Re:Crafting in Another World
Chapter 71: Marciel

Chapter 71: Marciel

The room still smelled of herbs and old bandages—a quiet place after days of pain. Sunlight came through the tall stained-glass windows, casting soft colors on the clean floor. In the middle of it all, a handsome middle aged man with blond hair, still messy and stuck with dried blood, rested against silk cushions.

His armor was gone, and his wounds, though days old, were slow to heal. Faint bruises marked his skin. The maids moved gently around him, no longer rushing—just quietly changing bandages, adding ointments, and wiping the sweat from his face.

Daniel Marciel sat across from the injured man, legs bouncing with excitement. His younger sister—Elena Marciel—sat beside him, her expression somewhere between worry and admiration. They were both around the same age with the shared golden locks that marked them as Marciels. Her hands clutched her dress while Daniel leaned forward eagerly, eyes glowing.

"Uncle Juno!" Daniel broke the silence, unable to contain himself any longer. "You were amazing out there! I heard you led the charge that pushed back the enemy lines! And you made Leige retreat! Even though they had the upper hand!"

Juno gave a soft chuckle, wincing slightly as one of the maids tightened a bandage. "It wasn’t just me, Danny. The men of my order did most of the work. I just... gave them a little push."

As soon as Juno’s knights heard those words, they looked at each other with confused look, remebering how Juno charged and completely annhilated half of Leige army.

"But you turned the whole war!" Daniel said, practically glowing with admiration. "I’ve never even heard of someone doing something so reckless and brilliant at once!"

"He’s right," Elena said, her voice softer. "What you did... was reckless. But it saved lives."

Juno smiled faintly, eyes flicking from nephew to niece. "Well, it’s good to see I’ve still got fans."

Just then, a heavy cough echoed from the corridor. Everyone turned. Juno’s eyes narrowed, recognising the sound before the man even entered.

Duke Jarek Marciel, head of House Marciel, strode in with the weight of the ducal mantle on his shoulders. His presence sucked the air out of the room—stern, authoritative, and colder than the northern snows.

He didn’t stop until he stood before the couch. His eyes swept over Juno, taking in the torn flesh, the bandages, the bruises.

"How is your injury?" he asked simply.

Juno gave a lopsided grin. "I’ve had worse. Thanks to Order, I got out with my life. They even brought the best healers."

Jarek’s gaze shifted to the knights standing vigil behind Juno. "Thank you," he said, his voice clipped but sincere.

One of them, a tall man in ornate armor, bowed deeply. "It is our duty, Your Grace."

Juno turned his head slightly. "Wait outside. I’ll call if I need you."

With disciplined precision, the knights bowed in unison and exited, the click of their boots echoing until silence reclaimed the room.

Only then did the Duke speak again.

"Tell me, Juno... Did you use Ebonfang?"

Juno’s smile didn’t waver. "Yes. Just as I expected—I haven’t lost my edge."

"Are you insane?" Jarek’s voice cracked like a whip.

Juno blinked, momentarily stunned.

"You have no value for your own life, do you? You keep throwing yourself into danger like you’re some common foot soldier!" Jarek’s hands clenched into fists. "Did you think what would happen if you died out there? Did you think about us? About your family?About the consequences?"

Daniel looked at his father in disbelief. He expected more praises from father, but then daniel was reminded what kind of a person his father was. His father and His uncle were too diferent.

Elena’s eyes lowered, and she slowly shook her head.

"I agree with Father," she whispered. "Uncle Juno... You’re too important for us to keep risking your life like this."

Juno lowered his head. For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air. Then a soft chuckle escaped his lips. "Someone has to do it. Might as well be me."

"You never change," Jarek muttered, rubbing his temples. Then he straightened, voice sharp once more. "That’s exactly why I’ve spoken to the other Duke houses. I’ve arranged a dinner."

Juno raised an eyebrow. "Dinner?"

"To meet a girl," Jarek said. "A potential bride."

"You what?" Juno snapped upright, wincing from the movement. "I told you not to do this!"

Jarek’s voice softened, just for a second. "Brother... You can’t stay alone forever."

"I’m not—"

"You are." The Duke stepped forward. "You carry Marciel blood in your veins. That comes with duty. Legacy. You need an heir."

"I have an heir!"

"No," Jarek said, steel in his voice. "You had an heir."

The room went silent. Daniel flinched. Elena closed her eyes.

"Father..." Daniel said cautiously, knowing it was a sensitive subject among their family.

But Jarek wouldn’t be stopped. "I’m done tiptoeing around this. This is not just about you anymore, Juno. Daniel. Elena. Do you want your uncle to die alone? With no one to pass on his name, his memory, his—"

They said nothing.

Jarek turned back to Juno with finality in his eyes. "Once you’re fully healed, you will attend the dinner. You’ll talk to the girl. You’ll move on. From her and your daughter."

He didn’t wait for an answer. With a final look, he said, "Recover fast, brother. Daniel—walk with me. I need a word."

Daniel hesitated, then stood and followed his father, sparing one last glance at his uncle. The door shut behind them.

Elena turned toward Juno. "...Are you sad, Uncle?"

Juno leaned back, staring at the ceiling for a moment. Then he chuckled. "Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not. Who knows?"

"But..." Elena hesitated. "Lad Meryl... You really loved her, didn’t you?"

Juno’s eyes dimmed a little. "She was the only one who saw me as me, not a sword or a title. And I lost her. Not in war. Not to a blade. I don’t think I can forget about her or my daughter."

Elena didn’t know what to say.

Juno closed his eyes, a small smile curving on his lips. "But your father’s right. I can’t keep living in the past forever. Doesn’t mean I’m ready for candlelit dinners and matchmaking though."

She gave a tiny giggle. "Maybe the girl will be ugly."

Juno burst out laughing, clutching his side. "Don’t make me laugh, my dear niece! That hurts!"

Elena grinned. "Serves you right, reckless hero."

Meanwhile, the gravel crunched softly beneath their boots as Daniel walked beside Duke Jarek Marciel.

Daniel kept his hands behind his back, walking with practiced grace and a composed expression, despite the quiet tension lingering in the silence.

"So," Duke Jarek’s voice finally broke through the quiet, deep and commanding, "how are you doing at the academy?"

Daniel bowed his head slightly. "Everything is going smoothly, Father," he said respectfully. "The coursework is manageable, and the environment is... disciplined. We’ve also ensured no harm comes to Princess Maria Harlow, as per our arrangement."

The Duke gave a slow nod, his sharp eyes flickering sideways toward his son. "Is that so?"

There was a pause.

"I’ve heard," the Duke said with the faintest smirk, "a few complaints. Something about you initiating an... unwanted relationship with the princess."

Daniel blinked. "Father, if you’re referring to Vice President Famina Aluvre, she’s jesting. I’ve made no such advances. I merely respect the capabilities of Her Highness."

"She’s jesting, is she?" the Duke chuckled. "That girl and her family always did like stirring the pot."

Daniel allowed a small smile. "Yes. She thrives on drama, Father."

"Well," the Duke continued, his tone softening, "you don’t have to explain yourself. I believe in your judgment, Daniel."

Daniel looked up, surprised.

"But remember this—" Duke Jarek halted, turning to face his son squarely. "I raised you to understand what the Marciel name stands for. Prestige. Honor. Power and we are not known as fools. You carry our legacy on your shoulders. I trust you won’t do anything to tarnish that, no matter how charming a princess may be."

"Of course, Father." Daniel gave a short bow. "I won’t disappoint the family."

Jarek grunted approvingly. "Good."

He turned on his heel, but paused once more.

"Take care of Juno," he added, voice quieter this time.

"I’ll send a carriage to pick you both up this evening. Don’t be late." And with that, the Duke walked away, his cape fluttering behind him like a storm cloud passing through a peaceful sky.

Left alone on the academy path, Daniel stared ahead in thought. The wind brushed his hair, and distant laughter from knights of Order 1 echoed. But his mind was elsewhere.

He looked down, remembering about a certain black haired lady.

Princess Maria...

He didn’t understand her. She was clever, yes. Proud, naturally. But sometimes—just sometimes—he saw a glimmer of something more in her. A girl who was carrying deep sadness. She was searching for something. She was fighting for something and Daniel could feel it.

"I wonder what she’s doing right now," he muttered.

Stadia - Capital of Sturgon – Near Westlane Market District

Princess Maria Harlow was currently doing something entirely unbecoming of a princess from royalty yet along a commoner lady.

She was, quite simply, raiding every single sweet shop in the capital.

"Next!" she cried with bright eyes, her long dark hair tied into a high ponytail that swayed as she moved like a general on the battlefield. "That almond honey cake looks divine. I’ll take two!"

"Yes, Your Highness!" stammered the pastry clerk, bowing deeply as he handed over the goods.

She turned with a grin, already chewing on one of the pieces. Behind her stood two Harlow knights and two from Sturgon’s royal guard, all looking both exasperated and utterly defeated.

"Your Highness," one of the Sturgon guards, Sir Elric, said nervously, "perhaps we should pace ourselves. You’ve already tried six bakeries..."

"And I have twelve more on the map!" Maria declared with fire in her eyes. "A princess must understand culture, and sweets are the language of love, Sir Elric."

The knight blinked. "...Is that a proverb?"

"It is now!" she said brightly.

At that moment, a passing merchant paused to stare at her. Maria had that effect on people.

Despite her casual attire—fitted riding pants and a deep blue cloak over a dark tunic—there was no mistaking her royalty. Her sharp emerald eyes, straight posture, and confident gait drew stares everywhere she went. Yet it was her smile—genuine, unguarded, and slightly mischievous—that made heads turn twice.

Her Harlow knight, Lady Kaela, sighed deeply. "My lady, is this amount of sweet not bad for you?."

"It’s called morale-boosting," Maria said, licking a sugar-glazed peach tart. "Besides, I haven’t had a day off in weeks. I deserve this."

"Your training—"

"Is already done for the morning. Do I not deserve some treat for doing my best?"

Kaela opened her mouth, then closed it. She couldn’t argue that.