Wheat and barley filled the warehouses of Ronheim Castle to bursting.
Everyone who had traveled to Arental—whether servant or knight—returned with as much grain as they could carry, purchased with funds from the sale of Vermis mushrooms. The bounty was staggering.
Mainz supervised the stacking of grain sacks in the warehouse, and the moment his work was finished, he rushed to find Callius with his report.
"How much grain did we acquire?"
"Even if we distributed it among all our people, it would last two weeks. Since bread isn't the staple in Ronheim, if we're careful with rationing, we could easily stretch it to a month."
Callius reviewed the income ledgers: profits from the Vermis mushroom sales, and the considerably more substantial proceeds from liquidating the Kavala treasures.
The mushroom income had been generous. But the treasure sales were extraordinary.
'The knights were paid handsomely for their trouble, yet we still have this much remaining...'
Callius was secretly astonished by the sheer amount.
What he didn't know—what only Chloe understood—was that if she had received the proper price for those treasures, the profit would have been dozens of times greater. But she had prioritized speed and discretion over maximum value.
Chloe gave Callius detailed orders on how to allocate the newfound wealth.
"Send additional knights and servants to purchase three months' worth of grain. Distribute what they bring immediately to the people, but store the full three-month supply separately for winter reserves."
"Understood, my lady."
"And pay all the knights their overdue wages—every last coin owed to them. If anyone prefers to receive payment in grain rather than coin, accommodate them."
"Yes, my lady."
Callius then summoned Knight Commander Hawick with additional orders.
"Recruit one hundred soldiers. From that number, select the thirty most talented and train them as knights. We're establishing a Second Order."
"Yes, my lord."
Though Hawick answered coolly, he was stunned internally.
The people of Ronheim were exceptionally skilled in martial combat—finding talented individuals to form a new knighthood wouldn't be difficult at all. In fact, they had enough capable warriors to fill the ranks twice over.
The problem had always been resources. For years, there had barely been enough to feed, clothe, and pay the existing soldiers and knights. Salaries were routinely delayed by months.
And yet Callius spoke of expanding their forces with such confidence...
'Is this truly sustainable? The Marchioness has generated considerable income through various means, but if that income can't be maintained in the future...'
Hawick's concerns must have been obvious, but Callius spoke with such certainty—as though he had some reliable plan for ongoing revenue—that the Knight Commander kept his doubts to himself.
"Oh, and replace all the unit members' old armor and weapons with new equipment."
"Yes, my lord."
Despite his lingering concerns about long-term sustainability, Hawick felt genuine excitement building in his chest.
New weapons. New armor. For everyone.
The thought of seeing his subordinates' faces when they received proper equipment brought an involuntary smile to his normally stone-faced expression.
Perhaps Callius wore a similar smile, thinking of the same thing.
The Marquis gave his final instruction to both Mainz and Hawick.
"The Marchioness has decreed that we hold a banquet tonight to honor the knights who successfully completed their missions. Eat and drink to your heart's content."
"Yes, my lord!"
"Understood, Master!"
Mainz and Hawick responded with matching enthusiasm before dispersing to spread the news.
Callius chuckled quietly as he watched them go, then rose from his seat.
Chloe had told everyone to enjoy the banquet to the fullest—but he himself had no such luxury.
'We must find a way to delay Chloe's curse.'
Even with everything else proceeding smoothly, this singular task left him anxious and desperate. How much longer could Chloe endure Kavala's curse when she already seemed so fragile?
She tried to hide how much weaker she was growing, but Callius knew. He saw exactly how much she was suffering.
Tonight, he would search his mother's private prayer room—the last place he suspected she might have kept hidden records.
If he didn't find answers there, there would be no way forward.
That evening, a magnificent banquet filled the great dining hall of Ronheim Castle.
The tables groaned under the weight of food—so many dishes that there was scarcely room to set another plate. The knights abandoned all pretense of dignity the moment they saw the spread.
Various types of bread. Fresh fruit. Dishes seasoned with exotic spices they rarely tasted. All of it disappeared at an alarming rate as the hungry knights filled their bellies.
Wine flowed from whole barrels. Rich foods normally reserved for holidays were served in generous portions.
The hall quickly transformed into something resembling a rowdy tavern, filled with boisterous laughter and shouted conversations.
"Everyone, drink up! Drink!"
"Pass the pepper here!"
"You know my birthday's coming up soon, right? I'm counting today as my birthday celebration!"
"What nonsense are you spouting, you idiot? Your birthday was three months ago!"
Pointless banter flew back and forth across the tables.
Some knights praised the chef's cooking with exaggerated reverence. Others were already staggering drunk, flushed and laughing too loudly.
The knights also caught up on each other's personal lives—inquiring about family matters with genuine interest.
"Herbar! I heard Martha's pregnant?"
"Haha! Looks like I'm going to be a father soon!"
"Wow, that was fast! How long has it even been since you returned to Ronheim?"
"By the way, Karl—about your sister. I think I saw Leviche with some man the other day. Does she have a sweetheart?"
"What?! I've never heard anything about that! What kind of man was he?"
A knight named Karl immediately grabbed his fellow knight Rudny by the collar.
"I've had my eye on Rudny as my future brother-in-law for ages!"
"Oh, I already told you I'm not interested!"
"What?! But you used to like my little sister!"
"That was when I was young!"
"Hey, Karl—Rudny's been eyeing Elche lately! I saw them talking!"
"Elche? Wait, which Elche? Alex's older sister Elche, or Elche the sharpshooter?"
"The sharpshooter!"
"What happened to constancy?! You said you liked my sister!"
"Like you said—that was when I was young!"
"Anyway, who was that man with Leviche? Did anyone actually hear anything useful?"
Karl looked around desperately and called out to Andrew, who sat a short distance away chatting with another group.
"Andrew! Is it true Leviche has a lover?"
Andrew chuckled and shrugged noncommittally.
"Why are you asking me about your sister?"
"You're saying you won't tell me? Haven't you heard anything from Hillen? Leviche and Hillen are close!"
"Well... nothing in particular."
When Andrew's sister Hillen was mentioned, the conversation shifted tone. Several knights nearby chimed in with concern.
"By the way, how is Hillen doing these days?"
Andrew's smile turned bitter.
"She's... holding steady. At least it's not getting worse."
"What can be done if it keeps hurting her like this?"
Many of the knights had grown up together in the same neighborhoods or were related as distant cousins. They knew each other's family circumstances intimately.
When Hillen's situation came up, several knights reached out to pat Andrew's shoulder and back in wordless sympathy.
It had been years now since Hillen—Andrew's beloved younger sister—had fallen ill with a terrible, wasting sickness. The knights all knew how many sleepless nights Andrew had spent worrying over her.
Even Alex, who generally disliked Andrew for being overly critical of the Marchioness, softened when it came to Hillen.
"Sister Hillen will recover soon. I'm sure of it."
Alex clinked his glass against Andrew's in a gesture of solidarity.
Andrew forced a laugh, raising his voice to dispel the somber mood.
"Come on, everyone—let's raise a toast to Herbar, who's about to become a father!"
"Yeah, cheers!"
The atmosphere returned to warmth and camaraderie.
After they had eaten and drunk for some time, thoroughly enjoying themselves, someone called out loudly over the din.
"By the way, why haven't we seen the Marquis yet?"
"He's running a bit late!"
"Oh, really?"
The hall was so loud that everyone had to shout to be heard over the general commotion.
Amidst all the noise and laughter, the dining hall door opened and closed quietly.
A small figure slipped inside and made her way silently toward the table of honor, moving as unobtrusively as possible.
She reached for the back of a chair, intending to sit down without fanfare—
—and the entire hall fell abruptly, shockingly silent.
Though the knights had all seemed completely absorbed in their revelry—oblivious to anything beyond their food and drink—every single one of them had noticed her presence the moment she entered.
They'd simply been pretending not to.
"Welcome, my lady Marchioness."
When Knight Commander Hawick rose first and greeted her formally, every other knight in the hall stood as well—suddenly sober and respectful, as though they had never been rowdy at all.
"Ah..."
Chloe, who had planned to slip in naturally and blend into the festive atmosphere, froze in place. The sudden silence that descended upon her arrival left her completely flustered.
She hadn't meant to kill the mood like this.
She had liked the warm, comfortable atmosphere. That was why she'd decided to sneak in and simply observe the knights enjoying themselves, without drawing attention.
'Maybe I shouldn't have come...'
Chloe felt immediate regret, but she kept her expression carefully neutral.
The truth was, she'd deliberated for quite some time about whether to attend at all. What finally convinced her was the noise drifting all the way up to the fourth-floor hallway—laughter and music that had piqued her curiosity as she sat alone in her room.
Now, standing before the suddenly silent hall full of formally standing knights, she swallowed nervously and asked Hawick in a tentative voice:
"Where... where is Callius?"
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