Alcohol, Knights, and Memories (2)
“Deputy Commandeeer…”
Even in her sleep, Christine kept searching for Maxim. The man in question sat across from her, quietly sipping his ale. He glared at his so-called comrades who had abandoned him the moment he needed them. They weren’t jeering. They weren’t pretending not to see. Instead, Paola and Roberto offered him sly grins and enthusiastic thumbs-ups. That was what truly grated on him.
“Don’t pinch me…”
What kind of dream was she having? Maxim watched, jaw tight, as Christine flailed her left arm. He couldn’t simply leave her like this until the drinking party ended. Frustration burned in his chest; he kept raising his cup and draining it. The intoxication he had tried to ignore slowly began to seep into his body.
“Paola, sir.”
Maxim called out, putting real desperation into his voice. Paola ignored him completely.
“Roberto.”
The bastard had plugged his ears. If Christine latched onto him any harder, things would get messy. She was staring at Maxim with half-lidded eyes, her head now held strangely upright.
“You awake?”
Christine’s cheeks were flushed crimson. The whirlpool swirling in her emerald eyes made it clear she was nowhere near sober. Maxim gave her shoulder a light pat.
“Christine.”
“Wha’sit, Deputy Commander?”
Her tongue was completely tangled. Messy hair, glassy eyes, that foolish grin. Maxim flagged down a braided-haired server and asked for cold water. The server took one look at the swaying Christine, offered a stiff smile, and hurried to the kitchen for a pitcher.
“You’re causing trouble, Christine.”
“Am nooot.”
She had woken up, but Maxim wondered if it might have been better to let her sleep. Christine hugged the ale mug tightly to her chest and giggled senselessly.
“Don’t drink that.”
Maxim forcibly pried the mug from her arms. The moment it vanished from her grasp, Christine blinked rapidly, pawed across the table, and locked onto the cup in his hand.
“Ah, that’s mine…”
“Where do you get off speaking informally to your senior?”
“Give it baaack…”
Maxim shifted the mug left and right, dodging her grasping hands. Christine reached for the floating cup, failed, and puffed her cheeks in frustration.
“Can’t catch it…”
She flailed wildly, then suddenly threw her whole body forward.
“Oof.”
“Gotcha…”
Christine had wrapped herself completely around him. Her arms, which could hardly be called long, barely reached the mug in Maxim’s hand. Ale trickled down, wetting both their fingers.
“Could you… get off me…”
“Don’ wanna.”
Maxim was seriously considering knocking her unconscious and carrying her out when the server returned with the water pitcher and cup.
“…”
“No, look, it’s not—”
“My apologies.”
Thud. The pitcher and cup landed on the table. There was no such thing as affection in this world. The braided server left with an expression of pure disgust. Maxim grabbed Christine by both shoulders—she was now fully leaning against his chest—and sat her upright.
“So mean…”
“Yeah, yeah.”
He poured cold water and pressed the cup into her hands. Christine clutched it tightly, head drooping. Maxim took hold of her hand.
“Drink some water first.”
“Water…”
She repeated his words weakly and brought the cup to her lips. Half of it spilled, half made it into her mouth. When the water streamed down her chin, Maxim used his collar to wipe it away.
“It’s cold.”
“Of course it’s cold. Try to sober up.”
Christine sat in her chair with a vacant expression. Once the situation seemed calmer, Maxim let out a long sigh from the depths of his lungs and leaned back.
“You’ve got it rough, Maxim.”
Paola approached with a crooked grin. His face was flushed; he was clearly feeling the drink as well.
“You left me to suffer alone. How very relaxed of you, sir.”
At Maxim’s words, Paola chuckled and wagged a finger.
“Don’t say such heartless things. Shouldn’t you be thanking me for not interfering at a time like this?”
“Thank you ever so much.”
Roberto watched from a distance. Maxim found him even more irritating than Paola.
“This young lady needs to be taken back to her quarters to rest,” Paola said, looking at Christine, who sat with her head hanging limply. “Shouldn’t you escort her?”
“I was planning to, but if I do it now, won’t it draw too much attention? I’m not exactly beloved around here. I’d rather not earn any more resentment.”
Paola shrugged.
“Well, if that’s how you feel, there is one way.”
He pointed toward a narrow corridor beside the kitchen that led to a back exit.
“There’s a rear door right there.”
Paola winked. The expression looked utterly out of place on his fierce face. Maxim stared at him in disbelief, but Paola seemed completely serious about the suggestion.
“…”
“Hurry up and take her. The drinking is at its peak right now. It’ll be easier to slip out unnoticed.”
Couldn’t they just have people help carry her? Maxim wanted to say it, but before he could open his mouth, Paola picked up his ale mug and wandered back into the noisy crowd of knights with exaggerated cheer.
Christine lifted her bowed head and looked at Maxim. Her forest-green eyes were still lost in a whirlpool.
“Deputy Commander… I’m sleepy…”
Maxim carefully helped the now-drowsy Christine to her feet. She staggered but did not reject his supporting arm.
“All right, all right. Let’s get you to bed.”
Maxim practically carried her out the back door, careful not to be seen. Paola glanced back, the corner of his mouth lifting. I’ll definitely get my revenge someday, Maxim thought as he pushed the door open.
“Ugh.”
The moment the door swung wide, an icy wind—far colder than mere chill—slapped against them. Perhaps because of the alcohol, the night felt much colder than usual. As they walked the empty street, Christine shivered violently in his arms. The cold did nothing to dispel her intoxication.
“Deputy Commander, it’s cold…”
Maxim sighed deeply, removed his uniform coat, and draped it over her. Christine flinched at the sudden breeze, then relaxed into the warmth of the coat and sighed, though she continued to tremble. Before long, however, her steps began to falter. Maxim stopped and looked at Christine, who could walk no farther.
“Sleepy?”
She nodded drowsily. There was no helping it. With a bitter smile, Maxim lifted her into his arms. The streets were nearly deserted. The only sound was the faint, raucous noise of the tavern in the distance. Christine must have been truly drunk; even when he picked her up, she offered no resistance and simply nestled against his chest.
“Deputy Commander…”
“Hm?”
Her voice kept breaking with drowsiness. Maxim knew normal conversation was impossible, yet he answered gently.
“I’m sorry…”
“For what?”
“Just… I’m really sorry.”
Christine curled her small body tighter against him. “Back then… and now. When we first met… even before that…”
Maxim’s brow furrowed as he listened.
“I’ve been sorry… this whole time.”
Moisture gathered at the corners of her eyes. Maxim’s steps slowed, then stopped entirely. A single tear traced a slow path down her pink cheek. He gazed down at her with a complicated expression. Her face was pale, yet faintly flushed from the alcohol. After those words, Christine fell completely asleep.
In his arms, her breathing came soft and even. His embrace seemed remarkably comfortable to her.
“What are you even saying?”
Maxim gave an answer she could not hear and continued walking. He reached the quarters of the Raven Knight Order and struggled to open the door while carrying her. Closing it with a backward kick, he stepped inside. The yellow lantern light in the hallway served as a guide.
Third floor, right?
Maxim recalled Christine’s room with difficulty. He trudged up to the third floor. Pale moonlight filtered through the corridor windows. Opening her door once more with effort, he entered carefully. The room was impeccably tidy. Aside from the tall stack of magic textbooks on the desk, there were almost no personal belongings. The only thing out of place was the rumpled blanket on the bed.
Maxim laid Christine down gently.
“Do I really have to do even this?”
He spoke in a playfully complaining tone. Of course, the sleeping Christine heard none of it. He lifted her legs, untied the laces of her military boots, and removed them with care. He arranged her feet neatly, pulled the blanket up to her chest, then tried to retrieve his coat. Christine, however, clutched the hem tightly and refused to let go.
“…Ha.”
Maxim let out a sigh mixed with laughter and released the coat.
“Why do you follow me around like this?”
He offered the sleeping Christine a bittersweet smile. Follows me well. It was the greatest praise and affection Maxim could give. He watched her sleep for a while before standing. He still needed to return to the drinking party. The intoxication lingered. He had tried to clear his head with the cold wind, but the ale was strong; once it took hold, it refused to leave easily.
Maxim re-entered the tavern through the back door. The noise had died down considerably.
“Good grief.”
Compared to this, Christine’s quick collapse seemed almost respectable. Most of the knights had slumped over the tables, fast asleep. Looking at the complete disaster the gathering had become, Maxim regretted his decision to return. Among those still conscious, only Paola—face even redder than before—waved at him.
“Sir, I was only gone a few minutes. What happened here?”
“What do you think happened? We kept drinking without restraint and ended up like this.”
Paola seemed to have retained some awareness, though his tongue was badly slurred. Maxim looked around for Roberto but saw no sign of him.
“Roberto…”
“He said his stomach felt bad and stepped out earlier. Hasn’t come back yet. He’s probably puking his guts out right about now.”
Not a pretty sight. Maxim gave a wry smile.
“Did you see the deputy commander safely to bed?”
“She’s sleeping soundly.”
Paola nodded in satisfaction.
Maxim rose to return to his original seat in the corner. Since things had come to this, he might as well drink quietly.
“Not drinking here?”
“I’m one of the few still somewhat sober. It feels wrong to drink in the middle of that mess.”
“Fair enough.”
Paola waved him off with a laugh. Maxim sat down, picked at the remaining food, and drank alone. One sip while wondering if Christine was sleeping well. Another while thinking of where Theodora might be. A third while considering the royal family, his own situation, and the state of No Man’s Land. By the time he had drained several more cups, the tavern was being cleared.
His vision had grown slightly hazy.
“Maxim.”
A finger jabbed his shoulder. Paola stood there with Roberto draped over one shoulder. Deciding he had drunk enough, Maxim set down his cup and stood.
“I’ll help.”
He reached unsteadily for Roberto’s other shoulder.
“No need. Take care of the rest. Not many are left. Just wake them and send them off. No one’s as drunk as this one.”
Paola jerked the shoulder supporting Roberto.
“I’ll head out first.”
“You’re not going in drunk like that, are you, sir?”
“Well… that’s exactly what I’m doing.”
Paola threw open the front door with Roberto still on his back.
“Anyway, I leave the cleanup to you.”
“As if I had a choice.”
The tavern door closed. Maxim, along with the owner who had stayed late, woke the remaining two or three knights and sent them on their way.
“Now… who’s left…”
It was the kind of scene that, in a comedy, would have been called clichéd and artificial. Maxim found himself facing Theodora, who sat at an edge table glaring at him.
“Max…im…”
Theodora staggered to her feet. With steps as tangled as her tongue, she slowly approached. She stopped less than an arm’s length away and weakly placed a fist against his chest. Maxim let out a long sigh. The situation was absurd, especially while he himself was sinking into intoxication.
“You’re drunk, Theodora.”
“Don’t care.”
Her eyes were faintly bloodshot. Maxim supported her as they left the tavern. No one else remained. Theodora fought not to lean on him, but eventually gave in and rested her head on his shoulder.
“Let go…”
“Sorry, but I’m not the one holding on.”
She was so drunk it was questionable whether she even registered his words. They walked to the Raven Knight Order’s quarters in silence. Maxim opened the door to the commander’s bedroom. Second time entering someone else’s bedroom today. He helped Theodora sit on the bed.
“Get some sleep. Pretend tonight never happened…”
He was heading for the door when Theodora’s voice stopped him.
“Why did you do it…?”
Her voice cracked.
“You have a fiancée… so why did you… with Christine… the deputy commander?”
Crash. Theodora stood, knocking over a nearby chair.
“I saw everything. You two sitting together… and later leaving alone.”
“Theodora, I told you—you’re drunk.”
“Why… why did it turn out like this?”
Tears began to pool in her eyes. She slowly approached him.
“Why did you leave me in the worst way possible… only to meet again like this… and end up like this?”
Theodora drew closer. The faint scent of alcohol rode on her breath, and her disheveled hair carried a painfully familiar fragrance. Maxim backed away. She closed the distance. His head spun from the rising intoxication and that scent.
“Maxi, tell me… tell me why it turned out like this.”
Theodora’s clouded eyes met his. In the dimly lit room, her gray eyes shimmered with emotion.
“Theo. Just sleep for now.”
When he tried to push her away, she shoved him against the wall.
“No.”
Both her arms slid around the back of his neck.
“It was a side of you only I knew.”
“You’re drun—”
Theodora rose onto her toes. Her lips met his. The smell of alcohol mingled with her scent, rising dizzyingly. Her tongue tangled with his. The room wasn’t red, but if he closed his eyes, it was. The kiss relied entirely on instinct, ignoring technique or conscious thought. Her breath brushed his neck and cheek. Maxim managed to pull her face away with difficulty. Intoxication clouded his judgment. Everything felt dizzy, so dizzy. Theodora’s desperate kisses kept blurring and sharpening before his eyes.
He looked at her ragged breathing. Her lips glistened with saliva.
“Theo, sober up.”
This couldn’t continue. He knew he shouldn’t let himself be swept away. Yet whether it was the alcohol or his own heart, something prevented him from resisting strongly.
“Maxi…”
Once more, Theodora pulled him close. Her other hand gripped the doorknob. Unable to resist, Maxim was dragged along. Behind him, the bedroom door slammed shut with a heavy thud.