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“We are here to settle the matters regarding the dispute. It’s pathetic to be gawking at women in the middle of a war.”

“Who’s gawking?”

Gabel grumbled with an embarrassed expression and fixed his posture and at the mention of “war” his face instantly darkened. Just before coming to Croix, they had to fight a fierce battle against nearly thrice the usual number of bandits and Gabel lost one of his cherished apprentices in the midst of it. Although he sarcastically declared that the fallen apprentice was not worthy of bearing the Remdragon Knight’s armor for losing his life to a bunch of bandits, he paid for an expensive funeral for him. Gabel wasn’t even the only one who had lost a cherished apprentice.

The bandits of Dristan, who were nothing more than a disorganized armed bunch, were rapidly turning into a systematic army. And like a group of rats in a food warehouse, they kept coming in flocks from somewhere, no matter how many of them they slaughtered and drove them away. It was pretty obvious that they had the Royal Household of Dristan backing them. Where else could peasants, who were starving to death, obtain powerful war horses and get their hands on steel weapons? The fact that twenty thousand men single-handedly became soldiers and were controlled by a certain commanding system was threatening.

“This way.”

The butler who was guiding them led them up to the third floor instead of the reception. Riftan followed him and took one last glance at Maximillian Croix. Her face suddenly had an anxious expression and she hid in the shadows. Riftan could clearly see her eyes clouding like a mist, her round face was ghostly pale, and her tiny body donned with a simple reddish-brown dress stiffened in nervousness. He looked away from her again. He wanted to believe that the reason why she looked at him so warily was because she was worried about the news that the knights would bring.

“Kindly wait for a moment. I will seek permission from the Duke and return.”

The butler asked them to wait at the end of a marble-tiled hallway and went inside a humongous mahogany door that stood at least 10 kvets (around 3 meters). Riftan stood calmly in front of the door of the office which was closed humiliatingly on his face last time, waiting for his request for an audience to be granted.

The Duke of Croix permitted them to enter after a long time, letting the steam cool off enough from his head, and Riftan strode through the red door with his knights. The Duke sat in an exquisite chair adorned with a lion’s fur and shot him a cold glare with his green eyes.

“I heard that you’ve come bearing a message from His Majesty.” He crossed his arms above the desk and had a displeased look on his face. “How come he didn’t just send a messenger straight to my castle?”

“His Majesty wanted to impart a clear awareness of what’s happening in the eastern borders. This is also the reason why we regularly report the situation.”

Riftan approached the Duke’s desk and spoke in a monotonous tone, but he replied sarcastically, his neatly groomed mustache twitching.

“Well, what orders did His Majesty give you?”

“His Majesty is concerned about the possible prolonging of the current dispute. Dristan’s Royal Army is intervening and there is a high chance that this conflict will escalate to an all-out-war. His Majesty does not desire for the situation to get any worse.”

“If it is proven that the Royalties of Dristan are backing the bandits, then they are punishable according to the Peace Treaty.” The Duke leaned back on his chair and retorted bluntly. “I cannot come to terms with people who invaded my territory. Even the king should not impose such humiliation to fall upon me.”

“Then how on earth will you punish those rulers of Dristan?” Riftan countered him vehemently. “Will you be the one leading an army to the eastern borders and put King Turben on the seat of trial in Osyria?

The Duke’s face flushed red. “The other monarchs of the six kingdoms will aid me!”

“The Peace Treaty is enforced by the monarchs of the seven kingdoms. Do you really believe that those monarchs will bring the ruler of Dristan to justice?” Riftan continued to speak in a calm manner, turning his hostility down as much as possible. “Dristan will destroy the Peace Treaty of the Seven Kingdoms and it will be used as a means to spark war. The kings do not think that the Holy Pope has the right to judge them.”

“How dare you… are you trying to lecture me right now?”

“I am merely conveying the will of the monarchs.” Despite the Duke’s enraged expression, Riftan remained composed. “His Majesty said that threatening to disrupt the peace is absolutely unacceptable. Thus, I encourage you to immediately terminate this conflict and put an end to the feud with Dristan.”

He took out a letter bearing the royal seal from his robes and placed it on the desk. Instead of picking it up, the Duke stared at it with chilling anger in his pale green eyes. Then, he exclaimed in a sharp tone.

“If you are done delivering your message, leave!”

Riftan went out of the room together with his knights, not delaying. Gabel let out a long sigh as they walked the hallway.

“Is it alright that you gave him that firm of an attitude? It’s best to keep out of that person’s line of sight, otherwise it will be troublesome…”

“I have shown him a decent amount of respect.”

Riftan replied bluntly and strode down the stairs. The women who had gathered before by the second floor’s stair rails were nowhere to be seen. He momentarily glanced at where Maximillian hid and quietly descended the remaining flight of stairs. As they reached the ground floor, servants approached them and led them to the guest rooms.

“We’ll prepare a meal and bring water for a bath at once.”

As the servants left, Riftan took off his armor and went to the window to gaze at the gardens. The pale winter sun shone a faint light over the dark green conifer trees, and birds were harvesting seeds from the flower beds where the grass were dead and yellow. He opened the windows and scoured the garden where Maximillian often took strolls and sighed while leaning against the wall. He felt like he had aged three or four years in the past few months. Riftan plopped down on the bed and let out another weary sigh.

***

The Duke eventually decided to accede negotiations with Dristan, there was no other option anyway. Riftan escorted the Duke’s messengers to the borders where they negotiated with Dristan’s Royal Army. As they traveled back and forth between Croix Castle and the borders, the rainy season arrived.

When the negotiations to stop the conflict ended smoothly, the Duke invited the eastern nobles and the messengers of Dristan to a grand banquet. This was held with the intention of pacifying the grievances of the vassals who had been affected by months of raging conflict. The banquet hall was decorated more luxurious than ever, the food was seasoned with rare spices and all kinds of fruits infinitely filled the tables.

Riftan’s lips cynically pulled to the side as he watched the Duke of Croix on the podium. The man who had been overbearing throughout the entire negotiation process sat next to Dristan’s messengers, acting naturally friendly and even sharing laughter. However, Riftan’s unpleasant mood faded at once when he laid his eyes upon Maximillian who sat modestly next to her father.

He watched intently as she ate grapes piece by piece, then he took a long swig of wine, feeling his throat burning at the sight. Somehow, she was getting way prettier in his eyes every time he looked at her. Recently, just looking at her made him feel pain inside. He let out a troubled sigh and called for a servant to fill his empty glass. Hebaron clicked his tongue, looking at Riftan’s sight.

“Whoever sees you looking like that might think that we have lost. Why do you look like you’re dying?”

“…we didn’t exactly win.”

“It’s an achievement to have stopped 20,000 bandits with merely 4,000 troops and held out for half a year. The negotiations went more smoothly than expected and His Majesty is pleased with the outcomes.”

Hebaron mumbled while sucking his fingers dripping with juices from the greasy food. “No one can deny the vice-commander’s commendable efforts. There will be a ceremony held announcing the new commander of the knights when we return, so be prepared.”

Riftan did not respond and Hebaron looked at him with suspicion in his eyes. “You’re not thinking of breaking your loyalty, are you?”

“Once I become the commander of the Remdragon Knights, you will then become of service to Anatol. Would you be content on serving a lord of a mere territory in the outskirts?”

“What are you babbling on about now? In any case, most of the knights are in no position to acquire a fief, being bastards, commoners, fallen nobles, or second-born sons of less prominent noble families.” Hebaron snorted loudly.

Riftan wanted to sarcastically question Hebaron’s capability to do that, but held it in. Hebaron sipped his ale and continued to talk in a calm manner.

“Also, everyone’s aware that the vice-commander is putting efforts to rebuild that little piece of land. We are all looking forward to staying there.”

Then, Hebaron’s lips pulled to the sides as he stared at the seat where Uslin Rikaido was, the man was looking at him with disapproving eyes.

“Of course, there are some who seem to expect the vice-commander to establish a position in the Drakium Palace.”

“…”

“However, it’s the vice-commander who makes the decision. As for us, we have already made the decision to follow the will of Rifan Calypse.”

The man silently demanded an answer from him with his eyes and Riftan gazed down at his glass of wine with an unreadable expression, then sighed heavily.

“I have no intentions of avoiding it this time. When King Ruben will lower his sword on me¹, I will accept it.”

Hebaron gave him a satisfied smile and placed a full glass of ale in front of him with a thud. “When the vice-commander takes on the position of our commander, I’ll treat him very graciously.”

“… I’m looking forward to that.”

Riftan sighed and took the glass that Hebaron held out to him. Drinking with him usually lasted until the end of the banquet, sometimes even until the break of dawn. Normally, he would have been disgusted and rejected his offer, but that day Riftan was also willing to challenge him with alcohol.

As they turned rowdier by time, some nobles shot them scornful looks. However, he was desperate enough to do anything foolish if he could hold Maximillian’s gaze at him for a minute. Riftan gulped down the drinks that Hebaron kept handing as he felt her curious gaze reach him.

LF: HOMEBOY TRYNA IMPRESS MAXI WITH A DRINKING CHALLENGE HAHAHAH tomador LOL

1 – Choosing the next commander/knighting ceremony is done with the king lowering his sword on the man’s shoulders. We see this in movies, it’s like a symbol of placing the responsibility on one’s shoulders.