* * *
When they heard the reason behind the man Killian had killed, they had come running like their backsides were on fire, suddenly chirping about marriage like they’d discovered a grand solution.
At Killian’s signal, Aiden threw open the massive windows.
The sharp wind that blasted in made the retainers furrow their brows.
Dozens of candles were snuffed out in an instant.
“The stench of rot is choking me. Go on—I’m listening.”
Before long, the retainers sniffled and pulled on their cloaks.
Their cheeks stiffened from the cold.
Killian, ever composed, tilted his head slightly, sometimes nodding as if in agreement.
When he gave just enough response, the retainers, initially excited by his seeming interest, wrapped up quickly under the biting cold.
“How is it that Northerners, who’ve lived here longer than I, can’t endure even this much cold? Is gold the only thing from the North that you love?”
“Of course not, Your Grace.”
Their eyes, finding nowhere to rest, drifted past the wind and out the window.
Even those barren, lifeless tree branches outside surely weighed more than these men.
Silence filled the chamber—heavier than ever.
Only the wind howled like a beast.
One retainer tried to muster courage to speak, but closed his mouth again. Killian wasn’t surprised.
Confirming their cowardice once more almost made him laugh.
When he curled his lips into a faint smirk, their eyes clung to it like moths to a flame.
“Dismissed. That will be all for today.”
At his words, the retainers fled like they’d been waiting for permission, cloaks billowing as their bloated bodies scurried away.
Killian, eyes dry, watched them leave and rubbed the soreness from his eyelids.
Silence again fell upon the chamber.
A long, dull time passed in vain.
Once the room was empty, Aiden quietly closed the window.
Killian had spent half his life like a wanderer.
Perhaps he wasn’t meant to settle anywhere—the North was stifling in its comfort.
Couldn’t he make Nael bear a child if he just drenched his insides with seed?
If not after dozens of times, then maybe hundreds?
Would an empty organ grow if he kept filling it?
Ridiculous thoughts.
And yet, he chuckled.
Even if Nael’s slender white body swelled with pregnancy, he would still look beautiful.
“I’ve instructed Ren to keep a close watch.”
Aiden, quick to sense his lord’s mood, spoke.
If coaxing failed, they’d do what they always did.
They had Nael’s body marked like a target.
They’d keep loosing arrows until his fist-sized heart stopped beating.
Killian’s face, sharp like it was carved from ice, twisted slightly.
Why should he whimper like a dog denied its meal?
It was clear he’d be off to war again once the season passed.
His hopes of a peaceful winter had already been dashed.
The moment reality deviated from his expectations, a cold disgust wrapped around him.
Was there a need to weigh pros and cons?
Just kill them all.
Then there would be peace.
“The Baron?”
“Lying low, as you ordered, Your Grace.”
“How much of the herbs we gave Lily are left?”
“Enough to keep feeding her until they leave the North. The Baron thinks it’s just the unique scent of Northern food.”
Aiden swallowed hard.
The herb the Baron had given Lily had already been identified by someone in the South.
A tiny amount could be medicinal, but the Baron had given her a dangerously high dose just to mask her symptoms.
It wasn’t difficult to discover the name, the effects, or the side effects.
Continued use was dangerous—a double-edged sword.
Acquiring it wasn’t too difficult.
Herbalists only carried small quantities, so they bought it bit by bit from various merchants.
Since it wasn’t commonly used, no one stocked it in bulk.
They even warned against using too much due to the severe side effects.
Presumably, the Baron had done the same—hunting it down from multiple vendors.
One of Killian’s men had scoured the South and still came back empty-handed.
Such dedication, wasn’t it?
All that effort, just to warm his bed, treating his own child’s life like it was worth less than a passing butterfly.
The South had only been a pit stop.
Killian had simply wanted rest.
But the Baron insisted on meeting—claimed he had something precious to show.
Killian had suspected something.
The Baron wasn’t important enough to be under someone’s orders, but it never hurt to be cautious.
The late emperor hadn’t even been able to eat in peace.
A single cup of tea offered by a servant ended his life.
The current emperor, his son, built up a resistance by ingesting small doses of poison in his meals daily.
Such was the reality for royalty—constant vigilance was survival.
Killian had too many enemies from war.
If the Baron was acting under someone’s orders, he needed to find out who.
So deciding to visit the Baron’s estate had taken only a moment.
Was it just idle curiosity?
Or fate, nudging him toward Nael once again?
“He really was adorable.”
Even when Killian muttered to himself, Aiden simply waited.
Ever since Nael had arrived, Killian often drifted into thought, recalling him again and again.
Like a flying squirrel, Nael had darted out of his grasp and made him tear through the port like he was chasing a rat.
That had been a spontaneous accident.
Since then, Killian hadn’t been able to feel at ease.
‘One day, he’ll leave me. Maybe I’m afraid he’ll finally spread his wings and fly freely.’
“Nael.”
“He’s departed.”
“Keep watching the Baron. Make sure Nael can rest as comfortably as possible.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“And Edward?”
“He’s still alive.”
“That leech-like bastard—persistent as ever. Good.”
The herbs given to Lily were in the Baron couple’s meals.
If they were continually exposed to them, even healthy lungs would steadily deteriorate.
For now, they would probably blame it on the freezing northern weather.
Everything was going according to plan.
Once the Baron acknowledged Nael, Killian would dispose of the Baron and his wife, and Nael would naturally become the next Baron.
As stated in the will, if Killian passed, the dukedom and the fief would go under the imperial family’s jurisdiction—but all of his personal fortune would go to Nael.
Nael didn’t need a duke’s title or estate, so Killian would gladly return it to the imperial family.
So that once he was gone, Nael could live peacefully in the southern lands he so longed for.
All preparations were being made thoroughly—and perfectly.
A few of the vassals who had exited the meeting room gathered with disgruntled expressions.
After playing their parts during the meeting, they now convened quietly in a city inn.
“We can’t just stand by and do nothing.”
“In what world does a commoner—no! A male courtesan—inherit such a fortune? It’s something that’ll go down in the history books. A sodomite!”
One man, visibly exasperated, ran a hand through his graying beard and shook his head nervously.
Though tea cups sat in front of them, no one reached for theirs.
The tension left no room for such luxuries.
“Soon, he’ll probably give him the villa too.”
“It’s all been piling up bit by bit—and now it’s a damn mountain!”
One man sighed deeply.
“I won’t move alone. Don’t you remember what happened with Sir Gale? One honest word and he had a sword to his throat. His son was driven out of the north, wasn’t he?”
“Let’s bring it up again at the next vassals’ meeting.”
“As if he’ll listen. Didn’t you notice his ears were shut tight?”
The vassals groaned, all visibly on edge.
* * *
