[Leif’s POV — The Next Day—ThorenVald Estate]

After the horrifying "cleanse-your-body-and-soul" ritual last night, Alvar had the audacity to sprinkle his favorite perfume on me.

"You should smell like me," he’d said.

And then—because apparently logic was for mortals —he’d hugged me tight and fallen asleep like a six-foot-tall, muscle-bound koala.

I didn’t protest. Mostly because it was... well, cute . And also because every time I moved, he growled. Anyway, moving on before my dignity files another complaint—

The next morning brought actual, non-romantic news. Our knights were set to arrive by afternoon after securing the village borders.

"Finally, something normal," I muttered—then instantly regretted it, because in ThorenVald, ’normal’ was a myth.

Nick, the ever-efficient perfectionist, had prepared a token of gratitude for the knights—a sleek little thing he proudly presented on a velvet tray.

"This," he announced, puffing out his chest, "is the Trivium Core Stone."

I picked one up, turning the small oval gem in my hand. It shimmered faintly with silver-blue light, pulsing like a heartbeat. "Beautiful, Nick," I said, impressed. "You actually outdid yourself this time."

"With your permission, my lord," Nick said, bowing slightly, "I aimed for excellence."

Ah, there it was—Nick, the multi-talented person.

"We’ve also arranged for magicians to bind its power," he continued. "The stones will only activate when the bearer is in true danger. This way, they can defend themselves without risk of misuse."

I blinked, genuinely impressed. "So, it’s basically a magic panic button that doesn’t explode the user? Smart."

Nick nodded gravely. "Precisely. I took inspiration from last time when one of our knights accidentally blew up a haystack."

"Right," I muttered. "May the haystack rest in peace."

He smiled faintly. "This will ensure their safety, my lord."

I looked down at the glowing stones again, the faint hum of power thrumming through my fingers. "I just hope they’ll like it," I said softly. "They’ve earned something special."

"Trust me," Nick said, with the quiet certainty of a man who’s already three steps ahead, "they will. Especially since you personally approved the design."

"Of course I—wait. I did?"

Nick blinked innocently. "You nodded in your sleep."

"Nick... that’s not approval; that’s sleep paralysis."

He ignored me with professional elegance.

***

[Later — Afternoon—ThorenVald Estate]

The sun was dipping into a golden blaze after many snowy seasons when the knights arrived—dozens of them—riding in perfect formation through the grand gates. Banners of crimson and silver fluttered in the wind, armor gleaming like a moving wall of light. My Crimson babies are following them.

The sound of hooves echoed through the courtyard, heavy and synchronized, as if the earth itself bowed before them.

Then— SLAM! —the front gate opened fully, and Sir Roland dismounted, kneeling with one fist to the ground.

"GREETINGS, MY LORD!" The entire regiment followed in perfect unison, voices booming like thunder.

I blinked, not shocked anymore. "...Wow. They are still the same."

Then Sir Roland, the knight, lifted his head, smiling proudly beneath his silver helm. "The village is secure, my lord. No casualties, no chaos, and a few animals were successfully relocated."

I nodded approvingly. "Good, Sir Roland. I heard you didn’t even have to lift your sword and still won the battle. That’s... impressive leadership."

The silence that followed was suspicious.

Then— SLUMP!

Dozens of knights collectively drooped like overwatered tulips. One even sighed dramatically, helmet clanking.

"...What’s wrong with them?" I muttered, glancing at Zephyy, who was perched comfortably on my shoulder, snacking on a tart like he was watching a play.

Zephyy shrugged. "Well, Master... guessing from the collective despair in their aura—" he gestured lazily "—they really wanted a war."

. . .

"Right...how could I forget that?" I mumbled.

"They’re warriors, not gardeners, Master," Zephyy said. "You basically praised them for not doing their job."

"...Ah. That explains the dead eyes."

Sir Roland sighed dramatically, removing his helm. "My lord, we trained for months... months! And not a single chance to swing our swords with glory! Even the cows ran away before we reached the field!"

Another knight sniffed. "They didn’t even moo at us..."

A third raised a trembling gauntlet. "We practiced our heroic poses for nothing!"

Okay. This was escalating faster than I could process.

Before the courtyard turned into a medieval support group, I awkwardly clapped my hands. "Alright! Before we start crying over missed sword practice—Nick! Bring out the token of appreciation!"

Nick, who had been standing at the edge of the crowd like a responsible adult in a circus, immediately stiffened. "Y-Yes, right away, my lord!"

He spun on his heel and practically sprinted toward the manor like his life depended on it. The knights stared at me expectantly. I stared back. Somewhere, a tumbleweed rolled through my dignity.

I sighed. "I hope that calms them down..."

It didn’t, because...they are too happy. The moment we handed out the tokens of appreciation —

"WOOOOOAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

"I can’t believe we’re being praised for doing nothing!"

The knights suddenly burst into cheers as if I’d blessed them with the divine powers of ancient heroes.

One clutched his chest. "I feel... alive again!"

Another raised the glowing stone to the heavens. "I will store this in my treasure chest and show it to my grandchildren!"

And there I was—standing deadpan in the middle of this chaos—mumbling under my breath,"It was just... a mere gift. You don’t have to exaggerate."

Of course, no one listened.

They were too busy dramatically posing under the sunlight like they’d just defeated a dragon army.

"LOOK! It shines like my honor!" one shouted.

"Your honor was lost when you tripped on your sword last week," another muttered.

"THAT WAS TACTICAL FALLING!"

Zephyy perched on my shoulder, looking unimpressed. "They...are just too much, master. How do you handle them? "

I was wondering that too.

Anyway, honestly... it was good to see them happy. For once, the courtyard didn’t sound like a war zone. I cleared my throat, smiling softly. "Thank you," I said.

That immediately silenced them. They blinked at me, confused. Sir Roland hesitantly raised a hand. "But, my lord... we didn’t really do anything—"

I lifted my palm, cutting him off gently. "No, Sir Roland. You did. Whether or not you drew your sword doesn’t matter. It means your presence alone—the aura you carry—was strong enough to make the enemy back down in fear."

Their eyes widened. I continued, voice steady but warm, "That’s the mark of true strength. You protected the people and kept peace without spilling blood. Because of that, our territory stands stronger than before... and soon," I smiled, "it may become a small kingdom of its own, all because of you. So, Thank you for everything and coming back safe and alive."

Silence fell—then, one by one, they all dropped to one knee.

THUD!!!!

"We will always protect you and this land, my lord," they said in unison, voices steady with renewed pride. "Every enemy that strikes you and this territory first must face us."

For a moment, the sunlight caught on their armor—shining like a reflection of hope itself.

I smiled faintly. "Thank you. You’re the second pillar of this place... the shield that guards our peace. I hope you all shine like this forever."

They smiled back—sincere, loyal, and still slightly teary-eyed from earlier.

Zephyy sighed dramatically. "Congratulations, Master. You’ve officially turned battle-hungry knights into sentimental marshmallows."

I chuckled under my breath. "Better marshmallows than maniacs with swords."

And that’s how I welcomed my knights home—with gifts, speeches, and mild emotional chaos.