Under the Oak Tree - Chapter 396 - 157

396 Chapter 157

Riftan silently regarded her flushed face before removing the wet towel. Maxi hastily closed her legs when she felt a trickle down her thigh.

Her face burning, she stammered, “L-Let me do it.”

“Stay still.”

After gently pushing her back onto the bedroll, Riftan flipped the towel and began to wipe her down. Though uncomfortable, Maxi resigned herself to accepting his care. She quickly pulled up her trousers when he turned to grab a fresh towel.

He would always help her clean up after their couplings, yet she felt embarrassed each time. As she peeled off the hair clinging to her forehead, Maxi studied his face.

“Sh-Should we not go out? It’s getting loud outside.”

He was cleaning himself now, sitting with his back to her. When he glanced over his shoulder at her, Maxi could tell from his faraway gaze that he was still in shock. He straightened his trousers and reached out to stroke her waist.

“Do you think you will be able to ride today?’ he asked, his voice thick with concern.

“Y-Yes. You were not…that rough with me.”

Sitting up, Maxi gave him a shy smile. Her groin felt a little sore, but she knew he would force her to take one of the wagons if she expressed even the slightest hint of discomfort.

Picking up the coat she had discarded on the floor, Maxi feigned nonchalance. “Y-You should get dressed. People will find it strange…if we are away for too long.”

It was possible that somebody had already presumed what they were doing and was keeping everyone away from the shack. Maxi groaned in mortification at the thought.

Riftan apparently shared her worry; he watched the crude door rattling in the wind, then stood with a sigh. He threw on his woolen tunic and began putting on his armor. Maxi followed suit, draping an outer garment over her thin linen shirt.

Once they were both dressed, Riftan turned to her. “I will make sure nothing like this ever happens again.”

Maxi looked up at him in surprise. His expression was grim, as if he had committed a grave mistake.

Flustered, Maxi blurted out, “I-I was certainly startled, but I did not-”

“You know that’s not the problem,” he interjected, his face stony. “What if you come to be with child amidst…all this.”

Maxi’s face fell. She was not as troubled because she suspected she had difficulty conceiving. After all, she had only gotten pregnant once despite the frequency of their coupling. But she did not think that was the right way to reassure him.

“I-I’m sure there is nothing to worry about,” she said, grabbing her coat. “I am currently…not at risk of conception.”

Riftan eyed her skeptically before taking the coat from her. He gently helped her into it as he warned, “You must tell me at once if you sense any changes.”

“I really don’t think there’s cause for-”

“You must tell me,” he growled.

Maxi nodded, holding back a sigh. “I will let you know if I sense anything.”

After gazing into her eyes, Riftan retrieved their bags and turned toward the door. Maxi furtively felt her stomach as she followed him out of the shack. She wondered how it would feel to carry his child again. It would likely be nerve-racking and difficult, but at the same time, she knew she would be elated. And Riftan might very well lose his sanity from constant worry.

Maxi breathed a sigh as she shoved her hands into her coat pockets. She still felt a pang of loss whenever she thought about their unborn child, but Riftan seemed even more deeply scarred. For his sake, at least, she resolved to take precautions not to conceive for the time being. She wanted it to be when he could wholeheartedly rejoice at the news.

Marching forward, Maxi wiped the wistful image of a sweet infant from her mind.

***

“A message came.”

Richard Breston looked up from his jerky, his eyes meeting those of his towering aide. The giant northerner held a small, rolled parchment.

Still sitting atop the wooden chest he had been lounging on, Breston nimbly unfurled and read the message: some of the eastern nobles were sending supplies to the coalition army.

He crumpled the parchment and tossed it into the crackling fire. What exactly had that red-haired wench said to turn those eastern cowards? Not that their newfound loyalty was a concern. Yes, he wanted this campaign to succeed – but not too easily. It would not do for the coalition to vanquish the monsters without taking a blow.

With a languid wave of his hand, he signaled to his squire. “Bring me pen and ink.”

The young squire promptly returned with the requested items, a wooden board, and a fresh piece of parchment.

Breston scrawled a single line: Take appropriate measures.

“Deliver this to Barongaard,” he instructed, handing the note to his aide.

Barongaard was a key figure opposing the armistice in the East. The man would know what to do without any need for elaboration. Satisfied, Breston popped the last piece of jerky into his mouth and washed it down with a swig of strong liquor.

A crisp wind swept past his face, drawing his gaze to the frozen farmland beyond. A sense of pleasure washed over him. The thawing of the season would hardly end the South’s miseries. Starved by famine, Wedon would soon be ripe for the taking.

The mere thought of war invigorated him. What they were doing now – battling monsters – hardly counted. True warfare meant the clash of well-armored infantry and calvary, the seizing of fortified castles, and the annexation of rival territories.

Once this charade ends, the age of knights will come.

It was inevitable. The bloodthirsty warriors of the North bristled at the notion of the armistice. It was incomprehensible to them why they were not allowed to sweep away the weak southerners to claim their fertile lands.

Balto’s feudal lords were not alone in their discontent. In every kingdom, ambitious nobles chafed under their monarchs. Opposition to the armistice was swelling across the continent, and the young pope currently lacked the leadership to unify the divide. Once the remaining threats in the Pamela Plateau were extinguished, there would be no excuse left to maintain the peace. The flames of war would rise in its place.

A smug smile curled Breston’s lips. Though being placed under the command of the foreign mongrel was an insult to his honor, the prospect of the future made the indignity bearable. After all, such a farcical coalition would never be repeated.

The great monster war three years ago had nearly wiped out the Ayin monsters, and their bases were now in ruins. It was only a matter of time before the stragglers were eradicated. With the monster threat gone, the Seven Kingdoms would fracture, and the game of peace would reach its finale.

Though I feel bad for you…I doubt that will happen in your lifetime.

His smile fell at the voice that invaded his thoughts. The memory of those unwavering gray eyes stirred something within him. What else had that audacious woman said?

Because you will never surpass Riftan Calypse.

Breston crushed the goblet in his hand. Ridiculous wench.

Even if Rfitan Calypse managed to slay the dragon once again, it would not prevent the Seven Kingdoms from falling apart. Dristan would invade the devastated eastern territories of Wedon, while Balto and Arex would advance from above, as they had secretly agreed. Any aid from Livadon would be inconsequential.

This land would soon become a sea of flames.

Breton licked his lower lip as he imagined the defiant wench’s reaction when he presented her with the severed head of her beloved husband. She would be the first tribute he offered to his king.

***

After three grueling days of travel, the coalition army reached a fortified city on the border. Built to repel the invasions from Dristan, the city was a crucial military stronghold. Inns, large and small, along with military storehouses, lined the imposing palisade. Merchants bustled about, eager to sell their goods to the soldiers stationed there.

Maxi surveyed the city as she rode through the nearly two-kevette-long fence. Houses constructed of overlapping wooden boards huddled close together beside a deep trench. Nearby, ivory tents were pitched next to a gentle stream, tendrils of smoke rising from them.

As Maxi passed, she caught the faint scent of aromatic oils wafting through the air.

“W-What are those tents for?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Elliot, riding beside her, shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. “They are communal baths, my lady.”

Maxi’s eyes sparkled. “Baths?”

For some inexplicable reason, the knight seemed embarrassed as he awkwardly clarified, “Er, but not the sort of establishment your ladyship might be imagining.”