Under the Oak Tree Novel - Chapter 224

Chapter 224: Side Story Chapter 30

Riftan turned around, furiously swearing at himself. He intended to have a word with the Duke of Croyso about the exorbitant cost of dragging the conflict before discussions with the Dristanian messengers began in earnest.

However, the duke flatly refused to grant him an audience, giving the excuse that he was too busy. Riftan’s face hardened at the slight. Even as a duke, the man had no right to snub a vassal of the king. He considered expressing his displeasure before deciding against it, not wanting to cause a commotion.

The duke continued to put off the meeting with the messengers, citing his busy schedule of touring the duchy. It was not until the third day of their arrival at Croyso Castle that they finally managed to stand before him.

Naturally, the messengers did not hide their indignation. They took on an imperious attitude, while the duke stoked their ire further by arguing that Dristan’s demands violated his rights as a feudal lord. He went on to reveal he intended to seek reparation for the current conflict, to which the messengers grew incensed. It seemed any chance of a successful negotiation was going down in flames.

Riftan recorded every detail in his report to the commander. The negotiations, which had been expected to conclude within a few days, stretched well over a week. As he sent the messenger bird flying into the bluish dawn, Riftan felt distinctly tired of it all. He doubted the duke had any intention of accepting Dristan’s terms. If worse came to worst, the conflict could escalate into an all-out war.

A future battle would be fierce. If Dristan’s royal army were to get involved, Wedon would also send additional troops. Riftan would be unable to return to Anatol for at least a year.

Or I might never be able to return again.

A wry smile twisted his lips as he descended the castle wall. One mistake on the battlefield could cost a man his head. Countless times, he had witnessed formidable men meet a sudden demise in battle. He did not think for a second he was the most skilled warrior in the world. Just as he had stolen the lives of so many, he was acutely aware that his own could be taken at any moment.

Deciding to send a message to Anatol just in case, Riftan cut across the forest path faintly illuminated by the dawn light. He halted when he spotted a woman running up ahead. Judging by the long skirt dragging in the dirt, she was no maidservant. What was a noblewoman doing in the forest at this hour?

…..
As he carefully watched from a distance, the figure turned around, a curtain of red hair spilling over her black robes. Riftan froze. It could only be Maximilian Croyso.

There was no one else who had quite the same shade of red. Her luscious auburn curls, almost amethyst in the dark, turned into flames streaked with gold under the sun. His heart began pounding against his ribs. This was their first encounter since his arrival at Croyso Castle, and he was torn between wanting to talk to her and wanting to avoid her.

His indecision did not last long. Letting out a low groan, he sprung into action. Though they were still within castle grounds, he could not leave while she roamed the eerie forest alone. Not after she had been gravely injured here once before.

Recalling her stiffening, cold body as the monster’s venom coursed through her, he felt a faint anger rise in his chest. Had she not learned a thing? Determined to give her a good talking to, he strode after her with his jaw clenched.

He had almost caught up when she abruptly stopped and looked around. Riftan narrowed his eyes. It did not seem like she had noticed him lurking in the shade. She pulled something from her pocket and began to read aloud.

What the hell is she doing?

Riftan furrowed his brows as he listened to her trembling voice. The faint sound mingled with the rustling autumn leaves, birdcalls, and branches waving in the wind.

Though she spoke too softly for him to be able to pick out each word, it sounded like a poem. Baffled, Riftan stood listening to her from the shadows as she repeated the same verse multiple times. There was frustration in her voice. A second later, it dawned on him that he was witnessing something not meant to be seen. She had a speech impediment.

Riftan stroked his mouth with a shaking hand. Although he had heard Maximilian’s stuttering on numerous occasions, he had attributed it to her melancholy or nerves. Agitated, he began to pace like a caged beast. Moving on would be the proper thing, but he could not bring himself to leave her alone in the forest.

Caught by indecision, he continued to pace when his shoulders tensed at a cracking sound. He had inadvertently stepped on a dry branch. Maximilian, who at that point had been stumbling over the same word as if her tongue were paralyzed, snapped her head in the direction of the sound. Her eyes widened in horror.

Overcome with dismay, Riftan’s face fell. Though she was at a distance, he saw her face blanch before flushing crimson. Her shoulders stiffened in the humiliation, and Riftan recognized shattered pride in the way she glanced about.

Riftan scrambled to say something but could not think of the right words. Backing away from him, Maximilian’s mouth flapped open and closed.

“I-I…”

Her shame had been laid bare. Riftan glimpsed her distraught face before she whirled around and sprinted toward the castle. He fought the urge to chase after her. Having one’s weakness discovered by another was something he understood better than anyone.

After staring down the forest path she had used to flee, Riftan cursed and turned away. He would have another chance to apologize for spying. For now, the best thing was to give her time to compose herself. With that thought in mind, Riftan listlessly started toward the guest wing.

To his dismay, he failed to catch even a glimpse of Maximilian for the remainder of the negotiations. Though he took every opportunity to loiter about the annex in the hopes of running into her, he ultimately had to depart for the border without being able to make amends.

He felt terrible. Not only did the negotiations yield nothing, but he had left the worst possible impression of himself on Maximilian Croyso. It was in this wretched mood that he greeted Paxias.

Despite the rising tensions of looming war, he could not erase the girl’s wounded expression from his mind. How was it that her pain seemed to be the only thing that could affect him so profoundly? There were far more harrowing things in the world, and yet, the urge to comfort her was all-consuming.

If he could, he would lay a reassuring hand on her small back and tell her that a speech impediment was nothing more than a minor flaw. He would gladly hand over sacks of gold just to hear her speak.

Riftan scoffed at his foolish thoughts. From the way her face had crumpled in mortification, it was clear that behind Maximilian’s delicate appearance was a strong sense of pride. She might even be affronted if someone as lowly as himself were to offer words of comfort.

His attempt at driving her from his mind by mocking himself paid off as the vain, pubescent-boy fantasy faded away. Once the cold snap arrived, beleaguered raiders swarmed the border en masse, sparking off a large-scale battle. All useless thoughts disappeared as the brutal skirmishes began.

Their enemy proved to be shrewd. They used hit-and-retreat tactics, quickly draining Wedon’s army of men and resources. Even though the knights wanted to pursue the retreating enemy down to the last man, they were unable to give chase over the border for fear of provoking Dristan’s royal forces.

Threatened by the deteriorating situation, Wedon sent another party of messengers to persuade the duke. In just two months and fifteen days, Riftan found himself departing for Croyso Castle once more. This time, he was not merely escorting the messengers but going as an envoy of King Reuben himself.

Recalling his orders to persuade the duke to end the conflict, Riftan furrowed his brows. The liege he served had a knack for foisting tedious tasks onto his vassals.

All this could be solved so much faster if he personally intervened.

Heaving a disgruntled sigh, Riftan passed through the gates. Croyso Castle exuded a different air in midwinter. Battered by dry winds, the vast structure somehow felt eerie. A damp chill flowed out of the dense fir forest that surrounded it.

Riftan rode past the garden and was at the great hall before he knew it. He entrusted his horse to the servants and made his way inside, his face grim. The conflict was beginning to get to him. This time, he resolved to put an end to the meaningless dispute once and for all, even if it meant dragging the duke to the negotiation table. The nobleman’s pride had cost him dozens of his men.

“I come with a message from His Majesty,” Riftan coldly declared to the head steward, who rushed over to meet them.

The steward flinched as though taken aback by Riftan’s imposing air. He executed a respectful bow before showing the party to the reception room. Riftan led his group of knights up the stairs.

His eyes widened when he reached the landing. Standing quietly to one side of the corridor was Maximilian Croyso, surrounded by her maidservants. He felt his head spin as though he had been ambushed.

“What a beauty.”

Riftan looked toward the unexpected voice. Gabel Lachzion was staring at Maximilian in awe. Immediately tensing, Riftan found himself glaring at the young knight.

“I did hear the duke’s youngest was stunning,” Gabel said, oblivious to Riftan’s displeasure, “but I must say, I’m still surprised. No doubt she will be considered the Western Continent’s greatest beauty in a few years.”

After a moment spent blinking at Gabel’s comment, Riftan looked back at Maximilian. Only then did he realize his comrade was gawking at the flaxen-haired girl next to her. As though sculpted from ice, the young woman exuded a chilly air. Riftan found it baffling how a person could have eyes for anyone else in the presence of Maximilian Croyso.