The Duke's Unwanted Second Wife

Eilika sat on the soft grass near the pond, surrounded by the children who were happily painting on their small canvases.

When the children finished their paintings, Eilika rose from her seat and began walking from one child to another, carefully observing their artwork. Each canvas carried bright colors and innocent imagination, crooked houses, colorful animals, and skies filled with stars or birds. A gentle smile spread across her face as she admired their efforts.

"You all did wonderfully," she said softly, pleased with their enthusiasm.

Just then, Leo suddenly raised his hand and looked up at her.

"Madam, I feel hungry," he said.

Eilika blinked in mild surprise.

"But we just had a meal about an hour ago," Kael quickly pointed out, glancing at Leo with confusion.

Leo rubbed his stomach dramatically. "I’m hungry again," he insisted.

Eilika couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at his earnest expression. She glanced toward the sky and noticed the sun climbing higher, its warmth growing stronger.

"You can go back to the cottage with the maid," she said gently. "Actually, I think all of you should head back now. The sun is getting quite strong, and it’s becoming too hot to stay outside." She gazed at the maids, who stepped forward and led the children back to the cottage, except for Roman.

"Mama, did I draw well? I am not good at painting," Roman said, looking at the canvas.

"For your age, you have drawn well, Roman," Eilika said. A maid stepped forward with the umbrella covering the two of them with it. Eilika took it from her and ordered, "Get everything cleaned here."

"Mama, you are so lovely," Roman hugged Eilika from her legs. Her hand moved to his hair as she ruffled them.

"Let’s head back," Eilika said gently, glancing at the children as she began gathering the painting supplies.

"But I’m not hungry," Roman said, lifting his head from his canvas.

Eilika paused and looked at him. There was something thoughtful in his expression that caught her attention.

"Are you missing Father?" Roman asked suddenly. "I wonder if he has gone on another dangerous mission."

His words surprised her.

"Huh? Why do you say that?" Eilika asked softly, kneeling slightly and cupping his cheek with her hand.

Roman looked down at the grass for a moment before answering. "Because Father often goes on missions," he said. "Sometimes he doesn’t come back for weeks."

Then he leaned closer to her and lowered his voice.

"I’m not supposed to say this in front of the others," he added carefully. "But Mama... you shouldn’t worry too much about Father. He will return soon."

A bright, reassuring smile spread across his face. Eilika returned the smile, though a quiet thought crossed her mind.

Why do I feel that Roman misses his father more than I do?

She gently ruffled his hair before straightening up.

"Roman," she said warmly, "how about we have a horse-riding session?"

She began walking with him toward the stable path, holding an umbrella to shield them from the rising sun.

Roman’s curiosity returned instantly. "Does Mama know how to ride a horse?" he asked, looking up at her with wide eyes.

Eilika smiled. "Yes," she replied calmly. "I do."

~~~~~

Damian and Maurice sat quietly at their table, eating their breakfast while keeping a careful watch on the group of brigands seated across the room. The brigands were louder than everyone else, their rough voices and careless laughter filling the hall. From the bits of conversation Damian had managed to overhear, it seemed they were planning to leave later that day.

Damian kept his attention fixed on them while slowly finishing his meal. He had been waiting for the right moment to provoke them, something that would allow him to challenge them openly without raising suspicion about his true intentions.

Soon, an opportunity presented itself.

A young servant walked past their table carrying a tray filled with food and drinks meant for the brigands. As the servant stepped between the tables, Damian quietly stretched his leg forward.

The servant’s foot caught against it.

The poor man stumbled and fell straight toward the brigands’ table. The tray slipped from his hands, and everything on it, bowls, bread, and drinks, spilled across the table and onto the men sitting there.

One of the brigands, clearly their leader, shot up from his seat, glaring at the mess soaking into his expensive robes.

"Don’t you have eyes?" he barked angrily at the servant.

The terrified servant quickly scrambled to his knees, pointing shakily toward Damian.

"H-he did it," he stammered. "The man at that table... he moved his leg."

Several of the brigands immediately turned their heads toward Damian.

Damian slowly stood up from his chair, a faint grin spreading across his face as he faced them without the slightest hint of fear.

"Yes," he said calmly. "I did move my leg."

The men stared at him, waiting for his explanation.

"But I did it for a reason," Damian continued, his gaze sweeping across the group. "I wanted to see if anyone among you is actually capable of protecting your leader."

"What?" the leader barked, his face twisting with anger and disbelief. He did not waste another second.

"Attack him!" he ordered his men.

Four brigands immediately rose from their seats, drawing their weapons and rushing toward Damian with furious expressions. Chairs scraped across the floor as the other people quickly moved away from the tables, sensing the fight that was about to break out.

Damian and Maurice exchanged a brief glance.

That was all the signal they needed.

The first brigand lunged forward, swinging his blade wildly, but Damian stepped aside with ease. In the same motion, he grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted it sharply, forcing the weapon to fall from his hand before driving his elbow into the man’s ribs.

At the same time, Maurice moved with equal speed. He blocked another attacker’s strike and swept the man’s legs from under him, sending him crashing onto the wooden floor.

Within moments, the hall was filled with the sounds of blows landing and men groaning in pain.

The fight ended almost as quickly as it had begun.

The four brigands who had attacked them now lay scattered across the floor, defeated and struggling to move.

Damian calmly stepped forward and placed the heel of his thick boot on the chest of one of the fallen men, pinning him down. A confident smirk spread across his face as he looked back toward the brigand leader.

"It seems these men are not capable of protecting you," Damian said coolly.

Then he tilted his head slightly.

"So why not let us join your group instead?"

The leader blinked in confusion, clearly not expecting such a proposal.

"What?" he said slowly, staring at them. "You two want to work for me?"

Damian shrugged casually, removing his boot from the defeated man before folding his arms.

"Yes," he replied with a grin. "Because the two of us alone cannot make a proper group. We need stronger allies."

He gestured toward the defeated men on the floor.

"And you, on the other hand, need better warriors."

His smile widened slightly.

"Trust me... you will not find fighters better than us."