# 47
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When the sound of a lowly laugh reached his ears, Grace, who had been looking stubbornly in front of her, finally raised her gaze to the man. Ironfoot began to tilt his head left and right, tearing Grace's features with his gaze.
“Your parents' faces were fine. Your mother was blonde like you, wasn't she? As for the eyes, they looked like your father. But both of them were being pursued by the empire's army. Two thieves, right?
The green eyes on Grace's face grew colder. Ironfoot licked his chapped lips and continued talking.
“Because of the accessory penalty, if the parents are criminals then the children are criminals too, right? Therefore, near the Wall of Death, there are many villages where fugitives hide. If they were caught, the children became criminals in turn. That's why they never mention the family name.”
Then he snorted and rolled his eyes upward like someone performing a theatrical scene.
“But how do they live there? Monsters come out all the time, and the damned cold does not allow any seeds to germinate! Even criminals have to eat to stay alive, right?
Ironfoot turned to the nobles and said in an evasive tone:
“Behind the wall of death, people do not live, and that is why weeds that we have never heard of grow. Most of them are poisonous, but there is a thin line between poison and poison. The risk of crossing the wall may cost a life, but if one returns with something, the profit is plentiful.”
“So, you mean that this woman's parents were crossing the wall of death back and forth?”
“Yes, yes. They were one of them. With the frequent comings and goings, they may have come into contact with what they call “the invisible ones,” who are said to live behind the wall. Anyway, I think this girl's parents are both dead. Isn't that right, Vicky?'
«……»
“When adults ask you, you have to answer, you immoral person. Ts ts! "That's all I know."
As soon as the “Iron Foot” testimony ended, the nobles of the Marquis’ team deliberately raised their voices to direct the atmosphere.
“Then her parents must have allied themves with the group of traitors!”
“Perhaps she made an alliance herf!”
The Marquis placed his hand on his chest with a dignified expression and said in a firm tone:
“Your Highness! The maid who came with this woman disappeared without a trace. We closed all the doors of Richmond and searched inch by inch, but could not find her. Isn't this evidence that she is one of those who cannot be seen? “In addition, the identity of this woman herf is in serious doubt.”
Meanwhile, Ironfoot stumbled around Grace.
Dom Tabak… Dom Tabak.
“Ah... like when you were young, you really look like your mother!” Your half-and-half features are exactly the same.”
The Marquis did not like the man's interference in his plan, but he wanted to ignore him; The more “Iron Foot” acts bay, the more the woman’s reputation falls, and with it the Duke’s reputation.
If it wasn't for that low voice that came from behind.
"mistake."
Doom Tabak.
Iron Foot's steps suddenly stopped, and the Marquis, who was about to speak, also turned around.
"What?"
Ironfoot swung, balancing himf on his good leg, then stared at Grace, his eyebrows furrowed. Despite her pale face, her gaze was sharp, as if she would kill him immediately.
«……»
The moment his eyes met that elderly gaze, he knew something was wrong.
Fraud, theft, and sometimes murder he did everything to stay alive. However, Ironfoot lived by adhering to one rule that he did not deviate from:
Never touch someone who lives ready to be burned with his body.
That is why he never wanted to get involved in anything connected with the Duke; The Duke was of this type.
But the money on offer was obscene. He felt suspicious, yes, but he convinced himf that he was not directly attacking the Duke.
But now…
“I said, ‘Wrong.’”
"…What?"
Grace spoke slowly, as if she were chewing each syllable before pronouncing it:
“I inherited my hair from my father, and my eyes from my mother. “I look more like my father than my mother.”
«……»
“As my ancestors always were.”
There was an incomprehensible heaviness in her low voice. Ironfoot blinked, as if he had been pushed aside by a woman whose body was only half his.
Grace closed her eyes and exhaled a long, slow breath.
“Haaa…”
She felt as if hot blood, like molten iron, spurted from her chest and spread throughout her entire body.
"I don't know you. And you don't know me either.”
In this place, there was only one person who knew her.
When she opened her eyes, she saw Ares watching from afar. Perhaps due to extreme exhaustion, the entire world seemed colorless, as if only black and white filled the vision except for the man sitting on the podium; He alone seemed clearly colored.
Grace walked towards him. Then she stopped in front of the circular stairs leading to the platform, and bowed her knees very politely.
It was a perfect and flawless greeting, as if it were the epitome of the etiquette of the Deccan nobility.
“This...can't be learned in a few days...”
A faint voice emanated from somewhere, and the Marquise's eyes lit up as she stared at the gathering of nobles. As for “Iron Foot,” he was overcome with a bad feeling. He began to play persistently with the cracked skin on his thumb, repeatedly wetting his lips.
Then Grace straightened her bow, looked up at Ares, and said softly:
“Your Highness, I am not that Vicky that this man called Iron Foot is talking about. My real name is Grace.”
“What other lie do you intend to resort to to blind Your Highness? Stop moving your cunning tongue, and withdraw immediately!”
“Marquise Lenco.”
Ares called to her without hiding his impatience.
“We said that the focus of this meeting was to verify Grace’s identity. "We have listened to your opinions so far, shouldn't we listen to the other party as well?"
The Marquise bit her lips angrily, but did not find anything to respond, so she remained silent. When she calmed down, Grace spoke again in a steady tone:
“At Richmond Palace there is someone who knows me. They called him to verify my identity.”
“Who is he?”
The Marquise secretly made fun of Grace and the Duke. Who might show up now to bear witness? It must be Joseph Rexton, who disappeared for days, bringing one of the poor servants in exchange for some money.
But the name that came out of Grace's mouth was not that of a petty servant.
“Edward Lenco.”
The confidence that the Marquise thought was as solid as an ice palace began to melt when she heard the name dearest to her heart.
"…What?"
my son?
The couple stared in amazement, blinking incomprehension. Likewise, the nobles of the Marquis’ team exchanged looks, not believing what they heard.
Grace hid the sarcasm that crept onto her lips, and looked at Ares firmly demanding:
“Summon Edward Lenco, the young marquis. He is the one who will prove my identity.”
＊ ＊ ＊
The Duke's summons reached Edward Linquo at the moment when he was just entering the grand plaza of the Inner Palace.
"truly? I was going to greet him after the meeting ended. Well…»
Edward examined his clothes, and the servant asked him:
“Shall I get you a new cloak?”
“No, this cloak is enough. Just clean the shoes.”
Edward pointed to his dirty shoes from the long journey, so the servant knelt down and carefully cleaned them. As soon as the shoes returned to their color, Edward headed towards the Blue Eagle Hall.
Autumn had settled into Richmond Palace.
In this season, the old oak tree in the middle of the courtyard was producing berries as small as thumbnails, and staining its jagged leaves a deep red. From the gallery surrounding the courtyard, one can feel the wind passing through the tree and flowing over the body.
Even the backyard library is beautiful at this time. In fact, is there a place in this ancient palace that is not beautiful? He loved this place.
Edward spotted the oak tree as he crossed the porch, and saw the acorns hanging down as they did every year. The corner of his lips rose slightly, but as soon as he entered the corridor his gray eyes sank deeply.
From afar, he saw the soldiers who spotted him pulling open the closed doors of the hall. As he approached, he began to steady his breathing.
One day, under the giant cloth banner of the First Marquess, his father said to him:
“Eddie... Sometimes I feel like this place is my home, and sometimes it's not. When I'm here, I feel like I'm floating in the clouds. "Maybe because I love it, but sometimes the emptiness under my feet is annoying."
«……»
“I hope this place truly becomes my home. What about you?"
Edward didn't answer.
His eyes were then fixed on the enormous eagle banner behind his father. Despite his young age, he understood that his father wished for him to be the master of that banner.
But perhaps because she was larger than his father, his wish seemed like a vague, distant dream.
From then on, whenever Edward saw the banner of the First Marquess, one thought came to him:
Can there be a greater human being than that banner?
Can someone make it just a wallpaper?
...No, I wish that didn't happen.