Chapter 18

“Greetings, I am Randolph, the third son of Viscount Garten, who governs Eldorff. It is my utmost honor to serve under Cambiano’s shield.”

He was a middle-aged man who appeared to be in his forties, with a strikingly handsome face. His attire, more luxurious than anything seen during his two weeks’ stay in Oedel, hinted at the prestige of the Lord he represented.

“…I am Karel of Montferdia.”

“It would have been proper for my father to personally greet you, Young Master of Montferdia, but he is far too elderly to prepare for winter travels. Thus, I have come in his stead. Had you passed through the main castle, we would have welcomed you with even greater hospitality. I wonder if the village chief has taken good care of you…”

“Yes, as the lord instructed, we have hosted him in the finest inn and treated him with utmost care.”

“Your word alone is hardly enough to trust.”

Karel, with an indifferent expression, paid little attention to the exchange between the elderly village chief and the third son of the lord.

“By the way, will she be coming today?”

Randolph’s golden eyes glimmered like a snake’s as he subtly questioned the village chief. The chief, who had long sought favor with the third son—who was cherished by the Lord—immediately understood his meaning.

“Of course. She’ll be among the girls helping with today’s banquet.”

The chief’s ingratiating reply brought a pleased smile to Randolph’s face.

“When will she come of age?”

“Well, either this year or next, but I know she hasn’t yet.”

“Well, if she’s close to coming of age, her appearance must already be that of a grown woman.”

“But the innkeeper, who acts as her guardian, is rather strict.”

“Do you know how many months I’ve waited in solitude, trusting your word? Even my children are acting up, perhaps missing their mother’s presence.”

“Oh, the child is so obedient and well-mannered; they will surely be devoted to you and caring toward your children. You’ll see her soon.”

As Karel idly listened to the back-and-forth between Randolph and the chief, a faint smile crossed his lips. Waiting for a girl who wasn’t even of age to remarry, lamenting a few months of solitude… Nobles were rarely ones to restrain their desires.

‘…Not that I’m one to talk.’

After all, he had inherited the blood of his noble father, which had led him to commit that disgraceful act. Reflecting on this, Karel surveyed the banquet hall with a somber expression.

The interior was lavishly decorated. Ever since the expedition’s visit had been announced, the village chief’s banquet hall—rarely used—had been polished and prepared to create a space that even the servants from the Lord’s castle accompanying Randolph found satisfactory.

The tablecloths, embroidered with gold thread and clearly of high quality, were laid over tables filled with a feast prepared by every woman in the village. Judging by the abundance of fine meat and spices, the Lord’s castle must have provided a considerable budget, allowing the entire village to join in a festive mood. For Oedel, a land so barren that even during harvest festivals such extravagance was unthinkable, this was a rare sight.

Moreover, the head table, where Karel, the chief, and the Lord’s third son were seated, was adorned with silverware.

Despite all the splendor, Karel’s face remained clouded as he looked upon it all. To him, it felt no different from a funeral altar. This sentiment was shared by the entire expedition.

By tomorrow, once they secured carts and mules to transport their supplies to the entrance of the Gray Mountains, all preparations for departure would be complete.

‘Then, the day after tomorrow…’

They could delay no longer.

Excuses like resupply and other necessities had gradually postponed their departure until now. In the meantime, winter had fully set in, with the roads freezing over in the mornings and evenings. Any further delay would mean risking death—not from magical beasts in the Gray Mountains, but from slipping on icy paths.

Thus, this banquet might well be their last meal. A lively and luxurious banquet like this would be even rarer still…

Everyone shared this sentiment. The knights of the expedition seated at the long table extending from Karel’s side were weighed down by a sense of grim resignation. Whether their participation was motivated by money or pride, none could remain unaffected by the gravity of the situation.

“Now, now! We’ve brought beer from our tavern as well! If you grow tired of the wine gifted by the Lord, feel free to enjoy it!” 

At that moment, Selma, the innkeeper of the inn where they were staying, approached with a cheerful expression. Following her were errand boys, each carrying several beer mugs in both hands. Since the servants of the chief’s household couldn’t handle the large number of attendees, the errand boys from Selmane, familiar with the expedition, had been brought in to assist with the banquet.

“Oh, how could anyone tire of wine?”

“Even if we do, it’s been so long since we’ve had fine wine like this. We can’t cleanse our palates with the old ale from your place.”

“What do you mean, old? This Selma is far from turning fifty!”

At last, the knights, pretending to laugh, began gulping down the wine provided by the Lord’s castle.

Perhaps it was because they thought this might be their last drink, but they drank with abandon. Yet the somber mood that weighed on them prevented the table from becoming truly lively.

In contrast, the area outside the banquet hall, where the villagers were gathered, was bustling with noise. Against the backdrop of lanterns that lit the hall as bright as day, and the villagers’ boisterous laughter, a hushed conversation reached Karel’s ears.

“There, that’s her.”

“…The one with the messy hair?”

Randolph’s lowered voice carried a hint of disbelief.

“Well, if she walked around showing her pretty face, wouldn’t unnecessary hands have reached for her?”

“Oh, so she’s a beauty unknown to the common rabble?”

“Exactly, Your Lordship.”

As the chief replied slyly, Randolph stroked his elaborately groomed beard. His golden eyes moved busily, as if assessing the woman’s jawline and figure.

It was inevitable that this conversation would reach the expedition’s table, where silence had long since fallen. All eyes followed Randolph’s gaze toward the woman serving the lower-ranking knights.

Wait, that errand girl…

The captainr’s… that…?

The knights, feigning ignorance, subtly glanced at Karel’s face. There was no way he hadn’t heard their lewd whispers. Yet his profile remained stoic, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the lanterns that shone brighter than any other night in Oedel.

“Selma! Come over here!”

At that moment, the chief’s voice called for Selma. She quickly ran over, leaving the errand boys she was overseeing.

After exchanging a few words with the chief, Selma called for the woman. The red curve of her lips, which had been smiling warmly at the chief and Randolph, dropped the moment she turned away from them—a stark and unsettling change in expression.

Whatever had been said, the woman, bowing repeatedly until her messy bangs swayed, was soon tasked with serving the head table. She diligently poured wine into empty goblets, served the finest cuts of turkey and beef stuffed in bread, and carefully placed the best portions of freshly prepared dishes onto each plate. Though handling such delicate tasks was unfamiliar to the errand girl, she performed them earnestly, albeit with a tense expression.

Throughout it all, Randolph’s gaze lingered on her.

His golden eyes roamed over her jawline, her hands, the nape of her neck revealed beneath the headscarf tucked tightly over her hair, and even the neckline of her chemise. Each time she bowed, his eyes narrowed, as if calculating her figure beneath the laced apron and layered skirts.

The intent behind his gaze was unmistakable, and the knights of the expedition, who had been glancing at him, grew uneasy. They cast worried looks at Karel, seated right next to him. However, Karel remained silent, his expression unreadable as he quietly sipped from the pewter goblet filled with wine.

Unaware of this, the woman swallowed her excitement at being so close to him, even sneaking glances at his face.

‘So this is the third son of the Lord the chief always talks about…’

In truth, the woman was fully aware of the situation. For years, the chief had joked, “I’ll make you the Lord’s daughter-in-law,” but now she realized it had never been a joke. All she could do was try not to offend anyone. After all, no matter what happened, her future would never be hers to decide.

If she were to marry, it would be for someone else’s convenience, not her own.

Still, she couldn’t help but compare him to the man she had connected with more deeply than anyone else. The man she had first fallen for, the one she still loved, and the one with whom she had first shared intimacy.

‘I hope this is just idle talk…’

The Lord’s third son was infamous throughout the Eldorff Territory—and not in a good way. The first thing she had ever heard about him as a child was that he had already outlived two wives. Since then, another wife had passed, and while people expressed their condolences, the sympathy was for the wives who had died at his hands, not for him.

However, the woman couldn’t grasp such nuances. By the time she was old enough to understand the veiled words of adults, the villagers had already realized what the chief was scheming. As a result, they avoided mentioning the Lord’s third son in  her presence.