They are not likely loafers than true knights. How did they even survived working under Evander? Is he even aware his knights are acting like this if he is not around?
Noticing our presence, the knights stopped and looked toward us. All were unfamiliar to me, I had never seen them before, neither during my visit to Evander for tea nor at the engagement ceremony. Their expressions mirrored their surprise upon seeing me, which was understandable.
"Allow me to apologize on their behalf, Your Ladyship," Butler Corran said politely. "They only arrived here from the North last night. I neglected to inform them of your arrival."
"From the North?" I asked curiously.
If I remember correctly, there are about eleven members in Evander's order. Besides them, this manor had knights guarding the gate and the estate.
"Those are the remaining knights of the young master's order," Butler Corran explained. "They were left in the North for a purpose. Honestly, I don't know why they have come here."
A sense of unease settled in me as I absorbed Butler Corran's words. The presence of these unfamiliar knights, recently arrived from the North, raised questions. I scanned their faces again, young, confident, but with a certain recklessness that made me doubt their discipline. I understand why Evander left them on the North.
Zilda stepped forward and stood by my side as one of the topless knights, still glistening with sweat from sparring, approached us.
"Sir Maro-" Butler Corran began.
He cut Corran off sharply. "Are you the future lady of our commander?" he asked rudely.
I bristled inwardly at his blunt and disrespectful tone, but I maintained my composure. Zilda glared at him sharply, her eyes narrowing with unmistakable warning. The air between them was charged with tension, and I could feel the weight of her silent challenge.
I came from a family of military personnel, my older brothers, father, and nearly all my paternal relatives. I had never seen them disrespect someone. I thought it was unthinkable. I believed everyone in that line of work was taught the same. Apparently, I was wrong.
"Sir Knight," Zilda said calmly, her voice firm but controlled, "I suggest you choose your words more carefully. Disrespect toward her Ladyship will not be tolerated." She stared him down.
Woah. My mother bird is so cool, it almost made my heart skip a beat.
The other knights made a fuss, laughing and sneering at the same time. I couldn't understand why they were acting like this. Why were they so hostile toward me when I never did anything… or did I?
Then without any sign, the Maro knight pointed a sword at Zilda's head. The room froze instantly, the laughter and sneers vanishing as the cold steel gleamed ominously inches from Zilda's temple. Time seemed to slow, every breath caught in my throat as all eyes fixed on the dangerous gesture.
Zilda remained unnervingly composed, her posture unyielding despite the threat. Her eyes locked with Maro's, a silent challenge burning between them. Butler Corran on the other hand was flustered, he was lost on what to do.
This is actually getting out of hand.
A surge of anger flared violently within me, spreading warmth from my chest to every limb. The audacity of Maro's action, to threaten Zilda, my protector and steadfast ally is unforgivable.
With measured but resolute steps, I moved between Maro and Zilda, physically shielding her with my presence. The room fell into stunned silence, every eye fixed intently on the escalating confrontation.
Zilda's sharp voice cut through the tension. "My lady, what are you doing? You fool, lower your weapon!" she shouted at me before turning her gaze to Maro.
"Enough!" Corran shouted, his voice authoritative even as it strained with urgency. "Maro, lower your weapon at once."
The fleeting hesitation in Maro's eyes deepened under the weight of our united front. Slowly, he let the blade fall, the cold steel sliding from his fingers to the ground with a dull clatter. The collective breath held throughout the room escaped in a symphony of relieved exhales.
Locking eyes with him, I conveyed without words that such recklessness would no longer be tolerated. The other knights exchanged uneasy glances, their earlier bravado fading under the weight of the moment.
Without wasting a second, I gripped Maro's hair firmly with one hand. Before he could react, I delivered the strongest punch I could muster, precise and controlled. His body crumpled to the floor, and gasps filled the room as jaws dropped in shock.
The instant my fist connected, Maro collapsed to the ground, the room erupting in shocked gasps and murmurs. Overwhelmed by the surge of adrenaline, I bent forward, placing both hands firmly on my knees to steady myself, my breath coming in heavy, ragged pulls.
I haven't felt this adrenaline rush for a long time, never once after waking up in this world.
For a long moment, I stayed bent there, gathering my strength, the weight of the moment settling over me like a thick fog. Then, straightening deliberately, I lifted my head and fixed every knight in the room with a sharp, unyielding glare.
Just then, a tall knight with a jagged scar tracing his jaw stepped forward. I met his gaze steadily, until Zilda moved in front of me, her hand dipping to her ankle where a dagger was strapped beneath her skirt. With fluid grace, she drew it and pointed its sharp tip directly at the advancing man.
"Step back," she commanded, her voice low and deadly serious. "Instead fight me."
What? What the hell is she saying?
He paused, his brow furrowing in surprise. "You want to fight me? A maid against a knight of the order?" He sneered.
Zilda said nothing. Instead, she lifted the dagger to her mouth, the she tied her hair up tightly.
He stared at her for a long moment, then unbuckled his sword belt and tossed it aside with a clatter. He drew his own sword, but his hand was tight on the hilt, his earlier mockery replaced by a hard focus.
"Fine," he growled. "But don't come crying to me when you're on the ground begging for mercy."
Without a reply, Zilda reached down again, pulling a second dagger from its hidden sheath beneath her skirt. Not a flicker of worry crossed her face, only the calm, unwavering focus of someone who knew exactly what she was doing.
I know with absolute certainty, that she is more than capable of holding her own. That I can trust her, and the she would definitely win.
A small smile touched my lips as I turned away from the standoff, my gaze settling on the two knights at the far wall, just as I noticed when we first entered the training ground, their tankards never far from their hands. They watched us now with mouths hanging open in obvious surprise, as if the reality of what was unfolding had finally broken through their drunken haze.
I made my way toward them, Butler Corran hurrying to keep step beside me, his brow furrowed and every line of his face etched with worry.
"We- we have nothing against you… my lady," the two drunken knights said in unison, scrambling to straighten up as I approached.
I gave them a smile, polite, but with an edge that made them flinch. Before they could say more, they hastily dragged a wooden barrel over and set it down in front of me. I sat atop it, settling in to watch Zilda face off against the scarred knight.
"Your Ladyship, aren't you going to stop them?" Butler Corran asked, his voice tight with worry.
I shook my head, my eyes never leaving the sparring circle. "Let them be," I answered firmly. "Do not worry, Butler, you may return to your work. I will handle everything here."
Though clearly hesitant, Corran nodded slowly. He cast one last anxious glance our way as he backed toward the door, and I gave him a reassuring smile to ease his mind before turning my attention back to the fight.
True to her confidence, Zilda was able to stand against the knight, her movements despite wearing a dress was fluid, as if she was trained to kill. Both of them in fact was so satisfying to watch, every move they make was clearly thought with precision. Even the drunkards besides me aggred.
"I wondered why she was familiar," said a voice beside me.
I turned to find Maro still shirtless, surprisingly holding a parasol over my head to shield me from the sun. I hadn't even noticed him move closer.
So that's why the heat had suddenly lifted.
"So… you know her?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.
"Oh, it was her," said a voice from the opposite side, one of the drunkards, now leaning forward with wide eyes. "She was that infamous girl from the academy who was expelled for beating the shit out of the son of Marquis Gloire." He let out a rough laugh as he spoke.
Son of Marquis Gloire? Ipomoea's brother...? Wait, Zilda went to an academy? In my knowledge only chosen individuals can enter an academy in this era, those who are rich, intelligent, and gifted people. I always known she was skilled, but this was something new entirely.
Turning back to the match just as Zilda landed a clean strike across the scarred knight's cheek, I clapped my hands excitedly. The blow wasn't deep enough to draw blood, but it was clear she had gained the upper hand.
Honestly, Zilda completely amazed me. To think that she was able to strike Evander's knight, my girl is so good.
"Oh my, you never told me you were this good at fighting, Zilda," I complimented enthusiastically.
"Halt! All of you. FACE ME THIS INSTANT!"
The voice thundered through the training ground, sharp and furious enough to make my soul nearly leap out of my body. Every head snapped toward the entrance, where Evander stood his face dark with anger, his hands clenched at his sides.
Shit. Is this a bad thing?
***
The sky, the sun, the trees and the bird, every is lovely.
The gazebo offered a cool, refreshing refuge, where the gentle breeze carried not only a warm caress but also the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers from the surrounding garden.
"You're distracted again," a firm voice interrupted the peaceful moment.
I straightened up, facing forward to find Evander watching me with a serious expression, red eyes studying mine.
"I have told you everything that had happened," I replied, my own voice steady. "None of those were entirely my fault."
Evander was quiet for a moment, his gaze never leaving mine as he processed my words. A breeze picked up, rustling the leaves overhead and sending strands of hair across my face. When he finally spoke, his tone was softer than his usual.
"I never said you were at fault," he said, leaning back against his chair. "The responsibility lies on me, I apologize for that." His voice laced with genuine sincerity.
I gulped, feeling a flutter in my chest. I expected him to be defensive, maybe even angry about the fight or the state of his knights but I never thought he would be like this, taking full blame and speaking so gently.
Why do I always think of him badly?
"Well, you don't have to worry about that," I said, reaching up to brush the stray hair from my face. "That matter is already solved, for now."
He took a sip of his coffee, his red eyes fixed on the cup as he set it back down.
"I doubt that," he said flatly. "But I will handle those fools, they need to learn respect, and discipline."
I stared at him, barely registering his words. The set of his jaw, the hard line of his mouth, there was no mistaking it. He intended to come down hard on them. I know their mistakes were serious, and this isn't just about him. The matter concerned me too, if he deals with it alone, it would only fix things on the surface, never addressing whatever was really driving their behavior.
"Rather than that, let- allow me to speak with them." I said to him.
Evander looked up sharply, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied my face. For a moment, silence stretched between us, broken only by the rustle of leaves and the distant chirp of birds.
After a long pause, he let out a deep breath, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little.
"If that is what you want," he replied, his voice carrying a note of reluctant acceptance. "I'll gather them all tonight at the dining hall."