The Grand Duke's Son Is A Heretic-Chapter 198

The golden sun hovered low in the sky, casting long shadows across the polished stone of the training court. A crowd had gathered around the sparring arena—nobles, servants, and guards alike—eyes fixed on the battle unfolding at its center.

A woman with vivid purple hair, tied into a high braid that whipped through the air like a banner of defiance, stood alone against four armored knights. In her hands, she wielded only a wooden practice sword—smooth, polished, but unassuming. Yet in her grasp, it moved with deadly grace.

"Begin!" barked the instructor.

The knights surged forward, swords raised high. Metal clanged. Dust kicked up. But the purple-haired woman didn't flinch.

Her body flowed like water, steps light but firm. She twisted sideways as the first knight slashed downward. Her wooden blade darted up not to meet it, but to redirect. With a deft parry, she caught the edge of his sword and pivoted, sending him stumbling forward off balance.

Without pause, she slid low like a panther and swept her leg under him. The knight hit the ground with a grunt.

The second came in immediately, attempting a quick stab to her midsection. She sidestepped with barely an inch to spare and rotated her wrist. Her wooden blade jabbed into the soft spot between his arm and chest plate, hitting his pressure point. His fingers spasmed. The sword fell from his hand.

With a clean motion, she caught his sword midair, spun, and used it to block the third knight's strike. The sound of steel striking steel rang out, but it was her wooden sword that retaliated, smacking him sharply across the helmet before her foot lashed out, kicking his chest and sending him reeling backward.

The fourth knight, older and more experienced, took a step back. He raised his sword in a high guard stance—two hands firmly gripping the hilt, blade angled downward in readiness. His stance was grounded and traditional, taught in military academies and refined in real war.

But she smirked.

"Too slow."

Her foot slammed into the ground. With a burst of speed, she dashed forward, movements blurring. She ducked beneath his first swing, twisted behind him, and struck at the back of his knee. As he staggered, she flipped her wooden blade upward with a flourish, disarming him cleanly. With a final, graceful spin, she placed the tip of her wooden sword at his neck. freewebnσvel.cѳm

"Yield."

The knight hesitated… then dropped to one knee. "I yield."

Cheers erupted from the sidelines. Servants clapped. A few of the younger guards whistled in awe.

"Marvelous!"

"I've never seen such finesse with a wooden sword!"

"She dismantled trained knights with such grace!"

The woman sheathed her wooden sword across her back, her breath barely disturbed. With calm poise, she turned toward a figure sitting beneath a shaded pergola—a woman wearing a neat black dress, silver hair pinned tightly, and a shining monocle perched over one eye.

"So, how is it?" the purple-haired swordswoman asked, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.

A small smile tugged at her lips. "Haven't I improved?"

The monocled woman sipped her tea, set the cup down with precision, and gave her a long look—measured, calculating, and calm.

Then she smiled faintly.

"You've surpassed expectations, milady. Not improved, rather you have transcended."

"You are as marvellous as ever. With this type of growth rate, I am sure that you can further move up the list," the monocle-wearing woman said with a soft smile, her eyes gleaming with approval.

Adele gave a small nod of acknowledgment, handing the wooden sword to a nearby maid. She took a towel from the maid's tray and began wiping her face, her movements elegant yet brisk.

"Your words are quite pleasing to hear," she said lightly as she strode past the crowd and headed toward the manor's inner wing.

….

The office smelled faintly of ink, wood, and burning wax. Maps of various territories hung across the walls, with red and black pins marking specific zones. Adele stood near the wide table, arms folded, as her top lieutenants stood in line.

She turned slightly. "Anything about Kael?"

The Captain of the Guard, a tall, gruff man with a shaved jawline, cleared his throat and gave a low bow. "We can't find any trace of him, milady. Not in the Blue Knight region under His Grace, not anywhere nearby. It's as if he vanished into thin air."

A younger officer added hesitantly, "Lord Grant is actively searching for him. He's even hired trackers to locate and, if possible... eliminate him quietly. But…"

"But we've found nothing," the Captain finished grimly.

Adele's frown deepened as she leaned on the edge of the table. Her younger half-brother, Kael—once nothing more than an irrelevant background character in her life—had grown from a nobody to a legitimate threat. And that thought gnawed at her.

A D-Rank within a month. That alone had been startling. Two months had passed since the Northern Expedition—plenty of time for further growth. No one knew where he was or what level of power he had reached now.

"Grant said it was better to get rid of him while he's still in hiding," Adele muttered. "But for that, we need to find him first."

Mariana, still seated elegantly on a couch, adjusted her monocle with one hand. "Milady, you are wasting too much time and resources on him."

Adele shot her a glance, but Mariana continued, unbothered.

"I understand your concerns. But who knows how long he'll remain missing? A month? A year? If he's truly gone to ground, we can't keep diverting manpower for something we may never catch. Meanwhile, you have bigger priorities."

Adele's expression darkened but she didn't interrupt.

Mariana gave a slow, sly smile. "Miss, it's better to focus on what you can control. Because by the time Kael returns, you might already become the Duchess."

That thought hit hard—and stuck.

Adele's eyes sharpened as she took a deep breath. "You're right. I've been too fixated."

She turned to the Captain. "Any other important updates?"

"Yes, Miss." He straightened his posture. "The shipment from the Night Star is about to reach the northern port. His Highness has requested that you oversee its arrival personally."

"Me?" Adele arched an eyebrow. "Why would the Prince want me to handle that directly?"

The Captain looked uncertain. "I don't know the exact reason. But one thing is clear—as per the latest reports, all imperial family members are being called back to the capital."

A moment of silence.

Both Adele and Mariana exchanged a sharp glance. The air in the room tensed like a drawn bowstring.

Mariana was the first to speak. "It seems... the situation we least expected is beginning."

"The fight for succession?" Adele murmured.

"It may very well have started." Mariana leaned forward slightly. "And I advise you to consider this very carefully, milady. The stakes are far higher than before. This path you wish to walk... may lead to ruin if misjudged."

Adele closed her eyes, thinking. Her heartbeat had risen, not out of fear—but excitement. She took in a long breath and then exhaled.

"There have been female Dukes before… but they were nothing more than figureheads."

She opened her eyes, fierce and full of ambition.

"What I need is real power. And for that—" she paused, lips curling upward just slightly, "—I must act before anyone else dares to."