Marriage Proposal
The Count was about to pick up the exquisite silver teapot and pour himself and his daughter a steaming cup of black tea to enjoy a rare moment of father-daughter reunion when Karl unexpectedly made another "unreasonable request."
His sharp gaze swept over Karl's obviously tense yet unusually determined face, and he couldn't help but put down the teapot.
He let out a soft, enigmatic chuckle and said, "Lord Karl, you seem to have an unusually large number of requests today? Fine, considering the great service you've rendered to the Northern Territory... speak, but this must be the last one."
Karl breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that the most crucial moment had arrived.
He took a deep breath, as if gathering all his courage, and met the Count's scrutinizing gaze with utmost seriousness, speaking clearly and solemnly:
"My Count, this last request concerns my life's most important matter," he said, turning slightly to glance firmly at Charlotte beside him, whose cheeks were already flushed and who was so nervous she was almost holding her breath. Then he turned back and said, word by word, "I implore you... to allow me to marry Miss Charlotte Rochfort."
After he finished speaking, the office fell into a deathly silence.
This silence was longer and more somber than any before.
The Count's hand, which had just picked up the teacup, froze completely in mid-air. The ease and playfulness on his face vanished instantly, replaced by utter astonishment and disbelief.
His deep eyes swept back and forth between Karl and Charlotte, as if trying to see right through them.
Karl straightened his back, his gaze calmly accepting the Count's scrutiny, even though his heart was pounding wildly in his chest.
Charlotte dared not look up at all. Her fair cheeks burned like fire, and even her ears and neck were flushed. Her slender fingers gripped the hem of her dress tightly, her knuckles turning slightly white from the force. Her heart was filled with shyness, anticipation, and immense unease.
Time seemed to stand still; the crackling fire in the fireplace only served to amplify the suffocating silence.
After an unknown amount of time, the Count finally and slowly placed the teacup back on the table, making a soft clinking sound.
He leaned back in his wide chair, crossed his arms in front of him, his gaze becoming incredibly deep and complex. Finally, he spoke slowly, his voice low and unreadable:
"Marry... Charlotte?" he repeated, his tone as if confirming an absurd fact. "Karl von Schmidt, do you know what you're saying? Did I hear you right?"
"Your Count understands perfectly well," Karl replied without hesitation, his voice firm.
The Count turned his gaze to his daughter, who was almost burying her head in his chest. His tone softened slightly, but it still held a scrutinizing quality. "Charlotte, my daughter, lift your head, look me in the eyes, and tell me, is this your own will? Or have you been... pressured or manipulated?"
Charlotte trembled slightly upon hearing this. She took a deep breath and forced herself to raise her head to meet her father's sharp gaze.
Although her cheeks were still burning, her eyes were unusually firm, even carrying a hint of stubbornness rarely seen in her life. "Father... this is my own choice, I... I am willing to marry Karl, no one forced me."
The Count stared at his daughter for a few seconds, seemingly trying to find any hesitation or pretense in her eyes, but all he saw was unwavering determination.
He nodded slowly, his gaze returning to Karl, his tone becoming more serious and realistic:
"Karl, I admire your courage and acknowledge your ability and achievements. However, marriage, especially between nobles, is never a matter between two people, much less a matter that can be decided by momentary impulse or camaraderie on the battlefield."
His fingers tapped lightly on the table as he began to list the practical problems. "You are the second son of the Schmidt Family. Although you are now developing the Northern Territory, your family background is complicated, and your reputation in Franklin... is not without its flaws, is it?"
"Charlotte is my only daughter. Her marriage involves the stability of the Northern Territory, the interests of the family, and even the views and balance of power in the Royal Capital."
He leaned forward slightly, his gaze piercing. "What is your father, Duke Schmidt's, attitude towards this matter? Is he aware of and has he approved of your proposal to the daughter of the Governor of the Northern Territory? Does this represent some kind of... intention of the Schmidt Family regarding affairs in the Northern Territory?"
Karl felt a chill run down his spine, realizing that the Count's considerations went far beyond simple romantic feelings.
He answered frankly, "My lord, this matter is purely my personal wish and has not yet been reported to the family. My father, Old Schmidt, and I have not had much contact. My relationship with Charlotte has nothing to do with the family's stance; it is purely due to our mutual understanding and affection developed while fighting side by side."
"Not yet reported..." the Count repeated, a hint of understanding and a more complex expression flashing in his eyes.
He remained silent for a moment, seemingly weighing countless pros and cons.
Finally, he slowly exhaled, his gaze sweeping over Karl and Charlotte's expectant and nervous faces, and made his decision.
"Karl, Charlotte," his voice regained its calmness, yet carried an undeniable authority, "I understand your intentions, but this matter is of great importance and cannot be decided hastily."
He looked at Karl, his tone becoming unusually serious. "You say this matter has nothing to do with the family, but your surname dictates that it can't be unrelated. I need time to observe, I need a more suitable opportunity, and more importantly..."
The Count's gaze sharpened, as if piercing through walls to look towards the northern wasteland. "Having Sauron such a crushing defeat, Harald will not let this go unpunished. His next revenge will be even more ferocious and intense, and Carnford will undoubtedly bear the brunt."
He stared at Karl and said, word by word, "You say you want to marry my daughter? Fine, but my daughter, Rochfort's daughter, will never marry someone who cannot prove he can survive in the Northern Territory, who cannot protect his own land."
"So, let's put this matter aside for now," the Count made his final decision, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Wait until after this autumn's harvest, until the Sauron's southward raids are about to once again target Carnford, and you... Karl von Schmidt, are able to once again lead your people and army to successfully defend your fortress, proving that you have the ability to establish yourself in the Northern Territory, the ability to protect my daughter..."
He paused slightly, his gaze deep. "Let's discuss the engagement again, after all..."
The Count's voice lowered, carrying a chilling reality. "I don't want my daughter to be engaged to someone who's about to enter his grave."
These words were like ice water poured over Karl and Charlotte's burning hearts, instantly sobering them up and making them feel the immense pressure and heavy reality.
Silence fell in the office again. A hint of disappointment flashed in Charlotte's eyes, but more so, she was worried about Karl.
Karl clenched his fists tightly. The Count's words, though cold, were incredibly realistic and ignited an even stronger fighting spirit within him.
He raised his head, his gaze unwavering, and met the Count's eyes. He solemnly declared, "I understand, Count Excellency. I will prove to you with my actions that Carnford will never fall, and I... will never become a dead man."
"Very good," the Count nodded, his face revealing neither joy nor anger. "I look forward to your performance. Now, you may leave."
Karl and Charlotte exchanged a glance, both seeing complex and indescribable emotions in each other's eyes.
After bowing to the Count, Karl quietly left the office.
The heavy wooden door closed behind him, shutting out the Count's profound gaze and heavy expectations.