Arnolt was caught off guard, confusion clouding his thoughts as he struggled to find the right words. Before he could respond, the Count spoke first.
"I know this might seem selfish of me," Count Dermeuelle began, his tone earnest. "I've heard from your mentor, Grennyn, that you've spent years training to become an adventurer. With my offer, it may feel like I'm taking that chance away from you."
Arnolt listened quietly, his thoughts racing.
"I want to protect this land as much as I can—for my family, my followers, and my people. With you in the Count's army, I believe that protection can be ensured. My troops need someone with your strength to lead them," the Count continued, his voice filled with a mix of determination and desperation.
He paused, then spoke again, his words heavy with sincerity. "Forgive my boldness, I understand you may wish to decline this offer, but I need to hear your decision from you directly. For the sake of my wife, my daughters—I beg you to consider it." The Count's voice faltered as he bowed deeply before Arnolt, his plea sincere and heartfelt.
The room fell into a heavy silence once more, each second stretching with deep anticipation. Arnolt took a deep breath and began, "Please, raise your head, my lord. A nobleman should not lower himself before his subjects."
The Count lifted his head at Arnolt's words, his gaze steady as Arnolt continued. "I am truly honored by your offer. Any commoner would be overjoyed to hear such high praise and receive such a request. But as you said, I cannot accept the offer to join your army.
The Count held his breath, waiting for Arnolt to say more. "The responsibility of leading an army is too great for someone like me. I'm not qualified for that. My original motivation for becoming an adventurer was to protect my cousin," Arnolt said, glancing at Xiona.
"And now, that motivation has expanded to protecting everyone," he added. "So please, my lord, you needn't worry about this land plunging into chaos. As soon as I become a member of Venatoria, I will keep this land safe, its people safe, and the world safe. You have my word!"
The Count stood silently, absorbing Arnolt's words. His expression softened with relief as he responded, "I understand. That's all I needed to hear. Thank you for your honesty." He gave a slight bow.
Garthen broke the silence. "Well, that settles it. Count Dermeuelle, you've heard it from the lad himself. I hope this eases your concerns. And rest assured, once Arnolt joins the guild, we'll whip him into shape, ready to uphold his promise."
The Count nodded in agreement. "Thank you, Guild Master. The guild is always dependable." He then turned to Arnolt and Xiona. "I've said all I needed to say to both of you. You're excused now, I have more to discuss with the Guild Master."
Garthen added, "I appreciate you guys coming by. Alastir can escort you back to the lounge."
"Thank you for having us, Count Dermeuelle, Guild Master. We'll take our leave now," Arnolt replied, bowing, with Xiona following suit.
As they left the room with Alastir, Arnolt and Xiona noticed two figures lingering nearby, clearly caught in the act of eavesdropping.
"Jaaka! Tyrina! Fancy running into you two here," Xiona called out with a playful grin.
"Oh hey… You guys done talking with the Count? Must've been quite the conversation for it to take that long," Jaaka responded, trying to act casual.
"Yeah? And what were you doing just now? Eavesdropping, perhaps?" Xiona's grin widened as she teased him.
"Nah, I was just coming back from the restroom," Jaaka said, trying to sound nonchalant. "It just happens to be in the same hallway, you see."
Before he could continue, Tyrina, unable to hide her amusement, cut in with a grin. "We couldn't resist listening in! Arnolt, that was some impressive resolve you showed back there."
Arnolt blushed slightly, but Tyrina's praise brought a smile to his face. "Uh… Thanks, Tyrina. I didn't really think it through; I just spoke in the moment."
Jaaka sighed in defeat. "I should've known better—there's no keeping anything quiet with her around."
The group burst into laughter at Jaaka's failed attempt to cover up their eavesdropping. Together, they headed back to the guild lounge, chatting and joking as the day turned into evening.
Later, as the sun set, Arnolt and Xiona returned to the camp, each carrying a bag filled with meat skewers, a gift from Tyrina. As they approached the cooking area, they saw Xiona's parents busy preparing dinner for the camp.
"Mom, Dad, we're back!" Xiona announced with a big smile.
"There you two are! I thought you were just going to get breakfast," Meredynn said, surprised to see them return so late.
"And it seems you waited for dinner as well," Erleed added, amused.
"We had quite the day in town," Arnolt replied with a smile, letting out a sigh of relief.
"My, my, where did you get all that food?" Meredynn asked, eyeing the bags. "Did Miss Tyrina buy them for you? Oh dear, I hope she wasn't troubled with it."
"It's okay, Aunt Meredynn," Arnolt reassured her. "It was her idea, and she insisted we take them."
"Come on, let's eat together," Xiona offered, holding out the skewers. "There's plenty for everyone. Here, Mom, Dad, grab some."
"We're fine, sweetheart," Erleed replied gently. "But I think you should share it with those kids staring at you from behind."
"Yes, those hungry little eyes have been fixed on those skewers since you got here," Meredynn added with a smile.
Xiona and Arnolt turned to see a group of children watching them, their eyes wide and mouths watering.
"Hey, everyone! Come and get some skewers!" Xiona called out excitedly.
The children rushed over, and soon the camp was filled with laughter and the delighted chatter of young voices. Xiona and Arnolt watched with contentment as the food brought a moment of joy to the weary camp—a small but meaningful victory in a day filled with heavy decisions.
Later, as the night deepened, Arnolt and Xiona retreated to their tent, eagerly throwing themselves onto their warm beds.
"Fuah… what a day. I'm beat," Xiona sighed, burying her face in the pillow with a muffled groan.
"Yeah, it's been one thing after another. I could use some rest too," Arnolt agreed, lying down on his bed, his exhaustion mirroring hers.
After a moment, Arnolt asked, "Hey, don't you want your own tent? We don't have to be cramped together."
"Nah… It's fine," Xiona mumbled, her voice barely audible. "This tent is meant for two people anyway."
Silence settled between them until Xiona spoke again, turning over and facing upward, her voice soft. "Hey, Arnolt… did you really mean what you said to the Count?"
"Which part? I said plenty of things to the Count," Arnolt replied, a hint of teasing in his voice, though his eyes remained closed.
"The part where you said your motivation for joining the guild was to protect me," Xiona clarified, her tone insistent, as if the answer should have been obvious.
"You could say that," he responded, his tone light, almost playful.
"What do you mean by that?" Xiona exclaimed, sitting up abruptly on her bed, frustration clear in her voice.
"I'm saying I'm doing this to keep an eye on you," Arnolt replied nonchalantly, still lying back, his eyes now open and staring at the roof of the tent.
"Then just say it straight! Don't make it all roundabout!" Xiona huffed, her annoyance clear as she grabbed her pillow and tossed it at Arnolt's face.
The pillow hit Arnolt squarely, but before he could respond, Xiona continued. "You could've joined the Count's army, you know. That's got to be the offer of a lifetime, and you just threw it away," she said, crossing her arms over her knees.
Arnolt set the pillow aside, his gaze fixed on the tent's roof as he spoke. "What are you even saying? Are you trying to tell me I made the wrong decision? Please, I wouldn't want to be an army man anyway—too much hassle."
Xiona's eyes remained on Arnolt as he continued. "I saw your face when the Count offered me that position. It was obvious you didn't want me to take it. And besides, you know what kind of person I am. A job like that wouldn't suit someone as useless as me."
Suddenly, Xiona scooted closer and clung to Arnolt's side, burying her face into his left shoulder. Startled, Arnolt frowned and said, "What are you doing? Quit being childish."
A brief silence fell over them, with Xiona still holding on to Arnolt. Then she spoke softly, "Hey, do you remember when we were kids, when I fell and rolled down that hill?"
"Oh yeah, I remember," Arnolt replied. "You were crying your eyes out when I caught you."
"And the time I nearly fell into the pond?" she continued.
"Yep, I was the one who ended up falling in instead. My mom was furious with me—" he started.
"But I didn't even get wet because you saved me," Xiona interrupted. "You were always there to keep an eye on me. You saved me just in time, no matter how far I was from you."
"I don't get it. Where are you going with this, Xiona?" Arnolt asked, confused.
"You were always busy with your books or other things, even when we played as children, so you shouldn't have reacted instantly if I was about to get hurt. But you did," Xiona explained.
Arnolt was taken aback, remaining silent as she continued. "You always saved me just before something bad happened. Don't you see, Arnolt? You're not useless; you're gifted. You always have been, and I've known this longer than anyone else."
A heavy silence settled between them as Xiona tightened her grip on Arnolt. "If anything, I was the useless one. When I saw that Omen, I couldn't do anything to help. I wish I could've done more…"
Arnolt's heart clenched. He knew exactly what she was talking about—the moment his parents were slain by that man-like Omen. The memory was seared into his mind, a wound that still fresh in his memory. He wanted to say something to comfort her, but Xiona's voice, trembling and raw, pressed on.
"It felt unreal… I was so scared, Arnolt. The Omen, your parents' death… it all happened so fast, like a nightmare I couldn't wake up from," she whispered, her voice breaking.
"Xiona…" Arnolt began, his hand instinctively reaching out to touch her hair, He wanted to comfort her, but Xiona's trembling voice pressed on.
"And then… when you went into that rage, I felt even more scared," Xiona's voice grew hoarse, thick with emotion. "You'd just lost your parents, and you… you reacted so differently. It was like you became someone else."
Arnolt felt the weight of her words, realizing just how much she had been carrying. Her tears dampened his shoulder, a silent testament to the fear she had been holding in. In that moment, he understood—she wasn't just clinging to him out of comfort. She was afraid of losing him too.
The memory of his fury came rushing back, how he had been consumed by the need to kill every last Omen, blind to everything else, even Xiona. The sight must have shaken her to her core.
"I see," Arnolt murmured, his voice heavy with regret. He gently placed his hand on her head, fingers threading through her hair. "We both went through something horrible that day. But we're still here, Xiona. We're still together."
Arnolt's voice softened, his hand continuing to stroke Xiona's hair. "You know, when I finally came back to my senses, you were the first person I thought of. You've always been there for me, even when things were at their worst. I don't think I'd be where I am now without you. And despite everything, you always find a way to cheer me up."
Xiona's grip tightened as she raised her tear-stained face. "Arnolt… I just wanted to be there for you, to help however I could."
"And you already have," Arnolt said. "You're not useless, Xiona. Not in the slightest. You've always been strong, even when you don't see it yourself. And I need you to know that. It's okay to feel scared, to feel overwhelmed. But don't ever think you're less than you are."
Xiona blinked, her gaze locking onto Arnolt's. "Then promise me this, Arnolt," she said, her voice trembling but resolute. "Promise me you won't call yourself useless again. Not ever."
"I promise. But you have to promise me the same thing," Arnolt replied.
"Okay, I promise I won't call myself useless as well," Xiona agreed, her voice softening as a sense of peace settled over them.
Xiona released her grip from Arnolt, sitting back on her bed and wiping her eyes. Arnolt watched her for a moment, then spoke gently.
"Come on, cheer up. Usually, you'd crack a joke or start teasing me to lighten the mood," he said, trying to coax a smile from her.
A grin slowly spread across Xiona's face, her eyes still red but brightening with mischief. "Hmm… After everything we've been through, I can only think of one thing you're really useless at."
"Oh? And what might that be?" Arnolt asked, relieved to see her spirits lifting.
"Talking to Lady Alastir—you're just hopeless around her," Xiona said, her grin widening.
"Guh! W-What?!" Arnolt stammered, his face instantly turning crimson.
"Ahh… You're already blushing!" Xiona teased, her voice filled with laughter. "Did you seriously picture her face the moment I said her name?"
"Oh my goodness, you're absolutely adorable, my dearest cousin," she added, reaching out to pinch his reddened cheeks.
"Ahhh… Hey! Stop that! Ow! That hurts!" Arnolt protested, squirming under her playful grip. But despite his complaints, the tent soon filled with warmth and laughter, the tension between them easing as their bond grew stronger in the shared moment of lightheartedness.