#117. Eve (2)
Andrei silently watched Nikolai’s back as he walked away.
He couldn’t stop thinking about the last words his friend had spoken.
Was it because of the strange expression on his face before he said them? Or the slight tremble in his voice at the end?
Or maybe it was because Andrei suddenly remembered—Nikolai had no family to spend this last night with.
“…Haa.”
His thoughts were tangled. Unable to continue training, Andrei finally went home.
As soon as he opened the door, his mother caught him in the entryway, waiting for his return.
“Andryusha!”
Pulled tightly into his mother’s embrace, Andrei froze.
Madame Medvedev stroked her grown son’s broad back, overflowing with strength.
“Oh, my little bear. Tomorrow I must send you away to that cruel place.”
He was far too large to be called a little bear, yet in his mother’s eyes he still looked like a cub.
“When you go too, I’ll be left here alone, praying for the safety of both my bears.”
Her voice, always so firm, now wavered with tears.
“Wherever you are, take care of yourself.”
A tender hug. A heartfelt plea.
In his mother’s arms, Andrei felt his chest stir uneasily.
“Now, go wash and rest. You leave at dawn tomorrow—you must recover your strength.”
She urged him toward the bath she had already prepared.
Andrei started to follow, but suddenly stopped. No—it wasn’t sudden.
This thought had been circling in his mind all along.
‘That guy… he’s not still at the tavern, is he?’
He pictured his friend who had flippantly waved him off earlier, saying he would go drink.
If Nikolai drowned himself in alcohol tonight, would he even make it to assembly tomorrow on time?
And even if he did, what if he was still drunk—what if he couldn’t focus, and fell to some reckless strike?
What if he fell from his horse and was badly injured before even reaching the front?
So many dangers lurked before they could even join the unit holding the front line against monsters.
And even with a sharpened mind, it would barely be enough…
“…Forgive me, Mother. I need to step out for a while.”
“At this hour?”
“Yes. It’s urgent.”
“Urgent? Must it be now?”
“Yes. Now.”
“…Very well. Go carefully, my son.”
Even with her face full of worry, his mother did not try to stop him. That made Andrei ask:
“I’ll bring my friend with me. Is that all right?”
Her eyes widened in surprise.
“Oh, of course it’s all right! …Wait, could it be that your friend is Sir Nikolai?”
“Yes.”
Knowing enough about Nikolai already, she asked no further.
Instead of questioning why, or saying he should be with his own family, she simply added warmly:
“Go on then, bring him here. It’s cold outside—I’ll have the room warmed so he can be comfortable.”
The tavern was brightly lit inside, filled with the loud shouts of drunks yelling, “Drink! Drink!”
It was a stark contrast to the gloomy silence of Bellicordo’s inner castle.
Well, these were ordinary townsfolk after all.
The death of a noble they had never even seen up close in their lives wasn’t enough to leave them mourning all day.
Of course, the Grand Duke’s death wasn’t without impact.
“But now that the Grand Duke has passed, what will happen to this land?”
“There’s a proper heir, isn’t there? The young lord—he’s been made the new Grand Duke, hasn’t he?”
“Tsk. That’s the problem, isn’t it? That young lord becoming Grand Duke. You’ve all heard those stories that spread back then.”
The Demon Grand Duke.
People remembered the cruel rumors that gave rise to that nickname and let out uneasy sighs.
They might never meet the so-called “demon” or “angel” Grand Duke in person.
But they knew well enough: a lord’s ability and character determined the lives of the people.
A good lord meant good lives. A cruel lord meant suffering.
Even simple folk understood that.
To lighten the dark mood, someone spoke up:
“Didn’t they say the rumors were false? That he’s actually an excellent man.”
“I know that too. But isn’t he still too young?”
“He’s already an adult. What’s wrong with that?”
“The problem is he’s just barely an adult.”
One drunk scowled, voicing his unease.
“Besides, the new Grand Duke leaves for war tomorrow, doesn’t he! Then what about the land? He’s not even thinking of ruling here properly.”
Perhaps because he was drunk, his complaints rang through the tavern.
“Don’t worry about that!”
A voice cut in.
Red hair. A sly fox’s smile. A trained body that couldn’t be hidden beneath plain clothes.
It was Nikolai.
“The new Grand Duke is wise and capable. He’ll crush the border monsters quickly and return.”
He swept his gaze around the room, as if warning them.
“And while he’s away, the lady will govern the land just fine. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“The lady? You mean the Grand Duke’s wife?”
“That’s right. She’s now the Grand Duchess.”
“Khmm!”
At Nikolai’s pointed look, the drunk who had been complaining quickly shut his mouth.
But not everyone stayed quiet. Some grew curious at how confidently this stranger spoke of nobles.
“And how do you know what kind of person this lady is? Isn’t she also very young? You think an inexperienced girl can manage a whole duchy?”
Before Nikolai could answer, the drunk who had been silenced earlier muttered bitterly:
“If she doesn’t ruin everything, it’ll be a miracle. Maybe I should apply to move somewhere else.”
He added more sneering words, mocking.
Mocking her?
Nikolai’s temple throbbed, veins standing out. But he forced his face calm and replied smoothly:
“Well, I’m lucky enough to serve her up close, so I know. Her presence here is a blessing far beyond what worthless trash like you deserve.”
“What?”
The drunk slammed his hand down.
“Did you just call me t-trash?”
Fueled by drink, he grabbed for Nikolai’s collar despite the knight’s formidable build.
The tavern tensed—on the brink of a fight.
Then, a bearded man who had been watching quickly stepped in.
“Whoa, whoa! If you fight him, your wife will be a widow tomorrow! Do you even know who this man is?”
The drunk froze, eyes darting to Nikolai. Who is he? Someone famous?
Nikolai stayed quiet, so the man explained instead, half in jest:
“Look closely! That red hair, that pretty face—don’t you see? He’s none other than Sir Nikolai, the youngest ever to enter the Black Wolf Knights, despite being born a commoner!”
At the words Black Wolf Knights, the drunk’s face instantly sobered. Terror wiped out his bravado, and he stumbled back.
“Eeek!”
Shaking, he stared at Nikolai, who only sighed lightly and waved a hand.
The meaning was clear: Leave.
The drunk bolted without looking back.
‘Well, no need for blood on a night like this.’
Nikolai sat down at an empty table.
He ordered a drink, and the bearded man who had stopped the fight asked casually:
“Hey, Nikolai. Aren’t you leaving for war tomorrow? Should you really be here?”
“What’s the harm?”
Nikolai laughed carelessly.
“Tomorrow I go to a battlefield where I might die. I should at least enjoy one last feast.”
The words were heavy, but he said them so lightly they didn’t sound serious. The man who asked only fell silent, uneasy.
Alone again, Nikolai looked around the lively tavern.
Then—thunk! A mug of beer landed on his table.
“Die tomorrow? If you’re going to say depressing things, don’t do it here!”
The server had overheard him, scowling.
Nikolai chuckled.
“Mmm, going to kick me out?”
“No. How could I throw out a customer who’s ordered both food and drink?”
“Ha ha, lucky me.”
“But even for a regular, isn’t this a bit pathetic for a last meal?”
He gestured at the dish in front of Nikolai—a thick stew, endlessly simmered in the inn’s fireplace with whatever ingredients were tossed in daily.
Even the cook barely knew what went into it.
“Not bad for a final meal.”
Unbothered, Nikolai scooped up a spoonful and slurped it loudly.
“Ahh! That clears me right up.”
“Really?”
The server sat down across from him, resting his chin on his hand.
“So, after this, will you go home?”
“Why, you trying to get rid of me?”
“Not that. But you said you might die tomorrow. Shouldn’t you spend tonight with someone important—your family, a friend, a lover?”
“…Well…”
