SOTBW - 61

When Maximón was mentioned, the knights immediately closed their mouths and stepped back. Najane, pushed by Jacob, quickly escaped out of the lounge. She could hear the knights grumbling resentfully inside. Najane quietly asked Jacob in a small voice.

“Did he really ask for me?”

“Of course not, that’s a lie.”

Jacob’s blunt reply made Najane awkwardly laugh, as if she had expected it.

“You’re quite the topic right now. Everyone has a mountain of questions they want to ask you. Instead of lingering here, it’d be better to either return to the manor or go to the Commander’s office and help him.”

“What’s the Commander doing right now?”

“Paperwork, catching up on backlog.”

Jacob seemed uninterested in speaking further and entered the lounge. The door to the lounge slammed shut with a loud sound.

Left alone in the hallway, Najane looked at the noisy lounge for a moment before slowly turning away. She had hoped that this would be a good opportunity to get closer to the knights, but she had ended up answering none of their questions. The only knight she was close to was Daniel.

She wasn’t good with alcohol; even one glass of wine could get her drunk, and she wasn’t the type to shamelessly engage in crude talk among men. As a result, she had always felt out of place among the rough knights of Romsoa. There were many days when even having a conversation seemed out of reach, and she had never spoken to some of the knights at all.

Reluctantly, Najane left the dormitory. Outside, several carriages, which hadn’t been there earlier, were lined up in front of the Order’s headquarters. They were merchant carriages. Servants were unloading boxes filled with goods, counting the quantities, and then transporting them by cart. The boxes mostly contained potatoes and radishes.

Soon, there would be nothing but potato stew, Najane thought as she glanced at the uncovered carts. She made eye contact with a merchant with a beard, who quickly approached her and greeted her. Najane was taken aback by the merchant’s overly polite attitude. She had only intended to take a quick walk around the area and leave, but somehow ended up exchanging greetings.

“Do you need anything? We carry more than just food ingredients; we also have shields and spears. In fact, we’ve just brought in some items from the capital, and we have a shield that would be perfect for a knight like you.”

“No, I’m…”

Najane waved her hand to decline, but the merchant immediately held up a shield designed to be strapped to the arm and approached her.

“Take a look at this. It’s a shield used by the Royal Guard. It’s sturdy but lightweight, and it’s a popular item among female knights. Would you like to try it? I guarantee it’s half the weight of the one you’re using.”

Reluctantly, Najane took the shield. It was indeed light. It had been made of wood and covered with a thin sheet of iron, making it light. But this wasn’t something that would hold up in a fight with Seriths.

It might block a few strikes from a smaller, weaker attacker, but it would crack and break quickly. She forced a smile and handed the shield back to the merchant.

“It’s a bit much for me. It would be better if a more suitable owner used this shield.”

“If it’s the price, I can give you a discount. It’s usually around one hundred livres…”

The merchant quickly scanned Najane’s appearance.

“Eighty, eighty livres, how about that?”

He clearly wanted to sell it to her. But Najane calmly refused.

“My current shield is still in good condition, so I don’t need a new one. Thank you for showing me such a fine product, but I’ll pass for now. If I have a chance later, I might come back.”

“Wait, wait, just a moment, miss! I have other items! Let me show you something else!”

The merchant tossed the shield aside and now approached with a bundle of fabric. Najane, growing frustrated with his persistence, made her way toward the headquarters, intending to escape, hoping he wouldn’t follow her.

But, of course, some servants were carrying boxes of paper into the headquarters’ storage. The merchant, following the servants, naturally entered the building. Laughing with his yellowed teeth showing, the merchant approached her again with the fabric.

“Miss, take a look at this.”

“Hey, come on…”

Najane finally expressed her irritation. The merchant, pretending to bow in submission, continued to speak.

“Please, just hear me out, miss. I just want to recommend some good products to you.”

“I’m not planning to buy anything. Please leave. Do you harass all the knights like this?”

Najane turned her back on the merchant and started climbing the stairs. The merchant didn’t seem brave enough to follow her up, so he stood at the bottom of the stairs, gazing up at her with longing.

“Miss, this is normally a product supplied to nobles. We’ve only brought enough fabric to make one outfit. In the winter, when knights wear padded clothing, it makes their arms and legs sluggish, right? But this fabric has wool on the inside… Miss, Miss!”

The merchant desperately called out to Najane. However, she, deeply annoyed, fled into the hallway on this floor. He must have thought she was an easy target just because she was a female knight. If she had been a bulky male knight, he would’ve just offered a polite greeting and left.

She should have avoided him the moment he tried to sell her that awful shield, claiming it was something the Royal Guard used, offering it for a cheap price.

Najane let out an irritated sigh. She had entered the headquarters to avoid the merchant’s harassment, but now she had nowhere to go. She wandered aimlessly down the hallway, unsure of where to go.

But just as she reached the end of the hallway, the door to the Commander’s office suddenly swung open. Startled, she looked up at Maximón. Meeting Maximón had not been part of her plan... Flustered, Najane snapped her mouth shut, looking foolish.

Maximón looked down at her and then glanced around the empty hallway. Voices from downstairs continued to rise up the stairs. He stared at her again, a look of certainty on his face, as though he was sure she had come to see him.

“Come in.”

Maximón opened the door wide. Najane, unable to tell him she hadn’t come to see him, hesitated. If he knew how she had just been bothered by that rude merchant, he would probably have no hesitation in beheading him, then present his head to her like some trophy.

She didn’t want to ruin her rare day off with bloodshed. Was this how it felt when you avoid a fox and end up facing a tiger?

Unable to go back, she reluctantly entered the Commander’s office. The desk was piled high with papers. Jacob’s words came back to her: “He’s catching up on backlog paperwork.” With so much to do, he had been slacking off all this time.

She had thought him to be a superhuman who could handle anything effortlessly, but it seemed he wasn’t very good at handling administrative work. Without thinking, Najane walked up to the desk and picked up a sheet of paper. It was filled with the names of those who had sponsored the Romsoa Knights.

“Stop standing and sit down.”

Maximón brought a chair next to the desk. Najane quickly placed the paper down and asked politely.

“Is there anything I can help with?”

“Help, huh...”

Maximón skimmed through the papers that Jacob had sorted, pushing the ones with sponsorship amounts toward Najane.

“Just fill in the blank spaces with the names and amounts of the sponsors.”

The rough paper had names and amounts written monthly for each sponsor. There were names that seemed to belong to nobles, merchants, individuals, and even anonymous donors. As Najane flipped through the papers, she tilted her head.

“Is there a reason we need to organize this?”

“There’s a thank-you party at the end of the year. Only people who have donated over ten thousand livres to each knight order will be invited. To be honest, though, it’s just a bunch of nonsense.”

Every year, a party was held under the pretext of thanking sponsors, but the money spent on this absurd spectacle was no small amount, and Maximón often complained about it.

However, since every knight commander was a noble, it was unrealistic to cancel the event just based on Maximón’s complaints. The so-called thank-you party was really just a playground for nobles who, under the guise of gratitude, restrained their lavishness while trying to appease the king.

Najane felt similarly uncomfortable with the party talk. Some people were out in the field, fearing for their lives every day, while others were preparing for a year-end party. She appreciated the sponsors’ kindness, but the Noctis Fortress was a legitimate battlefield.

“Who suggested something like this?”

Najane asked, sounding incredulous.

“The Eschus Order.”

Maximón frowned as he thought about the brainless noblemen who occasionally pushed their subordinates into battles with the Holy See just to maintain their dignity. Eschus was a thorn in his side.

She already knew that the commander of the Eschus Order, Curis, frequently met with Lucas. Lucas, trying to keep Maximón in check, had Edwin use his father’s money to sponsor the Eschus Order.

It was clear that at the year-end party, they would openly try to irritate Maximón. Or perhaps Maximón would beat Curis so badly that he wouldn’t even be able to attend. If Curis didn’t die from the beating, it would be quite impressive.

“Do you also attend the party, Commander?”

“Just briefly during the day.”

Most of the prominent sponsors of Romsoa attended the year-end party, so as the commander of the knight order, Maximón had to make an appearance. Najane, while writing down numbers in the blank spaces, counted the days left until the end of the year.

“There’s almost a month left until the end of the year.”

“Why, do you want to go to the party?”

Maximón asked in a light tone. Najane flinched and shook her head vigorously.

“Huh? No. Not really.”

When Najane made a face of genuine distaste, Maximón chuckled softly.

“If you want to go, just say so.”

Instead of telling him that would never happen, she refocused on her work. Maximón didn’t mention the party again. The only sounds in the office were the crackling of the firewood and the scratching of pens on paper.

Najane glanced at Maximón while she moved the numbers onto a fresh sheet of paper with a neutral expression.

She was about to ask if his fiancée would be attending the party, but she quickly shut her mouth and dipped her pen back into the ink bottle. It felt like there was a thorn in her throat, but she was glad she hadn’t asked. She didn’t have strong feelings either way about Maximón.

She didn’t want to suddenly narrow the distance in their relationship with an unnecessary question.

On the other hand, she was relieved that Maximón didn’t seem to care much about his fiancée, Rachel. If he had held her in high regard, he wouldn’t have easily embraced Najane. She wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

Feeling a slight guilt towards Rachel, Najane rationalized it by telling herself that she had no other choice given the circumstances.

It was unfortunate for Rachel, but Najane still needed Maximón. And Maximón probably needed her as well. That was why he had been so humble and pleaded with her. The image of Maximón throwing away his pride and kneeling made her smile.

Maximón Elgort, helpless and so concerned with how others viewed him.

‘But, do you like Najane?’

‘No.’

Najane thought about the conversation between Gwyneth and Maximón. For a moment, a smile appeared on her face, then quickly faded.

When the clouds covered the sun, the area around the headquarters was shrouded in shadow. Najane looked at Maximón, whose face had fallen into shadow. What does he want from me? A question crossed her mind, but she quickly dismissed it.

The best way to avoid unnecessary thoughts was to keep her hands busy. She quickly checked the names of the sponsors and their contributions to ensure she hadn’t made any mistakes.

As the sunlight poured back through the window, Najane paused for a moment while tracing the names of the sponsors with her finger. One name stood out to her.

Kieron Vieto.

Najane put down her pen and urgently grabbed the paper. The organized document for each month had Kieron’s name on it without fail. Kieron had donated over five thousand livres every month, always at the end of the month. As she scanned the details, Najane’s mind froze.

Is Kieron a common name in the kingdom of Bastronia? If it’s not a coincidence...

“Do the major donors always attend the year-end party?”

Najane asked calmly. Maximón, who had been signing papers, looked up at her. He seemed puzzled by her bringing up the party again, but Najane’s expression was completely natural, as if she was just asking out of personal curiosity.

Maximón stared at her for a moment, then slid the signed paper aside and answered.

“Most of them do. In fact, some idiots donate just for the sake of attending that party.”

Putting down his pen, Maximón looked at her again.

“Seems like you’re interested.”

This time, Najane didn’t deny it.

Maximón’s gaze shifted to the sponsorship list Najane had been inspecting.

“Do you know anyone on the list?”

“No. That’s unlikely.”

She smiled brightly, but Maximón quickly saw through the lie. He barely suppressed a laugh that was about to burst out. It was obvious that Najane had reacted to the sponsor’s name. Who was it that made her so interested in the year-end party?

Maximón gave a sly smile as he picked up his pen.

“I hope you can make some time soon.”

“For what...?”

“I’m going to the black market.”

“The black market?”

Najane tilted her head in confusion. Why would they go there together? Maximón, without missing a beat, continued to scan the list of soldiers who had died in the field and smiled casually.

“You’ll find out when you come.”