It was no wonder Kaster had asked the question. In truth, both he and Ophelia had assumed that once Blake revealed the true nature of their charge, he would adopt a policy of **keeping a low profile**—avoiding any unnecessary attention from the Zachary family until they safely reached their destination. But now, they finally understood: this young lord had never once considered traveling incognito. Come to think of it... he had never actually said he would, either.
Ophelia was already accustomed to Blake's unconventional way of doing things. Once the realization hit her, she simply fell silent, choosing not to press the matter further. Kaster, however, was left feeling rather frustrated. He thought he had finally gotten a handle on this lord's personality—but in hindsight, he might have been better off remaining in the dark. Dealing with someone who enjoyed playing with words and twisting meanings so skillfully was enough to make anyone feel at a loss.
Considering Blake's formidable strength, his potential as a threat was self-evident.
But Kaster knew there was no turning back now. He was well aware that Blake had displayed his power partly as a warning—to remind them not to make any foolish moves. Any idiotic schemes Kaster might have entertained earlier were now firmly discarded. He had no desire to pit himself against a High Swordsman. While he was a soldier, he had never sworn an oath of fealty to the Byrd family, nor did he feel any particular loyalty toward them. He certainly had no intention of following in the footsteps of those brainless Zachary guards and rushing headlong into disaster.
In fact, Kaster's decision to abandon any plans of treachery was partly influenced by Viscount Wynn himself. From the moment Blake had first revealed his strength, Kaster had been suspicious. How could someone as shrewd as Viscount Wynn—no mere incompetent noble scion, but a core member of the Byrd family—have failed to recognize the young lord's true power? Kaster refused to believe that Viscount Wynn had been ignorant of Blake's abilities. There was only one plausible explanation: he and his men had been sent here to be **sacrificed**. It was entirely possible that Viscount Wynn had long since seen through Blake's strength but had lacked a legitimate excuse to move against him. So instead, he had sent Kaster to provoke Blake, hoping that any incident that followed would give the Byrds a pretext to take action. Perhaps they even hoped to recruit this promising young High Swordsman into their ranks.
Kaster had spent years working for the Byrd family, and he had seen more than his fair share of the underhanded deals and political machinations that went on among the upper echelons of nobility. But that did not mean he was willing to be used as a pawn in their games. After all, his life was his own to lose!
This realization filled Kaster with a sudden surge of defiance. If Blake had shown his strength to warn them to behave, then it was very likely he intended to take them under his wing. So why not swear allegiance to this young lord instead? The Byrds had already cast them aside as expendable tools—they would show the family that they were not to be trifled with! You want to sacrifice us? Fine. Then we will become this lord's subordinates and turn the tables on you. What makes the Byrd family so great? Just because they are a powerful noble house, do they think they can dispose of people like garbage? We are not slaves—we are swordsmen!
If Viscount Wynn could have heard Kaster's thoughts at that moment, he would have been left utterly speechless. But alas, he was nowhere to be found, and had no way of knowing what Kaster was thinking.
"My Lord," Kaster said, his tone now devoid of any hint of disrespect. He bowed his head respectfully. "If there is anything we can do to serve you, please do not hesitate to give the order."
"I have no need for your services at the moment," Blake replied, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he noticed the shift in Kaster's attitude. He did not possess the ability to read minds, but he had seen the dark, calculating look that had crossed Kaster's face earlier. Whether Kaster was putting on an act or not, it seemed he had at least learned to make the right choice for now.
"For the time being, you need only focus on fulfilling your original duties. Is that understood?"
"Yes, my Lord. We will see to it at once."
Kaster detected the note of dismissal in Blake's voice and felt a twinge of disappointment. But he quickly reminded himself that they were still, technically, agents of the Byrd family. It was only natural that Blake would be wary of them. This mission, however, presented the perfect opportunity to prove their worth. If they could carry out their duties with distinction, perhaps they could change the young lord's opinion of them. With that thought in mind, Kaster said no more, nodded respectfully, and turned to leave.
"Interesting developments indeed," Blake murmured, watching Kaster's retreating figure with an amused smile. From the change in Kaster's tone, he could tell that the man who had once been plotting against him had now made a decision of some kind. Not that Blake minded—if these men were truly willing to swear allegiance to him, he would be happy to take them in. Though it did mean that the dinner he had planned to prepare for Judy and the others would have to be put on hold.
Oh well, there would be plenty of time for that later.
With that thought, Blake dismissed the matter from his mind, pushed open the door, and stepped into the room.
"My Lord—do you truly believe him?" Ophelia asked, watching him with a curious glint in her eye. She had, of course, overheard the conversation between Blake and Kaster. The sudden shift in Kaster's attitude did not surprise her in the least. People were inherently driven by self-interest, after all. It was much like how she herself had been treated when she had disguised herself as a wandering scholar. While people had paid her attention, it had never been out of genuine respect. But the moment she had revealed her identity as a princess, those who had previously kept their distance had suddenly swarmed around her with eager, obsequious smiles. At first, Ophelia had found it difficult to adapt to this change. But she had eventually come to accept it as an unavoidable part of life. After all, kindness and good intentions alone were not enough to get things done. Without power and status to back them up, even the best-laid plans would come to nothing.
She recalled how, in her past life, she had once tried to help a small village in her guise as a scholar. But the village elder had received her offers of assistance with nothing more than cold politeness, repeatedly rebuffing her efforts. It was only later, when she had returned to the village in her capacity as a princess to conduct an inspection, that the elder had suddenly become overflowing with enthusiasm, pouring out all the requests and grievances he had previously kept hidden. It was then that Ophelia had realized: if she had remained a simple wandering scholar, she would never have been able to solve the village's problems. Only by wielding the authority and influence of her royal title could she make a real difference. That experience had been a pivotal moment in her growth, teaching her to distinguish between those who approached her with genuine need and those who sought only to exploit her status. As for which category Kaster belonged to... the princess was not yet certain.
People changed, after all.
"It does not matter whether I believe him or not," Blake shrugged, "He does not expect us to trust him immediately, anyway."
"Sometimes, keeping others at arm's length is the kindest thing you can do for them."
Ophelia let out a resigned sigh. This was far from the first time she had heard Blake utter such cryptic, counterintuitive statements. In the past, she might have argued with him about it. But now, she had simply learned to accept that his way of thinking was vastly different from her own. Whether his words held any truth was something only the gods could judge.
"Have you prepared yourself for the nobles who will undoubtedly come calling, then?" she asked, changing the subject. "This may be a small town, but word of what happened in the inn will spread like wildfire. It will not be long before they come knocking at our door."
"Let them come," Blake replied nonchalantly. "I have nothing to hide. Besides..."
His voice trailed off for a fraction of a second, his gaze falling on Ophelia, who had just turned around and pulled off her cloak, revealing her slender, graceful figure beneath. Her hands were already moving to unfasten the buttons of her outer robe, showing no signs of stopping.
"...I have already revealed my true strength. No matter how much they speculate, they will never be able to guess my real identity."
Blake's pause was fleeting. In the next moment, he had regained his usual composure and calm. He answered Ophelia's question as he casually pulled out a chair and sat down, his eyes fixed on the young woman before him with undisguised appreciation.
"You are quite right," Ophelia said, completely oblivious to his gaze. She continued to remove her outer robe, her mind focused entirely on the matter at hand. "Even the Byrd family, once they receive word of your true power, will surely think twice before attempting to cross you. But tell me, my Lord—do you really know Archmage Laribaud?"
"There is... a small connection between us," Blake replied, his eyes narrowing as he drank in the sight of her. Her skin was as smooth and pale as fine porcelain, her delicate shoulders and slender waist forming a perfect, alluring silhouette against the cascade of her violet hair. She was truly a vision of beauty, captivating enough to make anyone lose themselves in the moment.
"But these trivial matters are not worth worrying about right now. Miss Ophelia—would you care to accompany me on a stroll through the town? I doubt you had much of an appetite after the commotion in the inn hall. We could find a quiet little place to enjoy a nice meal together."
"I would be delighted to accept your invitation," Ophelia nodded, a faint smile touching her lips as she replied. "Please give me just a moment to change my clothes, and then..."
Her voice suddenly died away, and she froze mid-movement. It was as if she had only just become aware of her surroundings. Her hands, which had been frozen in mid-air, began to tremble slightly, and a faint, becoming blush rose to her cheeks, painting them a lovely shade of pink.
"My Lord—you..."
"Hmm? Do not worry about it," Blake said, feigning innocence. "I do not mind at all."
"But I mind!" she exclaimed, her voice rising in embarrassment. "Please—will you step outside for a moment?!"
"Very well then," Blake sighed, holding up his hands in surrender. He stood up and walked toward the door.
He had never imagined that the ever-poised and composed princess could be capable of such an adorably flustered reaction. It was truly a sight to behold. While the "uniform incident" from days past had already hinted that there was a softer, more vulnerable side hidden beneath Ophelia's sharp, capable exterior, he had never guessed that this was what it would look like...
Though, he had to admit, her figure was absolutely exquisite.
*Bang!*
Just as Blake was lingering on the memory of the beautiful sight he had just beheld, the door he had just closed suddenly swung open again. Standing there was Ophelia, dressed in an elegant gown that was a far cry from her usual scholarly attire. She fixed Blake with a gaze that was equal parts shy and annoyed—but there was no denying the stunning effect of her new outfit. The dress was one she had "discovered" in the wardrobe of the old castle; while the style was somewhat outdated, it suited her perfectly, accentuating her graceful figure and making her look positively radiant.
"Is all this really necessary just to go out for a meal?" Blake asked, feigning astonishment as he stared at her.
"This is for your sake, my Lord," Ophelia replied through gritted teeth, her tone laced with mock sweetness. "Surely a lord of your noble status does not intend to appear before the local nobility dressed in *that*, do you?"
"Truly, you are the perfect deputy," Blake said, his expression as calm and unruffled as ever—as if the awkward incident from moments ago had never happened at all. "You always understand my intentions so perfectly. Please wait just a moment—I will be right back."
"Lord Blake!" Ophelia called out, a note of exasperation in her voice as she watched him turn to leave. She knew, logically, that the incident had not been entirely his fault. But the memory of the amused glint in his eyes as he had watched her was enough to make her cheeks burn with embarrassment all over again. She hesitated for a moment before asking, "Why... why did you not say anything earlier?"
"Say anything?" Blake turned to look at her, tilting his head in a gesture of innocent confusion.
"Earlier—when I was changing my clothes!" Ophelia's voice grew quieter with each word, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink. She knew she had made a fool of herself in front of Blake more than once already. But could he not have at least acted like a proper gentleman for once?
"It is considered extremely impolite to speak while a lady is changing," Blake replied promptly, as if stating the most obvious fact in the world.
"Especially when the lady in question is as beautiful as you are. As a man of good breeding, the only polite thing to do was to observe quietly."
That was his defense?! And besides—had he not been talking to her the entire time?! How was that "observing quietly"?!
Ophelia felt her face grow hot with indignation, and she opened her mouth to retort. But before she could get a single word out, Blake had bowed deeply, executing a perfect, elegant noble's salute. Then, with a quick, almost mischievous grin, he slipped into his own room and closed the door behind him.
"Lord Blake!" Ophelia cried out, equal parts angry and flustered. But in the end, she could do nothing but let out a long, defeated sigh and lower her head.
She was well aware of her own tendency to be a little scatterbrained at times. She had always taken great care to hide this side of herself from others, allowing it to show only when she was in the company of those she trusted implicitly. So why, then, did she always find herself slipping up so badly whenever she was around this young man?
With a frustrated shake of her head, Ophelia pushed these confusing and unsettling thoughts to the back of her mind.
For now, she told herself, she needed only to focus on doing her duty.