Chapter 26

The female knight Monique Goddard took responsibility for her actions and resigned from her position as vice commander of the Third Order.

While talk of a prospective marriage match seemed to have surfaced within her parental home, the House of Earl Goddard, Monique firmly declined it.

She was reportedly throwing herself into her sword practice, devoting her days to rigorous training.

What kind of path she would walk from here on, Diana had no way of knowing.

Nor, for that matter, did she have the luxury of sparing a thought for anyone else’s life.

After all, today was a wonderfully auspicious wedding day──.

“It suits you remarkably well, My Lady.”

“D-Do you really think so…?”

The voice laced with bewilderment belonged to Diana, clad in her bridal attire.

A softly flowing A-line wedding dress.

Over the strapless bodice, a long-sleeve lace overlay was layered, accentuating a look of pure, modest elegance amidst its breathtaking luxury.

(I wouldn’t exactly say a dress like this suits me…)

Though Sherry showered her with praise, Diana still looked thoroughly uneasy.

Such gorgeous garments were the kind Cordelia always favored.

Though twins, unless they consciously tried to imitate one another, their expressions and the atmospheres they radiated were completely different.

Unconsciously, Diana had always convinced herself that chic and understated attire suited her best.

Ever since when had she started thinking that way──tracing back her memories, she recalled it.

It was from the wedding she had held with Miles in her past life.

Though the design was different, as Diana wore a similarly splendid wedding dress back then, her husband Miles merely nodded in satisfaction and never offered a single word of praise.

And Crown Prince Lawrence, who had attended as an esteemed guest…

“Ho, the elder sister isn’t half bad either, is she?”

With those words, he had implicitly compared Diana and Cordelia right to her face.

(I suppose I’ll probably hear something similar this time around, too…)

He was an unwelcome guest, but he was nonetheless the crown prince of the realm, and a blood relative to Alan.

At a wedding between Alan and Diana, the daughter of a ducal house, there was simply no way not to invite him.

“Come to think of it, have you heard?”

“Eh, heard what?”

“Apparently His Highness the Crown Prince is feeling rather unwell, so they say a messenger has been sent from the royal palace in his stead.”

“Is that so…?”

The news brought by Sherry was welcome tidings indeed to Diana.

(Feeling rather unwell, you say… When he was just hosting a tea party with Cordelia the other day, I find it hard to believe he’s sick at all.)

If it was a feigned illness, then all the better.

Viewed from the perspective of the House of Gazard, having an invitation brushed aside like this might normally be seen as a sign of being looked down upon by the royal family.

But really, what did that matter now?

Far from merely looking down on them, hadn’t they practically directed blatant hostility their way?

While some might interpret the royal family’s slighting of the House of Gazard as an invitation for others to look down upon the ducal house, so be it.

After all, her groom this time was the royal uncle Alan; and even though Alan had stepped down to become a subject, on the surface at least, the ties between the House of Gazard and the royal family had only grown deeper.

(Perhaps offering words of celebration was simply too distasteful for him to stomach.)

Imagining Lawrence’s frame of mind, a natural smile blossomed on Diana’s face.

Suddenly, a knock echoed against the door, dragging her thoughts back to reality.

“My Lady, Lord Alan has arrived.”

“Yes, show him in.”

Sherry spoke through the door, welcoming Alan inside.

Appearing in the bride’s waiting room was Alan, a tall and handsome man clad in a white knight’s dress uniform.

For a fleeting moment, Diana’s eyes were riveted by his dignified and sturdy appearance.

However, Alan’s eyes were wide open in an even greater state of shock.

“Ah…”

If ever there was a moment when someone was truly left speechless, this was it.

Visually, Alan’s cheeks began to flush red.

Clad in a white wedding dress, Diana looked precisely like a moon fairy manifested in the broad daylight.

She looked as though she might vanish the moment he looked away, making it impossible to avert his gaze even for a second.

When Diana tilted her head slightly, the tiny blue flowers woven into her silver hair swayed.

“…Lord Alan?”

Prompted by Diana’s voice, Alan finally snapped back to reality.

“I’m sorry… I simply found myself completely captivated…”

“T-That’s an exaggeration.”

Overwhelmed by Alan’s unreserved words, Diana was taken aback.

Not a whit behind Alan, Diana’s own cheeks were tinged with red.

“Didn’t I tell you so? It suits her wonderfully.”

Told-you-so, Sherry the maid boasted, puffing out her chest.

Being the clever maid she was, she had already known that Alan’s attitude would strike a chord in Diana’s heart far more deeply than any amount of words she could offer.

“Shall we go, Diana?”

Alan extended a large, sturdy hand encased in a white glove.

“Yes.”

Upon stepping out of the bride’s waiting room, they found Wesley, the bride’s father, standing there with an unsettled expression.

Apparently, he had been pacing anxiously back and forth in front of the waiting room the entire time.

Catching sight of Diana, he wore a complex expression that seemed to mix surprise, sorrow, and deep emotional overwhelm.

True to his role as the father of the bride, his emotions were likely too vast to be captured in a single word.

Stumbling over his words before Diana and standing with his head bowed for a moment…

“I have never regretted calling you my friend as much as I do right now, Alan.”

His target shifted entirely to the groom and longtime friend of his.

“Should I start calling you Father as well from now on?”

“Cease this at once!”

Faced with the lighthearted retort, Wesley let out a sound akin to a shriek.

“Oh, Father, really. Lord Alan is about to become my husband, after all. Please refrain from speaking to him with such disrespect.”

“Ehhhh…”

Unable to find the words to bestow upon his breathtakingly lovely daughter, Wesley had instinctively turned to his familiar friend for distraction, only to be promptly struck down and scolded by his own child as well.

“Husband, is it…?”

Alan, on his part, was struck by a completely different kind of shock at Diana’s words, his voice trembling slightly.

With a soft smile blooming at the sight of the two of them, Diana gently withdrew her hand from Alan’s and clasped Wesley’s arm instead.

“Now then, let us go, Father.”

“Ah, ahh…”

Ahead of them lay the church sanctuary, where sunlight streamed through stained-glass windows.

A massive gathering of guests was undoubtedly waiting impatiently for the entrance of the bride and groom.

She walked down the brilliant red carpet leading toward the altar of the sanctuary, accompanied by her father, Wesley.

It was the moment yet another dream, one that had remained unfulfilled in her past life, came true.

“Father.”

“Yes, what is it, Diana?”

Leaning affectionately against Wesley’s shoulder, Diana wore a radiant smile.

“I am going to be happy.”

“…Ah.”

With a soft sniffle, Wesley let out a small noise from his nose.

She had never known until today that her usually steadfast father possessed such a tearful side.

This, too, was something she could discover only because she was able to walk down the aisle together with him.

The grand cathedral was enveloped in thunderous applause and cheers.

While everyone celebrated the new beginning for Diana and Alan, only one person sharing the exact same face as the bride──Cordelia wore a vacant expression, her amethyst eyes gazing blankly into empty space.

“Bah, how utterly aggravating.”

Deep in the dead of night within the Royal Castle.

Unlike the House of Gazard, which was lively with celebrations lasting all through the night, this place was draped in darkness and dead silence.

Though he had declined to attend on short notice under the pretense that he wished to offer no congratulations, the moment he did so, he found himself plagued by various troublesome chores, such as arranging for congratulatory gifts to be delivered instead.

Even if that old codger was merely his uncle, he was still an uncle.

Good grief, what a nuisance──Lawrence exhaled a breath reeking of liquor.

“Sending congratulations makes me sick to my stomach… Damn it, that useless fool Miles!”

(What was that about “taking Diana by force and making her mine”? He failed utterly and ended up treated common as a criminal. I had thought he would make a reasonably useful pawn as a member of the marquisate, and that sending Miles as a bridegroom into the House of Gazard would make him an even more valuable asset, but he was a total miscalculation.)

In stark contrast to his refined appearance, Lawrence’s inner thoughts were boiling with a dark, pitch-black fury.

Amidst the dim chamber, only his blue-green eyes blazed with an eerie, unnatural light.

“In the end, the only one who can actually be of use is Cordelia…”

Lawrence murmured quietly.

The House of Gazard, one of the Five Great Noble Families.

A prestigious lineage dating back to the founding of the kingdom, said to produce individuals gifted with exceptional magical power generation after generation.

Though it was a secret passed down exclusively to the reigning monarch and the heads of the Five Great Noble Families, the five houses and the royal family each possessed a mysterious power of their own.

It was said that as their blood diluted over time, that power weakened as well, but one could never afford to be careless.

After all, that very same Diana Gazard was said to possess an amount of magical power rarely seen in recent history, despite being a woman.

(I do not know precisely what kind of power the House of Gazard holds, but we cannot simply leave them be. Any family holding such power must either be brought entirely under the fold of our royal house or have their bloodline eradicated root and branch.)

Yes, any clan possessing power sufficient to threaten the royal family had to be dismantled entirely.

Just like that House of Pennington, which served as the maternal ancestral home of the royal younger brother.

“There is no telling when someone else might awaken, just as I have awakened…”

Lawrence’s low voice was swallowed up by the darkness of the royal castle.

The fuse of a brand-new conflict was quietly being lit.