Kennard couldn’t bring himself to confess his subterfuge. Each encounter with Elena ignited an unexplained surge of anger within him. No, he knew the source all too well. Her amnesia, her intent to leave the castle, her proclivity for danger without seeking his help–all these elements stoked not just anger but a fiery rage.
Whenever Hazel treated Elena with disrespect, an overwhelming desire to twist her neck surged within him. Yet, he feigned ignorance, secretly hoping Elena would turn to him rather than acting independently.
If that happened, whether Hazel was the duke’s daughter or a contender for marriage proposed by His Majesty, Kennard could have ended her life right then and there.
“You, the brother of the Baruchella Empire’s emperor and an Archduke overseeing Montefiano, the empire’s largest territory—plus, in recent years, you’ve brought Terra Demorte under your sway. Have you no inkling of the towering expectations people harbor for you?”
Kennard, lost in contemplation, harshly placed the teacup on the desk. The forceful movement caused the tea inside to surge and spill across the surface.
“What does that have to do with me? Just because they harbor expectations, do I have to pander to them? Must I be mindful of what they anticipate? Me? Of all people? I must be out of my mind,” Kennard retorted, his tone defiant.
“Even if you were to imprint yourself on one of the nobility, it wouldn’t satisfy the common folk. Your Majesty undoubtedly carries a nobility that surpasses mine. However, someone like Elena, who is…” Serin continued.
“Serin.” Kennard’s call interrupted him.
At the beckon, Serin fell silent. Kennard, using his fingertips to graze the exposed cuff under his frock, locked eyes with Serin.
“It seems like you’re less noble than me, as you put it.”
“What?”
“It appears you’re about to taste the whip soon,” Kennard remarked, stretching one corner of his mouth into a smile.
Yet, within his pupils, there was no hint of mirth; instead, a chilling glint lingered. Sensing the need to retreat, Serin raised and lowered both eyebrows, closing his mouth in acknowledgment of the looming tension.
A resounding knock echoed through the room, prompting both of them to turn their heads toward the door.
“Come in.”
At Kennard’s invitation, one of the knights who had been out scouting in the forest entered. Though it wasn’t yet time for their return, the urgency in the knight’s hurried breaths suggested pressing matters.
“What’s the matter?” Serin inquired.
“We found traces of blood in the northwest forest, similar to the last time,” the knight reported, catching his breath.
“How many?”
“Two locations in total.”
As the information sank in, Kennard swiftly transformed into a black wolf. Serin and the knight followed suit, morphing into gray wolves. The knight, comparatively smaller in stature, assumed the lupine form alongside Kennard and Serin.
Another knock interrupted the moment, and the door to the adjoining room opened. Lassino entered, holding a silver tray bearing headache medicine and a glass of water.
“Your Grace?”
Kennard cast a brief glance at Lassino before wordlessly heading toward the balcony door. Lassino, still holding the tray, followed.
“Your Grace, please take the medicine before you leave,” he implored.
As Lassino trailed behind, Kennard, accompanied by Serin and the knight, descended from the balcony. Their feet touched the ground with a resonant thud, yet their movements were agile, almost as if traversing the clouds.
***
Kennard surged through the Northwest forest of Terra Demorte, a relentless force driven by urgency. Without the need for guidance from the reconnaissance knight, he tracked the scent of blood and pheromones left by the White Fox Tribe, etching their territorial presence in the wilderness. The knights, despite their determined effort, struggled to match Kennard’s unparalleled speed. Only Serin managed to maintain a pace close to Kennard’s.
The forest, awakening from winter’s grasp, revealed patches of melted snow wherever sunlight caressed the earth. Yet, much of the landscape remained veiled in knee-deep snow. Fortunately, the packed snow in Terra Demorte offered a firm surface, preventing them from sinking too deep with each determined step.
As Kennard, Serin, and the knight darted through the forest, their rapid movements sent snow cascading in all directions. The normally tranquil woods sporadically erupted with the startled flight of birds, their wings disrupting the otherwise silent realm. Moonlight struggled to pierce the darkness, casting the forest in shadows.
How far had they traversed this frozen terrain? As they neared the northwest border, the distinct pheromones of Kennard’s subordinates brushed against their senses. Soon, they arrived at the location where the subordinates awaited.
Recognizing Kennard’s unique pheromones, the kneeling knights lined the path they had taken. As Kennard passed by in his wolf form, each knight rose to their feet. Transforming back into his human form, Kennard continued, and the knights followed suit, falling into step behind him.
