Once my early morning guard duties had concluded and I’d reached a stopping point with my other routine tasks, I took lunch in the large dining hall for palace staff. Paperwork had kept me busy longer than expected, and by the time I arrived, people were already a little sparse.
Half a year had passed since His Majesty King Sighart had slain the tyrant and freed the kingdom from the clutches of evil. The country had been in disarray in the wake of the sudden revolution, but thanks to the capable leadership of His Majesty and those under him—along with aid from Her Majesty Queen Natasha’s homeland of Mokhia—things had settled down considerably. There was still no end to the work required to keep the country running, of course, but I’d begun finding myself with more free time than I’d had in those early days.
That said, I spent most of my spare hours up in the tower—in fact, my own quarters were beginning to collect dust. Lord Heinreid, with a harried air, had tried to tell me that I needn’t visit quite that often; I’d pressed him, asking whether he had something to hide from me. “Hmm, do I? What do you think?” had been his taunting reply. The exchange was still fresh in my memory. At the time, I’d merely reflected anew on his despicable character, but in hindsight, perhaps it had been a ploy to keep me from noticing that he’d lost weight.
Memories of his body in my arms last night flickered through my mind. With his reduced muscle mass, he’d felt a little smaller and frailer than before. When I’d held him down, pinning that slender body firmly in place as he’d struggled against the excess pleasure, I’d occasionally felt like I was pushing him too far. But the sight of those dark-flecked scarlet eyes that had once coldly glared down at me, now wavering and melting under my hand, had made me all the more...
THUD.
I slammed my head down onto the table, producing a far louder noise than I’d expected. My thoughtless display caused a sudden stir around me, but any contrition at disturbing others was far outweighed by my inner discomfort.
It’s barely afternoon, damn it! What the hell am I fantasizing about?!
Admonishing myself inwardly, I clutched at my stinging brow and somehow managed to lift my head. As I did, someone pulled out the empty chair by my side.
“Hey, that you, Craig? What’s up?” the man asked in a concerned tone as he sat down next to me. “If you’re not getting enough sleep, you oughta go take a nap instead of grabbing lunch, don’tcha think?”
I turned toward the voice.
“Sir Schmidt... No, I’m all right. Sorry to disturb you.”
“Nah, no worries—as long as you’re okay, it’s all good. Anyway, I keep telling you, just call me Sven!”
This man, smiling cheerily as he started on his own lunch, was Sven Schmidt. During the days when evil had still reigned, he’d been the leader of an underground militia plotting their own rebellion against the king. There’d been a few such militias, but the one he’d led had been primarily composed of younger commoners, and they’d been an invaluable help to then-Prince Sighart as he’d mustered up forces to fight from the inside.
On the strength of those accomplishments, Sir Schmidt had earned a prominent position among the royal knights. The stuffy formalities of the role didn’t sit well with him, though, and he would routinely complain to me as his colleague. We’d gotten to talking more and more, and at some point, the two of us had become close. Honestly, my history serving that duke had left me a little—no, more than a little alienated from my peers, and I suspected that he’d initially approached me out of concern. He wasn’t any older than me, but he had a knack for looking after others.
“Still, you’ve gotta be pretty tired out, right?” he asked, biting into a bread roll he’d dipped into his soup. “I mean, on top of everything else, they’re making you keep an eye on that impostor... Pretty mean of Sig—uh, of His Majesty, if you ask me. Of all the people he could’ve stuck with that guy, it didn’t have to be you, did it?”
Sir Schmidt’s words must have been founded in the camaraderie he’d developed with His Majesty during their time fighting together, but even so, he was being a touch disrespectful. Besides, he’d misunderstood the situation to begin with.
“No... His Majesty isn’t at fault. I’m actually the one who insisted I be given the role.”
“Huh?”
All I’d done was clarify matters, but for some reason, Sir Schmidt looked troubled. He swallowed down the mouthful of food he’d been chewing, then addressed me in an undertone.
“Hey, you’re not gonna tell me those rumors are true, are you?”
“What rumors?” I asked back, utterly confused.
He briefly scanned our surroundings, making certain that no one was nearby, then lowered his voice still further.
“They say Craig Bauer’s furious about that evil duke disappearing, and he’s taking it all out on the impostor, torturing him night after night.”
“I would never!!!” I yelled at him reflexively, alarmed by the ridiculous words I’d just heard.
Sir Schmidt jolted upright in his chair. People around us were glancing our way to see what the new commotion was; he hurriedly apologized to them, assuring them that it was nothing, really, before turning back to me.
“Look, man, I’m sorry!” he said placatingly. “You don’t gotta shout...”
“My apologies... I hadn’t heard those rumors—your words simply caught me by surprise.”
I regained a little composure, inwardly chastising myself for drawing unwanted attention twice in one day.
In any case, where on earth did that rumor get started, and when? No, given my position, it’s not that surprising that people would speculate, I suppose. Actually, in a way, the truth is even more absurd... So stop thinking lecherous thoughts in the middle of the afternoon!
I gave a self-loathing sigh, clutching my head in my hands.
“H-Hey, c’mon—don’t get so down, okay?” Sir Schmidt had mistakenly concluded that he was to blame for my low spirits. “I was being insensitive. It’s just a stupid rumor that’s popped up lately—it’s not like I believed it or anything. I just... Here, y’know what? I’ll give you these as an apology.”
He held out a small paper bag. I accepted it, staring at it in puzzlement.
“What’s this?”
“They’re cookies from this sweetshop that just opened up on Third Avenue. They’re real tasty, but Yulia, the shopgirl, kept pushing me to buy more, and I ended up with way too many...”
“Didn’t the girl at the bakery use the same trick on you the other day?”
“Yeah, yeah, you got me!” replied my friend, apparently an easy mark. “Anyway, if you don’t mind taking some cookies off my hands, please, go for it. You don’t get into town much, right? It’ll do you good to try new things!”
I didn’t have the heart to shove his gift back at him, so I opened the bag and gave a cookie a taste. I bit into it with a light crunch. It was sweet, but not overbearingly so; as the flavor slowly spread through my mouth, my eyes widened slightly in surprise.
Huh. Aggressive sales tactics aside, these really aren’t bad.
“They’re tasty,” I said.
“Right? Sweet stuff’s good for when you’re tired too.”
At some point while I’d been distracted, he’d somehow finished his meal. He stood up from his seat with a friendly “See ya!”
“Sir Schmidt!” I quickly called out as he turned to go. “Thank you.”
“Sure thing. But call me Sven!”
He turned back over his shoulder, smiling cheerily at me, and I waved a hand goodbye.
I wasn’t especially tired, but all the same, it was good to have a caring friend thinking of me. Feeling a little awkward about it all, I glanced down at the paper bag he’d given me.
I wonder, does His Lordship like sweets?
Despite my visits growing more frequent, I would often just barely miss him at mealtimes, and lately, Karl Anker had ended up fully in charge of his meals. I hadn’t been able to share breakfast or lunch with him today either, but at this point in the afternoon, he might just be getting a little peckish. I was also concerned about him losing weight—the cookies were perfectly timed, really.
So went my thoughts as I came up with excuses. I had a little time before my next shift began, so I took the opportunity to make my way to the tower.