I cleared my throat and answered as calmly as I could manage.
"I don't know what customs prevail in Arrental's palace, but that's certainly not true for me personally."
Granada nodded once—a single, polite inclination of her head.
"I see. That's... good to know."
Though she didn't seem to believe me with any particular conviction, Granada mercifully didn't bombard me with further interrogating questions after that.
"I know you must be exhausted from your journey, but I'll show you to your quarters now. Since I didn't receive advance notice of your arrival and was unable to prepare the proper chambers, I apologize that you'll have to stay in the guest room tonight."
"That's perfectly fine. Thank you."
Granada turned and began walking, the distinctive rhythm of her wooden prosthetic striking stone clearly indicating I should follow.
Callius leaned close and whispered softly to me.
"Even though she presents herself that way, she's genuinely a good person at heart."
"If you say so, I'll believe you."
It wasn't particularly difficult—believing someone and being afraid of them could happen simultaneously, after all.
"I hope you sleep well tonight."
"Thank you. You as well, Callius."
I exchanged quick farewells with him, then followed Granada up the stone staircase—silently vowing to myself that I absolutely would not cry, no matter how intimidated I felt.
My maids scurried after us, laden with my luggage.
As Chloe disappeared up the stairs with Granada, audible sighs of relief rippled through the assembled crowd.
The servants and knights who'd been standing in rigidly separate groups now began mingling comfortably, exchanging warm greetings and embraces.
Many of Ronheim's knights and servants were family members or lovers—a practice that would have been scandalous in the imperial capital.
Even Mainz and Granada were siblings.
It was common for employers in more prosperous regions to avoid hiring blood relatives as butler and head maid, due to justified concerns about embezzlement, bribery, and nepotism.
But in Ronheim, where loyalty meant everything and wealth meant very little, not many people concerned themselves with such aristocratic niceties.
"Herbar!"
"Martha!"
The tallest and most powerfully built knight—Herbaran—pushed through the crowd of maids with a woman's name on his lips, then swept his wife Martha into his arms.
The two were newlyweds who'd been married in a hasty ceremony the very day before Herbar had departed to follow Callius to Arrental.
Martha buried her face in her husband's chest and wept openly with relief.
The knight named Karl, standing beside Herbar, also scanned the assembled maids, clearly searching for someone specific.
The young woman he sought raised her hand high—trying to appear indifferent but utterly failing to hide her excitement.
"Over here, brother!"
These two, like Mainz and Granada, were siblings—each serving Callius loyally from their respective positions.
"How've you been managing, you little brat? You look like you've grown since I last saw you."
"I'm exactly the same height, aren't I? Didn't you bring me any gifts or anything?"
"Isn't it gift enough that your beloved older brother came back alive?"
"Hardly."
"Mother and Father?"
"They're both waiting for you at home, same as always."
"Everything all right there?"
"Everything's fine."
Andrew approached the young woman who was bluntly thumping her brother Karl on the shoulder with obvious affection.
"Leviche, it's been too long. I'm so glad to see you."
"Oh, Andrew! I'm so relieved you came back safely. You're not injured anywhere, are you?"
It was a remarkably different kind of warmth than the kind she'd just shown her own brother—gentler, more careful.
"Thank you for your concern. By the way, where's Hillen? Have you seen her recently?"
Hillen was Andrew's younger sister—a seriously ill patient who'd been bedridden for years with a wasting sickness.
Leviche's face softened with genuine pleasure as she reassured him.
"We visited just yesterday, actually. Hillen's been doing remarkably well lately—she even went for a walk outside yesterday! I'm certain she'll be absolutely overjoyed to hear that her brother's returned home in good health."
Andrew's entire body seemed to sag with relief at that news.
Callius, observing his subordinates and staff greeting each other with such obvious joy, smiled with genuine contentment and raised his voice to address them all.
"You're all dismissed for the night. You've worked extraordinarily hard, so I'm granting everyone a reward furlough. Enjoy your time with your families—you've more than earned it."
"Thank you, my lord!"
The knights saluted crisply in unison, their faces alight with excitement.
They were clearly thrilled at the prospect of reuniting with family and loved ones after such a long, difficult absence.
Among those who'd already encountered family members working at the castle, there were fresh bursts of tears and laughter as they shared news—both good and ill—that had accumulated during the separation.
The moment they heard Callius's dismissal, several knights immediately departed the castle at a run, racing home through the snowy darkness.
The castle staff exchanged pleasantries with the departing knights, then—as if they had far more pressing matters to attend to—swarmed toward Callius himself.
"Your Grace!"
"I can't tell you how relieved we are that you've returned safely!"
"Are you injured anywhere? Should we summon the physician?"
It was a remarkably informal relationship between lord and servants—far more familiar than anything that would have been tolerated in the imperial capital.
Despite the vast difference in social status, neither Callius nor his employees seemed particularly concerned about maintaining rigid hierarchical boundaries.
More and more staff members pressed forward, crowding around their lord with obvious affection and concern.
"But why the sudden wedding, Your Grace?"
"We were absolutely shocked when Brentian arrived with news that you were married and bringing home a wife!"
"And an Idelian Imperial Princess, no less..."
"What in the world happened while you were in Arrental?"
Callius raised his hands in a placating gesture, gently calming the staff members who peppered him with questions born of genuine concern and consuming curiosity.
"An official announcement will be made soon enough. Many of your questions will be answered then, so I ask for your patience just a bit longer."
"When will that be?"
"I'm so curious I won't be able to sleep tonight!"
Mainz stepped forward and sternly rebuked the employees who'd surrounded Callius so thoroughly he could barely move.
"What do you all think you're doing, behaving so rudely?! His Grace needs proper rest, so everyone disperse immediately!"
The staff members obediently stepped back, their faces acknowledging that they shouldn't further trouble Callius—who'd just returned from an arduous journey—simply to satisfy their curiosity.
Mainz positioned himself protectively beside Callius, practically serving as a physical barrier.
"It's late. You should retire for the evening, Your Grace. I've prepared a hot bath to help you warm up after your journey."
"Thank you, Mainz. That sounds perfect."
"It's my honor to serve."
Alex clicked his tongue disapprovingly as he observed the staff members still hovering nearby, watching Callius with undisguised fondness.
"There are far too many mother hens clucking around here. Though I suppose it's good that you're so well-loved by your people."
Even as he said it, he was smiling—as if Callius's popularity with his staff wasn't actually a bad thing at all.
Andrew tapped his shoulder pointedly.
"Didn't you insist earlier that the Princess treasures that stuffed bear and pillow as much as her own life, and demand that we handle them with utmost care? She trusted you completely with possessions she values that highly, and you're just standing here empty-handed like an idiot?"
Andrew's tone was completely different from the gentle concern he'd shown when asking Leviche about his ailing sister—harsh and dismissive now.
Only then did Alex realize with horror that he was still carrying Chloe's beloved stuffed bear and pillow, and gasped.
"I have to return these to her immediately!"
"That spoiled little princess is already causing problems for everyone, isn't she?"
Andrew's voice dripped with contempt as he patted Alex's shoulder in mock sympathy.
Alex, who'd received comfort he absolutely hadn't wanted, felt his irritation spike at Andrew's constant needling criticism of Chloe.
"Stop being so deliberately harsh, Andrew. She's our lord's wife now—you should show some basic respect."
Andrew snorted derisively.
"Respect? For the Idelian royal family? You must be joking."
Alex couldn't contain himself any longer.
"Andrew, you've been relentlessly criticizing the Princess since we first encountered her. Enough is enough. Has she actually done something terrible to you personally that I'm not aware of?"
"What?"
"She was nothing but kind and considerate to all of us throughout the entire journey to Ronheim. The cultural differences must have been profoundly uncomfortable for her, yet she never showed any signs of distress when dealing with the Uttar tribe—she expressed only genuine gratitude."
Alex vividly remembered how Chloe had behaved during their parting with the Uttars.
Though his fellow knights hadn't openly commented on it, none of them could have failed to be surprised by how genuinely delighted Chloe had been with the simple handmade gift from the chief's wife.
Someone who'd lived her entire life in the splendid capital of Arrental, in a palace literally adorned with gold and precious jewels, shouldn't have been so moved by such a modest present.
Yet Chloe had been so sincerely pleased that she'd kept the necklace around her throat even as she'd followed Granada up to her chambers.
Alex argued with growing conviction.
"She's different from the Idelian royals we have every reason to despise. She genuinely seems like a good person."
Andrew laughed—a harsh, disbelieving sound.
"What, have you completely lost your mind? When did you start championing the Idelian imperial family? Don't you remember that southerners are always superficially pleasant while harboring the worst intentions? Are you really still naive enough to be fooled by that performance?"
"Or have you simply decided in advance to hate her, so now everything she does seems hateful to you regardless of her actual behavior?"
Andrew sighed with exaggerated patience.
"Are you being manipulated by those Arrental aristocrats into doing something catastrophically stupid again?"
"Answer my question. If the Princess is supposedly wearing a kind mask specifically to deceive us, why would she go to such extraordinary lengths? It might make sense for our lord, but why bother performing for mere knights like us?"
"Obviously because she's executing some elaborate plan! The Arrentals always—"
Alex sighed heavily at the repetitive argument.
"Andrew, not every single person from Arrental calculates their every action with malicious intent the way you seem to think. It's deeply uncharitable to condemn someone without any specific evidence of wrongdoing."
"What? What did you just say to me?"
"Did I say something factually incorrect?"
The tone between them grew increasingly sharp and hostile.
Both men were exhausted—they'd endured grueling combat under the Emperor's orders, suffered through profoundly uncomfortable weeks in the Arrental capital with battle-weary bodies, and finally completed the arduous journey home.
The accumulated fatigue made them both far more irritable than usual.
Brentian, who'd been upstairs consulting with Callius, descended the stairs and witnessed the two knights confronting each other with obvious aggression.
"Why don't you both stand down and get some rest?"
But Andrew was too agitated to heed the suggestion. He whirled on Alex as if preparing to throw a punch.
"Alex—why are you so pathetically protective of the Idelian royal family? Do you feel somehow special being appointed as that spoiled doll's personal nursemaid?"
He punctuated his contemptuous words by thumping the head of the stuffed bear still strapped to Alex's back.
CLANK.
A distinctly metallic sound—metal striking metal—rang out from inside the bear's head.
"...?"
Andrew, Alex, and Brentian all simultaneously turned their gazes to the innocent-looking stuffed toy.
The silence stretched taut as all three men stared at the bear with dawning suspicion.
What could possibly be hidden inside a child's stuffed toy that would make that kind of sound?
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