The One Who Only Does Good for Me #2
The sun had not yet fully risen, and the pale mist of dawn drifted silently across the fields.
The tall gates of Iredain opened with a long, groaning creak.
The white flag hung limp in the windless air, yet its meaning could not have been clearer.
Alena watched from atop her horse.
“It ends so emptily,” Roen murmured.
“No,” Alena answered quietly. “This is not the end. It is the bill come due—a signal that they will pay the price of rebellion.”
Beyond the gates, a woman on horseback appeared.
Wrapped in a black cloak, she looked weary and pale, yet she had not lost her elegance. It was Cately Ricgard.
Cately dismounted and knelt.
“I greet Your Majesty Alena Esterien, the one true and legitimate monarch of Rosdea.”
Her voice was parched.
“From this moment forward, Iredain kneels before Your Majesty. To Her Majesty Alena Esterien, rightful Queen of Rosdea… I offer apology for all of Iredain’s sins… and pledge eternal loyalty.”
Her forehead touched the earth.
A breeze stirred. The world around them fell into a silence so complete it seemed no one dared breathe.
“Raise your head, Cately Ricgard.”
Cately hesitated.
Then, carefully, she lifted her gaze.
Alena looked down at her. After a brief pause she spoke, her tone level.
“Your house was once Romandon, was it not? The Romandons have always been faithful to the royal family—just like Sir Aiden who stands at my side.”
The queen indicated Aiden Romandon with a slight tilt of her eyes. He stood beside her, sword in hand.
When her brother’s gaze met hers, Cately lowered her eyes.
“…Yes, just as Your Majesty says.”
“Then I will forgive you. Your husband’s sins are not yours to bear.”
Cately swallowed hard. Her eyes trembled.
“…If that is Your Majesty’s word, then I can only offer my deepest gratitude for such mercy. And I shall await your fair judgment.”
“I did not come to deliver judgment. I came to end this war.”
Alena’s voice was firm.
“If I can claim Iredain without spilling blood, I will gladly choose that path.”
Cately bowed her head once more. Yet emotions too heavy for words lingered in the air.
The knowledge that the queen had forgiven her brought a measure of relief, but—
Her gaze drifted slowly to the side.
There stood Emil, quietly at the queen’s side.
Not as her lover, but as the queen’s man.
Cately’s eyes quivered. She tried not to look at him, yet her gaze sought him out as if by instinct.
You… belong to that woman now.
Emil did not look away. Instead he met her eyes directly.
The moment their gazes locked, Cately bowed her head again. A storm churned inside her chest.
She knew he had not abandoned her. He had not turned from her.
Even so, he stood at the queen’s side.
The certainty that his hands would never again wrap around her, that his lips would never again speak her name, felt more cruel than any punishment.
“Then… what becomes of me and my daughter Daisy?” Cately asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.
“You will live. The Ricgard family, its lands, and your daughter Daisy will live as well. That is the most valuable reward one can hope to gain from war.”
Alena studied her for a moment.
“But remember—forgiveness is never without cost. Iredain will be folded back into my kingdom. You will serve faithfully as my proxy here, and your daughter Daisy Ricgard will remain under my protection. I will hold her as hostage of Iredain, yet I swear she will suffer no humiliation or abuse. I will take personal responsibility for her.”
Cately nodded without a word.
Only then did Alena step back. Roen and the soldiers moved past her toward the gates.
“Priest.”
Alena spoke without turning her head.
“We ride.”
Emil bowed slightly. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
Cately looked up at him one last time.
He still did not avert his eyes. There was no pity in them, no compassion—only a quiet, detached gaze, as though he were simply watching someone make a choice.
To her, that was the deepest cut of all.
And so the rebellion of Iredain ended.
The sun had fully risen.
The silence that followed the end of war only kept the soldiers from relaxing. Cavalry tethered their horses in the stables while infantry hurried to pitch tents and prepare meals. Amid the ceaseless motion of men shedding armor and boots, a single quiet conversation began to spread through the camp.
“I never imagined Iredain would kneel so easily. Truly.”
One knight removed his helm. Dried sweat clung to his brow, and mockery glinted in his eyes.
“Well, that’s how it usually goes with women in charge. Looks impressive enough from a distance, but the moment steel touches their throats they raise the white flag without a fight.”
Another knight gave a bitter smile. “You’re right. In the end, women are all the same before a blade. They cry, they beg, they cling to a man’s coattails. That’s all they’ve got.”
“Begging for their lives in terror is practically an art form. They must have buried their pride somewhere beneath their skirts.”
They laughed openly, faces shameless. One of the helmetless men cleared his throat.
“And it’s not just Cately Ricgard. That daughter of hers—Daisy Ricgard—is the same. I heard she ran off with the priest in the dead of night. Nimble little thing for a precious young lady.”
“Speaking of the priest—Emil. Isn’t he suspicious? Supposedly he was Iredain’s personal priest, yet now he stands at the queen’s side and brings that girl with him. Calls her a hostage. What a righteous priest indeed.”
Several knights chuckled. No one moved to silence them.
That was when the voice cut through.
“Shut your mouths. Now.”
It was clear and resolute. When they turned, they saw a young girl with soft golden curls and a light coat standing before them.
Daisy Ricgard.
She strode forward without hesitation, her bright face flushed crimson with anger.
“You speak of honor? How righteous and honorable are any of you? Is trampling women with blades and words the honor of knights?”
Her eyes did not waver.
One knight gave a derisive laugh. “Honor? I never thought I’d hear the word from the daughter of a traitor.”
Another joined in. “You should have stayed quiet, little lady. Quite bold for a hostage.”
Daisy’s eyes widened. “Say that again.”
“The word hostage? Or daughter of a traitor?”
The laughter swelled. The mockery grew blatant. Someone moved to circle her.
“That’s enough.”
The words were quiet, yet sharp enough to freeze the air.
Everyone turned.
Emil stood there.
He had not raised his voice, yet his mere presence transformed the atmosphere.
“Lady Daisy is under the queen’s direct protection. To insult her is to defy Her Majesty’s will. If any of you have objections to me, speak them directly instead of surrounding and threatening a lady.”
The knights froze.
Then one sneered. “Since when did you become the queen’s mouthpiece, Priest? And weren’t you rather close to the rebels yourself?”
“Exactly. The queen may stay silent, but those of us who bled in Iredain… how are we supposed to accept this?”
Another stepped forward. “You’re not protecting the girl because of personal feelings, are you?”
Tension crackled.
The knights rose one by one, hands drifting toward their weapons. Daisy took a step back. Emil did not retreat an inch.
He pointed a finger at the foremost knight in warning. “You may flap your tongue freely, Sir Landon. But in front of me, I suggest you guard it.”
“Oh? And what if I don’t, Priest? Will you duel me to defend the young lady’s honor?”
Cruel laughter erupted. The knights smirked and postured.
Emil answered with a gentle smile. “Surely not. I am only a priest.”
“Ha! Of course you are.”
“The reason I told you to guard your tongue has nothing to do with that, Sir Landon. It may be because I am friends with your father.”
The knight frowned. “What nonsense is this? How would you know my father?”
“I do. I have a friend who frequents the brothels. He has a particular taste for fat, ugly whores. So the chances that he is your father are rather high, wouldn’t you say?”
The air turned to ice before the words had even finished.
The laughter died. Sir Landon’s face burned scarlet.
“…What did you just say to me, Priest?”
“You heard me.”
Emil’s voice remained soft, without the slightest trace of anger, like a man calmly reading from an ancient book.
“It means you have no right to run your mouth. If you wanted to mock someone, you should at least have been prepared to endure mockery yourself.”
“You dare—!”
Sir Landon lunged forward, hand closing around his sword hilt.
The other knights watched, waiting—
“Enough.”
A low, solid voice.
A cloaked man approached through the soldiers. Black-gloved fingers rested heavily on a sword pommel, and the rising morning sun stretched his shadow long behind him.
It was Sir Aiden.
Someone swallowed audibly at his approach.
“Sir Aiden…”
“Her Majesty is preparing a council inside the castle.” His tone was even, yet absolute. “And while she does, Rosdea’s knights mock a hostage and reach for their blades against a priest? That is unacceptable.”
“We weren’t—” Sir Landon began awkwardly.
Aiden did not even glance at him. He simply stopped and continued.
“I understand the urge to laugh at those who have knelt and to call the unarmed cowards. But that sword lies beneath the queen’s banner. Her Majesty took this castle without shedding blood, and we must accept that outcome.”
He turned and offered Daisy a short, respectful bow. She stared at him in confusion before quickly looking away.
Aiden’s gaze returned to the knights.
“If you wish to fight, choose the training ground and face me. Otherwise, close your mouths and remove your hands from your weapons. Is that clear?”
Aiden was a knight of the great Romandon house and the queen’s most trusted blade. No one dared challenge him.
After a moment the knights began to retreat, clearing their throats and sheathing their swords as they slunk away.
Aiden watched their backs until they disappeared.
Emil stepped forward. “Thank you, Sir Aiden.”
“No need for thanks, Priest Emil. I only stepped in because I feared you might slaughter them all.”
Emil gave a wry smile.
Of course. Sir Aiden had witnessed him single-handedly carving through Iredain’s guards to rescue Leni. In truth it had been Pidea’s power, but the concern was understandable.
“Thank you as well, Uncle,” Daisy added.
Aiden was, after all, Cately’s brother and therefore Daisy’s uncle. Yet he accepted the gratitude with nothing more than a simple nod, drawing a clear line as a knight, and withdrew.
Even after he left, Daisy remained where she stood. Outwardly calm, yet her tightly pressed lips trembled.
Emil approached her quietly.
“Are you all right, my lady?”
She did not answer at first, only gave a very slow nod.
“If what just happened lingers with you, there is no need to feel ashamed. Courage is not only found in fighting.”
At those words Daisy lifted her head slightly. Her eyes were still wet, but now they trembled with something deeper than anger.
“You’re always like this, Priest.”
Emil raised a light brow. “Like what?”
She chose her words carefully, then murmured, “You only ever say the perfect thing… yet it always sounds as if you don’t truly understand the human heart.”
Emil did not laugh. He simply looked at her in silence, then nodded.
“That may be true. I am still lacking.”
His sincere admission made her eyes tremble even more. She opened her mouth, closed it, tried again, then stopped once more.
“But I followed you because I like that about you, Priest.”
Then she stepped forward.
Carefully, yet deliberately, she rose onto her toes and pressed her lips to his cheek.
It was a very light, very brief kiss, yet every emotion she possessed was poured into that single instant.
Emil blinked in surprise.
But Daisy gave him no time to react. As though she needed to justify what she had done, she immediately stepped back.
“…Since you put me in this situation, Priest, you have to take responsibility. Don’t you?”
With that she fled, vanishing among the tents.
“…Well.”
Left alone, Emil stood speechless for a long moment.
The wind brushed through his snow-white hair. In the distance came the sound of soldiers whistling as they tended to their arrows.
He pressed a hand to his forehead, let out a slow sigh, and then smiled faintly.
“Lately I seem to be receiving a lot of kisses on the cheek.”