Red Riding Hood - Chapter 15
II. Big Bad Wolf
His name was Ylfus Gracian, the heir to the grand domain of Kalasca and the eldest son of the Gracian family. He turned thirty-two years old this year.
Of course, when he introduced himself like that, half the people would leap in shock, typically responding with something along the lines of, “Thirty-two?”
The other half didn’t react simply because they held lower ranks. Those individuals would always add later, “Sir Gracian, to be honest, I was surprised when I first heard your age. I didn’t realize you were so young.”
It couldn’t be helped. Ylfus was built differently from others by nature.
By the time he was twelve or thirteen, he was already tall enough to meet the eyes of grown men, and his body grew just as massively in width.
At eighteen, his physique was that of a fully trained knight.
The situation with his face wasn’t much different. His facial features became pronounced as soon as the baby fat melted away, and before the innocent pink of his cheeks could fade, they were covered with a dark beard.
His mother, finding it unsettling, refused his affectionate kisses before he even came of age. Of course, Ylfus didn’t give up and repaid her with firm hugs and twice as many kisses.
With such an appearance, what must his youth have been like?
His parents, completely unaware of how delicate a boy he truly was, looked only at his grown-up appearance and incessantly thrust marriage prospects upon him.
Ylfus was horrified.
“Please stop bringing me potential brides! I’m only eighteen!”
His mother replied coldly,
“Ylfus, let me be honest. You don’t look like a newlywed even now. What do you think you’ll look like when you reach the proper marriageable age?”
The boy, who carried a pure and tender love deep in his heart, was deeply hurt by his mother’s words.
“My goodness, how could you say such a thing? But it doesn’t matter. I’m going to marry for love!”
His father, narrowing his eyes, spoke in a stern voice,
“Son, then you must fall in love first! How will you ever do that when you avoid social events because they’re ‘too bothersome’?”
Grasping his father’s shoulder with sincerity, he said,
“Father, I would rather surrender to serendipity!”
For some reason, his earnest confession made his father erupt in anger. His father retrieved his spear for the first time in twenty years and, after brandishing it wildly, chased him out of the house.
But Ylfus didn’t mind. He joined the Holy Order of paladins, a place where his parents couldn’t push any more marriage prospects on him.
Though he joined impulsively, life in the Order suited him well. Having always enjoyed rigorous training, he welcomed the strict discipline of the paladins.
Above all, he was captivated by the teachings of his god.
The teachings declared,
Love. All life is a child of God, so love all life.
His apprenticeship was brief, thanks to his innate strength and natural talent as a knight inherited from his father. He soon became the squire of the great paladin, Sir Philip.
Even his time as a squire wasn’t long. The jovial Sir Philip said, “I commend your remarkable swordsmanship and even more remarkable ability to look aged,” implying that Ylfus’ mature appearance didn’t suit the role of a squire. Thus, Sir Philip quickly knighted him.
That’s how Ylfus officially became a paladin.
A few years later, war broke out.
It wasn’t a holy war, but a battlefield for paladins—a conflict between two royal brothers over succession following the death of their aging sovereign.
All it took to split the seemingly unshakable bond of brotherly love was a single wedge called ‘succession’. Opportunistic schemers, eager to line their pockets, swung their hammers at that wedge.
Thus, the continent’s power structure split into two factions. The elder brother, Brian, claimed legitimacy, while the younger brother, Sidney, won over lords with his innate leadership and charm.
And then, there was his family, the Gracian family.
The Gracians were a branch family of the royal household.
Yet, despite being of royal blood, their domain, Kalasca, was a remote rural estate far from the capital. Its lords, lacking any ambition for power, had been disconnected from the central noble society for generations.
In other words, they could easily feign ignorance if they chose to.
The problem was that Ylfus’s father, Sir Lantimos Gracian, was not as gruff as his bear-like appearance suggested—instead, he was soft-hearted, like ripened fruit.
Even after ten years without a single word from his ungrateful son who had run away, his father still regarded Ylfus as his heir.
