The caravan trudged onward for a full day. It was clear that the new female knight, Rolynn, had drawn the keen eyes of her comrades. This wasn't merely because she was the only woman among the travelers, but because of her connection to the young master, Du Wei.
Last night, she had emerged from Du Wei's chambers. By morning, she had sworn her allegiance to him of her own accord.
Such attention carried a subtle undercurrent… a faint trace of envy.
Yes, envy.
For this woman had been granted the true title of "knight"!
It must be said that the so-called "guardian knights" of the Rowling House were not regarded as true knights. Their title was but a name—a designation that bore the word "knight" yet held no real weight. Just as a seahorse, despite its name, is never mistaken for a steed.
In truth, they were merely cavalry—glorified guards on horseback, not knights of the noble class. For a woman known only a day, with middling martial skills at best, to suddenly claim what these men had long coveted sparked inevitable resentment.
To be exiled to this backwater with a hapless young master was misfortune enough. Their only ambition was the faint hope that one day, Du Wei might favor them, elevating them from mere cavalry to the rank of honored knight. It was a modest dream, their only pursuit.
Everyone knew this young master had no chance of inheriting the earl's title. At best, he'd become a baron, and a baron was permitted by law to appoint only ten knights. Now, in a single day, a mysterious woman had claimed one of those precious slots! This alone was enough to stir unease among the men.
The most logical explanation? This thirteen-year-old master likely didn't grasp what a "knight" truly was. To him, such a coveted honor was probably just a childish game, bestowed carelessly on another.
And, of course… who could ignore that the woman was comely, with a pair of strikingly shapely legs?
So be it!
Rolynn felt the skeptical glances from her new comrades. Even her two former companions seemed puzzled by her choice. Yet she stood firm in her conviction.
This young master, this Du Wei, was no ordinary soul. Swearing loyalty to him would not prove a mistake!
As the evening sky bloomed with crimson hues, Du Wei's caravan crossed a great river. The bridge, crafted from colossal rounded stones, bore the weight of nearly a century. Moss clung to the stones near the water's edge, shimmering in vibrant emerald against the clear, rushing current—a breathtaking interplay of colors.
This river was known as the Emerald River, though it bore a more formal name:
The Rowling River!
Named for the Rowling House, this river sliced through the southern reaches of Kurt Province, dividing the fertile lands in two. Crossing its waters meant stepping onto the Rowling House's ancestral domain. The southern half of Kurt Province belonged to them!
On the river's southern bank stretched a vast plain, a rarity in the hilly southern terrain. Here lay fertile fields, verdant forests, and sprawling farms, blessed with warm climates, ample sunlight, and just enough rain.
This was one of the empire's richest lands, a vital source of its grain. The plain, encompassing half of Kurt Province, bore an official name… the Rowling Plain!
Yes, it too was named for the Rowling House.
This peculiar naming began some two hundred years ago.
In that era, the Roland Empire faced a great war of survival. Historical chronicles recount how barbarian tribes from the northern continent invaded, plunging the empire into chaos. Internal rebellions further weakened the realm, pushing it to the brink of collapse.
Amid the turmoil, heroes arose, among them a general of the Rowling House. Through countless victories, he rose to become an imperial marshal—the only one in the Rowling House's three-hundred-year history. Notably, to secure the loyalty of this war hero, the emperor wed his own sister to him.
Before a pivotal battle, the emperor, seeking to inspire his brother-in-law, raised his whip and pointed to the southern bank of the Emerald River, proclaiming:
"Return victorious, and all the lands south of this river in Kurt Province shall be yours! Henceforth, this river and this plain shall bear your family's name, a testament to the Rowling House's valor and service to the empire!"
Those words ignited the marshal's resolve. He led the decisive battle with masterful strategy, securing victory and saving the empire's fate. True to the emperor's promise, the Emerald River became the Rowling River, and the southern plain was christened the Rowling Plain. Two centuries later, few even recalled the plain's original name.
In every official document and registry of the empire, the names "Rowling River" and "Rowling Plain" stood proudly.
Though two hundred years had passed, the men of the Rowling House—even these lowly guardian cavalry—felt their spirits soar as they crossed the river and set foot on the plain.
It was a sense of belonging, a pride in their lineage!
Behold! This was the land of the Rowling House! Here, their great ancestors had etched their name into the empire's history, into the very earth itself!
Inside his carriage, Du Wei sensed the slowing of the wheels and heard a commotion outside. He parted the window curtain and saw the knights ahead, doffing their helmets and cheering. The gloom of recent days vanished from their faces, replaced by heartfelt joy and honor… and reverence!
"We're home! The Rowling folk have returned to our land!"
The cavalry shouted with abandon, some even breaking ranks to gallop freely, their horses' hooves pounding the dark soil. Even their commander, usually strict, merely watched with a smile, allowing his men their moment of elation.
Unlike other noble families, the Rowling House held to an ancient tradition: their knights and warriors were drawn solely from the sons of their own lands.
Many of the guardian cavalry accompanying Du Wei had been born on the Rowling Plain. They were true sons of the Rowling House, their families rooted here for generations.
By custom, the house's private soldiers, guardian cavalry, and even the lord's personal guard were chosen from the "kin" of the Rowling Plain. Every lord believed this ensured loyalty and devotion to the family. For instance, the current earl's chief guard, Alpha—a swordsman and mentor to the earl's second son, Gabri—was born and bred on the Rowling Plain.
Though these cavalry had been disheartened by their exile from the imperial capital, the joy of returning home now washed away their melancholy.
Du Wei watched the jubilant riders from his carriage, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he grasped the reason. "Marde," he called, "have we crossed the Rowling River?"
"Yes, my lord," Marde replied, urging his horse to the carriage's side. His face, too, glowed with quiet pride. "We're home."
Du Wei glanced at him. "Tell me, Marde, were you born in Kurt Province?"
"I was raised in the capital, my lord, but my father was a true son of the Rowling lands," Marde said, his smile widening. "He served the Rowling House as a groom his whole life, and I followed in his steps."
He hesitated, then leaned closer, lowering his voice. "My lord, if I may… there's something I should mention."
"What is it?" Du Wei asked, his tone light.
"Your words just now… they weren't quite right," Marde said, his face unusually solemn.
Du Wei raised an eyebrow. "How so? Speak freely."
"You asked if I was born in Kurt Province," Marde explained, watching his master carefully. "That's not how we speak here. Though the Rowling Plain lies within Kurt Province, no true son of the Rowling House would call themselves a 'Kurt Province man.' We say, 'I'm a Rowling Plain man!' It's a matter of pride, my lord. To be of the Rowling House is an honor we carry in our hearts. So, when you speak to others of our kin, please—never say 'Kurt Province man.' Call them 'Rowling Plain folk.' Otherwise, you might wound their feelings. And… as the eldest son of our lord, your words carry weight. You mustn't slight the pride of our people."
Du Wei was struck by the earnestness in Marde's voice. Even a former groom could speak with such fierce loyalty. Perhaps… he had underestimated this family.
Gazing at the cavalry, their faces alight with unfeigned pride, he thought: Only a truly great house could inspire such devotion.
In that moment, Du Wei's thoughts turned to the earl in the capital. A father who had pinned his hopes on his eldest son, only to find him labeled a fool. For a man bearing the weight of a storied lineage, the disappointment must have been crushing.
Du Wei had once dismissed his father's coldness toward him. But now, standing on this ancestral soil, he understood. A father might accept a flawed son, but a patriarch could not allow a weak heir to jeopardize a great house's future. The earl's distance, his rejection—it was, in its way, forgivable.
For a fleeting moment, Du Wei's mind wandered, lost in thought.
Marde, noticing his master's faraway look, was startled. Since serving Du Wei from the age of six, he had known him as calm and unshakable, his face a mask of composure. When had he ever seen such a vulnerable expression?
"My lord," Marde ventured softly, "shall we continue home?"
"Home…" Du Wei murmured, the word stirring something deep within. A sudden, unstoppable thought surged forth.
Home!
In that instant, a spark of clarity pierced the fog that had clouded his heart for years.
Yes, home.
For someone who didn't belong to this world, what he lacked most was a sense of belonging. His detachment, his guarded emotions, his deliberate restraint—they stemmed from a single truth: he had never truly seen himself as part of this world. He had viewed it as an outsider, a spectator watching a play unfold. That distance had bred his coldness.
Home… What a beautiful word.
What he yearned for now was exactly that—a place to belong.
For the first time in years, Du Wei felt a strange anticipation for what lay ahead on the Rowling Plain.
Watching the proud cavalry, he wondered: The Rowling Plain… might I find my place here?
He hoped so.
If returning to his true home was impossible, then finding a new one—a haven for his heart—was the next best thing.
After all, since he was here, life had to go on.
Bathed in the glow of the setting sun, Du Wei pushed open the carriage door and stepped out. He left the dim, confining compartment, emerging from the shadows into the radiant dusk.
The light bathed his face, dispelling all gloom. A smile touched the boy's lips… and for the first time in ages, his expression carried a trace of warmth.
It was a feeling called hope.