Chapter 49
Chapter 49
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 49
Chapter Title: Garden
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“Lady. It’s time to withdraw the army. The casualties are mounting.”
“I wonder if we were too hasty. Of course, Sir Lucas’s vengeance is important, but the soldiers’ morale is plummeting.”
This was already the fourth assault. Attempting four attacks over two days of siege warfare meant they’d been pouring on the pressure without respite. And with all of them failing, it was no wonder the troops’ spirits were sinking.
Those who had enlisted for the sake of honorable revenge had fallen first, while the soldiers expecting an overwhelming victory cowered at the sight of their comrades dropping dead. Lenia knew this all too well. Checking on the troops was a commander’s duty, after all.
“......”
She bit her lip hard. If things continued like this, revenge might slip through their fingers entirely.
“So you’re saying we should pull back the army and head home now?”
“No, that’s not it. Let’s just turn it into a siege. Judging by their marching speed, they surely haven’t stockpiled enough food.”
Even Sir Karon, infamous for his hot temper, voiced doubts about the assaults, and the other knights nodded in agreement.
“He’s right. A siege alone will starve the count to the brink of death. We can just surround them and wait for the gates to open—that should force a surrender easily enough, no?”
The consensus was shifting toward a siege when a soldier burst into the tent, his face frantic.
“Commander! The gates... the gates of Sarisa Castle have opened!”
The gates had opened? Lenia and the knights rushed out of the tent. There, they saw the once-sealed gates of Sarisa Castle flung wide. Standing before them was a familiar face.
“I’ve captured the count! Cease the attack!”
His bellow carried across the battlefield, booming enough to reach the enemy lines despite being just a shout. His massive frame was unmistakable. It was Kyle, blade pressed to the count’s throat—they’d thought him dead.
“Kyle...?”
“Sir Lucas?”
The fierce siege ground to a halt in an instant. In the eerily silent battlefield, as if time itself had frozen, a few soldiers who recognized him erupted in cheers.
“It’s Sir Lucas!”
“He’s alive!”
Like a contagion, the troops lowered their weapons. Morale, which had been crumbling, soared sky-high once more. The war was over. Meanwhile, atop the walls, Sarisa’s soldiers confirmed the man in Kyle’s grip was indeed their count and tossed down their arms.
They had no will to fight any longer. It had never been a war they wanted.
“Sir Lucas!”
Lenia and the knights galloped over on horseback. The count thrashed and screamed at the sight of her, but it only made him look more pathetic.
“Sir! You’re alive!”
“Bind the count!”
The soldiers dragged away the raging count, and the knights grinned broadly, embracing Kyle. In their hearts, he was already their lifesaver—a noble more honorable than any other.
At this point, they’d probably shrug even if he beat some random passerby to death, thinking, Well, that guy must’ve been a filthy murderer.
“Haha! I figured a knight as honorable as you wouldn’t die there.”
“What’re you saying? Didn’t you charge back to the territory raging about avenging Sir Kyle?”
The grueling war had ended in a flash, and with their rescuing hero returned, smiles bloomed on every face. Spotting Lenia among them, Kyle hurriedly bowed his head.
“Lady.”
She looked up at him silently. The memory resurfaced of him guarding the rear, insisting she escape and survive at any cost.
“Sir...”
“Yes, Lady.”
“......I’m glad you’re safe. Truly... so glad...”
Lenia embraced him quietly. Holding back tears was her limit.
That evening, a feast erupted in the fallen Sarisa Castle. The count was locked in the dungeon, and the soldiers reveled with wine and food provided by the locals. In exchange for the provisions, plundering was forbidden, so there were few complaints from the Sarisa side.
A castle that had lost two wars without being sacked? This one might be the only one.
“Sir, you’ve been through hell.”
“Haha, thank you.”
“If you’re up for it, come join us and share some tales of valor.”
The knights, already cozy with Sarisa’s young ladies, guffawed as they downed their drinks. They laughed, raged, and grew somber with every story of my ordeals there.
“Such loyal soldiers! As expected of Sir Lucas’s men—there’s something different about them!”
They were moved by tales of my subordinates who’d bought us time to escape and fallen in battle.
“It’s shameful to share nobility with the likes of him. How did a man like that even become a count...?”
When I recounted the whipping, they burned with fury and shame. Sarisa’s ladies gasped and covered their eyes at the scars still marking my body.
As the mood ripened, I rose from my seat. I’d spotted a familiar face amid the party.
“Sir Lucas!”
“Sir Willum. What brings you here?”
It was Willum. I hadn’t seen him on the battlefield. He chuckled sheepishly at my question.
“I was on supply duty. By the time I arrived, the war was over. Haha! So I just distributed all the supplies to the troops.”
Willum shared stories from the city. Nobles and commoners alike had raged at my sacrifice, demanding vengeance.
“But... have you heard that story?”
Mid-conversation, he narrowed his eyes and leaned in close.
“What story might that be...?”
“Lady reported the Sarisa count’s vile deeds to His Imperial Majesty. Once the investigators confirm it, he’ll lose any claim to his lands. Then...”
“Then?”
Willum sighed in exasperation.
“Why play dumb? Naturally, the rights to Sarisa territory will fall to us. Lady will grant it to someone... and I’d wager you’re the top candidate.”
Ah, so that’s it. Strip the count of his claim, and he can’t hold Sarisa anymore. Sure, claim alone isn’t everything, but we’ve occupied it now.
Nobles rarely hold two territories. They delegate to trusted vassals to expand their influence.
Managing one is tough enough; two could lead to overwork and death. Lady wouldn’t half-ass it, either.
“But why me? Norton Viscount’s house—Sir Edward’s family—seems more likely.”
“Nah. They’ve served long and are strong contenders, but land grants aren’t decided by vassal votes alone. Right now, your popularity in Cligrove is through the roof.”
“Hmm...”
“Thanks to those knights you saved spreading your heroic sacrifice tale, nobles and commoners alike would pick you as the most popular man hands down.”
Willum laughed, saying even just the knights’ votes would seal the territory to me.
“I’ve never seen anyone as remarkable as you, Sir. Achieving all this in under two months.”
“Haha, just lucky. If you asked me to do it again, I couldn’t.”
“Haha! Who’d ask you to? Any normal person would’ve died a dozen times over.”
We clinked wine glasses, laughing. Then a familiar voice cut in.
“Got a moment?”
“Ah... Sir Edward.”
That annoying face. Edward. But unlike usual, he wasn’t wearing his trademark scowl.
“Ahem! Well, I’ll be off then. Something came up...”
Willum cleared his throat and left at Edward’s arrival. The crowd had been chatting among themselves, so now it was just Edward and me in the corner.
“.......”
“.......”
What? Why ask if I had time? Another quarrel brewing? My mind raced amid the heavy silence. Edward spoke first, saying something I never expected.
“For that day... thank you, Sir Lucas. I’ll repay this debt someday.”
That was it. I was too stunned to reply. Without waiting, Edward turned on his heel and stormed out. Who’d have thought I’d hear that from him?
“Sir Lucas!”
“Haha! Our hero!”
A bit drained from Edward’s curveball, I headed for the exit. Nobles cheered my name, raising glasses. Smiling, I shook hands and hugged them one by one.
Normally I’d breeze past with a grin, but knowing each held a precious vote for the territory grant made me extra cordial.
“Whew...”
The garden outside glowed softly under moonlight, starlight, and spills from the party. The purple tulips filling it looked stunning even to my long-jaded eyes.
Lady likes these purple tulips, huh. An odd connection. Among the girls I knew, one had loved them too.
“Ren.”
She’d adored purple tulips. The noble garden where I’d worked was impeccably tended because of it. When I asked why, she’d said their meaning was beautiful.
I stood gazing at the tulips. Where was she now?
“Ahem... Sir Lucas?”
Lost in the flowers, I heard Lady’s voice from behind. Turning, I saw her in a dress, cheeks faintly flushed, watching me.
Under the moonlight, she shone with ethereal beauty, like a lunar goddess incarnate. Her eyes widened upon seeing me.
“Why are you out here alone?”
“People kept coming up to chat in the party hall, so I escaped. You, Lady?”
I knew the answer already. Same reason as me. Her face had soured from noble sons’ endless dance invitations.
“Same here. How can people be so bothersome...?”
Grumbling, she glanced at the tulips I’d been eyeing.
“Seems like just the other day you were admiring tulips like this.”
“Haha. Didn’t I pick one for you in that garden back then?”
Might as well pluck one now. As I dipped my head, a pale, delicate hand extended before me. Startled, I looked up to see Lady’s face flushed, clearing her throat.
“Ahem... I... I’d like to ask for the honor of a dance with you. What say you?”
Regrettably, I didn’t know how to dance. I’d learned briefly once, but it was too short to stick.
“I don’t know how to dance, so perhaps with some other noble son...”
As I refused, her soft hand seized mine. Feeling the tender touch at my fingertips, she shot me a displeased look.
“Then learn. Follow my lead. You can manage that much, right?”
How do you refuse a superior like that? Despite knowing zilch about dancing, I let her pull me along.
One step, two. Contrary to my fears, it was repetitive and rhythmic. She’d chosen an easy dance to accommodate my inexperience. As I kept pace, she smiled.
“How is it? Manageable?”
“Not difficult.”
Then the tempo quickened. From slow to brisk, then faster. Matching her deftly, I heard her voice.
“Thank you. I’ve owed you a great debt these past days.”
“Just doing my duty.”
“No need for humility. You’re a noble. It’s a virtue, but excess humility diminishes yourself.”
Her steps halted mid-rebuke. We stood at the garden’s center. Whether intentional or not, it was empty save for purple tulips, lit only by party lights and moonlight. We gazed at each other.
“.....”
“.....”
Her face seemed closer than ever. Golden hair like flowing silk thread, blue eyes like carved finest turquoise, skin like flawless marble.
The brief silence stretched like eons. Slowly, her long lashes veiled those blue eyes.