The Grand Duke's Soulmate
Chapter 175: The Honourable Royal Concubine of Gerhard (I)

Chapter 175: The Honourable Royal Concubine of Gerhard (I)

The drunken men stumbled unsteadily, their movements erratic and uncoordinated. In their intoxicated state, one of the Bargesians carelessly collided with a passerby, prompting a sharp reaction from him.

"Hey, watch where you’re going!" he exclaimed in irritation.

However, as he lifted his gaze, the Bargesian was taken aback to find himself face to face with two towering figures possessing striking good looks.

Despite the clash, the two men exuded an air of calm and composure. With impeccable manners, one of them spoke politely, "Excuse us," before gracefully continuing on their way towards the inn that Brone and his men had just exited.

The Bargesian squinted his eyes, a sense of curiosity and intrigue washing over him. There was something undeniably different about these two men, their appearance distinct from the Cassians they typically encountered.

With a dismissive shrug, the Bargesian turned on his heel, quickening his pace to catch up with his group, who had forged ahead.

As he joined them, their progress came to an abrupt halt when Brone, whose eyes were heavy with fatigue, suddenly succumbed to the intensity of his hangover.

"Bluergh!!"

A torrent of vomit spewed forth from the Bargesian’s leader’s throat, splattering onto the unforgiving ground. The hangover had left him so weakened that he had yet to regain full consciousness after a night of excessive drinking.

Barely maintaining his balance, Brone nearly succumbed to the ground if it weren’t for the quick reflexes of his assistant, Mikhal, who caught him just in time. However, as their bodies collided, Brone’s vomit splashed onto the unfortunate man’s outfit, causing him to recoil in disgust.

"D*mn it!" Mikhal shouted angrily, his hand smeared with the repulsive mess. "Hey, help me support the lord!" he called out to one of the Bargesians who, still inebriated and far from fully recovered, stumbled over with unsteady steps.

Two of them, swaying precariously, managed to reach their leader and held him up while the assistant distanced himself to cleanse his filthy hand and outfit, determined to rid himself of the unpleasant remnants.

Still feeling the effects of their intoxication, they decided to take a moment and settle down on the ground, the only place available to rest amidst the busy crowd.

Realising the need to tidy up their dishevelled appearances, Mikhal diligently set to work, carefully cleaning the mess on both his lord’s and his outfits. The process took some time, as he worked meticulously to restore their appearance to a more presentable state.

"Your lord has indulged in drink as if no liquor was left for tomorrow! If only he had exercised some restraint and not attempted to consume gallons of beer, he wouldn’t find himself in this sorry state. It’s truly irritating!" sneered Derek, his faculties clouded by their celebration’s effects.

The potent liquor they had imbibed the previous night had been so enticingly good that most of them had found it impossible to resist.

Consequently, most of the group had yet to regain their sobriety fully, their senses still muddled from the weight of their excessive drinking.

Dawn had already broken by the time they stumbled out of the inn, their bodies weary from a night of revelry.

In the distance, faint strains of music drifted towards them, carried by the parade approaching the plaza.

A spark of realisation ignited within one of Brone’s men, prompting him to shout, "Hey... the procession is coming! Didn’t the lord mention that he wished to see the concubine?"

Mikhal let out a disdainful scoff, fully aware of their lord’s sorry state.

"His brain seems to have shut down completely. It would be utterly humiliating if His Majesty and the ministers were to witness us in this condition. Let us retreat to the palace quietly," he suggested.

The rest of the men nodded in agreement, their own disgust amplified by the repugnant smell emanating from Brone’s vomit-soiled mouth, which hung heavy in the air.

"Urgh! You smell worse than a rotten egg!" one of the Bargesians exclaimed, wrinkling his nose in disgust as he caught a whiff of the foul stench from Brone’s assistant.

"Shut up! If you have the audacity, say that to the lord when he wakes up!" Mikhal retorted sharply. "Now, everyone, let’s move!"

The sound of the jubilant celebration from the approaching parade grew louder, carried by the breeze that swept through the streets.

Amidst it all, Derek’s eyes widened as he caught a familiar scent, one that stirred his senses in his inebriated state.

"Am I too drunk?" he mumbled to himself, perplexed by the unexpected encounter with the scent of the Ro’an descendant once again.

In an attempt to gather his thoughts, Derek vigorously shook his head multiple times, hoping to clear the fog in his mind. And then, unmistakably, the scent reached him once more.

"I must investigate this further! Perhaps they truly are here," he pondered aloud, contemplating the implications of his discovery.

With a determined expression, Derek signalled for the men to proceed without him. He positioned himself beneath a tree on the side of the road, blending in with the crowd that had gathered to witness the grand parade. His senses heightened as he awaited further confirmation of his suspicions.

A crescendo of exuberant cheers filled the air, reverberating through the cobblestone street as the royal carriage made its grand entrance. The anticipation reached its zenith as it drew closer, accompanied by a procession of unparalleled splendour.

Behind the royal carriage, the grand duke and his stunning concubine rode on a majestic horse, gaining attention with their regal presence.

Kyren, adorned in resplendent formal attire, exuded a captivating charm that left onlookers in awe. His countenance radiated authority and charisma, befitting his esteemed position.

As the royal carriage made its regal procession through the streets of Gantz, the people instinctively bowed and curtsied, a collective gesture of deep respect and reverence to the royal family.

Whispers of excitement circulated among the crowd, carried on the winds of anticipation. Among the spectators, a group of ladies stood near Derek, their eyes widening with delight as they recognised the figures before them.

"Oh, my! Look at that! It’s His Highness, the Grand Duke! That woman must be his concubine!" one of the ladies exclaimed, unable to contain her excitement.

The sight of the grand duke mounted on his noble steed, Maximillian, prompted another lady to interject with awe.

The procession unfolded before their eyes, a breathtaking display of power and opulence, as royal guards, the valiant Knights of Gerhard, nobles, lord and ladies-in-waiting, and various government officials joined the grand duke and his concubine in the parade.

The collective magnificence of the entourage created a spectacle that captivated the hearts and imagination of all those fortunate enough to witness it.

"Wait! Isn’t that his warhorse? The legendary Maximillian? The finest breed of horse in all of Cassian?" said the first lady.

"Indeed, it is! This is truly remarkable!" one of them, the second lady, confirmed, sharing the astonishment with her companions.

"What is so remarkable?" inquired a curious third lady, drawn into the conversation.

The first lady who initiated the topic leaned in to share the intriguing tidbit.

"Haven’t you heard? It’s said that no one else has been able to ride that horse except for His Highness! They claim the steed despises everyone else. But look at the lady riding him now, and the horse is behaving perfectly," she revealed, her voice filled with astonishment.

The third lady’s interest piqued, and she sought further details. "Really? Where did you come across this information?" she inquired eagerly.

"My cousin works in the royal stable. Occasionally, His Highness would bring his horse there. Maximillian is no ordinary steed! He is renowned as the finest and strongest stallion but notoriously difficult to handle. No one, not even His Majesty, can ride him. Even changing his horseshoes becomes a daunting task that requires His Highness’s presence to calm him down," she disclosed, sharing the insider knowledge with her friends.

Growing increasingly annoyed by the loud conversation, Derek clicked his tongue in irritation. The ladies turned their heads to him and glared when they heard the sound.

Sensing their gazes upon him, he quickly averted his eyes, diverting his attention elsewhere, feigning disinterest. The ladies, oblivious to his annoyance, resumed their discussion, engrossed in their admiration of the handsome Kyren.

Meanwhile, Derek’s gaze fixated on the concubine atop the horse. The grand duke lovingly encircled her waist with one hand, his other hand firmly gripping the reins. As he continued to observe her, a peculiar sensation surged within the mage.

As the procession continued its majestic journey, the faint sense that had caught Derek’s attention returned, teasing his awareness.

Suddenly, from the opposite side of the road, he spotted a towering figure, cloaked and wearing a hood, swiftly making his way through the crowd, unapologetically pushing others aside.

Strangely, instead of provoking anger, the presence of this mysterious man seemed to instil fear in those who noticed him. They quickly parted ways, allowing him to pass unhindered.

It appeared as if he intended to halt the procession, but his progress was abruptly ended by a slender lady donning pants and a long cloak, also wearing a hooded cloak. The air around the man exuded an uncanny aura, unsettling Derek.

Frowning, Derek lifted his hand, feeling the subtle breeze against his skin. The parade continued to pass by, yet his gaze remained fixated on the enigmatic man. And then, a realisation struck him, causing his eyes to widen in disbelief.

The hooded figure emanated a peculiar enchantment, along with a faint sense of the Ro’an descendant as the parade moved, a presence that both surprised and intrigued the mage.

"It can’t be!" he muttered to himself, unable to fathom that the person he was looking for was amidst the crowd.

Curiosity was getting the better of the lady beside him, and she inquired, "What can’t be?"

Derek cleared his throat and pulled a serious expression.

"I wasn’t speaking to you! Turn around!" he snapped, signalling her with a rude, dismissive wave of his hand.

"Humph!" she huffed, turning away in a sour face.

As soon as the parade concluded and the road cleared, the determined mage swiftly crossed the street, his eyes darting around in search of the two peculiar individuals.

He scanned the area until he spotted them moving further ahead to the front to observe the royal families settling into their seats on the grand stage. Accompanying the peculiar figures were an older woman and an approximately fifteen-year-old teenager.

The event commenced with a solemn moment of prayer. The entire assembly bowed their heads in reverent silence as the chief priest led the recitation of the sacred words, imbuing the air with a sense of devotion.

Following the prayer, the king took centre stage to deliver his speech. Derek, however, remained disinterested in the royal proclamation.

His gaze remained fixed on the two individuals he had been observing earlier, and he forged his way through the crowd, determined to approach them.

As the king’s speech drew to a close, he made a momentous announcement that resonated throughout the venue.

"...I hereby proclaim Lady Anna Raychard as the Honourable Royal Concubine of Gerhard," his words echoed in the air, eliciting enthusiastic applause and joyous cheers from the crowd.

The faint sense of the Ro’an lineage grew stronger as Derek drew nearer to the two individuals standing close to the stage.

His perception tingled with the presence of a potent enchantment emanating from the cloak. Behind Kiev’s back, the mage reached out his hand, ready to touch him.

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