Chapter 58.2

“You suggested we bolster the soldiers’ morale,” Kennard replied, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He returned the canteen to Serin, who tilted his head back and drank without touching the spout.

“But was it necessary to make it appear as though I were instigating a brawl? I am the captain of the knights, after all.How could I possibly stoop to fighting with the lowest ranking soldiers?” Serin grumbled, securing the canteen.

“Could I have done it?” Kennard asked, tossing a small stone into the water and watching the ripples disperse.

“Certainly not. If His Grace were to become enraged, who would dare to challenge him? They would either seek refuge in a foxhole or perish from fright,” Serin responded, mimicking Kennard’s action by casting a stone into the water as a display of his displeasure.

“If this displeases you so greatly, perhaps I should assign someone else,” Kennard suggested.

“Well… perhaps Irish could…” Serin began, a glimmer of hope appearing on his face.

Kennard chuckled at Serin’s evident delight. “Does Irish even possess such a temperament? Besides, he is not even present. Have you received any word from him?”

There had been no substantial discoveries since Irish’s visit to the location known as the ‘Witch’s House’ beyond the border. He had been dispatched to uncover the origin of Duke Blade’s funds for his private army.

“It appears he is investigating the territory where Duke Blade formerly held the title of baron. The only correspondence we have received indicates a lack of significant findings thus far,” Serin explained.

“He is concealing it effectively,” Kennard replied.

“Indeed. But do you truly intend for me to continue engaging in this behavior?” Serin questioned.

“It would not carry the same weight if it were anyone else,” Kennard responded.

“What?” Serin exclaimed, his eyes widening in response to Kennard’s statement.

“Why?” Serin pressed.

“You heard Heath’s words earlier, did you not? Who is always at my side? It is you. It demonstrates my trust and reliance upon you. Is it easy to witness your right-hand man casually interacting with the lowest ranking soldiers? The fact that I permit this while being present is essential,” Kennard elaborated.

Serin listened intently, his brow furrowed in concentration, before a faint smile graced his lips. “Is it to uplift their spirits and provide them with a sense of relief?” he inquired.

Kennard watched as Serin slowly rose from the rock. “Let us depart. The sun is already beginning to set,” he suggested.

“Yes,” Serin agreed, brushing dirt from Kennard’s coat as he stood up. “We are spending the night at this post, correct?”

“Yes,” Kennard confirmed. Ideally, he desired to return to the castle and proceed to the next post in the morning.However, that would necessitate a significantly longer journey and a waste of time.

His thoughts drifted to Elena, whom he had seen that morning. Unable to return her to her quarters the previous night, she had fainted several times from the intensity of their intimacy and was unable to move afterward, seemingly stricken with a fever.

Cura had brought a stew of venison and bread to Elena’s room in the evening. Startled speechless when Kennard personally accepted the tray from her at the door, Cura departed after his dismissal. Carrying the tray to the bed, Kennard found Elena struggling even to sit up. Using thick cushions to prop her into a near-reclining position, he fed her spoonful after spoonful of stew, cooling each bite with his breath. Driven by hunger, she ate without complaint.

Watching her eat with half-closed eyes, Kennard breathed a silent sigh of relief. Once her appetite was satiated, sleep claimed her again. Quickly finishing the remaining food, Kennard lay beside her, removing the cushions and cradling her head against his chest and arm. He spent the night awake, holding the limp Elena in his arms, only drifting into sleep briefly before dawn.

When Kennard left the room to inspect the posts with Serin, Elena was still in a deathlike slumber.

“Did I push her too far?” he muttered to himself as they rode toward the next post, his mind consumed by thoughts of Elena.

“Perhaps we should camp at the next post instead of this one,” Kennard suggested as the path narrowed and the trees thickened.


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