‘Considering our last encounter, it’s highly likely that the Viscountess will come looking for me.’
Viscount Ida appeared alone, without his family, in a rush to greet his guest.
While this meant he lost the chance to naturally accompany the Viscountess to the training grounds, it didn’t matter much to him.
Just as he was assessing the other party, the other party was observing him closely.
Even without leaving any obvious hints, the Viscountess would likely show up at the appropriate moment on her own accord.
After exchanging pleasantries with Viscount Ida, Iona parted ways with the group and headed toward the training grounds.
Jonas and Fin stayed by Leroy’s side, while two knights and Yulia followed behind Iona.
At the front was a servant of the Ida household, tasked with guiding them by the Viscount’s order.
Glancing at the distance between them, Yulia leaned toward Iona and whispered softly, “Are you really planning to teach the Viscount’s son?”
“I’ll put on a show, at least.”“Even that’s a more than generous act of kindness. It’s been rumored for ages that Dieter only roams about, relying on his inheritance.”
So the Viscount’s son was named Dieter.
She’d been introduced to him once, but had almost forgotten due to her lack of interest.
At least now, she wouldn’t have to awkwardly address him with vague terms like ‘hey you’ or ‘that guy.’
“A person who avoids studying and only pretends to be a knight-in-training… says it all, doesn’t it?”
Yulia scoffed, offering a scathing critique.
Though her words carried a tinge of bias, Yulia wasn’t the type to report falsehoods just to blind Iona to the truth.
Iona judged that her words were probably not far from reality.
After all, she hadn’t seen much promise in Dieter either.
‘In a way, that’s fortunate.’
It was a relief that the Viscount’s son was an unremarkable wanderer.
If he’d been more capable, he might’ve tried to correct his father’s poor decisions.
And that would’ve been an unwelcome complication for Iona.
“We’ve arrived, Duchess. If you’ll wait here for a moment, I’ll fetch Lord Dieter.”
While they discussed the Viscount’s failed parenting, they had reached their destination.
The outdoor training grounds were wide open, allowing a full view of the area, yet the Viscount’s son was nowhere to be seen.
Yulia’s assessment that Dieter was just pretending to be a knight seemed spot-on.
Iona gave a slight nod to the poor servant who would now have to wander the large estate in search of the young lord.
It was only polite to pretend not to notice such flaws.
“I’ll look around here while you take your time.”
“Thank you for your understanding.”
The servant bowed deeply to Iona before hurrying off.
With their intended meeting partner absent, Iona and her companions were left with nothing to do but wait.
As she watched the servant disappear into the distance, Iona used the excuse of wanting to be alone and began to stroll along the outskirts of the training grounds.
Half of Iona's intention in distancing herself was to avoid Yulia, who had begun to rant furiously about Dieter’s rude behavior.
With her hands behind her back, Iona slowly walked away from the group, lost in thought.
‘The Viscount’s son can be handled easily enough, I’ll just work him to the bone. As for the Viscountess…’
How will she act today?
The Ida estate was near the border with Bardem, the homeland of the Empress.
Even after her marriage and departure from Bardem, Empress Rosalia maintained many connections with her home country, including political funds, unofficial aid, and secret directives that could never see the light of day.
‘Count Schmidt’s downfall came because he uncovered those corrupt dealings.’
Viscount Ida, who had served under Count Schmidt, seized the opportunity and declared his loyalty to the Empress, stepping into the Count’s shoes.
The Empress, knowing that having her influence planted here would make things much easier, willingly appointed Viscount Ida as the next lord of the region.
But even then, she never let down her guard. She had placed an assassin near the Viscount, someone who could eliminate him if he ever showed signs of betrayal.
The only problem was, Iona had no idea who that assassin might be.
It was no surprise, of course—she wasn’t one of the Empress’ direct subordinates.
She only learned of the Empress’ plan to keep Viscount Ida in check by overhearing a passing comment from Richard.
‘If it’s someone close enough to kill Viscount Ida at any time, then his wife seems like the most likely candidate.’
Viscountess Carmen had come from Bardem.
She was also a new wife, taken in after Viscount Ida had become the lord of the estate.
Given her background and the timing, she was the most suspicious person.
The question was how to confirm whether she was truly one of the Empress’ agents…
‘If she’s an assassin, she’ll have certain traits that set her apart from ordinary people. It would be ideal if I could confirm whether she’s ever held a sword. Of course, she won’t reveal the truth herself, so I’ll have to provoke her a bit.’
Having reached this conclusion, Iona suddenly stopped walking.
Lost in her thoughts, she had wandered far from the others and ended up at the outskirts of the estate.
But what made her stop wasn’t her sense of direction, but rather the sound of someone’s voice.
Iona followed the sound, approaching a small, makeshift building nearby.
Judging by the low ceiling and shoddy construction, it seemed to be a storage shed for rarely used equipment.
The door was closed, but a small window on the side was open.
White smoke billowed out, and for a moment, Iona thought someone might be smoking, but as she got closer, the smell was far different from what she expected.
‘This stench…’
Iona stifled a bitter laugh.
Dieter was the perfect example of a wealthy, thoughtless noble heir.
It explained why he had seemed so sluggish and incoherent during the previous banquet. The reason was right here.
Iona silenced her footsteps and stood by the window.
She pondered whether to drag Dieter out immediately to shorten their wait or to leave quietly for the sake of Viscount Ida’s dignity.
Suddenly, a conversation inside piqued her interest.
“Ugh… Just thinking about groveling under that woman today makes me feel like crap…”
“Hey, it’s all just, hic, for the sake of socializing. They’ll take it easy, too, right?”
“No, that woman’s no joke with how she keeps people in line. You know Ralph Winter, right? He came down from the capital recently. His brother died… he’s inheriting the family now. Ugh… I feel so damn sad.”
Ralph Winter.
That was a name Iona knew well.
Though he wasn't one of her direct subordinates, Iona had encountered Ralph Winter a few times in passing.
As a seasoned instructor, she had overseen large-scale training exercises, so that’s likely where she had learned his name.
“Anyway, man... she’s a total demon. The other instructors aren’t that bad, but whenever she’s around during training, it’s always hell.”
“What did she do?”
“You know, stuff like drills and formations. If even one person was out of line, she made everyone redo it. They once had to repeat it for four hours straight. How can anyone do the same move for four hours? Seriously, does that even make sense to you?”
“You don’t think she’ll make the young master do the same, do you…?”
“Nah, not that bad, probably. But she’s not just going to overlook sloppy stances either... What if she tells my dad I have no talent?”
“What are you saying, young master? No talent? You? Our idol? That can’t be!”
An idol to druggies, maybe. They were really making a mess of themselves.
Then again, given who was likely funding this little gathering, it wasn’t hard to understand.
“Y-You think so?”
“Of course! What could she possibly teach you? She should be learning from you!”
“Exactly! I mean, remember the rumors before she got married? People were saying she was the Crown Prince’s lover. Always sticking by his side, even on her days off. She probably only got promoted because of that connection, don’t you think?”
The idea that it might be true soured Iona’s mood even more.
A cold smile crept onto her lips.
“Yeah, screw it! I’ll beat that worthless bitch, just you watch.”
“Of course, young master!”
“Show her what you’re made of!”
Their slurred words of encouragement, as they rallied each other in their inebriated state, were almost too pitiful for her to watch.
Iona sighed deeply and stepped directly into the window’s view, arms resting on the frame.
The sight of these fools, sprawled about and raising their fists in some drunken show of solidarity, was now plain to see.
“What time is it, anyway?” one of them asked.
“Huh, no idea. How long have we even been here...?”
“Crap, am I late?”
They still hadn’t noticed Iona, too wrapped up in their conversation to pay attention to their surroundings.
It looked like she would have to make the first move.
Leaning casually against the window frame, she spoke, her voice cutting through the air like a bucket of cold water.
“You’re already late.”
“What? What time is i—"
Dieter turned reflexively toward the sound of her voice, only to freeze in place.
His companions, lips parted in shock, stared blankly at Iona as well.
Iona gave them a small wave, her tone dripping with mock sympathy.
“Too bad. Now you’ll have to come run drills with that ‘worthless bitch.’ Ready?”
--- End Of The Chapter ----
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