11. Side story 01
A makeshift barracks was set up in the desolate-looking old castle courtyard. Vice Commander Weiss looked at the commander who was studying the map with a calm expression and opened his mouth heavily.
“Are you okay?”
The young commander, who had been a classmate of Weiss's at the military academy but was now his superior, raised his head with a blank expression.
"What?"
It was surprising on the one hand, and heartbreaking on the other, to see his old friend not change his behavior even after hearing the news that his father had been taken prisoner by the enemy. Weiss quickly shook his head, hiding his gloomy expression.
“It’s nothing.
“What is the condition of the soldiers?”
Damien asked, looking at the map spread out before the flickering candles. They had to resume their attack in a few days. If they encountered a typhoon, it would be difficult to cross the mountain range.
“I’m sorry to tell you, but it’s not very good.”
The critically injured were treated to some extent, but there was a bigger problem.
“The morale is low. It seems that news from the southern camp has already spread.”
Fear was the greatest enemy in any situation. The fact that the army led by the war hero Duke Tisse was struggling was enough to lower the morale of the soldiers. Damien slowly raised his head and opened his mouth.
“I want to drink something hot.”
Weiss quickly removed the tent and gave a short order, and tea was soon prepared. Weiss sat across from his superior, who was drinking tea in silence, thinking about what to say. Should he pray for the soul of the deceased? Weiss had never once thought that he would ever have to comfort Damien. Damien, who was born without any shortcomings, had always walked a smooth path. Until the war broke out.
"Weiss."
Damien finally broke the silence and spoke.
“Cheer up.”
"Yes?"
“You're not going to bring my father back from the dead.”
A makeshift barracks was set up in the desolate-looking old castle courtyard. Vice Commander Weiss looked at the commander who was studying the map with a calm expression and opened his mouth heavily.
“Are you okay?”
The young commander, who had been a classmate of Weiss's at the military academy but was now his superior, raised his head with a blank expression.
"What?"
It was surprising on the one hand, and heartbreaking on the other, to see his old friend not change his behavior even after hearing the news that his father had been taken prisoner by the enemy. Weiss quickly shook his head, hiding his gloomy expression.
“It’s nothing.
“What is the condition of the soldiers?”
Damien asked, looking at the map spread out before the flickering candles. They had to resume their attack in a few days. If they encountered a typhoon, it would be difficult to cross the mountain range.
“I’m sorry to tell you, but it’s not very good.”
The critically injured were treated to some extent, but there was a bigger problem.
“The morale is low. It seems that news from the southern camp has already spread.”
Fear was the greatest enemy in any situation. The fact that the army led by the war hero Duke Tisse was struggling was enough to lower the morale of the soldiers. Damien slowly raised his head and opened his mouth.
“I want to drink something hot.”
Weiss quickly removed the tent and gave a short order, and tea was soon prepared. Weiss sat across from his superior, who was drinking tea in silence, thinking about what to say. Should he pray for the soul of the deceased? Weiss had never once thought that he would ever have to comfort Damien. Damien, who was born without any shortcomings, had always walked a smooth path. Until the war broke out.
"Weiss."
Damien finally broke the silence and spoke.
“Cheer up.”
"Yes?"
“You're not going to bring my father back from the dead.”
Weiss, who had his fists clenched on his knees, bit his lip hard. Damien was not optimistic enough to hope that the Duke of Tisse, who had been captured by the enemy, would return.
“If you think about it, it’s not all that sad. There’s even a saying that the most honorable way for a noble to die is to die in a war to protect his country.”
“...”
“My father will probably keep his honor until the end. And I, who will succeed him, will be no different.”
Weiss finally drank the tea in front of him in one gulp. Feeling sentimental in the exhibition situation, he realized that he still had a long way to go.
“I will correct it. I am sorry for causing you concern.”
“Isn’t it hot?”
Damien shrugged his shoulders with a look of disbelief and chuckled slightly. Weiss shook his head, feeling his palate swell.
“I’m a bit dull by nature.”
“You must be loyal.”
Weiss, who was loyal to his superior, Damien, a classmate from the military academy, was not the type of person to talk behind his back. Damien looked at him and continued speaking calmly.
“Weiss. I have no intention of dying a dog’s death in this war.”
“Of course.”
“As much as I respect my father, I still have work to do.”
Damien lifted the iron cup as if he were holding a glass of wine and took a sip. Judging by the dignity in his appearance, he was undoubtedly a nobleman.
“When the war is over, I will go back to where I belong.”
Weiss's pupils dilated slightly and shook, but Damien's gaze remained straight. Looking at Damien's face looking straight at him, Weiss instinctively felt that he had not misunderstood his intentions.
“I’m willing to stop at nothing to sit in the fanciest chair in Swanton.”
“...Commander.”
“I hope we’re still on good terms then.”
Damien stretched out, leaned back in the old stool, and whispered.
“To do that, we first have to win this damn war.”
Looking at Damien, who was so calm that it was hard to believe he had ever talked about treason, Weiss tried to guess how long ago he had been thinking like that. It was definitely much longer than he had expected.
“Why are you saying that to me, Commander?”
“It means you were chosen by me.”
Damien looked at him and smirked.
“So be happy. I will never let go of the one I have chosen.”
It was then that he heard the sound of a piano from somewhere. The sweet sound of the music did not fit the current situation at all.
A piano during the war? And some of the keys were out of tune as if to prove that the instrument had not been tuned for a long time.
"What?"
As Damien turned his head, Weiss stood up.
“Just a moment... Let me check.”
Weiss, who had walked out of the tent, looked up to where the piano sound was coming from. A place where dim lights flickered in an old castle. It was music coming from the second-floor window. The noise of the soldiers who had been camping in their sleeping bags in the unmanaged front yard slowly diminished. The soldiers, exhausted by the war that seemed to never end, were staring at the place where the music was flowing out as if they were possessed.
The young soldier who was kneeling and burying his face in his hands, and the old soldier who had his arm bandaged, were all silent and silent. The moonlight was mysterious and dreamlike, to the point where it seemed as if there had ever been a time like this in the time that had passed without rest since the war began.
“She is the eldest daughter of the Viscount of Verdier.”
Weiss, who didn't even know Damien had arrived, flinched and took a step back.
“I think so.”
“Isn’t it the same person who treated the soldiers among the wounded? Chloe Verdier.”
Weiss nodded, wondering when Damian would ever remember her name.
“Yes, I warned the Viscount because I was annoyed by the harsh words being spoken among the rough soldiers.”
“It was definitely an eyesore.”
“...Should I tell her to stop playing?”
“Leave it.”
Weiss asked back without realizing it when Damien, who she had expected to give an order, said something unexpected.
“Should I leave it alone?”
“Yeah. If we stop now, there’s a chance a riot will break out.”
The piano performance on a moonlit night was certainly comforting the hearts of the weary soldiers.
“Instead, make sure she doesn’t leave that room while we’re there. So that I don’t catch her eye.”
“Yes, Commander.”
Weiss had no idea that she would one day become the Duchess of Tisse. He simply watched Damien staring intently at the second-floor window, hoping that the poor young lady would no longer offend the Duke.
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