“What did the Commander say?”
How should I know? Everyone shook their heads. The Commander of the Dark Lions, Evernight, was a very permissive superior, but not someone who allowed just anyone to approach him.
“Even the Commander can’t intervene in this battle. I was just summoned to see him.”
It was Rips. Rips’s shoulders were tense, and unlike his usual attire of just leather armor, he was perfectly dressed with shoulder plates on his chest.
“Are you really going to duel with the… mistress… master?”
A knight momentarily stumbled over his words, seemingly finding the terms “mistress” and “master” quite awkward.
“Of course. He was the one who first said he would prove his abilities.”
Behind Rips, his close companions walked in one by one.
“Haven’t you all been displeased with him too?”
Rips Mohan was a man who had lost his entire family near the Wall several years ago under ‘Ramsey Claicest’, known as the worst commander. A flash of deep anger and lingering resentment crossed his eyes.
“It would be good if I disposed of him on behalf of everyone, wouldn’t it?”
Most of the knights had no families. They endured their harsh lives day by day, burying their painful stories in their hearts. When Evernight led the Wall battle to victory, they finally cheered that the shackles of this miserable life had ended. But the Emperor ostentatiously sent a prince to Tildyen.
“Have you all forgotten already?”
Rips Mohan was dragging out fragments of a bitter past he had tried to bury. Everyone looked around at each other’s tired faces. They suddenly appeared like exhausted defeated soldiers.
“The world is going to hell, Commander.”
Evernight and Riario were leaning against a wall in an unseen corner of the training grounds.
“If we leave it like this, something terrible will happen.”
A deep sigh escaped from the magician’s lips. The North’s honor duel was both an intensely private domain and a sacred realm that no one dared to invade. In this state, the mistress of Tildyen would become a tragic protagonist who wouldn’t live even half a year.
Evernight had his arms crossed and eyes closed. He was recalling the boy he had encountered in front of the bedroom last night.
‘Whether I d-die or the o-other person d-dies, it’s g-going to happen anyway. J-just accept it.’
This was certainly more to his liking compared to the appearance of someone who could only blink without saying a word. The corner of Evernight’s mouth curved up into an elegant line.
“Commander…? Are you smiling?”
“What can we do, Riario? Accept it. Like flowing water.”
The unbearable winter of the North was particularly long, and the lives of the people here were too arduous to endure the boredom.
* * *
The entrance of the Nameless Forest. A boy was bustling about restlessly. Footprints of the same size marked a chaotic path in the snow.
“You’re frantic, boy.”
“Wh-what should I d-do now?”
When he woke up this morning, all the servants in Tildyen looked at him as if he were a mentally ill person who had lost his mind. As he walked down the corridor, maids whispered to each other, and the stable keeper even openly asked this:
‘Master, are you perhaps conducting the honor duel as a jousting match? If so, I need to know in advance which horse you will be participating with.’
At that naively innocent question, Anya gasped in shock and hurriedly sought out Sabelli. When passing through the training grounds, the stares were so blatant that his skin felt like it was burning.
“Since it’s come to this, it’s a better flow.”
Sabelli packed his things and stood up.
“Now we’ll train at the training grounds, not here.”
For a moment, Anya forgot the flow of time. It felt as if he had reverted to an unprepared child. Sabelli threw a wooden sword. Anya reflexively caught it with one hand. Sabelli grinned.
“Follow me. Nothing is more suitable for a surprise attack than this, and God is helping you, boy.”
When Anya and Sabelli appeared at the training grounds, the knights all put down their swords and greeted them with grim faces.
“Scholar. What brings you here?”
Rips Mohan, who had been joking with his colleagues in the corner, ran over in one stride to stand before them.
“We’re going to train.”
“Here?”
“That’s right.”
Rips Mohan scrutinized Anya Evernight up and down with fierce eyes. He had heard that Sabelli Nox was looking after Anya Evernight, but seeing it with his own eyes brought a surge of jealousy. With a reddened face, Rips Mohan spat on the ground.
“Don’t interfere.”
“We won’t.”
The young boy mixed in among the burly knights. The boy they actually faced was so insignificantly small and thin that interest in the honor duel momentarily waned. The outcome was obvious without looking. Only curiosity about what kind of humiliation this prince would face blossomed fully in their minds.
Training resumed. The knights either practiced dueling with weapons they were talented in or trained in swordsmanship. Meanwhile, they were very curious about what kind of training Sabelli Nox was conducting, so they covertly rolled their eyes to peek.
“Left.”
Anya Evernight was doing his best to block the old man’s sword.
“Right. You just died again, boy.”
Anya Evernight’s swordsmanship was terrible. He couldn’t even defend properly, let alone attack. Of course, Sabelli Nox’s swordsmanship was excellent for a magician, so even a mid-level knight would struggle against the old man’s sword skills.
“Rips, instead of sword training, you should be planning how to cut off his head in a spectacular performance.”
Someone draped an arm over Rips Mohan’s shoulder and burst into laughter. That joke filled the training grounds with thick laughter.
“Dead boy. Are you resentful? Are you angry?”
The noisy mockery kept breaking his concentration without him realizing it. He hated this place that reduced him to a laughingstock.
“W-we d-don’t have to be h-here specifically.”
“No. This place is perfect. Have you already forgotten what I said? ‘Dead’ boy.”
Anya circled around in a ring while facing off with Sabelli. He didn’t know when the old man would attack. His forehead was already drenched with cold sweat from tension. The boy had not felt Tildyen’s cold for some time now.
“A dead boy aims for only one moment, and when is that moment?”
The wooden sword swung widely before his eyes. Anya hastily pulled back his body and retreated. His warm, wheat-colored hair swayed. Immediately, the sword dug into his side again. Anya turned his body to avoid the attack. Attacks continued without pause. He hurriedly blocked the blade flying toward his face. Along with a ‘chang’ sound, a deep vibration traveled through his hand.
“When is that moment, dead boy?”
Anya exhaled rough breaths.
“When the opponent lets their guard down.”
The boy’s pupils suddenly contracted sharply. It was a good look. Sabelli smiled.
“That’s right.”
‘Abandon desire,
Even if the God of Death swings his scythe,
Accept it. Submit to it.’
Anya kept murmuring this fact to himself inwardly.
Sabelli’s wooden sword sliced across Anya’s chest.
* * *
The daily routine of the mistress of Tildyen Rock was flowing quite differently from before. The breakfast tray and washing water that had always been brought to the bedroom at a regular time had to be moved up entirely because the master of the bedroom ran to the training grounds at the crack of dawn.
“Oh my, what an unexpected disaster.”
The servants warmed themselves in front of the furnace after emerging from their quarters without even wiping the sleep from their eyes. Having been summoned to the kitchen in the middle of deep sleep at dawn, they were busy suppressing yawns that kept escaping.
“The honor duel is coming soon. It might be his last, so let’s serve him well.”
The women wore crumpled aprons over clothes patched with wool in various places, and the men brought firewood to put in the furnace. The small ember grew enough to bake bread. Oh my, you speak such cruel words so casually. The man who was blowing air with a huge fan waved his hand and burst into laughter.
“Well, well, taking sides now? If it were me, I’d live quietly like a dead mouse. These nobles are strange. Feed them on time, bring warm water, no need to be dragged to the Wall. Does pride feed them?”
Several servants dispersed to their respective areas, complaining with disgruntled voices.
Soon the kitchen was filled with the smell of freshly baked bread and the noisy sound of a man’s fan as he stoked the fire to heat water.
“M-Mr. Gregos. From n-now on, b-breakfast is f-fine. And w-washing water too.”
After several days of contemplation, Anya spoke to Gregos, who was lighting the lamp. The butler blew out the still-burning match and respectfully took one step back. The mistress’s bedroom, not yet at dawn, was dark, and beside it, maids were busy hastily covering their escaping yawns. Anya had been taking in this sight for days.
“From now on, I’ll t-take care of it at the t-training grounds.”
“Master, but that place is not suitable for your use…”
“It’s f-fine.”
Tildyen’s foreigner, Prince Anya, was currently the hot topic of Tildyen Rock. At Anya’s words, the maids opened their eyes wide and looked at each other’s faces. The distance from the training grounds to the main building where the bedroom was located was considerable and took more time than expected.
Moreover… Anya did not want the servants’ work to be increased because of his duel. To be more honest, training was too overwhelming, and he didn’t want to divert his attention elsewhere.
Anya quietly observed Gregos’s reaction. The boy still appeared timid and tender, but somehow he seemed to have grown since they first met.
“Then… whenever you need anything, please call for us anytime.”
Anya smiled silently. Until now, the mistress had mostly been lying in bed with a gloomy face like someone given a death sentence. Seeing his smiling face for the first time, which looked much younger than expected, the maids lowered their heads to the floor and exchanged glances. We thought he was a fussy, immature noble young master, but he has an unexpectedly modest side? Thanks to him, they were guaranteed their morning sleep, which was nothing short of a great blessing to them.
