Facing the Lady
A single white teacup was placed before Rood. A maid in a yellow uniform carefully poured black tea into it. The rich aroma of the tea spread gently through the study, which until then had been filled with the scent of books and paper.
Crunch.
“Mmm~ Isn’t this just too delicious?”
Watching Isabelle beam with happiness right in front of him, Rood let out a quiet sigh. The maid slipped out through the door. The moment Rood thought it was finally time to speak—
“Wait. You must first drink a cup of tea. That is the etiquette of House Voenac.”
Rood reluctantly placed his thumb on the handle and slipped the other three fingers inside to grip it. It was the first time the man who had always thought tea-drinking was nothing but aristocratic pretension had ever tasted tea.
Damn it.
Rood had to fight back the surge of irritation. The flavor and fragrance were far more to his liking than he had expected.
“How is the tea? Does it suit your palate?”
“It’s… fine.”
Rood had always found the mannerisms of nobles ridiculous. That was why he felt ashamed of himself for actually enjoying the tea. He glared at Isabelle and spoke.
“So. Why did you bring me here? And how exactly did you help me from so far away?”
Rood asked the two questions that had been bothering him on the way here. He couldn’t understand why a wealthy southern noble would bother summoning a mere soldier who rolled around on the battlefield. Second, the period between when he had been framed and sentenced to death had been only a week. Even if someone moved as fast as possible, it should have taken at least ten days to reach him. How could she have dispatched a monk to help him?
The tentative conclusion Rood had reached was simple: This southern pig is the one who framed me.
Yet one question still remained unanswered. He could not figure out why she would go so far as to frame him if she needed him.
“First, as for how I helped you—I simply predicted it.”
Predicted?
Rood frowned at the incomprehensible statement.
“There were many reports about Galliot’s usual behavior. He occasionally became an obstacle that disrupted my strategies, so it was necessary information.”
“My… strategies?”
Isabelle gave a small laugh and wiped the cookie crumbs from the corner of her mouth.
“Come to think of it, I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Isabelle Voenac. I am the acting head of the Voenac family and…”
Rood heard the rest of her words and immediately began coughing violently.
“…the Chief Strategist of the Kingdom Alliance.”
Chief Strategist. The greatest mind in the Kingdom Alliance, who conferred with other high officials, devised operations and schemes, and commanded the war effort. Rood could not believe it. If she was only a year older than him, that would mean she had risen to the position of Chief Strategist at the mere age of twenty-two.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Well, I suppose it’s hard to believe, but I have no intention of forcing you to accept it. Mmm~ These cookies pair wonderfully with the tea!”
It was even harder to believe when the woman claiming to be the Chief Strategist was happily munching on cookies.
“More importantly, why did you bring me here?”
“Ugh, wait!”
Isabelle thumped her chest and gulped down her tea.
“Phew, I nearly choked to death.”
She continued.
“Obviously, it’s to employ you. Starting tonight, you are to come to my bedroom every night.”
At the words “come to my bedroom every night,” Rood shot up from his seat.
“I have no interest in that sort of hobby. Especially with someone who looks like a…”
Rood stopped himself from saying “child.”
Isabelle tilted her head, then her face suddenly turned bright red.
“Th-that’s not what I meant! You pervert! You scoundrel! I obviously meant I would hire you as my personal guard knight!”
Rood felt wronged. Her words and actions had sounded nothing like that.
“Even so, I have no desire to serve as your guard knight.”
“Why not? I’ll triple your salary.”
Rood’s goal was to become stronger, not to rot away in the south.
“I said no. There’s no need to hear any more.”
“Regardless, am I not the one who saved your life?!”
Rood froze at Isabelle’s words. If everything she said was true, then she had saved him from certain death. And then the centurion’s words came back to him.
I was already dead there. All I did was leave a corpse in the south.
That meant even if he left this place, he could never return to the battlefield.
“Hey, brat.”
Rood twisted his grip on the sword at his waist.
“You’ve turned me into something worse than a dead man.”
Shing!
Rood’s sword was drawn in an instant, its tip pointed at Isabelle’s throat.
“Tell me. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t cut your throat right here.”
Isabelle’s body trembled like a branch in the winter wind. Yet even as she shook, she stared straight into Rood’s eyes.
“W-what if I said I would teach you how to use aura?”
“More word games.”
“It’s true! House Voenac has no method to handle aura, but you possess one, don’t you?”
Rood’s eyes widened. He had never told anyone that he possessed a secret manual. Not even the comrades who had crossed countless lines of death with him had noticed. The only person he could even suspect was the monk who had gathered his belongings.
“How did you know? Did that bald rat tell you?”
The trembling in Isabelle’s body gradually subsided.
“Hoo… I simply noticed because you held the teacup strangely.”
“The teacup?”
When Isabelle blinked once, Rood felt that her eyes had begun to shine differently. They seemed to contain something brighter and more brilliant than amethyst.
“The swordsmanship of the Kingdom Alliance uses a grip where the thumb wraps around the other fingers. The Empire’s swordsmanship does not.”
Isabelle said.
“They place the thumb upright against the blade and grip the handle with the remaining fingers. Just as you did with the teacup.”
“So what?”
“If you are not an imperial spy, and your swordsmanship resembles the Empire’s rather than the Kingdom Alliance style you would have learned for several years, there is only one answer.”
Isabelle rose from her seat and looked up at Rood. Yet Rood felt an overwhelming presence, as if she were the one looking down at him.
“You obtained a high-grade imperial manual, abandoned your old ingrained habits, and are learning a new sword style. Most likely to handle aura. Am I wrong?”
“Why did you omit the possibility that I’m a spy?”
“Did I not tell you? I am the Chief Strategist of the Kingdom Alliance. Unlike that Galliot fellow, you have produced results beyond my strategies. A spy would not do that.”
Isabelle caught the blade near her throat between her thumb and forefinger and pushed it aside.
“So would you kindly put that away? It’s unpleasant.”
In that moment, Rood realized what the strange light in Isabelle’s eyes resembled. It was like the dawn sky just before sunrise. As if someone had carved out a piece of the universe and embedded it within her gaze.
Rood sheathed his sword and asked one final question.
“Why do you want to hire me as your guard knight?”
He could no longer deny that the childlike girl before him was the Chief Strategist. Her reasoning had been so precise it gave him goosebumps.
“There have been recent assassination threats. Most likely the work of the Empire. They will send even stronger individuals in the future, which is why I recommended you.”
Even stronger individuals.
Rood’s mood improved at those words. To reach a higher realm, it was far better to receive the sword of a skilled opponent than to cut down straw dummies. He had occasionally encountered high-level fighters on the battlefield. But they would be nothing compared to the assassins sent to kill the enemy’s Chief Strategist.
If truly strong enemies are coming, then there’s no reason to refuse.
“Have you changed your mind now?”
“One last thing. How exactly do you plan to teach me aura?”
When Rood asked, Isabelle smiled brightly.
“With my genius, I will explain it in a way even someone like you can understand. Consider it an honor.”
Every time he saw that smug expression, Rood had to resist the urge to give her a good flick on the forehead. He answered.
“No thanks. I will be returning to the battlefield soon.”
“Wh-why? Didn’t I say I would teach you aura? And that strong enemies will appear…”
“Aura is not something that can be learned just because someone teaches you. It must be realized on your own. As a man, I’ll handle that myself.”
Isabelle lowered her head as if disappointed, but she offered no further argument. Because what Rood said was true. While it was possible to teach the principles of handling aura in an easy-to-understand way, the process of learning it was itself a necessary step in manifesting aura.
“Besides, I’m not suited to be a guard knight. Protecting someone while fighting doesn’t match my nature.”
Rood knew his own flaw—drawing his sword without hesitation and acting purely on impulse. Especially when the fight required protecting something behind him, it was even less suited to him.
“Since you call yourself the Chief Strategist, you should be able to send me back to the battlefield. Please give the order so I can return quickly.”
“And if I refuse?”
“The situation from earlier will continue. Until the matter is resolved.”
When Rood finished speaking, Isabelle let out a deep sigh.
“Very well. I cannot simply use you according to my own wishes. Then stay here for a few days as an honored guest. I will send you to the battlefield you desire.”
“Thank you.”
Rood turned his back on Isabelle and left the room.
Should I have asked about the title ‘Fixer’ as well?
After witnessing Isabelle’s reasoning, Rood understood why she had earned such a title, but he was curious about what had caused the rumor to spread in the first place.
The moment he stepped outside, he saw Pete waiting beside him.
“Then I shall guide you to the room where you will be staying, Sir Rood.”
Pete walked down the corridor opposite Isabelle’s study. He opened the door to the left, three steps away from the main staircase.
“This is it. Please rest comfortably until I bring your meal.”
“Wait. Is there a training ground where I can practice swordsmanship?”
Pete smiled and replied.
“I will answer after I bring your meal. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
The door closed, and Rood felt all the strength leave his body.
It’s spacious and comfortable.
A plush-looking bed was placed at the far left of the room. On the side table sat a vase of lavender flowers, and against the right wall stood a wardrobe and a bookshelf. When Rood looked out the window, he could see the entire flower garden that had made his head spin earlier. Only then did he realize it was a portrait of a woman’s face created with flowers.
Quite the romantic, weren’t you?
Rood suddenly lifted his sleeve and sniffed it. The stench of blood and sweat stung his nose.
“Is there a separate place to wash?”
When Rood opened the closed door, there was no one in the corridor.
I should wash quickly before the meal arrives.
Rood stepped into the hallway and began opening doors one by one in search of the bathroom. Most were empty rooms identical to his own, or studies crammed full of books. When he finally reached the corridor leading toward Isabelle’s study, the innermost door caught his eye. While the other doors were a dark walnut color, this one was painted pure white.
When he opened it, a luxurious bathroom with white marble floors appeared. The bathtub was filled to the brim with steaming hot water, as if it had just been drawn.
When Rood removed his clothes, the countless scars covering his body were revealed. Cuts, burns, blunt trauma—each wound was proof that he had never spared himself in battle.
Rood opened the laundry basket, tossed his clothes inside, and lowered himself into the tub.
“Hah, it’s been a while since I’ve bathed in hot water.”
It was then.
Click!
The bathroom door opened quickly.