I Stole The Duke - Chapter 145

Zaal hesitated for a moment.
What was the point of kidnapping the Duchess in the first place?
To use her as bait—to lure out Duke Ascher and kill him.

‘Three knights and the Duke…’

His gaze returned to the building entrance.

‘If that’s the case…’

No matter how skilled the Duke was, a fight between four and twenty? If they struck all at once, they had a real chance at victory.

“Samir. Run back to the captain and tell him to prepare for immediate departure.”

“Yes, understood.”

“Sharif, gather the others and lead them here quietly.”

“Yes, brother.”

With Zaal’s low-voiced commands, both warriors slipped into the darkness.

‘If possible, kill the Duke. The Duchess…’

Zaal held his breath, eyes fixed on the Duke and Duchess. His honed senses could see clearly through the glass window. He spotted the black-haired man, assumed to be the Duke, and beside him, a silver-haired beauty, her hair pinned up simply, glowing softly in the light.

“…Well, well.”

Whatever they were talking about, it was clearly amusing. The woman was smiling warmly at her husband, and that expression filled Zaal’s view.

He swallowed hard.

‘We’ll bring her back to Kantoor and offer her to His Highness.’

She truly deserved to be called a “flower.” In this war, the Duchess might be the most exquisite trophy of all. The salty sea air around him seemed to thicken, heavy and still.

“It’s this dark, yet… there’s a ship coming in?”

Eliana, still gazing at the night view in a daze, turned to Michalis.

It was too dark to make out the ship’s shape clearly, but judging from the height of the magical lanterns strung on the central mast, it was clearly a large vessel approaching the port.

“Big ships only attempt night docking when they’re extremely confident in their navigation.”

“Oh, really?”

“They can’t rely on tugboats at night, and there’s a high risk of collision with other docked ships. That’s why it’s avoided unless absolutely necessary.”

Michalis followed Eliana’s gaze. Whatever their urgency, two large ships were coming in, using expensive, high-powered magical lights to guide their way through the harbor.

‘Come to think of it… it’s about time they returned.’

He suddenly thought of the two agents he’d sent to the Eastern Empire to procure saltpeter. Only the Blue Knights’ captain and vice-captain had the skills to navigate night waters like this.

“Your drink, Your Grace.”

Right then, the head chef approached quietly and poured a drink into a crystal glass.

“Michal, is this…?”

Eliana’s eyes widened at the creamy foam rising in the glass. The golden hue and the delicate bubbles could only mean one thing—cold beer. Rare and difficult to get fresh.

“Drink only half.”

“You fill the glass to the brim and then tell me that?”

“If you start hiccupping, this carefully planned dinner will be ruined.”

Michalis feigned seriousness, which was rare and amusing.

“My tolerance has gotten better lately. I think I can handle a glass.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

Michalis found this light banter surprisingly enjoyable—just trading small jokes with his wife.

“You’re underestimating me. That’s cruel.”

Eliana, too, found this simple moment oddly precious. In a world where she couldn’t even go out freely without an escort, a normal date with the man she loved felt more valuable than ever.

“Your tolerance has improved.”

“You think so too, Michal?”

“At your current pace, maybe by next summer you’ll be able to finish one full glass.”

He chuckled out loud—something he hadn’t done in a long time—thanks to the woman beside him.

“Next summer, huh… by then, I probably won’t be able to drink even if I want to.”

Eliana hadn’t even touched the beer yet, but her cheeks were already flushing pink. For no reason other than her own nerves.

“What do you mean?”

Michalis swallowed the beer in his mouth and asked carefully.

“Well… it’s been five months since we got married. And since I started horseback riding, my stamina’s improved a lot…”

She paused, gathering her courage, then said quietly:

“…I stopped taking the pills.”

“Are you pushing yourself too hard?”

He wasn’t sure what her heart truly wanted. Was this her own decision—or one made from pressure? Michalis couldn’t help but feel tense.

“We can’t keep putting it off forever.”

Eliana had always been aware of it. How the lack of an heir in House Ascher was a vulnerability—for both of them.

“Is this because of duty? Or… because you want to?”

Coming from a man who lived by duty, it felt ironic to ask that now. Michalis almost laughed at himself.

“Of course, duty plays a part.”

“Duty…”

Michalis looked away, just a little disheartened.

“It’s not just duty. I want to see a child who looks like you, Michal.”

At Eliana’s words, the seriousness that had crept into Michalis’s face slowly melted away into warmth.

A girl, with silver hair and emerald eyes…

He felt a little guilty thinking it—but the child absolutely had to take after her.

“So, if I start being a little more… proactive, starting tonight, would that be acceptable?”

The Duke spoke as if he hadn’t already been the most proactive man alive.

“Effort’s a two-person job.”

“Together” …?

“Ahem. Fair point.”

Suddenly, Michalis was very eager to return home. His knife work at the table noticeably picked up speed, the urgency clear.

“Michal! Put the knife down and just try this already.”

Afraid he was about to start slicing the pasta too, Eliana quickly reached across the table to stop him.

Clang!

Just then, from below, came the unmistakable clash of weapons—followed by shouted commands.

“Left, Ros! Rear, Roa!”

“Yes!”

They were dropping names and honorifics—this was serious.

“Stay here! Don’t come down under any circumstances!”

Michalis didn’t even pause to think—he stood immediately. The floor trembled with the pounding of dozens of feet. They were already pouring in.

“Don’t let them reach the stairs.”

Cedric’s voice cracked with urgency. A raid by Kantoor warriors in the heart of Flencia was shocking enough, but what was worse—the skill of these invaders wasn’t far below the Blue Knights themselves.

— Just three. End it quickly.

“Gah!”

Speaker grunted as a spear pierced through his blue uniform, dyeing it red in an instant.

“Are you all right?!”

“It’s not fatal. I’m fine!”

Outnumbered and pressured, the three knights were slowly being forced back toward the staircase by the swarm of twenty warriors.

— Target the injured first.

Zaal deflected Cedric’s blade as he barked out his order.

— Yes, sir!

“Ros, behind you!”

Cedric shouted, pale-faced. Even without knowing the Kantoor language, the meaning was clear. He desperately wanted to help—but they were all fighting off multiple enemies. Especially the man who seemed to be the leader—his skill with the spear was terrifying. Every time blade met shaft, it sent chills down Cedric’s spine.

“Damn it!”

Five spears came at once. Blocking even a few was nearly impossible. Speaker barely managed to deflect three—his sword was knocked from his grip.

A bitter curse escaped him. And deep down, he knew…

‘This is probably my last fight.’

He narrowly dodged the thrust aimed at his throat—but the next, aimed straight at his abdomen, was coming too fast to evade.

Thud—!

‘Was that the sound of my gut being pierced? That didn’t hurt as much as I thought… Wait—why does that guy have a dining knife stuck in his throat…?’

The first casualty had fallen. A Kantoor warrior collapsed, eyes wide open, a knife buried in his neck.

“Sir Roswell Speaker. Focus.”

Michalis yanked Speaker backward by the collar and drew the small backup dagger from his belt. He hadn’t brought his own sword—this was supposed to be a peaceful dinner with his wife. He’d have to make do.

“Your Grace!”

The three knights’ expressions lit up. Their lord had taken down an enemy the moment he entered. Now, it was 19 against 4.

“Everyone, retreat twenty paces!”

The fight hadn’t stopped. Michalis gave his order while positioning himself beside Speaker.

“Yes, sir!”

“We fight from the stairs.”

The stairs weren’t sacred ground—they were a strategy. Their swords were only about a meter long; the enemy spears, around 1.3 meters. In a tight space, even a few centimeters of range could backfire. And the Blue Knights, trained for close-quarters battle at sea, were at their best in such conditions.

— Don’t let them reach the stairs.

Zaal barked his orders. The Duke’s arrival couldn’t be allowed to shake them.

— Don’t break formation. Stay focused.

‘That one’s the leader.’

Michalis understood the gist of the enemy’s words. Without hesitation, he pushed forward through the warriors blocking his path.

“Fall back ten more paces!”

The sudden break in their formation let the three knights retreat to the stairwell.

— Is he insane?!

Zaal blocked Michalis’s dagger with the shaft of his spear. The famed Duke of Ascher, charging alone while ordering his men to pull back—he really was as mad as they said.

— No—what’s insane is that you dared set foot on my land.

Michalis answered in fluent Kantoor, matching Zaal’s glare.

— Too much confidence turns into poison, they say.

In the next moment, ten spears lunged for Michalis at once. There was no time for pride or duels. Their goal was to kill the Duke as fast as possible and flee Flencia before reinforcements arrived.

‘Damn.’

Michalis twisted and deflected a spear that came for his left side and dove inward.

“Urgh!”

A spear slammed into his ribs, but in the same motion, a dagger wreathed in blue aura slashed across an enemy’s throat.

‘Their level is high.’

There was no time to feel the pain in his side—or even to wipe the blood from his face. Attacks were coming from all sides. And trying to fight spears with a dagger was nothing short of madness. A clumsy block would just snap his blade—and there were too many to simply dodge.

‘I have to take out the commander—fast.’

He’d downed two already, but it was still 18 against 4. Each knight was holding off two or three enemies alone. The longer this dragged on, the worse it would get.

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