"Saint Peter’s grace will surely descend, and its radiance will outshine even the Crown of England. It could make you one of the Blessed, celebrated for generations to co. Centuries, even a millennium from now, people may rember the cunning and cruelty of the Normans, but they will also rember that among them was a man of great virtue and talent, a man of Devotion: Robert the Blessed."
"Then it’s settled. I’ll set off at once, ride through the night back to Normandy, and gather the army."
Robert was clearly captivated by the plan. His eyes were fixed on Ro on the map as he once again turned and ran upstairs.
Only this ti, he ran all the way to his room door, and Eric didn’t stop him. Robert seed to realize sothing. He looked back, then walked over to the edge of the gallery and saw Eric still standing downstairs.
"Aren’t you coming with , Outville?"
"I still have a few things to take care of."
"What, you need to go find friends and family for comfort before a rebellion? That’s what a woman would do."
"Maybe I’m going to warn them, you never know."
Eric shrugged, responding with a light laugh.
Of course, he was joking. He quickly added,
"But a man should see things through, from start to finish. Maybe one day, I might co back here again. If I keep on good terms with them, maybe I won’t end up holess."
Although he had only arrived at King’s Bridge Monastery at the beginning of last year, it had been almost two years now.
From his initial resentnt and disgust, he had now grown sowhat accustod to life in the Monastery.
Now that he had to leave so suddenly, he felt a little lost.
"You don’t seem worried at all about the consequences of defeat. Your father..."
Robert: "It doesn’t matter. My mother will step in anyway. ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶
Eric: "..."
’You motherfucker.’
’Jesus Christ, is this a rebellion or are we just playing house? Fine, fine, fine. So that’s how you’re gonna play it, is it? (╬￣皿￣)’
Just as Eric was cursing up a storm in his head, a golden badge was tossed over to him, and he caught it securely.
The badge was sowhat crudely made, but it was still quite good for the technical standards of the Middle Ages. One side of the badge was imprinted with two lions—the coat of arms of the Normandy Clan.
"The next ti we et, I will formally make you a Knight. I hope your performance won’t disappoint , Eric. I’ve always felt that we’re on the sa side. Don’t betray my trust."
Robert, who had been so carefree until now, suddenly grew serious.
With that, Robert walked briskly toward his room, but a mont later, he rushed out again in a hurry. Wringing his hands, he called out to Eric with so embarrassnt.
"Eric."
"What is it now?"
"Um, could you lend so money? I gambled it all away last night. Don’t worry, I swear by the miracles of the Lord of Heaven, the mont I’m back in Normandy and my mother sends the money, I’ll pay you back right away. (*╹▽╹*)"
Eric: "... (ŎдŎ;)"
’Is it too late to run for it? I feel like I can’t carry this guy.’
...
For a woman born into the Nobility, having a father who allows his daughter to decide her own marriage is a blessing. Emma should probably consider herself fortunate.
But just because her father allowed her to decide for herself didn’t an he wouldn’t offer his opinions on her choice of husband.
This gave her a headache, because every so often her father would arrange for a few n for her to choose from, but she had no desire to marry right now.
Of course, that was sothing she could never tell her father.
「In a room within Xialing Castle.」
Across from Emma sat a serious-looking, middle-aged Priest. He was an unscheduled visitor, and his arrival had interrupted her reading ti.
Usually, when her father arranged for soone, he would notify her in advance to prepare. But not this ti. Moreover, the man hadn’t co himself, sending a Priest instead. This candidate’s Identity was very noble: Yuge of Vimont, the brother of the King of France.
In this era, a man’s greatest glory and calling card was being related to the King.
It made her feel like a broodmare being appraised by a future buyer.
Since she had no desire to marry, whatever the Priest said went in one ear and out the other.
What interested Emma most right now was the new book resting by her hand. It was a gift from her father’s secretary, that respectable Monk. He had supposedly stumbled upon it in a nearby Monastery library—a new book that had not yet been widely copied.
The book was undoubtedly of the knightly genre, but the plot was rather bizarre. He’d found it amusing to read, so he transcribed a copy and gave it to her as a gift.
At first, she felt so disgust for the book. She couldn’t understand how the people in it dared to mock a Knight in such a way. The author had such a cruel heart to ridicule a Knight who was, by all accounts, perfect.
Would God really be so heartless as to fool a man of such Devotion? The protagonist was clearly far kinder and braver than most real-life Knights.
Perhaps the secular world was just that sinful sotis. Those of noble character failed to achieve the success and status they deserved, were denied honor, and might even be scorned and mocked.
"Miss Emma, Miss Emma."
"Hm? What is it?"
Snapping out of her daze, Emma looked up at the Priest.
"Can you read?"
"Of course I can." Finding the question insulting, Emma couldn’t help but raise her voice.
Father Louis raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised. There was no "of course" about it: not all won of the Nobility were literate.
Emma realized her words had given an impression of arrogance. She tried to appear friendlier and added, "My father taught to read when I was very young, just before my brother was born."
Over a plate of fresh sea bass, just pulled from the ocean and cooked in cider, Father Louis began to probe Emma’s intellectual accomplishnts. With obvious skepticism, he asked, "And what do you usually read, Miss?"
Her previous answer had clearly provoked him. His tone suggested he found it hard to believe that a young woman with Charm could also comprehend literature.
’A man like that is truly best suited to be a Priest. If any woman were to beco his wife, she’d surely be tornted to death.’
"I like books that tell stories. Poetry, epics, novels about Knights, that sort of thing," she said.
"For example?"
"Don Qui—"
Emma almost unconsciously held up the book in her hand to show him, but she stopped herself. Doing that would be giving him exactly what he wanted.
"’The Song of Roland,’" Emma recited woodenly. "’Holy Knight Roland’s refusal to yield, even under the blades of the Muslims, is sothing I admire.’"
"’Indeed it is,’ Father Louis said, but his voice was still laced with skepticism.
"’The story of Saint Yulalia is also very moving,’ she continued in the sa flat tone. ’In the end, she transford into a dove and ascended to Heaven.’"
"’Yes,’ Father Louis said. ’You are very well-educated, Miss.’"
He seed completely oblivious to her wooden delivery.
Emma felt as if she had just passed an examination. She wondered if Father Louis’s condescending attitude had been a deliberate attempt to provoke her. She was glad she hadn’t taken the bait.
"’Thank you for saying so,’ she said, not entirely sincerely. ’My younger brother has a tutor, and I’m allowed to sit in on his lessons, as long as I remain quiet.’"
"’Very good. Not many girls know so much. But as for , I primarily read the holy scriptures.’"
"’Of course.’"
Emma couldn’t care less about his opinion, her eyes falling back to the book in her hands.
’Let this be over soon,’ she chanted in her mind.
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