The Final Task of the Forsaken Saint: A Command to Marry the Barbarian Count - Chapter 33

When I returned to Neige Castle that night, Dirk was surprised to see me. Still, he quickly prepared a meal for me, but as expected, he asked for an explanation.

“Why did you come back? Accepting hospitality while in the field isn’t forbidden, and you’ve stayed in villages before, haven’t you?”

The delicious food prepared by Cook felt somewhat tasteless tonight, weighed down by my guilty conscience.

“Well, usually, it’s just day trips… I wasn’t sure what would happen if I stayed overnight…”

I mumbled out an excuse, and sure enough, Dirk raised an eyebrow. His expression resembled the stern, fearsome lord who dealt with disobedient subordinates, but I knew it was just puzzlement.

As I struggled to find a better explanation, I took another bite of the meat in front of me.

“I, um… have a lot of magic power and tend to attract spirits wherever I go. If I stay in one place for too long, the spirits get… overly enthusiastic. A few years ago, they caused the crops in a town I visited to wither due to overgrowth.”

It happened during a holy mission. I’d stopped in a town to deal with a monster threat, and afterward, the townspeople insisted on hosting a celebration in my honor.

“To be honest, the feast was nothing more than old men boasting and telling crude jokes. The townsfolk were grateful but kept their distance. I must have let my discomfort show because the spirits decided to ‘help’ by making the crops overgrow…”

“And what happened then?” Dirk’s voice was tense, as though imagining the consequences.

I smiled a little ruefully.

“The fields that had been lush and green the day before turned into a sea of flowers overnight. Harvesting was impossible, and the crops that were still good couldn’t be sold. The investigation concluded that my presence caused the spirits to activate the latent magic in the area, so I wasn’t officially blamed. But…”

“But?”

“But word spread among the lords, with a bit of exaggeration. It became, ‘The arrogant saint who destroys crops when displeased,’ and ever since, invitations to stay overnight in rural areas grew scarce.”

Dirk’s eyes darkened as I recounted this.

“Well, I guess it worked out in one way. I didn’t have to deal with unwanted attention from certain men sneaking into my room at night.”

“What?” Dirk’s tone dropped, and I blinked at the sudden chill in the room.

“Um, I mean, it was unsettling when it happened, but they never really posed a threat…”

“Disgraceful.” His voice was low, almost growling. “And you were barely of age at the time.”

“I suppose… I was, yes.”

“Unforgivable.”

The simmering anger in Dirk’s eyes was enough to startle even me. If the culprits were present, he would’ve likely taken them apart on the spot.

“Dirk, are you angry?”

“Of course I am. It’s no wonder the spirits retaliated. They were justified.”

I was taken aback by his fierce declaration.

“You don’t think I ordered them to do it?”

He scoffed, the edge of his anger still present but tempered with a softer look as he met my eyes.

“No. If spirits were as benevolent as the doctrine claims, they wouldn’t act on whims or emotions. They’re not servants who simply obey commands. They’re beings beyond human understanding, operating on their own logic. Those men invited their own punishment through ignorance.”

His logical and unwavering support caught me off guard. In the church’s eyes, his words would be considered blasphemy, but to me, they were reassuring.

“Life in the royal court would have been so much easier if you’d been there.”

I felt a weight lift from my heart. Having someone understand was more comforting than I could express. Smiling softly, I watched as Dirk’s expression softened in turn, a rare hint of embarrassment creeping in as he took a sip of wine.

“Regardless, now that you’re in Rostock, you don’t need to fear such treatment. If anyone here were to disrespect you, they would face severe consequences from me. But… how was the village today?”

Dirk’s gaze was gentle yet probing. I hesitated, glancing at the bottle of apple compote sitting on the table—a gift from the villagers when I told them I had to return early. They had been so warm, so welcoming.

“It was… wonderful. They were kind people.”

The memory of their genuine smiles made me smile a little, but an inexplicable unease still lingered.

“I wanted to stay and share in their celebration, for the sake of the knights who fought with me. But… I couldn’t help but feel anxious.”

“That’s understandable,” Dirk said, his tone steady and reassuring. “But the people of Rostock would never treat you as those lords did. If anything, they’ll be honored by your presence.”

Dirk turned to his steward, who had been listening quietly from the doorway.

“Marque, see to it that some of today’s hunt—both the chestnuts and apples—are sent to the village as a gift. Let them know it’s a token to celebrate their efforts.”

“Yes, my lord,” Marque responded, bowing and stepping out.

Dirk’s attention returned to me, and the sincerity in his eyes made my heart feel lighter.

“Rostock is your home now. I’ll make sure you believe that, no matter how long it takes.”

And in that moment, I felt like maybe, just maybe, I could start to believe it too.