Chapter Ten

Croft marched into the dining room with Livia in his arms and carefully lowered her onto the chair.

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

It was a mere formality, but Croft paused as he straightened to stand.

“It’s nothing,” he replied curtly before sitting across from her.

The two of them began their meal. Dining at the Eastern Frontier meant either eating alone or chatting loudly with others. But here with Livia, a calm and quiet meal didn’t seem out of place.

When they finished their meal, he asked Livia, “Shall we have tea? It seems like your foot still hurts.”

The corners of her mouth turned up slightly. Look at him. He’s not a total mess. He understands and follows what I teach. This is why education is important. “The weather is very pleasant today, Your Majesty. How about we have tea in the garden?”

It was the first time Livia had replied to him positively with a soft smile, and Croft didn’t understand why, but it felt good. He moved a bit closer. “My lady? May I?”

He waited for her reply.

She lifted the corners of her mouth even more, marveling at the results of her teaching. “Yes, Your Highness, you may.”

She stretched her arms toward him, and he lifted her and carried her to the garden.

He had once believed that etiquette was bothersome, but it wasn’t as difficult as he’d initially thought. She’d told him to ask permission before touching her body. Seeing how calm she was in his arms—unlike yesterday, when she’d pulled his hair out in the exact same situation—he felt that this simple sentence was like a magic spell. The customs here are too complicated.

He lowered Livia onto the chair next to the garden table.

Georgette served them tea and stepped back to glower at Croft from afar.

While trying to ignore the maid’s stare, Livia watched Croft. Once again, she found herself bewildered by the way he gulped his tea. Was he that thirsty? She signaled Georgette to bring more tea.

“Try to drink it slowly and enjoy its fragrance,” she said when the tea was ready.

“Is drinking tea slowly also a custom here?” Croft asked.

“Yes, it is. It is also tastier if you take your time drinking it.”

To Croft, there was only one purpose for drinking: hydration. But at Livia’s bright smile, his hand instinctively reached for the teacup. This is strange. Is she casting a spell on me? He took a small sip of tea. It had a pleasant, nutty aroma with a lovely sweetness to its aftertaste.

“It’s delicious,” he said.

“I’m glad that you like it.”

He finished the tea with pleasure.

As he took off the scabbard around his waist, he decided to return Livia’s favor. She watched with puzzled eyes as he approached. He turned the grip of his sword toward her and gestured for her to take hold.

She took the sword with a bewildered look.

“There is no better tool for strengthening your upper body,” he said. “People usually begin by swinging the sword, but your arm might break if we do that, so take it slowly.”

“My arm is not going to break from swinging a sword,” she said in a sulky voice.

He smiled and continued. “Stretch your arm. Try to form a single straight line with your arm and the sword. Then try raising and lowering the sword while keeping that line straight.”

As soon as Croft removed his hand from the sword, Livia gasped. She tried her best to hold the sword out in a straight line, but it fell to the ground as soon as he moved his hand away.

They looked silently at the sword, planted in the ground.

Croft grasped the sword again. Livia must have dropped it because she didn’t understand what he meant. He extended her arm with his sword again and repeated, “At the beginning, you should start by making the sword parallel to the ground. The slower you move your arm, the more effective this exercise will be.”

When he removed his hand, the tip of the sword fell immediately. The sword was perpendicular to the ground again.

Croft tilted his head and looked at Livia. Her face was turning red. “By any chance, were you using all your strength?”

Livia, who was actually trying her best, puffed out her cheeks.

Croft read her expression. “It would be easier if you use your core muscles.”

After failing the third time, she turned even redder. “Don’t lie to me,” she said.

I’m not lying. Croft couldn’t say it out loud.

She gave up. She lifted the sword with both hands and hurled it toward him. “What type of sword is that? Why is it so heavy?”

He’d never considered his sword to be heavy. Malik’s sword was three times heavier than his. I must admit that my sword is heavier than most. But even so, who would’ve thought she wouldn’t be able to lift it with one arm? He gave a hollow smile and sat opposite her again.

Livia was humiliated. She hadn’t expected to be unable to even hold a sword that Croft maneuvered as if it were a toy. I knew this body was frail, but I didn’t expect it to be this weak. It was so frustrating.

She sipped her tea with a coy expression.

Croft tried not to smile. “I will prepare a waster for you.”

Georgette, still watching from afar and chewing at the edge of her sleeve, was ready to explode in anger. In her eyes, the madman had taken out his brutal sword and harassed Livia with it. The rumors about Croft would spread so much now that his reputation would never be salvageable.

***

Croft escorted Livia back to her room. As he was about to leave, he turned back and said, “Oh, by the way, a comrade of mine will arrive today.”

“I’ll let the butler know,” she said. “How many are in the party?”

“Just one, and nothing special is needed, but you should inform the maids not to venture into the annex building.”

She frowned. “Is the person coming here so lecherous that he might harm the maids?”

“I wouldn’t say that. However, the maids might feel uncomfortable.”

“Doesn’t that mean the same? It will be a problem if an emperor’s knight misbehaves toward the maids.” What on earth could this person have gone through at the Eastern Frontier? She couldn’t let an immoral comrade cause trouble in the dukedom.

Studying Livia’s sharp cobalt-blue eyes, Croft scratched his jaw. “My comrade is not a man.”

“Are you saying the person is a woman?”

“Yes, she is. I don’t know what you mean by ‘misbehave.’ What she does is more menacing than anything else.”

“Pardon?”

He sighed. He hadn’t wanted his ally here, at least not until he ascended the throne. But Malik had gotten in touch and made a fuss over Livia, and there wasn’t much Croft could do to stop a visit now.

The great sorceress of the Eastern Frontier loved good-looking people and became obsessive when she fell for someone. Nothing could stop her. In fact, the reason she first decided to join forces with Croft was purely because he was handsome. Croft could manage to prevent her from attaching herself to Livia, but there were simply too many good-looking maids in the mansion.

“May I ask what she is like?” Livia asked carefully.

“She’s known as the Red Bird.” Croft carefully chose one of her most benign monikers. “She’s quite well known at the Eastern Frontier.”

The Red Bird hadn’t acquired her moniker based on the color of her hair. A couple of years ago, when Croft’s party was on a quest to stop a terrifying beast resembling a giant bird, Kinsel had set the beast entirely on fire. The beast was enveloped in flames, flying frantically in agonizing pain until it died. Kinsel had cackled the whole time.

Croft shook his head.

Livia tilted her head. The Red Bird, Croft’s comrade, a sorceress from the East. Was this the crazy Lady Kinsel? This character hadn’t appeared in the parts of the book Livia read. Wasn’t that the name of the sorceress Croft summoned from the Eastern Frontier when he was preparing the internal war with Persilot? If Croft is speaking about her like this, she’s probably quite demanding. Sorcerers are generally known to be fussy. She would tell the butler to treat Lady Kinsel with great care.

***

As Livia and Croft sat deep in thought in Livia’s room, the atmosphere in the eastern annex where Malik, Blake, and Chester stayed was dreary. Malik sat slumped in a corner where he’d retreated after Blake and Chester scolded him for inviting Kinsel. The other two men let out deep sighs.

Even the carefree Chester looked serious. ‘The Crazy Kinsel’ doesn’t do her justice, and her other monikers—the Witch from the East, the Ominous Kinsel, and Black Catastrophe—don’t even begin to describe her utter madness. Kinsel. She’s not supposed to exist in the world. She’s like a flaw of nature beyond any comprehension.

Compared to Kinsel’s nicknames, Croft’s nickname of the Mad Dog seemed affectionate and humane. Dogs could go mad—unfortunate, but it happened sometimes. Croft’s friends were well aware of his past, a history that could drive anyone mad.

But Kinsel was an entirely different case. She hadn’t gone mad; she’d been born like that. She was crazy all the time.

I can’t believe that infuriating, crazy woman is coming. She used to say she liked the Eastern Frontier because it was full of beasts, and she used to say she would like nothing more than to sleep for the whole year. This idiot Malik has ruined everything.

Blake and Chester stood up at the same time and began kicking Malik again.