me, Lord Caleb.”

With a slight curtsy to him, Astrid turned on her heel and began to walk away.

“…Astrid?”