Turning Chapter 1027

It wasn’t just Duke Peletta who silenced the doubters. The rumors surrounding his aide, the new Swordmaster Nathan Zuckerman, played just as large a role.

And when you added to that the feats of Yuder Aile, the hero who saved the West, and the achievements of the rest of the Cavalry members, it was only natural that children like Filevan were beside themselves with excitement.

In truth, Priscilla wasn’t the type to get swayed by stories like these—but when among the “other members” were beloved blood relatives, things were different.

Even if the names Fruelle van Ta-in and Nipolen van Ta-in weren’t listed directly among the famed warriors who performed miraculous feats, they had undoubtedly been part of the effort to save the South. Priscilla had reread the letters Fruelle had sent from the South with Nipolen more times than she could count.

Nipolen, who had met the heir of House Hern and greeted him. Nipolen, who said he had met a cat friend in the desert. Fruelle, who described the absurd mishaps he experienced while training to strengthen his shapeshifting abilities. Fruelle, who confessed he was in love with the Cavalry’s deputy commander and was too nervous to speak properly, despite usually being sharp and composed.

Just from the letters alone, it was clear how comfortably and meaningfully these two, once considered the “painful fingers” of the family, were now living their lives in the Cavalry. That was reason enough for Priscilla van Ta-in to endure all the hardship required to hold the family together.

‘Yes. That alone is enough.’

The carriage began to move. The wide avenues of the Third Wall flashed past the window. Watching the scene, Piriam suddenly grinned and spoke.

“People who don’t like the Cavalry must be hating today. Like Father, for example, sitting in prison.”

Through the window, the faint silhouette of the Regien Tower came into view—where their father, the Duke of Ta-in, was imprisoned. Priscilla looked in that direction and responded in a tone devoid of sympathy.

“Yes. For that man, today must be a nightmare. But not for us.”

“I hope he gets even more furious—just enough to match what he did to us.”

Just then, Filevan, who had been half-listening while hanging on the window on the opposite side, let out a surprised noise.

“Sister! Look over there—there are a ton of temple carriages going by! Where do you think they’re headed?”

Turning her head, Priscilla saw a procession of temple carriages rushing in the opposite direction. Her eyes narrowed.

“That’s... they’re headed to the Apeto estate.”

“Apeto?”

“The heir, First Prince Eishes, seems to be rapidly declining. No matter how much they try to hide it, if they’re borrowing the temple’s power this frequently, it can’t stay secret.”

The current Duke of Apeto had disappeared under the pretense of recuperation, and only Eishes’s whereabouts were known. After seizing the position of heir, Eishes had grown so feeble that he now summoned temple healers daily.

According to information leaking into House Ta-in, he was desperately seeking a way to cure himself—but no matter what he tried, nothing worked. In fact, the more he tried to treat himself, the worse his condition became. Now, he spent most of his time bedridden and reportedly suffered seizures several times a day.

Despite that, he was supposedly insisting that preparations be made for a formal succession ceremony. But in reality, even on a day like this, he couldn’t voice a single opinion and was reduced to urgently summoning priests.

As Priscilla watched the backs of the retreating temple carriages, a detached thought crossed her mind.

‘A succession ceremony? He won’t even last until spring.’

The scent of death was already thick over House Apeto. Those who worked there didn’t dare say it aloud, but there were widespread whispers that what they were preparing wasn’t a succession ceremony—but a funeral.

Would Eishes Shan Apeto really be able to send out invitations to commemorate his victory? To Priscilla, it seemed far more likely that those invitations would end up being reused for his funeral.

‘If he dies... what happens next?’

The current Duke of Apeto was almost certainly not alive. And if Eishes were to die suddenly, there was only one person qualified to inherit the title next.

Revlin Shan Apeto, who was currently serving in the Cavalry.

‘According to my brother, Revlin was quite content with the current situation. Even though House Apeto had repeatedly sent people to secretly ask him to return, he refused every time.’

It was probably because of the boy he publicly acknowledged as his lover—Dandenion. A commoner. An Awakener. And another man. For those two to stay together, the Cavalry was, in many ways, the best possible place.

But while staying with the Cavalry might be safe for now, what about the future? If Eishes died and Revlin didn’t return, someone from a collateral branch would inevitably take the title.

If that person was mentally sound, it might be fine. But that seemed highly unlikely—meaning Revlin would face another wave of threats from that moment on. From the moment Eishes died, and for the rest of his life. Whether he would still choose not to return, or ultimately decide to go back, no one could say.

‘If it were me, I’d return. Unless I had no one to protect, going up when you can is the best strategy. With Eishes gone, the biggest threat would be conveniently removed—there’s no better opportunity.’

Priscilla had also made her current choice for the sake of protecting her siblings. Fruelle seemed to feel guilty sometimes, thinking he’d dropped his burdens while she continued to shoulder hers—but she had no regrets.

It wouldn’t be honest to say it wasn’t difficult, but this position had its own joys and rewards. Outmaneuvering foolish enemies, humiliating them, getting revenge on her father directly—and using the power she gained to protect the people she cherished—this suited her just fine.

‘If you really want to protect someone, this is the way. But maybe he doesn’t think like me.’

Judging from Fruelle’s most recent letter, it seemed Revlin still didn’t know that Eishes Shan Apeto’s health had deteriorated this badly. He’d find out whether he wanted to or not once they returned today.

‘The Apeto people probably think that if they bring Revlin back, he’ll still be young enough to manipulate. But what will they say when that “young boy” returns as a hero—a member of the celebrated Cavalry?’

House Ta-in’s carriage passed indifferently by the Apeto estate. Priscilla ended her thoughts about the other family there. What mattered now was the Cavalry’s arrival—and the return of her precious blood relatives.

“The Cavalry is coming!”

“Woooooo!”

Colored paper rained down like confetti, and deafening cheers erupted. The Cavalry members were momentarily stunned by the overwhelming energy, but soon their faces lit up with joy as they responded to the cheers.

“Wow... what is even happening?”

“All those people came out just to see us?”

“Wasn’t the official welcoming ceremony supposed to be tomorrow?”

Of course, this wasn’t the official ceremony. But the sheer number of people gathered and the fluttering of colored paper that they’d brought themselves made it feel even grander.

‘From the look of things, it might as well already be summer, not winter.’

They were throwing paper because it was winter, but if this were spring, they’d surely be scattering flower petals. As Yuder followed behind Kishiar, he looked up at the sky. The temperature was certainly lower than in the South, but with no wind blowing, it didn’t feel very cold. The weather was so sunny and clear, it really felt as if spring had already come.

Originally, they had planned to ride the carriages straight to their destination without getting out like this. But the cheers # Nоvеlight # were so intense that Kishiar had decided to stop the carriages and have everyone walk for a while.

“There’s no way we can just pass through like this. Let’s all get out and walk at least as far as where the Prime Minister is waiting. Is that alright?”

It didn’t suit Yuder’s personality—but for everyone’s sake, it was the right call. Wearing his hat low, Yuder glanced at the faces of his comrades, who were unable to hide their joy. But of all those faces, the one that captured his gaze was Kishiar—calmly waving to the crowd, drawing every eye to himself.

“That’s Duke Peletta himself!”

“The Swordmaster who split the sea—even General Gino acknowledged him!”

“The new bearer of the Divine Sword!”

It was no exaggeration to say that eight out of ten people gathered here had their eyes fixed on him.

He wore nothing extravagant—yet with nothing more than a smile and a walk, the man captivated them all.