Previously
Sienna realizes she has regressed to the past, specifically to the time of the Serojan victory before her marriage. She resolves to live differently this time by avoiding the Grand Duke and preventing their mutual tragedy, even if it means Soliet will never be born.
How to Part with You Completely, Episode 7
Theodore’s easygoing nature was ordinarily his greatest strength, but at this moment, it was nothing short of a headache.
“I have no intention of returning to the capital with the Grand Duke’s help.”
“Excuse me…?”
“I mean exactly what I said. I refuse to return under that kind of debt.”
Theo’s face showed he still did not understand. His large eyes blinked blankly.
“Besides, it wouldn’t be right to inflict that on the Grand Duke either.”
Sienna muttered as if talking to herself.
It was true enough. In the past, by bringing her back to the capital, he had drawn the Emperor’s unnecessary wariness upon himself.
So this time around, she intended to avoid crossing paths with him in Lopawell by any means necessary. There was no stopping the army from coming here, but she could certainly manage to avoid meeting him face-to-face.
Lost in her grave thoughts, Sienna added as though an afterthought had just struck her:
“Oh, of course, if you want to return on your own, by all means.”
“You expect me, your personal knight, to go back alone without my master?”
Theo let out a dumbfounded laugh. Yet Sienna remained resolute.
“What does it matter? As you said, that bastard Joseph will grant whatever the Grand Duke asks. Would he really refuse to pardon just you?”
“Your Highness. Please mind your words. What if someone actually hears you?”
Theo glanced outside with an anxious look and whispered under his breath, but she did not care in the slightest.
Let whoever wanted to listen, listen. Having already died once and returned to life, there was nothing new to fear. Having been banished all the way out here merely for spitting in his face, being accused of treason over uttering a single name carried little weight to her.
On top of that, the Emperor periodically dispatched guards to deliver letters to Theo. Though Theo kept quiet about it, the contents of those letters were obvious enough.
Setting aside the fact that Theodore Monches was a fine knight, he was also the cherished kin of Count Monches. Moreover, since the Count was the Grand Duke’s loyal subordinate, the Emperor must have found Theo’s presence here quite an eyesore.
Of course, there was also the intention to completely isolate her. Whatever the reason, the clandestine overtures Joseph made to Theo struck her as nothing but insidious.
“Regardless… I understand Your Highness’s wishes.”
Though he answered compliantly, an uneasy look lingered on Theo’s face.
For some time recently, he had sensed a subtle distance in the Princess.
Things he had initially dismissed as mere imagination were slowly coalescing into questions.
Having remained by her side since his days as an apprentice knight, he knew the Princess better than anyone. He knew how she had staked her very life on returning to the capital after being sent here.
‘I expected her to cling to the chance and demand to be taken back to the capital right this second.’
Yet lately, the Princess was somehow different from before.
* * *
Reaching Lopawell from the border did not take long.
In terms of distance, it was not that far from the northern frontier, but the weather proved an ambush. Under the sultry early summer air, the soldiers soon grew exhausted.
On the road to Lopawell, there was nowhere suitable to rest. On land where trees could scarcely grow, it was only natural that not a speck of shade was to be found along the entire march.
“There’s a well over there. Shall we rest for a moment?”
Gaius asked the man riding at the head of the column. Gray-violet eyes, void of the slightest flicker of emotion, turned toward the well.
“It’ll be dry anyway. There are no rivers nearby, let alone a shallow spring; there’s no way there’s water in that well. Given how parched the ground is, it hasn’t rained in quite some time.”
“Still, seeing a well standing there suggests a village isn’t far from here. Rather than lingering any longer beneath the blazing sun, we’d be better off pressing on to the monastery.”
At the mention of the monastery, Declan gripped his reins tightly before he could stop himself.
He had braced himself for this, but as the familiar scenery unfolded before his eyes, maintaining his composure grew difficult.
‘A month should be enough.’
That would be enough time for the wounded to receive treatment and recover to some degree. While avoiding her entirely in a cramped monastery was impossible, he could at least keep from becoming entangled any more than necessary.
Just how much farther had they ridden?
“Look, I see the monastery!”
At someone’s shout, a brief stir ran through the trailing soldiers.
Amid the restless stir, Declan turned his head as well. Perched atop a steep cliff, the monastery, built of large stones mortared with sand, was so vast in scale that it stood out at a glance even from afar.
In the late afternoon as the sun dipped low, the monastery bathed in the sunset was quite a magnificent sight.
In truth, it was merely an unremarkable stone fortress fashioned from grains of sand, but reflecting the waning sunlight, the castle looked as though it were raised from gold dust.
“It’s not as bad as I thought.”
“From a distance, sure. Drop your guard like that and you might get eaten alive.”
A few soldiers trailing behind chuckled. Perhaps buoyed by the relief of finally being able to rest, life began to return to their weary faces.
Amid the gradually brightening mood, Declan alone at the very front merely gazed blankly at the monastery, his face devoid of expression.
Unlike the view from afar, the moment they stepped onto the cliff where the monastery stood, a gruesome spectacle unfolded.
Scattered across the road lay bodies, impossible to tell if they were corpses or living souls. A few of them stumbled forward, clinging to the soldiers and begging.
Before such a scene, the soldiers were rendered speechless.
Apart from an occasional dry heave at the faint stench of decay, no one dared open their mouths until they reached the entrance of the monastery.
To reach the monastery perched at the summit of the cliff, one had to follow the forest path leading from the village. Those who had mingled with the army’s procession to beg for food dropped away one by one as the troops reached the steep mountain trail.
Every last one of them was reduced to skin and bones; there was no way they could keep up along that steep mountain path.
Upon reaching the highest point of the cliff, the Abbot and several priests were waiting outside before the entrance to welcome them in person.
“Your Grace. We are overwhelmed with honor that you have visited our monastery in person.”
A middle-aged man, bald down the center of his head, approached them with a genial smile. Judging by the crimson vestment he wore, it was easy to tell he was the Abbot here.
Most of those stationed here in Lopawell had been banished for crimes, or were of such low birth that they had been relocated by the Emperor’s decree with no choice in the matter.
The priests residing in the monastery were no exception. Those who had violated doctrine or come from base origins lived gathered together.
That a man hailed as the hero who saved the nation had arrived in such a place naturally drew everyone’s undivided attention.
“You must be exhausted after enduring hardships for so long. We have arranged a modest meal for the army.”
The Abbot spoke with a gentle smile. Then, glancing surreptitiously at the Grand Duke, he added:
“Though of course, it cannot compare to the splendors of the capital. We live each day waiting only for the time we might return to His Imperial Majesty’s side.”
At words that so blatantly conveyed a desire to return to the capital, the Count beside him stiffened slightly, but the Grand Duke offered an unexpected smile.
“It seems life here does not quite suit you, Priest.”
“Naturally, Your Grace. What monastery could ever compare to being at His Imperial Majesty’s side?”
The Abbot bowed and scraped with a servile smile. Keeping his own smile, the Grand Duke murmured under his breath:
“I suppose that must be so.”
From memories that had become the distant past, he dredged up her image. The woman who had mingled like an impurity amid the squalor of Lopawell.
She had been no different.
If that woman, whose pride was second to none, had ever shown a servile attitude toward another in her entire life, that had surely been the first and last time.
‘You are the only one who can save me.’
That plaintive voice, clinging to him as if to a last lifeline, still rang vividly in his ears.
She had looked just like a cornered young animal begging for its life.
A cold sneer traced Declan’s lips.
His thoughts, recalling the beginning and end of a relationship steeped in misery, wound back to the moment he had opened his eyes once more at the northern frontier not long ago.
* * *
The war, spanning three years, had drawn to a close with achievements of its own. The empire’s territory had expanded, and with the acquisition of a northern port, it was a war where more had been won than lost.
At least, that was how it appeared to the empire’s new Emperor. If nothing else, to an emperor who had failed to produce a single noteworthy achievement since his accession, this victory certainly carried extraordinary significance.
Even if, to the very men who had led the war to victory, it was merely one more battle among the countless they had fought.
Any sentiment they felt amounted to nothing more than: we didn’t die this time either. That was all.
While the capital devoted itself to preparing for the army’s glorious return, the troops remaining at the border were frantic cleaning up after the war. Rio Monches, as one of the staff officers, was no exception.
Having roughly wrapped up the task of recovering bodies after nearly a month, Count Monches headed toward the command tent to deliver his report. His brisk steps halted abruptly before the tent. A foul stench drifting to his nostrils was strangely familiar.
‘Is that opium?’
He knit his brows deeply before he could stop himself.