A Crusader with System in the Middle Ages

”You...” Eleanor wanted to curse, but she’d never had the experience in her entire life. ”Awful! Awful! Awful!”

Then she stormed out of the main hall.

Eric finished gnawing on the chicken leg, stood up, and tossed two silver pence to the two Minstrels.

”Eric, where are you going?” Jeanne tugged on the corner of Eric’s tunic.

For some reason, ever since Jeanne learned Eric’s name, she only ever called him by his name.

”To find my wife,” Eric said, stroking Jeanne’s head.

”Is she your wife?”

”Of course.”

”But you’re a Priest.” Jeanne frowned and looked up at him, clearly displeased. ”That’s not right, Eric.”

”Not anymore. Now I’m a Baron. She is my wife,” Eric said, sitting back down.

”I don’t understand. Yesterday you were still a Priest, Eric.” She lowered her head. ”Are you a bad monk? My father said only bad monks do things like that.”

”Er... alright, I was just joking. But I should still go say hello. In a little while, Miss Egiva will show you to your room to rest.”

Eric patted Jeanne’s head, stood up, and prepared to leave.

”I don’t want to be here. I want to sleep outside. I don’t want to stay in the castle,” Jeanne said, standing up as well.

”There are wolves outside at night, Jeanne,” Eric said, trying to scare her.

”I can sleep in a tree. I know how to do it without falling out. When I’m alone, I like sleeping in trees,” Jeanne said seriously, putting her hands on her hips.

She said it as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

”You... fine. You win.” Eric slapped his forehead. ”Alright, how about I just go to the latrine? I drank too much tonight.”

”I’m getting a little sleepy, Eric,” Jeanne said, sitting back down. She rested her arms on the table and tilted her head to look at him, the candlelight reflecting in her pale gray eyes.

”Alright, alright. I’ll be right back. I won’t keep you waiting long.” Eric placed another rabbit leg on Jeanne’s plate.

Jeanne watched Eric walk out of the main hall.

Now she was the only one left in the main hall. Oh, right, and two second-rate Minstrels.

They didn’t slack off just because Jeanne was a child; in fact, it made them perform with even more vigor.

They sang:

”Though we may not survive this day,

One thing I can promise you,

The gates of holy Heaven will open for you,

And you will sit amongst the immaculate Angels.

May the glorious God protect your souls,

And bring them to paradise, to rest among the sacred flowers...”

But Jeanne paid them no mind.

She just sat there at the dining table, all by herself, tearing off little bits of meat from the rabbit leg.

Before she had picked the entire rabbit leg clean, Eric returned.

”Want any more?” Eric asked with a shrug.

”I was full a long time ago.” Jeanne set the bone aside and wiped her hands on her trousers.

Then she walked over to Eric’s side and took his hand.

Eric led her out of the main hall.

”I’ll sleep in a tree,” Jeanne said, looking up at Eric.

”No, you’ll sleep in a room. That’s how it’s going to be from now on.”

”If I’m sleeping alone, I want to sleep in a tree,” Jeanne said, her voice a little stubborn.

”But I am here.”

”Really?”

”Really.”

Looking at Jeanne, Eric suddenly recalled something from long ago.

Laughter and music still drifted from the other halls.

They passed through a rather dim corridor, went up a flight of stairs, and entered a small room.

Two candlesticks had already been placed in the room.

The floor was paved with gray stone tiles, left bare without a carpet. There was, however, a tapestry on the wall.

The tapestry seemed to depict a noblewoman from a past century bathing an infant, but she was holding the baby by its legs, dangling it headfirst into the tub.

In the clouds above, listless Angels accepted the infant’s drowsy, winged soul. Meanwhile, at the bottom of the tapestry, a black Devil with fangs at the corners of its mouth—along with a host of other, stranger Devils—accepted the mother’s rapturous soul.

A lion with human hands clawed at the woman’s chest. Beside it, the largest Devil had twelve eyes and a fiery-red, circular mouth.

It seemed to stand on the legs of an owl. Its black hand was placed between the legs of the woman’s soul, two fingers thrust into her body up to the knuckles.

”Disgusting,” Jeanne said, hiding behind Eric.

”Only through the distorted can we see the true essence of things. It’s nothing unusual.” Eric took the tapestry down, laid it face-down on the floor, and used it as a makeshift rug.

Eric then lifted Jeanne onto the bed and tucked her in.

”Eric, you’re going to take good care of me, right?”

”It is God’s will, so I must obey. I am a Cultivator, Jeanne. His servant.”

”You said you were a Baron.”

”When I was your age, I went through something similar, Jeanne.

”I don’t for a moment think that I achieved everything I have now by myself.

”If I hadn’t been lucky enough, if God hadn’t favored me, I think I would’ve ended up in some ditch long ago.

”So I won’t defy His will. He wanted me to save you. So I will...”

”You said you were a Baron.”

”Jeanne.”

”You said you were a Baron. You said you were a Baron. You said you were a Baron...” Jeanne repeated the words, over and over.

Eric: ”...”

Finally, Eric took off his robe and lay down on the bed, right beside Jeanne. She hugged his arm.