Under the Oak Tree

Chapter 441: Chapter 202

Riftan already had too much on his shoulders. Did he need to bear the weight of the holy sword as well? Maxi’s selfish wish was for him to remain her husband, not a hero burdened with the fate of the Roviden Continent.

“I-I’m sure Riftan is thinking the same about… returning the sword,” she said.

“Sir Riftan is a thoroughly pragmatic person. He would not take such a risk for some unproven legend,” Ruth replied.

Maxi furrowed her brow at his vague answer. “So you have heard nothing from him?”

“Has he ever been one to explain his decisions?” Ruth said cynically. “Like your ladyship, I haven’t seen Sir Riftan in a while. From what I gather, he has been busy meeting with prominent nobles of the kingdoms.”

“E-Even so… he could have discussed it with us… before or even after deciding. I don’t see how that is so difficult.”

“Don’t expect such consideration from him,” Ruth replied, huffing at the lock of hair flopped over his forehead. “Sir Riftan is used to making decisions independently. He is not one to share his every move. That’s been his way of life until now, so it’s unreasonable to expect change overnight. Do not hold it against him, my lady. Try to be understanding.”

Ruth’s words struck her, making her feel like a petty child. Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. Riftan had always made efforts to accept her, yet here she was, demanding him to change further for her sake.

“1 understand,” Maxi said, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

“With things as they are, you should wish for his success. I’ve no doubt your support would motivate him,” Ruth advised, patting her shoulder.

Maxi forced a smile. Riftan had accepted her as a mage. Now, it was her turn to accept his calling as a knight.

***

As high-ranking knights bypassed the preliminaries, Rif tan’s first duel took place long after the tournament had begun. After nervously looking around the waiting room, Maxi sucked in a breath when she spotted him sitting against the wall, polishing his sword.

He was not in full armor yet, but his presence was more commanding than those who were. His steel-like muscles flexed beneath his thin tunic in sync with the movements of his long arms. The pauldron on his shoulder caught the light, glinting brightly.

For someone about to compete in a major tournament, Riftan’s face was shockingly impassive, bordering on boredom. His eyes showed not a hint of excitement or nerves.

As Maxi was observing Riftan’s stony expression, two young servants approached him with a set of plate armor.

“We have finished polishing your armor, Sir Riftan.”

Riftan sheathed his sword and slowly rose. The servants promptly set to work, strapping a breastplate over his chest while he fitted his vambrace and gauntlet. The scene felt like a solemn ritual.

Noticing Maxi lingering by the entrance, Garrow said cautiously, “Won’t you go talk to him, my lady?”

After a brief hesitation, Maxi slowly crossed the waiting room.

Riftan frowned when he finally spotted her. “Why are you here?”

He dismissed the two squires and strode over, clearly unhappy she was at the stadium. Maxi swallowed a sigh. Ever since the abduction attempt, he had been wary of her being in crowded places. Ignoring his reproving look, she slipped her hand into her coat.

“I wanted to give you something before your match.” She pulled out a neatly folded handkerchief. “I planned to give it to you this morning… but you left before dawn, and I was forced to seek you out here. It’s been extremely difficult to see my husband of late.”

Riftan cocked a brow at her sarcastic tone. He seemed pained, given that his absence was not his choice. Nevertheless, it was a valid complaint. Over the past few days, she had only seen him briefly upon waking.

Suppressing her simmering anger, she said sharply, “Well? Give me your arm.”

Riftan sighed and offered his hand. Maxi secured her white handkerchief around his gleaming gauntlet.

“It’s a charm for victory. 1 could not let you be the only one… without one.”

After wordlessly gazing down at his wrist, Riftan’s eyes swept across the room. Only then did he seem to notice the other knights’ handkerchiefs.

Returning to his wrist, he finally muttered, “Thank you.”

Maxi frowned at his disappointingly tepid reaction. “Is it… not to your liking?”

“It’s not that,” he answered quickly.

Yet, his brow remained stubbornly creased. He brushed the handkerchief and mumbled, “I’m worried it will get stained.”

“Then 1 will get you a new one. Don’t worry about—”

Her words were cut short by the blast of a trumpet outside, signaling the start of the tournament.

A young cleric burst into the waiting room. “Sir Riftan, Sir Barrett, please get ready! You will be fighting the first match.”

Maxi’s throat felt dry, her stomach tying itself into knots as if she were the one about to enter the stadium. In contrast, Riftan was the picture of calm.

Picking up his helmet, he said to her, “Don’t even think about going elsewhere. Head back to the palace.”

Maxi regarded him incredulously. “Y-You want me to go without watching the match… when I’m already here?”

“There won’t be anything to watch. Crowds are dangerous, so 1 want you to return.”

“N-No. I want to support—”

“Sir Riftan! You must enter the stadium now!”

At the cleric’s call, Riftan turned toward the entrance. Maxi’s disgruntled expression became worried when she spotted his towering opponent, unmistakably a northerner.

“Please be careful,” she said, hurrying after Riftan.

“Don’t worry. 1 will do my best not to get any blood on it,” he replied as he donned his helmet.

Maxi was confused by his answer until she realized he was referring to the handkerchief. Her frown quickly turned into a scowl. “I-I’m not worried about that! It is you—”

Before she could finish, Riftan pulled her toward him by the waist and planted a brief but firm kiss on her lips. Then, before she could react, he strode off.

Still reeling, Maxi watched him leave before she felt the glances directed at her. She hurriedly left the waiting room, blushing furiously. It was exasperating. How was he so composed when she was sick with worry? She frantically fanned her burning face as she made her way to the stands.

Garrow, who had been quietly trailing her, asked worriedly, “My lady, are we not returning to the palace as Sir Riftan instructed?”

“O-Of course not. What would people think if 1 was absent during my husband’s match?” Maxi replied with a snort.

As she emerged from the long corridor, the crowd’s roar indicated that the match had begun. Growing impatient, Maxi rushed up the stairs and through the arched passageway. The stadium was a sea of excited spectators, all chanting Riftan’s name.

Peering down at the circular arena, she was met with a confusing sight: the giant man, Barrett, was sprawled on the ground. Riftan was nowhere to be seen. She turned to Garrow, bewildered.

“What happened? Where is—”

“Max! You’re here!”

Maxi whipped her head toward the voice. Sidina, Anette, and the Godric twins were nearby, watching the tournament. As Maxi made her way through the packed stands to get to them, Dean Godric’s voice rose above the frenzied cheering.

“Your husband is amazing! The match ended as soon as it began. It was so fast,

I barely caught it!”

“Th-The match is already over?” Maxi asked numbly.

This time, Sidina’s excited voice answered, “It was spectacular! Sir Riftan sent that huge man flying the moment he drew his sword! It was like magic!”

Maxi, momentarily lost for words, glanced down at the arena. It dawned on her how ridiculous her worries had been. No wonder Riftan had not taken her pleas for caution seriously.

That day, he fought a total of three matches, with none lasting more than a minute.

“I overheard someone say Sir Riftan has always been known for his swift victories..”