The Final Task of the Forsaken Saint: A Command to Marry the Barbarian Count - Chapter 30

Dirk watched Rubel move through the orchard, harvesting fruit alongside the playful spirits.

“Oh, so this is mirabelle! Mmm, it’s so sweet and mild…” she said, her face lighting up with delight as she bit into the yellow, cherry-like fruit.

Mirabelle was in season outside the Deathshade Forest as well.
“Look at this! Grapes, peaches, apples—and are those oranges? I want to try them all!” she exclaimed.

Each time she reacted with excitement, the spirits around her glowed even brighter, adding a radiant shimmer to her red hair. Dirk hadn’t expected any of this to happen in just a single day.

On the return from his recent deployment, Dirk had been shaken when Lady Saria informed him that Rubel had “fled.”

There had been no sign of such intentions. Rubel had adapted well to Rostok’s unique culture, formed bonds with those at the castle, and seemed genuinely content. Unlike the noblewomen before her, who had struggled and eventually left, Rubel showed no such signs of dissatisfaction.

So why had she suddenly disappeared?

When multiple reports indicated that she had headed toward the Deathshade Forest, Dirk was baffled. Yes, there was the estate he intended for her nearby, which he had ordered to be prepared with new furnishings and bedding. He had even informed the village, ensuring she would always have a safe haven. But had she truly wanted to escape?

Driven by urgency, Dirk had ridden hard, even leaving his retainers behind.

Even the best-trained of Rostok’s soldiers were not accustomed to navigating the Deathshade Forest. That wasn’t the real reason, though. He needed to reach her as fast as possible, without delay.

When he arrived at Carbungks half a day ahead of his men, he found Rubel as spirited as ever, facing down a chimera with ease. Relief had almost made him sink to his knees when he realized she hadn’t intended to flee after all.

Dirk had never felt such desperation. Unlike with the other noblewomen, whom he had let go without protest, believing that forcing them to endure Rostok’s harshness was unnecessary, he couldn’t bear the idea of Rubel leaving.

It had surprised him, the fierce resolve that had surged through him during his ride. He never knew he was capable of such intense emotion.

Rubel had unwittingly led him to uncover something that could break Rostok’s centuries-old curse. The spirits hadn’t shunned the land—they had simply chosen to retreat into their favored enclave. It was as simple as that.

Dirk understood the value of the relics they found: the magical crystals, the device capable of enriching the soil at the cost of heavy magic consumption. But more than any of that, the thought that the spirits might return to Rostok, and that magic might once again flow freely through the land, was the fulfillment of a long-held dream.

Rubel had brought him closer to that hope within mere weeks of her arrival.

She had shared her dreams with him—her wish for a place to belong and to be part of a family.

“I’ve had two dreams come true,” she had said, beaming like an innocent girl, her golden eyes sparkling with joy.

For Rubel, those simple desires were monumental. He wanted to protect that happiness at all costs. If he could give her a home and be her family, then that was what he needed to do. Rubel was, without a doubt, the partner he wanted. He didn’t just think they could be happy together—he wanted that happiness with her.

At least, until he remembered the secret he kept from her.

“Dirk!” Rubel’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

She approached with her arms full of fruit, beaming up at him.
“Look, I brought some of the fruit I liked! Mirabelle is so tasty; I can’t believe I never tried it before!” she said, extending some to him.

Dirk remembered her mentioning that Saria had recommended it. Mirabelle had a short season and didn’t keep long, but its soft flesh and sweet flavor made it a cherished treat.

“Would you like to take some back with us? We can say the villagers shared it with us; they have chestnuts too.”

“Oh, chestnuts! I’ve been craving something hearty. Let’s roast them! I’m sure I can use magic to do it!” she said, eyes wide with excitement.

“Have you tried that before?” Dirk asked, surprised.

Rubel’s cheeks flushed slightly as she admitted, “Well, I’ve secretly roasted meat with magic. But once I became the Saint, they kept telling me to behave ‘like a proper saint,’ so I didn’t do it as much. Not that I listened to everything they said—I ignored what I didn’t like,” she said with a wry smile.

Hearing her speak of being used by others in such a detached tone stirred Dirk’s guilt. Yet, Rubel’s unwavering trust and openness made it sting all the more.

“But I know you wouldn’t use me, Dirk. That’s why I’m glad,” she added.

“…Yes, that’s right,” he said, forcing himself to maintain his composure. She didn’t notice the tension in his response and happily began gathering chestnuts.

Dirk internally admitted the truth he couldn’t say aloud.

(But I am using you.)

He had accepted this marriage because she was the Saint loved by spirits. He hoped to discover why, to understand the bond, and to bring magic back to Rostok. He believed that her presence would increase the chances of attracting spirits.

In that regard, his motives were not so different from the court mages who had once exploited her.

Dirk had always prioritized Rostok’s welfare, enduring many things for its sake. Even within the family, there were those who still resented the idea of an outsider as the Baroness.
But now, the thought of another woman as his partner was unthinkable. He would use his authority to make it known that he had chosen Rubel, if necessary. Strength ruled in Rostok, and he had the strength to back it up.

Yet, it would only matter if she chose him too.

Her earlier words echoed in his mind: “I despise the way mages think.”

Dirk kept this part of himself hidden, even from his closest aides. He had pursued the study of magic in secret at the Royal Academy, driven by the desire to understand why Rostok lacked spirits. Until he inherited the title, he had often stayed at the estate near the Deathshade Forest, conducting research.

Only the First Prince knew this secret, having facilitated Dirk’s anonymous publication of research papers. That connection meant the prince now held leverage over him.

(I know I should tell her now, that I’m only delaying the inevitable,) Dirk thought. (But I need a little more time to gather the courage.)

Rubel’s delighted voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Hey, have you tried them yet?” she asked.

“No, not yet.”

“Oh, you have to! They’re so good, we should share,” she said earnestly, splitting her roasted chestnuts and offering him half.

He had intended for her to have them all, but seeing her so genuinely happy to share them made him accept.

“Heh, sharing makes them taste even better, doesn’t it?” she said with a grin.

Dirk’s chest tightened at her carefree smile. He resolved to protect it at all costs.

Even if it meant hiding that he, too, was one of the mages she despised.