229 Side Story Chapter “Thank you. I would love to give my well-wishes to His Grace in person, but I cannot leave the city unprotected with all the monster attacks of late.” Having accomplished his mission, Bayern gave Riftan a satisfied smile and rose from his seat. “Then, I shall see you at my castle before you leave the city.” When Bayern and his men filed out of the inn, Riftan escaped to the second floor to avoid the curious gazes of the mercenaries. Elliot Charon was not far behind. “Why would you grant the request of such a presumptuous man?” “It gives us a good excuse to visit Croyso Castle to see if the duke has come to his senses.” “That may be so, but… it would also give the duke the opportunity to question us.” “That much I can handle,” Riftan snapped at Elliot, who was eyeing him with concern. With that, he shut himself in his room. *** When the rest of the scout party returned, the Remdragon Knights made their way to Bayern Castle. There, they set off for the duchy with twenty-one fox skins and seven rolls of silk. Though traveling with wagons slowed the journey by two extra days, it allowed them to enter the duke’s estate without raising suspicion. When the Croyso sentries expressed wariness at the unexpected visit, Riftan pointed to the wagons bearing the crest of House Bayern. “I was tasked with delivering these to the duke. They are celebratory gifts for his daughter’s betrothal.” They waited for the sentries to inspect the wagons, after which Riftan led his knights in a dignified procession through the magnificent gates. Inside the castle, the white walls glistened like silver in the pale winter sunlight. “This way, please.” Sentries armed with long spears flanked them as they led them to the main building. The head steward soon came rushing out to peek into the wagons. “What valuable gifts. I am sure His Grace will be pleased.” “They are from the duke’s vassal. I am merely here to deliver them at his request,” Riftan replied curtly before dismounting. The steward acted as though he had not heard him. He said calmly, “You must be tired from the long journey. Please, allow me to show you to your rooms so you may rest.” Servants came scurrying from the wings at the steward’s behest. Riftan found himself eyeing the corridors as he followed them. He smiled bitterly when he realized what he was doing. To think he would allow himself to get distracted at a time like this. Despite his self-reproach, however, he could not resist seeking her out. “Let us know if you require anything else, Sir Riftan.” The spacious bedchamber was warm from the crackling fireplace, and Riftan began removing his armor piece by piece. Soon, maidservants brought in a tub full of water. After rebuffing their offers to help him bathe, Riftan washed his hair with soap and scrubbed himself clean. He was pulling on the cleanest tunic in his possession when there was a knock at the door. “Pardon me, Sir Riftan, but His Grace wishes to see you. Could you spare the time now?” “A moment. I am getting dressed.” Riftan pulled on his trousers, strapped his sword to his waist, and opened the door. The steward passed a scrutinizing look over his attire as if to assess its appropriateness for an audience with the duke, then led the way. “His Grace is waiting for you.” Inside the reception room, the duke stood with his back to the door, facing an exquisite tapestry embroidered with fish and grain. He turned around once the steward slipped out of the room and closed the door behind him. “What a long time it has been, Calypse. I was told you bring gifts from one of my vassals.” The Duke of Croyso’s ice-cold eyes were in stark contrast to his soft voice. “How generous of you to take on such a cumbersome request.” “I heard that your family was celebrating a happy occasion, Your Grace,” Riftan replied dryly, pretending not to notice the duke’s probing gaze. “Jared Bayern expressed deep regret about not being able to congratulate you himself. He asked me to bring gifts in his stead since I happened to be on my way south.” “Happened to be, you say,” the duke repeated cynically, a smile twisting his lips. “I did wonder why you were in that area in the first place. As I recall, your estate is located southwest, is it not?” “As you are well aware, Your Grace, I am a knight. It is not in my nature to remain in one place for too long.” It was the excuse Riftan had prepared earlier. “We were in the pursuit of monsters when I realized we had ventured east.” The duke narrowed his eyes. Judging by his reaction, he was still unaware that the dragon was stirring from hibernation in the Lexos Mountains. He would not have bothered to question Riftan like this if he were. Not wanting to fan the nobleman’s suspicions, Riftan changed the subject. “If I had not been preoccupied with hunting, I would have prepared a gift myself. Do forgive me for coming empty-handed.” “The betrothal has yet to be finalized,” the duke said, stroking his chin. “Though it is true that marriage was discussed, the prince is only ten years old, as you know. His Majesty and I merely talked about the possibility of holding an official betrothal ceremony once His Highness finishes his studies abroad, but that has not stopped gifts from pouring in from all over. It has put me in a rather uncomfortable position.” Riftan was willing to wager his entire fortune that the duke had intentionally spread the rumor himself. How else could a private conversation within the royal palace have spread so quickly to the borders? Hiding his cynicism, Riftan said in the most respectful tone he could muster, “Whatever the case, it is still wonderful news. Now that your eldest daughter will—” “My younger daughter,” the duke immediately corrected. “The one in talks to marry into the royal family is my youngest, Rosetta Croyso.” Before hearing the duke’s answer, Riftan had not realized how tense he had been standing. He somehow managed to feign calmness as he said, “Whomever it is, it is a union that will bind your house with the royal family’s. Congratulations are in order.” “How kind of you,” the duke said blandly. He lowered himself onto the edge of a silk-upholstered chair. Their conversation must have resolved his suspicions, as the probing look disappeared from his face. “You may take your leave. I only wished to know why you were traveling so close to my lands.” Riftan turned away without a word. As he was about to leave, his feet suddenly refused to budge, and he gulped as his fist tightened around the door handle. Though it was the younger sister at the center of marriage talks this time, Maximilian’s turn could come at any moment. Not only was she of age, but she was also the daughter of a prominent noble house. Men from every corner of the kingdom would want her as their wife. Before that happened, Riftan longed to be able to touch her just once. The urge proved too powerful, and Riftan turned to face the duke once more. “Is there something else you wish to say?” the duke asked with an imperious look. Riftan paused. “I have a personal request.” Deep, worm-like lines creased the duke’s forehead. His piercing eyes seemed to scrutinize Riftan as though trying to gauge his true intentions. “Go ahead,” the duke said in a show of benevolence. “I should like to hear what it is.” Though the duke had given his permission, Riftan’s voice seemed to be stuck in his throat. He had not felt this small even in the presence of the king. Wetting his parched lips, he finally managed to speak. “I would like… to pledge my geas to your daughter.” The duke’s eyes widened. Riftan waited with bated breath for his reply. Though the idea had lived in his head for a while, he had never entertained the notion of speaking it aloud. It was customary for knights to pledge their geas to the wife or daughter of the liege they served. The Duke of Croyso’s current, subtle power struggle with the king meant that Riftan’s pledge could be considered an act of treason. He was willing to risk such accusations for the chance to kiss the hem of her skirt and to call her name. Even once would be enough. Unable to bear the silence, Riftan repeated, “Would you allow me to pledge my knight’s oath to your daughter?” ... “With what intention do you make this request?” the duke said after a long pause. Riftan’s face fell at the suspicion in the duke’s eyes. “A geas can only be pledged once in a lifetime,” Riftan said. “No knight would use such an oath with an ulterior motive.” “So, you merely wish to express your admiration for my daughter?” the duke said, letting out an incredulous laugh. “I find that difficult to believe.” “I simply—” “I doubt you have any honor to pledge.” Riftan stiffened at the unexpected insult. The duke took a sip of wine before continuing nonchalantly, “Honor is passed down through generations. It is not something one can acquire in a day by brandishing a sword.” “I… was knighted by the ruler of Wedon himself with the church’s blessing. I should not have to bear such insult.” “Insult was not my intention. I merely speak the truth. It is unfortunate that you think the king’s favor invests you with the same honor as that of a true aristocrat.” The duke clicked his tongue as though he were truly sorry. ... “I suggest you give up this foolish plan of using me to raise your own standing. I will not have you by my side, nor my daughter’s.” Riftan’s face flushed at the barefaced slander. Although he had known of the duke’s animosity toward him for a long time, he had never thought the man capable of such open mockery. Stunned, Riftan stood rooted to the spot when the duke haughtily motioned with his head. “If that is all, I should like to be left alone. This conversation has worn me out.” Riftan’s fingers curled into fists tight enough for his nails to dig into flesh. He spun on his heel and stalked away, trembling with indignant rage. He was rushing down the stairs when he saw Maximilian Croyso coming up. He froze, and she stopped as she noticed him a second later. Her hunched shoulders and fearful eyes clawed at his heart more savagely than ever. As he stared at the girl, the rage roiling inside him simmered to frustration. She edged closer to the wall, her face stark with fear. Riftan tore his gaze away and carried on past her, feeling like a pitiful tramp driven out for begging.