Chapter 54
VII.
Extra : Caesar Valentin’s Story
This silence for my sin you did impute,
Which shall be most my glory
—William Shakespeare, Sonnet 83
“Newlyweds really do seem to have it best, don’t you think, Commander?”
It was the day after they arrived in the imperial capital, and Dillon Schultz, deputy to Caesar, made the remark as the latter was preparing to enter the palace.
Of course, Caesar had no intention of responding to such a pointless question. Dillon likely didn’t expect an answer either. As expected, accustomed to his superior’s intentional silence, Dillon began rambling on as he pleased.
“I’ve felt this from the very first time I met you, sir. You really are unbelievably lucky. I noticed that right away, and from that moment on, I clung to your coattails and never let go. Yessir.”
“……”
“But of course, luck comes to those with the skill to back it up, doesn’t it? They say the unlucky break their noses even when they fall backward. But our commander? He goes out on a rescue mission, turns out the hostage is His Highness the Crown Prince, and then suddenly His Majesty the Emperor grants him a title. And then—what’s this? Thinking of marriage? And lo and behold, the lady who appears before him is the daughter of House Estern?! Tchh! This is what they call the embodiment of ‘some people are just born lucky’. Do you know how many knights in the Order idolize you, sir?”
From the time they first met as boys and throughout their mercenary days, Dillon had always been unmatched in his chatter.
Had his swordsmanship not kept pace with that nonstop mouth of his, Caesar would have kicked him out long ago. Unfortunately, Dillon was skilled enough that Caesar tolerated his ridiculous personality and even made him his right-hand man.
“Since your marriage, you’ve even looked brighter than before. It’s true, a man really does need to marry well! I’ve just now come to realize it. The moment I saw the two of you getting out of the carriage yesterday, I felt it in my bones. Ah, so this is newlywed bliss! The perfect vision of man and woman united by love, the sacred example of a true household!”
As Dillon’s nonsense grew increasingly unbearable, Caesar found himself thinking, Do I really have to keep this guy as my deputy?
It was around that point that he realized why Dillon was chattering like a monkey struck by lightning.
“And so, wouldn’t our benevolent Margrave be willing to enlighten this poor bachelor on the profound mysteries of newlywed life…?”
In other words, he wanted to hear about Caesar’s married life, but was being extremely dramatic about it.
Having shared both the beginning and end of their mercenary life, Dillon was one of the few trusted aides Caesar had. So after marrying and relocating to the borderlands, Caesar left Dillon in the capital to be put to use.
In fact, while Caesar lived in the provincial estate, Dillon led the portion of the mercenary band that had been absorbed into House Valentin’s knights, handling affairs and intelligence gathering in the capital.
His only flaw was that busybody personality of his. Dillon Schultz was deeply displeased about being the only one of his comrades not to accompany his lord to the border and witness his married life firsthand.
And the only news he ever received from those comrades was vague: “The Commander and his lady are doing well.” “The Commander’s become a different man.” That was all he got—just enough to drive him mad.
“I don’t want to.”
Caesar, of course, knew exactly what Dillon wanted. If he just shared even a sliver of that time with Beatrice—those tender, heartwarming moments that still made his chest flutter upon recollection—his deputy would probably shut up.
But the truth was, even toward a trusted aide, Caesar didn’t want to reveal a single thing about his wife.
He couldn’t stand the idea of even the smallest bit of information about Beatrice—or the time he spent with her—becoming mere idle gossip.
And… how the hell would I even talk about that?
The mere thought of it made his ears burn red. Caesar quickly cleared his mind of thoughts of his wife.
The joy he’d felt for the first time in his life. Those dreamlike moments. That sensation of his heart nearly bursting from affection for someone.
No matter how close they were, he could never voice such private feelings to anyone.
“Why? Why not? Why don’t you want to? Huh?”
Dillon pestered him from behind as Caesar avoided his gaze.
Truth be told, the reason Dillon had heard so little about Caesar’s married life wasn’t just because he remained in the capital—it was also very much due to Caesar’s own doing.
By all rights, Caesar should have taken the lead and arranged a meal between Dillon and the core members of the knights with the Margravine.
After all, Beatrice was now the mistress of House Valentin, and the knights under Caesar’s command needed to know what kind of person she was, and she in turn would benefit from familiarizing herself with those under her.
So it made sense in every way that such a formal meeting should be arranged by him, the head of the house and commander of the knight order.
However, Caesar was deliberately skipping all such procedures of his own accord. For no other reason than the childish feeling that he simply didn’t want to show his precious wife to those damn bastards.
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