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Join the ServerIn the morning, within the mansion’s great hall.
Betty Lane and Lucia sat opposite each other. Before them stretched a long dining table, typically used by nobles.
At each end of the expansive table, their respective breakfasts were laid out.
Betty Lane’s face was covered with gauze, while Lucia’s eyes were wrapped in bandages. Both were injured, making them an unexpectedly fitting pair.
A maid approached, serving their post-meal dessert ahead of time. Once the final dish was placed, Betty Lane dismissed her, sending her away from the hall.
The entire hall became utterly silent, leaving only Betty Lane and Lucia.
Lucia pulled off the bandages wrapped around her eyes. They formed a loose loop, which she casually draped around her neck.
She glanced at the gauze on Betty Lane’s cheek. Beneath it lay the faint imprint of the slap she had delivered, a memory that still filled her with guilt.
Unable to resist, she asked again, “Are you truly alright? Can you really chew your food?”
“It’s nothing, Your Eminence, please eat,” Betty Lane replied with a gentle smile, gesturing with her hand.
Lucia’s slap had indeed caused no significant harm to her robust body, merely leaving a small mark on her face.
Though the servants dared not gossip in her presence about the palm print on her face, Betty Lane sensed their knowing, inscrutable expressions throughout the mansion. This made her quite uncomfortable.
She had only applied the gauze to conceal the slap mark, preserving her dignity as a viscountess before the servants.
The two began their meal. In the tranquil hall, the clinking of cutlery against porcelain plates created a solitary, almost eerie symphony.
Betty Lane was the first to break the silence.
“I went to see His Royal Highness yesterday.”
“Mm,” Lucia murmured, chewing thoughtfully.
“His Highness did not approve my resignation,” Betty Lane said with a touch of regret.
“Mm,” Lucia replied, not particularly concerned with her knight’s work affairs, yet signaling her attention absentmindedly.
“His Highness merely stated that the search for you is temporarily concluded and instructed me to await new orders.”
“Mm,” Lucia continued to eat.
“I possess a viscounty in the western reaches of the kingdom.”
Lucia looked up at Betty Lane, her knife and fork movements slowing slightly. Although she knew Betty Lane was a viscountess, she had always assumed it was an honorary title.
She was deeply surprised to learn Betty Lane was a viscountess with actual territory.
Betty Lane, noticing Lucia’s astonishment, chuckled and explained, “Your Eminence, you might see me serving as a knight on the front lines despite being a viscountess, but my viscount title is unlike those honorary ones purchased with gold.”
“It is a genuine title earned through merit on the battlefield.”
Lucia nodded, indicating her understanding.
A false viscounty offered nothing but an empty title. A true viscounty, however, granted a fief bestowed by Valga, making one a local lord.
Such a position allowed for a life of opulent leisure, simply collecting taxes.
In fact, Betty Lane had lived exactly such a life before encountering Lucia, as one of the minor nobles in the western territories.
These minor nobles were scattered across the kingdom, forming Valga’s grassroots administrative network.
If they chose to forgo the comfortable life on their own lands, they could continue to strive on the front lines. Their minor noble status would then grant them a higher starting point.
By joining the battlefield, they could conscript militias, train advisors, foster retainers, and even cultivate their own knights.
They could serve as noble commanders in a corner of the battlefield, leading their forces to fight for the kingdom. Achieving greater military feats would lead to promotion to higher noble ranks.
Alternatively, they could seek minor positions in the stable capital, using their official capacities to forge connections with other nobles or curry favor with greater ones.
Betty Lane had chosen the latter path, but not for fame or fortune. She had simply been captivated by Lucia at first sight and had served as her guardian knight for eight years.
Lucia, however, was not so conceited. She imagined Betty Lane’s initial motivation for serving as a guardian knight in the capital must have been to seek advancement.
After a brief silence, Betty Lane finally addressed the main topic.
“His Highness has graciously permitted me to return to my fief to await orders. Your Eminence, please come with me to my territory.”
Lucia paused, then resumed her meal. “Alright.”
Lucia’s casual reply, though understated, greatly encouraged Betty Lane. Her face lit up with joy, leading her to occasionally let out soft giggles during the latter half of their meal, unable to contain herself.
Before long, they finished their main courses and savored their desserts, concluding breakfast.
Betty Lane, though on temporary leave, chose not to immediately accompany Lucia. Instead, she excitedly clasped Lucia’s hands, her voice trembling slightly.
“Your Eminence, please return to your room to rest. I will arrange our journey back to the fief today. At the earliest, we could depart this afternoon.”
Lucia hesitated briefly before nodding. “Mm.”
She then returned to her room. The various bottles and experimental equipment, now useless, had been cleaned away by the servants.
The culmination of that experiment was now concentrated within the small flask at Lucia’s waist.
Lucia settled into a high-backed chair, lifting the flat flask to examine it closely.
‘With this flask, and by moving away from the capital, will I truly be able to escape the vortex of conflict?’
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