19 'Let’s see how good you’ve become'

Along with the emperor and Amelia's late father, the Duke of House Mulford was the only one who knew about his—and Priscilla's—identities. That he's not just a mere knight from a foreign kingdom, but the heir to the Grand Duke's seat. And that Priscilla wasn't just some noble lady, but the youngest princess of the Empire of Pradour.

Princesses in that empire were no more than the highest quality breeding mares to neighboring kings and emperors. And a princess sent as a delegate was nothing more than an exquisite gift—to be allowed to become a mistress much like Vance's sister was to their emperor. And when he learned that Priscilla, his niece whom he took care of much like his own since his sister's demise, was summoned by the emperor as his representative to the Empire of Creador, he couldn't fathom it.

He was so enraged that he planned to storm the palace and destroy it. But his niece wasn't one fond of bloodshed, so she begged him not to and instead asked him to come with her.

Vance was readying himself, conquering battle after battle, growing his own supporters and army—all of it was so he could one day stand as the only Grand Duke in all of Pradour. But that was all in the past. His father was against it and told him that he'd disown him once he got into the ship; still, Vance paid no heed and left everything behind him.

The same reason that the letter that was handed to him this morning weighed heavily in his mind. Just when he thought that he'd left everything behind, he never expected that after so many years, his past would come knocking again. Now that his father's dead and his cousin, who was supposed to inherit the title, was also at death's door after receiving a blow to the head at a recent trouble in the mines, Vance's being summoned back. As it turned out, his name was still in his father's will, and he never really formally disowned him, making him the legal rightful heir to their title.

He made it clear before leaving that he had no intention of inheriting it anymore. His supporters were against him going, but he vouched that his cousin would do much better. But since his cousin's dying and his supporters knew about the content of the late Grand Duke's will, they're going against the current head, which was a nephew from his father's side.

The letter also stated that his nephew tried to go against the empire and claimed all that Vance conquered before as his own, threatening the people in those states and regions to rally under him. With the ongoing territorial disputes, it's even more chaotic there than when he left years ago.

"Vance… hey, Vance!" a slightly heavy hand landed on the advisor's cheek, but he was too disoriented to retaliate. "Good, you're back. I was about to splash you with water," the duke kidded, showing the glass of water ready in his hand.

Vance glared. He inhaled sharply and took the glass from Vernon to drink. Both his mind and body were at their breaking points. He needed to think fast and resolve his problem so he could get some well-deserved rest and go back to just being plain old advisor Vance Thomson.

"Let's go back to Walton's case, shall we?" the old advisor shook his head and massaged his temples before gulping another glass of water. He then ran his fingers through his hair and leaned back—looking soberer than he was minutes ago.

"Walton was at Toutis for the past few months for his new business venture, which many in the Order believed was oil or a new mine, but it was a little far-fetched. I say he's just there to plainly invest. I have some people check most of his companies in the empire, and there were no indications that he met with someone here before what happened to Clement and Amelia."

Vance nodded along. He already knew that Walton was in another kingdom before the incident happened, so he thought he might've talked to them outside of the duchy. Vernon has been a great help, but he's the sword and shield of the empire, not the eyes and ears, so he wouldn't blame him if he already knew all of those.

"I did gather from some of my trusted knights I stationed at the borders that they spotted Walton's secretary using different routes to enter the empire. When they asked him about it, he said they had been traveling for business and was going through which was closer to them. He came once a week with no specific time and day. He also has documents to present at the borders, so we have no means to detain him." The old advisor leaned closer to Vernon with a conflicted look. "Only his secretary. Always. Walton himself has never set foot on the empire's soil since then."

It was new to Vance, but Arabella probably has some idea about it since she took her sweet time getting into Walton's mansion. Having an eye at every border around Creador was a little over Vance's power. He could put people in places to gather information but not simultaneously—it's one of the benefits of having Vernon around.

"I'll ask Arabella what she found out on her own little expedition. I'll write you about it once I get the details."

"Or better yet, I'll hear it from your lady assassin herself on my birthday by the end of the month. I expect you and Amelia to be there." Vernon's eyes squinted as he flashed his perfectly white teeth which made Vance chuckle. He shook his head and stretched his arms upwards before he stood up.

Looking at his watch, it's been a little over three hours since he came. He's about an hour away from Osmea's border and about two hours away from the palace by carriage. By the time he arrives, it would already be evening—well, the sooner he got home, the better.

Not long after their discussion, Vance grabbed his cloak and pulled the hood over his head. He said his farewell to the duke and left the tavern swiftly. At the carriage, Vance fetched the letter from his secret pocket and reread it again. He couldn't believe its content; the more he thought about it, the more conflicted he's become. The title he spent his younger days obtaining and thought was gone forever now dangled in front of him like a carrot to a horse.

And no matter how he looked at it, he'd have to return to Pradour soon. Maybe returning and claiming his rightful seat would help Amelia, but that meant him leaving her behind.

Well, Alexander's going to be there for her, so he could be assured. He wouldn't be worried if that's the only thing he's thinking about, but someone's after the duchess again, and it's something that he couldn't take his eyes off. Not until he sees the end of it.

"Mr. Vance?" the old advisor blinked and turned his attention to the window on the left side of the carriage where he saw Esdras peeking through. "A messenger bird arrived earlier. Sir Dehstun is waiting for you at the border." Vance nodded. Whatever Dehstun gathered must be vital that he needed to see him right away.

As the horses started to march forward, across the open field and into a forest with swooping branches that dangled from every tree to create a sort of tunnel that only a single carriage could pass through—and maybe some space for horses on the sides—different shades of fall covered the ground. Looking through tree after tree, the wall separating the Capital from Osmea could be seen at a distance. The wall seemed barely visible from the outside as the duchy's surrounded by thick forests and glorious mountains. Though it has some advantages, being surrounded by trees that anyone can easily climb also poses different problems. But since Creador's a relatively peaceful empire with only minor conflicts, there's little need to be heavily guarded, though, for some protection, the towers were manned twenty-four-seven.

By the time the carriage reached the border, knights stationed at the gates stood in position and bowed with their fists on their chests as two others pulled the gates up to let Vance and his company in. Not far from the knight's post, a man in a grey cloak came up as the carriage prepared to come to a halt. And as it did, the advisor opened the door—it's Dehstun, as he informed in the letter he sent. He pulled his cloak off as soon as the door closed, and the horses started trotting again.

"Nobles supporting Walton are planning a coup, and Walton's been getting support from other kingdoms, expanding his source of funds. But there's something off; I am sure he's not working by himself. There's someone big behind this."

A chuckle left Vance's throat, and Dehstun smirked in response.

"I hope they're prepared for the consequences," Vance said in a low, almost sarcastic voice.

"Self-defense wouldn't count as murder, right?" the traveling doctor seconded.

"For someone who brings life to people, you sure do enjoy taking it from them too." Dehstun just massaged his chin as his gaze looked at a distance with the slight smile still stamped on his face. "Send me the list of names as soon as you have it," Vance commanded after.

The doctor nodded and looked at the advisor before leaving to disappear in some alley to who knows where.

The rest of the trip home was peaceful. There were no commotions of any sort in town, though there were expectant stares from the children that came to see the duchess upon knowing that a carriage with House Florence's crest was passing through. Given her childhood, Amelia was surprisingly fond of children; they're one of the most supported of all of the institutions in Osmea. The duchess often played with the kids whenever she's in town to patrol. But upon seeing the tassel-less roof of the carriage, the children's shoulders slumped, and a disappointed face ruined the former glistening eyes as they quietly went back to where they came from.

A few minutes over an hour later, the palace gates creaked and opened, and the advisor's carriage and his knights entered the palace grounds, straight to the stables. From there, Mr. Vance went around the back through the kitchen door and asked for a meal straight away. The trip made him famished as he wasn't able to have anything other than liquor at the inn.

**********

Morning, the next day.

Amelia woke up feeling refreshed and earlier than usual. It was great to see her ladies-in-waiting complete after a long while, and Arabella's talkativeness was something she missed, so they talked until late last night. As she stretched and yawned, the sun faintly peeked through her curtain. Looking around, she pushed her blanket off her and set aside the pillows blocking her way.

Barefooted, the duchess went to her window to look at the garden. The sun's barely up, but she could see from a distance that the bustling knights and other troops at the training ground were—training. Then, Amelia had an idea. She hasn't done it in a while because she was busy with her etiquette training for the Gathering, then the thing happened with the Duke of House Clement, and a lot more things happened after that. The time she spent indoors made her rusty that she'd be an embarrassment for someone who trained directly under the Mulfords.

Excited and motivated, a broad smile ran across Amelia's face as she hurriedly went to wash her face and replenish herself before she rummaged through her closet for her training clothes.

Donning a perfect bun, white cotton long-sleeved shirt that went up to her neck, and fitted trousers made from stretchable fabric, Amelia went ahead and picked her boots. After examining herself in front of the mirror, she grabbed her fur-lined cloak and went outside. Her knights guarding her door were surprised to see her and insisted that they come with her or else her advisor would chew them alive.

The duchess laughed, saying that she would be fine and there were many knights along her way. She also reassured them that he'd explain things to Vance so they wouldn't be 'chewed alive.' But they were adamant about not letting her out of their sights.

Amelia pouted. She threw a glare at them, but they barely flinched. Well, they're Vance's chosen knights after all; it would be shameful if they didn't live up to the name.

Then the duchess had an idea. She gave up on insisting her way to the knights and went back to her room, smirking.

As the nights were longer these past few days, it's become chilly even in the morning too. Feeling adventurous, the duchess opened her balcony door and looked around. There were knights stationed in the garden, but there's a blind spot only she and Arabella knew—it's the tree that her lady assassin used to surprise her. The view from the side of her balcony's interrupted by another growing tree. Plus, the sun's barely up yet, which lowers the chances of her being seen.

When she's made up her mind, the duchess untied her cloak and rolled it in a ball before dropping it to the ground. She wouldn't want to get caught up on a branch and have her saved. What's the use of sneaking out?

Amelia chuckled. Well, what's the use of her sneaking out if she's free to strut her way out of her own palace? For all she knew, she could overpower her uncle's instructions. But that would take all the fun.

Adventure, her mind answered. She's lost a bit of her sense of adventure, and she's going to retrieve it.

Amelia smiled wide.

Her breath fogged, and the leaves were a bit prickly, but the branches were sturdy enough for her. She might weigh a bit more than Arabella, but she's good at balancing herself. Taking a deep breath and another look at the garden and behind her, the duchess grabbed the nearest thick branch and slipped her way out successfully. She looked below and calculated what steps to take as she minded her breathing and counted her steps. Not long after, the ordeal was done and over with. Amelia brushed herself off any dirt and shook her cloak off any as well.

With another deep breath and determined eyes, Amelia navigated herself sneakily to the training grounds. The deed gave her such a rush that she was almost out of breath when she arrived. The men, mostly half-naked and sweating even with the morning air, scrammed all over to grab the nearest piece of fabric they could take hold of to cover themselves up at the sight of their duchess, which made Amelia laugh. She walked into the ground as if it was her usual doings—it was when she was younger after coming back from Aclador, but she rarely did nowadays.

"Who's up to train with me?" Amelia asked, smiling. Younger—but older than her—men looked at each other confused. The older ones—those around when her father was still alive—weren't uncomfortable. Instead, they expressed their amusement and teasingly pushed the younger men to spar with her.

She has sparred with them before, and they said they were impressed, but the uneasiness of the others who barely had the chance to meet the duchess ever so often was entertaining.

"I don't break easily if that's what you're worried about," a flashback of that night when she was beaten down came to mind, but she learned to pay it no heed. Amelia continued to walk to and fro the grounds looking for an opponent to match. The older ones smiled and pointed with their eyes who to choose. The duchess wanted to pick someone to tease, but she was surprised when a smooth voice came walking through the small crowd that gathered.

"We'll see about that, duchess." A half-naked, tall, tanned man with a chiseled jawline and deep-seated green eyes that popped amidst his disarrayed jet-black hair stood in front of her with his hands on his hips. As sweat trickled down his sculpted torso, a small boyish grin never left his thin lips.

Who would've thought that a former slave dressed in rags and who could barely hold a silver spoon would grow up so fine?

Amelia's brow arched. It's Esdras, one of her advisor's personal knights. She sparred with him once when she was younger, but never again.

"Let's see how good you've become," Amelia heard Esdras muttered as he cracked his knuckles and stretched his muscles.

The two gauged each other, circling around the center of the training grounds. The expectant observers gathered around and hoped to remain still, but the distinctive mutters of bets and favors were loud and clear to Amelia.

"Let's remain calm and collected, Amelia. Calm and colle—" A tap on the shoulder startled Amelia. She stood still, blinking, thinking what happened. Just a few seconds ago, Esdras was across her, then suddenly he's beside her.

"You aren't as quick as you once were, duchess." There's a hint of sarcasm in the way that Vance's knight called her, and it irked Amelia. She glared at him and took another deep breath; as someone worthy of being called the prodigy of House Mulford, she couldn't afford to lose.

Amelia lowered her stance and reached behind her—to her surprise, and everybody's, she wasn't wearing her sword belt or have any weapons of some sort with her. She's as bare as a newborn babe. Amelia clicked her tongue. It's not that she lacked physical training—she learned martial arts properly and sparred daily before, but the duchess focused on what she excelled most—using weapons.

Again, the duchess lowered her stance and, with a deep inhale, quickly charged forward. Esdras expecting the sequence flung his arms open to receive and tackled her, but as soon she came close, Amelia dropped, both her hands on the ground with her left leg making a sweeping motion towards the knight to tip his balance off.

But she thought wrong. Esdras still managed to keep himself upright as surprised gasps reached the duchess' ears. With a swift turn, she got on her feet. After a few more unsuccessful attempts towards the knight, Amelia wiped the sweat off her face, and as she did, her eyes seemed to glow.

With the growing cheers motivating her, the duchess coaxed Esdras to make his first move, and when he did, she didn't hesitate to turn around. Grabbing the man by his arm, Amelia anchored her feet and pulled the knight over her shoulder, but Esdras was quick with his reflexes. He managed to place his hand on her back and pushed against her, keeping his balance. As a response to her boldness, the knight wrapped his arms tightly around the duchess, much to the surprise of their spectators. Few stood up, saying that he shouldn't be so bold as to disrespect Amelia by keeping her so close to him; even the older knights couldn't help but glare at the man, but they kept their distance.

"You should just let us men protect you, duchess," the hair on Amelia's nape rose as the warm breath of Esdras brushed the side of her ears. Not to mention, every bulge and curve of the knight's body seared her back wet with sweat. The arms that circled around her were too muscular for her to do any significant damage. But just when she was about to counter, Esdras suddenly released her, and everyone stood in attention. Following where their frightened gaze locked, she saw her dear advisor at a distance.

"Uncle!" she called, and like a child, she hurriedly went over to the old man.

"Lia," Vance called softly when the duchess reached him. Amelia closed her eyes as her advisor tucked the loose hair behind her ear. "Esdras," Vance's voice was more commanding than ever, and Esdras' confidence seemed to boil down into nothingness as his formerly eager eyes turned soft. He bowed his head and didn't lift it up until Vance told him otherwise.

"I enjoyed this morning," Amelia said besides the old advisor, "I'll tell the kitchen to serve you plenty today." There were loud cheers, and the duchess couldn't help but smile herself. However, the smile turned to a frown when her attention shifted to the pair of eyes intensely following her since Vance went ahead.

It was Esdras again, with his boyish smile and bright eyes.