It was a Political Marriage, But I’m Being Loved - Chapter 59

“You should rest and prepare for tonight. If your tracking magic is needed, Giel will send for you.”

“Understood.”

Aisha had wanted to meet and greet the princess, but she quietly stepped back. Achilles was right—if she was going to protect the princess all night, she’d need to get at least a little sleep beforehand.

Once she was gone, Achilles headed back to his room, where Charlize was asleep.

He was almost certain now that the culprit was Valter Bianchi. According to reports, it was Valter’s knight, Dave, who opened the castle gates and let the intruders in. That was enough proof.

Did he really think killing everyone inside the castle would hide the evidence? Stationing knights right outside the northern stronghold the night before… it was too suspicious.

This hadn’t just been about kidnapping Charlize. Achilles was sure of it. But he pushed those thoughts aside.

Giel would uncover the full plan soon enough.

What mattered now was finding the person responsible—and making sure they could never attempt anything like this again. The Empire had its laws. But the Mage Tower had its own rules.

And Achilles had never shown mercy to those who harmed his people.

Still…

Just in case, I should get the Emperor’s approval.

Not because he needed it—but for Charlize’s sake. He wasn’t keeping her here against her will. She was free to leave if she wanted.

And if there was going to be any long-term relationship between him and the imperial family, it was a matter of diplomacy as well as love. As annoying as it was, it was a necessary step toward winning her heart.

As he climbed the stairs back to their room, Achilles thought of her. He couldn’t wait to be by her side again.

“So, the young duke dared to march an army out and threaten the princess?”

Duke Bianchi, summoned before the Emperor, could no longer maintain his composure. He hadn’t expected that while Valter had claimed to be leaving the capital briefly, he’d be doing something this reckless.

“An army, Your Majesty? That’s impossible! My son must have meant no harm. He probably acted out of concern for Her Highness’s safety. She left with no escort—he must’ve been worried and wanted to protect her!”

The Duke spoke desperately, but the Emperor stared down at him with displeasure. Ever since the princess’s marriage to the Tower Master had become likely, the Emperor had looked at Duke Bianchi with growing coldness.

In truth, the Emperor had already taken issue with Valter for not returning Charlize’s affections earlier. That had likely soured his opinion of their entire house.

How foolish I was. To think I could sway the imperial family just by winning the princess’s heart… As if the Emperor would continue indulging her whims forever.

The Duke had fully intended for Valter to marry Charlize. Even if the boy resisted now, there was no one more fitting in status and rank than her.

And despite appearances, Valter was ambitious. The Duke had believed that no woman with lesser status than Charlize would ever catch his son’s eye.

He had planned to present Charlize as his daughter-in-law, then use that connection to hold sway over the imperial family for years to come. Now, sweating from the Emperor’s rebuke, those dreams were crumbling fast.

Though he didn’t beg outright, Duke Bianchi might as well have been kneeling at the Emperor’s feet.

So, what if he brought a few knights to meet the princess? With the Tower Master by her side, those men wouldn’t have posed a threat!

Duke Bianchi couldn’t understand what Valter had been thinking. If he was going to reject the engagement, why not do so at the beginning? Then he wouldn’t be suffering such humiliation now—and the Bianchi name wouldn’t be falling from favor.

“It’s clear the Emperor has turned his back on our house. This is serious.”

Once first to receive invitations to imperial events, the Bianchi family was now just another noble house, treading carefully around the throne.

With a bitter expression, the Duke ordered his coachman to drive on. He needed to find out where Valter was—before his son made things worse.

Giel had asked the steward to find a suitable place for interrogation and was led to an abandoned underground storage room. His subordinates began transferring the petrified intruders with magic, while Giel observed, trying to identify the leader.

Their clothes are all similar… but this one’s mana feels different.

He settled on Lewein. Completely breaking the Tower Master’s curse would be difficult, but that wasn’t necessary for interrogation.

Giel used a partial reversal spell to free only Lewein,’s head from the petrification. Then, without hesitation, he forced a wooden gag into the man’s mouth.

As Lewein, came to, his eyes rolled wildly in panic, but it was too late—his mouth had already been silenced.

“Dealing with non-mages is such a tiring business,” Giel muttered, adjusting his glasses. “They’ve got mouths, but all they do is lie. It’s exhausting.”

He was a white mage, one especially skilled in mental and psychological magic. He could drive someone mad with illusions—or open their mind and peer directly into their memories.

Sword masters typically had strong mental fortitude, but that didn’t always mean they had high magical resistance. For those who weren’t mages, there was always a limit. Even elite white mages sometimes struggled against those trained in resisting mind magic—but Giel was in a class of his own.

This one doesn’t even meet that standard. He probably thought a Sword master would never be taken alive.

Live or die—those were usually the only outcomes for Swordmasters. This time, he’d simply been unlucky.

“Well then,” Giel said with a glint in his eye, “let’s see what kind of valuable secrets you’re hiding.”

With a whisper of invocation, white light poured from his fingertips and into Lewein,’s exposed head. The magic shimmered faintly, sinking into him.

Lewein,, still bound and gagged with a wooden bit, groaned in agony, but it was no use. A soundproofing spell had already been cast throughout the underground chamber. No matter how loud he screamed, nothing would escape these walls.

Giel focused completely, locking onto the stream of memories slowly spilling from Lewein,’s mind.

Meanwhile, Valter Bianchi had arrived in the second-closest city to the northern fortress. He had checked into the city’s most prestigious hotel and was now attending a noble’s masquerade ball. He didn’t plan to stay long—but he needed the alibi.

It’s taking too long.

He had already had several drinks, but none of them had affected him. Even before he became a Swordmaster, he had a high tolerance, but now, intoxication was nearly impossible.

There’s no way the northern fortress could’ve stopped Lewein, and his knights alone. I even assigned him two full knight orders just in case. This plan won’t fail.

The only real risk was if Achilles had stayed behind in the castle instead of responding to the crisis in the nearby village. If that were the case, Lewein, should have reported back by now.

But the mage accompanying Valter at the ball remained silent. If they were in the middle of a fight—or being pursued by Achilles—it was too dangerous to reach out first.

Valter imagined the worst.

What if Achilles had returned to the castle ahead of schedule? What if he’d found the body of the false Charlize, flown into a rage, and slaughtered Lewein, and the knights—and in the process, killed the real Charlize as well?

He brought a glass to his lips, frowning.

It wasn’t an impossible scenario. Mages could be incredibly destructive when provoked.

Calling over one of the estate’s attendants, Valter asked for the time, then summoned his personal servant. He couldn’t pretend to enjoy the ball any longer. He needed to return to the hotel and get an update on the situation.

As he moved toward the entrance, the mage he had brought along hurried after him. The tension in the man’s face confirmed Valter’s suspicion.

“What is it?”

“The Duke… your father… sent a message, sir.”

Not the news he’d been waiting for.

Valter’s brow creased. He could already guess the reason. At this hour, what else could it be but trouble?

It hit him, suddenly and clearly—Charlize had truly turned away from him. She had gone to the Emperor. She had reported what happened.

She had never done anything like that before.

A bitter taste rose in his throat, but alongside it was a chilling certainty.

This won’t end well for you, Charlize. But in the end, you’ll be mine.

She had been his once. He would simply be taking back what already belonged to him.

“He insists on speaking with you immediately… What should I tell him?”

“Say I’m too drunk to talk. I’ll return the call tomorrow morning after I’ve sobered up.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ignoring the mage as he pulled out his crystal communicator, Valter exited the estate with his escort. His personal servant was already waiting at the carriage with the coach prepared to leave.

Valter sighed, frustration brewing in his chest.

What the hell is Lewein doing?

This plan was not supposed to fail. Even if it did, he had insurance—he held the secrets and weaknesses of more than half the Empire’s high nobility.

But despite everything, he couldn’t shake the unease creeping up his spine.

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