Chapter 97: Rigolav

As the noblewomen stepped down from their carriages, they swept their eyes across the grounds, eager and bold in their search for tonight’s prey.

Some had long since fallen out of harmony with their husbands, their parched hearts seeking warmth only from a stranger’s soul. Others had husbands away at war, and both their lonely hearts and their lonely bodies were desperate for comfort.

The ladies were far more restrained. They kept their eyes lowered, their manners demure and proper, and only when they spotted a man to their liking did they gather the courage to approach and strike up conversation.

Before becoming mere instruments of family alliance, finding one’s own gallant prince, and if possible eloping with him, was an essential lesson for every noblewoman of the North.

The male aristocrats were no less hungry. Far from the battlefield, their virility had nowhere to go, so they could only display their charm through the number of mistresses they kept.

Every banquet was a carnival.

Before the feast had even begun, flirtatious glances were already flying wildly through every corner of the manor.

Even Leo, with all his experience, was startled by the revealing gowns worn by the noblewomen.

Here there were no ancient moral strictures to bind them, nor laws and regulations to hold them in check; the changing fashions of the nobility came chiefly from shifts in social custom.

For the moment, it seemed that exposing one’s chest was not considered improper at all; covering oneself up was what looked rude.

Ivan, who had never seen much of the world, stared with bulging eyes, unwilling to miss a single sight.

Smooth, tender, taut, and white.

It dealt the young man a powerful blow to the soul.

In just one hour, Ivan, who considered himself devoted to one love, had changed his heart ten times over.

Rigolav stood with Ulyan, greeting important guests while taking the opportunity to chat idly.

Glancing at the two overexcited young bumpkins, Rigolav asked casually, “Which one is your son-in-law?”

“The one with short hair.”

“And why was his hair cut so short?”

“He said it was because, in a fight, he was afraid someone might grab it.”

“Interesting.” Rigolav chuckled. “He hardly looks impressive enough to outshine my Romon.”

Ulyan could only force a smile. “The two of them are in love with each other. What am I supposed to do? Those years I was in the army, Leo took care of the household. If I go break them apart now, what sort of man does that make me?”

Rigolav’s displeasure had long since been vented, and there was no need to make things difficult for an old subordinate every chance he got.

More to the point, what he valued in Ulyan was precisely his loyalty and sense of justice.

In this age, chivalry had drifted ever farther from the nobility, but the Northern code of loyalty still ran deep in blood and bone.

So when he heard this, Rigolav only smiled and teased, “Then I can only say you are simply not fit to be a lord. You probably won’t make a proper nobleman in this lifetime.”

Ulyan grinned sheepishly. “What choice do I have? If I hadn’t been unable to let go of my people, I would have come to work for you as a captain of your guard long ago. Wouldn’t it be better to beat up your children now and then than to brawl with bandits and foreign savages in the wilderness?”

“I don’t have any children for you to beat,” Rigolav said. “Romon still hasn’t found a suitable wife. It really is worrying.”

He embraced a guest in greeting and lavishly praised the beauty and grace of the man’s wife and daughter.

Only after the man had gone did he lower his brows and confide in Ulyan, “The world is getting worse and worse. Dressed like whores, all of them. What sort of rabble is this?”

Ulyan had been craning his neck to watch with great interest, but at those words he pulled himself up sternly and shook his head again and again. “Indecent! Utterly indecent!”

Rigolav then turned to Romon beside him and said, “Go fetch Ulyan’s son-in-law. I want a word with him.”

After watching the guests’ grand entrance, Leo and Ivan turned their attention to the food being carried out by the servants.

The fragrant roast suckling pig, the pies scattered with ground almonds and raisins, the assortment of fried meats, and the white bread spread with honey or butter made the two of them practically drool, though they stood rooted in place, unable to move.

Ivan raised a hand toward the food, only for a servant to pass by; he hurriedly drew it back as though caught stealing.

When the man had gone, he lifted his hand again. Another person passed, and Ivan, startled, dropped his hand once more.

The lavish food and the opulent atmosphere of the banquet left the young warrior, who had always charged at the front in battle, awkward and flustered, robbed of his courage.

Leo could not bear to watch any longer, so he took a piece of white bread, folded it over and over, and with a slap stuffed the whole thing into Ivan’s mouth.

Ivan chewed the bread with great gulps, so delicious it nearly brought tears to his eyes.

Once Riverbend had a grain surplus, Olivia would organize the village women to bake bread as well. It was a far more refined food than barley cakes.

But no matter how extravagant they were, they only ever used wholemeal flour milled at their own mill to make brown bread, unlike the nobility, who used refined flour stripped of bran to make white bread.

The flavors of honey, jam, and butter utterly captivated Ivan.

Leo ate even more ferociously than Ivan, and while stuffing himself he still found time to mock him. “Mmph! Mmph! Look at you, acting like some hillbilly who’s never seen the world... munch!”

Romon came over and, seeing the two of them gorging themselves, could not help frowning. “Behave yourselves. You’re about to embarrass Captain Ulyan to death.”

Leo handed him a pig’s trotter. “Want some?”

He actually bore Romon no real hostility. One was a crude country boy, the other a nobleman’s son from the city; it was only natural that they would rub each other the wrong way.

In the past, Ulyan had intended to marry Olivia to Romon, and Romon had indeed been quite taken with Olivia, but that did not amount to enmity.

Who in Riverbend did not like their goddess?

If only Leo had been the one to like her, then there would have been something wrong.

Nine out of every ten men in the village liked Olivia, and many of them had even boldly confessed their feelings. Was Leo supposed to treat them all as sworn enemies?

Leo had the maturity of two lifetimes, and a rather indifferent attitude in this one.

Toward Romon, his guiding principle was simple: make friends if possible; if not, at least do not make an enemy.

“No need. My father asked for you,” Romon said. Though he disliked the captain’s vulgar son-in-law, he did not behave rudely.

Leo quickly wiped his hands and followed Romon to meet the long-admired banner knight.

Leo had taken part in every stage of Riverbend’s colonization, and thus understood even more clearly that the settlement had been able to secure its footing only through Rigolav’s vigorous support.

Without Rigolav’s letter of recommendation, Ulyan would never have obtained a frontier charter.

Without Rigolav’s protection, the colonists’ caravan would never have gotten through the many checkpoints controlled by House Frelov along World Tree Avenue.

Without Rigolav’s aid and trade, Riverbend’s iron ore could never have been exchanged for grain, and several hundred people would never have survived in the wilderness to this day.

So whether Ulyan and Rigolav had some unsavory story between them, or whether they had struck some unequal bargain in secret, Leo still felt grateful to the local noble.

When he reached Rigolav, Leo hurried up with an eager grin and saluted smartly. “Sir Knight! Good day!”

The standard courtesy, the sincere smile, the clear and ringing voice all caused Rigolav’s impression of Leo to improve slightly. He nodded and said, “A decent lad.”

And from there he offered a few words of advice, treating Leo much like an affable younger relative.