The Road of Life

As the noise of the wedding banquet gradually subsided, Princess Louise, supported by her maids, excused herself, saying she was tired, and went to her bedroom on the second floor to rest.

Several disgruntled royal officials, seemingly wanting to vent Albert's anger, took turns toasting Karl, trying to get this "unruly" border Lord drunk and make him embarrass himself on his wedding day.

However, they underestimated Karl.

Although Karl was only a novice when it came to drinking, he was still far superior to these pampered court officials.

Karl accepted all offers without hesitation, calmly drinking glass after glass of ale and wine, his eyes growing ever clearer.

On the contrary, the officials, after several rounds, became red-faced, unsteady on their feet, and incoherent in their speech. In the end, they could only be helped away by their companions, leaving in a sorry state.

Soon, the noisy music and chatter in the vast Lord's Hall disappeared, leaving only the soft crackling of burning wood in the fireplace.

Only Carnford's core officials remained around the long table: Edgar, Morr, Brendan, Lyon, and others.

The wedding banquet, which had just been full of ceremony and diplomatic rhetoric, seemed to have turned back into a routine military and political meeting in Carnford in the blink of an eye, except that the smell of wine, meat and incense still lingered in the air.

Karl didn't get up; he remained seated at the head of the table, a knife in his hand, idly cutting the now-cold roasted venison steak on his plate. His gaze was somewhat unfocused, as if he were lost in thought.

Edgar sat in the first seat to his right, sipping the little wine left in his glass, his face flushed with a slight intoxication, but his eyes remained calm and wise.

After a long silence, Karl suddenly spoke, his voice somewhat abrupt in the quiet hall, yet carrying a rare casualness born of letting his guard down. "Edgar, are you... married?"

Edgar paused slightly upon hearing this, then a gentle, slightly self-deprecating smile appeared on his face. He put down his wine glass and gently shook his head. "My lord, I followed the Old Duke when I was young, first as a clerk, then managing the manor, and later being sent to assist you in running Carnford..."

"Over the years, I've been busy, constantly on the go, like a spinning top revolving around the Schmidt Family. Where have I found the time, or the peace of mind, to think about starting a family?"

He paused, his tone tinged with emotion, "Speaking of which, although I am much older than you and perhaps have more experience in human relationships, when it comes to marriage... you have indeed surpassed me."

Upon hearing this, Karl first twitched the corners of his mouth, as if he wanted to laugh, but the smile quickly vanished, replaced by a deeper sense of bewilderment.

He put down his knife, leaned back in his chair, and looked at the leaping flames in the fireplace. His voice deepened. "Walking ahead? Heh, Edgar, to be honest, I... don't know how to face her right now."

He didn't specify who "she" was, but everyone present knew perfectly well.

"In any case, she's my wife in name now, isn't she?" Karl asked Edgar, or perhaps himself. "Just now... when she came down the stairs in her wedding dress and placed her hand in mine... I looked at her, and at that moment, I actually felt a strange feeling... a sense of responsibility as a husband."

He took a deep breath, his tone filled with a confusion he himself couldn't comprehend. "Wife, children, a house... a home of one's own—isn't that the most basic and simple pursuit for most men in the world?"

"Having these things brings peace of mind and contentment. Am I an exception? This is just the beginning; the future is long... I really can... always..."

He didn't finish his sentence, but Edgar fully understood what he meant.

Can he truly remain loyal to Charlotte forever?

In the daily grind of marriage, facing a wife who is nominally present but not particularly unpleasant, will the initial vows and love be worn down by time and eroded by reality?

Edgar paused for a moment. He didn't answer the thorny question directly, but instead said in his usual calm, philosophical tone, "My lord, life is a long journey, full of countless possibilities and uncertainties."

"Perhaps today you're determined to follow a certain path to the bitter end, but tomorrow you might discover a different view at a crossroads that's equally worth pausing for. Some things don't need to be bound to you by overly heavy vows from the start. Follow your heart, but also accept change."

He looked at Karl, his gaze deep. "In truth, one thing is certain: Carnford, this land, its people, are the foundation to which you have poured your heart and soul, and to which your fate is inextricably linked."

"In a sense, Carnford is your most cherished 'wife,' 'children,' and 'house.' Nothing and no one should shake your determination to build and protect it. This is your most fundamental responsibility as Lord."

Edgar's words were like a calming spring, pouring water over Karl's troubled mind.

Yes, regardless of personal emotional entanglements, Carnford's future is a burden he cannot shirk.

Getting bogged down in romantic relationships and neglecting important matters is truly putting the cart before the horse.

Shifting focus back to the development of our territory may be the best way to deal with the current complex situation.

Seeing a flicker of understanding in Karl's eyes, and his furrowed brows relax slightly, Edgar raised his glass, a meaningful smile of blessing and expectation on his face, and said softly, "However, my lord, in any case... I sincerely hope this won't be the only wedding in your life."

Upon hearing this, Karl was taken aback at first, but then he understood Edgar's implied meaning.

He hoped that one day in the future, when the time was right, he could truly break free from his constraints and marry the one he loved.

A warm feeling welled up in Karl's heart. He picked up the wine glass in front of him, which still contained a little less than half a glass of deep red wine.

He didn't speak, but solemnly extended his glass and gently clinked it against Edgar's.

The crisp clinking sound echoed in the hall, like a silent promise and agreement.