Chapter 2
It was a letter of recommendation.
“I’ve written down the address, so go find it. It’s a textile factory in Aran. They make coat linings and lace, easy work, even a ten-year-old could do it. With your stubborn streak, you’ll manage just fine with one arm.”
While she had declined the position of a nobleman’s legitimate wife, Priscilla accepted that modest letter of recommendation gladly without a single question. She even politely added that he should excuse her for receiving it with one hand.
“Thank you so much, Captain.”
A textile worker. What was that supposed to mean? For a moment, a faint smile flickered around her red lips.
“Not everyone in this world gets to live the way they want. You weren’t born with status either. Most people who drift into mercenary companies have rough lives. It’s fortunate if they’re still breathing. Don’t feel wronged—it’ll only make you miserable.”
The nagging that followed from Ross barely registered.
“It’s fine. I wasn’t the protagonist of a fairy tale after all.”
“Send a letter when you reach Arancel.”
Priscilla, who had stuffed the letter of recommendation into her pocket, gave a short bow and turned to leave. She had barely taken a step when her military boots seemed to bother her, so she took off her shoes right there.
She considered taking the shoes with her but then decided she did not need shoes with so many laces. In the end, she left the pair of boots in the middle of the office and disappeared.
Just moments before, she had maintained knife-sharp etiquette, but now she acted as if she couldn’t care less about leaving trash in her superior’s office.
To this extent, it seemed like she hadn’t been holding on because she loved Sabed, but rather waiting for someone to offer her a job out of guilt.
“That personality of hers, honestly…”
The aging commander grumbled but eventually made his way to the window. He secretly watched Priscilla’s retreating figure as she headed to her quarters to pack.
The sandstorm made everything look muddy yellow, but her bright hair was visible even from a distance.
Her steps were light for someone who had just been fired. The way she walked barefoot without hesitation seemed more like a departure than despair.
At least she won’t make the worst choice, he thought, feeling grateful for having raised her strictly.
He called out loudly for someone to prepare a carriage. In a situation like this, even if he couldn’t be a father, surely he could have the heart of a mentor? After all, he had helped train that fool who stubbornly endured hot sand with bloodshot eyes since she was young.
Just as he was feeling relieved, Ross’s expression began to harden again.
He felt an ominous presence. When he turned toward the entrance of the base, a carriage was leisurely creeping in.
It was a ridiculous horse-shaped mechanical doll with obsidian decorations patched like rags over iron plates, but from a distance, it looked like a dead horse. It reminded him exactly of the black four-horse carriage that the god of death supposedly rode in ancient legends.
It was the carriage of that crazy nobleman who had been going around everywhere lately looking for a bride.
“Hello, friend.”
Friend, my ass—what’s our age difference?
Ross couldn’t hide his bewildered expression. The tall man who had opened the office door and entered was someone he “knew.” They hadn’t even known each other that long.
When contracting with Lamarian, he had received some cutting-edge weapons through their recommendation, and he had only become acquainted with the man who claimed to be the president of a military supply company.
Yohan Padwin. A mysterious figure known only to those in the know, even within the Lamarian Empire.
He had met various political figures whose humanity was questionable, but this was the first time he encountered someone so alien.
Both his appearance and his actions were strange.
After the conquest of Bezuli where Priscilla lost her arm, Ross had to stay at the Lamarian Imperial Palace for a long time as a mercenary captain.
And he became friends with Yohan after briefly shaking hands at a victory party.
At that time, Ross didn’t know that Yohan Padwin was a wizard who could read memories. He had thought it was just ghost stories.
He hadn’t particularly wanted to become friends, but after that, Yohan began acting familiar like an old friend, as if he was obsessed with something.
Just the day before yesterday, he had sent a short telegram saying “I’m coming to see you now.” When asked about the reason for his visit, he ended with the bizarre response “Sorry. Already departed.” The second message saying he had departed was sent by his secretary.
The man who departed without waiting for a reply arrived from Lamarian to Sabed in just a few days. Riding a mechanical carriage that never tired.
“…Nice to see you, Yohan.”
He was playing along for the future of the mercenary company, but this one-sided wizard couldn’t help but be uncomfortable. To think that men who could never possibly be friends had to exchange such friendly greetings.
It was fine since they were on the same side, but if that weren’t the case, it would have been quite terrifying.
The pale-faced man politely removed his hat. The eyes revealed beneath the hat strangely never blinked. Only his black pupils and bright red lips stood out. Regardless of his perfect facial features and proportions, he somehow felt like a wax doll.
Just as Ross was briefly reflecting that one shouldn’t judge people by their appearance, the man made him uncomfortable again with strange behavior.
He looked down at the pair of military boots on the floor with calm eyes, then kicked them aside as if they were in his way. He had no intention of stepping around them in the spacious room. Then he began picking up and putting down sculptures and books displayed in the room, showing interest as if he really were an old friend.
Ross tried not to let it bother him. He called a subordinate to bring tea. It wasn’t easy to humor someone who wasn’t even an invited guest. It was even harder because he had a rough idea why he had come.
“Is this an urgent business? Why so sudden?”
“Priscilla Arcade. I wanted to meet her.”
He had come to see if there was a woman in Sabed who seemed suitable as his bride.
“She’s a warm-hearted woman. The more I think about it, there’s no one quite like her. I think she’d make a good mother.”
So his criteria was suddenly a warm heart.
“That’s unfortunate. I already suggested it, but she refused.”
“…”
Ross knew about the rumors that Yohan was looking for a bride, but he had never directly mentioned Priscilla.
Everything was something he had discovered and investigated by rummaging through memories on his own.
That there was a foolish woman in Sabed who lost her arm trying to save a comrade.
That she carried old-fashioned guns because she had no magical power at all.
Every time Yohan met him in Lamarian, he showed great interest in Priscilla’s existence. Even wanting to become friends seemed to have that purpose. He wanted him to build a bridge.
Yohan’s criteria for a bride included the condition of “a woman without magical power.”
In other words, the stuff about her kind heart was just a nice-sounding facade.
No, was that really a nice thing to say? Saying she was suitable to become a “mother”?
If he thought that was a compliment, there was really a big problem. The person involved might have been offended if she heard it.
The foremost nobleman of Lamarian.
A strange power holder who had never once fallen from the top during five hundred years, through several dynastic changes.
He had wanted to give Priscilla a chance to choose a peaceful later life, but now that he faced him again, he wondered if it might be fortunate that she had refused.
The conditions matched perfectly, and if only that broken feeling could be fixed, he might have closed his eyes and pushed it through considering that background.
Knock knock. The door opened. Hot tea with steam rising was placed on the table in one corner of the office. Yohan moved elegantly and sat on the leather sofa. Then he downed the tea in one gulp. He drank it like cold water, then chuckled and said:
“Does she hate me? That’s strange…we’ve never even met.”
It wouldn’t be stranger than spouting nonsense about how a woman he’d never met had a warm heart.
Ross leaned against his office desk and sighed silently. He decided he would never call Priscilla back to introduce them.
If he were some young guy in his twenties who looked his age, maybe, but if he had been like this for five hundred years, how could he possibly be fixed? When it’s hard to change even at fifty-years old.
“She’s a girl who would hang herself if forced to marry someone she dislikes. Give it up.”
There was no trace of joking in Ross’s stern voice telling him to give up.
Yohan, who had put down his teacup, also had his excited mood wiped away.
“…How sad. I don’t have much time, and women without magical power are rare.”
He made a genuinely regretful and sad expression. Ross made a show of sincere consolation. He couldn’t afford to make an enemy.
“True enough. You’ve got plenty of people out there hunting for you, haven’t you? With someone like Yohan as a potential son-in-law, I bet they could dig up hundreds of candidates.”
