Jacqueline confidently replied, “It’s the Whitewood region.”

“…Really?”

“Yes. It’s the territory ruled by my cousin and the Duke, Aston.”

A graceful smile adorned Jacqueline’s lips.

A few days ago, she witnessed Aston contacting the aide of Whitewood’s territory.

〈If Lord Kitten or his representative requests help, accept it unconditionally. Lord’s will is currently the same as my will.〉

Whitewood’s divine being, who received the message, expressed willingness to assist as Jacqueline relayed Aston’s decision to follow Elizabeth Kitten’s will without questioning.

Jacqueline, who had never seen her cousin trust someone like that, was very surprised.

‘Him?’

Quick-witted Jacqueline soon suspected that something had changed in Aston’s mind.

And that change was probably initiated by Elizabeth Kitten.

‘Then, supporting it is natural.’

Since Jacqueline liked the changed Elizabeth, she decided to help unconditionally.

Of course, the fact that only Whitewood’s territory was willing to help so readily played a significant role in this decision.

“Yes. My Lord. Perhaps the Duke of Whitewood informed you in advance.”

“…The Duke?”

“I saw it clearly. Aston first delivered Lord’s will, urging us to follow it.”

Jacqueline’s words left me bewildered.

‘The Duke of Whitewood…’

Was it out of gratitude?

My eyes were on the verge of becoming teary.

“Achoo!”

Whitewood Duke Aston Clitter, who was diligently cracking open walnuts again today, sniffed and grinned.

His skin was covered with scars from battles with monsters, and it looked quite painful, suggesting that he must have suffered a lot immediately after the injuries.

Of course, Aston didn’t care about who saw or talked about it.

“Strange. Is someone talking about me?”

Otherwise, there was no reason to sneeze on such a warm day.

Aston’s exile was the northern Whitewood territory, an extremely harsh area where cold winter weather persisted for over three-quarters of the year.

Even though he was born in the capital Agata, growing up and experiencing tough times in that harsh region made him less susceptible to the cold. So, returning to the mild autumn weather of the capital was nothing unusual.

Even when Ruth started complaining about the cold and began taking out a long robe, he mocked, saying, “What’s wrong with you, complaining about the cold like a weakling?”

“Could it be a cold?”

As Aston raised the ore, spreading the dust with a shaking motion, he paused for a moment and touched his forehead.

“No fever at all…”

It was strange.

If Ruth had witnessed that, he would have wagged his middle finger, saying, ‘You, sir Duke, are abnormal.’
The future heir to the Mausoleum, currently treated as a frail magician, was groaning in pain.

“Duke Whitewood, monsters are monsters, after all…”

Benedict, who had fallen out of training due to exhaustion, looked at Aston, and in the absence of Ruth, who wasn’t present, stuck out his tongue.

‘He’s much stronger than Prince Louis. I can’t understand why the emperor rejected him.’

Talented individuals were rare, and a Swordmaster who freely wielded magic was even more so. Even after a lifetime of training, becoming a knight at the Swordmaster level was extremely rare. That the exiled 2nd prince had achieved it made him extraordinary among the extraordinary.

To become a young Swordmaster capable of handling most monsters was impressive. With such abilities, he could return to the imperial family anytime. However, the emperor completely ignored Aston, as if he were not his son.

Benedict, lying in the corner of the training ground, pondered while watching Aston swing his sword again.

‘…Did that prince receive some ominous prophecy?’

Otherwise, how could they treat a prince who had reached such a monstrous level as if he didn’t exist?

‘Perhaps it’s because of narrow-minded Louis’s jealousy. I can’t understand the emperor’s actions.’

Well, the emperor had already died like a prince, making it impossible to find out the reason.

As Benedict turned his body, his gaze was caught by the platinum blonde.

“What are you doing, Spirit Knight? Are you already exhausted?”

It was Michael, the Holy Knight.

He swept back his sweaty platinum hair coolly.

The vivid muscles, as sharp as Aston’s, were distinct even under the tight training clothes, causing Benedict to frown at his relatively weak physique.

“I am Benedict Fairman. A Holy Knight.”

“Understood.”

‘He knows but refuses to address me by name.’

Benedict didn’t know. Michael, who found the magician Ruth, whom he disliked, seemed intimate with Benedict. That, in turn, made Michael also uncomfortable, as the relationship seemed too familiar.

Ignoring Benedict’s words, Michael urged him to get up.

“Like the Mausoleum’s magician, your stamina seems quite lacking. Please get up.”

“You’re not an instructor, so don’t tell me what to do… Criticisms are enough coming from Ruth and the spirits.”

While Benedict grumbled, spirits gathered around him, chattering as usual.

【Is Ben in a bad mood these days?】