The Grand Duke's Soulmate
Chapter 345: A Shared Night

Chapter 345: A Shared Night

The warhorse thundered through the darkened path as the couple ventured away from the bustling heart of the capital and descended towards the County of Medhir.

"Drystan, slow down!" shouted Sylvia, her voice barely audible over the pounding hooves as the knight urged the horse on.

The cold wind whipped against her face as they raced against time.

"We must hurry! It’s going to rain, Sylvie!" Drystan exclaimed, paying little heed to her concerns.

He had observed the sky and anticipated a turn in the weather, but he hadn’t expected the menacing clouds to gather so quickly, forming a dark anvil ready to unleash its fury. The rhythmic sound of the horse’s hooves echoed through the night as they pressed on.

However, it didn’t take long for the weather to take a turn for the worse. Raindrops began to fall from the ink-black sky, drenching the earth beneath them.

Drystan continued to push the warhorse harder, but as the rain intensified, obscuring their vision, he realised they had to halt their journey. The treacherous conditions posed a risk of the horse stumbling on the uneven road and causing an accident.

While Drystan himself wouldn’t have minded braving the downpour, he couldn’t endanger Sylvia’s safety.

"We can’t go on!" he declared, his voice strained. "We need to find shelter!"

"But where?" Sylvia asked, wiping the rainwater from her face. Her robe clung to her body, soaked through by the relentless downpour.

"I saw a barn when we passed through here earlier," the knight replied, scanning the surroundings. And indeed, not far from them stood an abandoned barn.

"There!" Drystan pointed, relief washing over him. "Let’s make for it!"

He guided his warhorse towards the barn, thankful its roof remained intact, shielding them from the deluge.

Drystan dismounted and assisted Sylvia in descending from the horse. He secured the steed to a sturdy pole, ensuring its safety.

Sylvia shivered, her trembling hands struggling to remove her drenched robe as the cold seeped into her bones.

"Stay here. Let me check the area first," Drystan instructed, taking preventive measures.

Sylvia nodded, her teeth chattering as she watched the knight cautiously venture forward. With keen observation, he scanned their surroundings, searching for potential threats. The barn’s interior revealed scattered items and dried hay, indicating recent abandonment.

Drystan gathered suitable tinder, selecting pieces that would catch fire easily and sustain a flame. Noticing a pile of dry hay, he carefully collected a handful that remained free from moisture and mould.

Positioning himself at the centre of the barn, the knight arranged the gathered items and knelt. He then pulled a leather pouch from his belt, opened it, and retrieved a fire striker.

He firmly gripped the handle and pressed the metal striking edge against the embedded flint. With deliberate and controlled force, he struck the flint with the steel, creating a shower of sparks.

As the little fire cascaded onto the prepared tinder, he blew gently to encourage the emerging embers to grow. The combination of the sparks and the dry, combustible tinder caused it to smoulder and catch fire.

Drystan carefully nurtured the flame, shielding it from the barn’s dampness. He gently added dry kindling and small pieces of wood, strategically arranging them to ensure proper airflow and fuel for the growing fire.

Gradually, the fire began to crackle and emit warmth, casting a comforting glow throughout the barn.

Illuminated by its light, he surveyed their surroundings again. The barn, ageing and weathered, stood on sturdy pillars, bearing the marks of time with cracks and knots etched into its weathered planks. Some sections were warped or missing, offering glimpses of the interior through the gaps.

Parts of the roof sagged under the weight of accumulated debris, and missing shingles left patches where rainwater had seeped through. Fortunately, the spot they had chosen remained dry, untouched by the rain.

Suddenly, Sylvia uttered a piercing scream, her fear evident as she spotted a tiny pest scurrying across the floor. In a panic, she leapt onto Drystan’s back.

"Cockroach! Cockroach!" she shouted in distress.

The knight was taken aback by her sudden reaction, but a chuckle escaped him as soon as he heard her exclaim about the insect.

"Get down from me. It won’t harm you," he reassured her.

"No! I’m scared of it!" Sylvia replied, her face filled with fear.

"I’ll take care of it. Just get down from me first."

"What if it comes near me?" she asked, concerned about the potential risk.

"It won’t. Stay close to the fire and remain still," he advised.

Convinced by Drystan’s confidence, Sylvia cautiously descended from the knight’s back. She positioned herself near the fire as instructed while the knight took a few steps forward.

He approached his warhorse and retrieved a small bag containing a yellow powder. Carefully, he distributed the powder evenly on the floor, creating a protective barrier with the fireplace as its centre.

"What is that?" asked Sylvia, curious.

She wrinkled her nose as a pungent odour wafted from the yellow powder.

"It’s brimstone. It helps ward off insects, mites, and other pests," Drystan explained.

"It’s so smelly!" she exclaimed, covering her nostrils with her finger to shield herself from the unpleasant scent.

"We don’t have much choice. If you don’t want the cockroach near you, you’ll have to bear with the smell," he replied.

Sylvia sighed, realising her options were limited in this situation.

"Fine. Just make sure you spread it properly," she conceded.

"Don’t worry. You’ll get used to the smell soon. It’s better than having a snake around," the knight reassured her.

"Snake? There could be snakes in here?" she asked, her voice trembling with fear.

"This is a deserted barn. There’s a possibility," Drystan replied.

"Pour some more! Please!" Sylvia pleaded.

The knight suppressed a laugh as he observed Sylvia’s panic. He continued completing the barrier.

"It’s done," he announced after a moment, satisfied with his work.

Drystan approached the noble lady and extended his hand.

"Give me your robe. I’ll hang it up. It’s completely soaked."

"Where can we hang it? There’s no rack here," Sylvia asked, confused.

The knight scanned the area again, his gaze falling upon the sturdy pillars. He retrieved a long, thin rope from his warhorse and began to tie it between two pillars, creating a makeshift drying line.

"You certainly carry many useful items in your saddlebag," Sylvia remarked.

"A knight should always be prepared for any circumstances," he replied with a hint of pride.

As he glanced at Sylvia, he noticed her trembling hands. Concern etched his face.

"You’re cold. Stay close to the fire. It would be best to remove your outer garment and hang it to dry," he suggested.

"I can’t do that! I’m a maiden!" Sylvia protested, blushing at the thought.

"Hey, I’m not forcing you. I’m just giving a suggestion based on your condition," the knight clarified.

"I’m not taking off my clothes in front of you! What kind of person do you think I am?" Sylvia retorted.

"Suit yourself. If you get sick, don’t blame me for it," the knight responded nonchalantly.

With that, he proceeded to remove his wet attire, revealing his robust figure as a knight.

"Wha... What are you doing?" asked Sylvia, stammering.

"I’m drying my clothes, of course. Can’t you see that I’m all wet here?" he said.

Sylvia’s face flushed red, and she quickly averted her eyes from his well-built body. Sensing her embarrassment, Drystan chuckled.

"Don’t worry. I’m not planning to get n*ked in front of you. If you’re uncomfortable looking at my body, you can close your eyes or look away," he reassured her.

"I’m not! Most of my family members are male, so I don’t feel uncomfortable looking at men’s bodies. It’s a common sight for me!" Sylvia defended herself.

The knight scoffed.

"Yeah, right. Whatever."

Drystan hung his clothes on the drying line, leaving only his pants on. Then, he settled down by the fire, positioning himself near Sylvia to warm up.

"How long do you think the rain will last?" she asked, her voice threaded with worry.

The knight raised his head and glanced outside. The rain poured down heavily, obscuring their view of the surroundings.

"I think it might rain for quite a while... a couple of hours perhaps," he replied.

"Oh, no! My father and mother must be worried sick! I should have returned home by now," Sylvia lamented in distress.

"It’s too dangerous to continue our journey in this rain. Visibility is poor, and it’s pitch dark out there," Drystan explained, trying to alleviate her guilt.

"My grandfather, parents, and uncles will scold me for coming home late," Sylvia mumbled, her gaze fixed on the ground, her emotions evident.

"It’s not your fault. We didn’t anticipate the rain coming so soon. I’ll explain the situation to them when we return, " the knight assured her. "After all, I’m your chaperone for tonight."

Sylvia nodded though a sense of foreboding weighed on her.

Drystan gathered a stack of hay to create a makeshift bed. Then, he handed Sylvia a warm beverage.

"What is this?" she inquired.

"It’s a tonic made by Mr Norman. It helps warm our bodies. You’ll feel better after drinking it," he encouraged her.

Sylvia nodded and sipped the tonic. Although the taste was slightly bitter, she immediately felt its soothing effects.

"Thank you," she expressed her gratitude to Drystan.

"Go lie down and get some sleep. I’ll wake you up when the rain stops," he instructed.

"What about you?" Sylvia inquired, worried about his own rest.

"I’ll stay up and make sure no cockroaches disturb your sleep," he said mischievously.

"Drystan!" Sylvia exclaimed, realising he was teasing her.

The knight let out a small laugh, his eyes twinkling with amusement, as he settled his back against the pillar.

"Go on, have a rest first," he persuaded her.

Sylvia shifted to the makeshift bed and laid down, her body feeling weary and fatigued from the unfamiliar horse riding. It didn’t take long for her to succumb to sleep as exhaustion washed over her.

Time passed, and though the rain had subsided, it continued to drizzle, rendering the road unsuitable for travel. The night grew still, with only the sound of raindrops permeating the air.

Suddenly, a groan escaped Sylvia’s lips. Drystan turned his attention to the noble lady, noticing the furrow in her brow, indicating pain. Concerned, he approached her.

"Sylvie, are you all right?" he inquired, worry lacing his voice.

Another groan escaped her, and Drystan noticed beads of sweat forming on her temple. A surge of concern coursed through him, and he quickly placed his palm on her forehead, his eyes widening.

"You have a fever!"

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