The Shield's Repose

Was it yesterday morning? A letter had arrived from Dersian Eshque, the heir to the Eshyk earldom. It was an invitation of sorts—one that was impossible to decline.

Count Eshyk was dead. In other words, Dersian was mourning his father.

Count Eshyk had died of illness. While it might have seemed sudden to others, I had a vague inkling it would happen. In the original novel, Dersian inherited the family title at an early age, and there weren't many events significant enough to force him across the Northern Mountain Range before then.

Of course, not everyone shared my calm. The Eshyk family was counted among the most prestigious in the Empire. Due to its proximity to Edelmarion, the public referred to it as the "Last Shield of the Empire"—a moniker passed down from the days when the Empire's power was still fragile. They even had a history of defending the capital in a desperate, bloody battle.

A distinguished family with a long history and immense influence. Naturally, nobles from the central political scene and all corners of the Empire would be flocking to Eshyk County.

"You seem to know Isha quite well, Rajen."

"I help her with her swordsmanship whenever I have free time."

"Hmm. Maybe I should have learned the sword a bit more. I regret it a little."

"Why would you? If you were good at swordsmanship too, I'd have nothing left to do."

Sirien narrowed her eyes. She looked as if she had a lot to say, but soon ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠let out a soft chuckle and relaxed her expression.

"How does Isha seem to you? Do you think things are going well between her and Dersian?"

"I'm not sure. At the very least, she doesn't seem to dislike him, but I don't know if that will blossom into romantic affection."

"Is she still too overwhelmed to think about love?"

"Probably. Her skills are in a transitional phase right now, so her mind is likely filled with nothing but the sword. Once she reaches a stable plateau, it'll get better. But seeing how she willingly came with us, she must care on some level."

Isha and Dersian were steadily closing the distance between them. To be precise, Dersian was the one making the advances, and Isha wasn't pushing him away. If Sirien was a puppy who was sweet only to me, Isha was more like a cat who was indifferent to everyone. One could even call her cynical for her age. At a glance, she seemed to have little interest in others, living entirely in her own world.

Even so, Dersian's efforts weren't in vain. For Isha, this was a critical period where realizations about swordsmanship were rushing in like a high tide. To willingly accompany us during such an important time must have required a great deal of resolve.

Sirien let out a soft sigh.

"You had a phase like that too, Rajen. You have no idea how upset I was back then."

"Huh? Did I? I don't think I ever had a transitional phase like that."

"Yes, you did. I'd talk to you, but you'd barely listen, your mind clearly elsewhere. And whenever you went missing, you were always at the training grounds. That was the first time I ever found it too cold to bear while waiting for you."

Sirien shot me a stinging look.

"Now that I... think about it, I suppose there might have been a time like that."

"It's not 'I suppose'! Looking back, it makes me so cross. I cried all by myself that day. I thought crying next to you would be a distraction, and I didn't want to show it, so I buried my face in my pillow and sobbed."

"I-I'm sorry. I really didn't know. Truly."

"Of course you didn't. I pretended everything was fine in front of you. Dummy. I think I'm getting angry, so pat my back right now."

I gently patted her back just as she asked. It seemed Sirien had swallowed her sorrow alone in places I hadn't noticed. She was speaking openly about it now, but she had always been one to hide her struggles.

Back at The Cabin, she had mentioned how the texture of the clothes bothered her, yet she had never complained. I recalled her saying she endured it because we were all together, and that playing with us made it bearable.

It didn't take much to lift her spirits. Just patting her back like this and showing her a moment of affection was enough to make her incredibly happy. I really had been too thoughtless.

I pulled Sirien close and kissed her cheek.

"Huh? So suddenly?"

"I just wanted to cheer you up."

"O-Oh... Hehe. Okay. I'll keep doing my best."

Her beaming smile was beautiful. While I was busy cheering her up, we arrived at Eshyk County.

At the castle gates, a guard asked for our purpose. When we showed him the obituary, he guided us down a different path. It was a wide, open road, seemingly cleared in advance. The guards handled everything with seamless efficiency.

It appeared quite a few mourners had arrived before us. Then again, for a family as prestigious as the Eshyk earldom, even the most sluggish nobles would move with haste.

The streets of the county flashed past, and the castle, bearing the dignified marks of time, drew closer. Sirien rested her chin on her hand, gazing out at the streets.

"It's nice. It looks historic, but not run-down. The streets feel very orderly. If Baron Isquente manages his territory well in the future, it might feel something like this."

"The Baron would have loved to hear you say that."

"I'm not saying it to his face. It would be unbearable if he let it go to his head."

Word of our arrival must have reached him, as Dersian was already waiting in front of the castle to greet us. A faint smile touched his lips when he recognized us.

Lords situated close to the capital rarely expanded their forces significantly. They had to ensure the imperial family never perceived them as a threat. Consequently, no one viewed the Count of Eshyk as a "great noble" on the level of the Grand Duke of Ilencia.

Yet, their long history and influence in the capital carried a weight that transcended mere physical power. At the very least, no noble involved in central politics would ever dare look down on the Eshyk family.

Dersian was the heir to this prestigious house. And now, he bowed politely to Sirien.

"Thank you for coming. I have been waiting for you."

"First, I offer my deepest condolences for your loss. I did not expect you to come out and greet us yourself, especially with so many other guests to attend to."

"I felt a sense of guilt. I heard you went through a major ordeal recently, yet I was unable to attend due to my family's circumstances."

I still found his polite demeanor rather awkward. In the original novel, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠there were scenes where he held his head high in defiance, which the readers had cheered as a satisfying moment of triumph. Back then, Dersian had opposed Sirien without caring about the eyes of those around him.

In response, Sirien had pressured the Eshyk family from all angles to make them pay, an event that had piqued the interest of the Golden Duke.

Come to think of it, Dersian was one of the characters in the original novel who had turned hostile toward Sirien the fastest. And it wasn't as if the original female lead had influenced him to do so. Back then, he certainly hadn't thought of Elis as anyone particularly special. What on earth had gone wrong in that timeline?

"You had your duties as the heir. I am not so narrow-minded as to fail to understand such circumstances."

"Hearing you say that puts my mind at ease. I am both grateful and apologetic that you have made this journey. Is Baron Isquente doing well?"

"I heard he needs to recuperate for a few weeks. He asked me to convey his regards to you, in fact."

"Yes, please tell him that I am doing well. I will visit him myself once things here are settled."

"The Baron will be pleased to hear that."

Formal pleasantries were exchanged. Since we were under the watchful eyes of others, the conversation proceeded with strict adherence to etiquette.

Meanwhile, I didn't miss the direction of Dersian's gaze. He first looked at Isha, who was following behind us, and his eyes instantly widened. The sudden brightening of his expression was definitely not my imagination. It seemed Dersian's love was still burning as fiercely as ever.

Of course, setting that aside, a solemn and heavy atmosphere hung over the funeral hall. Nobles clad in black mourning attire turned their attention to us.

It was a familiar gaze—eyes that sought to judge and measure us. It was practically a given that Dersian would inherit the earldom and become the lord. They were undoubtedly curious about who had commanded such a respectful bow from ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the future successor. To them, the name Hibras would still sound like some unfamiliar, foreign religion.

"Then... Ra—cough. And the Guardian of Hibras?"

This time, Dersian's attention turned to me. Though he tried not to show it, there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes. After all, both Sirien and I had our faces covered.

Sirien had concealed her features almost entirely with a face veil and a head veil, while I wore a mask that covered my entire face. It wouldn't have been difficult to identify us given our attire and the emblem of Hibras. Still, he must have wondered why we were hiding our faces now when we had been walking around openly until recently.

Well, it was common enough for a religious saintess to veil her face. But there was no reason for the Guardian to wear a mask. It would be one thing if I had arrived in full armor and a helmet, but this was a funeral hall. It was only natural for Dersian to find it strange.

"I am wearing a mask due to personal circumstances. I hope it is not rude."

"Ah, not at all. I heard you sustained an injury. Please do not worry about keeping it covered; no one will consider it disrespectful."

Dersian lied smoothly. Since I obviously wasn't injured, his words were purely out of consideration for me. Now that Dersian had put it that way, no one else would question it. I bowed my head slightly in gratitude.

"Thank you for your understanding."

"It is nothing. The preparations for the ritual are nearly complete. Please, follow me."