SN Chapter 16

'Nestor of Seacrag.'

Many people had witnessed her match against him. The reason people hadn't applied to serve under Rosaline until now was a widespread perception that she couldn't give them what they wanted most. They desired to meet a superior with exceptional swordsmanship and receive instruction. Even somewhat eccentric senior knights commanded high application rates if their skills were outstanding.

But the Rosaline known to everyone in the White Night Order was not particularly strong. Taciturn and diligent, yes—but from a house opposing Second Prince Rikardis, female on top of that, and weak to boot. No trainee knight would seek instruction from someone looked down upon even by lower knights. Yet as of yesterday, the perception permeating the entire White Night Order had shattered into pieces. Lower knight Nestor was one whose strength and technique harmonized powerfully. He was known as the strongest among lower knights of his age group, and yet...

And yet...

He'd lost his sword three seconds after the match began, fainted from the first strike in the second round, and—most shockingly—been carried off tucked demurely in the arms of an opponent ten centimeters shorter and considerably slighter than himself. His exit proved as shocking as her victory was striking.

"So that's why I came. You'll have to accept them, Dame Rosaline."

Raymond stood at the doorway holding the trainees' applications while Rosaline rummaged through her room. She bustled about the space for quite some time. Then she laid out three items on the table—a storybook, a ring bearing the Redvielle crest, and the macaron set Raymond had just brought her—crossed her arms, and frowned. She appeared to be deliberating intensely. Observing the furrow between her brows, Raymond interjected.

"What are you doing, Rosaline?"

"Sick call."

There was only one person she intended to visit. Nestor of Seacrag, whom she'd reduced to a half-dead state. Her awakening to the common sense that one should visit those one has injured was excellent progress—but the items on the table presented a problem. A storybook, the Redvielle family ring, a macaron set? Surely not.

"These aren't sick call gifts... are they, Rosaline? Please say no quickly. Hurry."

Raymond found himself wearing an unexpectedly serious expression. Rosaline nodded with a perfectly serene face. Correct. Sick call gifts.

"I read it in a book. For sick calls, bring flowers and a gift. Give something precious to wish for swift recovery."

A storybook and macarons count as precious items? What an adorable child! What a good child! Raymond covered his mouth with his hand and laughed, then resumed his serious expression.

"You can't give the ring. That's asking for marriage, that is."

"Ah."

Rosaline swiftly grabbed the ring and hung it on her necklace. She seemed disinclined to marry Nestor. After considerable deliberation between the two remaining items, she selected the macaron set. Admittedly, they were from an expensive, famous confectionery. Not exactly a fitting gift for a burly male knight, but—whatever. Who cares? If Rosaline gives it, he should accept it gratefully.

"Glory to Idelabheim who cleaves the Onyx Moon... I'm grateful for... the gift, Dame Rosaline. Adjutant Raymond."

"Idelabheim's glory upon you. How is your condition?"

Nestor accepted the pastel-packaged macaron set and bundle of yellow wildflowers pulled up by the roots with trembling hands. What was this combination of a box tied with pink lace ribbon and weeds still dropping soil from their roots? Was this woman mocking him? His expression clearly suggested as much. Nevertheless, his manner remained exceedingly polite. He bowed and accepted with both hands as if receiving a gift from His Imperial Highness.

"Thanks to your concern, I'm much better."

He didn't look better. His voice rasped roughly, and his face had gone completely haggard in just one day. The competitive spirit and confidence from before had vanished without trace.

"I wasn't concerned."

Rosaline answered immediately following his words. While his expression crumpled utterly, Rosaline remained as impassive as ever. Raymond, standing behind her, covered his eyes. Too much honesty. Once they left the sickroom, he'd absolutely have to teach her that such words were merely perfunctory...

Nestor was also thoroughly flustered. This woman really is mocking me. The thought wouldn't leave his mind.

"Ah, yes... I see..."

Not concerned, how fortunate... If one worries too much, one loses sleep, which is bad for the body... Nestor rambled incoherently. When he utterly failed to meet her eyes, Rosaline lifted his chin with her hand to make him meet her gaze. Both Nestor's and Raymond's eyes—observing this scene—widened. The gesture suited the phrase "Raise your head and look at me." She held his face and turned it this way and that, examining his injuries with her eyes.

"You're bruised."

"Yes! You yesterday... No, because I'm weak!"

"Bruises hurt."

"What? Yes, that's right. Bruises hurt!"

"Be careful."

Was she saying she'd beat him again if he got cocky? Both men silently recoiled in shock.

Rosaline moved the hand that had been holding his chin fixed and gently brushed aside the hair falling across his bruised face. Her hand moved unconsciously—the disarray had bothered her. Nestor had been trembling as if expecting to be struck, but wore a blank expression at her gentle touch.

"I'll worry, so recover quickly."

Raymond stared at Rosaline as if dumbfounded. In the silent space, the taciturn knight and one man formed a strange atmosphere. Starlight descended into Nestor's eyes. A breeze carrying flower fragrance through the open window seemed to blow softly. Raymond stood there like a sack of barley, witnessing this absurd situation. Nestor's face—covered in livid bruises—flushed red. With a face like a bruised radish, he barely squeezed out words of gratitude.

Raymond shook his head back and forth. He knew she'd done it without any particular feeling, but it looked very, well, suggestive. Like a male knight from some novel coaxing an innocent country woman. Innocent country woman Nestor gazed ardently at Rosaline until she left the sickroom.

The supposed patient attended devotedly to his visitor. He spread a handkerchief on the simple chair, arranged the wildflowers and weeds she'd pulled from the garden bed prettily in a vase, and personally peeled the precious fruits his comrades had brought as sick call gifts to present to Rosaline. Rosaline accepted them as if this were perfectly natural. Nestor watched her with a pleased expression throughout.

Rosaline's hands were full of sick call gifts Nestor had given her when she left the ward. She remarked with an excited expression that sick calls were truly wonderful things. Raymond asked in a tired voice.

"Earlier... what was that, Rosaline? With your hand... on Knight Nestor's face... you know."

"I conveyed my wishes for recovery."

Raymond closed his eyes briefly, then opened them. He desperately wanted to see Kallix, with whom he wasn't even particularly close.

The trainee knights who'd applied to serve under Rosaline clustered together in one corner of the training grounds. They were practicing sword swings when they spotted two figures—one man, one woman—walking toward them from a distance and hastily saluted. Rosaline. And the vice-captain's adjutant and her close friend, Raymond.

"Glory to Idelabheim who cleaves the Onyx Moon!"

Fifteen voices unified made the space ring resoundingly. Many trainee knights' eyes sparkled. Observing gazes brimming with expectation, Raymond smiled inwardly. He briefly recalled when Rosaline had been his trainee knight. Younger than now, with shorter hair than now, and more... intelligent than now... No, let's not think that far. Raymond gathered his thoughts and lowered his voice.

"Idelabheim's glory upon you all. Is everyone assembled?"

"Yes, Adjutant Raymond."

Fifteen people lined up in a row. Most were male knights, though two were women. Raymond handed the applications to Rosaline. As she turned each page, he indicated from behind—ah, that one's him, ah, this one's the second from the left. The applications contained various information: family house, motivation for applying, specialty areas, hobbies.

But this wasn't particularly necessary information for Rosaline. Though Rosaline hadn't spent long among humans, even that brief period had taught her one couldn't contain a person's complete information on a mere sheet of paper. Rosaline returned the documents to Raymond.

Rosaline's eyes swept across those standing with tense faces, then she stopped before the knight standing furthest left. She didn't know his name or house—he belonged to the portion she hadn't finished reading. Rosaline gazed quietly into the trainee knight's eyes. One second, two seconds, three seconds, ten seconds, thirty seconds, sixty seconds. The trainee knight receiving Rosaline's gaze felt his throat growing parched as time passed. The shadowed green eyes appeared as dark as the deepest part of a lake. Something seemed to ripple within them. Had he written something wrong on the application? If so, he fervently wished she would speak—scold him if necessary, but say something, anything.

After considerable time, Rosaline moved to stand before the second trainee knight. The first applicant exhaled a small sigh of relief and wished his fellow trainee well. But contrary to his expectation, Senior Knight Rosaline gave the second applicant one brief glance and immediately moved to the third.