The End of Your Arrogance - Chapter 88

As the walls loomed closer, Ilya slowed his pace. The guards on duty, startled by the unexpected appearance of the Grand Duke, hurriedly rushed out.

“Your Grace!”

With the guards leading the way, Ilya ascended the wall. Standing by the battlements, he had a clear view of the outside. He peered out and saw a man on horseback, cloaked in dark robes, seemingly waiting for the gates to open.

Sensing the gaze upon him, the man lifted his head. Recognizing Ilya, he lowered the hood of his robe, revealing silver hair that glimmered even in the dim dawn light.

“To be greeted personally by Your Grace, I am honored beyond words,” the man called out in a playful voice, bowing his head. Ilya frowned at the sight.

“Come up here, we need to talk.”

As soon as Ilya spoke, the gates opened. Watching Nikolas ride into the fortress, Ilya closed his eyes briefly, a headache beginning to throb at the sight of that familiar face.

Not long after, Nikolas climbed the wall and approached Ilya with quick strides. His voice was cold.

“Have you been tailing me? I’m starting to feel a bit offended.”

Ilya finally looked at him. “I did place someone in the villa, but it was for Lady Luten, not you.”

“Your Grace, don’t you think you’re being a bit too bold? Shouldn’t you at least pretend to be sorry to my sister?” Nikolas retorted stiffly. The villa by the lake was a touchy subject—it had been given to his mother as alimony when she divorced Ilya’s father, the Marquis of Lauren.

Ilya met NIkolas’ gaze steadily. “Your mother, no, your sister was much happier after the divorce.”

After her divorce from the Grand Duke, her path diverged sharply from that of other noblewomen. Despite the demands from the head of the Lauren family to return home, she stubbornly chose to remain in the duchy. It wasn’t out of some deep maternal love. Disenchanted with men and marriage, she wanted only one thing: to live freely while doing what she loved.

She spent the rest of her life in seclusion at the villa by the lake. She read extensively, conducted research, invited scholars for discussions, and spent any remaining time with her son. Never once did she lament her situation as a divorcee. She lived her life like a free bird, content in her solitude.

“So, what is it you came up here to say?” Nikolas shifted the topic, unable to refute Ilya’s words.

Ilya got straight to the point. “Have you heard? Countess Glen is hosting a tea party.”

“I have. Lady Luten is quite in a frenzy over it,” Nikolas replied with a shudder.

Last night, he had stopped by the villa, feeling nostalgic for his late sister. He intended to leave quickly, but Lady Luten caught him as if she’d been waiting. For a full hour, she had exhaustively detailed everything about the upcoming tea party.

“Loaning the theater to Countess Glen isn’t an issue, but dictating her guest list feels absurd,” Ilya remarked, shaking his head.

Nikolas nodded in agreement, his expression weary. “It does look bad. I’d be at a loss too.”

Seeing NIkolas’s tired face from the previous night’s ordeal, Ilya felt a bit of satisfaction. “But who else could handle this but you? You’re a master at charming the old ladies.”

Nikolas scowled at Ilya’s teasing tone.

“And charge me for the theater expenses. I’ll cover everything, including Countess Glenn’s costs.”

Nikolas waved off the offer. “It’s not that much.”

Ilya’s tone turned firm. “This is a family matter; it’s right that I pay. Besides, Evelyn specifically asked me to handle it.”

Nikolas scrutinized Ilya for a moment before giving a bitter smile. “Is that all you had to say, Your Grace?”

When Ilya nodded, Nikolas turned to leave without hesitation, raising his hand in a casual farewell. “I’ve been riding all night and need rest. I’m heading back.”

Ilya’s voice trailed after him, laced with mockery. “You seem quite close with Lady Luten. Visiting her villa casually at night—doesn’t that imply a special relationship?”

Nikolas halted and turned slowly, facing Ilya, who wore a mischievous grin. “You two make a good match.”

“Your Grace, I’m not fond of redheads. I prefer golden hair, like spun honey,” Nikolas replied with a hint of annoyance.

As Ilya strode toward him, the guards tensed. Ilya glanced over his shoulder at the soldiers, then leaned in to whisper, “Just one punch.”

Nikolas looked bewildered at the odd request.

“Why do you think that damn woman sent Pia?” Ilya muttered.

Nikolas knew that Countess Glenn had sent Pia, a sorceress, to help Ilya with his insomnia. The real motive, however, was to sow discord between Ilya and Evelyn by making him suspicious of the relationship between Evelyn and the late Nasser. Nikolas, bearing a striking resemblance to his deceased nephew, was the perfect scapegoat. However, there seemed to be more personal reasons behind the plan.

Before Nikolas could react, Ilya’s fist connected with his jaw, hard enough to draw blood. Nikolas tasted the metallic tang in his mouth and cracked his neck. “If we’re going to fool them properly, we need to make it look real.”

NIkolas’s punch landed with equal force, turning Ilya’s head. Ilya licked his bleeding lip, chuckling softly.

This time, Nikolas turned away for good. Ilya watched him until he disappeared, feeling a sense of relief he hadn’t experienced since Evelyn’s birthday party.

Ilya’s feeling of relief didn’t last even a day. After finishing his scheduled tasks and settling in for a well-deserved rest, he was greeted by an unwelcome visitor. Seated across the table from him, Countess Glenn narrowed her eyes as she scrutinized him.

“I noticed that Lord Lauren also had a bruise on his face. And now, coincidentally, you have a cut on your lip. Surely, you two didn’t come to blows, did you?”

“Your guess is correct. Unfortunately, we had some matters to settle with our fists,” Ilya responded calmly, admitting the truth. The Countess concealed her laughter behind her fan.

“My, my, have you both regressed to childhood? Well, boys will be boys,” she said with a chuckle.

Her gaze lingered not on his wounded lip but on his bloodshot eyes. “Your Grace, it seems the person I sent to help you isn’t doing much good.”

“You mean the illusionist? She shows me all sorts of things… it’s not bad,” Ilya replied, rubbing the dark circles under his eyes. A sly smile played on her lips.

“My dear Duke, while you may not be able to break the curse, you can at least cushion its effects. We must try everything, after all. We can’t afford to be picky,” she said sympathetically.

“Godmother,” Ilya’s voice was unfamiliar as he addressed her. She looked at her nephew with a curious expression.

“Only those who have experienced it understand this pain,” he said. Countess Glenn nodded, sympathizing entirely with the agony of insomnia, regardless of her feelings toward her nephew.

A deep smile spread across Ilya’s face. “I hear you are hosting a tea party, Godmother.”

“Ha, has a word of that spread already? Yes, that’s why I’ve come to see you, despite your busy schedule.”

Ilya spoke in a hearty tone. “Feel free to host whatever you desire—plays, flowers, anything. I’ll cover all the expenses.”

“I am deeply touched by your generosity. Though it might not be appropriate to invite the Duke to a ladies’ party, may I invite your wife instead?”

Ilya inwardly sneered. As always, she was as predictable as he had anticipated.

“That’s very kind of you. Are there any ladies or noblewomen around Evelyn’s age attending? As you know, she is quite shy.”

A flicker of irritation crossed Countess Glenn’s face, but she quickly composed herself, her expression smoothing out. “Do not worry about that. My daughter, the Countess Edith, will be there, as will Lady Luten. She seems to have recovered significantly.”

Ilya smiled in satisfaction, and the Countess mirrored his expression. She paused for a moment before speaking again.

“Edith has been rather silent lately. With her husband away, one would expect her to reach out more often, wouldn’t you say?”

“She must be very busy,” Ilya replied.

“Indeed, I suppose it’s just the idle worries of an old woman,” she said, her voice tinged with concern.

Countess Glenn stood up and bid her farewell. “I have taken too much of your time, Your Grace. I shall take my leave now.”

Ilya watched her straighten her back and shoulders, walking away with the grace and dignity befitting her status. Once she was out of sight, he rose from his seat as well.

“I need to check if there’s any word from the Countess Edith’s estate,” he thought, heading to the Knight Commander’s office.

****

Naz’s eyes widened in shock at the sight of Ilya’s split lip. “Your Grace, what happened to your lip? Don’t tell me you said something dreadful to the Lady again?”

“Shut up, Naz,” Ilya snapped, his voice loud and sharp. Naz narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Ilya’s face.

Ilya sank deeply into the sofa and asked, “Have we heard anything from Lewis or Lord Navarone? It feels like we should have received a message by now.”

Naz stood up and walked over to the desk, picking up a small piece of paper. He returned to his seat and handed the paper to Ilya. “Lord Navarone sent a message via carrier pigeon.”

As Ilya read the crooked handwriting, his expression grew more severe with each word.

Svitcha Village, brothel, biggest tavern, informant, scholar and mercenary, pharmacy <Elixir of Immortality>, apothecary, baby’s mother.

“What on earth does this mean?” Ilya crumpled the paper and threw it on the floor in frustration.