Chapter 11
Erkina couldn’t quite remember how she had eaten lunch. Time seemed to have flown by in a daze.
It was all because of Ilyas.
“Sharing a meal with the savior of my life, Princess… my heart might burst!”
“My mother simply can’t ignore someone in need,” Erkina replied.
“There are two angels in the empire! Ah, may I cut your steak? I’ve learned to do it carefully so the juices don’t escape. My uncle taught me.”
Now, she had not one, but two admirers fixated on her.
One remained silent, sulking in his gaze, while the other chattered endlessly.
Erkina couldn’t even recall whether she had chewed her steak properly amid such extreme attention.
She began to suspect that her previous memories had been flawed. In her recollection, Ilyas had always scowled and rarely spoken.
“Are you usually this talkative?” she asked cautiously when they went out to the garden for tea.
“Please, Princess, speak informally! I haven’t even earned my knighthood yet!”
“But the Marquis, who also serves as a border lord, considers you his heir…”
Eleven-year-old Ilyas already had a well-built frame. Broad shoulders like his uncle, tall, and muscular thighs—he would likely grow into the perfect knightly physique.
“Oh my, Erkina. Why don’t you treat each other like friends?”
At that moment, Mernelia interjected.
She valued the dignity of royalty and expected her daughter to behave properly with other nobles’ children—so why was she so casual?
“Oh, how could I ever be friends with the Princess?”
Ilyas waved his hands dramatically, exaggerating his refusal.
Beside him, Caligo narrowed his eyes, looking annoyed, almost as if hoping for another punch.
“And today, I actually…”
“Actually, what?”
“I came to pledge my knightly oath to the savior of my life!”
Ilyas’ voice rang out across the garden, loud and clear.
This would have been impossible before Erkina’s regression.
Everything happening now was because she had changed the future. With Ilyas acting so favorably, the Marquis would also become a strong ally for her and Mernelia…
She should have felt delighted, but strangely, she felt uneasy.
The Marquis sitting there, gazing at her mother with such fondness—it was unsettling.
“Oh my, how wonderful. Isn’t it, Marquis?”
Hearing Mernelia’s voice, Erkina realized something.
The tone, so gentle and soft, was completely different from when they faced Jerthermion. The red-haired princess and the brown-haired boy looked quite harmonious sitting side by side—far more so than with the prickly magician.
“Yes, Princess. It is a good sight,” the Marquis replied.
And unlike before, they were not dueling with blades of magic.
What should she do?
She couldn’t exactly intervene to separate them either.
“Um… Mother?”
Without realizing it, Erkina reached for her mother’s sleeve.
Mernelia turned to her daughter, bending slightly to meet her gaze and smoothing back her hair.
“This is a truly honorable moment. The knightly oath is not something just anyone can receive,” Mernelia whispered with a wink.
“Even among royals, only the most special may receive the oath sworn by a Verden knight,” she added, her gaze meaningful.
Erkina realized her mother was wearing a mask.
It was the necessary vigilance of a royal embroiled in succession disputes. The Marquis of Verden was a target Mernelia had to secure.
It wasn’t out of romantic liking; it was simply precaution.
Feeling slightly reassured, Erkina took a breath.
Mernelia, misreading the gesture as nervousness, whispered with a smile,
“Don’t be tense, Erkina. If you grow to be the emperor who succeeds me, you will become familiar with such moments.”
The words swirled through Erkina’s mind: a knightly oath…
She seriously contemplated, then turned toward the Marquis and raised her hand slightly.
“Marquis, may I ask a question?”
“I will answer anything I can,” he replied.
“Is a knightly oath the same as a loyalty oath? I heard both are sworn to only one person.”
The Marquis’ eyebrows rose, but the corners of his eyes softened. He seemed to like her question.
“No, they are different. A loyalty oath is sworn to the lord one serves. The men of the Verden family wield their swords for the empire alone,” he explained.
The last part was crucial.
Erkina had just heard, in his own words, why it was vital to secure the Marquis’ loyalty.
Of course, she couldn’t fully grasp it—she was only eight years old. But she inclined her head and asked again.
“Then what does it mean when Ilyas wants to do it for me?”
“It means he pledges to serve you as his only lady.”
Erkina pretended to consider it gravely. Then, in a voice more careful than anyone else’s, she answered:
“If that’s the case, I won’t accept a knightly oath.”
“Erkina? What is she…?”
Even with her mother’s flustered expression, Erkina was resolute.
“I’m sorry, Mother. But I can’t.”
Ilyas’ jaw dropped, having not expected refusal.
“P-Princess…?”
Stammering, he struggled for words.
Erkina averted her gaze from Ilyas and looked directly at the Marquis. The Marquis smiled warmer than before and asked:
“May I ask why?”
“Ilyas is still young. What if, later, he finds a lady he truly likes? He wouldn’t be able to undo an oath sworn to me,” she reasoned.
What if he resented her again?
The situation had changed, but she could not yet relax.
“That is true. But an oath to one’s savior is a vow a knight would carry for life once he becomes a proper knight,” the Marquis explained.
Erkina now understood why he had not stopped his immature nephew. She also understood Mernelia’s wish for the oath.
Yet, it was not enough.
They should repay debts when Erkina and Mernelia most needed it—not with ceremonial oaths for a token lady.
“But my mother and I…”
Erkina turned to Mernelia and smiled brightly.
“We did not help to receive repayment. We did what was right, that’s all. Isn’t that so, Mother?”
“Well, yes. At the time, we didn’t even know Ilyas was the Marquis’ nephew,” Mernelia admitted, slightly hesitant but honest.
Though her daughter had been unusually headstrong since yesterday, seeing the Marquis’ expression made Mernelia smile softly.
Whether it was aligned thinking or luck, suddenly, the Marquis rose from his seat.
He strode up to Erkina, knelt on one knee, and aligned his gaze with hers, just as Mernelia had done.
“Thank you, Princess.”
“Uncle!”
“You have given my nephew the chance not to make a hasty decision. I will never forget your thoughtful care and the honor of Verden’s swords,” he said with deep resonance.
A slightly ticklish feeling ran through her.
Even though it wasn’t a loyalty oath, knowing they did not hold resentment was a significant achievement. The chance to protect her mother had increased slightly.
Erkina jumped down from the chair, held the edges of her dress, and curtsied gracefully.
“Thank you, Marquis.”
The Marquis could not take his eyes off her. Then he asked suddenly:
“You just turned eight, correct?”
“Yes, my birthday was yesterday.”
“I see.”
His calm green eyes blinked slowly. Yet the warm favor from before seemed gone, replaced by a questioning expression.
The Marquis glanced between his sulking nephew and Erkina, shaking his head slowly.
“With barely eight years, you think more maturely than Ilyas.”
“Eh?”
Perhaps it was just a compliment.
But for someone who had lived through time again, it hit her harder than usual.
“The depth of your thoughts surpasses even debutantes among the nobles…”
“Mother! You taught me!”
