“Sit down, Rein. Everyone, sit. You must be hungry, so let’s have the food brought out.”

The Count gestured lightly as he headed to the head seat. The servants moved and people who’d been standing took their seats, making the dining hall noisy again. Everything was so natural it seemed like nothing was wrong at all.

The Count didn’t introduce his new wife to Reingart. 

He simply went to his seat calmly, and the woman standing beside him silently headed to her own seat on the opposite end. 

No one seated around the table, not even the butler and servants, seemed bothered, which made it even more bizarre. Reingart seemed to be the only one finding this situation awkward.

What is this?

His thoughts about how to act when introduced to the Countess became meaningless. Since he wasn’t introduced, he couldn’t dare greet her or even make eye contact. 

Reingart was bewildered but sat down pretending to be calm. He was seated at the seat of honor to the Count’s right. 

Though it was his first time being assigned to a seat that had always belonged to the eldest son Volker, he felt nothing.

“Only knights who distinguished themselves received special leave to return home, right?”

“His Majesty bestowed his grace.”

“He rewarded your achievements.”

“Duke Heis’s envoy still has time before returning. When the recall order comes, we must return immediately.”

“The recall order won’t come. Irving Glen won’t stand against us. Not to mention Alonso. The war will clearly end like this.”

The more Reingart conversed with the Count, the more out of place he felt. 

Receiving praise and questions in turn from the people seated around the table—the Count’s two sons and their wives, the vassals—raising his glass for toasts, eating rich food, the dissonance grew stronger.

Even after three or four glasses of wine had emptied, the Countess seated at the end of the table didn’t say a single word. Because all conversation here was conducted in Trisen.

“You… you can speak the King’s language?”

That woman doesn’t know our language.

“They say the King’s head still hasn’t been taken down in Kingsburg. The smell is so terrible no one goes near it.”

“It still stinks? By now only the skull and hair should remain, right?”

“The north is cold. It was frozen all winter, so now it’s rotting in full force.”

The Count’s eldest and second sons laughed while chewing bloody meat. The two noblewomen wrinkled their noses in disgust and shot their husbands dirty looks. Reingart lost his appetite and raised his wine glass to take a large gulp.

While doing so, he glanced at the end of the table. The young Countess sat with proper posture, cutting the food on her plate into small pieces. 

Earlier he’d thought it was aristocratic impassiveness, but looking again, she seemed rigidly pale. Perhaps it was fortunate? That the woman couldn’t understand this conversation.

“Duke Heis showed excessive mercy. To give a dead king a proper burial? That man always acts like he’s the only noble one. When was it that he had his son cut off the King’s head?”

“Thanks to that, he earned the infamy of Kingslayer, so he probably thought to lessen the criticism that way. He could only claim that land if he appeased the people of Kingsburg.”

“King Delmas was a tyrant to his people too. Punishing him decisively is advantageous for winning hearts and demonstrating the conqueror’s power. His Majesty was wise.”

“You’re right, my lord. I thought the same.”

Throughout the conversation, the men kept glancing toward the princess. When the name “King Delmas” came up, they even gave her blatant looks. 

They exchanged insulting words to her face, enjoying their superiority, and Reingart finally understood what kind of entertainment the princess provided at this table.

The Emperor occupied Mendel Castle, the central stronghold, last autumn and has remained there since. They said he dug up the King’s buried body, cut off the head, and hung it before the palace gates, ordering everyone passing by to throw stones and spit at it.

Whether that cruelty stemmed from resentment toward the tyrant or political calculation, Reingart thought it excessive. He’d been taught that mercy and courtesy toward the defeated was chivalry.

“By the way, did Sir Reingart get a taste of women at Mendel?”

It was Volker who suddenly changed the subject. One of his flaws was that he liked alcohol but got drunk quickly and often misspoke.

“You haven’t found a woman to your taste yet. Maybe southern women aren’t your type—I’m curious if you had some different experiences in the north.”

“There are many beauties in Mendel. Isn’t it Her Majesty the Empress’s hometown?”

“Even half as pretty as her would be quite worth seeing, right?”

“As a knight of the conquering army, there must have been plenty of women throwing themselves at you. Isn’t that right?”

Reingart knew what they were implying. Many believed plunder and r*pe were the conquering army’s right. 

Though prohibited by military law, even when caught, commanders often turned a blind eye with light punishment. To them, the morale of allies risking their lives in battle was more important than the honor of farmers’ daughters or maids.

“We were ordered not to harm civilian women. It was a direct command from His Majesty, so everyone in the camp strictly observed it.”

“That must have been disappointing. But there were prostitutes, right?”

“Dietrich, my dear brother. Would our chaste knight lay hands on a pr*stitute?”

Everyone burst into laughter at Volker’s words. Reingart also made something resembling a polite smile. 

Reingart means “chaste knight.” 

A ridiculously noble name to give a maid’s son. He’d always wondered who gave him that name.

“That’s honorable conduct, but keeping women too distant doesn’t seem beneficial either.”

When the Count interjected, everyone’s eyes turned to him. His face flushed with alcohol looked quite pleased.

“You’re in your prime, aren’t you? Youth doesn’t return. For a man, knowing how to enjoy yourself is important too. You’ll need to take a wife soon.”

Reingart met eyes with the faintly smiling Count. Volker chimed in with a laugh, and Dietrich and the vassals added their comments. 

Even the two noblewomen glanced this way with meaningful expressions. Reingart acted like their attention was awkward but not unwelcome, smiling appropriately and picking up his wine glass.

While taking a sip, he glanced at the end of the table again. The young woman still sat quietly with her eyes lowered. 

Occasionally she picked up her glass and seemed to cut food on her plate and put it in her mouth, but she never made a sound. 

While everyone chattered and laughed boisterously, she alone remained quiet. Like someone who could neither hear nor speak.

Like a ghost.

“I’m… going to see my brother.”

The woman didn’t understand the jokes and couldn’t join the conversation. No one considered her by using the Common Tongue or translating. 

Everyone at this table, including the woman herself, seemed unbothered by this situation, which made Reingart even more uncomfortable.

He could also understand the status assigned to that woman in this castle. War prisoner and spoils of war. A doll or ornament. 

A Countess but not the lady of the house, a symbol of favor bestowed by the Emperor. Count Rothe seemed to use his young wife for such purposes.

And at times, he’d enjoy his husband’s pleasures too.

“For a man, knowing how to enjoy yourself is important too.”

The moment that thought reached him, Reingart turned his eyes away and never looked toward the woman again.

“Can you kill me swiftly?”

When he emptied his glass again, his head throbbed slightly. The alcohol seemed to be hitting him belatedly. 

Perhaps because he’d eaten plenty of hometown food for once. Nevertheless, he devoured food until he couldn’t eat anymore and kept drinking to suppress the fullness that bordered on discomfort.

Was this stuffiness and irritation because he was tired? 

The day he returned home after a year, having fought in the war. He’d just finished a long journey, so rest was probably needed.

***

Throughout the dinner, Reingart agonized repeatedly. Amid the noisy people and the quiet woman, he was caught in his own turmoil. 

Should I report it? Must I? 

He couldn’t understand why he was even having such concerns, but soon found a plausible reason.

This woman wasn’t just a noblewoman. She was a princess of a fallen kingdom and a gift the Emperor bestowed upon Rothe. If it became known she’d tried to escape, not only would it cause trouble, but the Count might face an awkward situation.

Was that serving his lord?

If only I keep quiet, everyone will be comfortable. The Countess returned safely and is sitting there eating obediently, isn’t she? 

Just instructing the gatekeepers to be careful about maids coming and going should be enough.

He couldn’t make up his mind until the dinner ended, and ultimately returned to the barracks instead of going to the Count.

Reingart was the only knight with a room in these barracks where soldiers stayed. Knights usually got houses in the village outside the castle and lived with their families. 

He hadn’t had the chance because he went to war right after his knighthood, but now that he’d returned, he needed to find his own residence too.

Reingart had spent ten years as a squire in this room with Erich. Even for a noble’s son, the process of becoming a knight was strict, so the two underwent the same training. 

However, as soon as he became a knight, Erich returned to his father’s manor while Reingart remained here. If Erich were alive, he would have lived in that manor even after marriage. Like his brothers. Taking a nobleman’s daughter his father chose as his wife.

“You’ll need to take a wife soon.”

Will he arrange my marriage too?

Reingart was a maid’s son but a sworn knight. He distinguished himself in war, had an audience with the Emperor, and received the lord’s favor. Born without a father and lacking a surname, he was excellent son-in-law material.

Men like Reingart took their wife’s surname after marriage, making them very practical sons-in-law for nobles without sons or wanting to pass their estate to daughters. Enough to offset the flaw of common birth and more.

When he’d thought that far while undressing, someone rapped on the door from outside.