Chapter 97 — Initiation
The knight Norton glanced at Raphael, then leaned toward Demichi and whispered quietly:
“That’s… His Grace’s little brother-in-law…”
“So what? I knew that already.”
“…He’s someone the Grand Duke cherishes… a lot…”
“What?”
At those words, Demichi jolted in shock and quickly set Raphael down.
“Norton, you bastard! Why didn’t you say that earlier?”
Raphael gasped, coughing from the loosened grip on his neck, as Demichi’s enormous hand patted his back like thunder.
“So you’re our Grand Duke’s one and only precious little brother-in-law? Forgive me, young master! I had no idea—it was rude of me not to recognize you!”
He leaned in, grinning mischievously, and whispered into Raphael’s ear:
“Don’t tell His Grace about this, alright?”
Norton glanced at Raphael and added in his usual calm voice:
“The training yard is full of sharp weapons. It’s dangerous. You should return now—I’ll escort you.”
“That’s right, young master,” Demichi said. “This isn’t a playground for children. If you want to play, go to the gardens instead.”
He puckered his lips and coddled him, which made Raphael clench his fists in anger.
“I’m not a child! I’m twelve years old!”
“Huh?” Demichi raised a brow.
“Liar. You’re so small—”
The surrounding knights, who had been watching, also looked surprised.
“We knew kids from the capital grew slower, but this is too much, isn’t it?”
“Sir Demichi.”
“Be honest—he doesn’t even look eight years old!”
“I—I’ll grow soon enough!”
Their curious stares made Raphael’s cheeks burn red.
“What, does the Marquis’s house starve you? His Grace was scrawny too, and now you—”
“I’m not scrawny! I—I’m going to be a knight!”
Demichi’s lips curled into a grin.
“Oh-ho. Ever trained before?”
“Of course!” Raphael straightened proudly.
Even if he was small, he had trained in swordsmanship at the Marquis’s estate since childhood. At the academy too, he had rarely lost in sparring against boys his age.
The knights’ eyes glimmered with curiosity at his confidence.
Demichi rubbed his chin and glanced at the vice-captain.
The gray-haired knight gave him a disapproving look, then sighed faintly—an unspoken sign to do as he pleased.
Taking that as permission, Demichi smirked.
“Hey, Leon!”
A young knight hurried over.
“Leon is the youngest among us, but his skills aren’t lacking. How about a friendly match?”
Leon looked youthful in the face but had a large, solid build.
Raphael glanced around nervously. The knights’ eyes were glued to him, waiting to see what the Marquis’s boy could do.
He swallowed hard.
“…Alright.”
At his nod, some knights whistled.
Demichi handed him a wooden practice sword, and the knights cleared a circle around the two.
“Leon, go easy. Don’t hurt the precious young master.”
“You know what I mean, right?”
The knights chuckled teasingly.
Raphael gripped the wooden sword tightly.
Leon raised his own weapon casually, his expression relaxed.
“We can start whenever you wish.”
Raphael’s fingers trembled slightly.
It was his first time sparring before strangers—and surrounded by knights who didn’t particularly like him.
He didn’t expect to win, but—
‘It’s fine. I just need to charge with all I’ve got!’
Even if he lost, his sister would praise him for being brave.
He clenched his sword and lunged forward.
Clash!
The sharp crack of wood echoed through the yard.
Raphael recalled every lesson he’d ever learned and threw himself into the fight, attacking wildly.
He managed to strike toward Leon’s waist, watching closely for his reaction.
Instead of mocking him, Leon’s expression showed mild surprise—and even a hint of pleasure.
Their levels were worlds apart, but Leon didn’t simply brush him aside. He met Raphael’s attacks evenly, parrying rather than overpowering.
Raphael’s lungs burned as he pushed forward, but the exchange thrilled him.
The knights around them began shouting encouragement.
“Yes! There, push harder!”
“Good! Don’t stop now!”
His legs started trembling, his forehead slick with sweat.
Leon, however, hadn’t even broken a sweat.
Raphael felt he might collapse any moment.
After what felt like dozens of exchanges—
“That’s enough.”
Demichi called the match just as Raphael was about to give up.
‘Still… I lasted to the end.’
Exhausted, Raphael dropped his sword.
Leon smiled warmly, lowering his weapon.
“That was an excellent match, young master.”
“Th-thank you?”
Why was he thanking him? That sounded stupid—but Leon only nodded politely and stepped back.
“Impressive. Our young master is tougher than I thought,” Demichi laughed.
The moment he said it, Raphael collapsed onto the ground with a thud.
The knights’ hearty laughter filled the yard.
Demichi crouched and squeezed Raphael’s shoulders and arms with his big hands.
“Good bones. If you eat properly, you’ll grow into a fine man.”
“But… I already eat well…”
“You need meat.”
A knight nearby added:
“In Blenheim, the knights eat heaps of meat three times a day.”
“…Does the Grand Duke too?” Raphael asked.
“Eh?”
“Does His Grace eat lots of meat?”
Before the knight could answer, Demichi leaned down and whispered dramatically:
“Not just meat. Monster meat.”
“…!”
“That’s how he keeps such a massive body.”
‘Could the rumors… be true?’ Raphael’s eyes went wide.
“Captain, enough,” Norton said, frowning.
“Instead of dispelling ridiculous rumors, you’re making them worse.”
“Scaring outsiders is useful, isn’t it? What’s the harm? Come on, young master—our lord is amazing, isn’t he? He slices monsters like paper.”
Raphael, embarrassed but honest, gave a small nod.
“See? Even he thinks so!” Demichi boomed.
The other knights grinned, giving Raphael a thumbs-up.
“He’s sharp for his age—definitely the Grand Duke’s brother-in-law.”
“Cute and clever too.”
Their easy camaraderie made Raphael’s heart lighten.
Back at the Marquis’s estate, even after years of training with knights, he had never shared such warm words with them.
‘Maybe they all like my sister too…’
Maybe she was happier here than he had thought.
Just as he was warming up to the North, a tall figure appeared in front of him—the Grand Duke himself.
***
The sound of slow, heavy footsteps echoed on the brick path.
Loic walked beside Raphael in awkward silence, with Norton following a few steps behind.
At the training yard, when he had seen Raphael, Loic had impulsively offered to escort him back to the annex personally.
‘But what do I even say to a boy this age…?’
He had never realized, until now, how poor his social skills were.
The top of Raphael’s brown head bobbed quickly beside him, trying to keep pace.
Loic remembered the boy’s snarling defiance from before:
—“These people will never treat my sister well!”
He had seemed fierce then.
Loic tried, cautiously:
“Is the annex comfortable enough?”
Raphael flinched, looking up at him.
Was his tone too harsh?
The boy frowned and muttered:
“…It’s fine.”
Rude little brat.
To speak so curtly to the Grand Duke—clearly, he was relying on Annette’s protection. Loic couldn’t scold him for that.
Patiently, he tried again:
“Did you come out here because the annex was stifling?”
“…I was just curious about the knights.”
“And? What do you think of them?”
Raphael mumbled, something like “not bad.”
Loic thought back—Annette had also rushed to the training yard her first time here.
‘Maybe the siblings are alike in that way…’
They didn’t resemble each other in looks, but there was a familiar warmth in the boy’s round cheeks when he glanced up.
“You’re calm today,” Loic remarked, remembering their first meeting.
“Yesterday you looked ready to drag Annette away.”
Raphael’s reply was sharp:
“If my sister wants to leave, then of course I’ll take her.”
“Annette is my wife.”
Loic puffed his chest slightly, pride swelling. He could still feel her embrace from the night before, vivid in his memory.
But Raphael retorted coldly:
“The Grand Duke isn’t her type.”
“…What?”
Loic froze mid-step.
“…Then what is her type?”
