Chapter 22

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: 22

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Fortunately, no disastrous encounter with Saskia occurred until they reached the Knight Order building.

Iona, who had safely entered the stable, locked the latch at the entrance and let out a sigh of relief. She felt like she had finally gotten a moment to catch her breath.

But Iona's assumption proved to be mistaken soon enough.

There was already someone waiting inside.

"Knight Iona?"

Even though her back was turned, she could tell who it was just from the voice.

Knight Erich Ritter.

The second son of the Ritter Count family, he was a colleague Iona had known for quite some time.

He was even in the same First Division as her and had guarded the Emperor's retreat alongside her on the day she died.

Running into a comrade in such an unexpected place stirred an odd feeling in her. Even if they weren't particularly close.

"Serves you right, Knight Iona. So that's the reward for all that excessive loyalty—just ending up discarded once you're no longer useful."

The glare he had shot her upon hearing the Emperor's order to guard the retreat had been so intense.

If only he hadn't died right then and there, it might have left quite an impression as a memorable incident.

I wonder if Knight Erich survived unscathed back then?

The odds of that were low. Especially since he'd been right in the thick of battle like her—escape would have been difficult.

As Iona fell silent, gauging Erich's last known position,

the man grimaced upon confirming her face and rose from his seat.

"Looks like you got yourself beaten again somewhere."

To spot the signs of violence from that distance—it was the keen eyesight of a talented warrior.

"Who was it this time? Not Nils, since he already had his go not long ago. Lady Florence, who you said entered the palace today?"

"Oh..."

Iona let out an involuntary gasp of admiration. His knack for pinpointing the culprit was downright uncanny.

At her dumbfounded reaction, Erich openly scowled.

"Thanks to you nobly taking those hits to prove your loyalty to the Crown Prince, the rest of us knights are going to catch hell too. His Highness's own close aide volunteering as a punching bag for stress relief and all."

With that, Erich slowly approached Iona.

He looked down at her with eyes as cold as ice and said,

"Then again, it probably wasn't much of a blow to your pride. You're the type who decided to marry a man you'd never even met on the Crown Prince's word alone—what's a slap compared to that?"

"......"

"You're something else, really. Truly. No one could grovel that pathetically."

The familiar sarcasm nearly made Iona burst out laughing.

She barely managed to keep her lips from twitching, but he seemed to notice the twisted expression anyway.

Erich's face hardened as he growled low,

"You're no knight. Just a mongrel dog barking on command from its master."

She had just gone and proven she wasn't the Crown Prince's dog, only to get called a mongrel again.

Even Iona, accustomed to all sorts of insults, felt the need to refute this particular slur.

Iona replied confidently,

"I'm not."

"......What?"

"Not a mongrel."

"......"

"I hear you have a foul mouth, Knight Erich. I'm your superior, you know."

With that pointed remark, Iona gave his shoulder a firm shove as she passed by. It must have hurt, but Erich just stood there, staring blankly at her retreating form.

He had always ignored his barbs as worthless before, but this was the first time she'd properly clapped back.

Just then, Saskia and Theobald's voices echoed from afar.

"What? Iona chased Lady Florence out of the palace? No way—this is too good! Let's go right now!"

"Commander! Please, watch your mouth!"

The sound of footsteps pounding down the corridor followed.

Iona held her breath, waiting silently for them to pass by far enough.

It seemed Saskia had only just heard the news from Miss Ridge.

Good thing she'd made it to the Knight Order building a step ahead.

With some breathing room now secured, Iona leisurely went to secure the stirrups on her horse. Erich, who had been keeping his distance, muttered in bewilderment,

"What the......"

He rubbed at his mouth, then suddenly snapped his head up.

Rushing to the entrance, he poked his head out and shouted,

"Commander! Wait a......"

Instinctively, Iona lunged forward and clamped a hand over his mouth.

She succeeded in dragging him back inside, but his strength was no joke either, so they both ended up tumbling to the ground.

Even sprawled on the floor, the struggle continued.

Iona barely managed to pin the thrashing Erich by wrapping her arm around his neck.

She whispered in his ear,

"Stay quiet, and I'll let you go."

His ears were flushed bright red—he was clearly fuming.

Eventually, Erich nodded slowly.

Iona eyed him suspiciously before removing her hand from his mouth.

She hadn't released the arm around his neck yet, so he behaved more meekly than expected.

In a voice laced with faint irritation, Iona asked,

"Why were you trying to call the commander?"

"......To confirm the facts."

"You could've just asked me."

A long silence stretched out.

She wondered why he'd suddenly clammed up, but sitting side by side with their bodies overlapping, she couldn't see his face.

As Iona was about to press for an answer, Erich asked in disbelief,

"Did you really chase Lady Florence out?"

"Yeah."

"On what grounds?"

"Assaulting an Imperial Knight on duty is a serious crime."

"Hah, so you were aware of that basic fact."

Muttering that, Erich hung his head. Seeing no signs of further outburst, Iona fully released him.

Even so, he stayed slumped on the floor, as if he'd lost all will to argue.

For once, the burly man looked almost childlike.

Iona fixed her gaze on his broad back, pondering what to say.

Not to scold him for his rash misunderstanding. His insolence toward her wasn't a one- or two-day thing, after all.

His rough speech and actions had made her think he harbored ill will—and to some extent, he probably did.

But in the end, it was worry.

"Don't die pointlessly in a dump like this."

......If such words could even be called a form of concern.

At any rate, he didn't hate her enough to wish death upon her.

It stood in stark contrast to his lord, who had cherished her yet ultimately chosen to let her go.

When the order came to remain in the rear guard, it had been Erich who objected in her stead, seeing her frozen resolve.

"Are you kidding me right now? With enemies swarming like this, no retreat? What's that if not telling us to die like dogs guarding the back?"

"Kh, kkh! Kn-Knight Erich. Defiance is...... treason!"

Iona had held back Erich from grabbing the messenger by the collar. To her, her lord's command held value above her own life.

But had that been the right call? Even if she herself didn't regret it, was it truly just to leave her subordinates—who followed her—to that fate?

If I'd defied that order, many more could have lived.

She had no regrets over her own death. She had died upholding her convictions, after all.

But if that choice led to so many sacrifices, she bore responsibility as their superior.

That's why Erich's blame for her blind loyalty didn't anger her.

How could she begrudge a subordinate who had nearly died because of it from calling her a mongrel once?

Iona said in a gentler tone,

"Thank you for worrying, Erich Ritter. I'd be pissed too if my juniors came back with slapped cheeks."

At her words, Erich whipped around to face her. His face flushed, he yelled,

"Who said I was worried about you? Hah! Don't make me laugh. Of course I'd be mad, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't protest."

Since there was truth to his words, Iona just shrugged.

Right now, she brimmed with the will to protest for her subordinates' sake, but with retirement right around the corner, such self-justification felt embarrassing.

As Iona silently brushed herself off and stood, Erich's eyes narrowed suspiciously again.

"Where are you going?"