Even if you raise her like a flower, you cannot block her ears from the world.
In the midst of her dozing, the young lady thought it was a dreamlike time. As she replayed the events in her mind, she felt the heat rise in her chest and the pit of her stomach once again.
Though she could scarcely stand and moving her fingers seemed a chore, it was peculiar that she still felt the urge for “more.”
Had she the stamina, she would have attacked the man who lent her his arm before collapsing to rest.
It was almost as if the joyous festival at the Manor or the women who gathered secretly to judge the men were all fabrications of a dream. Such was the extent of her elation.
The maiden’s first time was one of pain, spent wishing it would end quickly, as the older women had warned the young girls with a threatening tone. They said an aroused man would be rough and selfish, focusing only on their own pleasure without any concern for others.
Some warnings went as far as to claim that the man would brutally force their unclean “thing” into your mouth in their desire for satisfaction. She could barely sleep that night, feeling revulsion.
The older women advised that, at the very least, the maidens should steer the situation themselves to avoid unpleasant incidents.
Reflecting upon it, Filene understood that the older women were not lying. It was not like deceiving a child by telling them candy was poisonous.
Witnessing the aftermath of the spring and autumn festivals at the Manor, the young girls who had “blossomed” the night before walked gingerly the next day, attentive to their thighs.
However, upon reminiscence, there was no pain, only a lingering, pleasant numbness of ecstasy.
The maiden’s first blood was not due to broken hymens but rather the friction of membranes. Tense muscles can be dry and rigid, leaving women with no choice but to endure the pain as not all men can achieve climax so easily.
But if tensions ease and the body relaxes, the pain can be lessened, making the journey to “ripening” much shorter.
The man’s arms that she dove into, ready to accept the pain, turned out to be unexpectedly gentle.
Though she cannot recall everything amidst the tumultuous emotions, she remembers the sweet whispers in her ear, the fingers and lips roaming her body.
Embarrassed as she was by all the attention, his care not to harm her included touching even the most intimate parts with tenderness, leading to a mind-melting combination of pleasure and sweetness.
Her only regret was that she reached her limit and couldn’t rise from the bed while he showed no signs of tiring after giving her his heat three times.
The women had warned that men don’t stop until they’ve spent themselves fully. Yet her encounter was one in which all threats felt like empty lies, all culminating in his thoughtfulness till the very last.
Though soiled — though borrowed from the household staff (she’ll pay them back later) — the bedding had already been straightened by the man, and her sweat-covered body was cleaned with cloth.
Even the outside well water he used to clean himself carried no unpleasant odor, only a pleasant scent of sweat when she leaned into him, the same sweet and kind fragrance.
He smelled of tobacco, she guessed, but actually, it was the delicate fragrance from his hair swaying in the breeze, a scent Filene came to recognize as his own.
Ah, what a sweet dream. What a fragrant night.
How many women in the world could claim such happiness in their first time?
There had been no fine banquet, no elegant lunch attire, no flowers presented, but the maiden was ecstatic.
For the deeply rooted terror that had once plagued her was entirely gone.
Indeed, without it, she could lie happily, pain-free. Perhaps, because of it.
An instinctive sense of relief. The confidence to know that as long as she was in these arms, she would never be hurt. His strength and care, not just gentle but also protective, stirred emotions that defied description.
That must be what the world calls love, she thought with a certainty.
When she first saw him, she thought he was just a man deserving of his reputation.
Her father pushed her to meet him again, and she thought, if she was to fade away unknowing love, then at least someone famous might be a comforting companion.
On meeting him for the third time, he wiped away her fear. Now, there was no hesitation.
That said, there was one unfortunate matter. She wished to savor this awareness of love and the subsequent languid feelings. She wanted to gaze upon his face, knowing he might still be awake. But, the sweet sleepiness was relentless in its grasp, much to her dismay.
She wished he would refrain from closing his eyes, for even that brief respite was denied her by the God of Night Shadow, as it brought her comfort mercilessly.
After awakening from a sleep of deep regret, the maiden found herself lying in her own bed.
The nightgown she had worn when she left was neatly folded, fresh and fragrant from what seemed like a wash. Her body, free of the previous night’s evidence, felt like it had been washed in a tub, bringing a refreshing clarity to her senses.
The encounter felt like it could have been a dream, but there was undeniable evidence.
A single bouquet lay by her pillow, made of paper flowers. A lily folded so artfully it seemed to defy logic, an everlasting bloom crafted not only with blossoms but stems as well.
When she touched it, she recognized the paper texture and smelled his scent.
Filene decided to call a maid soon and prepare a vase for this precious keepsake. She would thank the person who discreetly helped her last night, and request a small feather duster to gently maintain the flower from dust, along with her eternal gratitude.
To cherish this loving token forever…
His wit shines. An everlasting bloom, not unlike the magical flower plucked by a legendary hero from a sacred mountain to profess his love to a princess.
A love that never fades, a vow entrusted to an imperishable flower.
The young lady tenderly embraced the flower without disturbing its shape and gently caressed her own abdomen with her arm, hoping for something precious left behind…
…
…
Two-fold regrets plagued my mind, and the self-deprecating humor lurking in the corner of my brain was most irksome. Given my tendencies, it wasn’t unexpected.
Still, I shouldn’t make light of my misdeeds. Even as I evade reality through self-loathing and feelings of guilt towards Margit and Lady Filene…
Even as the sun rose and I secretly escorted her back, no solution came to light. The wrongs done to Margit… If I had sent her back casually at that moment, I would’ve tormented myself endlessly. Sending a woman trembling with fear back prematurely allows the terror to ferment, possibly even reaching despair. When that happens, the situation becomes much harder to mend…
With the citizens of the Manor looking up to her, it would damage everyone’s morale, not to mention the Lord’s ability to act…
Ah, no, stop it. I’m just rationalizing and trying to diminish my responsibilities.
Regardless of Margit’s words, I’m the one who ended up embracing her, and the one responsible for making a child…
It’s my fault for indulging too much in that pleasant, ambiguous atmosphere. The comfort of staying close without making great decisions was too alluring.
I must remember this lesson. I didn’t approach Lady Filene frivolously, but if this becomes a habit and I start to toy around elsewhere, the situation could get worse. Humans tend to make foolish mistakes when they relax.
I’ve recognized my folly, so I will not remain pathetic.
At the very least, I must avoid disappointing the women who wonder if I’ve betrayed their trust with my actions…
“Hey, what’s wrong with you? You were looking dumbfounded, and now you’re suddenly serious,” Siegfried’s voice snapped me out of it.
“Ah, sorry… I’ve been thinking about various things,” I replied. He pulled the spade I had been jabbing into the ground, pressing it into my hand as we resumed work.
With one night’s rest, the confusion had subsided, and the Sword Friends Association was now busy with the aftermath of last night.
On the outskirts of the Manor, near the common graveyard, some idle men were helping us dig graves.
Not empty graves as planned, but graves for the undead we repelled yesterday. Explaining through Lady Kaya, we conveyed that these people bore no inherent sin, instead being unwilling victims who had suffered misfortune. Understanding this, the Manor’s residents readily assisted.
Partly out of fear of disease from the corpses, we also wanted them to directly participate in this victory, hence we requested their help.
Though last night’s undead heat was entirely gone after a full night, we recited prayers for their peaceful afterlife to the God of Night Shadow, carrying their bodies to the graveyard. A corner with only a few tombstones was chosen for deep graves.
Of course, though the destruction was meant to be minimal, the “precautionary” cutting of the tendons in their limbs was done quietly during the night, in case they revived accidentally. We couldn’t risk being attacked from the inside due to oversights.
“This… the bones are burned too…” one murmured.
“What kind of magic could do something like this… It’s terrible…” another exclaimed.
“That’s a woman… so young…
“This lad could be my son’s age… How could it come to this?”
“Terrible. Murdered and their bodies used… Curse those accursed sorcerers. The Sun God must punish them.”
As condolences and prayers of retribution filled the air, the burials were smoothly carried out. Despite the fifty bodies making it a day-long endeavor, the men’s relief from understanding the victory was evident.
More importantly, their pitying and empathetic reactions filled me with hope.
A broken spirit would not react this way. A spirit that seeks vengeance by abusing the bodies might find a grim joy in it, so we’re moving in the right direction.
Adventurers are unaccustomed to prolonged warfare. Many who choose this life have little patience, and originally defense missions are better suited for mercenaries. It’s like using light cavalry for garrison duties…
Still, without complaints or frustration, the fact that we can continue fighting is reassuring.
An endless defensive battle is difficult. It would be nice to have word come from the magistrate sooner.
Speaking of which, the Lord decided it was time to send another express horse to the magistrate after yesterday’s attack. With suspicious movements reported repeatedly, it is no longer a hypothetical but an immediate request for reinforcements.
Meaning, the Lord demands the taxes’ worth of service. After all, we’ve been hired by him and the Manor, meaning they’re footing the bill that will ultimately require numerous gold coins. It’d be ideal to have the patrol officials resolve everything without extra expenses or the military mobilized early. They shouldn’t hesitate to pay, but the burden would heavily weigh on the Manor as they prepare to invest in new housing and land demarcation. Military expenses are a heavy strain on internal governance, yet leaving them inadequately defended invites conquest, so it is a necessity.
Ah… I wish I had four heavy machine gun turrets for fighting the undead. It’d resolve most of the problems. I wonder when someone from the Magic Academy will develop them…
Then again, it might change the direction of my beloved fantasy. Too much evolution would drag me into a world of trenches and shovels that I’m not ready for.
As we wrapped up the burial, with all preparations done, including dispatching the swift horse with two skilled guards and Margit in charge, my beloved two stallions left the Manor.
The ride to the magistrate’s office should take a day, the petition and reply three more, and with a return trip of one day, it would be a five-day journey. If they take precautionary detours, it might extend by one or two days…
With added instructions to gather information during the trip, it might be delayed even more.
Though I’ll miss Margit who was as reliable as my other half, the information reaching the Magistrate’s office properly is more critical. I considered swapping scouts at the last moment, but with a lone scout and a single guard, it wouldn’t be balanced. Therefore, I entrusted the mission to her as the most capable scout.
I trust my decision, but I still have my worries. Wars evoke fear no matter how much you understand their necessity.
Even so, I must stand confidently and oversee the mission. It’s taxing on the spirit…
Tactics are like convincing allies that thin ice is solid steel, and marching confidently across it. That’s what my favorite prose poet, Berncastle, once wrote. He truly had an eye for the essence of things…
This small Manor could have crumbled due to a single mistake. Had we arrived half a month late, if the training began ten days later, if the walls or traps were delayed by three days, if the minefields were set up one day too late, we’d likely be in a nightmare by now…
We might even have been cutting off hands and feet to prevent our loved ones from being reused by the enemy…
Worse still, we would have fled disgracefully with our remnants…
But realizing we’ve been fortunate doesn’t let us merely depend on it. Especially since I am the one who’s turned away from fortune…
While my partner is away, I will protect the Manor with every ability I have. Although I may grow restless due to the delay in information dissemination, I will remain composed, steadfast in my resolve to endure the fight.
The enemy’s purpose remains unknown, but if they’re playing a game of harassment across multiple fronts, that would be about as much as I can handle.
This is like a game of strategy. If there’s a stubborn piece sitting in an annoying spot, you can neither take it nor bypass it easily, forcing you to attack from an unexpected direction. I’ve suffered plenty of such experiences against the elegant Lady Cecilia, who knows the true pain of such tactics…
She’s terrifyingly skilled, favoring straightforward strategies but excels at these irritating maneuvers. If she ever were in a position of power, I wouldn’t want to cross her.
“Alright, the burials are done. The sun’s setting, so let’s leave formal offerings for another day. Perhaps engage monks to chant scriptures or holy songs for the dead,” I said.
Now, with a pause in our labors, let’s discuss the next move with Siegfried over dinner. Somehow, he’s been rather distant today, so if there’s any misunderstanding, I should clear it up.
Still, being wise, he might understand on his own. He dislikes unnecessary gestures and won’t tolerate foolish words, knowing that I truly dislike it when he worries about me…
I understand. Though he’s young— the more shelves to place him on, the better— he isn’t thoughtless or impulsive. If he’s upset, there must be a reasonable cause, and the fact he hasn’t confronted me directly means he has his own considerations…
In that case, I see no reason to intrude recklessly and nullify his concern. Understanding that there’s no estrangement from normal conversation will suffice.
Additionally, there’s Lady Filene, who has begun to move and is already bringing offerings over. I must attend to her…
Her whisper earlier, when Margit left, about “going too far”… Yes, it’s clear enough…
