A Knight Who Protects His Enemies

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Before the meeting, Lady Linne gave me two pieces of advice.

Don’t give them a reason to fight.

Read Count Korod’s true intentions.

…Both were pretty tough pieces of advice to follow.

Count Korod was banging on the table, making a fuss.

“…Isn’t it obvious? Does anyone not know that Roktana has fallen? Just the fact that trade has come into such land is a good thing, right? And what’s the problem with selling goods at such low prices?”

Kelsy retorted, “…It’s those low prices that make life hard for the merchants who have been rooted in Roktana—”

“Who gave you permission to interrupt?”

Kelsy brushed off Count Korod’s tone, pressuring Vivian with faulty logic.

Everything about it looked just like a person itching for a fight.

If it hadn’t been for Lady Linne’s advice, we might have already gotten into a major brawl.

Thinking about just keeping the Korod family away, maybe we could bear with the conflict on some level.

Deciding to be hostile towards the Korod family, we might prepare for a deep fight with them.

Before kingdom wars, family wars used to happen frequently.

No matter how fallen we were, the Rondore family could still handle the Korod family.

But therein lies the problem.

Why does Korod want a fight?

Is there any guarantee that only the Korod family participates in this fight?

What if hidden foes spring out?

What if Robert Rondore is helping the Korod family?

Or what if there’s an even bigger force backing them?

I couldn’t march into the battlefield without knowing anything.

Vivian tried to read Count Korod’s ultimate intentions, but it wasn’t as easy as it sounded.

“Is it okay if the Korod trade doesn’t enter Roktana?”

“It’s a no go; I don’t see any reason that makes sense for it to be okay. Do you think a lord can treat the trade differently based on personal taste? If you act like that, we might differentiate everything related to the Rondore family as well.”

I used to think Count Korod was like Kyle Allen, a blunt bear, but the more I peeled back, the more I felt he was a slippery snake.

He twists words and hides intentions, dangling bait right in front of us.

Now I finally understood why my father had such a bad relationship with Count Korod.

Count Korod, his financial officers who accompanied him, and several vassals including Vivian and Kelsy engaged in endless discussions.

They gulped down the prepared tea like water, sometimes raising their voices, and sometimes gritting their teeth searching for a compromise, but… the conversation just went around in circles.

The Count insisted that he couldn’t withdraw the trade he supported, claiming their actions posed no problems.

Vivian couldn’t sit by and watch the trade ruin the economy of the territory, and stated firmly that if they didn’t change, she’d banish them.

If the trade’s expulsion was decided, that would certainly mean a fight.

The Count’s justification would scream to the world that the Rondore family attacked them without reason, while the Rondores would argue just the opposite to continue the battle.

Vivian sensed she was caught up in some grand conspiracy.

She couldn’t grasp when it all began or how far their expectations had reached.

But how could she avoid a fight when it’s thrown right in her face?

How could one duck a punch when the opponent is clearly out for blood?

Ultimately, it seems like I would have to accept it, preparing for the fight ahead.

Whether the intentions were merely to undermine Vivian’s position, or if they aimed to eliminate her altogether…

“…Looks like the talk isn’t wrapping up anytime soon. Aren’t you hungry? It must have been a tough journey. Let’s eat, rest, and discuss the remaining matters tomorrow.”

Vivian needed time to think.

Listening to Lady Linne, the pressured Kelsy, or whatever other vassals might add would help collect the thoughts I hadn’t noticed before.

The Count nodded and stood up.

“…Fair enough.”

A slight smile played on his lips.

For Vivian, it felt like an uneasy grin.

****

The meal was served in the Hall of Rondore.

Vivian and Count Korod continued their conversation across a long dining table.

Below them, at a shabby table, the vassals from both families, my fellow guards, and the Order of the Eight Knights were stuffing food into their mouths.

At Vivian and Count Korod’s table, their conversation maintained a veneer of propriety.

But our table was engulfed in a complete chill.

No one dared speak, staring contests ensued.

Martin and Willas, who had admired the Eight Knights, realized something was off and tensed up.

“How old are you?”

Raired, sitting across from me, his helmet off and chewing away, asked.

This guy looked to be in his late thirties and was, of course, the leader of the Eight Knights.

“Eighteen.”

He gestured casually towards the blue ribbon around my neck.

“Dragon. How old were you when you caught it?”

“Around fifteen.”

“Blood never lies.”

I studied Raired’s neck.

Though his neck looked bare, he exuded an aura.

It felt like someone who found the straps too bothersome to wear.

“…How many did you catch?”

I asked out of curiosity.

Raired grinned and replied, “Thirteen. Of course, I had a bit of help each time…”

I nodded quietly.

Starting from when Willas spoke, I got the sense that these Eight Knights seem to overly care about visible honor.

From the prestige of being part of the Order of the Eight Knights, their prickly demeanor, to the number of dragons they’ve slain.

It seemed enough to not be disrespected, but perhaps the reason they caught so many was their focus on public perception.

If they were truly that remarkable, they wouldn’t have gone unnoticed in battle.

My father often shared stories of his difficult encounters in war.

The one he praised the most was Lois Rondore.

Now deceased, Vivian’s older brother. Lois Rondore was also known for having shown me mercy once.

“I didn’t know such great knights existed among the nobility.”

Having opened the door, I continued the conversation.

I found it hard to believe these guys were receiving more praise than Lois Rondore.

I felt the gaze of the Eight Knights turn towards me.

“My father never mentioned it.”

Raired replied calmly.

“Some of them have never even participated in war. Our names not being known is quite natural.”

“No, that’s not it. I just hadn’t even heard the term ‘Order of the Eight Knights.’ The same goes for the Korod family.”

“…”

Several of the Eight Knights at the table put down their cutlery a bit irritably.

The youngest looking, Hilden, even glared at me.

He said, “Just like the rumors say. They say you’re getting arrogant because you’re behind your father.”

I responded with a smile. “Our father should be doing fine.”

“Let me give you a little piece of advice; if you don’t shake that habit, you won’t last long. Has the little pup already forgotten what state your father is in?”

“…”

“…If you’ve lost your backing, do well to keep your head down. The mama bear behind you isn’t there anymore.”

As I stared at him for a while, Hilden snorted, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

“Or I could just show you reality. How about a spar with real swords?”

I subtly turned to see Vivian.

She was still talking to Count Korod.

I replied to Hilden, “Sorry, but since I’m Vivian’s guard, I don’t have time for pointless skirmishes.”

Hilden snickered at my answer.

“I knew you’d say that. What makes a kid who hasn’t even grown up think he can talk back to us?”

…Even now, it was ridiculous to see them prioritizing their personal honor over the mission.

“Alright, alright.”

Raired thumped the table with his fist, trying to lighten the mood.

“We didn’t mean to drag it to such a grim atmosphere. Our lords are at odds, but there’s no reason for us to be.”

“Vivian is not my lord.”

“…”

Raired hadn’t aimed to initiate a fight, but after a moment of thought, he spoke again.

“…Isn’t she your lord? Your actions certainly suggest you’re serving one.”

Chris, one of the Eight Knights who had been silent, chimed in.

“That’s a pretty indifferent lord. Doesn’t even send you home when your father is tied up.”

Another, named Bariot, added, “Did you know, Allen? Some nobles from the East Kingdom held as hostages have started their journey back home? Is peace really coming?”

“…”

Their words stung, yet the intent felt vague.

Somehow it felt like they were trying to sow discord between Vivian and me.

With that thought, my caution began to outweigh my anger.

Raired reached out to calm his comrades again.

Then he said to me, “Anyway, I just wish you don’t think too sadly of it. Everyone’s heard how you protected Duke Rondore. It’s a story worthy of a knight. It’s a shame someone like you is still among us. I hated your father, but I acknowledged his ability. Maybe it’s a feeling one gets when faced with a great knight.”

“What’s your point?”

“Let’s just get along. I recognize you.”

Willas next to me gasped in awe.

I didn’t even care.

In response to his bland reaction, I stuffed food in my mouth again.

A crafty atmosphere continued to linger in the air.

.

.

.

Vivian and Count Korod’s meeting went on for a long time.

On the second day, it showed no signs of ending, stretching to the third and fourth days.

Each passing day revealed Vivian’s weariness more and more.

“…We’re not communicating.”

In a moment alone, Vivian floored her challenges with fatigue.

“As discussed, he really came wanting to pick a fight. I see no way out.”

“Then just fight.”

“…There’s no proof that the only enemy is Count Korod.”

“Then we can fight them all.”

I replied.

Vivian chuckled softly at my blunt response.

With her eyes, she expressed gratitude for that little comfort.

But I had a little more selfish reason for giving her that answer.

I wanted to eliminate all of Vivian’s enemies quickly.

To do that, it was better if things got heated.

That way, everyone would drop the pretense and show their true intentions.

Even putting aside the worry that my father might not have much time left, I wanted to finish things here quickly.

As time went on, I became more concerned about the deepening bond we shared.

I knew we couldn’t end up together in the end.

But now my growing feelings for her felt frightening.

Changes in physical contact made previous moments with her feel less than trivial, arising an overwhelming craving.

Even in this trivial conversation, I felt the battle against the desire to hold her tightly.

I wanted to leave when I could stand on my own, free from this curse.

Hoping that I wouldn’t reach a point where I couldn’t leave her because of how deep it had gotten.

I knew that time was running out.

So I prayed that all of Vivian’s threats would show themselves at once.

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