I Will Be the Greatest Knight-Chapter 307: Not the Greeting She Expected

A letter had been sent to the Duke’s Tower the day of her grandmother’s death, telling the knights that she would soon return to them. It became Irene’s driving force to return. She couldn’t disappoint the knights more than she already had by leaving for such a long time, so shortly after she was appointed the third in command.

It felt like time, at that moment more than ever, to take it seriously. Her desire to become the greatest had not waned.

However, it seemed like a bad omen that the day she was set to leave, the mountains surrounding Chemois were starting to accumulate snow again. Occasionally, they would have variable and unpredictable weather like that. All it did was remind her that she was no longer in the far north, where small cycles of weather happened constantly, but at least they were predictable.

After all, she had been reading about Sünstoian culture and Volna, and she couldn’t help but put meaning into it as her people once did. She also had to take into consideration that the predictable weather of the north would likely be much more concerning and poignant if there was something to change it.

"Are you sure you’re ready to go?" her father asked her as she loaded her saddlebags onto Sammy. "I can’t be sure if this storm will settle into the valley."

She only stopped when everything was strapped into place. Ever since she found out the state in which she left Sammy while being under the wyrm’s curse, she was even more careful than normal about the way in which she secured things to the loyal horse.

The fact that she hadn’t gotten them both killed amazed her. It also made her feel anxious that she didn’t remember a second of what it was like to be under the curse.

"I need to go," Irene insisted. "The other knights are waiting for me. I want to be there for when the monsters fully wake up for the season. I haven’t fought anything in quite a while. I’m worried I’m going to get rusty without practice."

"Practice?" Arthur questioned in disbelief. "I would believe that if it weren’t for seeing you waking up early each morning and going down to the practice yard of your own volition. You’re probably better-practiced than anyone else in the order at this rate."

"I’m going stir crazy," Irene admitted. "As if a comfortable life is too much for me after spending so long traveling through the Sünsto region."

"I understand what that’s like," Arthur responded, clasping his daughter’s shoulder. "At least I did when I was younger. Now I don’t mind resting for longer periods. My stomach getting fat is an indication of that."

He placed a hand on his stomach, a small smile on his face as he spoke. It was his efforts to lighten the mood.

Since Irene expressed her desire to leave so soon after her grandmother’s funeral, he was clinging to her more than normal. Seeing her invigorated about sword practice and life in general inspired him. It almost felt as if her leaving would send him into a period of darkness if he wasn’t careful.

All that it meant was that it was time to take his son north and see if he could further unlock his warrior spirit. However, convincing Rochelle that he could go on another dangerous trip was going to be another story.

Irene’s eyebrows raised. Her father looked no different than he always did, in her opinion.

"You look the same as you did when I was a kid," she insisted. "As long as you’re still strong, I don’t believe your appearance matters. After all, it is mother who is feeding you so much and allowing you to drink ale on all nights of the week."

"And you were participating each night," Arthur reminded her.

"Yet I was the one still waking up and practicing each day," she shot back.

There was no winning. The goodbye they were putting off was inevitable.

Their expressions changed at this realization, and Irene simply fell into her father’s embrace. They knew that Irene’s leaving was always going to happen and that they had been relying on one another for happiness.

However, children always grew, and the knighthood always needed her. It didn’t make anything easier.

"You’re sure you don’t want me to go with you?" Arthur persisted one last time.

"You told me that you wouldn’t."

A voice came from behind Arthur, and he turned towards his wife, looking rather embarrassed that she caught him finding a way to escape once more. She could never understand what it was like to crave danger and thrill. He couldn’t tell if it was because of his Sunstoian blood or because it was a knight. Perhaps it was both.

It seemed that Irene was the one with this trait the most outside of him, which was why it was such a pleasure to have her around.

"I want to go by myself," Irene reminded her family. "It’s a relatively short amount of travel, and the freeze has caused the floodplains to stop for a while, so I risk slipping more than I risk getting stuck in the mud now."

"You are more responsible than your father," Rochelle complimented as she went forward to embrace her daughter. "Be safe, dear. Write every now and then."

Irene’s mother then handed her another small glass bottle of the lilac oil she continuously provided for her, and she gently patted her cheek before she could return to her husband’s side.

"Of course," Irene assured her. "Then I will be off."

"Your brother isn’t here to say goodbye?" Rochelle asked in disbelief.

"I told him goodbye this morning," Irene assured her. "He is hunting with our cousin right now."

"Very well," Rochelle relented.

With that, Irene was able to leave feeling divided about leaving behind her family so quickly after the loss they sustained, but knowing that culling monsters and protecting the duchy would benefit them just as it would the knighthood. It was the best thing she could do.

At only a few points in the journey did it get precarious enough that she was forced to slow her pace because of ice, but even then, she wasn’t worried because of the horse she had brought with her.

When she returned home, it was clear to her that Sorrel would never be her horse again. Sammy had been through enough and had enough energy that she felt it important to honor him by keeping him.

When the Duke’s Tower was in view, the young woman felt a tinge of something she couldn’t place. Was she nostalgic? Perhaps it was the same feeling of greeting someone she hadn’t seen for ages. Yet she only saw the tower and not the people.

The history of the valley was written in her and her brother’s blood. Even hundreds of years to come, she hoped that people would take notice of that.

As she got closer and was eagerly greeted by Bren, her eyebrows rose. It had only been three months, but he seemed so much taller.

"You’ve been eating well and have sprouted like a weed," she said, feeling old.

Bren was only a few years younger and had to blush. She was like a sister to them all, but it didn’t take away from the fact that the older she got, the prettier she became.

Perhaps she was holding her head a little bit higher after acknowledging the fact that she became a woman by age, around the same time her grandmother passed away. Despite that, she felt like the most growth had been when she was near her ancestors’ lands.

She took her saddlebags and went into the back entrance of the tower. Fortunately, no matter how much of a lady she was, they still treated her like one of their own.

However, there was a strange emptiness when she got inside. She first went left and down the hall to the study, where there was no sign of life. Felix had been using that space religiously as he tried to get himself organized as the highest ranked in the knighthood. She thought for certain that’s where he would be.

The warmth and eagerness to see her brothers were chased away by worry.

Footsteps behind her.

The knight turned around in a rush to see who was approaching. Her heart thudded in her chest.

"Ingrid," Irene greeted. "It’s wonderful to see you."

"The same, dame. I heard that you had quite the journey," the older woman greeted.

"It has been an adventure certainly," Irene responded, but that wasn’t her focus. "Where is Sir Felix?"

"I believe you should read the letter the knight left behind for you," Ingrid insisted. "Top drawer of the desk."

Ingrid looked to be holding something back, and Irene could only feel anxious.

Right away, she thanked the maid and rushed to where the letter was.

To her astonishment, the first line after the greeting was. "A new Duke has been chosen..."

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