“Thank you!”

The knights’ vigorous shouts echoed through the training grounds. At the forefront, commanding the training, Ruben raised a hand in acknowledgment.

Exhausted and drenched in sweat, even removing his training uniform felt burdensome. After a quick shower, Ruben changed into his everyday attire.

“I’ll head out first.”

“Oh, sure. Take care,” replied Ikael absentmindedly, his face buried in paperwork in the commander’s office.

Typically, Ikael would have made snarky remarks like, “Who are you rushing home for?” or “Ever since you got engaged, you’ve changed.” However, lately, Ikael has been unusually quiet. The change felt unfamiliar but not unwelcome. If something were amiss, Ikael would have brought it up without prompting. Ruben left the office with peace of mind.

On this midsummer day, the sun was blazing, but the humidity was low, making it pleasant. Ruben leisurely guided his horse, savoring the rare moment of tranquility.

He had been tense whenever he was at the estate recently, and his body often felt stiff. He knew the reason—Helia. Her presence nearby was constantly on his mind, even though she wasn’t visibly around. Helia had a peculiar talent for putting people on edge, even when unseen. Ruben pressed his fingers against his temples.

The last time he had seen her was at the tea party at Marquis Hewells’ estate weeks ago. Since then, fate had spared him from any further encounters.

He found that oddly surprising. Ruben reflected on the past. Strangely enough, she had never visited him unless summoned. While she had called him to her estate on occasion, Helia had only come to the Sky Estate during the evening banquet on the day she arrived at the duke’s mansion.

He felt uneasy. Helia was not the type to simply wait passively. So, what could she be planning? Was she scheming something?

Lost in thought, Ruben failed to realize that, even as he leisurely rode his horse under the warm sunlight, his mind was entirely consumed by thoughts of Helia.

“You’ve arrived, my lord.”

Upon reaching the mansion, Will greeted him courteously, as always. Ruben nodded and handed the reins to a servant. It was a short walk from the entrance to his study on the first floor.

“Any news?”

“None, Your Grace,” Will replied, taking Ruben’s jacket. Ruben, unbuttoning his shirt to relieve discomfort, suddenly looked at Will.

Will felt puzzled. ‘Why is he staring at me? Did I get crumbs on my face from lunch?’

Feeling self-conscious, Will wiped his lips, but nothing came off. Unable to withstand the duke’s gaze any longer, he asked, “Do you need something, my lord?”

“…”

“Your Grace?”

“No, never mind,” Ruben said, finally averting his gaze.

Will sighed in relief. Though he had served Ruben since childhood, the duke’s intense stare could still make him feel uneasy, as if he had done something wrong. And perhaps, in failing to fully understand his master’s intent, he had.

Meanwhile, Ruben internally scoffed at himself. ‘Ridiculous.’

‘Was I about to ask how she’s doing?’

And what then? He had left her unattended and intended to keep it that way. Such sudden bursts of curiosity were unwelcome. Ruben reprimanded himself.

‘Do not be curious. You cannot afford to be.’

Shaking off his thoughts, Ruben spoke, his voice inadvertently stern.

“How many cities in the domain have requested support so far?”

“Fifteen, Your Grace,” Will promptly replied. Ruben glanced at the list on his desk. These were cities within the Effenberg territory that had requested aid. Some genuinely needed help, while others preemptively requested support to hedge against a potentially poor harvest. Ruben quickly reviewed the list and organized it by priority. It was a longstanding tradition of the Effenberg territory to receive support requests from various cities near the end of summer, just before the harvest season.

The Effenberg territory was a large city, abundant in resources and advanced in agriculture, capable of self-sufficiency and even exporting surplus. Positioned on the route to the capital, Veil, with well-maintained roads, it served as a transit hub for merchants from the western cities. Guilds formed, and farmers could make a decent living by simply fulfilling their duties. Fertile soil consistently produced ample supplies, and the smooth roads facilitated distribution. Ruben aided struggling cities every year, continuing a support initiative passed down through generations. The cities expressed their gratitude by sending their local specialties in return. This practice fostered a stronger bond between Effenberg and other towns, even more so than with the capital itself.

After skimming through the documents from the territory, Ruben gave the order to Will.

“Bring Enoch here.”

Will nodded and left the room. Alone, Ruben ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it in frustration. Even with his shirt carelessly unbuttoned, he felt suffocated.

“Your Grace.”

A knock sounded at the door. Ruben slowly turned his gaze toward it and spoke.

“Come in.”

Enoch entered, carrying a stack of documents. He placed them on the desk as Ruben asked,

“Did you finish what I asked?”

“Yes, I’ve just completed the final report.”

Ruben traced his fingertips over the documents. Even without reading them, he knew what they contained—evidence of Marquis Hewells’ corruption and illegal dealings. It was a task Ruben had assigned.

“You’ve gathered solid evidence, I trust?”

“Of course. The Marquis won’t be able to deny it.”

Despite lacking a noble title, Enoch spoke of the Marquis with disdain, even scoffing. Ruben overlooked this impertinence, as Hiwels was little more than a parasitic leech on the kingdom.

Ruben skimmed through the materials. Though they lacked comprehensive information about the Marquis’s backers, the evidence was sufficient to ruin him. By the following week, the Marquis’s crimes would be widely known. The royal family, which had quietly overlooked his misconduct, would undoubtedly face a blow to their authority.

“Handle it as planned.”

“Understood.”

Enoch replied, taking the documents from Ruben with a composed demeanor. Ruben’s indifferent glance didn’t dampen Enoch’s spirits. He was pleased that Ruben had thoroughly reviewed the materials. That was the kind of man Ruben was—detached in manner, yet always meticulous. His unassuming actions had a way of saving others. Enoch could never forget that he was one of those people.

It had been on a similarly sunny day. Shortly after completing his coming-of-age ceremony, Ruben witnessed a commotion during a carriage ride. He had the coachman stop and approach a gathering crowd. There, he found the bodies of a middle-aged man and woman, lifeless and in a pitiful state. The murmurs of the onlookers pierced his ears.

“They must have slipped and blocked the royal carriage’s path.”

“Even so, to leave the bodies like that…”

“Who wouldn’t be terrified to live under such conditions?”

The dreadful tales didn’t cease. It was typical of the Bailey royal family’s cold disregard for commoners. As Ruben’s sharp green eyes scanned the scene, they landed on a gaunt boy standing nearby, his hollow eyes fixed on the corpses. Despite his expressionless face, Ruben instantly recognized the boy as the son of the deceased. To Ruben, the boy’s hollow stare seemed less like apathy and more like a desperate attempt to cope with a crushing reality. He reminded Ruben of someone.

Without realizing it, Ruben extended his hand. The boy simply stared at it.

“Will you come with me?”

For a noble to address him directly was unheard of. Yet, after a brief hesitation, the boy grabbed Ruben’s hand, not out of hope or expectation but sheer resignation. And so, Ruben brought Enoch to his estate.

Once it became clear that Enoch possessed some intelligence, he was assigned administrative tasks. He managed these tasks reasonably well. However, his real strength lay in handling the administrative affairs of the revolutionary army.

“The monarch is foolish, and his kin are cruel because they don’t treat people as human beings. We must correct this before more people die due to their whims.”

Naturally, Enoch despised the royal family. He made treasonous remarks without a second thought, which could have led to immediate execution for lese-majesty. Yet Ruben never punished him, as he had no intention of faulting Enoch. In fact, Ruben agreed with him. Fueled by his anger toward the royals, Enoch grew into an indispensable figure within the revolutionary army.

‘If His Grace hadn’t picked me up back then…’

Enoch often pondered this. Where would he be now if Ruben hadn’t extended a hand to him? He could easily imagine himself dying as a powerless sacrifice, cursing the royals to his last breath. The outcome was all too predictable.

Enoch considered Ruben a true king in every sense. Although Ruben always dismissed such claims, Enoch believed no one else was as ideally suited for the throne. Therefore, Enoch was proud to pledge his loyalty to him. To Enoch, Ruben Effenberg was always composed, stoic, and someone who could bear the weight placed on his shoulders. However, Ruben only deviated from this demeanor when dealing with Helia Bailey.

As his thoughts drifted to Helia, Enoch scowled. Around her, his usually stoic lord became unusually emotional and tense. The steadfast and rational Ruben he admired seemed to vanish. Even worse, Ruben seemed unaware of this transformation. Enoch found this profoundly unsettling. He resented Helia for being the one person who could unravel his otherwise flawless master. ‘Nothing good ever comes from associating with royalty,’ he thought bitterly.

“Your Grace.”