The Rocksfield Family's Betrothal (2)
Contrary to his fears, the Rocksfield family boasted the grandeur of an impregnable fortress. Even if countless citizen militias swarmed the Rocksfield Earldom in a sudden raid, as long as Troyed Rocksfield and his formidable Rocksfield Knights stood firm, no one could annihilate the household. Had it all been needless worry after all?
Assigned to the finest guest room in the mansion, Yushin rolled around on the bed, thinking of his two disciples who were no doubt still sweating through their training at this very hour.
'As long as Sir Troyed holds down the fort here in the earldom, there's nothing to worry about...'
Seeing the Rocksfield Earldom unscathed finally put his mind at ease. The iron-blooded count, his steel-clad knights, the well-drilled army, and the loyal retainers of the earldom. Even as war engulfed the entire kingdom, the Rocksfield lands remained eerily peaceful, as if time itself had frozen. Refugees poured in from every direction fleeing the chaos, yet the family had suffered virtually no losses.
"Oppa, can I come in?"
Knock knock.
Allen's voice came with the sound of knocking. Yushin stared at the door in surprise. Knocking before entering? The rabid dog of the Rocksfield house, who always kicked the door open like it owed her money! She'd never once knocked—he'd even wondered if she had some curse that made her collapse if she tried.
"Come in."
At his permission, the door creaked open, and the blue-haired swordswoman slipped inside cautiously. Allen glanced around the room before letting out a deep sigh of relief. She'd finally escaped her mother's watchful gaze from afar.
"Mom's making it impossible to breathe."
"You look pretty happy about it, though."
"No, I'm not!"
Grumbling complaints while grinning ear to ear—Yushin couldn't help but chuckle. She seemed thrilled to reunite with her family... well, her mother, anyway. But true to her dishonest nature, tsundere Allen played it off as a burden, her cheeks flushing apricot-pink as proof.
"So... what'd you talk about?"
With the old man, I mean, Allen mumbled.
Yushin pinched her stubbornly pursed lips.
"What kind of talk is that for your father? I told you not to."
"Mmph! Bwubbu!"
As he scolded her, Allen pouted, mumbling back with her lips caught.
"They said we should get married. Sounded like they're picking a date soon?"
"Bwuh?"
Allen's eyes went wide at his words. He released her lips, and she blurted urgently,
"A-And? What'd you say, oppa?!"
"I said sure, why not."
"Ahem! Kh-hm!"
Flustered by his straightforward answer, Allen whipped her head away, her face beet-red, coughing awkwardly. She couldn't even meet his eyes, her cheeks burning. Where was the bold Allen Rocksfield who always charged in? The count's daughter now looked like a shy bride, embarrassment incarnate.
"But this isn't the time to leisurely plan a wedding. The kingdom's at war. With talk of its downfall everywhere, we can't just tie the knot peacefully."
"I-I'll just wipe 'em all out!"
Blushing demurely, Allen expressed her resolve with chilling words. For her beloved oppa's marriage, she'd slaughter kingdom troops or militias alike without a second thought. Casual talk of massacre from her lips.
"Hold up. No reckless moves."
"Fine."
Yushin held out his palm. Like a puppy, Allen nuzzled her head into it, resting her chin there.
"Now that I've confirmed the Rocksfield family's safe, I'm heading back to the Liberia Elf Kingdom. Probably tomorrow."
His promised time with Ardena was two days. But three had passed already, thanks to that unintended reunion with Alpons in Lurd. Traveling with him had forced the delay.
"Oppa."
"Yeah?"
"Um..."
Allen stared straight into his eyes, hesitating over words too hard to voice. Then she finally spoke.
"Can't you... just stay?"
Here with me, like I told Dad—just live here forever?
Knowing he'd never agree, she laid bare her heart anyway.
"You said it'd be okay to marry me."
"Yeah. I like you, after all."
With that, Yushin placed his hand on her head, gently stroking her soft blue locks.
"But I can't betray the people waiting for me. Sorry."
His apology drew a forced smile from Allen as she shook her head.
"No... my bad for asking something weird."
She bit her lip—angry, resigned, yet refusing to accept it. Burying her tangled feelings, she replied with a smile.
"At least you didn't say you were leaving me here. If you had, I really wouldn't forgive you."
"I've got some sense."
"What? You're the most clueless guy alive. The world's biggest blockhead."
"Don't wanna hear that from you."
"Hmph!"
She grumbled to hide her sadness. Yushin tugged her arm. Losing balance, Allen toppled from her seat on the bed, sprawling atop him diagonally. Just a bit closer, and their lips would meet—dangerously intimate.
Whoosh. He felt her breath.
Allen's heart pounded wildly.
"Thanks for understanding."
"I-It's not for you...!"
"Guess no kiss then."
As she averted her gaze, Yushin teased with a knowing smile, testing her.
Allen's body stiffened. She licked her dry lips with her tongue—a silent plea for a kiss right now. In this moment, when else? She craved it: a deep, sweet exchange of affection.
"D-Do it... kiss me. I want to with you."
"If you're a good girl."
"Okay! Just...!"
Tormented by his teasing, she begged desperately, puckering her lips. Cherry lips parted slightly, tongue peeking shyly. Despite countless kisses, she still acted the novice.
"Sir Gilliard, I brought some drinks."
A woman's voice—familiar.
The door burst open. A black-haired beauty entered with a tray of two lemonades. Likely fetching drinks herself for her daughter and her daughter's boyfriend (soon-to-be son-in-law) instead of the maids. No knock—like mother, like daughter—she caught them red-handed.
"......"
"......"
Frozen mid-intimacy, Yushin and Allen turned to stone, like victims of petrification magic.
How awkward could it get? Caught in the one situation, by the one person they least wanted.
Diana moonwalked flawlessly out of the scene—Michael Jackson would weep.
"Hohoho. I'll be going then."
Slam.
The door shut louder than usual. Seconds later, Diana's voice echoed down the hall.
"Seal off this room and the surroundings now."
"Yes, ma'am!"
"We'll have cute grandkids soon, hohoho!"
The countess's cheerful laughter rang through the corridor.
Yushin glanced awkwardly at the door, then at Allen. Sure enough, her face was ballooned red, ready to erupt. One prick, and boom. Tears welled in her eyes—near panic from the shock.
"Ugh, uuuugh!!"
She could only whimper, trembling like a volcano on the verge, blue hair quivering.
* * *
Sermes. Gubelas. Berban.
The count's three sons set off homeward after ample rest. Multiple victories under their belts—befitting the Rocksfield name. The young hounds, future pillars of Valua Kingdom, shrugged boastfully about their feats.
"At this rate, big bro Sermes might marry into the royals, huh?"
The youngest, Berban, snickered, teasing his stoic eldest brother, who took after their father.
Sermes stayed silent. Second son Gubelas spoke instead.
"We didn't crush the rebels for rewards, Berban."
"But good is good—can't we dream a little, bro? Us little bros just want you to succeed."
"Spit some water on those lips first."
Gubelas's retort cracked Berban up. Even Sermes cracked a smile up front.
"Hold. Stop."
Riding through town, Sermes raised a hand at something odd. The Rocksfield forces halted. Thousands of boots stilled as he spotted some thirty-odd mercenaries escorting a single wagon.
A plain supply cart. Nothing amiss at first glance—but Sermes's sharp eyes caught the anomaly.
"What's up, bro?"
Gubelas asked. Sermes nodded at Berban.
"Search the wagon."
"Huh?"
"Too many mercs for one cart. Not even a noble house."
"Huh, you're right. Makes sense."
Berban approached. The guarding mercenaries buzzed like hornets, hostility rising.
"What's the problem?"
"Checking what's inside."
They flinched at Berban's words. Hotheads gripped hidden hilts.
"Please wait."
The apparent leader rushed forward, blocking Berban. Rocksfield knights hands went to swords—ready to charge and slaughter if the lowly mercs acted suspicious.
"We're transporting ordered goods by Valua royal command. Here's the order form proving it."
"Royal order?"
Berban glanced at Sermes. If true, searching it insulted the crown.
Sermes narrowed his eyes. Royal request amid kingdom-wide flames. Proof of purchase from the crown. He eyed the goods warily.
"Wonder what it is."
He extended a hand to the leader, demanding the order form proving the Valua royal purchase.