Riftan answered in a slightly disconcerted tone, “That’s right. He was a nobleman from Libadon.”
Max suddenly felt faint with Riftan’s confirmation. Did I do something wrong again? There was a nagging suspicion alight in her mind that perhaps things wouldn’t have gone astray had she acquiesced to the man’s demands and offered him a peaceful entry to Anatol…
Seemingly sensing the worries from her scrunched face, he replaced his hands towards her disheveled hair, curling his fingers around her locks carefully before pushing her to him so he could place a chaste kiss on her cheeks. It was a gesture meant to comfort her anxiety. He then proceeded to vanquish any sort of overthinking in her,
“But he wasn’t a feudal lord as he claimed. He was only the son. He wasn’t too favorable of his father choosing his half brother as the successor to the family. Lo and behold, he stole his family treasure and escaped with it to Whedon.”
Riftan softly unbundled the knots in her fiery mane as he continued, “He’s been wandering around the country with the knights who followed him, and then caught a whiff of a rumor that I seized rare treasures from the dragon expedition.”
Max’s eyes widened at this information. “Then… di-did he came here to hu-hurt Riftan?” she replied in a worried tone.
When this question reached his ears, the fingers playing with her locks froze momentarily. For a while, his gaze was only trailed upon her in scrutiny – but very much out of fascination. Max found his steady gaze bewildering and almost retreated from his touch when he suddenly burst into laughter.
“He’s not that insane.” He said, a small smile on his lips, “He just never thought I’d cross the land from Drakium to Anatol in eight mere days. He got his timing wrong, it was far off.”
Come to think of it, Max did remember Ruth telling her that Riftan would be able to shorten the travel from 15 to 10 days should he hurry. For him to be able to curtail that to two more days – he must have been traveling in great haste.
“Or… was it I who got the timing well? Had I been a day or two late… it would have been terrible…” His words suddenly trailed off as he went deep in thought. “He had three men with him that were high-ranking knights. Rob Midahas himself wielded a powerful magic device. It would have been difficult – maybe even impossible – to stop his troops with the remaining soldiers in Anatol.”
“Ma-magic… tools?” Max asked with some uncertainly. The realm of magic and their nuances still came as a strange existence and knowledge to her.
“It was the family heirloom that he stole. A magic tool capable of conjuring a high level flame spell. It’s what turned the gate to cinders.” At the memory of the blown off gate, his face suddenly hardened.
“With Remdragon out of the territory, he might have thought he probably had the chance of winning. In fact, it would have been a struggle to locate him had he robbed our vaults and fled to Libadon by the time I got here.” He growled in anger at the thought, like an awakened beast ready to fight.
Seeing him become more heated, Max anxiously grasped his arm. While she knew his fury was with reason, there still lies the fact that he wouldn’t be able to avoid damaging conflict should he recklessly harm someone of nobility. Even if that said noble did something senseless.
When Riftan looked down and caught sight of her anxious eyes, he only smiled bitterly, apparently aware of this fact as well.
“I was meant to cut his head off and hang it on the wall. An example for those who want to invade our walls. But… it truly would be devastating to engage in a war.”
Max knew Riftan was stubborn to his roots, therefore when she heard the man speak of a compromising tone, she was quite taken aback. “The-then…?”
“At the break of dawn tomorrow, I will be contacting his father. And then I’m going to yell at him to discipline his child after I tell him to compensate for the damage.”
Faced with an answer that spoke of little violence, saved, possibly, for some minor cussing, Max sighed in relief. Riftan was quite satisfied with the idea, even more so seeing that his wife was contented with it. Finally, finding a conclusion to the dreary matter, he began to move his lips to her shoulders, placing soft kisses on her skin as a small smile formed on his lips. His kisses tantalizingly moved towards her decolletage and then to her warming cheeks, and as he moved closer to her Max could smell a fragrant scent from his damp hair.
Suddenly, Ruth’s words came to mind, that of him telling her Riftan would probably pout if he urged him to use scented soap to be more satisfactory in the Madam’s eyes. She couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out from her chest. This, in turn, prompted a curious look from the oblivious watcher.
“Why are you laughing?”
“Well, the, the scent of ro-roses… from yo-your hair…” she frankly began causing a faint blush to cross his cheeks.
“I only thought.. you’d like it more if it smells good…”
Watching him smooth his wet locks hurriedly in embarrassment, Max felt heart tighten.
It was only some time ago when she first met him. Back then, with his menacing words and towering figure, she had surmised he would be as fierce as her father – if not, even worse… Yet she never thought it actually would be the polar opposite. A man that was unlike his external appearance could be so kind to a fault…
And she never thought she would now find him so lovely, this husband of hers whom she had been so afraid of once.
“Um… am I not manly enough?” he suddenly murmured, breaking her off from her trail of thoughts. As he sniffed the lingering scent of soap on his body, something compelled Max to slowly rose despite her drowsy body and softly press her lips over his cheeks. At the soft touch, his reaction was instantaneous: body hardening like a stone.
Realizing her brazen actions, her head felt faint as a searing blush crept to her face. Yet she was resilient on placing one more kiss at the tip of his chin – she might as well go all the way.
“Oh, no. It-it smells go-good. And Riftan, yo-you are… always manly.”
Riftan, who had been struck silent all along finally uttered, “… Then I’ll use this soap for the rest of my life.”
