IRER 12

Chapter 12
A Blazing Voice

Something felt off.

Normally, even if she didn’t come all the way to the front lines, she would at least watch from outside as he returned.
She had often been in the fields, but here—there were no fields of her own.

He had told her to stay in Ferdan Fortress because it could be dangerous. Yet when she insisted on coming down with him, he couldn’t help but feel secretly pleased.

He didn’t want to put her in danger—but he also didn’t want to be apart from her.
That strange contradiction in his heart led Aidan to finally give in.

“I thought we’d grown closer…”

When he glanced around, she was nowhere to be seen, so he assumed she was in the tent. She’d seemed exhausted during the journey—she was probably sleeping.

The battle had ended sooner than expected, so she wouldn’t have anticipated him returning this quickly.

She couldn’t be called lazy, but she did sleep a lot.
Well, with such a thin and frail body, she’d need all the energy she could get.

“She really does have no stamina.”

Aidan recalled the moment he had held her. Her back, where bones could be easily felt. The prominent collarbones and ribs that cast stark shadows.

“I’ll have to make sure she eats well when we go back. If we win this war, the food shortages will be solved, too.”

He was startled by his own thoughts and felt ashamed. He shook his head and pushed the idea away.

Aidan liked seeing her curled up in his tent, sleeping like a stretched-out hamster.
Watching her brought a comforting warmth, made this place feel a bit more like a place where humans lived—and reminded him that he, too, was still doing human things.

He made his way to the tent with familiar strides.

“Your Grace!”

Just then, a soldier ran up to deliver a message from the chief of staff.

“You’ll want to come with me. One of the prisoners is causing a commotion…”

“I told you to treat him well. He’s a valuable hostage.”

“Yes, sir, he’s not being mistreated, but he’s screaming at the top of his lungs, demanding someone be brought to him… and asking to see Your Grace.”

Aidan sighed, picturing the prisoner—Duke Jax McCarthy.
He looked like a dignified man, so what was with this outburst?

He changed course and headed for the prisoner’s tent. The guards parted to let him through.

“What’s going on?”

“The prisoner is demanding we hand over a woman—someone named Brody, I think. Keeps calling her a poor girl,” said Chief of Staff River with folded arms and a cynical tone.

“Brody?”

“Must’ve been one hell of a courtesan. He’s still asking for her even in captivity.”

“Watch your mouth!”

Jax’s thunderous voice rang out in response to River’s mockery.

His breath control was impressive—the booming sound shook the entire tent.

Aidan frowned, and River, as if expecting it, clamped his hands over his ears.

“Do we have any female prisoners named Brody?”

“Well… Mrs. Murphy manages the women’s roster. I asked her, and she said no one by that name.”

“She could be using a different name.”

River shrugged with arms still crossed—an unspoken “Good luck finding her then.”

“She’s not dead, is she?!”

Jax’s shout shook the tent again.

He could’ve just spoken normally… River clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed.

“If you tell us why you’re looking for her and provide some details, we might consider helping,” Aidan said plainly.

“Damn it…”

Jax put on a dramatic display of anguish—Aidan couldn’t help but wonder if the man lived as though constantly on a theater stage.

River was visibly fed up, but Aidan waited patiently.

Eventually, Jax hunched over and murmured something under his breath—as if delivering a soliloquy.

His voice was too low to hear clearly, but Aidan, blessed by spirits, caught it perfectly.

“You failed the assassination, didn’t you, Brody. I should’ve stopped you…”

Aidan was stunned.

But no one else seemed to have heard it—River was just scowling, oblivious.

“Why do you want this woman, prisoner? We lowly folk need a convincing reason to act on your behalf.”

River’s polite tone was dripping with sarcasm.

Jax didn’t seem to notice and continued solemnly.

He looked like a man writhing in guilt over losing a woman.

“She’s precious to me. I made a terrible mistake letting her go. But if she returns, I’ll treat her better than anyone else.”

…No one asked for that.

River’s lips twisted coldly.

Jax, oblivious, went on in a reverent tone.

“Even Her Highness the Princess was fond of her. If you return her to me, you’ll be greatly rewarded.”

Rewarded?
You lost the war and still talk like a royal?
River was incredulous—but he had to admit, this was the first interesting thing Jax had said.

“So… you’re saying she’s valuable as a hostage?”

“Yes.”

Jax seemed excited by River’s interest.

“In that case, we’ll do our best to help. Any clues besides her name? Description, maybe?”

“Her name is Brody. She has soft brown hair, like milk chocolate, and eyes that sparkle green like emeralds—very beautiful.”

At that, both Aidan and River thought of the same person.

But while Aidan frowned, River shook his head.

“That sounds like Bri, but…”

“No, no way. She’d never fit that flowery description.”

River replied, “That’s not much to go on. The North is full of beauties like that. Not to question her uniqueness, of course. Any other clues?”

“She’s average height… ordinary figure. Ah, and her skin’s a bit pale.”

All average, then what’s the point?
And using skin tone as a clue? That’s subject to change!

River was about to snark again when Jax hesitated and added,

“…She’s extremely knowledgeable about plants.”

You should’ve led with that! River’s expression tensed—but then realization struck, and he was stunned.

So was Aidan. Their eyes met—both thinking of the same person again.

But this time, neither nodded nor shook their heads.

They simply stood there, frozen.

“Bri…?”

“No, what did you hear? I said Brody! Oh, poor girl… sacrificing herself for love… I am a man of many sins!”

Aidan felt as though he’d been hit over the head with a hammer.

Am I really on the battlefield right now?

I’ve never had my brain rattled like this before.

“Your Grace! Urgent news!”

Before he could process anything further, a soldier burst into the tent.

“You need to come to the plains immediately! The Imperial family… they’re calling for negotiations!”

Before tomorrow’s battle?
Already? They’re surrendering this easily?

Feeling a mix of unease and confusion, Aidan turned to leave.

“Ohhh, Your Highness the Princess! You haven’t forsaken me!”
Jax’s booming voice behind him made Aidan’s nerves twitch.

Did they send that idiot just to rattle us?
Suspicious, Aidan and River gave strict orders to the guards and headed for the field.

❖ ❖ ❖

The plains, under the sunset and dark clouds, looked desolate.

Standing just out of arrow range from the castle walls, Grand Duke Aidan and his knights faced a woman on the ramparts.

She wore luxurious garments, her golden hair blazing under the fiery twilight.

“Show proper respect to Her Highness, Princess Myla of the Royal House of Ryley!”

A herald beside her shouted.

Aidan stood with arms crossed, giving only a slight nod.

“Insolence!”

The herald barked.

“Respect is given to those worthy of it. Loyalty is earned by those deserving it,” Aidan replied coldly.

As the herald was about to retort, the princess raised her hand to silence him.

She spoke calmly and with poise, yet her voice rang clearly across the plain—amplified, perhaps, by some ancient artifact from a long-lost magical era.

“His Majesty acknowledges his misgovernance. Yet do you intend to justify this heinous rebellion by that alone?”

Misgovernance?
You call this catastrophe just “misgovernance”?

Aidan had half a mind to drag the emperor to the North and show him the corpses of the starved.

The North’s suffering had pushed even someone as upright and restrained as Aidan to the edge.

“Whether it’s justified or not, that’s your call. I didn’t come here to listen to empty words.”

Though she furrowed her brow, the princess maintained her dignity.

She soon masked even that small emotion, returning to a blank expression.

Raising her hand again, soldiers atop the walls lifted something—no, someone.

“It’s the village chief of Ranyeong!”

“My son! My son who was conscripted five years ago is up there!”

“That’s Mrs. Lizzie from next door!”

Recognizing the figures, the Northern soldiers grew restless.

Aidan’s face turned ashen as he scanned the wall.

“If you don’t comply, these people will die.”

The princess’s calm voice descended over the murmuring.

As silence fell, she took a step forward and spoke.

“Grand Duke Aidan of the North—hear the command of His Imperial Majesty!”

“Enough of this emperor nonsense!”

But it wasn’t Aidan who interrupted her.

A voice rang out from the wall.

“Your Grace! Don’t listen! Do you think returning to the North means survival? We’ll only starve to death! I, an old man, don’t want to rob the North’s future!”

It was the village chief of Ranyeong—his face weathered with age and scars.

He twisted out of the soldier’s grip and threw himself from the wall.

A small, dull thud echoed across the plains.

Quiet as it was, it chilled everyone to the bone in the surrounding silence.

“Your Grace! Please build a North where our children can live happily!”

A nameless woman shouted, wriggling free.

Aidan saw the tear-streaked, haggard face of the woman as she fell.

Screams, cries, bodies collapsing, and the grim sounds of resolution striking the earth followed in quick succession.

Some soldiers turned away or shut their eyes.

But Grand Duke Aidan stared straight ahead, his face hard.

Bloodshot eyes, clenched fists, and trembling veins revealed his fury.

“Enough!!”

Then a voice sliced through the plain like a blade.

The captives’ cries stopped. The silence was sudden.

What halted them was the blazing voice of a woman.