Chapter 2: I Am the Only One Beside the Fallen Grand Duke's Daughter

Free Poisoned Holy Grail, Anyone? (2)

Maintaining her place as an heir—

At first, she believed she could do it. That there was nothing she couldn't overcome.

But in the end, Shagallor succeeded in making Abel—the child—heir to the North.

And so, as time passed, Karalin’s thoughts began to change.

Everything’s ruined.

Let it all burn.

The world that made me this way is what’s truly broken.

…Did she really come to think that way?

‘I wasn’t good enough… I was too lacking. That’s why Father came to hate me, why I lost the position to Abel, why the retainers all abandoned me.’

No—

Rather than falling into resentment, she chose self-blame first.

When things go wrong, most people would feel at least some urge to blame others.

But Karalin never did.

All she ever did was repeat: ‘It’s my fault. It’s because I wasn’t good enough.’

A way of thinking that could seem frustrating, even suffocating.

But… she couldn’t bring herself to condemn her father for it.

His brain may have been rotted by lust, but Karalin still admired and respected him.

And what did such a man teach her?

The dignity of noble blood.

And the steadfast spirit of a warrior.

So when things went wrong, she couldn’t just throw the blame on others.

She couldn’t simply chalk it up to the times. No matter how much it hurt, how miserable she felt, she had to endure it.

Because that—

That was the duty of nobility, and the heart of someone born with privilege.

Then it happened.

“My Lady, get a hold of yourself! The entire place is going up in flames! You must break through now!”

“…Goddamn it!!”

She was shaken—clearly not herself.

But the moment she heard Yohan’s urgent voice at her side, her focus snapped back.

Karalin spurred her horse with all her might and broke through the line of defense.

And just as expected—

Moments later, searing dragonfire rained down from above.

The wyverns overhead unleashed their flame breath, scorching and boiling everything in its path, even if they were just lesser dragons.

Chaaaaa—!!

But just before the inferno could swallow them whole, Karalin and Yohan cast frost magic in time to save themselves.

This was a killing field.

A battlefield where death was the only certainty.

Maybe not today, but days, months, years from now, no one survived long on this front line.

If Karalin herself were the commanding officer, she would’ve abandoned this front altogether, focusing instead on quick maneuvers and intercepting the wyverns from a distance.

But her father didn’t want that.

‘Karalin, I’ll give you the cavalry. Break through the front head-on.’

‘B-But Father…’

‘I raised you to be the kind of person who could do this. Surely you’re not about to speak of impossibilities, are you?’

‘…No, sir. I, Karalin, will fulfill the duty entrusted to me.’

It had been quite a while since she started receiving these impossible missions, sent to her death time and time again.

It must have started around the time Abel had just grown out of infancy and was formally appointed as Vitagarte’s new heir.

Back then, since Karalin was still young herself, her role was mostly symbolic—standing at the command post, issuing orders.

But wyverns are creatures of the sky.

And ordering a cavalry charge directly at such creatures?

That was as good as suicide.

So it was only natural that her abilities were questioned, and her reputation took a hit.

But all of that was the least of her concerns.

The most painful thing was seeing the faces of the soldiers she was sending off to die.

To witness their silent expressions as they rode into the jaws of death twisted her heart more than anything.

Which is why, in some ways, things were easier now.

Now that she was grown—

Now that she had become a warrior in her own right—

Karalin could go die with them.

She could march to her death side-by-side with those she'd ordered forward.

And so, in a strange way… her heart was at peace.

Yes—if only in her heart.

“My Lady, are you all right now?”

Once again, Yohan spoke from beside her.

Only then did she realize the wyverns were no longer visible.

They must have pulled back, probably to go burn the nearest village instead.

Another retreat.

“Sorry… I lost focus. I just… haven’t been able to sleep well lately.”

“Think nothing of it. We’ve been marching and fighting for 45 hours straight. Anyone would be exhausted.”

“…It’s my fault. Another loss under an incompetent commander.”

“Would you like to ride with me and rest for a bit, My Lady? It won’t be comfortable, but I’ll get you safely back to the castle.”

“Yeah… that’d be good.”

But she still had Yohan.

Yohan was the only one left.

Once again, he had survived—somehow—alone.

And once again, he remained by her side.

Even when everything else was scorched, impaled, or slaughtered—he always survived, and he always protected her.

Thud—

Karalin climbed onto Yohan’s horse, and gently leaned against his broad, solid back, closing her eyes.

“Steel Guard.”

“Yes, My Lady.”

“Thank you. For surviving.”

To her, Yohan—her Steel Guard—was a miracle in itself.

Their bond went far, far back.

Back to the day she rescued him from death in a snow-covered mountain.

At the time, it hadn’t meant much.

Just the bare minimum of mercy for a dying commoner.

But perhaps he’d wanted to repay that kindness, this giant of a boy had stayed at the castle ever since, never leaving her side.

And she remembered that time a horse had gone wild.

Yohan had leapt in without hesitation, saving her from being thrown.

She was so surprised. Even now, just thinking about it made her heart pound for some reason.

She still didn’t know why. She couldn’t explain it.

But from that moment on, Yohan had proven himself extraordinary.

Even though it put him in danger, he had shown a rare, unshakable resolve to risk his life for her.

He had shattered iron chains with some mysterious power… And ever since she'd named him her retainer, Yohan had done exactly what he promised:

To follow her, to the ends of hell.

Even though he didn’t need to go this far.

‘I want to learn the sword… so I can stand beside My Lady.’

‘I can’t let My Lady be alone. I want to stand on the battlefield with you.’

After Karalin lost her place as heir, the retainers who once followed her all left one by one.

‘No matter what happens, I will stay until the end.’

Only he remained.

Only he, Yohan, stood by her side, unwavering in his support.

On the battlefield, he wielded his overwhelming strength to smash through enemy lines by destroying their weapons. He even earned the title Steel Guard not long ago.

‘I have nothing I can give you in return…’

The more she thought about it, the more unbelievable it seemed—

That someone so capable, so loyal, would willingly serve her.

Why would someone like him do so much for her?

It made her feel wretched.

Her chest ached with guilt.

I’m so… lacking. I don’t deserve this…

I…

“She’s finally asleep…”

Snore—

Yohan glanced back at the slumbering figure with her soft blue hair resting against him, and murmured quietly:

“Don’t worry. The new year has dawned. This time of humiliation and oppression will soon come to an end.”

Karalin, sleeping peacefully, didn’t get to hear those words.

Even if she had, she likely wouldn’t have understood what it meant.

***

A few days had passed since they returned alive.

“Karalin von Vitagarte.”

The old lord—Rexas—finally summoned her to the audience chamber.

Naturally, her loyal Steel Guard was summoned as well.

But the conversation wouldn’t be with him.

Rexas growled her name like a curse.

His voice was thick, like rotting tar.

Gone was the strength and clarity of his youth.

Gone was the "Tiger of the North" once feared across the empire.

And yet, his murderous glare—sharp as a war machine—still remained.

He may be old and ragged, but Rexas was still someone who could make your blood run cold.

That was the kind of man he was.

“I’ve decided to send you to the Academy. Sigmund Academy, the same one our founding ancestor once attended. You’ll receive a better education than you ever did here in the North.”

And then, in that voice steeped in authority and fear, he declared:

“B-But, Father, I…”

“I will hear no objections.”

Shut up and go to the Academy.

At a glance, it might even sound like a sweet offer.

To the noble families rooted in the heart of the Empire, admittance into Sigmund Academy was considered a great honor.

It was a golden opportunity to step into the political spotlight of the capital, a social stage where alliances were forged, and reputations made.

And the Academy’s education was the finest in the Empire.

If one could graduate successfully, the prestige alone was a tremendous asset.

Of course…

Whether such a path held any real meaning for a Northern Grand Duchy like Vitagarte… That was an open question.

The state of the territory?

You saw it yourself.

Central politics?

Give that to the dogs.

Unlike the safe and coddled halls of the capital, the North was being battered more and more by invasions from barbarians and demons by the day.

Wyverns—creatures rarely seen even once—began invading regularly 8 years ago.

Even a single one of those monsters was a walking catastrophe.

And now? 25 had been confirmed.

So far, the North had only managed to shoot down 8.

That meant an unbelievable number still remained.

Maybe if the granaries were full, it wouldn’t feel so hopeless. But in the North, brutal winters reigned.

Even trying to fight those beasts was nearly impossible—especially now, when even turnips cost their weight in gold.

And yet, the central government provides no support.

All they ever say is ‘Aren’t you still a Grand Duchy? You’ve got the title, figure it out yourself. We’re struggling too, you know?’ and shirking their responsibilities.

What the hell are we supposed to do with these useless “connections to the center”?

And what’s worse—what’s most unbearable—is that this fate is being forced upon her.

The same girl who was once the rightful heir, long before Abel ever existed.

A natural-born talent, ready to inherit everything at any moment.

Why would she, now, go mix with some stuck-up academy brats and receive a so-called “high-quality education”?

No.

There was only one possible answer.

This wasn’t education.

This was exile.

This was no different from being told: ‘Get out of my territory and don’t come back.’

Rexas going mad under Shagallor’s pillow talk wasn’t anything new.

But now it seemed the man had finally lost what was left of his mind.

Still, outright throwing her out would look bad.

So instead, they disguised it as “education.”

And with that, he likely never intended to call her back again.

Shame and fury welled up inside her.

Karalin bit her lip so hard she could taste blood, trying not to let it show.

“Understood, Father…”

“Oh my, how wonderful, Karalin. Do write often from the capital. I’ll read your letters to Abel~”

And there it was—

Shagallor, that wretched stepmother, twisting the knife with a smile.

Was this how far she’d go now?

Even after Karalin endured being thrown into war after war—

And when she didn’t die like they hoped she would—

Now they just wanted her gone. Out of sight.

Everything she had endured… she bore it all just for a chance to be recognized again by the land she loved, by her people.

But now, Shagallor was taking even that last hope away.

Karalin’s eyes trembled.

She was filled with resentment and only seconds away from crying out, or breaking into tears.

But then, someone stepped forward.

A black-haired swordsman, who had been silently watching from a distance, finally opened his mouth.

He addressed Rexas directly.

“Your Grace, if I may.”

“What is it, Steel Guard?”

“Sigmund Academy lies far from the North. It will be a long journey, and danger may arise along the way.”

His words were unwavering.

As if he had been waiting a long time for this exact moment.

“Therefore, if Her Highness the Lady is to pursue her studies, I would like to request to accompany her as her retainer.”

‘Yohan…!’

In that moment, color returned to Karalin’s once somber face.

At the very least, he was the only ally left in the entire duchy who stood by her.

“Yeah, I figured. You’re just the kind of fool who’d say that.”

But Rexas only scoffed, sneering at his loyalty.

Shagallor, meanwhile, made no attempt to hide her irritation, and only urged Rexas along with a twisted smile.

“Your Grace… can the duchy’s finances really afford this?”

“Hmph. I wouldn’t call them fine, not even out of courtesy.”

“Then I’m afraid no favorable thoughts come to mind regarding him…”

“Well, if our dear Steel Guard insists, I suppose he’ll have to find his own way in the capital, won’t he? I’ll manage to provide for my daughter, but as for him…”

To that, Yohan responded without hesitation.

“I will manage without lacking.”

“Then get out of my sight.”

The meaning was clear: ‘You can go if you want, but don’t expect a single coin from the duchy.’

In a way, this was little more than petty revenge—a final jab at Yohan for refusing to fall in line with Shagallor’s chosen successor.

And so, the only thing that grew in Karalin’s heart was a deeper, sharper ache.

The anxiety. The helplessness. The desperate need to do something for this man who had shown her such loyalty.

But what if… inside Yohan, a bubbling joy was about to erupt into full-blown laughter?

Who could possibly believe that?

***

I, Kim Yohan, thought:

‘Finally. Finally, it’s happening!’

I’m finally going to escape this damn husband-and-wife pair!

It had been a long time since I became the Lady’s retainer.

And yes, through all those years, I’d had plenty of chances to turn the tides.

I could have killed Shagallor and Abel in their sleep.

Could’ve rallied loyalists and staged a coup, thrown Rexas from the throne, and seated the Lady in his place.

But despite all those tempting thoughts, even with all those opportunities…

In the end, I came to one clear conclusion:

There’s no future here.

No matter how I looked at it, the right move now was to go with the flow—

‘To let her attend the Academy just like in the original history.’

And why?

Because once the current 65th class of Sigmund Academy finishes enrollment…

Just a few months later, the Demon King’s army begins their massive uprising.

And there are always a few pre-determined locations that get hit first—used as warm-up punching bags.

And one of the most prominent among them?

The very place I’m standing in now.

‘The Grand Duchy of Vitagarte.’

Three chapters after Karalin leaves for the academy, which translates to about three months from now—

This territory is suddenly attacked by a whopping 300 wyverns.

Mind you, that’s three hundred. Three hundred.

We nearly died trying to take down 25 of those things, and now they’re going to drop 300 on us?

Once that happens, the duchy is automatically toast, no matter what we do.

The audience chamber we were just standing in?

Gone. Reduced to ashes.

The capital is forced to relocate.

The corpses of citizens will pile like mountains, and rivers will run red with blood.

That’s the exact content of Chapter 3 in the game I once played:

‘Eternal Eclipse: Sigmund Academy.’

The “Vitagarte Salvation” episode.

A disaster arc where everything collapses, and you try to rescue the duchy in its final death throes.

So seriously, what’s the point of staying behind to become the heir of a doomed land?

Sure, we could reject the Academy.

But what’s left after that?

The capital burned to ashes.

Winning back the trust of devastated citizens.

Begging for help from central nobles and neighboring lords.

Back-breaking political infighting with vassals eager to snatch power.

Endless logistics and paperwork.

And on top of that? We’re supposed to somehow prevent the complete collapse of Vitagarte.

Are you kidding me?

‘No way, fuck that.’

The answer is escape.

All this time, I’ve tolerated Shagallor’s indulgence and Rexas’ incompetence just to make it to this moment.

Let them have the throne.

Let Shagallor and Abel try their hardest to be successors.

They wanted it so bad? Then let them deal with it. Old dude Rexas will take care of them anyway.

They shoved it down their own throats, so what can they do?

As for us? We’re going to the Academy.

We’ll lie low, grow stronger, and wait. Then, when Vitagarte is reduced to a bloody wreck, we’ll come back.

Swoop in. Clean up. Get the final blow.

And the throne will come back to us automatically.

Karalin’s name will be restored. Her prestige reestablished.

Didn’t I say it before?

None of this matters.

This whole game is just a league they’re playing among themselves.

Well then, let's give them a taste of how spicy that league can get.

Step.

Step.

Just as we were about to return to our separate rooms—

Tug—

My Lady gently grabbed my sleeve from behind.

“Yohan…”

As if she were about to ask me for something.

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