Chapter 11

In the end, the disturbance was brought to an end when the temporarily hired soldiers dragged away the men who had started the violence. However, Riat’s presence continued to draw the attention of many people, so Sicarias suggested that she go inside the annex.

Riat led the black-haired man, who was still standing there blankly amid the commotion, into the annex.

Inside the building, a physician was already waiting, though no one knew when he had been assigned there. His presence made it clear that disturbances had been occurring here fairly regularly.

Riat frowned slightly and said,

“Anyone who causes a disturbance here is to be expelled immediately. Remove their names from the list as well.”

“Even if they’re fighting over their beloved Countess?”

“The competition hasn’t even started yet, and they’re already fighting. I don’t like that. They should conduct themselves properly even when I’m not watching. They’re people who want to become my husbands, so how could I possibly accept them being this jealous?”

Once the competition began, she intended to let them compete with one another as much as they wanted, of course. But she could not tolerate this kind of fighting.

They should prove that they were better than their rivals. Belittling or harming their competitors was simply despicable.

With an irritated gesture, Riat swept her hair back before examining the black-haired man’s cheek, which the physician had carefully treated.

The wound hardly required treatment at all, but Riat had fussed over the physician as though a precious treasure had been scratched, insisting that he make sure it left no scar.

The man looked around as if he had absolutely no idea how this situation had unfolded, while Sicarias gave him a look that clearly said he should get used to it.

Riat, completely oblivious to the exchange between the two men, approached him.

“You really are…”

The question, filled with bewilderment as to whether she truly was Riat Pshikia, trailed off.

When he had met her in the market, he had assumed she was the daughter of a noble family, but he had never imagined that she was the lord of this territory.

“What’s your name?”

“…Arvid.”

The name that finally emerged after the silence suited the man remarkably well. When his mouth was shut, he gave off an aura that made it difficult to approach him, yet the moment he opened it, he could verbally overwhelm his opponent while wearing a mischievous smile. He was a truly fascinating man.

He seemed frivolous, yet somehow not frivolous at all.

He didn’t give his family name. So he probably isn’t a noble.

Riat recalled how she had initially assumed he was a nobleman, then came to the conclusion that a handsome face could shine regardless of social status. She nodded.

“…You really are the Countess of Pshikia?”

“If you’ve submitted your application today, Arvid, I think it would be better if you addressed me respectfully, with due reverence.”

“Of course, Your Excellency.”

His quick shift to honorific speech seemed somewhat playful, but Riat had already given his appearance high marks, so she merely nodded.

Just then, Sicarias called Riat. Apparently, he had received a report from a servant who had hurried over from the mansion, and his expression had stiffened slightly.

“The knight sent from the Imperial Palace has just arrived at the mansion.”

“Oh.”

Riat let out a short exclamation before turning around, thinking that he had arrived at a good time. She had only stationed temporary guards at the mansion, but apparently she needed to establish a proper knight order there as soon as possible to restore discipline.

Riat was not particularly pleased that such a disturbance had occurred in her territory, much less inside her mansion. It meant that people had thought this place was lenient enough that they could cause a commotion without consequence.

It absolutely had nothing to do with Arvid’s injured face.

Riat walked toward the door as though she were about to leave, then suddenly turned her head and spoke to Arvid. Their gray and green eyes met in midair.

“Make sure you take good care of that wound so it doesn’t leave a scar.”

She had phrased it as indirectly as possible when what she really meant was Take good care of your face, but both Sicarias and Arvid immediately understood the true meaning.

Since the three of them were not the only people in that space, a rather obvious rumor began circulating afterward: if one wanted to win the competition, one apparently needed to take good care of one’s appearance as well.

As they headed toward the mansion, Riat was briefed on the knight who had come.

Although he was a knight dispatched from the Imperial Palace, it had not yet been decided whether he would actually take charge of the knight order here.

Therefore, Riat asked Sicarias to tell her the basic information about him so that she would not make any mistakes when meeting him.

“His name is Rokan de Pendelium. He is the second son of the Marquess of Pendelium, and he passed the knight examination at the youngest age ever recorded. After coming of age, he won a swordsmanship tournament held in the Imperial Capital and was personally awarded a sword by His Majesty the Emperor.”

Riat had made the rather outrageous remark that she preferred a younger partner when speaking to the Emperor, so she had thought he might ignore her request.

Yet the knight he had sent was quite—no, extremely—impressive, and Riat’s eyes widened.

Does that mean capturing the traitors was still considered the greater achievement?

“He was also the commander of the Second Imperial Knight Order.”

“Was? Ah, because he’s been sent here now, so you’re speaking in the past tense?”

“No. He stepped down from his position two weeks ago. The Marquess of Pendelium was the last person to meet Count Bortus in the capital before his death. There was no evidence that he had conspired in the rebellion, but…”

Sicarias let his words trail off, but Riat could more or less guess what came next. There was no evidence, yet the Emperor had not withdrawn his suspicions. Although he had not directly punished the marquess, there must have been subtle pressure afterward.

Then is Sir Rokan being sent here because they intend to drive him out of the capital altogether?

“Sir Rokan has a very upright character, which is why he is considered one of the leading candidates to succeed the Marquess of Pendelium.”

“And yet they sent that heir here.”

“…Yes.”

The Imperial Court’s wariness toward House Pendelium was obvious. The family was suspected of conspiring with Count Bortus in the rebellion, and amid all that, its heir had stepped down from his position as commander of the Imperial Knights, practically as though he had been dismissed, and had been sent to the Pshikia County.

Would the Marquess of Pendelium resent this, or would he see it as an opportunity?

By now, word had probably spread quietly among the nobles that Riat had secretly removed the list of those suspected of conspiring in the rebellion.

Riat shook her head in annoyance.

The Emperor’s intentions were painfully obvious, yet she was now going to have to deal with pointless games of political maneuvering.

“I hate troublesome things.”

House Pendelium was not on the list of those who had conspired in the rebellion.

Riat calmly recalled that fact as she arrived in front of the drawing room.

Guests had rarely, if ever, visited the mansion, so standing before the drawing room felt strangely unfamiliar. No—it was not merely unfamiliar.

This was actually her first time.

Her father and younger brother, who had suddenly shown up the last time, had not been guests but rather unwelcome nuisances. They had not even met her in the drawing room. They had barged straight into her office.

Riat realized that Rokan de Pendelium was the first guest she had received since becoming Countess.

She straightened her posture.

She adjusted her expression to appear as aristocratic and elegant as possible, while taking care not to look arrogant, then ordered the servant to open the door.

The man she encountered inside the drawing room, Rokan de Pendelium, had striking ash-gray hair.

Though its color was somewhat dark, that very quality made him appear calm and composed, while his impossibly blue eyes looked like jewels.

The uniform of the Imperial Knights was a splendid combination of white and gold, and it suited Rokan perfectly. His face was not at all overwhelmed by the ornate uniform. His expression was impassive, but Riat had no difficulty reading the faint displeasure beneath it.

“…It is an honor to meet you, Countess Pshikia.”

Rokan rose from his seat and slowly bowed.

Riat happened to notice a badly crumpled piece of paper in his hand. She wondered what it was, but it had been crushed so badly that she could not make out the writing.

“Thank you for coming such a long way. It is a pleasure to meet the renowned Sir Rokan.”

Riat offered him a light greeting as well. She was a countess, while he was the son of a marquess, so she technically held the higher rank, but she still showed him the proper courtesy due to a knight.

Soon, simple refreshments and tea were prepared in the drawing room.

Riat watched the steaming tea pour from the spout of the teapot and fell into thought for a moment.

For some reason, Rokan did not seem to have a favorable impression of her from their very first meeting. He seemed to be doing his best to hide it, but even so, she could still read the displeasure he had failed to conceal.

Why?

Was he unhappy about being sent to what had once been Count Bortus’s territory? Perhaps his family had ordered him to find evidence proving their innocence, and he was so displeased about being sent here that he was prepared to disregard even that?

“We found a tea with a particularly lovely aroma. I hope you like it, Sir Rokan.”

Riat’s mind was racing, but none of it showed on the surface. She smiled elegantly as she spoke.

Rokan still did not answer.

Riat was beginning to wonder how long he intended to maintain this attitude.

So she drank her tea alone, until only half of it remained.

At last, Rokan placed his hand on the table.

For a moment, it seemed as though he was going to drink his tea, but instead he merely placed the badly crumpled sheet of paper on the table.

He must have agonized for a very long time before finally doing so and speaking about it, because his lips trembled faintly.

“…On my way here, I saw an extremely shocking official notice.”

Riat’s gray eyes flicked downward and dryly scanned the paper.

[Seeking Knights to Serve in the Pshikia County.]

It was an extremely straightforward title.

Riat read the requirements she had written beneath it, followed by the recruitment period and the salary.

There were none of the elaborate flourishes or metaphorical expressions that were commonly found in documents exchanged between nobles.

Riat had simply written down the information that was necessary and nothing more.

“Did… Your Excellency really write this document?”

“Yes. My seal is stamped at the bottom as well. It’s just difficult to see because it has been crumpled.”

What exactly is the problem?

Riat had always thought that an official document was better when it was concise and got straight to the point rather than being filled with unnecessary words.

Just as Riat tilted her head in confusion, Rokan spoke in a voice that sounded as though he were grinding his teeth.

“A knight’s loyalty is sacred. It comes from genuine devotion to one’s liege. And yet you intend to purchase that loyalty with money? I can see exactly what you think of knights.”

His criticism was so cutting that it was almost surprising he had remained silent until now.

So that was why he had looked so displeased.

He was offended that she had dared to try to buy a knight with money.

Riat somehow felt deflated.

Growing rather listless, she tilted her head to the side.

“Is the amount not to your liking? If so, I am more than willing to increase the salary.”

“…Are you insulting me?”

“Of course not.”

“A knight’s oath of loyalty is akin to a vow to follow his liege for eternity. That is how important a liege is to a knight, and the loyalty he pledges remains in his heart for the rest of his life. And yet you intend to purchase something like that with money. The fact that you offered eighty gold coins in the first place shows that you intend to buy knights with money.”

Riat listened quietly to his lengthy speech.

Then, all of a sudden, she burst out laughing.

It was not a laugh of disbelief or absurdity.

It was a clear, genuine laugh, as though she were truly amused.

“Ha-ha, Sir Rokan.”

Riat smiled so radiantly that it seemed as though flowers were blooming around her, the corners of her eyes curving gently.

For a moment, Rokan wondered whether she was deliberately smiling like that to make use of her beauty.

His expression consequently hardened even further, while Riat continued to smile sweetly.

Yet the words that slipped casually from that incomparably beautiful face were painfully dry.

“Who would want to swear loyalty to me?”

“…”

“A young woman who killed her husband, abandoned her family, and is infamous for being utterly wicked. A strange woman who, barely after killing her husband, held a competition to find herself a new one. A woman who suddenly became rich overnight and seems to have gone mad. Those are only a few of the rumors circulating throughout the capital.”

There was not the slightest trace of self-pity in her laughter.

“Would you want to swear loyalty to me, Sir Rokan? No. Even if you weren’t the one in question, what knight would want to swear loyalty to a woman like me?”

She was smiling brightly, and her voice was utterly even, as though she were simply stating an indisputable fact.

Yet for an instant, Rokan felt as though he could not breathe.

Perhaps he would not have felt this way if Riat’s voice had trembled when she said those words.

Or if she had become angry at the circumstances that had forced her into making such a choice.

If she had shown even a little resentment or injustice…

Perhaps then he would not have felt this way.

Rokan breathed slowly.

Meanwhile, Riat picked up the document from the table.

It was the paper Rokan had placed there moments ago—the official notice that had been crumpled horribly in his hand throughout his journey from the capital to this place.

Riat unfolded it and smoothed it several times with her palm.

Swish. Swish.

The sound filled the suffocating silence that had followed the end of her laughter.

After repeating the motion several times, the paper became flat again.

But the creases remained.

As though they would never disappear for the rest of its life.

Riat pointed at the document with her index finger.