Chapter 25: The New Recruit (1)

The sun finally dipped beneath the horizon and bid farewell after a day of basking everyone in his sunshine. It yielded the world and gave way to the moon of the night.

As the moon emerged, the stars came along with it, glittering and twinkling like diamonds as they helped to transform the night sky into a canvas of dreams.

In the heart of the campsite, a ring of knights came together to engage one another with tales. The campfire crackled in the middle and danced, sending sparks that spiraled into the night sky and casting shadows on the warriors' faces.

The voices came like melodies, carrying the weight of years spent on the road. Some spoke of their youth and adventure before they had the honor of serving as Marquess Nicolaus' knights.

Stories of recollections flowed like a river from the threads of their life experiences around the campfire. However, Mikael was a bit hesitant initially, feeling like an outsider.

His secrets held him in question where he belonged among these people. But as he relaxed in his seat, he could not resist the warm bond they shared with each other.

Mikael sat next to Nicolaus, his watchful gaze absorbing the lively banter before him. They were seated at the entrance of their tent, which had been arranged in a manner that resembled a cozy terrace. The tent's flaps were drawn back, generously letting the cool night breeze flow through.

Mikael's attention drifted from one face to another within the feast. Soon enough, his gaze settled on Talon, who had been chuckling at something said within the group at his table.

On the other hand, Beth had just placed a heaping plate of meat on the table in front of Mikael, and the smell of the cooked meat swam to his nose.

During the stories recounting battles being shared by the knights, Nicolaus, ever so stealthily, slipped his arm around Mikael's waist.

A gentle heat surged through Mikael, painting his cheeks warmly despite the night's cold air. He shifted slightly on the spacious chair they were sharing, making an effort to withdraw Nicolaus' arm around him.

As he tried to move away, he noticed Nicolaus' usual stoic face glancing in his direction.

Yet, in response to Mikael's attempt to distance himself, Nicolaus showed no intentions of letting go. Instead, he tightened his grip on Mikael's waist, gently but firmly, and pulled him closer.

Now, they were nestled together on the long chair, their sides pressed warmly against one another.

'Urgh.'

Mikael's brows furrowed in a moment of surrender, frustration evident on his features. He tore his gaze away from Nicolaus and led it back to the knights.

What caught his attention, however, were their knowing grins being passed around among the knights.

Their eyes had a twinkle of amusement, clearly finding it entertaining to see their Marquess and Marchioness caught up in such an intimate moment.

Mikael couldn't help but feel self-conscious. He leaned in slightly to Nicolaus and whispered his discomfort, "Do we have to do this here? In front of everyone?"

Unfazed by the teasing gazes, Nicolaus brought his lips near Mikael's cheeks, his voice a husky murmur meant solely for his ears.

"Of course. It's part of the act," he replied, his warm breath brushing Mikael's ear, sending an electrifying shiver down his spine. "But if you prefer it private... Then, that's fine with me, too."

Mikael caught on to Beth, who had rushed to fill Mikael's glass of wine before striding away, cheeks tinted with a matching blush on her ears. Mikael glanced at Talon, their gaze locking momentarily before he swiftly shied away.

The knights encircled one another, forming loosely bound circles with mugs filled to the brim with ale. Their spirits soared, and laughter filled the air. It was all good fun until it took a teasing turn.

One particularly bold knight from the rest, Sir Reynard, raised his mug high. With a spirit, he hollered, "A toast, my comrades! To the Marchioness and Marquess! May their love be as timeless as the stars above and fierce as this campfire!"

The assembled knights cheered exuberantly and clinked their mugs together in a boisterous display of support, their uproarious laughter rippling along.

It was then that Sir Daelan, mischief dancing in his eyes, rose from his seat and called out, "Aye, but words alone will not be enough, my lord and lady. Actions, they say, speak louder, do they not?" His words hung in the air, drawing the attention of all present. "A kiss! A kiss from the couple to seal their love from one another!"

The knights erupted in cheers and wolf whistles, their enthusiasm indisputable. Caught off guard, Mikael exchanged an anxious glance with Nicolaus, who had a playful twinkle in his eye.

"I am waiting, my dear wife," Nicolaus teased with a sly smile, his words hanging like a naughty challenge. "The stage's yours."

Mikael was momentarily puzzled, his brow furrowed as he tried to grasp the meaning of Nicolaus's subtle message. It soon became unmistakably clear; Nicolaus wanted him to take the lead.

He wasn't sure he could do it.

No, he did not want to.

However, Nicolaus continued to press him, nodding to divert his attention to the cheering knights.

With the gentle, flickering light of the campfire casting a warm, golden hue across the campsite, Mikael realized there was no way out.

The playful banter of the knights grew louder and more insistent, their calls of "Kiss! Kiss!" ringing in his ears like a joyful chorus. The pressure was rising.

"Mikael," Nicolaus called; his voice was the last string.

As if guided by an intangible force that had pushed him, Mikael surrendered to the moment. He closed the distance between himself and Nicolaus. With his eyes sealed, their lips met in a soft, lingering kiss that defied the time.

The knights roared with cheers, clapping each other on the back like they had won a grand accomplishment.

A rush of embarrassment painted Mikael's cheeks with a crimson hue, and he swiftly pulled away. Yet, beneath the awkwardness, a genuine warmth simmered and lounged long, refusing to fade with time.

Little did Mikael know that Talon had seen the exchange from a distance.

…

As the first light of day tiptoed over the horizon, the sun remained concealed below the world's rim, cloaking the sky with a blanket of blues and violets. The air this early hour gave one's lungs invigorating freshness.

Positioned within the heart of the camp, Talon found himself surrounded by a circle of knights. Their faces glistened with sweat brought forth by their intense practice routine.

Among the group, a handful had decided to discard their shirts, baring their torsos to revel in the air, tiny beads of sweat crawling down their sun-kissed skin.

On the flip side, others had kept their shirts on. Their garments clung intimately to their bodies, highlighting the lines and contours of their muscles. The fabric had become a second skin adorned by pools and patches of sweat.

Yet, on this particular morning, they all had abandoned their morning drills early for a sparring session. There was something more to this occasion, something known to everyone.

It was a tradition for recruits joining the ranks of the knights, a way to officially welcome the newest member into the brotherhood.