Chapter 84

Chapter 84: Chapter 84

There were many different ways to feel upon waking.

Sometimes one awoke from a frightening dream and felt relieved. Sometimes a disturbing nightmare left one in a foul mood. And sometimes one awoke from a pleasant dream and desperately tried to fall asleep again, even though sleep would not return.

But perhaps the best awakening of all was opening one’s eyes naturally after a deep, dreamless sleep, without the slightest trace of exhaustion.

That was how Rickart awoke.

The sound of birdsong tickled his ears. The bed beneath him was extraordinarily comfortable, and there was a familiar scent in the air.

It almost felt as though he had returned home.

Home?

Wait a moment.

The first thing Rickart saw when he opened his eyes was the wall. When he turned his head, he found himself staring at a familiar ceiling.

There was no chandelier or anything of the sort, but the way the stones fitted together and the shape of the ceiling supports were unmistakably familiar.

This was neither an inn nor the Ernberg branch building. Nor was it his residence in the Imperial Palace at Nibelungen.

It was his room in Stormherz.

What?

Rickart sat up.

The room looked somewhat empty because his belongings were gone, but there could be no doubt that it was his room.

Am I dreaming now?

He quickly realized that this was not a dream.

Marie was asleep right beside him.

She lay on her side, pressed close to him with her hands clasped together, breathing softly like a baby.

Her nightclothes were somewhat translucent, so Rickart squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away.

His mind threatened to fill with wicked thoughts, but then his final memories came rushing back, immediately diverting his attention.

After winning the final match, Rickart had been so dizzy that he had barely understood what was happening.

He thought he had heard screams, but his memories ended there.

Judging from the circumstances, Marie must have brought him to Stormherz after he lost consciousness.

The Emperor possessed directly governed territory along with several surrounding satellite domains. Because of this, Nibelungen and Stormherz were simultaneously close and far from one another.

House Kaldevern had been founded during the reign of Martellus II, the sixth Emperor, when Kaldevert distinguished himself in battle and received a domain as his reward.

The Emperor could not grant land that did not exist, so naturally, he had separated a portion of his own territory and bestowed it upon Kaldevert.

In other words, the County of Kaldevern was one of the imperial family’s satellite domains. It was both close to and distant from the imperial capital.

Marie had covered a considerable distance in the carriage. On foot, the journey would have taken four days.

Rickart’s family had later inherited a divided portion of the Kaldevern estate and established itself in Stormherz, at one edge of the territory.

Their house was Kaldevern, while their hometown and ancestral seat was Stormherz.

They belonged to the same family as the count’s household. Moreover, the eldest son, Graut, had married the count’s daughter. Thus, although they appeared to be two separate households, they were essentially one family.

They had even sworn a pact that if one branch’s bloodline ended, the other would continue the house.

Naturally, the count’s household was the senior branch, but the relationship between the two was not one of lord and vassal. Nevertheless, unless there was a compelling reason to object, Rickart’s family generally followed the count’s decisions.

It was complicated, but from an outsider’s perspective, they resembled a count’s household and its vassal barony.

When one examined the arrangement more closely, however, they were simply members of the same family.

In any case, the important point was that Marie had unwittingly fled toward territory belonging to House Kaldevern and encountered Abelich while he was patrolling the borders of his domain.

It was as though God had bestowed a gift upon them—a miracle.

Marie had not deliberately come here, but Rickart mistakenly believed she had made a wise decision.

It was a fortunate misunderstanding.

Rickart composed his aroused lower body, rose from the bed, and opened the wooden-shuttered window, securing it with a support.

Fresh morning sunlight streamed into the room, and the familiar land of his hometown unfolded before him.

White smoke that somehow looked delicious rose from the chimneys of the houses.

The harvest had only just ended, and he could see the residents already busy threshing grain despite the early hour.

The cool autumn morning air brushed against his skin.

Rickart unconsciously drew a deep breath, only for it to catch halfway.

A pain like a needle piercing his chest stabbed through him.

"Ugh!"

Marie curled up as though she were cold, so Rickart closed the window again and tucked the blanket securely around her.

At that moment, someone opened the door and entered.

It was his sister-in-law, Aileen.

"Oh, my. I’m sorry."

"What? Oh, no! It isn’t what you think."

Click.

Rickart clutched his chest and frowned.

It seemed to be an aftereffect of the poison.

He carefully tried taking another deep breath. Breathing normally caused no problem, but inhaling deeply produced pain.

It truly had been a vicious poison, as vicious as the grudge behind it.

Still, Rickart did not despair.

He was fortunate simply to be alive. There was nothing he could do about it at the moment, so he put it out of his mind.

His sister-in-law had closed the door before he could greet her properly or explain the situation.

Rickart considered chasing after her and insisting that she had misunderstood, but then decided against it.

He no longer cared what anyone assumed.

Even so, it was awkward.

He had returned home after so long, and this was what happened.

His father had probably left early that morning to patrol the domain. His eldest brother also seemed to have gone out to inspect the territory.

Rickart suddenly wondered how his second brother, Vilter, was doing. But Vilter was practically at the end of the world, making news difficult to obtain.

All Rickart could do was pray that he was well.

It had been three years since Rickart left home.

Now he had returned.

Because of that, even the empty room looked different to him.

It seemed to revive the precious memories of his childhood.

Nothing has changed here.

The thought gave him a sense of security.

Rickart was neither reading a book nor occupying himself with any other task. Yet simply looking around the room and remembering the past kept him from growing bored.

At times, he smiled for no particular reason. Then he found himself missing his mother, worrying about Vilter, and wondering how much his nephew had grown.

He also thought of Butch and the other people of the territory.

"Thinking about the old days?"

Rickart had not noticed Marie waking.

She remained beneath the covers, with the blanket pulled up to her chin.

"Huh? Oh, yeah."

"Your father seems like a good man."

"He probably didn’t say much. Did you meet my brother and sister-in-law?"

"I saw them briefly. We couldn’t talk for long."

"Really? Hmm... Would you like me to show you around the territory?"

"Yes."

Rickart filled a basin with water, washed himself, and put on the neatly folded clean clothes that had been prepared for him.

They seemed to belong to his brother.

They fitted him perfectly.

His meteoric-iron sword had been broken, leaving him with only his dagger—just as when he had first departed from this place.

Even though the meteoric-iron sword had broken, its materials were so valuable that he could have taken the pieces to a smith or at least sold them for a considerable sum.

It was unfortunate, but he did not dwell on it.

Marie wore a practical blue dress. It appeared to belong to his sister-in-law, but because Marie was tall, it was somewhat short on her.

The hem should have reached her calves, but it ended above her knees.

It did not matter that the dress fitted imperfectly. This was not a city, so no one cared about fashion.

Marie twisted her long hair up and tied it into place. Once she had finished preparing herself, Rickart started to leave the room with her.

Before he could, Marie called to him.

"Wait."

When Rickart turned around, Marie tugged on his clothes and kissed him.

There was no longer anything embarrassing about it. A kiss like this now felt natural.

They looked into each other’s starry eyes and smiled.

Then they opened the door and left the room.

The manor was not particularly large, so its corridors were short. They went directly to his brother and sister-in-law’s room to greet Aileen properly.

His sister-in-law was sewing, while his nephew fidgeted beside her in girls’ clothing.

Dressing young boys in girls’ clothes was both a tradition and a superstition. People believed it would prevent childhood illnesses and allow the child to live a long life.

Naturally, Rickart had worn girls’ clothing as well, until he was five.

Until the age of ten, children could wear either boys’ or girls’ clothing without much concern. From the age of ten onward, a boy wore only male clothing, was expected to behave like a man, and had to fulfill the responsibilities of one.

Rickart had admirably fulfilled the role of one man—no, far more than one.

"Sister-in-law, I’m going to show Marie around the territory."

"What? You’re finished already?"

"Pardon? Finished with what? No!"

His sister-in-law smiled as though she understood everything.

He had told her it was not like that.

"Say hello. This is your second uncle."

His three-year-old nephew hid beside his mother, showing only half his face as he quickly bowed his head.

He seemed shy rather than frightened.

"You should greet him properly."

"H-Hewwo. My name ish Fritsrit."

His nephew’s name was Fritsrit. He had only recently begun speaking, so his pronunciation was not yet perfect.

"Hello. You can call me Uncle Ricky."

"I’m Marie. I’m going to be your aunt."

Marie boldly introduced herself.

What she said was not incorrect. She had been promised in marriage to the winner of the swordsmanship tournament, and Rickart had won.

The family had also received a brief explanation of what had happened the previous day, so they already knew about Marie.

Rickart was the only one who felt awkward.

"Are you feeling better?" his sister-in-law asked.

Rickart did not mention the problem with his lungs because he did not want to worry her.

"Yes. You don’t need to worry."

"What about breakfast? We should at least provide a proper meal for my future sister-in-law."

"Hahaha..."

"I’m fine. Ricky will feed me somehow."

"Oh, how scandalous."

"What? S-Scandalous?"

"I was joking. Young Master Ricky has always been good at finding something to eat wherever he goes, ever since he was a child."

His sister-in-law apparently wanted to continue teasing him.

They had not been this close in the past, but perhaps now that Rickart had grown so much, she felt comfortable speaking freely around him.

So she was always this playful.

Perhaps she had wanted to treat Vilter and Rickart like friends once they grew older.

They had simply been too young back then.

"Father and my husband will return around evening. You remember, don’t you?"

No matter what happened, every member of the family was expected to eat dinner together.

"Of course. We’ll return by dinnertime."

Rickart took Marie’s hand and left his brother and sister-in-law’s room.

There was nothing worth seeing in the defensive tower attached to the manor, so he headed directly into the courtyard.

Several village women were walking around carrying various items.

Because Stormherz was a rural domain, the household did not employ separate servants or workers. Instead, women from the village came to help with miscellaneous chores.

When there were not enough hands, even the lady of the manor had to help clear away animal dung or carry supplies.

That was the kind of place Stormherz was.

"Young master!"

"Hello."

"My goodness, you’ve grown so tall! Your young lady is beautiful too."

No one disliked being called beautiful.

A radiant smile blossomed across Marie’s face.

"You’re beautiful too, ma’am."

"Hohoho! You’re quite skilled at empty flattery."

"Do you have anything to eat?" Rickart asked.

"You’re not going to have a proper meal? You still wander around picking up food wherever you go. We have fresh butter. The bread was baked recently too, so it shouldn’t be hard."

"I don’t eat just anything I find. We’ll be going now."

Rickart spoke with a smile.

When they entered the food storehouse, they found freshly delivered butter and bread.

Rickart sliced a large loaf with his dagger, gave some to Marie, and spread a generous amount of butter over it.

Then they each took an apple and left the courtyard.

They wandered around the territory while chewing their food.

The houses were scattered far apart, and the recently harvested fields looked like closely shaven heads.

There was a great deal of work to do during autumn, so everyone appeared busy.

Still, they seemed happy.

For the moment, food was plentiful.

"I’m jealous," Marie said as they walked.

"Hmm? Of what?"

"Everyone likes you."

"When I was little, everyone called me ’gentle Young Master Ricky.’ I suppose I listened well. I didn’t throw tantrums, cry, or cause trouble."

"Really? You were different from how you are now."

"Why? What am I like now?"

"You’re incredibly stubborn."

"So are you. But we suit each other."

"That’s true."

It was strange that two stubborn people could get along so well.

Then again, neither of them was blindly obstinate. They were normally gentle, but once they made an important decision, nothing could make them yield.

"There’s a place in that hunting ground where I used to play as a child. Let’s go see it."

"Okay."

Rickart and Marie crossed a field filled with autumn flowers and entered the forest.

Before long, they reached a small stream.

Rickart had built a hideout here as a child and played with the older boys from the village.

The hideout was still there.

Because it was harvest season and the village children were helping with the work, none of them were around.

A crude but charming little hut stood between two large trees.

Now, Rickart would have to curl his entire body merely to squeeze inside.

"I suppose children still play like this."

As he spoke, a contented smile spread across his face.

"When I played here until sunset, my eldest brother would carry me home on his shoulders. We would watch the sun set across the fields."

The memories of those days appeared vividly before him.

His second brother, Vilter, would also beg to be carried. Whenever their eldest brother refused and said Vilter was too heavy, Vilter would sulk.

Later, Vilter would offer to carry Rickart himself, only to find Rickart too heavy and fail to stand.

Rickart felt warmth in his heart, yet also a trace of sorrow.

It was nostalgia and longing.

Even though he had returned home, those days would never return.

"Let’s go over there."

"Okay."

Marie followed wherever Rickart led, walking through the memories of his childhood.

Rickart had rarely spoken about his hometown or family, so even these ordinary sights felt special to her.

She had grown up in a family environment that was not merely bleak, but heartless and cruel, making this place seem even more extraordinary.

There was a reason her greatest wish had simply been to become free.

Marie sincerely envied Rickart, but she also found herself newly drawn to him.

By experiencing even an indirect glimpse of his happy childhood, she felt certain that they could build a happy life together.

They could have children, raise them, grow old together—and perhaps even death would be happy if they faced it together.

Rickart and Marie continued wandering around Stormherz.

When they became tired, they sat and rested. When they grew hungry, someone gave them soup or stew. They also happily greeted people Rickart had not seen in years.

Everyone smiled brightly upon seeing him.

They showed no fear or discomfort toward him as a noble. Instead, they seemed to regard him as their own child or younger brother.

To Marie, it was strange and dreamlike.

Rural communities were naturally insular and possessed a strong sense of solidarity.

When that developed negatively, the community could stagnate and rot like standing water. In Stormherz’s case, however, it had created remarkably strong bonds and unity.

Because the territory was so isolated, its people had only heard scattered stories of Rickart’s tremendous fame in the outside world.

Their reaction amounted to little more than, "It sounds like he’s doing well."

What mattered to these people was continuing to live according to their own way of life.

Rickart preferred it that way.

He liked that they treated him exactly as they always had.

The people of Stormherz hoped never to worry about their next meal. When someone struggled, they helped as though the problem were their own. When war came, they answered the call and fulfilled their duties.

They were humble but steadfast people.

Perhaps these qualities had greatly influenced Rickart’s character.

In his previous life, he had wandered aimlessly in pursuit of death while struggling merely to keep himself alive.

Before long, the sun began to set.

On the way home, Rickart suddenly crouched down, patted his shoulders, and spoke to Marie.

"Climb on."

Marie let out an incredulous laugh, but thought it looked fun.

She did not refuse and climbed onto Rickart’s shoulders.

Rickart rose effortlessly, as though he could not feel her weight at all.

"Eek! Warn me before you stand up!"

Marie nearly lost her balance but steadied herself by grabbing Rickart’s head.

Laughing, Rickart carried her back toward the manor.

The sunset spread across the autumn fields.

It had been a perfect day.