Chapter 67
And what directly replaced his eyes now were the gazes of the people of the domain surrounding Arzeletta.
Those who were bowing their heads before the lord were flustered.
The reason for their bewilderment was clear.
They didn’t think they had done anything wrong.
The lord swiftly leapt down from his horse. The black military boots that landed on the ground gleamed. Arzeletta, with her head bowed, fixed her gaze on the familiar shoes of the man.
Like a beast crawling on the ground, Arzeletta, who always had to face Ragnar with her head lowered, knew his shoes best of all.
Step, step. The heavy boots walked forward. As it was dry earth beyond the brush, the man’s footsteps sounded even rougher and harsher.
“What is this commotion about, Robinson.”
The man who made everyone kneel just by appearing slowly opened his mouth. His voice held no sense of urgency.
Old man Robinson, who sold brassware, lifted his head at Ragnar’s question.
His expression, which had seemed stern and angry, showed a hint of relief at the lord’s calm tone. Robinson, who had long protected the domain and was an enthusiastic supporter of Ragnar, looked honored just by hearing his name remembered and spoken by him.
“Ah, my lord. We were wrong. We’ve caused a commotion on such a blessed day.”
The crouched Arzeletta flinched slightly at her fingertips again.
Commotion.
They were referring to this violence as a commotion. That was the lord’s declaration, and no one could dispute it.
“With the seasonal festival still far off, we got carried away with the festive mood…”
“Excitement dulls reason. Robinson, as one with age and wisdom, shouldn’t you have calmed the villagers?”
“Oh, you are absolutely right!”
An overwhelmed Robinson bowed again, as if in reverence.
“You say the butcher is taking a bride?”
At Ragnar’s words, those crouched at his feet laughed. The only ones not laughing were Yoseph, blinking in fear, and Arzeletta.
“Then we must choose an auspicious day. He is, after all, our only precious butcher in the domain.”
“We thought that today, with the visit of the Grand Duchess, would be such a joyful occasion…”
“All weddings must go through the Temple of Deputies, so they should receive an official date.”
“But, my lord! You mean to say even such lowly beings should be allowed to marry on a holy day at the temple?”
A woman wearing an apron questioned Ragnar, her expression truly one of indignation.
“The temple will be defiled.”
“She’s right. Giving a sacred date to the mating of beasts?”
At someone’s words, the kneeling villagers snickered.
“If we gave a holy day every time livestock mated, they’d forget they’re animals.”
They laughed as if it were a clever joke. The laughter was vicious.
“What do you think?”
Ragnar asked. At first, no one realized the question was directed at Arzeletta.
No one had ever asked her opinion before.
“What do you want to do, maid?”
Only then did Arzeletta flinch and lift her head. Even crouching low on the ground, she had to look up a long way to see Ragnar’s face.
Arzeletta tilted her head back. She had to do so to meet the eyes of the man so far above her. It really was like looking upon a god.
Arzeletta swallowed her breath at Ragnar’s violet eyes directed toward her.
The lord’s gaze was not cold. It was different from what she had expected, different from the sting she had felt on her skin.
It was the opposite, in fact.
She could feel it—Ragnar’s gaze, as it looked upon her, was boiling.
Arzeletta swallowed dryly. She was afraid. She could endure coldness, but the heat within his gaze frightened her.
She clutched the front of her rags tightly, which could not even cover her body. The rags had only been thrown on her for mockery’s sake—her white shoulders and legs were exposed, and the dark scar on her back was clearly visible beneath the loosely layered fabric. Everything about Arzeletta was laid bare for their eyes to see, as if she were an exhibit.
She didn’t know what to say or how to say it. Ragnar’s burning gaze—directed only at her—could only be interpreted as either anger or contempt. To someone like that, what could she possibly say?
“Do you wish to receive the marriage chalice with Yoseph?”
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