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Chapter 18
“Luke! Luke Ailak!”
Luke, the military physician who accompanied the head of the household every time he went to war, rushed out of his tent at the sound of his name.
“Your Excellency!”
The young lord was running toward his tent.
In his arms was a woman with pale golden hair and a slender frame. The duchess who had been exchanged as a hostage.
When Luke saw that her clothes were soaked in blood, his face turned pale.
The enemy prince had mentioned whipping, so they had prepared for possible emergencies—but the amount of blood loss was far too severe.
Luke quickly pulled the tent flap open.
“Your Excellency, please bring her in here.”
The lord followed him inside.
When he laid the woman onto the prepared cot, Luke began washing the wound with cooled medicinal herbal water. A long gash stretched across her pale back, blood still flowing without end.
After disinfecting, Luke began stitching the wound. Even though the treatment prioritized speed, the pain must have been severe—but the woman did not move at all.
From a purely medical standpoint, Luke was relieved that the duchess still had a pulse. With injuries like this, it would not have been strange if she had already stopped breathing.
After finishing the sutures to stop the bleeding, Luke turned his head. The lord was watching the situation with a pale face.
“For now, the emergency treatment is complete. However, the wound is too deep…”
“…We cannot guarantee whether she will live or die.”
The lord murmured the words softly as he looked down at his own hands. The man who had been holding the patient until moments ago was drenched in blood, both hands and clothes soaked through.
Silence fell.
Luke realized that the young man was just as terrified as the silence around him suggested.
It was rare, but Luke—who had watched him since childhood—could tell.
The lord’s lips trembled, his face deathly pale.
“Since Glacir exists, we can at least return to the capital… no, rather I should…”
His gaze shifted from his bloodied body to the woman on the bed.
Luke shouted at the lord, who was staring at his wife with trembling eyes.
“Your Excellency! Snap out of it!”
The lord jolted as if waking from a hallucination and lifted his head.
When those deep blue eyes turned toward him, Luke instinctively held his breath. The pupils were more dilated than usual.
The lord, who had moments ago been stammering, now spoke clearly.
“She lost too much blood. Is that not so?”
“I have never been injured like this myself…”
The lord muttered, then turned away. Luke hurried after him as he walked toward the exit.
“Where are you going?”
Without looking back, the lord replied as he stepped outside the tent.
“Give her one day. Just one day—make sure she holds on until I return.”
With constant riding, one day was enough to reach the capital.
Realizing the young master intended to go and cut down Glacir—the treasured tree of Lasset—Luke quickly followed.
But the lord had already disappeared from sight.
19.
Riding through the snow-covered road, Sioden realized that Ela must have passed this same path.
It was the fastest route between territories. Those from Lasset who had sold her off would have chosen it as well.
On the road where no trace of the carriage remained, Sioden tried to imagine what she must have felt.
Was she cold?
Was she afraid?
She must have cried.
Ela cried easily. And even knowing that, he had never once wiped her tears.
There were countless reasons he had used to justify himself.
Ela was the daughter of an enemy house. Everything was an act.
It was all a scheme to soften his heart and swallow Lasset whole.
He remembered her answer to his question:
“Why are you marrying?”
“Because my father needs me.”
And even knowing that answer, he had still chosen not to believe her.
If he so much as wiped away her wet eyes once, he knew he would not be able to stop himself afterward.
He would give her more. His attention, his heart, even his body—until eventually, everything he was supposed to protect would be given away.
But even if every man in the world fell for Ela, he could not.
He had something he must protect.
“Protect the family no matter what.”
Evelyn, his mother and the former duchess, had said those words until her dying breath.
Since her funeral when he was sixteen, Sioden had lived for that alone.
Family, territory, duty, responsibility.
To choose what was right for the collective while excluding his own desires was not easy.
There were countless moments when living for the family left nothing but misery for himself.
And after struggling to build everything over his lifetime, he could not let it collapse over a single woman.
Even if that woman had managed to slip into his heart with just a smile, just a few words.
He was not someone who was allowed to follow where his heart pointed.
Still, he should never have said that.
“You will no longer need to send letters. Unless you are dying, I will not come to see you.”
Ela would never forget that moment.
Or perhaps she would—but he would.
If he had not said it, maybe she would have written to him when forced into that selection. Maybe she would have explained the situation to him to save herself.
Then she would not have been placed on the wall. She would not have been whipped.
Because he would never have handed Ela over to anyone.
Even if he hated her, he could not bring himself to ignore her.
While leaving the castle to deal with her father, Sioden had secretly hoped that once Kapren Roen disappeared, Ela would no longer be a problem.
Even if she tried to sell off Lasset, without allies she would be unable to act.
And if no more problems arose, he could stop trying to hate her.
If she did nothing further, he could pretend not to see what she had done before.
Wasn’t his conscience already something warped to begin with?
If he could keep the woman he wanted by his side, he thought he could endure that much.
If he lived pretending it was normal, Ela would eventually realize it was better to keep him than to give him away.
He only realized how arrogant that thought had been after the rebellion.
The rebellion had been inevitable.
The relationship between the Ritelin Imperial Family and Lasset had already broken down generations ago.
It began when Duke Rex, Sioden’s predecessor, married Evelyn—the former emperor’s fiancée.
What had begun as a so-called “love story of the century” ended as adultery.
Soon after their only child was born, Evelyn discovered a new Glacir tree growing in the family forest.
It had been growing for some time—right beside her son’s own tree.
She destroyed it with an axe, eliminating the proof of betrayal, and from that day until her death, she despised her husband.
What Rex had done might have been a ridiculous farce rather than fate, but to the emperor who had his fiancée stolen, it was not funny at all.
Even after ascending the throne, the emperor never forgot that betrayal.
Thus, the relationship between Ritelin and Lasset completely deteriorated, and Roen’s involvement turned it into a full northern-southern divide.
The conflict continued even after Rex’s death.
When Sioden inherited the title and went to the capital, he realized the emperor had no intention of reconciliation.
The emperor said as soon as he entered the audience chamber:
“You resemble your father too much. If I am to trust you, I need proof of loyalty.”
Sioden stood on the red carpet, preparing to bow according to protocol.
The emperor, his cloudy eyes watching him, turned to the man beside him.
A middle-aged man with silver hair and golden eyes stood beside the throne—Kapren Roen.
“What is usually used as proof in such cases?”
Kapren looked down at Sioden from the dais. Sioden did not avert his gaze.
Kapren’s snake-like eyes slowly examined him before speaking.
“Require him to swear loyalty according to protocol.”
“….”
“However, a normal oath has already been proven ineffective by the former Duke of Lasset. Therefore, a new method of oath-taking is required.”
“Is there a suitable method?”
Asked so, Kapren wore the face of a truly loyal subject.
With the expression of a man offering sincere counsel, he suggested:
“Perhaps having him kneel and bow his head would suffice.”
