The Archduke’s Hidden Bloodline

The carriage rolled along the paved roads of the ducal capital, its wheels humming a disciplined rhythm against the stone.

Thyrinne leaned her head against the window.

The city stretched endlessly beyond the glass.

Orderly streets.

Organized traffic.

Guards standing at regular intervals.

Even the merchants seemed to shout with purpose.

Everything felt controlled.

Watched.

New city.

New job.

New opportunities.

Her expression brightened slightly.

“...opportunities to try different food.”

Across from her, the attendant let out a long sigh.

“Lady Thyrinne.”

“Mhm?”

“When we arrive, report directly to the laboratory district. Lord Theran is expecting you.”

“Mhm.”

“And do not wander off.”

“I won’t.”

The attendant narrowed his eyes.

“Really?”

“After I eat.”

His shoulders slumped.

Arguing with her had never produced results.

Only headaches.

Thyrinne returned her attention to the passing scenery.

The capital was impressive.

But it wasn’t home.

Home was far behind her.

A small village hidden within the territory of Baron Cassiel.

A village that looked perfectly ordinary.

And wasn’t.

The morning before her departure had started as most mornings did.

With food.

The dumpling fell out of Thyrinne’s hand.

Not because she dropped it.

But because the air shifted.

“...This tastes weird today.”

No one answered.

The kitchen had become strangely quiet.

The servants weren’t moving.

Outside the window, the birds had vanished.

Not flying.

Not singing.

Simply absent.

Her father sat across from her.

Baron Cassiel.

Still smiling.

“Ah,” he said casually. “That’s not normal.”

Thyrinne blinked.

“What isn’t?”

A wooden cup on the table cracked.

No one touched it.

No one moved.

The wood simply gave in.

“...Is the food cursed?”

Cassiel sighed.

“No.”

A pause.

“That would be easier.”

Something far away stirred.

A record was created.

No name.

No explanation.

Only a single word.

ANOMALY.

Then the pressure vanished.

The birds returned.

The servants moved.

The world resumed.

Thyrinne picked up another dumpling.

“If it’s not cursed, then the kitchen is having a bad day.”

The world did not respond.

But it was no longer silent.

After breakfast, she wandered through the village one final time.

The village sat at the center of the baron’s territory.

Not large.

Not wealthy.

But alive.

Children raced through dirt paths.

Women exchanged gossip beside the well.

Farmers worked the fields.

Everything appeared normal.

At first glance.

“Lady Thyrinne!”

An old farmer waved from beside a fence.

She waved back.

“Mhm.”

“Heading to the capital today?”

“Unfortunately.”

The old man laughed.

“Most people would be excited.”

“Most people haven’t eaten village cooking.”

“Fair point.”

He returned to hammering nails into a fence.

The same fence he had been repairing for nearly a week.

Thyrinne stopped.

“You’ve fixed that fence six times.”

The farmer paused.

“...A good fence takes dedication.”

“You replaced the same board yesterday.”

“A very good fence takes more dedication.”

Thyrinne accepted this explanation immediately.

“Reasonable.”

The farmer looked relieved.

Further ahead, she spotted Mara carrying two large baskets.

The woman moved with perfect balance despite the uneven road.

Almost unnaturally perfect.

“Morning.”

“Morning, Lady Thyrinne.”

“What are you carrying?”

“Vegetables.”

Thyrinne peered into the baskets.

Vegetables.

Nothing suspicious.

“Good.”

Mara blinked.

“Were you expecting something else?”

“No.”

A pause.

“Maybe pastries.”

Near the training grounds, several village youths were practicing wooden sword drills.

The moment they noticed her, they straightened.

Too quickly.

Too uniformly.

Thyrinne stared.

They stared back.

A long silence followed.

One boy coughed awkwardly.

“We’re training.”

“I can see that.”

More silence.

Then Thyrinne pointed.

“Your stance is weird.”

The boy immediately corrected it.

The others did the same.

She nodded.

“Less weird now.”

The entire group visibly relaxed.

The village was full of moments like that.

Tiny inconsistencies hidden inside ordinary life.

A farmer whose hands looked more suited for a sword than a plow.

A baker who never missed anything happening within three streets.

A shepherd whose posture resembled a veteran knight.

And somehow everyone treated this as completely normal.

Including Thyrinne.

Especially Thyrinne.

When she returned to the manor, Cassiel was waiting outside.

Stretching.

Again.

“You finished your goodbye tour?”

“I wasn’t saying goodbye.”

“No?”

“I was checking food quality.”

“Important work.”

“Very.”

Cassiel nodded solemnly.

“Your dedication inspires me.”

The carriage arrived shortly afterward.

Astrina appeared beside the front steps.

“You have everything?”

“Yes.”

“You remembered your documents?”

“Yes.”

“You remembered your notes?”

“Yes.”

“You remembered—”

“Food?”

Astrina sighed.

“Of course that’s what you remembered.”

“It was a priority.”

A few minutes later, the carriage departed.

The village slowly disappeared behind them.

Fields gave way to roads.

Roads gave way to walls.

Walls gave way to the capital.

Then the smell hit her.

Grilled meat.

Fresh bread.

Spices.

Fried dough.

Thyrinne sat upright immediately.

The attendant noticed.

“...No.”

“What?”

“I know that look.”

“You cannot prove that.”

“I absolutely can.”

The moment the carriage stopped near the Night Market District, she vanished.

The attendant closed his eyes.

He had expected this.

The market exploded with life.

Lanterns glowed overhead.

Smoke drifted between stalls.

Vendors shouted over one another.

The air itself smelled edible.

Thyrinne stopped at the first skewer stand she saw.

“Five copper.”

“I’ll take ten.”

The vendor smiled.

“Good choice.”

“Discount?”

The smile disappeared.

High above the city, hidden among the rooftops, a young man surveyed the district.

Quirion Ryse Valric.

“Cult activity?”

“No confirmed traces, Your Highness.”

A pause.

“Although...”

Quirion glanced toward his subordinate.

“Speak.”

The operative pointed downward.

“There is a girl aggressively negotiating food prices.”

Silence.

“...What?”

“She appears highly committed.”

Quirion looked down.

A minor noble.

Ordinary appearance.

Nothing remarkable.

And yet—

For reasons he couldn’t explain—

his attention lingered.

Below, Thyrinne happily collected her food.

“This city has potential.”

Then she smiled.

“I should definitely come back tomorrow.”

Quirion narrowed his eyes.

Interesting.

Very interesting.