The Knighthood Ceremony
Rumors always have a way of getting twisted.
Like a snowball rolling across a snowfield. The more mouths they pass through, the less they shrink—instead they swell beyond all control. And the Grand Duke's Castle was a little society unto itself, so rumors flew even faster there than anywhere else.
I had just learned that fact the hard way.
On our way to the training grounds for the knighthood ceremony, hand in hand with Ilia as usual, the corridors were thick with the servants' odd stares, their whispers, their laughter and fuss.
The little scenes had been cropping up here and there since lunch yesterday; by this morning they had hit a fever pitch. At first they'd at least tried to hide. Now they were doing it right out in the open along our path.
In a situation like that, of course my ears pricked up. I was genuinely curious what everyone found so entertaining. Everything I overheard, though, was pure nonsense and gossip—that I had Ilia wrapped around my finger, that the two of us were secretly courting, that we'd been engaged since childhood and my becoming her bodyguard knight was nothing but a ruse to fool outsiders. Utterly absurd novels were being drafted in real time.
Well, I understood how rumors ballooned. What better entertainment was there for the servants than romance rumors about their employer?
…But honestly, the sight of Ilia and me walking hand in hand was like pouring oil on a fire. There was nothing I could do about it. Ilia wouldn't let go. Maybe I shouldn't have offered to escort her yesterday. She didn't seem the least bit interested in correcting the rumors, either.
Even when I looked down at her with a troubled expression, she only gave a light shrug of her brows—then leaned her face closer while locking eyes with me, and tossed out jokes like:
"Is there something on my face? Or can you just not take your eyes off me?"
Every time she did, the servants whispered all over again. Seriously. Who was wrapping whom around whose finger? One thing was certain—it wasn't me doing the wrapping. Who was holding the leash here, after all.
And someone was thoroughly enjoying this farce as a spectator.
"My, my. You two are getting along so wonderfully again today, aren't you? Heehee."
None other than the head maid—the very one who'd started the rumors and the editor-in-chief leading the fabrication. Head Maid. Do you have some kind of grudge against me?
"You're laughing right now?"
"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I? Building up the mood before the knighthood ceremony is just perfect, don't you think?"
"Yeah. I think so too. It's been a long time since I've seen the servants this excited."
"Haa."
…Is that so. So I'd sacrificed myself to give them a good laugh. I didn't even know anymore. Whatever. Come what may.
"I hear southern plays are so entertaining, but looking at you two, there's no need to spend money on a theater, is there?"
"Ah, yes. Is that so."
If this situation were a play, the role of the kidnapped princess would have been mine for the taking. The problem was that the one who'd kidnapped the princess was our Prince Ilia, and there was no end in sight to this play.
With such pointless laments, we soon arrived at the training grounds. Arrayed on both sides were the soldiers of the Grand Duke's Castle, with the Grand Duke himself standing at the far end. He looked at us and laughed heartily.
"Haha! It's good to see you two still so close."
At the Grand Duke's booming laughter, the soldiers also looked our way with warm smiles and murmured among themselves. What was with this atmosphere? Wasn't a knighthood ceremony supposed to be conducted in a more solemn setting?
"Let's begin quickly, Father."
"Very well. Ilia Weiss. Step forward."
The Grand Duke called for Ilia and held out a longsword—a white scabbard and black hilt stamped with the wolf crest of the Weiss Grand Ducal house.
The moment it appeared, the air inside the training grounds turned serious in an instant. Only then did Ilia release my hand, which she'd been gripping tightly, approach the Grand Duke, and formally accept the sword.
"Roen Kraus. Kneel."
At those words, one knee bent of its own accord. My knighthood ceremony began that abruptly. The moment I registered that fact, my heart, which had been quiet until then, began to pound fiercely.
Fully fourteen years. I had waited fourteen years for this moment. Today I would finally be recognized as a knight who could stand as one man's equal. So if my heart hadn't raced, everything I'd walked through would have been a lie.
It was a shame I hadn't become the wandering knight I'd wanted, but even so, there were surely things I could do as a bodyguard knight—a way to stay by Ilia's side and prevent the massacre ending.
"Begin."
Shiiing—!
Ilia drew the sword from its scabbard. Watching her feet turn toward me, the silver blade soon rested on my left shoulder.
"I, Ilia Weiss, hereby appoint you as my knight."
In the silence, only Ilia's voice rang out—more resolute and solemn than usual.
"Swear this. That you will become my sword and shield for life, and cut down all that stands in my path."
"I swear."
"Swear this. That in every moment you will be loyal only to me, and that your honor shall be my honor."
"I swear."
"If you truly swear it."
The back of a white hand holding the scabbard was extended before my bowed head.
"Show the proof."
I gently supported that hand and—
Peck.
—kissed the back of her hand. In that instant, a faint tremor in Ilia's fingertips transmitted through my lips. At the same time, the sword was lifted from my shoulder.
"Roen Kraus. From this moment, you are my bodyguard knight. Rise."
"Yes."
I pushed off the floor and stood.
Clack.
The sword returned to its scabbard. Ilia held that sword out to me.
"Henceforth, guard me with this blade."
The faint smile on her face as she said it was beautiful—so much so that the corners of my mouth rose without my noticing.
"I will protect you. Even if it costs this body of mine."
I received the sword reverently with both hands.
"The knighthood ceremony ends here."
The Grand Duke stepped down from the dais and strode over to my side.
"I leave my daughter in your care, Roen."
"Yes, Your Grace. I will stake my life to ensure no harm comes to Lady Ilia."
"Good. If a single tear falls from my daughter's eyes, I won't let it slide!"
"I'll keep that in min… what?"
Hold on a second. Is that something you say to a bodyguard knight, Your Grace? What's with the tears?
Friedrich Weiss, Grand Duke of Nordwacht, had been carefully watching Roen Kraus for a very long time.
The boy was the son of Count Walter, one of the few men in the Empire who could stand shoulder to shoulder with him—and a close friend.
Roen's elder sister Erika had shown distinction as a knight from an early age, so it was only natural to place expectations on Roen as well. That was why, nine years ago, he had had the boy stay at the Grand Duke's Castle for a full month—to test his talent.
But the Grand Duke had had a problem of his own at the time: his daughter, Ilia. She had lost her mother young and closed her heart, yet her talent with the sword was anything but ordinary. He had fretted endlessly that Roen might be cowed by her.
That, however, had been a miscalculation—and a thoroughly pleasant one from the Grand Duke's point of view. Who could have guessed that Roen would open Ilia's heart? And his talent was on a level that could rival hers.
Friedrich had seen through it at a glance. Ilia had fallen hard for Roen. How could he not have noticed? The daughter who remained expressionless even before her own family would have her eyes sparkling the moment she saw Roen's face.
After Roen returned to the count's house, Friedrich spent years wrestling with the question—as the Grand Duke responsible for the Empire's North, and as a father who loved his daughter. That struggle reached its peak when Count Walter sent word that Roen, having graduated at the top of the knight academy, was preparing to leave the North as a wandering knight.
On the grand scale, the right thing would have been to simply let Roen become a wandering knight. The boy had the makings of an imperial knight, not merely a northern one. But if he left like that, how deep would Ilia's grief run? Even after nine years without seeing him, she still longed for him. Would she close her heart again?
Friedrich clutched his head. And the answer to that endless fretting came, astonishingly, from Ilia herself. He would never forget the night she burst into his study and demanded that Roen be brought before her eyes at once. He had refused at first in his confusion, but in the end the doting father sent a letter to Count Walter to grant his daughter's request.
There were two letters in total. One appointed Roen as Ilia's bodyguard knight. The other was a secret pledge to take Roen as the future son-in-law of the Grand Ducal house. Of course, the latter was known only to the Grand Duke and the Count. From Friedrich's perspective, it was something of an abuse of power committed in a fit of temper under his daughter's pressure—all for her happiness.
Not long after, the letter Roen himself brought from Count Walter read as follows.
I will gladly accept that proposal. Whether my son will accept it, however, is another matter. Why don't you try persuading him yourself, Grand Duke.
For a letter from a mere count to a grand duke, the contents were excessively rude. But Friedrich did not care. Walter had always been like that. If anything, he liked the content. All that remained was to persuade Roen, was it not?
The Grand Duke decided to leave the most important persuasion entirely to his daughter. If he tried it himself, it would only feel like coercion. And just now, as the knighthood ceremony unfolded, he was certain his choice had been right. He had seen the smile blooming on his daughter's lips thanks to Roen.
That boy was casually accomplishing what even Friedrich Weiss himself had never been able to do. Watching it, the Grand Duke was already seriously considering what to name his grandchild.