Investing in My Crippled Wife: My Duchess Makes me Overpowered

The time of departure arrived not long after the queen had left.

Emeric stood in the yard of their small house, watching the servants that had come to help them load the last of their belongings into the wagon. It wasn’t much. A few trunks of clothes. Some books. The sword wrapped in cloth. A small wooden box that held the last remnants of their old life.

Isolde sat in her chair near the door, wrapped in a thick cloak. Tatia stood beside her, a bag slung over her shoulder.

Nyxie’s box was loaded last.

The voidling was still deep in hibernation. Her small body curled in the wooden box lined with soft blankets. Emeric had checked on her every day since she went under. No change. No movement. Just the faint pulse of life that told him she was still there.

He lifted the box carefully. Placed it in the wagon himself. Covered it with a blanket to keep out the cold.

’Sleep well,’ he thought. ’When you wake, we’ll have a home.’

Collin arrived first.

The big man walked into the yard with his shield on his back and a heavy pack in his hands. He stopped in front of Emeric. Held out the pack.

”Supplies. For the road. Mira packed them.”

Emeric took it. ”Thank you.”

Collin nodded. Then he looked at Isolde. Nodded to her too.

”My lady.”

”Collin.” She smiled. ”Thank you for taking care of him.”

”He takes care of himself. Mostly.” Collin paused. ”He’s a pain in the ass sometimes. But he’s our pain in the ass.”

Maynard arrived next. He was moving better now—still stiff. He carried his new bow. Bjorn’s work. He handed Emeric a small pouch.

”Daggers. Fire-enchanted. Just in case.”

Emeric took it. ”You didn’t have to.”

”I know.” Maynard shrugged. ”But you saved my life. This is the least I can do.”

Mira—the party’s healer—came last. She didn’t bring anything. She just hugged him. Tight.

”Be careful,” she whispered. ”And take care of her.”

”I will.”

She pulled back. Wiped her eyes. ”We’ll find you. When you’re settled. We’ll come.”

”I’ll hold you to that.”

”Clarisse had some urgent business to attend to. She sends her regards.” Collin said, patting him on the back.

The farewell was brief. Warriors weren’t good at goodbyes. They clasped arms. Nodded. Made promises they intended to keep.

Then they walked away.

Emeric watched them go. He had a new life now. A new home.

And they had their own paths to walk.

---

The journey took three days.

The roads were rough. The weather was colder than expected. But the wagon held. The horses were steady. Tatia kept Isolde comfortable. Emeric rode ahead, scouting the way.

On the second day, they passed through a small village. The people stopped and stared. A noble. With a crippled wife. And a dwarf-made wagon. They didn’t know what to make of it.

Emeric didn’t care.

On the third day, they crested a hill and Greyfell came into view.

It was not what he expected.

The land rolled out before him—acres of farmland, golden and green, stretching toward the horizon. A river cut through the center of the domain, wide and slow, its waters glinting in the afternoon light. On the far side, a mill turned lazily, its wheel creaking in the current.

The village sat at the heart of it all. Stone houses. Thatched roofs. A square with a well and a market cross. Smoke rose from chimneys. Children ran through the streets. Dogs barked.

It was alive.

Not thriving—not quite. But alive.

The manor house stood on a low hill overlooking the village. Stone walls. Slate roof. Ivy creeping up the sides. Old but sturdy. A house that had been lived in for generations.

Emeric stopped the wagon at the edge of the ridge. Looked at what he had been given.

Isolde wheeled up beside him.

”It’s...” She paused.

”Beautiful.” She said, her eyes filled with glee.

”It’s ours.”

He took her hand.

”Together.”

The people of Greyfell were wary.

They watched from fields. From doorways. From windows. They had seen nobles come and go. They had been promised things before. They had learned not to hope.

Emeric didn’t blame them.

He stopped the wagon in the village square. Climbed down. Helped Isolde down. Then he stood in the center of the square and raised his voice.

”My name is Emeric Halden. I am your new baron. I know you didn’t ask for me. I know you don’t trust me. That’s fine. I wouldn’t trust me either.”

A few faces appeared in the windows.

”I’m not here to take more than you can give. But I believe we can make Greyfell great again.”

Silence.

Then a door opened. An old woman stepped out. Grey hair. Weathered face. Hands like gnarled roots.

”Pretty words,” she said. ”We’ve heard pretty words before.”

”I’m sure you have.” Emeric met her gaze. ”But I’m not leaving. I’m moving into that manor. I’m going to live here. My wife is going to live here. And we’re going to do everything we can to make this place better.”

The old woman studied him. Long. Hard.

Then she spat on the ground.

”Words are cheap.”

She turned and walked back inside.

Emeric watched her go.

The manor was cold.

The servants—what few there were—had done their best. The floors were swept. The windows were washed. A fire burned in the main hearth. But the furniture was old. The tapestries were faded. The walls were bare.

Isolde wheeled through the entrance hall. Her eyes moved over everything. The cracked tiles. The dusty chandelier. The grand staircase she couldn’t climb.

”It’s... big.”

”It’s ours.”

She looked at him. ”You keep saying that.”

”Because it’s true.”

The household was small.

An old butler named Graves that had a thin build emerged. He had served the previous baron. He had stayed when everyone else left. He didn’t say much. But he knew everything about the manor. Everything they would need.

”Welcome Baron Halden!” They echoed in unison, standing in a straight line on two sides of the bottom floor.

Emeric nodded in response to their greeting, walking in with Isolde being wheeled by Tatia.

He was grateful that she had said yes to his offer of full time employment. She was so good with Isolde that it would be a shame to let her go. She would be her personal caretaker.

He walked down the line and Graves made the introductions.