The Grand Duke's Son Is A Heretic
Chapter 225

The entourage of the Princess arrived at the outskirts of Nevan, a windswept trading town nestled beneath sharp cliff walls and flanked by golden plains.

The air held a biting chill, and the sky was draped in soft grey clouds, diffusing the light over the cobbled paths and old stone ruins scattered nearby—a place that held more history than life now.

A ruined watchtower stood half-collapsed beside the main road, its broken arches creating a natural canopy overhead. It was here that the Princess halted the group. The old stone floor beneath their boots was etched with time, and the wind carried a quiet whisper of bygone battles and secrets.

Martina stepped forward with a commanding air, her silver armor subtly veiled under a heavy cloak of navy and gold. Her greenish eyes scanned the gathered group—knights, attendants, guards, and scouts, all with upright backs and lowered heads.

"This is where we part ways," she said, her voice sharp and clear as a blade cutting through fog. "From this point onward, the main mission will proceed under disguise."

A murmur swept through the crowd, but it was quickly stifled.

"All servants and personnel not on the core mission will head to the eastern hideout—Siaska Base, 60 kilometers from here," she continued. "Wait for further orders there and maintain full blackout. You will be contacted only through the secure line."

One of the knights hesitated before saluting. "Understood, Your Highness!"

She turned her back to them, her cloak swirling like a shadow as she gave the final command. "Move swiftly and draw no attention. Our enemies are not blind."

Kael stood silently near the rear, unease gripping his chest. The thought of separating from Lyria weighed heavily—especially with the egg. The magical core inside it resonated with something deep within him, a thread of instinct he couldn't ignore.

As the soldiers began mounting their horses and wagons prepared to depart, Kael stepped forward.

He lowered his head and spoke with respectful weight. "Your Highness, may I speak?"

Martina paused, glancing over her shoulder. "Yes, what is it, Ael?"

Kael took a breath. "It's about my woman—Lyria. She's… not a strong awakened. After the last incident, she's lost much of her memory. And with the egg in her care…"

Martina arched her brow, frowning slightly. "Isn't she a Demon? They are naturally gifted, aren't they?"

Kael scratched the back of his head, visibly uncomfortable. "They are. But… not in her state. Her instincts are dulled. The egg—it makes me feel... on edge. Like something's drawing too much attention."

Martina held his gaze for a moment, then her expression softened slightly. "I understand."

She stepped closer, her tone serious. "The egg is certainly not ordinary. But rest easy—I give you my word, she will be protected. I will personally assign a specialist to ensure her safety until we regroup."

Kael bowed deeply this time. "Your words are enough, Your Highness."

She nodded, then turned to the nearby elite guards.

Kael talked a bit with Lyria.

"It's okay, Master, I will take care,"Lydia answered dully.

Though Kael couldn't discern anything from her expression, he felt a bit stifled.

He didn't like it as it felt like she was throwing Lyria here and there.

He grabbed her and spoke," Lyria take care of yourself. The guards would make sure you are safe but if they make things difficult for you report it to me when I am back. I will make sure to pay them."

Kael spoke coldly.

Lyria nodded with the same emotionless face.

After a quick hand signal, the final selection was made. Other than Martina, Kael, and Sol the quiet rogue with sharp eyes—five more were chosen.

Frey and Linda, two deadly women with grace and speed; Adonis

built like moving mountains; and Herion, a pale man with deep green eyes and a heavy cloak who always carried books and whispered spells under his breath.

All of them were top A-rankers, no doubt about it.

Kael couldn't help but look at them and wonder, What am I even doing here? Compared to these people, he felt like a dagger among swords.

But as he observed Martina's piercing gaze as she reviewed her chosen ones, a realization flickered.

Maybe I won't be part of the whole group. Maybe… it'll be me and one more.

Real infiltration…

He sighed inwardly and adjusted his mask. The path ahead was growing darker, but the game had only just begun.

...

The hidden grove behind the ruined watchtower offered a quiet refuge, and under its shadowy veil, the group began their transformation.

Martina stood at the center, holding a small oval device, shimmering faintly with runes. "Hair first," she ordered, glancing around. "We'll need uniformity. Ael—want to change yours too?"

Kael paused. His raven-black hair already did its part in keeping him hidden, especially in night missions. Everyone else, though, seemed excited.

Martina raised the magical device, and with a faint hum, it hovered over her head. Her silver-blonde locks turned pitch-black in a blink. No wet dye, no messy handwork—just seamless, instantaneous magic.

Kael blinked. Damn, that's a great thing.

The others followed.

Linda giggled as her fiery red turned jet black. "Ugh, I already miss the spice."

Frey scoffed. "You'll live. Better than catching a blade to the neck."

Adonis and Adolph simply grunted, the device barely fitting over their heads due to sheer size.

Sol danced forward, tossing his short hair. "Ooooh, time to shine! Or I guess we're going incognito."

With a playful hum, he activated the device, his blonde curls becoming sleek black in seconds. "Do I look deadly? Like a mysterious traveler with a dark past?"

Herion muttered, not even looking up from his book, "You look like someone who will get us caught with too much talking."

Sol pouted. "So mean, Mr. Dark and Broody."

Martina finally turned back to Kael. "You sure you don't want to go grey? Too much uniformity will make you stand out. And grey fits infiltration better than pitch black. Could be a way to throw off identification."

Kael shrugged after a beat. "Nah. I'll keep this. Black's my natural look. Plus, I'm not planning on reverting later. Would rather not mess with it."

In fact, if possible he wants to but he can't. For hiding black is the best. If yours is black then people change to grey but wouldn't that mean reverting to his original colour?

Martina nodded without pressing further. "Your call."

With their hair now matched, the group began equipping themselves.

Their rich cloaks and house sigils were folded away and hidden. In their place were simple brown and olive tunics, faded like common foot soldiers. Every weapon was tucked tightly at the waist, boot, or hidden sleeve—small daggers, foldable crossbows, mana-infused smoke bombs, and more. Their faces, through hardened, blended easily into the crowd of worn mercenaries or caravan guards.

Amidst the quiet bustle, Martina stepped forward and handed each of them a small obsidian ring.

Kael turned his in his hand, noticing faint etchings—runes for inventory compression. As he poured a hint of mana into it, a flash of light emerged, revealing a massive stock of potions—healing, mana, resistance, even rare antidotes.

His eyes widened.

"Don't hesitate to use them," Martina said firmly. "If you're down, you're a burden. Life comes first."

'So generous!' Kael screamed inwardly. He didn't expect so much thought behind each detail.

She had prepared thoroughly… quite a good leader, Kael silently assessed, his respect for the princess rising several notches.

Once everyone was geared, disguised, and mentally prepared, Martina gave a short nod.

"Time to move."

And with that, the seven shadows took to the worn path toward the distant city.

Search the lightnovelworld.cc website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.