Chapter 33: Golden Knight III
Inside the city, Lyria was hard at work, consumed by the responsibilities of managing the territory. The recent war had stretched resources thin. She had sent a significant number of soldiers to the war, leaving her with a depleted garrison. To compensate, she had personally overseen the recruitment and training of young men and women to replenish their ranks. It was a necessary precaution; waiting until the war ended to replace the fallen would only prolong their vulnerability. The task was grueling, and her usual workload had only grown heavier.
When word reached her that Edric had returned, her meticulous focus shattered. Without delay, she abandoned her work and hurried to see him. His sudden appearance was nothing short of shocking—he wasn't supposed to leave Marquis Windwalker's territory, where he was meant to remain under strict protection. Yet here he was, back in the city and, to her alarm, without a single guard accompanying him.
As she approached, a storm of emotions churned in her heart. Relief at seeing him safe. Frustration at his recklessness. Losing Edric, who probably has at least mythic-level talent, would have been extremely painful. An undercurrent of anger was directed at the Marquis for allowing this to happen. "What was Alaric thinking, letting Edric leave alone?" she fumed silently, though she kept her expression composed. For now, her priority was ensuring her son's well-being. The questions—and complaints—could come later.
For now, though, all she wanted was to see him with her own eyes. It wasn't love that motivated her—at least, not the pure, selfless kind. Her concern for Edric stemmed from something more pragmatic. Her future depended on him. If Edric succeeded, she could one day rise far beyond her current station. Perhaps even claim the throne of this kingdom—or the entire island.
She alone knew the extent of Edric's talent. While others underestimated him or failed to see the truth, she was fully aware that his potential surpassed anything ever seen before. The speed at which he advanced, shattering records and expectations, had already proven that much.
When Edric entered the room and their eyes met, she felt an unplaceable flicker of emotion. His calm, piercing gaze carried a weight that unsettled her, as if he could see through her every thought and motive. He had changed—there was no denying it.
Edric studied his mother. She hadn't changed much—still youthful and beautiful, with vibrant green eyes and fiery red hair that mirrored his own. Their resemblance was undeniable. A faint smile crossed his lips as he said, "Mother, I came back to see my child. I heard Mirelle has given birth."
Lyria blinked, momentarily caught off guard. The news itself wasn't surprising—Mirelle had indeed given birth—but how Edric had learned of it puzzled her. "How do you know, Eddie?" she asked, her tone a mix of curiosity and cautiousness. Then, softening, she added, "It's true. She had a girl. Congratulations."
Edric's face lit up with genuine happiness. "Let's go," he said warmly. "I want to see them."
But Lyria, still unsettled, pressed him further. "How did you know? How did you find out Mirelle gave birth?" Suspicion gnawed at her thoughts. Could Edric have spies within the castle? The idea seemed unlikely, yet the timing of his return left her uneasy.
Edric chuckled softly, noticing her unease. "Relax, Mother," he said. "I didn't know for sure it would be today. I only knew the approximate time, so I came back to be here for it. When I entered the city and saw the celebrations, I put the pieces together."
She had, indeed, ordered the city to celebrate the birth the night before. The streets were alive with joy and festivity, and Edric's reasoning seemed plausible.
Finally, she gave a nod. "Follow me," she said.
Without hesitation, Edric followed her, eager to meet his daughter—and Mirelle.
...
Inside a large room, Mirelle lay on the bed with her newborn resting peacefully beside her. The past months had been a dream for her. She had indulged in her favorite foods, traveled as she pleased, and lived in luxury. Countess Lyria Windwalker had ensured that Mirelle—and the other women bearing Edric's children—were treated like royalty. Guarded by soldiers, served by attendants, and provided with ample wealth, they were among the most pampered women in the city.
A gentle knock interrupted the tranquility, followed by the appearance of two figures. One was Lyria, as composed and dignified as ever, and the other was Edric himself. Mirelle's face lit up at the sight of him. She quickly sat upright, her heart racing, and gestured toward the baby lying beside her.
"Edric, you're here!" she exclaimed, her voice warm and brimming with pride. "Come, look at our child. Isn't she beautiful?"
With great care, she lifted the baby—still unnamed—into her arms. Gazing down at the tiny form, her expression softened into one of pure love. The baby's features were delicate, her presence radiating a quiet sense of wonder.
Edric carefully picked up his daughter, cradling her in his arms. The baby was asleep, her face serene and peaceful.
Looking down at her, he finally spoke. "Let's call her Mirelle," he said softly. "After her mother."
Traditionally, it was the privilege of high-ranking nobles like Lyria or Marquis Alaric Windwalker to name a newborn. But now that Edric had become a Golden Knight, he no longer felt bound by such formalities. His position, his power—it had all changed. He could forge his own path, make his own choices, free from the expectations of others.
And Edric had little attachment to Lyria or Alaric. They belonged to a part of his life he no longer felt connected to. He would name his daughter himself.
Lyria, watching quietly, couldn't hide a flicker of offense. She had expected Edric to consult her. But he didn't, and though the slight stung, she said nothing.
Mirelle, on the other hand, was radiant with joy. "Thank you, my love," she said, her voice filled with emotion. "I'm so happy you named her after me." Her smile was warm, her eyes shining. At that moment, she felt cherished more than the other women who carried Edric's children. It gave her hope that Edric held her in higher regard than the rest.
Edric carefully placed his daughter back into the crib, her tiny form nestled peacefully as she slept. With a quiet sigh, he stepped out into the hallway, leaving the room behind. Lyria followed closely, her surprise evident. She had expected him to linger, to spend more time with Mirelle and his child. Instead, he was leaving so quickly, as if the moment meant little to him.
Mirelle, still sitting on the bed, watched him go with a mix of confusion and disappointment. She had hoped for more—a longer visit, perhaps a gesture of connection—but he was already gone. The only thing he had left behind was the name he had chosen for their child. Her unspoken words lingered in the air.
Out in the hall, Edric addressed Lyria in his usual calm, straightforward tone. "Make sure they have everything they need," he said. "They shouldn't want for anything."
Lyria nodded, though irritation flickered beneath her composed expression. "Of course, they will be taken care of," she replied, her voice steady despite the frustration brewing inside her. Edric's recent actions were beginning to grate on her nerves.
First, he hadn't consulted her when naming the child—a small but significant slight against the traditions of noble families. And now, he was speaking to her as though she were a subordinate. It was a shift in their dynamic she couldn't ignore. Yes, she would fulfill his requests, but his dismissive tone and disregard for her authority stung.
Edric, unaware of her inner turmoil, turned to her again. "What about the others?" he asked plainly. "There are more women carrying my children. Mirelle is just one of them."
Lyria's irritation deepened, but she kept her composure. "They're being looked after as well. Some may give birth in the coming days."
Edric nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I can't stay for all of them," he said. "Name the ones born without consulting me. But please, take the mothers' wishes into account."
Without waiting for a response, he began walking toward the gate, clearly intent on leaving. Lyria's surprise turned to alarm. His abrupt departure felt wrong—too cold, too detached, given the circumstances.
"Wait, Edric!" she called after him, her voice sharp with urgency. "You can't just leave! It's not safe!"
Edric paused but didn't turn around. He seemed unaffected by her words. As far as he was concerned, his strength as a Golden Knight made him invincible. Whatever dangers lay ahead, he believed he could handle them.
"I'll be fine, Mother," he said, his tone calm but dismissive.
Lyria, however, was not so easily deterred. Raising her hand, she signaled to the guards. "Stop him," she commanded, her voice firm with authority. The guards hesitated for a brief moment before moving to block Edric's path.
Today was the day Edric became a father, a momentous occasion that had prompted Lyria to treat him with uncharacteristic patience. She had gone out of her way to accommodate him, ensuring he could meet his child and smoothing over the disruption caused by his rash decisions. However, if Edric still insisted on leaving after all she had done for him—ignoring her efforts and shirking his responsibilities—Lyria wouldn't hesitate to remind him of his manners.
Her tolerance had its limits, and some lessons were best learned the hard way.
"Marquis Alaric Windwalker allowed you to come here alone, which was irresponsible. I understand you're a knight now, but there are silver assassins out there who would do anything to harm you. Leaving alone is reckless." she said.
She stepped closer, her voice softening slightly as worry seeped through. "Let me get ready. I'll escort you back to the Marquis' territory myself—and I'll demand an explanation from him about why he allowed this."
Edric said, "Mom, please don't do this," he said, his voice firm but earnest. "I didn't leave Marquis Alaric's territory with his permission. I… sneaked away." He hesitated before continuing, "I wanted to see my firstborn so badly. The Marquis wouldn't let me leave, so I came alone."
Lyria froze, caught off guard by his confession. She blinked, processing his words. The explanation made sense—she could hardly imagine the Marquis allowing Edric to leave without security.
"If that's the case," she said, her voice tinged with exasperation, "you'll need to apologize to Marquis Windwalker. You shouldn't have defied his orders. He's only trying to protect you, Edric. It's for your own good."
Lyria turned and began walking toward her room to prepare for the journey. "Don't worry," she said firmly. "I'll speak to him and explain everything."
Edric sighed, resigning himself to the situation. He had no choice but to agree; any attempt to argue would only prolong the inevitable. All he could do now was wait for his mother to finish preparing.
Of course, as a Golden Knight, he could easily incapacitate the guards and leave the city undetected. However, exposing his true strength over something so trivial was far from worth the risk. It was better to endure this inconvenience and keep his abilities hidden for now.