The Debt Of Fate
Chapter 161: Identity

Chapter 161: Identity

Ernest had left the camp early the next morning after the battle at the city wall. He felt no joy or motivation.

At sixteen, he had followed the soldiers from the royal city to battle at the northern boundary. It was then that he first had the opportunity to show his abilities and skills.

He had taken many risks to get promoted because he had always wanted to earn the admiration of the soldiers.

Ernest sighed. He was very familiar with the layout of Lowe. After riding all morning, he stopped at a house near the entrance of Lowe village.

The young man in the house came out quickly when he heard the sound of the horse.

"My Lord," the young man bowed as he took the reins from him.

"Do you have any news?" Ernest asked.

"No, His Majesty was really poisoned by someone. It is very difficult to investigate. I found out that all those who served the king closely have been questioned, but there is no lead," the young man said, shaking his head.

He understood that his master had only one aim in life: to avenge his family. Now that someone else had gotten to the king before him, he guessed his master was in a bad mood.

"Do you plan to stay?" the young man asked, seeing that Ernest was only frowning.

"Get me the bow. I will go hunting," Ernest said. It’s was already late in the evening and nothing could clear his mind better than a late night hunting. Besides the moon should shine brightly.

Since hearing of the king’s death, he had been filled with anger. Unfortunately, there had been a battle to fight, so he could only suppress his inner rage and focus on fighting.

"Yes," the young man bowed, tied the horse, and came back with a bag containing a bow, arrows, and a few supplies he might need in the forest.

Ernest took the bag and walked toward the forest with a deep frown.

He had worked so hard for ten years, risking his life to get promoted and get closer to the king.

He had lived for one thing ’revenge.’

He wanted to avenge his father.

He had never thought that now, just as he was getting closer to his goal, the king would suddenly die.

He felt like he had no other purpose in life.

Ernest stopped at a clearing and began to vent all his pent-up emotions by punching the trunk of a tree.

Punch after punch sent pain shooting through his heart.

Everyone knew he had resolved to join the royal army at the age of twelve, but no one knew what had truly driven him to make that decision.

He had lived as the illegitimate son of the Duke of Ironhaven for ten years.

The duchess had no sons, so many servants treated him with some respect, speculating that he might one day become the heir.

The duchess was neither warm nor cold toward him.

Finally, when he was ten, he overheard a conversation between the duchess and the Duke.

"Let’s put him under my name. I am already getting old, and having a son might not be possible," the duchess had said.

When she had given birth to her last daughter, it had already been more than ten years.

She had tried everything to get pregnant again but had failed.

She did not want the son of a mistress to become the heir, but her inability to bear another child gave her no choice.

The duchess had thought that as long as she brought the boy under her name and treated him well, it would be fine.

"No," the Duke had refused decisively.

"What do you mean, no? I am already this old without another child. He is also your son. It makes no difference," the duchess’s voice had choked with emotion.

Standing outside the study, the young Ernest frowned.

Of course, he did not like being the illegitimate child.

Not because he coveted the position of heir—but because he hated how other noble sons looked down on him because of his status.

"What? You love her so much that you cannot bear to see her child call another woman mother?" the duchess accused bitterly.

The Duke’s mistress had been very beautiful, and she had died in childbirth.

The duchess had secretly been jealous of her beauty, which made it difficult for her to love the child left behind.

"No, just let it be," the Duke said coldly.

The duchess began crying and accusing the Duke.

The young Ernest thought he should not listen to such things and turned to leave.

Just as he started walking away, he heard the Duke’s defeated voice:

"He is not my son."

Ernest froze.

All these years he had enjoyed a small amount of peace because he believed he was the Duke’s son.

But hearing the Duke say those words made him feel as if his whole world was falling apart.

"What do you mean?" the duchess asked, shocked.

"Could my words have two meanings?" the Duke said sharply.

"I warn you—I am the only living person who knows this. If this secret ever gets out, I will kill you," the Duke threatened. The words had slipped out in a moment of frustration.

Ernest was not sure if the conversation continued after that; he had hurried away.

Since then, he had become much more cautious.

He feared that if his true identity was exposed, his life would become even harder.

After the duchess gave birth to a son later, Ernest’s life in the residence worsened.

Of course, no one bullied him openly, but the hidden slights and secret bullying were harder to endure.

When he had not known the truth, he might have thought to cry to the Duke for help.

But after learning it, he knew he had to endure everything alone.

When he turned twelve, he decided to visit the Duke to find out who his real father was.

His mother had died giving birth to him.

If the Duke was not his father, then who was?

"Your Grace, I feel I am old enough to know who my father is," young Ernest had asked the Duke in his study.

"What nonsense are you saying? Where did you hear such rumors?" the Duke snapped angrily.

He immediately regretted trusting his wife with even part of the truth.

"Your Grace, you said it yourself," Ernest said quietly.

Of course, he was too embarrassed to admit he had been eavesdropping.

The Duke frowned, wondering if he had let something slip while drunk, but thinking carefully, he realized there should have been no such opportunity.

"Tell me, who told you?" the Duke asked after a while.

"Your Grace, I heard you say those words to Her Grace when I was ten," Ernest admitted honestly. Although the duchess had not been very nice to him, he did not want the family to fight because of him.

Hearing this, the Duke sighed heavily.

He had not expected the boy to have kept that memory in his heart for so long.

"Please tell me," young Ernest pleaded.

"I want to know."