Chapter 102: Confess to Me
This question, after taking root in Redrick’s mind, was buried deep beneath the surface of his thoughts, becoming a ghost that haunted him from time to time. But in any case, now was not the time to seek an answer.
The shipment of steam light armor arrived slightly earlier than he had anticipated, accompanied by an equal number of knights from the Order. They had all undergone rigorous training and were originally intended to accompany Leshert to Dudley as his personnel, but due to the circumstances, they had to be reassigned to Assyria.
After all, steam light armor was not something one could simply pick up and use.
Redrick carefully selected a portion of his men to train alongside the knights, preparing them as reserve personnel for the light armor units. Among them was the captain of his own guards.
This transfer order hit the captain like a bolt from the blue. Holding the order, he rushed into Redrick’s room, only to be kicked and beaten out the door by the irritable Duke. Left with no choice, he slinked off to report to the training grounds, firmly believing that His Excellency had sent him away just to make it easier for him to stir up trouble. He even wept bitterly over it in a letter he reported back to Florence.
Lady Cassandra offered no comment on the matter.
After three or four more skirmishes broke out in succession, Redrick frowned as he gazed into the deep, heavy night in the distance. Bonfires burned in the camp, and the roasting meat, glistening with fat, made a sizzling sound. The soldiers held dry flatbread beneath the roasting meat, warming it while thriftily catching the oil dripping from the meat, talking and laughing heartily all the while.
Their happiness was incredibly simple; Redrick’s anxieties were completely beyond their perception. A personal guard approached Redrick, holding out hot soup and roasted meat to him. The Duke reached out to take it, but his eyes froze slightly when they brushed against his own hand.
These hands—the ones that wielded swords and controlled horses—had become rough and cracked. The swollen palms and fingers covered in fissures made them look utterly unbefitting of a duke. Back in Florence, the nobles placed great importance on maintaining their appearance; like women, they used moisturizing oils, milk, and honey to care for their skin and hair. Redrick was no exception to this custom, and back then, he could never have imagined that he would have such an ugly pair of hands in the future.