Ashton was careful to move silently so as not to wake Elizabeth, who was softly sleeping on his back.

A pale hand reached out over Elizabeth.

“What is it?”

As Ashton turned around, Michael, holding a handkerchief, hesitated.

“…As you see, I merely took out a handkerchief to wipe away her tears.”

In Michael’s hand was an exquisitely embroidered, pure white cotton handkerchief.

It was so luxurious that it felt sinful even to compare it to the plain handkerchief Ashton had offered to Elizabeth.

He didn’t like the fact that a knight’s possession was more appealing than what the Duke owned.

“…”

‘Perhaps I should have carried something better with me all the time.’

He felt a regret he had never felt before.

He had ignored Jacqueline Celeste’s insistence to carry objects befitting a Duke.

The woman resting on his back made him ponder such thoughts, an occurrence even Ashton Clitter himself couldn’t understand.

He wasn’t even annoyed by her, despite hearing her intrusive comments.

Only the sensation of her breath and body heat being transmitted through his back was felt.

“…The Duchess seems very tired, just leave her be. I don’t want to wake her up needlessly.”

Michael’s hand went up to Elizabeth’s eyes and hesitated. Having lost its purpose, the hand returned.

“…So, who are you? I didn’t have a chance to ask because of the zombies.”

“I am Ashton Clitter, the Duke of Whitewood. Let’s keep the introductions brief.”

“…Very well, Your Grace.”

‘He’s cautious of me.’

In a way, that was a natural response. It was Elizabeth’s unusual gaze upon first meeting him that was peculiar.

‘Yet I also sense his disapproval.’

In his short life, Ashton had often been met with negative emotions from others.

He didn’t like the scrutinous gazes of Michael, Rous, and Benedict, all directed at Elizabeth who was dreaming away on his back.

‘…Why am I annoyed because of this woman?’

There was no time to wonder.

Benedict Fairman, a Fae half-blood, extended both hands toward him.

“What is it?”

“Please let me carry the Duchess on my back, Your Grace.”

The awkwardness in his speech suggested he wasn’t well-acquainted with human culture.

“It’s not heavy.”

“I want to carry her.”

Though gently refused, the still-youthful-looking Benedict was persistent.

‘Summoning spirits must have drained his energy, yet he still insists on carrying her?’

It was pointless talk.

“Your name was Benedict, right? You’ll be drained because of the spirits, let me, who’s perfectly fine, continue to carry her.”

“…”

With the energy issue stated, Benedict had nothing more to say. A light that seemed to be a spirit flickered beside him. He frowned and spoke.

“Fine, understood. I just need to train harder.”

A mage with indigo hair and weary-looking gray eyes chuckled at Benedict’s statement.

“Well, well. Benedict, who used to say that with the power of spirits, he didn’t need training, has changed.”

Rous seemed to have recovered his magical energy; his pale face was looking better.

He gave a light bow to Ashton.

“You’re the Duke of Whitewood, correct? I am Rous Crichtern, from the southern Mage Tower.”

“…Pleased to meet you, Rous Crichtern. I’ve heard tales of your magical prowess.”

Unable to extend a hand for a handshake due to carrying Elizabeth, Ashton returned the bow.

Even for Ashton, who had battled magical beasts in the snow-bound lands of Whitewood or on the warfront, Rous was a renowned name.

‘The youngest prospective head of the Mage Tower. Though a bastard, he’s been recognized for his competence and chosen as the legitimate successor.’

He had heard that Rous was holed up in the Mage Tower recently, never expected him to be beside Duchess Elizabeth Keaton.
“How did you end up coming here, Mr. Lus?”

“I rushed here in a month after being asked for assistance by Duke Keaton. I heard news of zombies appearing in the capital, Agata. Isn’t it all the more necessary to help in such a dangerous situation?”

While the truth was slightly different, Lus shamelessly responded that he had come solely to aid the righteous Duke Keaton.

‘How childish.’

Aston chuckled inwardly.

News from the social circles had also reached his fief, Whitewood.

‘The Crown Princess… Sienna Evergreen, was it? Weren’t these men rumored to be with her before she became engaged to Lewis?’

Until then, Elizabeth Keaton was in a situation where she was scorned and disregarded by the men before her, known as a wicked woman.

Aston, aware of this, said:

“I never thought the heir of Matop would be concerned about the future of the empire’s citizens. Considering you came after receiving a message from a duke you despised.”

“What did you just say?”

Lus’s eyes twitched. While the words spoken by the Duke of Whitewood were correct, they didn’t sit well with him.

“Can you deny it? Am I wrong?”

It was strange. Before meeting Elizabeth Keaton, even Aston himself had only remembered her as a frivolous woman.

However, after meeting her and reassessing his evaluation, he found it distasteful that the men who freely acted around Elizabeth remained by her side.