150: Unexpected love confession - Arkin's POV (part 1)

Unexpected love confession - Arkin's POV (part 1)

Arkin let out a long, weary sigh.0

I hate spring.

He had just concluded a meeting with the platoon leaders, who seemed more interested in boasting about their love lives and discussing their plans with their betrothed or wives now that the weather was warming up. While they found joy in their romantic pursuits, Arkin's only satisfaction came from the fact that the platoons were finally complete in number.

As the other platoon leaders dispersed, Arkin's gaze lingered on the empty spot next to him. It was the very spot that his young cousin, in a foolish display of bravado, dueled another knight and won, securing it as his own for eternity.

Bastian von Conradie was conspicuously absent from their gathering yet again.

"Damn it," Arkin cursed under his breath as his gaze fixed upon the distant manor. He couldn't help but wonder what kind of chaos was unfolding inside. Whatever was happening, Arkin had no desire to be anywhere near it.

The sound of footsteps caught his attention, and he turned his focus in that direction. His gaze fell upon a maid who was making her way towards him, earning herself a vicious glare. He had no time to spare for her, regardless of what she wanted.

"Sir Arkin, you have been summoned to the Archduke's estate," the maid announced from a distance of ten feet, her voice carrying towards him.

Arkin scowled at her. "Woman, is this the proper manner in which to deliver information?"

The maid flinched, her body visibly tensing as she swallowed nervously.

Arkin immediately regretted his harsh reprimand, "Who summons me? Start from there," he instructed, his tone softened.

"L-Lady Adelaide," she replied nervously.

Arkin's feet propelled him with urgency towards the stables where his loyal horse awaited. It felt as if a dark cloud loomed over his head, a heaviness fueled by the unusual circumstances. Adela never sent someone else in her place to summon him, and their recent dance held a peculiar air of strangeness. He couldn't reach her quickly enough.

"Run, boy!" he commanded his stalwart stallion once he mounted.

They galloped swiftly, hooves pounding against the ground as they raced alongside the shifting patterns of afternoon shadows. Arkin's fervent longing to reach Adela overpowered his usual sense of caution, causing him to disregard the need for further inquiry into the reason behind the summons or Adela's exact location. 

There you are!

By sheer luck, Arkin instinctively chose to check their secret hiding spot as his first destination. Halting his horse at a considerable distance to avoid detection, he ensured that Adela remained unaware of his presence.

After securing his horse to a nearby tree, he felt a heavy thud in his chest.

He had made a solemn vow to himself to strive and become what Adela desired, willing to exert every ounce of his being for that. If he found himself incapable of meeting her expectations, he contemplated removing himself from the equation entirely.

Mercenaries make a good living, after all.

As Arkin approached Adela, he realized that his distance had been unnecessary. She was lost in her own world by the pond, her gaze drifting nostalgically over the water.

A sense of nostalgia washed over Arkin as he too glanced at the serene lake. It had been a witness to their childhood games, their spirited escapades around the Baroness, their youthful squabbles over every little thing, and their profound conversations held in seclusion near these very waters as they grew older.

Without a word spoken, Arkin understood the purpose of the summoning. The only reason Adela would be here was to mend their strained relationship.

"She daydreams far too often," Arkin murmured, observing Adela lost in her thoughts, seemingly oblivious to his approach. She had gracefully settled on a woven picnic blanket beneath the protective shade of their towering willow tree and removed her hat, placing it beside her. Her gaze turned towards the warm rays of the afternoon sun.

His footsteps resonated loudly on the crushed grass as he made his way towards her. Nevertheless, she kept her gaze averted, her green eyes shrouding her true emotions, despite their usual expressiveness, they now concealed her feelings from him.

He hated it.

"...You summoned me from the midst of training my knights for... a picnic?" Arkin said, feigning disbelief.

"And hello to you too, Commander," she retorted bitterly, her gaze meeting his. "How about you take a seat and indulge in something light before you continue with your duties?" Her words dripped with excessive politeness, and she adorned her expression with the sweetest smile she could muster.

His valiant heart clenched at her display, and he made no effort to mask his deep concern. "...What vexes you?"

Three words sufficed to unveil the anguish etched across her countenance. A wince escaped her lips as she instinctively reached for her chest, and Arkin's own chest mirrored her pain. However, instead of placing his hands where it hurt, his folded hands unraveled into clenched fists by his sides. He stood there, on the verge of inquiring further, aware that the questions he wished to pose were likely ones she had no desire to broach, neither with him nor with anyone else, for that matter.

She appeared lovelorn in his eyes, her expression reflecting the anguish of a wounded heart.

"Adela..." he uttered her name, each syllable carrying a heavy burden of guilt, for deep down, he knew he might not be prepared to hear the words she was about to speak.

She waved her hand dismissively, as if attempting to brush away the weight of her emotions. "Sit down!" she exclaimed, gesturing for him to join her. "I'm famished, but I can't possibly consume all of this food by myself."

At the mention of food, Arkin's attention was drawn to the enticing aroma, and his eyes finally followed his nose to see what she had prepared for the two of them.

There was a tempting selection of freshly baked artisanal bread, his absolute favorite kind with its crusty exterior giving way to a soft and fragrant interior. Alongside the bread, she had artfully placed a curated selection of aged cheeses, a medley of sliced bell peppers, crisp carrot sticks, and refreshing cucumber rounds.

"You've truly outdone yourself," he said, his mouth watering at the sight of the exquisite fruit tarts filled with an abundance of seasonal berries. The flaky, buttery croissants, dusted with powdered sugar, were equally irresistible.

"Don't even think about touching those tarts. None of it is for you," she said sternly.

He scowled. "What on earth are you talking about? Every single item here is meant for both of us," he retorted, making his way towards her. He took his designated spot across from her, settling himself down and preparing to indulge in the feast before them.

"You don't deserve the tarts. They are all for me," she replied.

A mischievous grin tugged at his lips. "Oh, is that so?" he teased. "Well, in that case, I suppose I'll just have to enjoy them all myself." He reached over, plucked one of the fruit tarts from the tray, and took a bite, enjoying the burst of sweet flavors on his tongue. He winked at her playfully, challenging her to object.

As he observed her playful defiance, a warm feeling spread through his chest. It was a rare moment of lightheartedness between them, a glimpse into the past when they were carefree children. It made him long for simpler times, before the weight of their noble titles and societal expectations burdened their relationship.

...Will I ever have the chance to be your brother?

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