Chapter 887: Book Debate Club

Ragnora snapped out of her reverie, shaking her head as if to dispel the lingering emotions that had settled over her.

She didn’t want to dwell on the past any longer. Not when it made her feel so vulnerable.

Straightening in her chair, she fixed Cassius with a keen, challenging look.

"Anyway." She said, her voice regaining its usual commanding tone. "Even though I’m genuinely surprised you’ve read so many romance novels, there are certain things you said earlier about the stories that I simply cannot accept, Sir Cassius"

Cassius raised an eyebrow, his competitive spirit immediately igniting.

"Oh? And what exactly did I say that was wrong?"

"Several things," Ragnora replied, already rising from her chair and moving toward the hidden bookshelf. "Your interpretations of certain characters, your analysis of particular plot points..."

She pulled out a book and held it up. "’The Crown of Winter Roses,’ for example."

"What about it?"

"You claimed that Lady Seraphine’s decision to reject Prince David’s proposal was foolish and shortsighted."

Ragnora shook her head firmly.

"I completely disagree. She was protecting him. Had she accepted, his political enemies would have destroyed them both."

Cassius stood as well, moving to join her by the shelf.

"That’s exactly my point. She was so focused on protecting him that she failed to consider what he wanted. Prince David would rather have faced those enemies together than live without her."

"Her sacrifice wasn’t noble...it was selfish, disguised as selflessness."

Ragnora opened her mouth to argue, then paused. Her brow furrowed as she considered his words.

"I... hadn’t thought about it from that angle." She admitted slowly.

Cassius’s face split into a smug grin. "See? My interpretation is perfectly valid."

Ragnora shot him a flat look.

"That’s simply one book. What about this one?!"

She grabbed another volume from the shelf.

"’The Ashes of Yesterday.’ The death of Sir Gareth was completely unnecessary. The author killed him purely for shock value."

"Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong,"

Cassius countered, leaning against the bookshelf with practiced nonchalance.

"Sir Gareth’s death was the catalyst for Lady Alanda’s transformation. Without that loss, she would never have found the strength to confront her family. His sacrifice gave her story meaning."

"Meaning?" Ragnora scoffed. "He could have lived and she still would have grown. The author simply took the easy way out—using tragedy to force character development rather than earning it through natural progression."

Cassius opened his mouth to respond, then closed it. He

"...I forgot about the scene in Chapter twenty-two." He admitted. "Where she stands up to her father at the autumn ball. That happened before Gareth’s death."

"Exactly!" Ragnora’s eyes gleamed with triumph. "Her development was already underway. Gareth’s death wasn’t necessary—it was necessary!"

"Alright, fair point," Cassius conceded, raising his hands in surrender. "When you put it that way, I can see why you found his death frustrating."

Ragnora felt a surge of satisfaction—not just from winning the argument, but from the sheer joy of having an argument about books at all.

This was something she had missed desperately.

The back-and-forth, the exchange of ideas, the thrill of defending her interpretations against someone who actually understood the source material.

She pulled another book from the shelf, then another, and soon they were deep in discussion—debating character motivations, dissecting plot twists, comparing different authors’ styles.

Cassius matched her point for point, his knowledge of the material as comprehensive as her own.

"’The Serpent’s Kiss.’" Ragnora said, holding up a slim volume bound in green leather.

"Overrated." Cassius said immediately. "The twist ending was predictable from Chapter three."

"Predictable?!" Ragnora’s eyes widened with outrage. "How could you possibly have predicted—"

"The mysterious stranger who kept appearing at convenient moments? The unexplained hostility between the two rival families? The way the protagonist’s love interest conveniently disappeared whenever the stranger appeared?"

Cassius ticked off each point on his fingers.

"It was obvious they were the same person."

Ragnora stared at him shock. "I didn’t figure it out until Chapter twelve."

"That’s because you were emotionally invested. You weren’t looking for the clues."

"And you were?"

"I’m always looking for clues."

Arguments were made, countered, refined, and countered again.

Sometimes Cassius won the point. Sometimes Ragnora did.

More often than not, they reached an uneasy truce, acknowledging that the other’s interpretation had merit even if they couldn’t fully agree.

They discussed not just the stories themselves but the authors who wrote them—their lives, their influences, the historical contexts that shaped their work.

They talked about how certain books had shifted public opinion on matters of politics and culture, how one novel’s sympathetic portrayal of a mixed-race couple had allegedly influenced marriage laws in three different provinces.

And the more they talked, the more Ragnora found herself impressed.

Cassius wasn’t simply well-read...he was insightful in ways she hadn’t expected.

He noticed details she’d overlooked, drew connections she’d never considered, and defended even his most questionable interpretations with a blend of logic and passion that made her genuinely reconsider her own positions.

And Cassius, for his part, discovered that the fearsome Commander of the Blood and Iron Brigade possessed one of the sharpest literary minds he’d ever encountered.

Her readings were meticulous, her memory for detail extraordinary, and her arguments constructed with the same strategic precision she no doubt applied to military campaigns.

They were perfectly matched.

By the time they finally paused, the dining table was buried under a small mountain of books they’d pulled from the shelves for reference.

Both of them were slightly breathless, a fine sheen of perspiration on their brows—not from physical exertion, but from the sheer intensity of sustained intellectual combat.

Ragnora leaned back in her chair, her chest rising and falling with deep, satisfied breaths.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this way—this light, this unburdened, this thoroughly, completely content. It was as though a pressure she’d been carrying for decades had finally been released, and in its absence, there was only peace.

"I have a question for you." Cassius said, interrupting her reverie.

She turned to look at him—and found herself facing a wall of books.

Between them on the table, the stacks had grown so tall that even her considerable height wasn’t enough to see over them.

Smiling despite herself, she reached up to move the books aside.

But Cassius was already rising from his chair.

"Wait. Let me."

Before she could respond, he walked around the table and settled into the chair directly beside her, so close that his knee brushed against her massive thigh.

Ragnora felt a shiver run through her body.

This was ridiculous.

She had marched shoulder to shoulder with men through mud and blood and worse.

She had carried wounded comrades in her arms.

She had spent her entire adult life surrounded by soldiers.

But something about Cassius’s closeness made her pulse quicken. Perhaps it was the intimacy of the setting—the quiet house, the flickering firelight, the late hour. Or perhaps it was simply him.

She did not pull away. She didn’t dare move at all, for fear that he would notice her reaction.

"What did you want to ask?" She managed, her voice steady despite her racing pulse.

Cassius smiled at her, that same easy, disarming smile that had charmed everyone from the soldiers to the fairies.

"Actually, I wanted to ask about something more personal. Not about the books themselves, but about...why you read them."

Ragnora’s entire body stiffened.

For a split second, panic flashed in her golden eyes, but she quickly forced herself to relax, waving a hand airily.

"I already told you! It gives me peace and quiet away from all the chaotic military duties. It’s good for my mental rest. Plus, the storylines are unique, unpredictable, and fun to read."

"That’s all there is to it."

"That’s part of it, certainly." Cassius agreed. "But I don’t think it’s the whole story."

Ragnora’s unease grew. "Why would you say that?"

Cassius leaned back, considering the question carefully.

"I’m not entirely sure." He admitted. "It’s just a feeling I have. The way you talk about these books—especially the way you talk about the female characters..."

He paused, meeting her eyes.

"You keep inserting yourself into the story. Saying things like ’if I were in her position’ or ’that’s what I would have done.’ You don’t just read these novels, Commander. You live them."

Ragnora’s eyes trembled. "Did I really do that?"

"Several times." Cassius confirmed. "I found it rather endearing, actually."

He leaned closer, his blue eyes searching her face with an intensity that made her want to look away.

"Most people read romance novels for entertainment. Escapism. A pleasant diversion."

"But you...I feel as if there’s something deeper driving your love for these stories. Something more personal."

Ragnora opened her mouth to deny it—to brush off his observation with a casual dismissal. But before she could speak, Cassius held up a hand.

"Of course, you don’t have to tell me anything." He said gently. "If this is a sensitive topic, I understand completely. But if you’d like to share your thoughts...I’m here to listen. And I promise—whatever you say, I won’t judge you. I won’t look at you any differently."

His words struck something deep within her.

I won’t judge you.

I won’t look at you any differently.

How long had she waited to hear those words?

How many years had she guarded her secret, certain that anyone who learned the truth would mock her or pity her or see her as something less than the warrior she had become?

And yet, sitting here beside Cassius, she felt something she hadn’t felt since Florence’s passing.

She felt safe.

This man was chaotic, unpredictable, and occasionally inappropriate. But there was a sincerity beneath his playfulness, a genuine warmth that made her believe his promises.

’You can trust him.’ A voice whispered in her mind. ’You can tell him anything.’

The realization settled over her like a warm blanket.

She could trust him.

"Before I say anything." She began slowly. "I need you to promise me something."

"Anything."

"This cannot leave this room. Not a word of it. Not to anyone." She hesitated, then added. "Not even to Isabelle. I know she’s your wife, and I know she’s a good person, but—"

"Isabelle." Cassius interrupted gently. "Would probably hit me over the head with a frying pan if I ever revealed a secret you’d entrusted to me."

Ragnora blinked. "A frying pan?"

"She’s very protective of people she admires. And Commander, she admires you more than almost anyone in the world."

He placed a hand over his heart. "You have my word. Whatever you tell me stays between us."

Ragnora studied his face for a long moment. Then, slowly, she nodded.

"Alright."

She looked away, her massive hands clasping together in her lap. The gesture was almost childlike, a stark contrast to her usual commanding presence.

"The truth is..." She took a deep breath. "The reason I love romance novels so much is because..."

"...I’ve never experienced romance myself. Not once. Not ever."

The moment those words were uttered a possessive surge of satisfaction roared through Cassius’s veins.

’Yes! No man has ever held her, courted her, or experienced her affection! She’s entirely mine to claim!’

At the same time, an absolute, profound shock rocked his brain.

’HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE?!’

’A breathtaking, magnificent woman like her should have had an endless line of suitors stretching across the continent! It’s an absolute tragedy! It’s a crime against nature that she’s never been dated!’

He wanted to scream in triumph, to fight the entire world on her behalf, to yell out how ridiculous it was.

But he forced his expression to remain entirely calm and receptive. He knew how fragile this moment was.

"Go on." Cassius said softly, keeping his voice as steady as a calm sea.

Ragnora blinked, slightly surprised. She had fully expected him to look at her with pity or laughter, but his calm, unwavering gaze gave her the exact courage she needed to continue.

"From the moment I was born until now, I’ve never been in a relationship." She admitted. "Not once. But the truth is...I’ve always wanted one."

"I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to be loved..."

"To be cherished..."

"To have someone look at me the way the heroes in these stories look at their beloveds..."

Underneath the table, Cassius clenched his right hand into a tight fist and violently pumped it.

’YES! YES! THANK THE HEAVENS!’

He had to bite the inside of his cheek and pinch his own thigh with brutal force just to keep himself from jumping up and doing a victorious dance around the room.

Ragnora, entirely oblivious to his internal madness, turned back to him with a gentle, slightly bashful expression.

"If you want to fully understand why things turned out this way...I suppose I have to tell you the story of my life. I don’t know if you’d mind listening to such a long tale..."

"Please, Commander."

Cassius interjected instantly, leaning in even closer, his thigh now firmly pressing against hers under the table.

"Go on. I’d absolutely love to hear your story!"

The close proximity and the steady warmth of his leg against hers made Ragnora’s breathing stutter for a brief moment, but seeing his genuine, rapt interest, she looked down and began her tale.