The Forgotten Field

“Ah... I see.”

There was nothing else he could think of to add.

Whether he noticed the line of men staring at him in utter bewilderment or not, the man calmly mounted his warhorse and gave a casual nod.

“Sorry for delaying the journey.”

Then, as though nothing whatsoever had happened, he urged his horse forward.

Tyron felt all the strength drain out of him and slowly slid the sword in his hand back into its scabbard.

Daren opened his mouth, trying to ease the awkward atmosphere.

“You've heard that Her Grace the Grand Duchess is expecting a child, haven't you? Since it's her first pregnancy, His Grace has been rather concerned. Her Grace has always had a small appetite and is terribly particular about what she eats. That's why he's been paying extraordinary attention to her meals.”

'He doesn't seem all that different from before...'

Glancing at his lord's retreating back, Tyron swallowed the sarcastic remark that had risen to his throat.

This was the man who had impaled a giant nearly three meters tall with a spear simply because he had dared lay a hand on his wife.

And when the Grand Duchess had collapsed?

As if bringing every rare ingredient from the Central Region hadn't been enough, he had even personally attended to her meals like a servant.

Now that she was carrying his child, it was painfully obvious how much worse he would become.

“I've also heard the joyful news that Your Grace will soon have an heir. My sincerest congratulations, Your Grace.”

The merchant, who had been quietly following a short distance behind them, suddenly inserted himself into the conversation. He seemed fully aware that his fate rested in the hands of the young Grand Duke.

The same man who had worn a constant expression of dissatisfaction throughout the journey from the North now plastered an oily smile across his face and eagerly began currying favor.

“Our guild has also prepared a modest congratulatory gift. We heard that Her Grace the Grand Duchess enjoys fresh fruit, so we mobilized our entire trade network to bring freshly harvested fruit from across the continent... though I cannot be certain whether it will suit Her Grace's tastes.”

The Grand Duke, who had just emerged from the forest and begun climbing the hill, glanced back over his shoulder at the merchant.

For the first time, a trace of interest appeared in those eyes that usually regarded others no differently than inanimate objects.

“I heard you reside in the North. Yet you seem remarkably well informed about affairs here.”

“The ears and tongues of merchants move faster than the wind, Your Grace. The rumor that Your Grace has been searching everywhere for rare fruits for the Grand Duchess has spread throughout every merchant guild.”

“...Let's hope that information network of yours isn't used where it shouldn't be.”

At those quietly threatening words, a faint tension crept across the merchant's polished face.

Only now did he seem to realize that this was not a man who could be won over with petty bribes or shallow flattery.

He swallowed nervously, forced an awkward smile, and lowered his eyes.

Watching him with a chilly expression, Varkas urged his horse forward once more.

Tyron hurried after him, increasing his pace.

Before long, the massive walls surrounding Kalmor rose into view beyond the hill.

Riding ahead, Daren raised his voice in a thunderous command.

“Zram warriors have been sighted in Argand Forest! Dispatch search parties immediately and reinforce every route across the northwestern frontier!”

The booming order echoed across the walls, and the soldiers standing in formation atop the battlements immediately scattered, evidently rushing to relay the news to the garrison.

Leaving that commotion behind, Varkas passed through the city gates and rode across the heart of the city.

At last, the towering walls surrounding Laedgo Castle filled their entire field of vision.

Entering through the gates, Tyron slowly looked around the castle he had not seen in nearly a month.

Surrounded once again by familiar sights, exhaustion he had not even realized he was carrying suddenly washed over him.

Climbing down from his horse, he rubbed his aching shoulders.

When he had departed for the North under Varkas's orders, the atmosphere had been teetering on the brink of war.

Now those tensions had subsided beneath the surface.

The Season of Repose had begun, restricting part of the supply routes leading into the North.

Varkas had also pressured the conservative nobles politically, forcing them into a corner.

Some of the northern aristocrats had begun sensing that the situation was taking an unfavorable turn and had started exercising caution.

If they could seize control of the North's trade network during this opportunity, then {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} even House Heimdal would no longer dare provoke a war so recklessly.

'Now it all depends on how we win that man over.'

Tyron glanced toward the guild master, who was quietly whispering with his subordinates in one corner of the courtyard, before shifting his gaze back to Varkas.

The Grand Duke was handing the game tied to his saddle over to the servants.

Seeing how utterly unconcerned he looked, Tyron felt his shoulders sag once again.

Apparently, whether a rebellion would break out or not concerned his lord far less than what dishes would appear on his wife's dining table.

Removing his dirtied gloves, the man calmly issued careful instructions to the servants.

“Roast the one with the most tender meat. Clean the rest properly and make stew. Don't overdo the spices.”

“We understand.”

The servants accepted the five pheasants and immediately hurried toward the kitchens.

Judging by how smoothly they moved without the slightest hint of surprise, this clearly wasn't the first time he had personally brought back fresh game.

Surely...

His main purpose for joining this patrol hadn't actually been hunting?

Watching Varkas with growing suspicion, Tyron suddenly noticed the man stop in his tracks just as he turned toward the main keep.

Following his gaze almost instinctively, Tyron unconsciously caught his breath.

Near the entrance to the keep, beside a small fountain, sat a blonde woman wrapped in silver fur.

The moment he saw her face, surrounded by the pale light of winter, his mind went completely blank.

The first time they had met, she had possessed an eerie presence.

She had seemed so fragile, as though she might shatter into countless pieces at any moment.

Yet now that same woman radiated a languid vitality, her entire being glowing with a pearly brilliance.

Still spellbound by the unreal sight before him, he watched the ruler of the East stride straight toward her.

“Why are you out here?”

The woman, who had been gazing dreamily at the sky as though lost inside a waking dream, slowly turned her large eyes toward her husband.

A faint smile spread across the face that was usually so cold and distant.

“I came out to watch the snow.”

“It isn't time for snow yet.”

“No, it snowed a little earlier. If I wait, it might start again.”

“You could watch it from inside your room.”

“If I stay cooped up in the bedroom all the time, I feel suffocated. Besides, Marisen said it's better if I move around a little.”

Apparently tired of listening to his scolding, the woman frowned slightly.

“If you're going to lecture me every single time I step outside, then why did you even give me this fur cloak?”

“I didn't give it to you so you could wander around the castle this defenseless.”

“What's wrong with how I look?”

The corners of her eyes lifted in irritation.

Her eyes were flushed as though she had a slight fever, giving her an oddly alluring appearance.

Perhaps struck by the same impression, an unfamiliar tension briefly crossed the face of the man who usually looked as though he had been carved from marble.

Oblivious to it, the woman continued pressing him.

“Well? Tell me. Is there something wrong with how I look?”

The man, whose lips had drawn into a tight line, let out a long breath.

He removed the cloak draped over his shoulders and tossed it to the attendant standing behind him.

Then he carefully lifted his wife into his arms.

“Please bear with it for a moment, even if I smell unpleasant.”

Before she could even protest, he strode toward the entrance of the keep.

Everyone gathered in the courtyard watched the scene in stunned silence.

It was hardly surprising.

With their radiant golden hair, blue eyes, and skin as white as ivory, the two of them looked like beings separated from the mortal world itself.

“...They truly are a perfectly matched couple.”

The northern merchant murmured in admiration.

Something about those words sounded strangely off to Tyron, making him frown.

It was certainly true.

Like a perfectly matched pair of magnificent horses, they suited one another astonishingly well.

It was almost impossible to believe that the two of them had spent years as little better than sworn enemies.