I came to the banquet hall hoping to make a natural entrance and share a cheerful conversation with the knights in the festive atmosphere—but what greeted me instead was absolute silence.
The restaurant became so quiet with my appearance that even the sound of breathing seemed unnaturally loud. I felt like crying.
I looked around for Callius, the only person who could help me navigate this disaster, but he was nowhere to be found.
"Where is Callius...?"
Hawick answered calmly, his expression revealing nothing.
"The lord said he would be late, my lady."
"Ah..."
No Callius.
Though I felt deeply embarrassed, I tried my best to maintain a calm expression and looked around at the assembled knights.
I surveyed the room full of wary faces and offered what I hoped was a warm smile.
"Please, everyone, sit comfortably and be at ease."
The knights slowly took their seats, but their eyes remained fixed on me with uncomfortable intensity.
"I appreciate all of your hard work for Ronheim. You've worked tirelessly to carry out your assigned missions. Please enjoy this evening—you've earned it."
I'd never done anything like this before, but I had watched my mother perform similar ceremonies when I was a child. The memory guided my words and gestures.
I sat down, feeling a small surge of pride that I'd managed to deliver the speech so naturally.
Usually, after finishing greetings like this, people would applaud and cheer, and the party would begin in earnest with music and laughter.
But unexpectedly, the knights neither applauded nor cheered.
There was only a brief, uncomfortable murmur when I took my seat.
I saw Hawick frown deeply and make a sharp warning gesture toward the muttering knights.
"Is there a problem?"
"No, my lady."
Hawick denied it with a serious, almost forbidding expression.
But I understood why the knights were in an uproar.
One day, when I'd been particularly upset by the knights' cold attitude, Mainz had tried to console me.
"Ronheim is a closed place, Madam. It takes a very long time for us to accept change—and it's the same with new people. It's not that they dislike you personally; they're simply naturally wary of strangers by upbringing and necessity. Please don't be too upset. Time will heal everything."
To the Ronheim people, who were already deeply suspicious of outsiders by culture and hard experience, I wasn't just an outsider—I was also the daughter of their ancient enemy.
Their wariness was bound to be even more intense and last far longer than usual.
"If you ask the lord to solve this problem for you, it will only backfire terribly."
Lamia had given me this advice when I'd been desperately wondering how I could earn acceptance in Ronheim.
If I tried to resolve this issue through Callius's authority, I would only provoke a backlash from them—they would think that I, who was already an awkward and unwelcome presence, was trying to manipulate Callius, whom they loved and respected, as I pleased.
For a brief moment, I seriously considered calling it a night—simply standing up, excusing myself politely, and retreating to my room where I could hide from all these hostile stares.
But after that moment of temptation passed, I made a different decision.
I would stay. I would be the clueless person who didn't know when to leave, if that's what it took.
I steeled myself and smiled warmly at the knights who seemed so visibly uncomfortable with my presence.
It was never easy to smile among people who didn't welcome you—whose every glance made it clear they wished you were somewhere else.
To be honest, I desperately wanted to run away.
But I couldn't just wander around like an unwanted stranger forever. I had decided to settle here, to make Ronheim my home, to be happy in this place.
"I want to spend time with all of you as well. I want to know what kind of people Callius values so highly."
Several knights coughed uncomfortably at my words, clearly discomfited by my decision to stay.
"We—we're deeply honored! Haha!"
Thankfully, Alex suddenly raised his glass high and shouted, clearly wanting to help break the awful tension.
"Did you all hear that? Let's have a toast to the Marchioness! A toast!"
It was an incredibly awkward gesture—stiff and uncertain.
He didn't seem very practiced at this sort of thing, but I was profoundly grateful that he stood up for me even though he clearly didn't know what to do.
The knights who had been automatically following Alex's lead and raising their own glasses in a daze suddenly noticed that I had no drink before me. They immediately began jeering at Alex with cruel amusement.
"Just sit still, fool. Why are you standing out like that when you clearly don't know what you're doing?"
Alex, who had been publicly scolded, turned bright red with embarrassment and bowed his head toward me.
"I'm so sorry, my lady...!"
"It's perfectly all right, Alex. Thank you for trying."
When I whispered softly to him, offering genuine gratitude, Alex blushed even more deeply and sat down weakly, looking utterly mortified.
I gestured to the servants, who were standing frozen and looking even more flustered than I felt.
One of them finally broke free from the paralyzed group and hurried to my side.
"Bring me a glass, please. I don't drink alcohol, so it would be better if you brought me something warm instead."
That was when it happened.
Before the servant could even reach the kitchen, Chef Latina appeared carrying a laden tray.
"Madam, I should have prepared this earlier. I sincerely apologize for the delay."
She placed before me an exquisite spread: milk tea generously sweetened with honey—a rare luxury that was supposedly almost impossible to obtain in Ronheim—along with delicate cookies, fresh fruit, and beautiful cake.
The crowning touch was a custard pudding decorated with aromatic herbs.
Latina smiled as she carefully set down the custard pudding with obvious pride.
"I heard from Lamia that you're particularly fond of pudding, Madam."
Latina—who had once been so reluctant to give me even a single spoonful of honey—had made me custard pudding with her own hands.
When I stared at the dessert with wide, astonished eyes, Latina spoke gruffly, as if embarrassed by her own kindness.
"Don't look so shocked, Madam. I made this with ingredients I purchased from selling the mushrooms and other goods you helped us harvest. It was a special request from Mainz, that's all."
"Thank you so much, Latina."
When I smiled at her with genuine delight and gratitude, Latina visibly flinched.
Then suddenly she raised her voice—clearly intending for every single knight in the hall to hear her words.
"You should all be thanking the Madam! Thanks to her wisdom and hard work, Ronheim's warehouses are now filled with food for the first time in years. What an incredible blessing! Thanks to her, no one in Ronheim will starve this winter—everyone will be able to survive with full bellies for once! I'm deeply grateful to her!"
The content of her speech was clearly filled with sincere gratitude, but her voice rang with righteous anger.
She turned to glare at the assembled knights with fierce eyes.
"I also heard that the Madam personally took care of the overdue wages for all the knights gathered here tonight. Is that not true?"
The knights flinched visibly at every word she spoke, their eyes darting nervously from place to place, unable to meet her accusing stare.
The chef looked back at them with a gleaming, dangerous gaze and continued her scolding.
"Even beasts know gratitude and repay kindness. Surely humans—especially knights sworn to honor—should be grateful for such generosity. Isn't that right, gentlemen?"
"Ahem."
"Hmm, hmm."
Amidst the knights who turned their heads away in shame, unable to look at Latina directly, Alex stepped forward once again—bless his earnest heart.
"You're absolutely right, Chef! We can't possibly thank the Marchioness enough for all the kind deeds she's done—and then she even hosted this wonderful banquet for us!"
The chef smiled with obvious pride as she watched Alex working so hard to support me.
I whispered softly to the chef, my voice thick with emotion.
"Thank you, Latina. Truly."
The chef, who had been sternly lecturing the knights moments before, sighed deeply and spoke to me in a much gentler tone.
"I misunderstood you terribly, Madam. I sincerely apologize for that."
"Misunderstanding?"
"Actually, not long after you first arrived, the head maid came to speak with me. She explained that the cultures of Arrental and Ronheim are vastly different—almost opposite in some ways."
"Ah..."
It was about the incident when I, not yet understanding Ronheim's desperate circumstances and frugal culture, had instructed the servants to throw away all the leftover food from meals—a horrifying waste in their eyes.
"The head maid explained everything to me in great detail, but I'm ashamed to say I didn't believe her at first. I thought she was simply defending you because you're her mistress. But recently, I overheard the kitchen maids talking about Arrental customs, and I realized it was all completely true..."
"I see..."
"I apologize deeply for doubting and misunderstanding you, Madam. I really wanted to tell you this sooner and clear the air between us, but I never found the right opportunity..."
"Thank you for telling me now. It means more than you know."
My heart felt genuinely warm—warmer than it had in a long time.
Emboldened by Latina's public confession and support, I slowly looked back at the assembled knights with renewed courage.
They appeared deeply embarrassed after being so thoroughly scolded by the chef. They avoided eye contact with me and pretended not to have heard anything—like children caught misbehaving.
I picked up my spoon as if nothing unusual had happened, maintaining my composure in the uncomfortable atmosphere.
Then I slowly, deliberately ate the custard pudding that Latina had so thoughtfully prepared for me.
Latina had clearly observed that I could only eat small portions, and she'd made me exactly the right amount of treats—not so much that I'd feel pressured or wasteful.
It didn't take me long to finish the pudding.
In the restaurant, the only sound that could be clearly heard was the gentle clinking of my spoon against the dish.
Only after I had scraped the pudding completely clean from the bottom—making sure everyone could see I'd enjoyed every last bite—did I finally put down my spoon with satisfaction.
I took my time leisurely wiping my mouth with a napkin, letting the silence stretch.
Then I addressed the knights who had remained awkwardly silent throughout the entire ordeal.
"I don't think anyone will feel comfortable opening their mouths while I'm sitting here like this. So perhaps... may I tell you all a story instead? Just for a moment?"
The ice had begun to crack—one awkward moment, one custard pudding, one brave smile at a time.
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