~Chapter 65~
At that moment, the dining hall fell into brief silence before erupting in a thunderous roar.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The knights all stomped their boots against the floor in unison, the sheer force of it reverberating through the entire barracks.
Startled, Riden turned to look at Stanley beside her. He smiled faintly, as if to explain that this was the knights’ traditional show of agreement.
Riden raised a hand to hide the involuntary smile tugging at her lips.
“That was quite the impressive welcome. I’m truly grateful. Shall we sit?”
Though she invited them to, not a single knight moved. They would not sit until their commander did.
“Hmph.”
Ethan drained the last of his beer and rose to his feet. Under the faintly amused gazes of his knights, he reluctantly guided Riden to the seat at his side.
Filling her glass with water himself, he asked curtly,
“What brings you here?”
He’s as terse as ever.
“Sir Squat.”
Riden’s reply was equally brief.
“…”
She quietly gripped the cutlery laid out before her, the awkwardness between them palpable.
Their last conversation had been anything but pleasant. Ethan had insisted, with cold self-assurance, that he could handle anything she needed and had openly declared his affection. Riden, in turn, had snapped back that unless he could prove it—unless she could love him enough to willingly take a poisoned apple—there was no point.
Now the silence hung heavy.
Taking a bite of her stew, Riden turned her attention diagonally across the table, where Stanley sat.
“Sir Squat, the food is delicious.”
Stanley’s lips curved upward in a soft smile.
“I’m glad it suits your taste, my lady. The barracks has its own dedicated chef, and his skills are exceptional—though he is fond of strong spices.”
Riden nodded eagerly.
“Yes. It’s wonderful, but… it is a little salty.”
“I knew it. Shall I bring you more water?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Water was poured and passed across the table right under Ethan’s nose.
Stanley leaned forward to shift various dishes closer for Riden’s convenience.
“And please, there’s no need to be so formal. Just call me Stanley.”
Riden shook her head in protest.
“I’ll do that then. Stanley.”
“Ah… I suppose asking you to drop the honorifics too would be too much, wouldn’t it?”
“I understand the sentiment, but I’m… not quite ready for that.”
“Understood. Your comfort is most important, my lady. Would you care to try this? And perhaps some wine?”
“Wine?”
The table was laden with alcoholic drinks she barely recognized—beer, distilled spirits, and more.
“I think I’ll…”
She gestured toward a safe-looking glass of white wine and met Stanley’s gaze—
Hm?
Ethan, who had been silently eating, suddenly rose and poured the wine into her glass himself. His face was expressionless as he spoke.
“There’s someone sitting right here.”
“…”
“If there’s something you need, I’m capable of answering. Perhaps you might consider asking me first?”
Riden froze, lips parted in surprise, before finally lifting the glass he had filled.
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
“See that you enjoy it.”
Suppressing laughter, muffled snickers erupted from various spots along the long table.
Watching their commander’s romantic woes up close was far too entertaining.
One knight raised a hand.
“My lady, there’s a man here too—may I ask you a question?”
Riden smiled warmly.
“Oh, there’s someone there as well… of course, please go ahead.”
Ethan, scowling, snatched up a piece of bread and hurled it like lightning.
What speed!
The knight dodged the commander’s strike with ease and grinned.
“We heard you were originally going to join the expeditionary training. Now that it’s canceled, will you remain at the ducal mansion until the scheduled date?”
Riden had planned to return to the Count’s estate after the full moon.
Was the scheduled date before the full moon? Or after?
As her expression turned contemplative, the knights, eager to prolong her stay, grew restless.
If she left too soon, their chances of hearing their names mentioned “for good reason” would dwindle.
Besides, seeing the commander’s rare, frustrated expressions was a delight all its own.
This might be our only chance to get him married.
Another knight abruptly raised his hand.
Stanley nodded, granting him permission to speak.
“My lady, we’re planning a festival in place of the training!”
“…Pardon?”
Riden lifted her head, startled, her mind still on the timing of her departure.
“There’s something we’d dearly like to show you, so could you please stay until that day? It’s our heartfelt request! And my name is Sebian, by the wa—urk!”
The knight who introduced himself was promptly tackled by his comrades.
Another knight leapt to his feet, picking up Sebian’s plea.
“We’ll brew honey mead, and even put on a play for the festival. Please, we hope you’ll remain with us!”
After dinner, Riden left the still-boisterous dining hall and returned toward her quarters.
Being surrounded by so many exuberant people was enjoyable, but it also drained her energy.
Ugh, I feel a bit dizzy.
In both her past and present lives, Riden had never been a drinker. Perhaps the wine had been too much; her steps were slightly unsteady as she walked the corridor.
She spun around at the sound of footsteps behind her.
“Your Grace, why are you following me?”
She wasn’t the only one who had drunk at dinner. Ethan had had several glasses himself, and his face was faintly flushed—a rare sight.
Aside from that, however, his usual air of detachment remained intact.
With that sharply handsome face fixed straight ahead, he asked,
“Your room is in the main building, correct?”
“Yes.”
“So is mine.”
“Oh, I see.”
It was warm; the few drinks she’d had had left her cheeks heated.
Riden fanned herself with her hand.
Wait, is he hot too?
On a sudden whim, she turned and gently fanned him as well.
“Better?”
“Not particularly.”
“I see.”
Good, then I only have to fan myself.
“You’re drunk,” he murmured quietly.
Riden’s body tended to be cold, her hands icy. Perhaps her frailty was due to poor circulation.
She pressed her chilled palm against her flushed cheek to cool it down when Ethan’s voice cut through the quiet.
“You spent a long time in your office today. What were you doing?”
Hm? A question like that means…
Riden’s eyes widened as she exclaimed,
“You were watching me!”
“…I could see you. I was at the barracks the entire time.”
“Hmm…”
Her strength seemed to drain at that.
They were conversing, but it didn’t feel smooth. It rarely did with Ethan.
Riden answered with a deflated expression.
“I was reading estate management manuals.”
“You brought those with you?”
“Yes! I thought I’d be going on the expedition, so I packed them. It’s not like I’d have anything else to do but stay by your side during the full moon, so I figured I should use my time productively.”
To Ethan, her words sounded like, I came because I had to, but even if I stayed near you, I wouldn’t have tried to talk much.
He hesitated for a moment, lips pressed together, before handing her a small potted plant he had been carrying.
“My brother asked me to give you this.”
“It’s an olive tree?”
At the mention of Merrick’s name, Riden’s lips curved into a smile.
“But why didn’t he just give it to me himself?”
She muttered to herself as she examined the tiny olive tree.
“It’s a bit damaged… the leaves are wilted.”
“I don’t know why he asked me, but he told me to entrust it to your care.”
Riden carefully inspected the plant.
The olive leaves bore tiny tears.
She didn’t know why Merrick had chosen her, but since he had asked, she wanted to care for it properly and return it to him in good health.
Cradling the pot in her arms, Riden walked through the ducal estate’s night garden.
The cool air soothed her flushed cheeks, and she slowed her steps, savoring the sensation.
Beside her, Ethan matched her pace.
What were we talking about? Ah, the estate management books.
Breaking the silence, Riden said,
“How to Live as a Good Lord in a Single Lifetime, 100 Ways to Surpass Neighboring Territories, Turning Failure into Success: Strategies for Estate Management, Seven Habits of an Unfailing Lord. What do you think? Would you like to read any of them, Your Grace?”
“…”
“Pick the one that interests you most.”
Ethan’s face was the very picture of disinterest.
“They all seem fascinating. I hope you read them thoroughly.”
“Oh, come on. Just pick one, and I’ll read it first and summarize it for you.”
His expression suggested he was dragging the answer out of thin air.
“The first one?”
“How to Live as a Good Lord?”
“The attitude of a lord must come before any techniques. If I could only read one, it would be that one.”
“Oh.”
Riden nodded deeply, impressed.
“That makes perfect sense. I’ve learned something new.”
Ethan stopped in his tracks, as though witnessing a miracle.
“You actually agree with me? Remarkable.”
Riden was equally surprised.
“I agree when something makes sense.”
For a moment, they simply stared at each other with expressions of mutual astonishment.
Then Riden stepped closer to him.
“…What are you doing?”
“Your Grace, just a moment.”
She stepped closer still.
“Why just a moment?”
“Ah, just stay still for a second.”
Riden gazed intently into his dark eyes.
The sacred art of diagnosis: seeing illness through the eyes of the soul!
Surely, she couldn’t really see anything—but there was no harm in trying.
Ethan’s eyes were nothing but deep black.
Black, clear… and beautiful.
She saw no illness, only stars.
His obsidian eyes seemed to hold constellations within.
At the same time, Ethan found himself unexpectedly able to study her face up close.
Riden stared at him suspiciously, lips pursed in discontent.
Her cheeks, faintly flushed from the wine, were heartbreakingly lovely—
Wait.
Flustered, Ethan abruptly turned his head away.
