EIYTMA Chapter 1

The bride set to marry the marquis was just twenty years old.  

 

It was already known that her family was of humble status and poor.  

 

However, the domain of Lord Querluxia was even more decrepit than Ezekiel had expected.  

 

Aside from the small moat beyond the castle walls, the building barely deserved to be called a castle. The method of construction—using large and small stones tightly wedged together—was a story over a hundred years old. Over time, gaps had formed, and the wind whistled through them.  

 

Instead of people, a couple of chickens roamed the cramped castle courtyard, stretching their necks.  

 

In one corner, there was a small stable housing only an old, worn-out horse. A single well stood nearby. Even if they had more horses, there wouldn’t be enough space to keep them all in this narrow courtyard—so in a way, it was a practical decision.  

 

To put it nicely, the place was rustic. To put it bluntly, it was beyond shabby, nearly dilapidated.  

 

And today, in front of that rundown castle, stood a crowd of people who looked entirely out of place.  

 

Twelve Holy Knights of Udahl, god of storms and thunder.  

 

Two extravagant carriages.  

 

A few attendants, clearly serving someone of importance, and a well-dressed middle-aged man.  

 

Among them, a particularly small-looking woman was bidding farewell to her family.  

 

“Lady Iris, you must stay healthy. And Young Master Henri as well.”  

 

“You too, Madame Babin. Stay well.”  

 

The woman, called Iris, wore a beautiful, high-quality gown, but it didn’t quite suit her.  

 

That was only natural. The dress had not been made for her.  

 

Ezekiel already knew that the gown had been thrown to the imperial seamstresses months ago, as if it were an act of charity by the princess. Somehow, it had been altered and fitted to Iris.  

 

“Madame Babin, don’t worry. I will protect my sister.”  

 

Iris’s younger brother spoke boastfully. The tearful nanny scoffed as if unimpressed.  

 

“Oh, my. Worry about yourself first, Young Master Henri.”  

 

“Ugh! Nanny!”  

 

The boy stomped his foot, a clear sign of the close bond between them.  

 

However, no one seemed to realize that these prolonged goodbyes were delaying the departure.  

 

Of course, the lined-up Holy Knights were so accustomed to waiting through lengthy ceremonies that they didn’t mind.  

 

Eventually, the middle-aged man cleared his throat and stepped forward.  

 

“Ahem. Lady Querluxia, your farewells seem to be taking quite some time.”  

 

“Ah, I apologize, my lord.”  

 

The woman flinched and bowed to the marquis,  offering her apology. The man, referred to as the marquis, waved a hand dismissively and smiled.  

 

“It’s okay. It is good to have a close relationship with one’s servants. However, I worry that the Holy Knights standing by the well may find this quite taxing.”  

 

“What utter nonsense.”  

 

Shanka,  one of Udahl’s proud Holy Knights, muttered his thoughts under his breath.  

 

Ezekiel, keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead, spoke in a low voice.  

 

“Be quiet.”  

 

“Honestly, even Udahl himself wouldn’t fault me if he struck that man with lightning. I mean, seriously. They look like father and daughter. A daughter.”  

 

Despite Ezekiel’s warning, Shanka’s words weren’t necessarily wrong. The woman, said to be just twenty years old, still had a youthful, childlike face.  

 

In contrast, the Marquis was a middle-aged man over forty. Perhaps due to his use of magic, his hair had already turned completely white. And yet, the two of them were—  

 

“I am pleased. My future wife seems to have a kind heart.”  

 

—set to be married.  

 

The situation was simple and all too common.  

 

Kazakov, a water mage renowned across the entire continent, had been granted both a marquisate and land in exchange for serving the Emperor.  

 

The cost of employing a mage was always exorbitant. And one who could freely manipulate water? That was nothing short of a living miracle. No one could object to the Emperor granting him a title and territory.  

 

However, the mage demanded one more thing—he wanted a princess as his bride.  

 

The sixteen-year-old princess fainted upon hearing this. She wept and wailed for three days and nights, declaring she would rather die than marry an old mage.  

 

Eventually, the Emperor, after much deliberation, devised a plan. He would adopt a daughter from a minor noble family and send her in place of the princess.  

 

After careful selection, they found a girl from a household so insignificant that none could rival it in obscurity.  

 

Iris Querluxia. Her father had received a barony  thirty years ago after throwing himself in the way to break the Emperor’s fall.  

 

However, the Querluxia estate had no farmland, making it destitute. Worse yet, the barony was a single-rank title, meaning that technically, his daughter wasn’t even considered nobility. It was said that she had reached twenty without ever being engaged.  

 

At first, the mage was displeased. But after seeing a portrait of her, he agreed. The silver-haired woman was breathtakingly beautiful.  

 

His frail health prevented him from traveling much, yet he personally insisted on going to fetch his bride from her distant territory. The Emperor, delighted, granted a generous dowry as her adoptive father.  

 

Thus, both the mage and the woman stood to gain from the arrangement.  

 

…Perhaps.  

 

“If you’re forty, isn’t that old enough to be dead already? He’s forcing himself all the way here to marry a twenty-year-old, and now he’s rushing her farewells with her family? What a joke.”  

 

Clearly, Shanka had a different opinion.  

 

Ezekiel shot him another warning glance.  

 

“Enough.”  

 

Normally, Shanka would have kept going for at least ten more sentences. But, perhaps realizing the mood, he held his tongue. Ezekiel turned his gaze forward once more.  

 

“In any case, we have a long journey ahead. It would be best to depart soon.”  

 

Unbothered by their conversation, the Marquis wrapped an arm around the young woman’s shoulders. She flinched and, as if instinctively, glanced toward Ezekiel.  

 

Though Ezekiel knew she was looking at him, he deliberately ignored it, casting his gaze past her instead.  

 

She blinked twice in a daze before dropping her eyes to the ground. Her younger brother, displeased, glared up at the Marquis. But the Marquis only laughed heartily and patted the boy’s shoulder as well.  

 

“Henri, was it? I heard your health is delicate. I have prepared a fine carriage for my bride’s younger brother. Why don’t you try it out?”  

 

“O-oh… Should I?”  

 

The boy was just thirteen years old. The Marquis had brought two carriages—one four-horse carriage for himself, and a six-horse carriage for the bride and her brother.  

 

Henri’s eyes immediately sparkled at the sight of the six-horse carriage.  

 

“Wow! The horses look amazing!”  

 

“Haha, I chose fine ones for the journey.”  

 

This time, it wasn’t Shanka who spoke, but Milena, standing beside him.  

 

“Tch. Ten horses. Dragging along two massive carriages. And he thinks that’s a good thing? Who the hell is supposed to guard all that?”  

 

Milena rarely spoke at moments like this, but even he seemed displeased with the Marquis’s decision.  

 

And rightfully so.  

 

Twelve Holy Knights alone had to guard two enormous carriages. No one would find that ideal.  

 

Shanka muttered under his breath in exasperation.  

 

“This is begging, not escort duty. Oh, great Udahl, please grant us knights some mercy.”  

 

“Even if we bust our backs earning money, the priests just take it all anyway.”  

 

“And we can’t exactly pray for Udahl to smite all the priests, can we?”  

 

Ezekiel shot them both a sharp glare, silencing them immediately.  

 

But in truth, he shared their frustration.  

 

The Temple of Udahl had only dispatched twelve knights. Even if they included the ten temple guards and six squires, that only totaled twenty-eight men.  

 

Could they really protect two carriages with that number?  

 

When the Marquis had announced he would bring a carriage, Ezekiel had assumed it would be a single four-horse carriage at most. That was a mistake.  

 

No wonder he didn’t reveal the size of the convoy until right before departure.

 

But now, it was too late to refuse to set out just because of the extra baggage.  

 

While Ezekiel was lost in thought, the Marquis helped Henri into the carriage and then approached with his future bride.  

 

The Marquis carried the typical arrogance of mages. Extending a wrinkled hand, he offered a handshake.  

 

“I entrust this journey to you, Sir Ezekiel.”  

 

Strictly speaking, a mage like him had no right to address Ezekiel by name so casually. But Ezekiel simply inclined his head without comment.  

 

“Yes, my lord.”  

 

“They say you are Udahl’s most favored knight. I trust you will ensure my bride has a safe and pleasant journey.”  

 

“I will do my utmost.”  

 

Ezekiel’s curt response made the Marquis smile faintly before stepping back. He then gestured toward the silver-haired woman beside him, Iris Querluxia.  

 

She had been staring blankly at Ezekiel. Realizing it too late, she flinched and quickly bowed.  

 

“I-I look forward to your guidance. Um…”  

 

Her voice trembled too much. From a distance, she had seemed composed, but up close, she still had the air of a young girl.  

 

“You may call me Sir Ezekiel.”  

 

“…Sir Ezekiel.”  

 

The bride-to-be forced a smile.  

 

For a fleeting moment, a shadow of sorrow passed through her deep blue eyes, like a winter lake.  

 

Once, those eyes had shone more brilliantly than anything else.  

 

“Thank you.”  

 

“Yes.”

 

The old man wore a dissatisfied expression. Was it because his young fiancée had smiled at a young knight?

 

However, upon hearing the words the marquis spoke to the woman after turning away, it became clear that was not the reason.

 

“You are now to become the wife of Kazakov. Do not carelessly say ‘thank you’ to others. Understood?”

 

“Ah….”

 

“Since becoming a magician, I, Kazakov, have never once said ‘thank you’ to anyone, not even to His Majesty the Emperor…”

 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

 

Watching the old man reprimand the woman to an embarrassing degree in front of others, Milena scoffed.

 

“What an impressive magician.”

 

It was obvious why he was doing this in front of the knights. He simply wanted to assert his pride before the servants of the gods.

 

Shanka loudly blew his nose and stuffed the handkerchief into his waistband.

 

“I’d love to see if he’d still refuse to say thank you even if the fairies of Mount Aspel came down.”

 

“Enough.”

 

Milena sneered.

 

“And what if that marquis ends up capturing the fairy queen?”

 

“Even a magician couldn’t pull that off.”

 

Ezekiel silenced their bickering with a mere gesture.

 

“Stop talking. We don’t have time. Since the marquis has brought two carriages, we need to minimize our own.”

 

“Yep. What do we do?”

 

“Send one of the two supply wagons back to the temple and reduce the food supplies to the bare minimum. And…”

 

Shanka, who had been making sarcastic remarks just moments ago, quickly changed his attitude. Milena shrugged and ordered one of the squires to organize the carriage and reduce the luggage. Soon, the squires and temple guards were bustling about.

 

Ezekiel glanced toward the marquis’s side. The marquis had already boarded his grand carriage and was nowhere to be seen. Instead, the young woman was struggling to lift the heavy hem of her gown while attempting to climb into the carriage.

 

A maid rushed over and lifted the lady’s dress for her. The woman smiled brightly and seemed to offer words of thanks.

 

Ezekiel turned his head away again.

 

They would only be traveling together for a couple of months—this magician and the woman.

 

Whether they appeared like a father and daughter or whether the magician scolded her harshly was none of his concern.

 

In the first place, it wasn’t something he could concern himself with.

 

Beyond his line of sight, the woman’s nanny was watching him. When their eyes met, she gave a silent bow. Ezekiel returned the gesture.

 

“Depart.”

 

There was no need for grand words when leaving.