I am Desmond Ronan, the Second Knight Commander. Last year, I succeeded the family head as the eldest son of the Ronan family.
In the noble system, everything is inherited by the eldest son. And the Ronan family is among the upper echelons of the nobility.
As the eldest son of a count, a knight commander, and with a decent appearance and robust health, I was very popular with women from a young age, just by looking at my resume.
Yet, for some reason, my childhood fiancée chose my younger brother over me.
My brother, who was not expected to inherit the title, had an ordinary appearance and was rather frail, a common civil servant.
This was a clear choice between two options.
Either there was something seriously wrong with my inner self, or all women were untrustworthy. Of course, I chose the latter without hesitation.
And I have never regretted that choice.
◇◇◇
"If you could choose only one person to stand next to you on the battlefield, who would you choose?"
It's a silly question.
If I could choose anyone, I would choose Cyril Sutherland, the First Knight Commander.
His sword skills are extraordinary.
What is perfected often appears simple and easy.
In other words, Cyril's sword techniques look very basic and straightforward from the outside.
His precise and swift strikes, which hit the enemy's vital points without a single mistake and cut them down, seem extremely simple.
Cyril often wears a faint smile when he gets excited.
When he does, it's his show. He will continue to cut down enemies until no one is left standing.
Therefore, Cyril's smile on the battlefield is called the "Smile of Death" and is seen as a signal that he is about to begin his slaughter. When he smiles, his allies all feel that victory is assured and cheer inwardly.
Cyril shows unparalleled bravery on the battlefield, but he is also competent in the office. Thanks to his education from a young age, he handles paperwork with ease.
However, his subordinates have been worried recently because Cyril has been absent-minded and lacking energy for a few days. They came to me for advice, and since I knew the reason, I decided to take over the case and check on him.
That night, Cyril and I had a secret meeting in the exclusive entertainment room for commanders and deputy commanders within the royal castle.
We were the only two people in the large room.
We ignored the chess and billiard tables and just kept drinking.
Watching him, I noticed that Cyril repeatedly drank the amber liquid in front of him in one gulp and then ordered the same drink again.
"Hey, if you're going to drink at that pace, you might as well order two or three at a time, right?"
I couldn't help but give him some advice as I stared at his instantly empty glass.
Cyril glanced at me from under his lowered eyelashes.
"I don't drink in such an unpleasant way."
Ah, right. The head of the leading ducal family is always a stickler for manners.
I shrugged and picked up my glass.
"Well, you know, sometimes a man just needs to drink. I'll keep you company, so drink as much as you want."
"Hmm, that's unusually sympathetic of you. Yes, I'd like to drink all night. I feel like I need to drink like a waterfall tonight."
Cyril said with a self-deprecating tone, still looking down.
"You probably won't get drunk no matter how much you drink. Seriously, being too good with alcohol is a problem too."
I said, drained my glass, and asked the server for a new one.
...Fine. I'll match you glass for glass tonight.
Drinking the same amount as Cyril is a daunting task.
Even though I'm showing incredible manliness right now, Cyril doesn't seem to notice and pouts.
"Since you're being sympathetic, can't you be a bit nicer? I'm really hurt right now."
Ah, I know. But half of the pain is something you keep to yourself.
And I bet you won't reveal your true feelings tonight either?
Knowing this, I decided to tease him.
"What a coincidence. I'm also in shambles thanks to the new recruit in your unit. Ah, my glorious career as a military police commander is useless now. What am I supposed to rely on from tomorrow?"
Cyril is not stupid. He understands my intention to joke and plays along.
In other words, he has no intention of sharing his true feelings.
"You have many single knights who admire you. You know, you are well-respected because you have a high status, a good appearance, and are capable, but you lost your fiancée to your brother, so you are admired by single knights who believe that 'there is no royal road to love.' Lucky you. I don't know about your popularity with women, but at least you are popular with some knights."
"Hey, this is where I should be angry, right? You just completely dissed me, didn't you?"
Cyril laughed softly, drained his glass, and ordered the same drink again.
"I'm envious. My direct subordinate called me 'bastard' to my face."
"...Ah, well, that's unavoidable. He probably didn't mean it personally."
"...Yes, but it still hurts."
Cyril leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, and rested his head on the back of the chair. Then he closed his eyes lightly.
I silently watched him, drained my glass, and ordered the same drink.
And I sighed inwardly.
...No, that's not it. What you're enduring is something different.
I also leaned back deeply into my chair, crossed my legs and arms, and sighed deeply.
--- The royal family's obsession with the Holy Maiden is not normal.
It took centuries to elevate the Holy Maiden to the highest position.
If one were to judge that this is distorted and not the right form, the royal family would be condemned. Cyril, who is high in the line of succession, would also be included.
Of course, Fia, who said this, probably didn't understand it at all...
I took a sip from the new glass I was given.
Then I glanced at Cyril, who had his eyes closed.
--- I have never seen anyone fall in love at first sight.
But I have seen a moment when a single word felt like a sword piercing the heart... or so I think.
Cyril has revered and worshipped the Holy Maiden since birth.
The power to heal wounds on the battlefield. Those who have experienced war know how invaluable this is.
Especially Cyril, a seasoned hero who has traversed countless battlefields with the Grand Commander.
No one understands the value of this more than he does.
And no one has thought more about the nature of the Holy Maiden than Cyril.
Cyril will never say it out loud.
But he must feel a strong sense of dissonance after interacting with and observing the Holy Maiden.
He must be more frustrated than anyone else by the gap between the idealized Holy Maiden created by the royal family and the real Holy Maiden.
What did Fia say to Cyril, who was tormented by this unspoken conflict?
"Do you want to make the Holy Maiden a goddess? To enshrine her and worship her as a deity?"
She said this with a laugh, as if it were the funniest thing in the world.
And she declared it wrong.
"The Holy Maiden is not a distant, capricious being who only offers salvation occasionally. The Holy Maiden is the shield of the knights."
The moment Fia said this, Cyril looked as if he had been stabbed in the heart.
Or as if he had received a divine revelation.
At that moment, Fia's words must have become Cyril's answer.
After a long time of thinking, wavering, and seeking, the young knight provided Cyril with the answer to his question in a simple way.
She laughed as if it was absurd that he couldn't see such a simple truth.
Probably, Cyril can't move from this answer.
No matter what he hears or feels from now on, he will continue to hold onto this answer as a knight's true calling.
"Fia is terrifying..."
I muttered without realizing it.
She slips into the hearts of cautious knights.
And she drops an anchor that can't be moved.
As proof, Cyril has never once mentioned the form of the Holy Maiden that Fia described.
The shock was too great, and the content was too close to his core, making it impossible to even discuss.
All he talks about is the ridiculous story of being insulted by Fia.
How did the red-haired girl, walking aimlessly under the moonlight, appear to Cyril?
The image of her walking barefoot, holding a shoe in each hand, singing whimsically, and laughing.
--- I'm glad I don't trust women. My soul is safe!
I remember thinking this with a drunk mind.
"--- Yes, she is a terrifying child to insult her superior to her face."
Cyril replied, pretending to misunderstand.
--- Fine. If you can't even discuss it, I'll play along with your nonsense.
As we drank glass after glass, talking intermittently, Cyril finally spoke up after a long silence.
"The Grand Commander... ..."
But he hesitated and then shook his head as if to reconsider.
"No... it's nothing."
--- Ah, right.
There was one person who was even more obsessed with the Holy Maiden than Cyril. ...The Grand Commander.
Thinking about the impact one young knight had on the knight order made me feel a chill.
"Cyril! Let's drink tonight! I just can't go on without drinking! I don't even want to be sane!!"
I suggested, feeling helpless.
Cyril smiled beautifully.
"That's what I want, Desmond. Please get me drunk tonight."
--- Get you drunk?
That's impossible, even if I make you drink all the alcohol in this room.
I thought this but didn't say it out loud because I'm not a fool.
We drank all night, and in the end, we ended up with a second knight commander who looked like a rotting corpse and a first knight commander who looked as fresh as ever.
The next morning, I was in the upper-class entertainment room, where the sun was shining, and I was making a weak, hoarse sound.
"Cyril, the problem is your tolerance... So stop looking at me like I'm a lower form of life..."
But Cyril continued to look at me, his colleague who had stayed up all night to keep him company, as if I were a lower form of life.