The caravan had been on the move for an entire day. Without a doubt, the newly joined female knight had drawn considerable attention from her companions. This wasn't merely because she was the only woman among them but more so due to her peculiar connection with the young master.
Just last night, she had walked out of the young master's chamber, and by dawn, she had come forward to swear her loyalty to him.
This attention carried with it an undercurrent of... jealousy.
Yes, jealousy.
After all, this woman had been granted the esteemed title of "knight"!
It must be noted that the so-called "guardian knights" of the family weren't considered true knights. The term was little more than a title, much like how a seahorse, despite its name, has little in common with a majestic steed. In essence, they were no more than cavalry—guards on horseback, lacking the noble rank of true knighthood.
Yet here was this woman, a mere acquaintance of a day, a warrior of middling skill, suddenly bestowed with something these men had dreamed of all their lives. Naturally, envy festered in their hearts.
Following this ineffectual young master into a remote exile was already a bitter pill to swallow. Their sole aspiration had been the faint hope that one day he might favor them enough to promote them from lowly guard to honorary knight—a modest dream, but theirs nonetheless.
Everyone knew the young master had no real chance of inheriting the earldom. At best, he would become a baron, with the legal right to appoint only ten knights. And now, within just one day, one precious spot had been claimed by a woman of dubious origin.
The most logical explanation was that their 13-year-old master didn't grasp the gravity of what it meant to be a knight. To him, it seemed, such honors were mere tokens in a child's game, carelessly handed out.
And, of course... her beauty didn't help matters. Those shapely legs and her undeniable allure were enough to seal the deal.
Resign yourself to it.
Rowling could feel the disapproving gazes from her new colleagues, even from her two original companions, who now seemed to harbor some confusion about her decision. Still, Rowling remained steadfast, choosing to trust her own instincts.
This young master, Du Wei, was no ordinary person. Her choice to pledge loyalty to him would not be a mistake.
As the setting sun painted the sky in hues of amber, Du Wei's caravan crossed a great river. The arched stone bridge, constructed of massive circular stones, had stood for nearly a century. Green moss adorned the stones nearest the water, shimmering like emeralds alongside the clear, rushing current.
This river was called the Emerald River—though its official name was the Rowling River.
Named after the illustrious Rowling family, the river bisected the fertile Cort Province in the southern reaches of the empire. Crossing it marked the border of the Rowling family's territory.
South of the river lay a vast plain, a rarity in a region dominated by hills. This fertile expanse, blessed with rich soil, verdant forests, sprawling farms, warm weather, ample sunshine, and gentle rains, was one of the empire's most bountiful lands. Officially, it was called the Rowling Plain.
Yes, another legacy of the Rowling family.
This peculiar naming tradition dated back two centuries.
During a great war of defense, when the northern tribes invaded and plunged the empire into chaos, a Rowling general distinguished himself. His extraordinary military achievements earned him the title of Marshal—the only Rowling to hold such a rank in over three centuries.
To secure his loyalty, the emperor even gave his sister's hand in marriage to the general. Before a pivotal battle, the emperor, riding high with hope, had dramatically declared:
"If you return victorious, I will cede all the lands south of this river to you, and this river and these plains shall bear your family's name—a testament to the Rowling family's unparalleled contribution to the empire!"
The general triumphed, securing both victory and the emperor's promise. The Emerald River was renamed Rowling River, and the plain became Rowling Plain.
Two hundred years later, the empire's maps still bore those names, and the people had long forgotten the original ones.
Even the lowliest guards among the Rowling family felt a deep sense of pride and belonging as they crossed the river.
This was their land—marked indelibly by the legacy of their ancestors.
Seated in his carriage, Du Wei noticed the convoy slowing. Curious, he drew back the curtain to see the knights ahead doffing their helmets, their faces glowing with joy and pride.
"Home! The Rowlians are home again!"
The knights cheered, some galloping about in abandon, their horses' hooves stamping jubilantly on the dark earth. Even their officers, usually strict, allowed the men their moment of unbridled happiness.
Unlike other noble families, the Rowlings adhered to an ancient tradition: their knights and warriors were recruited exclusively from their own lands.
For many of these guards, returning to the Rowling Plain was more than a homecoming; it was a reunion with their heritage.
Du Wei observed the scene with a faint smile. "Madd, have we crossed the Rowling River?"
"Yes, my lord," Madd replied, riding closer to the carriage with a grin. "We're home."
Du Wei regarded him thoughtfully. "Tell me, Madd, are you from Cort Province?"
"I was raised in the capital, my lord, but my father was born and bred in the Rowling Plain. He served the family as a stableman, and I've inherited his post."
Pausing, Madd hesitated before lowering his voice. "My lord, if I may, a word of advice?"
"Go on," Du Wei said lightly.
"When you speak to the people here, please don't refer to them as 'Cort Province folk.' For a true Rowling clansman, there is no pride greater than being called a 'Rowling Plainsman.' Referring to them otherwise could hurt their feelings—and as the heir to this great house, your words carry weight."
Du Wei listened intently, marveling at the pride even a former stableman bore for his heritage.
Perhaps he had underestimated this family.
Looking at the jubilant knights, Du Wei felt a stirring in his heart.
"Home," he murmured.
For the first time, he truly understood the word.
This land, with its history and traditions, might offer him a sense of belonging in this foreign world—a place he could call his own.
Stepping out of the carriage, he bathed in the amber light of dusk, the warmth chasing away the shadows of doubt. For the first time in years, a flicker of emotion crossed his face.
It was hope.