5. Nobility (5): Bjorn
Bjorn sat fidgeting anxiously, waiting for Jayden. Karl had assured him that if he came to the Paralroma Workshop at this exact time today, he would surely meet him—but Jayden was nowhere to be seen, not even a glimpse.
It was nearly time to return to Leon. The regretful moment of leaving the debauched city of Eliyum was drawing ever closer, minute by minute. He had resolved to visit that infamous Castle of Atonement, Stunel, tonight no matter what—but for someone like him, under constant surveillance with eyes attached to him twenty-four hours a day, it was no easy feat.
Right now, in front of the main entrance to the Paralroma Workshop where Bjorn sat, two escort knights—his guards—stood watch. His plan was to meet Jayden here, slip out the back door, and use the shop's exclusive carriage to evade the encirclement. But though he waited restlessly on the second-floor VIP floor, the shop owner, Lord Edelburir, hadn't shown so much as a hair.
As he scanned about in mounting worry, the sound of footsteps climbed the stairs to the second floor. Glancing toward them, he saw a woman deeply hooded in a cloak. She was fairly tall, but her figure suggested youth—generously, perhaps just twenty. Yet a lady around twenty would typically be past marriageable age, married; she lacked that distinctive married air, so she might have only recently come of age.
Though her hood concealed her full face, her pale, slender jawline and the milky skin of her hands left a striking impression. Had this been back in his own lands rather than Eliyum, he might have approached and tried to glimpse her face.
As the woman reached the top of the stairs, Bjorn quickly turned his head away. There was no benefit to anyone here recognizing his face.
She appeared to be there to pick up a reserved item. Her voice, clear and melodious in response to the clerk's question, was pleasing to the ear. The accent of her Coretti was definitely not Ashton—neither rapid nor inflected, which oddly put a corner of his mind at ease. If not Ashton, then naturally Templton. His mood inexplicably lightened.
Bjorn glanced anxiously at the clock on the wall. He could delay no longer. He gave up on meeting Jayden. Time was running out.
As the cloaked woman paid and departed, Bjorn swiftly approached the second-floor desk and ordered a long robe—larger and fuller than the one she had worn. Paralroma didn't typically handle clothing, but as specialists in travel goods, they stocked traveler's cloaks.
The slender beauty of a clerk smiled brightly and fetched a premium travel robe. Bjorn took it immediately, draped it over himself, checked in the full-length mirror that his face was well concealed, then slipped out the back door instead of the front.
He charged the robe to Jayden's account via the clerk who had recognized his face.
The moment he exited the shop, Bjorn broke into a run. Escort knights weren't just skilled; their senses were keenly developed like tentacles. They would soon notice his absence.
He dashed at full speed through the labyrinthine alleys of the tangled commercial district, far from the Paralroma Workshop. After running for a good while, feeling he'd put considerable distance between them, he halted in the middle of a narrow alley.
“Huff, huff, heuk…”
His chest heaved, breath catching in his throat, sweat beading on his forehead. He loosened the neatly knotted shirt collar, exposing his chest to the cool air, and only then did he feel alive. He regulated his ragged breathing.
Lifting his gaze down the narrow alley, he saw the main avenue where carriages bustled by. As he stood catching his breath, his panting gradually steadied.
Bjorn stared at the avenue for a time. His mind raced. Now free of the knights' watch, he could head to the main road, hail a carriage, and go straight to Stunel—it should work.
As he mentally mapped out the plan and looked ahead, a familiar figure caught his eye.
Huh?
A woman craning her neck long toward the busy avenue, walking anxiously. It was the same woman from the shop earlier. The deeply hooded cloak, the blue dress peeking beneath, and crucially, the Paralroma Workshop paper bag in her hand confirmed it.
Watching her struggle to hail a carriage, Bjorn let out a soft chuckle. Of all times, during the evening rush. A noble lady trying to catch a commercial carriage in the heart of the bustling district—it felt out of place.
Low nobility? If she lacked a family carriage, perhaps a fallen noble or humble origins. High nobility aside, low nobility were rare encounters, unlikely entanglements.
He should have looked away immediately, yet Bjorn kept watching her intently, drawn by some inexplicable curiosity he couldn't justify. That's when he saw her lightly bump into a man approaching from the front—deliberately, it seemed.
The man's attire suggested middle-class freeman, but there was an odd dissonance. His gait and sleazy demeanor reeked unmistakably of criminal intent. Judging by his dress, likely a pickpocket or petty thief.
The woman politely bowed her head in apology after the bump, and the criminal sauntered past nonchalantly, vanishing with light steps.
“Oh dear.”
Bjorn muttered in pity. That naive noble miss surely hadn't even realized she'd been robbed.
And sure enough, after finally hailing a carriage, she looked bewildered, glancing around before realizing something and patting herself down.
But Bjorn wasn't the only one watching her closely; two young noblemen approached slowly from behind.
That was when it happened.
From the alley behind, the patter of rapid footsteps echoed—clank clank, the clamor of longswords at their waists, the ground thumping heavily. Likely two of them.
No wonder it felt like I'd wasted too much time here.
While Bjorn had been distracted watching the cloaked woman, the sharp-eyed escort knights had caught up.
The footsteps drew nearer. Finally, the sound of them rounding the narrow alley's bend.
Bjorn whipped his head back, spotting the two charging around the corner. His robe offered momentary relief, but their unusually robust builds meant he'd be recognized soon enough—he grew intensely anxious.
The avenue lay ahead, knights behind. The knights milling at the rear peered into side alleys, tilting their heads. They hadn't yet identified the robed man in the alley's center as Bjorn.
Bjorn stepped toward the avenue. Ahead, the cloaked lady was pleading with the driver, looking troubled—likely asking to wait until she found her purse or promising payment on arrival.
The driver, swamped with evening passengers, hadn't shaken her off yet—either because her looks were appealing or he'd given up on fares this hour. The young nobles closing in behind her probably hoped for the former.
They drew quite near.
Well, anyway…
Bjorn needed a carriage anyway. And part of him was curious about the full face of the hooded woman he'd glimpsed in the shop.
The knights noticed his quickening pace, sensed suspicion, and followed. The footsteps crossing the alley sped up.
First, shake off the trailing knights successfully. And I need a carriage too.
Moreover, those young nobles approaching her from behind rubbed him the wrong way.
A noble has a duty to protect a vulnerable lady, after all.
Bjorn bolted toward the woman. The pursuing knights immediately gave chase.
Her slumped posture signaled failure in her haggling with the driver. She was closing the carriage door she'd meant to board.
Definitely not Ashton. Her accent marked her Templton nobility for sure. If she was from Templton, Bjorn could do whatever he wanted right now without issue.
The knights' footsteps closed in rapidly. Tension and urgency surged.
Bjorn charged straight at the woman just ahead. With terrifying speed, he swept her into an embrace, arms around her waist, and pressed his lips to hers.
Her body stiffened rigidly in his arms, the sensation vivid. At the same instant, the tenacious knights behind halted abruptly.
They'd judged the robed man's build in the narrow alley similar to Bjorn's and were observing—but when he ran, they pursued with conviction, only to realize upon arrival that it was for a lover's kiss. Disappointment showed.
Yet lingering suspicion kept them from leaving entirely.
Bjorn shifted position, deepening the embrace and kiss to envelop her more securely. She was slightly taller but light, fitting perfectly into his arms like she belonged there.
A dizzying, fine fragrance wafted from the firmly held woman—fresh and crisp floral notes. Moreover, the lips meeting his in surprise were astonishingly soft, warm and moist.
The knights who had seemed ready to turn and leave lingered a bit longer before gradually retreating. Once their footsteps faded completely, a sly thought crept in: Well, since it's come to this, why not indulge a little more?
Bjorn tightened his grip on her waist and parted their joined lips, his tongue delving in.
“Mmph…”
Startled by the unfamiliar intrusion, her eyes widened round.
For those who don't remember, please refer to episode 5~