Investing in My Crippled Wife: My Duchess Makes me Overpowered

She studied his face. He could see her searching for something. Fear, maybe. Or doubt.

”I don’t like this,” she said.

”I know.”

She was quiet for a moment. Then she reached up with her free hand and touched his face. Her fingers traced the line of his jaw.

”Don’t be stupid,” she said.

”I’ll try.”

”That’s not good enough.”

”It’s all I’ve got.”

She smiled an unreal smile. He coukd tell it was as fake as it it got.

”Come back,” she said. ”That’s all I ask.”

He pressed his forehead to hers.

”I will.”

---

Tatia was waiting in the hallway.

Emeric found her leaning against the wall, her expression neutral, her eyes fixed on a spot in the distance. She looked up when he appeared.

”She’s settled,” Emeric said, closing the door behind him.

”You love her.”

Emeric said nothing.

”I’ve seen that look before,” she continued. ”The look of a man who would burn the world down to keep someone safe.”

His jaw tightened, unsure how he felt about being exposed by a strange woman he had only met the day before.

”Just take care of her.”

”I will.”

”Tatia.”

She waited.

”Thank you.”

She nodded. ”Come back alive, Mr. Halden. That’s all the thanks I need.”

Emeric walked to the door. He paused with his hand on the handle.

He wanted to look back, to see her one more time. But that would be too dramatic. He didn’t.

He opened the door and walked out into the morning.

[DEVOTION LOGGED: PROVIDING TARGET WITH CAREGIVER— TRUST AND PROTECTION]

[DP AWARDED: +3]

[BOND METER: 73 → 74]

He mentally swiped the notification, bracing for the day to come.

—-

Royal Hunting Grounds

The Royal Hunting Grounds sprawled across the foothills like a canvas city.

Tents of silk and canvas dotted the fields in neat rows, their banners snapping in the wind.

The colors of a hundred noble houses flew side by side—red and gold, blue and silver, green and white. Knights in gleaming armor patrolled the perimeter. Squires rushed between tents carrying supplies. Servants hauled firewood and water.

At the center of it all, the Royal Pavilion rose like a monument, easily drawing attention with its white and gold. The Magenta crest emblazoned across its peak.

Emeric stood at the edge of the encampment and took it all in.

The Azure Mountains stretched before him like a living wall. Ancient trees with trunks as wide as houses. Mountains rising in the distance, their peaks white with snow. Rivers cutting through the landscape like silver veins.

He had never seen anything like it.

He adjusted the strap of his pack and walked forward.

He was one of the few who arrived without a retinue.

Most noble houses had brought squires, servants, and hired mercenaries. Some had dozens of men. The weak hired strength. The strong flaunted it.

Emeric had only his sword. His armor. His pack.

He had scraped the last of their savings to afford the armor from Bjorn. It was simple steel, functional, unadorned. No family crest or decorative engravings. It was just for protection after all.

His mind went to Isolde, wondering what she was doing right now.

No. He had to focus on the task ahead.

He found the area designated for House Halden and set down his pack.

There was no tent or supplies. Just a patch of grass and the expectation that he would figure it out.

He was still arranging his things when he heard the voice.

”Well, well. The hero arrives.”

Emeric turned, his body tensing. He knew who it was before he turned.

Kaelen stood a few feet away, flanked by two lesser nobles from minor houses. His brother wore gleaming plate armor, polished to a mirror shine. A retinue of servants hovered behind him, carrying supplies, weapons, and a tent that probably cost more than Emeric’s entire wardrobe.

Kaelen’s smile was sharp.

”Father was insistent,” he said. ”I’m to accompany you. Make sure you don’t embarrass the house.”

”I thought I was representing House Halden.”

”You are.” Kaelen’s smile widened. ”I’m just here to supervise.”

Emeric said nothing. He returned to arranging his pack.

Kaelen stepped closer, his hands resting on the hilt of his overly adorned sword.

”I told Father it was a mistake. Letting you represent us. But he wouldn’t listen.” He laughed. ”Something about how the duel made him see a new side of you. About how you’d ’proved yourself.’”

Emeric didn’t look up.

”I don’t care what you think, Kaelen.”

”No. I imagine you don’t.” His brother’s voice dropped. ”But you should. Because I’m going to be watching you. And if you embarrass this house—”

”You’ll what?” Emeric finally turned, meeting his brother’s gaze. ”You’ll make my life difficult? You already have. For years. There’s nothing you can do to me that you haven’t already tried.”

Something flickered in Kaelen’s eyes. It seemed like surprise, then anger.

Kaelen’s right hand man leaned in, whispering something in his ear.

Emeric’s jaw tightened. Kaelen and Brian had made his life hell growing up.

Brian had grown up to be an exceptional knight.

Emeric’s gaze fixed on them as he projected a bored expression.

”You think you’re better than me now? Just because you won one duel against a washed-up noble?”

”I think I don’t care about you at all.”

Kaelen’s face went red.

”This isn’t over.”

”It’s barely started.”

Kaelen turned and stalked away, his retinue scrambling after him.

Emeric watched him go. Then he turned back to his pack.

That was going to be fun.

An hour later, Emeric was wandering through the encampment when he heard the laughter.

A group of young nobles had gathered near the supply tents. They were well-dressed, well-fed, and clearly bored. They spotted him before he could avoid them.

”The Unblessed Halden,” one of them called. ”I heard you won a duel. It must have been a lucky day.”

Emeric kept walking.

”Don’t ignore us, Halden. We’re trying to be friendly.”

He stopped and turned.

”Is that what you call it?”

The nobleman laughed. ”I call it curiosity. How does a failure suddenly become a fighter?”

Emeric studied him. He was young. Arrogant. Surrounded by friends who laughed at everything he said.

”I trained.”

”Trained? For what? A week?”

”Longer.”