A

/N: This chap was inspired by my favourite anime, Gintama. Check the para comments for some visual aid.

“She loves me! She loves me not! She loves me! She loves me not!…”

Sir Willfard was the name of the Knight who had decided to come to ask for the hand of Count’s daughter in marriage. He himself was the second son of a noble lord, but due to his past misadventures, he was unable to gain much power.

Nevertheless, he was still a knight women would throw themselves at, for he was handsome and built like a hunk, with ashen hair like the snow. But, above just flesh pleasure, he wanted wealth. So, when he received the word that Count Jartel wished to marry off his daughter in a competition, he set off to win her.

“Hehe, Ursala. What a beautiful name. What do you think, Bob? Will she have a bigger bust than my last adventure?” The Knight shamelessly asked his Squire as they rode down the North road.

“Sir, I think she will have a big bust and butt, just as you like it. Perhaps she’s even more beautiful than the countess you slept with once. You must give your best in this competition and win her. The glory of your house will increase with you.”

Of course, the Squire saw his liege as nothing but a cash cow, so he would bootlick even when the situation was utterly ridiculous.

“Oh, I am already getting an erection thinking about our first night. I shall lift her in my arms and gently lay her on the bed. Then gracefully slide down her dress and caress her curves through and through. She would say, ‘My beautiful stallion! Shall I ride you?’ I will agree and let her mount on me and ride while I caress her twin peaks. Ah, the fun I will have with her.”

“Sir, isn’t she a ripe fourteen? I don’t think she will be as developed yet.”

“No problem. I will make her bloom like a beautiful rose with time.”

The two men fantasised about the woman as they rode down south. The closer they got to the county, the more excited they became. The Squire, Bob, was just happy because he would get a lot of pay if this marriage went through. He will be able to scam the wealth of a count as well.

In time, they finally reached the county and eventually the town surrounding the castle of the Count. He knew he was an important man, so he went straight to the gates and demanded to be let in. “I am Sir Willfard, and I am here to contest for Lady Ursala’s hand in marriage. Let me in this very instant.”

The guards looked at each other’s faces. First, there was confusion, then there was a realisation, and finally, as they opened the gates, there was pity. They were knights, too, and they ran away from Ursala like she was the plague.

The Count went as far as to greet the Knight himself at the gates with great enthusiasm and fanfare. He made the servants put a beautiful flower necklace around the Knight’s head and give him good coconut water.

“You must be tired, Sir Willfard. I have arranged the best room for a knight as respected and mighty as you.” The Count greeted him while he rubbed his hands as if scheming.

The Knight was blind to it, but not the Squire. He noticed there was something wrong. ‘Fuck! Did we just walk into a trap?’

But, he dared not speak, for he was a mere commoner in pursuit of becoming a knight. He very much loved his head above the shoulders. So, like a good servant, he picked up the Knight’s luggage.

Sir Willfard was on cloud nine after he saw the gold rings, earrings, nose piercings and bracelets the Count was wearing. His eyes didn’t even register the fatness of the Count–that may be inheritable.

“Respected Count Jartel, where are the other contestants wanting the hand of the beautiful lady Ursala?”

The Count just smiled. “You are early, sir. But worry not, you can rest in my castle. In fact, I shall allow you to meet with my daughter face to face so you can get to know each other. After all, marriage is the congregation of two souls, not just bodies.”

‘I’m one hundred per cent sure now that my liege is utterly **ed. Look at the damn smug faces of all these men. They know they have caught a nice fat pig ready to be slaughtered. Should I make a run for it?’ Bob, the Squire, wondered in silence.

Soon, the Knight was shown a room to sleep in, while the Squire was given the servant quarters adjacent to the room.

“Sir, get ready for dinner. The Count wished for you and Lady Ursala to have a meeting before anything else.” The servant who led the men informed them.

“I shall don my finest silk robes then, dear peasant. Go now and tell Lady Ursala that her Knight has arrived–ready to pluck the beautiful rose she is.” Sir Willfard cooed like a happy little girl.

But only Bob saw the disgust on the servant’s face. He had no doubt now that they were stuck here. These walls were their home now–their prison.

In no time, the Knight changed his clothes and wore a beautiful noble tunic and breeches, red and gold in colour, exuding his wealth and pride. “Bob, how do I look?”

“Wonderful, my liege! You look fabulous! Just ripe to be taken and swallowed by the beautiful flower!”

“Right? Hehe, I am going to be so wealthy soon.” Sir Willfard happily skipped downstairs in hopes of finally meeting the woman.

Soon, they arrived at the dining hall, where the food was not yet served, and the men and many women sat with grinning faces. The moment they saw the Knight coming, they stopped those smug smiles. The Count himself stood up and went to hug.

“Ah, you look fine, Sir Willfard. As they say, a night should look mighty in armour and manly in tunics. Now, let’s have you meet my daughter. I believe she is waiting to see you in her favourite red flower dress.”

Sir Willfard melted in the arms of the Count. “Hehe, thank you… father-in-la… Ah, I mean my lord.”

“…”

‘My liege, please open your eyes! You’re not the reason for the feast! You’re the pig to be butchered for the feast!’ Bob, the Squire, cried silent tears for the man.

“Come now.”

Count Jartel, Sir Willfard and Bob soon arrived in front of a desolate room in the corner of the castle. No sound would leave that spot. That was for certain.

Knock Knock!

“My beautiful princess–look! Your Knight has come.”

Sir Willfard took the initiative as well, a bit more seriously, as he fell to his knees and put a rose stem in his mouth. He closed his eyes and started to sing praises of her. “Oh, my Ursala, your name is enough to brighten my heart, and I’m sure talking to you will enlighten my life. Remove these walls, these doors between us! Let’s join forever be together. Oh my…”

“Daddy! Is my Knight here?” The door opened, and a feminine voice crept into everyone’s ears. But, it felt strange as the bass was too much… as if it was suppressed under layers of blankets–muffled.

Thud!

Sir Willfard quickly looked back due to the sound and saw his Squire having fallen to the ground, his jaws open, and eyes widened. He appeared to be gasping for air as he pointed his finger at where his woman of dreams was supposed to be.

“Bob, I know she’s pretty, but that’s overdoing it aa���”

The woman, supposed to be prettier than the moon, was just a fat blob with clothes enough for a village wrapped around her body.

“Oh my, is that a rose for me? Thank you, sir!”

No words could leave the poor Knight’s mouth anymore. Only breaths… scared and terrified breaths–silent screams for help, likely. His face, full of happiness, expectation and lust, turned pale as if a ghost.

“Daddy! He’s so pretty! I’ll take him to play.”

Bam!

Lady Ursala grabbed the Knight’s collar and dragged him into the room. The man, who had just lost his self-respect, could see Squire’s face and realise that he had fallen into the age-old trap in the world of nobles. It appeared he had utterly lost the game of thrones.

‘Ah! So this is how it ends… I will be her stallion and… die?’

Bam!

The door was closed. Bob crawled on his four to the door and just sat there in silence. He didn’t like the man, but he felt the pain as a fellow man.

“You, Squire. Come and have dinner with us! This is a very auspicious day for all.” The Count dragged Bob to the dining hall and made him sit at the table.

Bob knew he was not a guest here. He was a hostage. So he ate silently, making no noise and expected that his liege could survive this meeting, so they could plan their escape. .𝙘𝙤𝙢

A few minutes later, he felt another presence beside him, like a ghost. At a look, he realised it was Sir Willfard, the mad man who had survived. But, before he could ask how the man was, he heard the Count.

“So, son. What do you think about my little wildflower? She may be a bit goofy, but she has a heart of gold. I’m sure you will be happy with her for the rest of your life… inside this castle!”

“Daddy! He taught me how to kiss!”

Bob, wide-eyed, started at Sir Willfard for answers. What was this giant woman saying? ‘Please tell me she’s lying! Please!’

Sir Willfard wiped his mouth with a cotton cloth. He remained seated like a statue; however, no real expressions on his face were visible other than his eyes looking at a distance in a random direction. There was still a hint of lack of delight, however–and shame.

“Count Jartel… Lady Ursala… I will marry her!”

“…”

Bob fell from his chair loudly. His mind was shouting inside. ‘No, my liege! Don’t do this! Just for money, you’re selling yourself! Please… reconsider this! You have to… I refuse! You deserve better… I know you’re an asshole, but still.’

“Do you really like her?” The Count was on cloud nine.

Sir Willfard nodded solemnly. “I love her.’

‘Oye-oye! That face does not match the feelings!’ Bob cried… silently, for that was all he could afford.

…

In the Monastery.

Sylvester was in a meeting with his team and Archbishop.

Knock! Knock!

Suddenly, a messenger from the Count’s castle came and handed Sylvester a letter. He quickly opened it and read it.

Thud!

Sylvester helped himself stand by taking the table’s support. His eyes darted toward the Archbishop. “Your grace… it seems the Knight you selected was worse than we imagined. He agreed to marry Count’s daughter.”

“What!”

“Pfft!” Felix threw up his lemonade. “What kind of degenerate did you find?”

“May the lord have mercy on his soul.” Sir Dolorem and Gabriel prayed silently.

Sylvester, meanwhile, looked outside from the window at the sky. “This day shall be remembered for when greed won–for self-respect, there was none! May the holy light enlighten the poor chap.”

Then, ignoring that matter, he returned to the main important business.

“It seems the war will not happen anytime soon now. Therefore, Sir Dolorem, you are to quickly leave for Green City, find this Knight Kenworth, and bring him to justice.” Sylvester ordered.

Then he faced Lady Aurora. “What have you thought about the request for help? The crusaders said they are unable to deal with the Bloodling.”

“I will go if you go.” She blurted back.

Sylvester was going anyway as he felt this was the best time to farm some brownie points with many nobles in the crusading army. Not to mention, he was less scared this time due to his special move and a Grand Wizard being with him. “I am going. After all, a dear old friend has requested help from me.”

“Who?” Felix wondered.

“A certain lord of undeads.”

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