The Amber Knight Swears His Love on the Saintess’s Left Hand - Chapter 9

When he was a child, his eyes had been more yellowish. The kind of color that immediately came to mind when one heard the word “amber.” Even in Eiklant, they hadn’t been particularly unusual.

Quill believed it was the blood of a magical beast that had stained them red.

On the day of his twelfth birthday celebration, Quill had been verbally abused by a distant male relative of the Langbart family.

“You carry the tainted blood of Betzyraft; be grateful the Earl’s house took you in. Subjugate the beasts and repay your debt,” the man had spat.

The people of Betzyraft possessed an ancient magic called hexes, which they used to command magical beasts. The reason that bloodline was loathed in Eiklant dated back to the very beginning of the nation’s founding chronicles.

Back when the Kingdom of Eiklant was still known as Eikraezen, there was a long war with the now-defunct Kingdom of Ringdell.

The King of Ringdell also used hexes. It was said that, single-handedly, he commanded over a hundred magical beasts.

Betzyraft had surrendered to Eikraezen and sworn fealty before this war began. However, during the prolonged conflict, they were suspected of aiding the King of Ringdell. The ethnic group was persecuted, and it was said that almost all of them lost their lives.

This history was why Eiklantians, even now, referred to the Betzyraft line as “tainted blood.”

Quill hadn’t cared for such history. At twelve years old, the man’s insults made his blood boil.

Though he had never used a hex nor even basic magic, he decided to test his blood against a small magical beast. His thoughtless actions resulted in a wound, and worse, the scent of his blood drew in a large, bloodthirsty monster.

In that moment, he was sprayed across both eyes with the beast’s blood.

He survived thanks to Geis, who happened to be passing by, but his sight did not return for over a month.

By the time it did, his pupils had changed to the dark crimson unique to Betzyraft. A brilliant red that practically screamed his lineage to the world.

But that was the only change. He still couldn’t command beasts. His dishonorable ancestry had simply decided to make a loud, visual claim on his face.

Because of the deepened color, adults whispered that he was a “throwback” to his ancestors. The harassment from other noble sons grew harsher by the day.

When the accusations finally reached the House of Langbart itself, Quill could no longer endure it.

He reached out to Geis, took up the sword, and aimed to become a knight.

The sword felt natural in his hands almost immediately. He immersed himself in it, as if a missing piece of himself had finally clicked into place. The cold stares and whispers of those around him were all drowned out by the whistling sound of his blade cutting through the air.

Fortunately, he had an aptitude for ice magic. Whether through pure swordsmanship or as a magic swordsman, Quill had the talent to survive as a Black Knight.

It was a struggle at first, but once he began to “speak” through his blade, his comrades accepted him for the individual knight he was.

Still, the world’s assessment of his blood would never change. The moment he stepped outside the Order, the gazes were painful and suffocating.

If only they had stayed amber. If he looked clearly like a half-blood, would life have been a little easier?

He detested these red-stained eyes with every fiber of his being.

Suddenly, a warm sensation touched his right hand.

Without realizing it, he had instinctively covered both eyes with his hands.

Lynette lightly pulled his hand away.

She was silent and expressionless. It was impossible to tell what she was hiding behind that face.

“Why… why do you call these eyes—”

Quill had no memory of meeting Lynette in the past. As he tried to press her for an answer, she placed a finger against her own lips.

As if to say it was a secret.

Then, taking a deep breath and giving a small shake of her head, she spoke again in a voice that was clear and strong enough to pierce through a fog.

“They are amber.”

“You certainly pick strange things to be stubborn about.”

“Listen well. If I—the Saint—say they are amber, then in this Kingdom of Eiklant, those eyes are amber. As my fiancé, you are the Saint’s Guardian. It should be only natural for you to easily brush aside the son of a mere Marquis.”

Quill caught his breath and stared at his fiancée. Lynette acknowledged his gaze with a nod and raised her right hand once more. To signal displeasure.

“I certainly felt displeasure toward Sir Claussen for the space of three counts.”

Quill, the “savage of Betzyraft,” had been a noble before he was a knight. He had known he must never defeat the Marquis’s heir, Marius Claussen. Not once had he allowed that pretty boy to taste the dirt of the arena.

He had strictly adhered to that rule for the sake of House Langbart.

But what about the Quill Langbart chosen by the Saint?

Lynette, her Pledge Lock swaying, took Quill’s right hand. She pressed her forehead against it, then dropped a light kiss on his knuckles.

“Lord Quill, I wish you good fortune in battle.”

Quill suppressed a laugh with the back of his free hand.

He had thought of the Saint as a woman with a pitiable fate. A girl chosen by the stars at sixteen, bound for two years, a “doll” who had lost her emotions.

She is strong.

She was a person who had chosen to seize her destiny and turn it into her own weapon.

Quill withdrew his hand from Lynette’s grasp and sank onto one knee. This time, he was the one to take her left hand.

As he raised it respectfully, the Pledge Lock swayed. He brushed his thumb over the cheap blue stone and looked up into her eyes, which were deeper than any gem.

“I promise to answer your encouragement, Lady Ceryes.”

The reality of being her fiancé still hadn’t quite sunk in.

However, in this moment, Quill felt a profound sense of respect for the woman before him, Lynette Ceryes.