38.
The Duke sat at the head of the table in silence. Kylon took his seat beside him, leaving a corner of the table between them.
“Children, offer your greetings.”
“Nice to meet you, Your Grace. I am the eldest, Dia Adria.”
Dia held the hem of her dress and bowed with practiced grace.
“Hello. I am the third, Rubiana Adria.”
Rubiana, clutching her skirt, bowed her head, her voice thin and trembling.
“Hmph.”
Garnet folded her arms, snorted, and pointedly ignored the Duke.
Kylon’s brows twitched at her insolence, but because the Duke remained silent, he dared not intervene.
The Duke acknowledged the sisters’ greetings with a curt, barely perceptible nod. The sisters lingered, unsure if they were dismissed or permitted to sit.
“His Grace has received your greetings. Young ladies, please, make yourselves comfortable. Ah, I am the Duke’s secretary, Olive Lion. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
Standing beside the Duke, Olive bowed with a professional, practiced smile.
Dia took the lead, clutching her dress. “It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Dia Adria.”
“A pleasure indeed.”
Olive gestured toward the chairs with a warm, steady gaze, and Dia signaled for her sisters to follow suit. Once they were seated, servants placed bowls of mushroom soup on the table and retreated.
“Haha. I told the chef to pay special attention today since Your Grace is joining us. Even if you cannot enjoy the presentation, please, do enjoy the taste.”
Kylon’s jab at the blind Duke was transparent, but the Duke ignored him with chilling indifference. It was a dismissal more biting than any retort.
Kylon’s face curdled as he swallowed his frustration.
A heavy silence descended. Because the Duke had not yet taken a bite, the others watched him with bated breath.
Kylon, having spent the day searching for his youngest nephew, Perido, was ravenous. He cast a sour look at the Duke and decided to push his luck. Since the Duke’s eyes were sightless, he felt no need to conceal his glare.
“Your Grace. Please, begin your meal.”
“His Grace has no appetite today. You may begin eating.”
Olive, standing at the ready, ignored Kylon entirely and spoke to Dia.
Dia cast a sidelong glance at Kylon. He was staring at Olive with a look of murderous intent, but unable to curse openly, he merely gnashed his teeth and gestured coldly to his nieces.
“Let’s eat.”
Hungry, Rubiana dipped a piece of bread into her soup. Garnet followed suit, spooning the broth into her mouth with measured boredom.
Only Dia sat motionless.
“Sister? Why aren’t you eating?” Rubiana asked, her voice hushed with worry.
“I’m not very hungry.”
“You haven’t eaten all day. You must.”
Rubiana tore off a piece of bread and offered it to her. Unable to refuse, Dia took it. “Thank you, Ruby.”
Having regained his composure once the meal was underway, Kylon leaned back. He swirled his wine glass, turning his gaze toward the Duke.
“Your Grace. Since you have no appetite, might I suggest the wine? It’s a vintage from the best producing region in the South. The flavor is exquisite. Haha.”
“Olive, have the children eaten enough?”
The Duke’s voice, low and resonant, cut through the room. The diners froze, eyes snapping toward him.
“Yes. It appears they have eaten to some extent,” Olive replied, offering a calm report after a brief observation.
“Then, send them away.”
“Have the rest of the meal served in the young ladies’ rooms,” Olive directed, signaling a maid who stood against the wall like a statue.
“Yes, sir.”
The maid hurried out.
“Young ladies, please leave the room for a moment.”
The sisters exchanged bewildered glances. Dia’s heart hammered against her ribs. She couldn’t name it, but the air in the room had curdled the moment the Duke spoke.
Dia signaled to Garnet and Rubiana, then rose.
Seeing the situation derail, Kylon slammed his wine glass onto the table.
“What is the meaning of this? Why are you chasing my nieces out?”
Olive let out a long-suffering sigh and moved to block the sisters’ view.
At that moment, Gerald’s hand darted out. He snatched a knife from the table and let it fly with a flick of his wrist.
*Whizz.*
The blade grazed Kylon’s cheek and embedded itself deep into the wall, only the silver hilt vibrating in the air.
It happened so quickly that Kylon didn’t even realize he had been struck. It was only when a stinging, searing heat spread across his face that he touched his cheek with a trembling hand.
“W-what is this….”
Red—vibrant and fresh—stained his skin. Crimson droplets began to bead and run down his face.
“Eek!” A maid screamed and clapped a hand over her mouth.
Because Olive was shielding the sisters, they hadn’t seen the act itself.
“I missed,” the Duke said, his expression utterly nonchalant.
Kylon’s blue eyes swirled with terror. A “miss” from the man known as the empire’s greatest swordsman? If it was a miss, then what had he truly been aiming for? Kylon swallowed hard, his throat dry.
“Young ladies. Shall we go?”
Olive herded them toward the door. As they moved, Dia caught sight of Rubiana and Garnet clutching each other’s hands. She stopped.
“Garnet. Take care of Ruby.”
“Sister, come with us,” Rubiana pleaded, her eyes wide with fear.
“Garnet.”
“I got it. But you have to tell me everything.” Garnet gripped her sister’s hand, her jaw set.
“I will.”
Once the door closed behind them, Dia stayed rooted in place.
“It is not a sight fit for a young lady,” Olive murmured, his eyes filled with genuine concern.
Dia suppressed her racing heart and shook her head. She had a right to see this through.
“I will be an adult in a few months, too. Please, let me stay.”
“Hah. I’m going to be in trouble with His Grace for this.”
“I will take full responsibility.”
Kylon’s voice, now a shrill, frantic scream, erupted from the center of the room.
“Your Grace! What is the meaning of this? There is imperial law! You cannot harm a noble for no reason!”
He scrambled back, pressing a hand to his bleeding cheek, distancing himself from the Duke.
“…….”
“No matter how high your standing, I am a noble of this realm. If you draw blood, His Majesty the Emperor will not stand for it!”
“Olive.”
The Duke sat back, a thin, icy smile curling his lips.
“Yes.”
Olive approached Kylon, his expression sympathetic, and extended a white handkerchief. “You’re bleeding heavily. It’s dangerous. Please, use this to stop the flow.”
Kylon, already dizzy from the shock and blood loss, snatched the handkerchief and pressed it against his wound. His mind was a fractured mess. He had provoked the Duke, assuming the blindness made him a helpless target. He had never imagined the Duke would act with such flagrant, violent disregard for the law.
“You have accepted the handkerchief,” the Duke said, his voice languid.
“It is a duel.”
*Hic.*
Kylon’s breath hitched. He dropped the white handkerchief as if it had turned to fire. Only now, the finality of the ritual hit him. By accepting the handkerchief, he had consented to a duel—a private matter of honor where even the Emperor could not intervene.
“T-this is fraud! It’s invalid! There are witnesses!” Kylon’s eyes darted frantically around the room, landing on Dia. “Dia! You saw it, didn’t you? There was no challenge! This isn’t a duel!”
“I saw you accept the white handkerchief,” Dia replied, her voice steady. “And I heard His Grace declare a duel. It is a legitimate procedure.”