Home/I confined you, but I have no ill will/ch 55

55.

The moment Kai entered his shabby cabin, he straightened his hunched back. Looking at the mirror hanging in the corner, he lamented.

"Ibelin would be horrified if she saw me now."

When they'd lived together, he'd always kept his beard neatly shaved—she wouldn't be used to this bushy mess.

But the beard wasn't the real problem.

Kai—his real name was Kailun El Frillie. The former Baron Frillie, and Ibelin's grandfather.

For reasons, he'd faked his death and come north. He knew Ibelin would grieve and suffer, and that relatives would eye her warily to claim his holdings—but he'd had no choice.

He'd left her a hidden inheritance. She was clever—she'd manage. He still missed her, but there were more pressing matters.

Unknown.

A child he'd once brushed past. Kailun had recognized the seer's bloodline in him—and yet, he hadn't protected him.

Though I can't see prophecies properly myself.

Only once, in old age, had he glimpsed the future. In that vision, Unknown, consumed by hatred, sought to destroy the world. To prevent that and save Unknown, Baron Frillie had to die—so that his influence wouldn't affect the other bloodlines.

"Ibelin."

May you be happy.

That was all Kailun could pray for.

---

Kite, forced to sit at his desk by Seren, paused mid-work and stopped moving altogether. Seren eventually had to ask.

"What's wrong?"

"I was just thinking—when should we hold the engagement ceremony?"

"Has Lady Ibelin agreed?"

"I haven't even asked yet."

A sigh escaped Seren. It hadn't been long since they'd discussed this in the training ground—and now another scheme.

"The date should be decided with your fiancée. And there's much preparation—it can't be done immediately."

"I know."

Kite answered sulkily and resumed writing.

"But will Ibelin agree to it?"

"Put your hand on your heart and think about that."

"Seren—you've become rather bold lately."

"That's because, when it comes to Lady Ibelin, you're utterly inept."

The meticulous Kite seemed to turn into a fool regarding Ibelin. No amount of help seemed to move things forward.

"I've been trying."

"Try harder."

Seren stacked the reviewed documents on Kite's desk.

THUD!

At the heavy sound, Kite gritted his teeth.

"Why so many?"

"Because you haven't been dealing with them. Pile them up, and of course there'll be many."

"Hah!"

His pen moved faster.

"Read them thoroughly."

"I am."

He'd been called a genius in his youth—this wasn't difficult. He just disliked not seeing Ibelin while doing it. And he couldn't exactly drag her here.

With Ibelin, he was trying to change. He was handsome, powerful, wealthy, and skilled with a sword—if he just improved his personality a little, wouldn't she fall for him?

Scratch, scratch.

For a while, only the sound of pen on paper filled the room.

Then, someone knocked.

Knock, knock.

"Come in!"

The door opened cautiously, and Ibelin peeked in.

"Ibelin?"

He set down his pen and rose immediately.

"Hello—are you very busy?"

"No—almost done."

A lie. Seren clicked his tongue as he flipped through papers.

"I baked some cookies."

She entered with a basket of cookies.

"Please have some while you work."

"Cookies—just what I needed."

Kite prepared tea with the room's set and sat at the table. Looking at the basket, he made a subtle expression.

"Familiar cookies."

"I heard they're common in the North."

Even in the resource-scarce North, cookies were made—but they differed from the capital's. Not a sweet dessert, but a coarse dough with ground wheat husks, beans, and whatever nutritious bits could be found. He'd once seen jerky in cookies—like rocks, softened in stew.

Ibelin's cookies were similar—but with better ingredients: kidney beans, peas, dried apricots, raisins, and some unidentified fat.

Kite ate one without hesitation.

Healthy taste.

It could substitute a meal. After finishing one, he drank tea while Seren received a cookie. He hesitated, then bit into it.

Seren had also been in the North—but unlike Kite, who'd adapted, he'd always been picky and thin.

"Delicious."

Seren ate it slowly—it was at least edible. Otherwise he'd have spat it out.

"Thank you."

Ibelin smiled shyly and offered more. Kite ate the rest.

"Thank you."

She happily promised to bake more and left.

"Ugh."

Only after she left did Seren groan.

"Memories of the North haunt me."

"You make everything a nightmare."

"The taste is much better—but her cooking always ties to the North."

"Her grandfather taught her."

"The Baron's taste was peculiar—teaching his granddaughter that. He should have hired a chef."

Kite agreed—noble ladies didn't usually learn such cooking. For her future, something else would've been better.

"Well—the Baron had his reasons."

"I don't want to know them."

Seren rinsed his mouth with tea. Soldiers never wanted to eat wartime food again.

He sat across from Kite to rest over tea.

"More importantly—the North is stirring lately."

"The barbarians are gathering?"

"Yes—Intelligence is on edge."

"Of course—their combat ability is high. Now they're scattered, so our forces can manage. If they unite, war may break out again."

"Then they might blame Lord Kite."

Kite had led the northern war to victory—though others had contributed, he'd been the highest-ranked, receiving most honors earned through death and sacrifice.

"They'll say I'm the only one who can end the war quickly."

Their thinking was obvious—and Draven would encourage it.

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