The Duke's Reluctant Bride

Chapter 68: An Evening at the Imperial Palace

As the evening settled quietly over Lucien's manor, Quentin finally stepped into the corridor. A weary sigh escaped his lips as he stretched his shoulders, having finished the mountain of paperwork in the office.

A hint of understanding crossed his face as he remembered that the duchess had once handled this sort of work herself after falling victim to the duke's little scheme.

He walked through the manor's halls until a familiar figure caught his eye.

Clara stood near the entrance corridor leading to the grand doors, carrying Ivy in her arms as though she were a stuffed toy. Ivy seemed perfectly content to be held, her fluffy green tail lazily swaying.

At her waist rested an elegant rapier.

Quentin's expression softened as he called out.

"Good evening, young lady."

Clara turned toward him. Recognition crossed her face, and her expression brightened.

"Uncle Quentin! Good evening, eheh."

Carefully, she adjusted Ivy in her arms as the guardian's ears twitched.

Quentin quickly noticed that her movements were somewhat stiff. Her arms trembled slightly, and she bit back a wince, causing his brow to furrow.

"Is something wrong?"

Clara puffed her cheeks slightly.

"My arms and legs are sore from Aunt Adeline's training earlier. I did so many lunges and thrusts with the rapier."

"I am sorry to hear that. Should I call a healer for you?" Quentin asked, nearly laughing despite the concern on his face.

Clara quickly shook her head.

"No, Aunt Adeline said this is normal. Since it's my first time learning swordsmanship, she said the soreness means my body is adjusting." She looked down at her aching arms. "If I want to become stronger, I have to endure it."

Quentin scratched the back of his head.

"Well, eheh, the duchess is right." A nostalgic smile appeared on his face. "To be frank, you remind me of my younger self. My father used to train me with a rapier when I was around your age."

Clara smiled.

"Really?"

Quentin nodded.

"Just like you, I had sore arms and legs during my first training sessions. Unfortunately for me, mine was even harsher. I was never particularly talented with a rapier."

Clara giggled.

"I don't believe that, Uncle Quentin. I think you're one of the most formidable rapier wielders in Wintermere."

Quentin waved a hand dismissively.

"You've been spending too much time around Veridonia. It seems the air here has distorted your judgment."

Clara huffed.

"No, I am quite certain of it. Stop being humble, Uncle Quentin!"

"Humble? My lady, I am merely telling the truth."

"That sounds like something a humble person would say."

Quentin stared at her for a moment before letting out a defeated sigh. The two shared a laugh that made Clara forget the ache in her arms, if only for a moment.

As their laughter faded, Quentin's gaze drifted to the rapier hanging at her waist.

"How is your accuracy, my lady?"