TEWRIT 79

Chapter 79 

Oliver spoke softly:
“Your Highness, Duke Flint has sent a strong letter condemning Duke Rosana. He even included arrowheads from the Rosana family and the uniforms worn by the assassins as proof.”

Eliano nodded slowly. Even if her real kidnapper wasn’t her father, her dramatic rescue reflected badly on his reputation—and she secretly felt satisfied.

But recalling that deep captive voice still sent shivers through her. Flint watched her trembling with worry.

From then on, he sat close beside her in the carriage—on the way to the magic gate and later back to Howard lands. Eliano let him—perhaps the kidnapping was more shocking than she admitted. Though, she thought: following her even to the restroom might be a bit overboard.

Adel, dutiful but silent, insisted she would guard Eliano alone. None were punished for mistakes during the kidnapping—but in the north, everyone still blamed themselves. Oliver looked ashamed whenever he met Eliano’s injured shoulder. Even when she returned his dagger with thanks, he bowed his head.

Yet Eliano felt calm. Having Flint beside her felt reassuring. She even slept leaning on his thigh. At first surprised, he later accepted it—sometimes stroking his hair while reviewing documents.

“Your Highnesses, we’re nearing Count Maurice’s territory,” Gilbert’s voice came from outside. Eliano brightened. This was the site where the magic gate would activate.

The Emperor had decreed the gate open quickly after news of the missing Duchess reached the capital. All scheduled travelers were pushed aside.

“Why didn’t they open it earlier?” Eliano complained.

Flint shrugged gently: “We left the capital in such haste.”

“If you truly care, you could’ve requested the gate open mid‑journey.”

Eliano scoffed. Flint Howard, favored by the Emperor? She rolled her eyes silently.

Flint carefully explained that gates were always booked solid. Even the Emperor wouldn’t easily rearrange all reservations.

“Please,” Flint encouraged. Eliano frowned.

“How could a magic gate—a simple transport—not burden an empire? This is ridiculous.”

Magic gates were common transport: nobles and peasants alike could use them via paid reservation. Lords managed gates locally and could sometimes prioritize travelers—or grant access personally.

The Empire of Bianteca had gates everywhere. The Emperor could activate any gate instantly. So why call that a burden? Eliano seethed inwardly.

Even the Rosana family routinely jump‑cut every lineup when they traveled—yet Flint claims he can’t? She stared at him, green eyes narrowing. Flint’s calm face didn’t betray a flicker.

“I’d like to know which nobles can override Rosana and the Duke of the North.”

Her tone soft, Flint didn’t immediately catch the sarcasm:

“Eliano…” he began again gently.

“I know you could activate the northern gate at will. Stop hiding behind the emperor’s name in front of me.”

Flint blinked. Eliano tapped her lips in annoyance.

Annoying, she thought. Always defending the Emperor—even though that same Emperor forced her to abandon her home, pressure Flint to war, and divide their family lives.

Flint had been sent to battle countless times because the Emperor favored war. Her cousin was held hostage by enemy states, then returned only to be sent back. Did Flint truly defend the Emperor in every war—but leave her to endure it?

She remembered his grand pronouncement: “Lady Howard will be your eyes and ears in the north.” The Emperor scoffed and refused, treating her like a child.

“Take care of your health in the cold north. I don’t know if you’ll come back.”

His tone kind, but meaning clear: stay out of imperial affairs.

Flint had fallen into line—perhaps too well. So Eliano hissed inside: He will never learn what loyalty means.

The carriage halted. They had arrived at the gate. Eliano reclined, closing her eyes—until the carriage door swung open.

Flint helped her out gently.

“Is this your first time using a magic gate? They require identity confirmation before activation,” he explained.

Eliano’s eyes snapped wide. They want to check my identity? A high-ranking noble? Her face burned.

Flint set her foot down outside the carriage, cradling her protectively.

“Don’t worry. You might feel faint—your body is still recovering from the ordeal.”

Eliano’s voice trembled with indignation:

“I’ve never been asked to get out of the carriage to verify identity—even among the highest nobles. Not once.”

Flint hesitated.

She pictured the gate manager fussing over petty details. High nobility never underwent that level of scrutiny—and expected none.

How dare they? Eliano tensed. These individuals would never dare this before her father—or her mother.

Turning to Jane, she ordered: “Bring Oliver.”

Oliver appeared, tired but primed. His expression turned resigned yet attentive.

“Your Highness?”

Eliano confronted him firmly:

“I find it surprising—the younger son of the March of Alvich—watching this? Why must we disembark just to prove who we are?”

Oliver’s face twisted with discomfort. He recognized the injustice—even though once he’d confronted a gate manager in protest.

But here, he bowed his head:

“I… I can’t do anything, my Lady.”

Unspoken: my Lord instructed me to do nothing.

“Elaborate,” Eliano demanded.

Flint leaned in supportively.

“Yes?” he said.

“Let it be known: this gate is opened at the Emperor’s behest.”

Flint added calmly.

“So… you want us to stay quiet to avoid trouble?”

She stared at him, unwavering.

“I’m listening,” Flint replied.