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The soft glow of an oil lamp illuminated the desk. Johanna Swann sat upright on one side, a thick stack of parchment spread before her—Vito's wildly exaggerated, flowery, and often ridiculous "White Company Chronicles."
Jules sat across from her in a high-backed chair, his posture as straight as ever. But if you looked closely, you'd notice his fingers—resting on his knee—absentmindedly tracing the edge of his leather bracer.
And today… Jules wasn't wearing his usual mercenary leathers or plain linen shirt. He had actually put on a proper silk robe. It made him look less like a hardened captain and more like a lord or a respectable knight.
Johanna's voice was gentle and clear, like a mountain stream cutting through the quiet. "Captain Jules, here Vito wrote that in the second contract after the company was founded, near Tyrosh, the newly formed White Company was betrayed and ambushed by the Broken Spear Company. The situation was desperate, and you single-handedly held the rear, defending a stone bridge alone against dozens of times your number to buy the company time to retreat." She lifted her bright blue eyes, filled with sincere curiosity. "He says you were 'like a boulder in a storm, immovable. Your twin swords danced like white silk, claiming a life with every breath.' Could you… tell me more details? What did the bridge look like? What were you thinking at the time? It must have been incredibly difficult."
Jules's throat bobbed slightly. He cleared his throat, cutting her off. His voice was still the familiar low, gravelly tone, but there was a slight stiffness to it, as if he were forcing himself to stay composed. "The bridge… was narrow." He began describing it in short, clipped sentences, his gaze fixed on some point in the air as if recalling a report. "It was an old abandoned aqueduct arch, made of stone. Below it… a dry riverbed full of rocks. In truth, most of the men chasing us were just rabble. I threw them off the bridge. After all, I was wearing heavy armor at the time."
He completely skipped (or rather, had no idea how to answer) her questions about his thoughts and feelings, steering the conversation straight back to cold, objective facts. "The Broken Spear Company wasn't dozens of times our number," he corrected, his tone as flat as if discussing the weather. "They chased us too eagerly. The first wave that reached the bridge was only about… five or six times our number. And they were overconfident, thinking we'd be demoralized after the betrayal and easy to finish off."
"Most importantly, as I said, they were just rabble—cannon fodder in any mercenary company. The fact that they blocked our path actually worked in our favor. The pressure wasn't as… dire as Vito described."
"Then you…" Johanna wanted to ask how he had held off so many, how he chose his position, how he handled the waves of attacks—details that would highlight personal bravery and judgment.
"Nothing special," Jules said stiffly, clearly treating this like a serious tactical debrief.
"There were four of us—myself, Harwin, Garvin, and Vito. We were all in armor and in good condition. Plus, the position was excellent: the bridge was narrow, so they couldn't bring many men across at once. Garvin and I held them at the front while Harwin and Vito used crossbows to pick them off." He seemed to feel his answer was too short, or perhaps he couldn't stand the admiring, curious look in Johanna's eyes, so he quickly pointed to another spot on the parchment to change the subject. "And here, Vito got it wrong."
Johanna followed his finger.
Jules continued, his voice carrying a hint of helpless exasperation at his old brother's exaggerations. "The loot we captured after beating them back… wasn't the 'extremely valuable azure dye' Vito made up, and it certainly didn't spill and turn half the company's faces blue for days, making the Tyroshi chase us laughing…" He paused, carefully choosing his words to avoid anything emotional. "In reality… we captured several bolts of Eastern silk. The quality was… decent. If you'd like, I can have some brought to you tomorrow for new clothes…"
As he spoke, even he seemed to realize how awkward it sounded.
What does captured silk have to do with giving Johanna silk?
Johanna listened to his dry, factual recounting, watched his tanned face grow slightly embarrassed, and glanced at Vito's vivid, almost comical description of the "blue-faced mercenaries." She couldn't help it—her fingers rose to gently cover her lips as a soft, understanding smile bloomed in her eyes.
---
In Vito's cluttered room, thick with the smell of wine and old parchment.
He was hunched over under an oil lamp, frowning as he tried to fix a rhyme in his latest poetry collection, muttering to himself.
"Damn it, why don't 'autumn leaves' and 'carefree' rhyme properly…"
"Maybe change it to… autumn leaves might find a beautiful resting place / yet autumn leaves are never quite as free / as the autumn wind's ca—ca… what?"
Before Vito could finish "pondering," his door was kicked open with a loud bang.
"Betting time! Betting time!" Old Tom burst in, kicking the door again for good measure. "Gambling pool!" He dragged Vito up from the table by the collar.
"Right now! Vito, stop reading that sappy poetry crap! Time for the brothers' favorite activity… which is!"
"Our captain! When the hell is he finally going to marry that Johanna girl!" Garvin roared with laughter, deliberately stretching out the words. The rest of the crew—Harwin, Leon, and the others—crowded in, all grinning like wolves.
Vito, still dizzy from being yanked upright, immediately perked up the second he heard the topic. His usual mischievous eyes lit up like lanterns. He shook off Old Tom, straightened his rumpled collar, cleared his throat, and put on his best professional bookie (and chief gossip) expression.
"Quiet! Everybody shut the fuck up!" Vito waved his arms, trying to calm the rowdy group.
He grinned. "Lately, the captain's mind hasn't been on the training field anymore! So—"
"Want to place bets? Fine! First, situation report!"
"Number one: the captain now glances toward Lady Johanna's room every single time he walks down the corridor!"
"Betting opens now!"
Within three months! (Lightning Wedding!)
Odds: 1 to 5!
As Vito wrote, Harwin muttered beside him, "Fuck, the captain's harder than Valyrian steel. Three months? Only if the Seven themselves come down… or the Lord of Light personally smites him with romance!"
Within six months! (Steady Progress!)
Odds: 1 to 3!
"This one's possible. Depends on how good the lady is at handling him. The captain seems to really like her type…" Garvin stroked his beard. "He's always had a thing for proper noble ladies!"
Within one year! (Slow and Steady!)
Odds: 1 to 2!
"I think this is the safest. The captain's gonna drag his feet for ages…" Old Tom grumbled. "You all know him—looks cold as ice, but deep down he's a real softie when it comes to this stuff!"
More than one year! (Long Campaign!)
Odds: 1 to 1.5!
"Honestly, he might just keep staring and never make a move," Leon shook his head. "You know how he is—full of that old knightly honor crap in his head…"
Never happens! (All for nothing!)
Odds: 1 to 10!
When Vito wrote this option, he glanced nervously at the door, afraid Jules might suddenly appear.
"Shhh… keep it down! If the captain hears we're betting on him failing, we'll all be mucking stables for a month!"
"Step right up! Place your bets!" Vito banged the table and shouted. "Coppers, silvers, gold dragons—bring it out! Use your gut and your coin purse to bet on the captain's iron-tree finally blooming… I mean, on our captain's happy future!"
As he took bets, someone muttered, "Vito, you're recording this so smoothly. Have you been secretly watching them for a while?"
Vito didn't even look up, just smirked proudly. "Obviously! I've even noted down which days the captain 'happened' to walk past Lady Johanna's window and which days they spent more than one candle-hour together in the study! This is called being a professional…"
The door creaked open.
Tiberius stood there with a faint smile. He casually tossed three gold dragons onto the "More than one year!" block.
"I bet it won't happen within a year!"