The Grand Duke's Soulmate-Chapter 587: The Entourage’s Departure (II)

The change in his tone made her look up at him properly. His features were serious now—too serious.

"You’re coming back, aren’t you?" she asked, a flicker of doubt slipping into her voice.

"Of course," he replied at once. Then, after a brief pause, he added, "I just don’t want you changing your heart while I’m gone. Time changes everything... and everyone. Who knows?"

Her brow furrowed. There was something in the way he said that unsettled her.

But before she could press him further, Drystan had already retreated, offering her a smile she could not quite decipher.

Nearby, Eric shifted uneasily and approached Garin first, before turning to his family. The thought of the impending ’disaster’ that Beatrice’s arrival might stir refused to leave his mind.

More than once, he had considered warning the third-in-command knight. But Rachel had firmly dismissed the idea.

If Garin knew, he would react, and she was sure of that. He would insist on seeing Beatrice, and once they stood face to face, whatever fragile calm remained would shatter.

The only way to preserve peace was to prevent them from meeting at all.

Rachel had made it clear she would do everything within her authority to ensure that happened. And for the sake of Gerhard’s stability, Eric could only agree that silence was the lesser danger.

But somehow, Garin noticed his restlessness.

"You look as though something burdens you," he said.

Eric forced a neutral expression. "Only concern for the journey."

"Doesn’t seem likely," Garin added, noticing his unsettled expression.

The second-in-command exhaled, fingers tapping absently against his thigh, a brooding crease settling between his brows.

"Look, Garin..." he began.

The third-in-command’s eyebrow arched higher. "You addressed me by my first name."

"Yes," Eric admitted. "...because I’m about to speak as a friend, not as your superior."

That alone stirred unease in Garin. Eric was not a man who blurred lines without reason. Something was indeed brewing, and whatever it was, he seemed reluctant to voice it.

"If... by any chance... you and—"

"Eric, sweety!" Rachel called suddenly, drawing the second-in-command knight’s attention.

A knowing smile curved her lips.

"Won’t you say goodbye to us? The children are waiting."

"Right." Eric nodded.

He turned back to Garin and gave his shoulder a firm pat. "Good luck. I wish you all the best."

Garin’s brows knit slightly. The words did not sound casual nor entirely celebratory. There was something in Eric’s tone that felt... weighted, almost like a warning disguised as goodwill.

Allowing Eric’s family to say goodbye, he chose not to dig more and merely nodded.

The second-in-command knight approached Rachel and gently lifted Ethan into his arms. His stern, commanding expression quickly softened, revealing a devoted father as he pressed a kiss to the child’s forehead and cheeks. His rigid bearing eased into warmth and affection.

After handing Ethan to Mary, who stepped forward to assist, Eric crouched before little Evan, ruffling the boy’s hair gently.

"Be a good lad, all right? Eat well and sleep early. Grow strong enough to protect your mother while I’m gone."

"Umph!" Evan nodded vigorously, puffing out his chest with solemn determination.

A ripple of soft laughter passed through the gathering.

"That’s my son," Eric declared proudly.

Rising, he turned to Rachel. Pride shone openly in his grey eyes.

"Take care of yourself," he said more quietly. "You’re not only a knight’s wife now, but Gerhard’s chief lady-in-waiting. That’s no small burden."

Rachel’s smile deepened, steady and reassuring.

"I know," she replied. "And I’ll carry it well. Don’t worry about us. Just focus on your mission."

"Will do." He nodded.

The carriage door, bearing the duchy’s emblem and meant for the journey, suddenly opened.

Athillia stepped down first, and behind her, Armel followed, carrying a covered bucket in one hand.

Kyren’s gaze fell on them. "Is Elis all right?"

"She is, Your Highness," the princess answered. "Merely morning sickness. Nothing unusual. She’s asleep already."

The grand duke gave a brief nod.

Elis had already settled into the carriage earlier to avoid unnecessary strain. Her pregnancy had left her prone to waves of nausea and bouts of dizziness, especially in the mornings.

"I’ll take this away," said Armel, referring to the covered bucket containing the vomit.

Gerald stepped forward at once. "Leave it, Mr Chester. I will have a servant clear that. You’re about to set off already."

"Right." The teenager nodded, placing it aside before returning promptly to the carriage.

He and the princess would accompany Elis on the journey—Athillia for her experience at sea, and Armel because Kiev had personally entrusted his consort’s care to him.

Eli stepped forward and offered the princess his handkerchief. She smiled at him, visibly pleased that they would be parting on the same journey.

"The travel will take several days before we reach Port Braska," he said. "Be sure to rest well so you’ll have the strength to attend to Her Highness. If you need anything, inform me at once."

"I will."

Eli gave a slight nod before motioning for Athillia to step into the carriage first. The princess turned to the others, lifting her hand in farewell, her smile bright despite the uncertainty ahead, and climbed in.

Satisfied, Kyren turned to the gathered knights.

"Form ranks."

Immediately, armour shifted, and boots struck stone in unison. The entourage fell into disciplined order.

Kyren’s eyes swept over them once more before giving a single nod to Rafe.

The healer straightened and announced, "Entourage of Gerhard, depart!"

The command rang clear.

Horses moved first, hooves striking against the cobbled forecourt.

The carriage wheels creaked into motion. Steel glinted beneath the morning sun as the line advanced toward the main gate.

From behind, those remaining stood in silent vigil—Emily clutching Scarlett’s hand, Meredith standing calmly, Sylvia unmoving, Rachel holding Ethan close, Ayden and Clara side by side, and of course, Gerald in tears along with the other servants.

The gates opened wide, and Kyren did not look back.

The procession passed through and into the road beyond, banners stirring lightly in the breeze, and those remaining continued to watch.

Even after the figures grew smaller... even after the sound of hooves faded... even after the road lay empty once more, all remained as though stepping away would make the departure final.

Then—

Rapid footsteps approached the group, coming from the western wing, the entrance reserved for merchant caravans.

A guard hurried forward and bowed stiffly before Garin.

"Sir, a merchant company’s entourage has arrived."

Garin frowned. "A merchant company?"

Rachel’s composure faltered at once. The colour drained from her face.

She had not expected Beatrice to arrive so early. It was barely morning, and she had assumed the caravan would rest along the way before proceeding. Never had she imagined her sister would press on through the night without pause, eager to reach Gerhard.

The chief lady-in-waiting stepped forward hastily, momentarily forgetting her children.

"It’s the company I hired. The new female attendants and servants."

Garin turned to her. He had been informed of Rachel’s assignment upon her appointment, but only in brief.

No details of which company had been engaged were included. The report had been submitted in haste, amid the reshuffling of knights.

"Then, since we are present, it is only proper that we welcome them," he said.

"No!" Rachel blurted.

Her sharp voice caught everyone’s attention, and a blush of embarrassment rose on her cheeks.

Quickly, Rachel steadied herself and continued, "This falls under my jurisdiction. I will handle it. You should return inside."

Garin looked at her in measured silence. It was an oddly abrupt response.

Even as chief lady-in-waiting, she ought to have remembered his position and the formal setting.

"As the Grand Duke’s appointed representative, the responsibility to formally receive any arriving entourage falls to me."

Rachel’s fingers tightened at her sides. "They are workers under my supervision."

"And they have just arrived at Gerhard. I should greet them properly," Garin replied calmly. "Following protocol is my duty."

"It’s my jurisdiction, and I will do so," the chief lady-in-waiting countered.

Tension grew thicker between them as neither backed down. The others looked from one to the other, bewildered by the sudden clash.

Most knew the pair had never been on good terms for reasons left unspoken. Nevertheless, despite their long-standing friction, they always appeared composed in public.

Strangely, it wasn’t so this time. Somehow, their discord had spilt beyond private resentment into open conflict. What might have triggered such an outburst now?

None dared to interfere since both of them held high positions within the castle. At the height of their argument, the creak of wheels echoed across the courtyard.

The caravan had already passed through the western gate and was approaching.

Rachel spun towards the guard, eyes wide.

"Why were they allowed through?"

"My lady," the guard replied nervously, "you issued the order days ago to grant them entry regardless of the hour. We are merely following your instruction."

"Oh, God..."

Rachel’s breath hitched. Her plan was utterly ruined, and ’danger’ was indeed drawing near.

Garin’s gaze shifted to the advancing carriages, and then he saw the familiar emblem painted boldly upon the lead carriage door.

"Perna Company..." he murmured, brows lifting.

If Rachel was this anxious, then there could be only one explanation.

The leading carriage halted, and without waiting for assistance, the door swung open.

As expected, Lady Beatrice Perna stepped down, her travelling cloak draped elegantly over her shoulders.

A radiant smile brightened her face at the sight of Rachel.

"Sister—"

However, the cheerful grin vanished the instant her eyes locked onto Garin.

"You!"

The single word sliced through the courtyard, and from the sound of it, it wasn’t out of a pleasant surprise.

Garin froze. It had been years since he had last seen her.

That face... that smile... that voice... everything about her remained unchanged.

No words came to him. Only a look that was laden with something close to longing—something that had never quite died.

Around them, the onlookers exchanged confused glances again.

Why had the caravan’s leader offered no courtesy to the acting representative of Gerhard?

"Bea—" Rachel hurried forward, grasping her sister’s arm. "Please, calm down—"

But Beatrice’s attention had already shifted.

Near the carriage, slightly aside, sat the covered bucket Armel had left behind, a cloth loosely draped over its lid.

She noticed it at once.

To others, it meant nothing. But to someone who owned the company that managed estates, servants, and sanitation with precision, she recognised the sign immediately—something foul awaiting disposal.

Without a word, she shook off Rachel’s hand and strode towards it.

"Beatrice!" Rachel called, alarm sharp in her voice.

Beatrice ignored the calling, peeled back the cover and lifted the bucket. A sour stench rose at once.

Gerald frowned, stepping forward slightly. "What are you—"

"Aaa—!"

’Splash!’

The others recoiled just in time when the unexpected act happened, but Garin stayed still. The contents struck him squarely across the face.

The courtyard fell into stunned silence.

No one moved. No one breathed.

Gooey liquid dripped from his hair and down his jaw, falling onto the stone beneath his boots as the foul smell spread through the air.

The very disaster Rachel had been desperately trying to prevent had erupted before she could contain it.

And so, Gerhard would watch another story unfold; one that had remained silent for years...