I Will Be the Greatest Knight
Chapter 77: Change of Plans

Chapter 77: Change of Plans

Arthur was faced with the very end of the flooding season. He knew that he had been pushing it a little bit hard since his heart was spread across Chemois in pieces with his daughter on one side and his son and wife on another.

To get to the Duke’s Tower at the tail end of winter was a risk in itself, then returning home when the floods had only just left was an entirely new issue altogether. Each time his horse had to jump over a lower point full of water, he knew he ought to be diligent in the path forward. To break his horse’s ankle due to his need to see his wife was a death sentence for the animal.

As much as there was friction in his life with Rochelle since their daughter went off to be an apprentice, in her arms was still his home. The life he created with her would always be there. He felt almost giddy.

A man this size feeling giddy. The thought caused him to shake his head at how ridiculous he knew he was being.

He took the journey slow, leaving early in the morning and arriving late the following day. However, he knew it was the smart thing to do.

When he saw his large home in the distance, he forced his horse to move faster. He had the lands memorized and knew that there wouldn’t be any more problems with water or mud since they weren’t right next to the river.

There were only two knights left in the township as he approached and he acknowledged them quickly. He continued to his home where he left his horse to a stable hand and rushed through the front door.

Would there be dinner left over? When could he take in the lilac scent of his wife that only he was allowed to smell?

His hair was in disarray as he pulled off his helmet and bounded up the stairs. There he found his armor stand in the hallway where it always stood and he quickly took it off, wishing for a moment he had the help of an apprentice but deciding against it. Other good knights deserved an apprentice more than he.

Knowing the time of day it was, Arthur first went to his son’s room where the child slept soundly without a care in the world. He stepped forward as quietly as possible and placed the blanket back over the small child’s body.

His excitement hadn’t ceased yet and he rushed to his room, opening the door without so much as a knock.

Blackness. Nothingness.

His red eyebrows lowered and his heart began to race. The house was too peaceful for something bad to have happened.

His wife was an early sleeper. She wouldn’t be far.

He quickly rushed to the library. No fire—not even a candle lit.

Then he went downstairs to his main study where it was cold as well.

The knight rushed through the house until he found the nursemaid who had watched his children for as long as he could remember.

"Where is my wife?" he asked breathlessly, resisting the urge to grab the maid by her shoulders and shake her out of the frustration he felt.

"She is with your mother, my lord," the woman responded lightly, almost hesitantly. "Ought to be returning soon."

He didn’t need more explanation. The man rushed away even before the woman finished speaking and he went right out the front door of his house where he nearly barreled over the very woman he had been so desperately looking for.

"Roch..." he muttered and his arms went around the woman who smelled of outdoors and cold. Effortlessly, he lifted her so he could bury his nose in her neck. "My Rochelle. Where have you been?"

Arthur wanted to hear it from her mouth rather than the maid’s. While Rochelle had always been kind to his mother, they were unbelievably different from one another. Everything rough about Arthur was due to the woman who raised him. His wife, on the other hand, was unbelievably soft.

He brought them back into the house and finally let her feet touch the floor again because he could feel her pushing against his chest to try to escape.

The woman’s chin quivered and she practically crumbled but Arthur lifted her once more.

"She’s so sick, Art," the woman cried. "I don’t know what’s happened."

Even though he carried his wife, his eyebrows lowered and he felt unreasonably angry.

"I told you to write me if something ever happens," he reminded her. "Whatever the cost of sending a letter by mage, I am not worried about it."

"I have been too busy to pen you a letter," Rochelle snapped in return. "I go there every morning and take care of her. I bring Arne back to go to sleep. Then I go to her once more and try to convince her to stay with us. I’m so tired, Arthur. That horrible house she insists on living in. I’ve had enough. You must convince her to stay here while she’s sick."

He placed his wife down on the bed they shared and he went to light their candles so that they could see one another better.

"I will go visit her right now," he insisted.

"Don’t," Rochelle warned, standing up immediately despite how exhausted she truly did look. "Once I get her asleep with the herbs the healer gave me, she needs to stay asleep and hope to heal. She’s too active. Whatever this is won’t heal unless she rests."

Arthur’s fists clenched. He was tired but he couldn’t bring himself to sit still after learning that his mother was in poor health.

"You need to stay here and take care of her, Arthur," Rochelle said. "I can’t keep doing this. If she continues to refuse to come here... I don’t know."

Arthur was the one to settle on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands as he tried to think of a fair solution to the entire ordeal.

The reunion with Rochelle wasn’t what he hoped for but he was understanding about the twists and turns of life.

The following days were just as expected. He would see his mother who was more frail than he ever remembered seeing her and with a cough that seemed to originate from deep in her chest.

Yet, even though she was warned to rest, she still puttered around, even insisting she go outside and take care of the usual things despite Arthur’s efforts to stop her. She also refused to leave the house that she built with her own two hands when they first arrived in the valley.

However, the winter had been rough to it, and he imagined that was the reason she had fallen so ill. Her age was certainly not helping fight off whatever she had caught.

For a couple more days, Arthur did what he could to plaster and patch the house to make it more suitable and honor his mother’s wishes to remain there with all the memories of her life in Chemois.

However, it didn’t quite yet solve what Rochelle would do once his duties returned and he had to be a better knight than husband as he often had to.

He then recalled that he should have sent Irene a letter far earlier than that. It nearly slipped his mind that the very woman who was sick was supposed to be taken to the Duke’s Tower under the guise of helping Irene with her bowmanship.