Staring at the scene with unwavering seriousness, I turn again to Beatrice.
"Betty, I entrust you with healing him slightly to expedite his conscious recovery process," I say while nodding solemnly at her.
Beatrice nods understandingly as she approaches the thief cautiously. With surprising gentleness, she channels her healing energy towards him, hastening the awakening of his consciousness and ensuring he can face the interrogation.
The established protocol is always the same: immerse the prisoner in a state of extreme anxiety.
Through this method, I ensure valuable information and elicit sincere confessions, although its effectiveness depends heavily on the situation.
He will wake up at some point, devoid of mana, unable to move a single limb, bound with metal while torture implements like an ice pick, knives, and more are left in his sight.
He won't have enough mana to end his own life if he knows how, so he'll have no choice but to wait awake for our arrival.
The prisoner's anxiety will be at its peak, and I'm confident he'll succumb to the need to speak.
However, as we await the opportune moment to extract valuable information from him, my mind wanders to other thoughts.
"I wish Puck were here," I murmur inwardly.
His presence would indeed be useful in this situation. It would have been a perfect complement to our current efforts. As I ponder this, I navigate through the hallways of the mansion that houses us, carrying Emilia.
My goal is to take her to her room to rest after having had too much to drink during the previous meeting. But before reaching there, I sense an urgent need: Emilia needs to use the bathroom. Waking up in the middle of the night for that can be quite bothersome.
I quickly change my course, deciding to momentarily overlook her bedroom.
"Uhm..." she murmurs sleepily as she starts to wake up slowly, opening her eyes slightly in confusion.
With care and infinite tenderness, I firmly hold Emilia in my arms as we move towards our designated destination: the main bathroom of the castle.
"Mar...co?" Emilia whispers with a sleepy voice, rubbing her eyes gently as she tries to process the unusual situation, she finds herself in.
However, her expression lights up with joy, and her arms encircle my neck in a gesture of trust and affection.
"You're carrying me like a princess hehehe," Emilia laughs tenderly, not taking her eyes off me, radiating gratitude for the care I provide.
"Well, it's the least I can do," I affirm solemnly as I come to a stop upon reaching our destination.
I release a sigh filled with concern as Emilia resists leaving my arms. Her firm grip demonstrates her profound joy in the situation.
"I can't allow her to drink any more mead," I reflect internally as I contemplate the potential consequences if I don't control her.
With determined resolve but gently persuasive, I try to lower Emilia from the embrace in which she insists on clinging tightly.
Although I'm glad that Emilia enjoyed the unexpected gathering, I know she'll likely suffer a hangover tomorrow. However, her magical healing abilities will alleviate any discomfort she may experience.
"Do you want me to use magic, I suppose, to remove the effects on Emilia, indeed?" Beatrice suggests using magic to eliminate the effects of excess on Emilia, but I shake my head.
"Let her be," I respond calmly. "She was the center of attention today, and it's better to end it that way. Indulging her a bit is not a bad thing; she has worked hard and deserves it."
However, before retiring to rest, I remind Emilia of her imminent need to use the bathroom. I offer to wait patiently while she fulfills that basic task.
Emilia looks at me with a slightly displeased expression and pouts childishly.
She looks away while speaking in a reproachful tone, "I won't go until you call me 'princess.' They always used to call me princess in the Elior Forest..."
Her words evoke tender and intimate memories of her lost childhood, hidden in the shadows of time. My gaze seeks silent approval from Beatrice, seeking permission to share this bond between Emilia and me. She was the one I initiated it for, so it's only fair to ask.
At first, I perceive a momentary displeasure reflected in Beatrice's piercing eyes; however, she nods understandingly as if grasping the emotional significance behind the gesture.
"If it's her, I don't see a problem, I suppose."
With extreme care, I lower Emilia to the ground, watching her closely as she stands with some unsteadiness.
"Princess Emilia," I whisper in a soft and affectionate tone, fulfilling her wish and honoring that special connection.
Emilia gazes at me, her eyes shining with gratitude and affection, though still showing a bit of wobbling due to the effects of the earlier excess.
Gently, I remove the hood covering Emilia's face to ensure she can go to the bathroom comfortably.
Her amethyst eyes still reflect a slight longing as she eagerly awaits my words. I seize this moment to adjust her hair and fix my gaze on her captivating eyes.
"Your knight will always be by your side, Princess Emilia," I murmur tenderly, aware of how meaningful this silly yet emotion-laden game can be for Emilia. I evoke memories hidden in her childhood, when she was treated like a princess but lived within the confines imposed by others.
How many years has she carried that longing within her?
If even under the influence of alcohol, her thoughts turn to that ancient desire, it must be something deeply rooted since then.
Emilia doesn't usually show excessive affection towards others, although she possesses a contagious life energy and an animated spirit. However, there are moments when she reveals a special fondness for those going through difficulties or concerns.
This aspect of hers has gradually changed over time, but I know it will be difficult for her to express these emotions openly due to the fear of being judged as childish or judged by her appearance.
However, in the face of my reassuring and promise-laden words, she smiles radiantly while Beatrice holds her hand kindly. It's best to let them go together to the bathroom to avoid any major mishaps while I wait patiently.
"Hehe, I always wanted to have a knight," Emilia declares with laughter.
Once Emilia comes out of the bathroom, she extends her arms towards me with a playful smile lighting up her face. The look in her eyes invites complicity and play.
"Carry me to my room," she mischievously requests.
Perhaps I should have asked Beatrice to use her magic to remove her state of intoxication, but I can't resist fulfilling Emilia's wishes, at least for now.
I gladly accept the challenge and respond, "As you command, Miss Emilia."
I carefully place my hands on her legs and back, holding her as if she were a princess. She watches me as she wraps her arms around my neck, establishing an intimate connection between us.
"I have a knight!" Emilia exclaims, singing off-key melodies with grace as she kicks the air cheerfully. "Marco, my knight! Marco! Hehehe."
I'll definitely play a prank on her when she wakes up as a little revenge for making me endure her off-key singing.
Her voice is sweet but lacks the gift of tuning; although she has practiced a lot for public speeches, she still needs to master melodic rhythms properly.
Beatrice laughs along with us, though she doesn't have exceptional vocal skills either. I'm not an expert or good at singing, but at least I can maintain the musical rhythm.
We finally reach Emilia's room: a more modest space compared to the grand rooms of the main mansion. A three-bedded, as expected, although this one doesn't have an attached bathroom. Perhaps it was acquired rather than custom-designed, but honestly, I don't care too much.
A desk is positioned in front of the window, adorned with white curtains that allow the gentle passage of natural light. A modest wardrobe displays delicate carvings in its wood. Although the room is spacious, the elements and furniture are scarce.
As we move towards the bed, Emilia suddenly stops me.
"Marco," she whispers close to my ear, leaning in using her arms for support, "lie down with me, my knight."
I suppose the alcohol has truly started to affect her. I'm not sure if she means what I have in mind, but it's not something I would want to do. Taking advantage of someone under the influence of alcohol is simply unworthy, even if that person asks for it.
If there was no prior intention, it wouldn't be appropriate to act on it. Anyway, we're talking about Emilia, and it's clear she means sleeping together.
Beatrice pulls gently at my jacket, shooting me a glaring look. I smile because she has probably also misunderstood Emilia's words. It's incredible to think she could have such impure thoughts; my girl has a very twisted imagination.
"Miss Emilia, we're not in the main mansion, and that would be suspicious," I respond kindly. "It's one thing to carry you to bed, but staying to sleep with you would raise many suspicions."
However, there's something else I can do to fulfill her wishes. She continues clinging to me as her lips occasionally brush against my ear.
"You're naughty," Emilia whispers, lightly biting my ear, catching my senses off guard. "You're bad, even when I've tried so hard."
She laughs and kicks her legs in a display of her childish discontent.
"I just want you to sleep with me. Is that too much to ask? I don't want to spend the night alone," Emilia looks at Beatrice, "I also want to sleep with Betty... the three of us. Okay?"
I sigh resignedly at her intentions. Tomorrow we have a lot to do, and we need to prepare for the whale's attack. Being a little indulgent is not bad, and I'm also somewhat affected by alcohol, so I'll just go with it.
"Very well, if that's what you desire, I can only obey," I respond with a resigned smile.
While holding Emilia in my arms, she leans in once more and plants continuous kisses on my cheek, followed by little childish giggles. Her joy is overflowing, as if she has never experienced such affectionate companionship. Although I know fortune granted her that.
"Hehehe, I've never had a knight like this," she admits with a sweet voice full of happiness. She's worse off than when we drank in the mansion; it seems that mead is dangerous for her. Or maybe Emilia simply has a low alcohol tolerance.
"You make me happy, Marco. For someone who was locked up for so long, I was always alone, and having you is..." Emilia gives me a final kiss filled with deep emotions.
Carefully, I lay Emilia on the bed as she continues to smile. I know she'll wake up embarrassed tomorrow if she remembers what happened. Beatrice seems annoyed, prompting her to lean down and take the initiative to kiss my other cheek.
"Hmpf! My knight turned out to be quite the ladies' man, indeed," Beatrice says as she throws herself onto the bed, rejecting any action from me.
I decide to take off my jacket and shirt to avoid sleeping uncomfortably. I have a thin shirt nearby. I quickly head to my room, change, and then return to the room where Emilia is.
"Where are you? Marco!" Emilia looks around for me, struggling to get up.
The lesson of the day is clear: never give alcohol to Emilia. I'm sure I'll never forget this episode, and I'll establish a rule for all citizens to avoid offering her alcoholic drinks.
Emilia looks at me coquettishly from the bed, extending her arms toward me. Her narrowed gaze seems to reveal a deep longing as her lips become more prominent under the faint moonlight that illuminates her silky silver hair.
With a tender and serene voice, she asks, "Come, let me sleep with you."
I lean slowly over the bed, supporting my hand as she wraps her arms around my back and exerts a gentle pressure to bring me closer to her. Emilia smiles conspiratorially as she slowly and carefully places me on her chest, surprising me. She leans down to give me a kiss on my head, laden with emotions.
A feeling of warmth runs through my entire body, but I can also feel the intense heat emanating from the deep emotions that Emilia holds within her.
"Marco, I know I make you work soooo much, but I also want you to know how much I love you. Soooo much, soooo much," her words cling to me as her voice trembles slightly. "That's why I want to always be with you, to work together."
She loosens her hug a bit, and I settle on the bed while she lies on my left arm, embracing me tightly. I place my arm around her back, gently hugging her as she uses me as a pillow. She smiles and extends her other free arm around my torso to envelop me in her caresses.
"Hehe, you're so comfortable..." Emilia asserts before falling asleep.
Beatrice snuggles up against my right arm, leaving me completely trapped between the two of them.
"Betty's Marco is perfect for sleeping, undoubtedly, indeed," Beatrice looks at me with tenderness. "Betty also loves you a lot, I suppose."
If someone were to witness this scene or if this were a written story, I'm sure it would arouse the envy of many. When we're under the influence of alcohol, we become vulnerable and act without inhibitions; that's why I don't blame Emilia for her behavior. After all, it was me who suggested drinking and expected some unusual reaction from her.
But I never imagined it would become so close to me. I hope it's another kind of emotion that beats within her.
The gentle breaths of both lull me slowly into sleep. It has been an exhausting day, but despite the stress, I managed to achieve my goals and chart new paths.
What awaits us now is the confrontation with the whale. Everything must be perfect; the cannons will do a significant part of the work, and I have a good chance of attacking it using flying magic. I am confident that I can defeat that creature without a doubt.
Although I fervently wish for this peace I feel at this moment to last forever, I know deep within that sooner or later, circumstances will turn chaotic. It is an inevitable reality.
That's why I must be strong.
That's why I can't afford to have obvious weaknesses.
I can't allow myself to fall in love, not in the midst of all this that is happening. Even if my heart were to surrender to someone, I must kill that emotion instantly.
I must control my heart and emotions as much as possible.
The weight of everything rests on me, so it's best to stay alert at all times.
I have no right to falter; I myself stripped myself of that privilege on that fateful day.
When I pulled the trigger...