With a short, calm remark, he tilted his head slightly and urged Odelia on.
Odelia, unable to even meet his eyes properly as if she had nowhere left to run, carefully wrapped the scarf around his neck.
As her fingertips hovered just out of reach, her earlobes turned bright red.
Calix gazed at the sight for a moment, then let out a low laugh. It was the kind of laugh that looked genuinely happy.
"... It's a bit warm now."
He lightly stroked his scarf and added.
"I'll return the scarf next time."
"There is no need for that. Take it."
Odelia quickly shook her head. A moment of silence followed, and soon a subtle smile spread across Calix's lips.
"...Yes."
He answered with just a single word, said nothing more, and immediately got into the carriage. Then, he waved briefly to those seeing him off.
Eventually, the wheels rolled along the snowy road and slowly moved away.
The receding tracks of the carriage wheels were deeply etched into the snow. Odelia held her gaze for a long time, as if following the traces.
...Even though she knew it shouldn't be done, her heart kept rushing towards it.
Just as it became difficult to follow the trail of the receding carriage with her eyes, a voice calling her was heard from behind.
"Lady Odelia, please return now."
It was Philip who made the suggestion cautiously. Herse also held onto Odelia's sleeve tightly and nodded. Damian also took a step forward and looked at her.
Odelia looked once more at the deep carriage tracks left in the snow and nodded.
"Yes, I'm going back now."
Odelia walked briskly.
As she boarded the carriage, the inside was already warmly prepared. The attendants had spread out thick blankets, and snowflakes shimmered beyond the fogged-up glass.
Clunk, the wheels moved, and it slowly set out on the road. The journey toward Talamand began again.
Herse, who had been pressed close to the window looking out, suddenly turned his head.
"Aunt, how was the New Year's Eve party?"
Odelia paused for a moment, but soon smiled gently and met Herse's eyes.
“It was a lot of fun.”
“I wanted to go too, but..."
Herse puffed out his cheeks and glared at Damian. Damian had also been invited, but since he disliked such gatherings by nature, he deliberately did not go.
Just as Damian was about to say something at his son's glare, his gaze lingered briefly on Odelia. Looking back at his son, Damian soon added briefly.
"...I think it would be fine to attend together next year."
Odelia quietly nodded and smiled, while Herse, who was listening nearby, raised both hands high.
“Yay!”
A child's bright voice rang out inside the small carriage, and warm laughter spread along with the sound of wheels cutting through the snow.
Odelia turned her gaze out the window. The fluttering snowflakes touched the glass and melted away. Herse's laughter and Damian's low voice could be faintly heard from behind, but her mind was drawn far away.
Will I be smiling like today next year?
No, will I still be unable to go to that person's side next year, merely longing for them?
At the question that had arisen involuntarily, Odelia slowly closed her eyes. Only the snowflakes spreading beyond the cold glass scattered like an answer.
The snow-covered road was quiet, but her heart was still turbulent and complicated.
***
[Chapter 4. Things to Protect]
Grimford Village was a village nestled in the shadows of the frontier, not even properly marked on the empire's old maps.
Unlike other villages in the empire, this place could only be accessed by a single stone bridge, and the houses stood leaning along the riverbank, consisting entirely of blackened timber and crumbling mud walls.
Even during the day, the fog and shadows settling over the river enveloped my heart, and the sunlight passed by only briefly, unable to penetrate every nook and cranny.
This place, where those who work with beasts and hides live together and have formed a bond, was shunned by the people of the Empire and called the 'village permeated with the smell of blood and hides,' yet its residents have lived there for decades, avoiding the gaze of the outside world.
Grimford's heart, where the midday star had quietly settled, was as peaceful as ever.
In one corner of the yard, the sound of firewood being pulled out crackled and stopped, and the blade used to trim freshly caught fish gleamed silver in the sunlight.
An ordinary afternoon, with the sounds of barking dogs, crowing roosters, and children's laughter intertwined to form a peaceful daily life.
Suddenly, a metallic sound was heard from afar, followed soon by the sound of rough hooves rushing toward the village.
It was Fabiana's personal guard who stormed in, cutting through the dust with fierce footsteps as if crushing the breath of the heart.
Armor engraved with golden emblems, a red tassel hanging on the scabbard, and a killing intent as taut as military discipline.
Startled by the sound of the stranger, the villagers raised their heads one by one, but by that moment, it was already too late. As the order was given, a blade flashed. With screams, marketplace stalls tumbled, and chickens flew through the air.
The woman fleeing with her child in her arms was roughly dragged away, and the old man had his wrist twisted and knelt on the ground. The stench of blood spread through the streets.
Among them, the first to be captured was the oldest person to have lived in this village. He was like an elder of the village.
Thick tendons bulged over his roughly bound wrists, followed by his wife, son, daughter-in-law, and even his newborn grandchild being dragged out one after another.
They wailed, but the guards' footsteps showed not the slightest hesitation.
***
The damp, cold air weighed heavily on his lungs. Even the slightest movement caused the actual shackles to rattle along with the chains, and the blood and sweat clinging to his skin had hardened and stiffened.
It did not take long for the Elder of Grimford’s heart to realize that the place he had been dragged to was a palace prison. After all, no matter how ignorant a butcher he was who wielded nothing but a sword, he was certainly not unaware of the seal of the Imperial Household where he lived.
A deep and equally cold silence hung in the air. Not knowing why he had been dragged there, nor what had become of his remaining family, he could only tremble miserably.
How much time had passed in that state of uncertain fear? From a distance, regular footsteps approached.
The faint light casting a shadow in the darkness gradually expanded, and an intimidating command was heard.
"Show respect... Her Majesty the Empress of Alendasia!"
Although Fabiana had not yet officially ascended to the throne as Empress, her gaze, unhesitating in claiming the position as her own, stealthily peered into the inside of the iron bars.
The old man, kneeling on a damp straw pile, was stained with blood and dust all over his body, and he only let out rough breaths through his torn lips.
"The fate of your family rests on your tongue."
Fabiana's low, clear voice echoed along the cold stone wall.
Only then did the elder's cloudy eyes gleam. It did not take long for him to imagine what this woman wanted from him, and what she would seek in return.
"Whatever you desire from a lowly person like me, I will tell you the truth. Please... please, just spare my life."
His dry voice was more desperate than ever. The drops of blood falling onto his knees revealed his fear even more vividly. Fabiana, seeing the scene perfectly match her expectations before her eyes, raised the corners of her mouth ever so slightly, as if satisfied.
"Didn't a girl drift into your Grimford more than ten years ago? No. Perhaps... she might have looked like a boy at first glance."
At those words, the man swallowed his breath. A face he could never forget flashed through his mind like lightning.
Odelia.
As he swallowed that name inwardly and raised his head, Fabiana's gaze did not miss his slight trembling.
"Would you recognize her if you saw her? Do you remember her face?"
The man nodded slowly, but surely.
At that moment, Fabiana opened a box beside her and took out a thick portrait. The face of a young woman drawn on the paper was thrust through the bars.
"This is the woman, isn't it?"
Support Novellate!
Comments
Post a Comment