The Duke Shares His Beans
Their passion had crossed the threshold of mere respect and into outright worship. A few even stretched out their arms, desperate to shake his hand, but Nyx showed no intention of indulging them.
Nyx had already heard every one of their frenzied declarations inside the building. He brushed them off lightly and strode forward. Only then could Zama and Milvian follow in the path he had cleared.
“Move aside, would you?”
“Hey, I said get out of the way!”
Unlike them, Nyx Farrow had no need to beg people to step aside, come out, or make way. No one blocked his path. The only annoyance he couldn’t escape was the constant pestering from the sides—please take this, please eat that.
“Your Grace, you must be hungry on the road. At least try some of this…”
“Who do you think you are, shoving black beans in front of His Grace? As if something like that would suit his refined palate!”
When one man opened his sack and offered what he had brought, the person beside him sneered. The scolded man huffed in indignation.
“These are beans I roasted fresh this morning. They’re fragrant and delicious.”
Even as he argued back, his voice grew smaller. Having been mocked for bringing “something so trivial,” it was only natural he’d shrink. His confidence stolen, his shoulders slumped. Even to his own eyes, the offering now looked shabby.
As the man tried to close the sack and retreat, a large hand suddenly reached in and scooped out a fistful of beans. The shameless hand, of course, belonged to the Duke of Farrow.
The man pulled down the single layer of bandage covering his mouth, then poured the entire handful through the gap.
His cheeks bulged as he chewed steadily. The man chewed the beans with an expressionless face. He offered no opinion on the taste. Only after he had chewed them thoroughly and swallowed did he indifferently take the whole sack.
“Your Grace…”
The farmer gazed up at him with eyes full of emotion. He believed he had received the Duke of Farrow’s support and comfort.
And the others fell into a similar delusion. They were deeply moved by the sight of the duke rejecting every gift thrust at him, yet graciously accepting the mocked farmer’s humble offering.
Because of that, the crowd no longer pressed him. They let go of their lingering attachments and released him. From now on, Nyx Farrow’s reputation would be further embellished with praises of humility and magnanimity.
Why hadn’t he accepted the food that could simply be eaten and disposed of? When the knights began loading the items onto the horses’ flanks, Tichite finally understood the reason. Once Nyx removed his armor, those gifts had all become baggage. Never mind the weight—the volume alone was no small matter.
“That’s why I told you to sell them off wherever you could.”
“There’s no way we’d get a fair price in a backwater like this.”
“Who told you to get the full price?”
Though it was expensive custom armor, Nyx felt no attachment. It was cumbersome to carry, so he ordered them to take it to a smithy and trade it for a decent sword. But Zama defied the command.
“No way. Just give it to me instead.”
Zama hugged the torso piece of the armor protectively and whined. Nyx let out a dumbfounded snort. With a flick of his hand, he told the boy to do as he pleased and stopped paying attention. Milvian then took over, mocking Zama on Nyx’s behalf.
“You really think a day will come when that fits your body?”
Zama was still in his growth spurt. But the odds of the boy growing into a giant large enough to inherit Nyx Farrow’s armor looked bleak.
“I’ll have it altered!”
Nyx left the two of them bickering and returned to Tichite. He held something out to her.
“Use this.”
In truth, he had picked up one more item from the things people offered on the way. This was it.
“A hat?”
It was a round felt hat without a brim.
“It would be better if you wore it. If you want to avoid standing out.”
She was wearing Zama’s clothes, but the mesh scarf wrapped around her head had been bothering him the entire time. The mismatched outfit only made her more conspicuous, and that was a sure way to draw the wrong kind of attention from leering men.
“Unfortunately, the farther west we go, the more people there will be who are hostile toward Tilamin. You don’t want to be glared at for no reason either, do you?”
Persuaded by the practical consideration of their surroundings, Tichite nodded.
She was grateful that he hadn’t simply ordered her to take it off, but had instead brought a replacement.
She unwound the scarf from her head and pulled the hat on. Then she stuffed her netted hair inside, packing it down firmly. After pinching and adjusting the brimless edge here and there, the hat settled properly.
“How does it look?”
She gazed at Nyx with an expression that seemed to ask exactly that. Nyx checked whether the hat fully contained her hair and pressed a hand to the back of her head.
…Cute.
Dressed in loose men’s clothing and topped with that hat, she looked even more like a young boy.
“Let’s go.”
Nyx answered curtly and lifted her onto the horse. She still couldn’t mount by herself. It felt like he had taken on another high-maintenance young page. He decided to think of it that way. The difference was that watching her filled him with a tender ache alongside the warm smile.
Whenever his chest grew tight like that, Nyx chewed on more beans.
Just because my heart races for a beautiful woman doesn’t mean I’ve done anything wrong as a man.
It could happen. It was allowed to happen.
After all, Nyx was a male with a cock. According to the Saint’s teachings, all of it was a natural emotion.
But even those shameless thoughts evaporated before long. Riding without his armor had changed the situation dramatically from before.
Nyx seated Tichite in front of him on the saddle and took the reins. Unintentionally, their bodies pressed together intimately. Her back molded against his chest, and their arms of vastly different thickness clung to each other as if they belonged together. In other words, he was essentially embracing her.
The excessive closeness made Tichite’s warmth and texture feel startlingly vivid. Of course, layers of clothing still separated them, yet Nyx felt as ashamed and flustered as if he were naked.
Damn it, this is way too close…
Impure dregs still lingered in his heart, and this felt wrong. He was seized by emotions that deserved to be locked away. He wanted to flee back into the hard shell of his iron armor.
On the other hand, Tichite felt that every aspect of her situation was gradually improving. Personally, she had learned how to sway her hips in rhythm with the horse’s bouncing gait. Relationally, the awkwardness of sharing a saddle with her companion had lessened considerably.
Best of all, she no longer had to bump against cold, hard steel plates but soft fabric instead. Whenever she grew tired or drowsy, she would ask Nyx’s permission and lean against his chest to rest. No matter what she asked, Nyx would answer in a dazed voice—“Uh, yeah, sure”—and grant almost any request.
The man told her as they faced a large mountain ahead.
“We’ll arrive soon. There are no villages until then.”
For several days their sleeping arrangements had been uncomfortable and their meals meager. Still, Tichite voiced no complaints. Her body might be a little inconvenienced, but her heart was more at peace than it had ever been.
The one who complained the most was Zama. The boy griped endlessly about the bread, jerky, and roasted beans. Because Zama whined so much about food, Nyx sometimes went hunting himself.
One day he caught a rabbit, another day he tracked down and killed a wild boar. Hunting animals on someone else’s land could be a crime. Worried about that, Tichite had barely been able to eat the meat at first. But she later learned the forest had belonged to the Farrow domain from the very beginning. Only after hearing that could she relax and tear into the boar’s belly.
To be honest, the pig had a terribly gamey smell. Nyx Farrow might be an outstanding hunter, but he was by no means a skilled cook.
Another day he caught fish from a stream. The man wielded his thick blade as deftly as a harpoon.
The largest, fattest fish went to Zama, the youngest. The boy still had a lot of growing and eating left to do.
The next plumpest fish was for Tichite. A palm-sized fish skewered and grilled until its surface was crisp. There were a few slightly blackened spots, but overall it was a nicely browned, savory piece of fish.
Even with such an appetizing dinner in front of her, Tichite looked indifferent. She kept turning the skewer without eating. Finally Zama asked her,
“Aren’t you going to eat it? Then give it to me.”
After the armor, now the grilled fish. The young man had no qualms about taking what belonged to others.
Tichite handed it over to Zama without much regret. Watching her yield so easily, Nyx screamed silently inside.
I went out of my way to pick the biggest one for her. Why?