SLGAW 17🌌

Chapter : 17

A day had passed since the Banquet of Vassals began.

It was already past noon.

While the lords of each house continued their meetings, the accompanying nobles spent their time in various social gatherings.

That, after all, was the very reason they had come.

But among them were those who could not quite blend in.

And so he now walked through the marquis’s garden.

“The meeting is taking quite a while.”

Klaus murmured as he looked toward the sun already drifting westward.

As the third son of the Rottenbar family and a knight, he was not accustomed to such leisure.

Especially not after recently returning from the front lines.

“Ha ha, brother. At times like this, one must enjoy leisure as part of noble refinement.”

His sworn brother, Eldan, said this as he poured him a bottle of wine.

The weather was bright, fitting for the early summer season. As expected of the Marquis of Lunter’s estate, the garden was excellently maintained.

It was certainly a situation suited for drinking…

Yet Klaus’s expression remained stiff, filled with dissatisfaction and unease as he accepted the glass.

“Eldan, you know this already. I am not fond of such banquets.”

“A war hero should be most accustomed to banquets, yet you keep avoiding them. Tsk tsk. Hummels, come join us.”

A man walking out from the entrance of the mansion hurried over to them.

“In about thirty minutes, it should be over. I don’t know what they have to talk about for so long.”

“Even boardroom disputes can create variables. Is it our place as knights to interfere? Come, have a drink.”

Klaus, Eldan, and Hummels shared wine and strolled through the garden.

None of the three would normally have attended such tedious gatherings.

Even now, they were social misfits wandering the garden to avoid other nobles.

Then someone might ask:

“Why come at all? You’re not even the head of the family.”

Originally, that had been their plan.

If not for the information they had received.

“Brother, you really are something. No matter how much you enjoyed the book, did you really have to come all the way here?”

At Eldan’s teasing, Klaus let out a faint laugh.

“Hmph. If anyone hears that, they’ll think I’m the only one. Who was it that came running to me begging to form a sworn brotherhood after reading a single book?”

“The one who immediately bought a peach tree after hearing that was you, brother.”

“That tree caused the gardener to request leave for overwork. The insects it attracted ruined the entire garden.”

At the mention of the peach tree, all three burst into laughter.

It was the memory of the catalyst that had bound their friendship together.

“The Three Kingdoms Story was truly shocking. I hope the next volume comes soon…”

“Probably not for a while. After what he wrote recently…”

“Ah…!”

Hummels’s expression went hazy, as if dreaming.

Don Quixote.

That recent work alone had shaken the entire knightly class.

It was evident in his face.

And in the faces of the other two as well.

“To dream impossible dreams.”

Klaus spoke first.

“Defeating undefeatable foes.”

Eldan immediately followed.

“Enduring unbearable pain.”

“And dying for a noble ideal.”

They took turns speaking, one after another.

Words that made any knight’s heart tremble.

And if there was anyone who had been most shocked by these lines…

It was this man.

“…I hope I can meet him someday. The author K.H…”

Klaus Rottenbar.

For him, Don Quixote had become something like scripture.

He had first encountered it while stationed at the front.

At a time when a large-scale operation was imminent, tension filled the unit, and even drinking was prohibited.

Then a single book arrived among the provisions sent to him.

At first, he thought it was merely a satire of boastful, delusional knights.

For a brief moment, he even felt disappointment in K.H.

But as he read on…

As he continued to watch the insignificant old man named Don Quixote…

No.

This was not merely satire.

It was admiration for knights themselves.

A story of hands still reaching for the stars, even after being worn down by a cold reality.

Klaus read it over and over whenever he had time.

He laughed at the absurd antics, cried at the humiliation the old man endured, and trembled at his unwavering resolve.

And then, when the large-scale operation finally began…

“Sir Klaus! Why are you here?!”

“Even if the enemy cannot be defeated, we must still overcome them. That is what it means to be a knight.”

“What are you saying?! That’s nonsense!”

Breaking through an ambush and rescuing the encircled Second Division was only the beginning.

With just five hundred men, he repeatedly took on the most dangerous roles, cutting through enemy forces.

By the end of the operation, he had defeated the enemy commander known as the “Ghost of Oppenheim,” Sir Kramer.

That radiant achievement secured victory for their side.

Though limited to the northern front, it was a decisive event that influenced the war’s outcome.

And thus, the name Klaus Rottenbar echoed across the Kingdom of Aldvania.

Naturally, the royal family did not remain silent.

He was summoned to the capital upon his return.

A noble title and grand rewards were expected.

But the place he stood now was the Marquis of Lunter’s estate.

“Brother, you really are ruthless, haha.”

Eldan and Hummels laughed, already aware of the full story.

Klaus had taken a month’s leave under the pretext of injury.

Given the scale of the battle, injuries were inevitable, and the capital approved it.

That was the official reason.

In truth, I am not injured.

There were minor wounds, but nothing serious.

So why had he come here first?

“Tonight, right?”

“It should begin once the meeting ends…”

He had heard the rumor.

That K.H would appear at the Banquet of Vassals.

When he heard it, Klaus chose without hesitation—to exaggerate his condition.

It wasn’t even a complete lie.

“I am slightly injured.”

This excuse worked perfectly.

Other nobles did not dare invite him into long conversations or gatherings.

A brief peace for a war hero.

Noble etiquette eased Klaus’s guilt.

Though Eldan and Hummels guarding him like a fortress also helped greatly.

“I hear even the Marquis of Lunter will attend the poetry recital.”

“The marquis? That’s unusual. He rarely attends cultural events.”

“Isn’t K.H under the marquis’s patronage? He must have liked the works.”

“Hmm…”

Klaus still found that part puzzling.

Of all people, he had actually met the Marquis of Lunter once before.

And the man, Vilak Lunter, seemed completely uninterested in poetry, novels, or music.

It was obvious that the patronage must have been led by his daughter, Emilia Lunter.

“Well, it doesn’t matter. It’s been a long time since I’ve attended a cultural event. I’m looking forward to it.”

“It’s just music and poetry, but sure.”

As Eldan and Hummels grew excited, Klaus pushed aside his thoughts and looked up at the sky again.

The sun continued to sink westward.

Soon, he would finally see him.

The man who had completely changed his life.

What kind of person is he?

In Klaus’s mind, an ideal knight took shape.

A large, muscular man with upright eyes and a firm, resolute expression.

Inside the banquet hall of the Marquis of Lunter’s estate.

After the meeting ended, nobles filled the hall in the late afternoon, whispering among themselves.

The topic was, of course, the upcoming poetry recital.

In noble banquets, poetry recitals were usually light entertainment.

A place where nobles recited poems accompanied by musicians, showing off their refinement. Sometimes minstrels were hired to enhance the atmosphere.

Music and poetry blended together, and conversation faded into appreciation. Occasionally, a noble caught in emotion would join in spontaneously.

A relaxed, pleasant event…

But today, it felt anything but light.

“Even the Marquis of Lunter is attending…”

“What are we supposed to do if he’s here…”

The appearance of the worst possible audience.

That was how the nobles interpreted the news.

What is poetry, if not an immersive art form that requires the listener’s emotional engagement?

And yet that stone-faced, iron-like man would be listening?

One cold “tch” from him and the entire hall would freeze.

Even the musicians were murmuring anxiously.

“Tune your instruments. Treat today as your final performance.”

“Yes, understood.”

They carefully tuned their instruments with resolute expressions.

Even as the marquis’s exclusive musicians, they had barely performed in his presence for more than ten minutes in total.

For two years, they had endured humiliation—playing only for guests, never for their master.

Any performance ended with a dismissive “Tch. Step aside.”

Most musicians who came before them quit within a year.

The reason they remained was simple.

We have never been recognized by the one person who matters: the Marquis.

All guests said their music was the finest they had ever heard.

But their employer—the only audience that truly mattered—never listened.

It was, in a sense, wounded pride.

And in another, it was the pride of those who endured solely to reach that one listener.

And that very man, the Marquis of Lunter, arrived ten minutes before the event.

“The Marquis of Lunter is entering.”

With the announcement, he stepped into the hall.

At his side stood Emilia Lunter, his daughter and renowned genius of the marquisate.

The nobles applauded as the marquis raised his hand in acknowledgment.

“You have all worked hard during the long meeting. Enjoy the remainder of the banquet with moderation. That is all.”

A brief, dry statement. The man had not changed at all.

The murmuring subsided, replaced by rising tension.

Could this atmosphere be saved?

While most nobles feared a dull evening ahead, the announcer’s voice echoed through the hall.

“Ladies and gentlemen. Tonight, we celebrate the prosperity and peace of the kingdom with a festival of poetry, music, and story.”

The banquet had begun.

And perhaps, already reached its first highlight.

“For the opening performance, we present a poetry recital accompanied by music. And the one who will open the stage is…”

The doors opened.

“Is there any noble in this kingdom who does not know this name? The writer K.H will take the first stage!”

A man stepped through the doorway.

A white ceremonial outfit, shining blonde hair, and a pure white mask concealing his identity.

All eyes in the hall turned toward him.

The mysterious writer everyone had been waiting for.

K.H.