Chapter 29
Chapter 029. People Whose War Has Not Ended (2)
“When does the training start?”
A gruff voice from a large-framed man cut through Aaron’s thoughts.
“Training?”
The northern dialect was fast and difficult to follow, but Aaron caught the meaning.
“Before we start training, we need a place where you can even survive Anata’s cold. We’ll be building that first.”
Aaron looked over the gathered men as he spoke.
“Once that’s done, I’ll train you so hard you’ll be begging me to stop—so don’t worry.”
With that, he handed them off to the knights under his command.
“If anyone stirs up trouble, I’ll drop them unarmed in the heart of barbarian territory.”
He left behind that chilling warning before turning around.
“Behave yourselves.”
It was all to make sure none of them caused trouble and provoked Her Grace’s displeasure.
With a report of the newly arrived recruits in hand, Aaron headed up to the floor where Rosalyn was.
His brisk steps up the stairs gradually slowed—perhaps a reflection of his heart.
He’d felt rushed to see her, but the closer he got, the heavier his chest grew.
‘Sionne Feitan.’
The name that had been plaguing Aaron’s thoughts lately.
‘What exactly does Her Grace see in that bastard?’
He couldn’t begin to guess what Rosalyn was thinking.
“Huu…”
At her office door, Aaron took a deep breath to steady himself. He didn’t know what to do with the turmoil in his heart.
Knock knock.
“Aaron Vanil, reporting, Your Grace.”
“Come in.”
Even the sound of her voice from behind the door lifted his spirits.
Steady and unwavering as always—the voice of a sovereign who never faltered.
But the moment the door opened, Aaron couldn’t stop his brows from furrowing.
“……”
The very man who irritated him most these days was seated beside Her Grace, helping her sort documents.
So shamelessly and naturally.
Lately, Her Grace had been busier than ever. She spent her entire day handling the affairs of Anata, and practiced swordsmanship in the brief time she had left.
And always at her side—was Sionne Feitan.
‘Why that sneaky bastard of all people!’
During the day, the man assisted Her Grace with light tasks or trained with her.
And at night… from what Jacob said, he was learning to read and write.
Aaron couldn’t understand it.
Why didn’t anyone suspect Sionne Feitan?
Why didn’t anyone question his reasons for staying so close to Her Grace?
“Aaron Vanil.”
Rosalyn called out to him then.
“Yes.”
Snapping out of it, Aaron looked at her. Just the sight of her gaze seemed to clear away all the turmoil he’d been drowning in.
“What is it?”
“I’ve brought the report on the new recruits.”
He lifted the document in his hand. It was a brief overview of the vagrants they had accepted.
“Well done.”
Rosalyn nodded lightly. Then she turned to Sionne.
“Sionne.”
“Yes, Rosalyn.”
“You read it and mark the sections I need to focus on.”
Rosalyn often delegated lower-priority documents to Sionne this way.
At first, it had simply been an excuse to help him study Hernian script. But over time, it turned into offloading excessive workloads onto an idle consort.
Thanks to Sionne’s surprisingly efficient work, productivity had gone up.
“Understood.”
Sionne stood and approached Aaron.
“You can hand it to me.”
But Aaron didn’t give up the report so easily. He gripped the edge tightly and gave it a little tug.
Sionne’s lips curled as he felt the resistance in Aaron’s fingers.
“……”
A silent contest of strength played out between the two men. And just as Aaron was about to let go of the tautly pulled document—
“!”
Sionne let go a fraction sooner.
“Shit.”
Aaron stumbled backward, biting the inside of his cheek in frustration.
At that moment—
“Oh dear.”
Sionne flashed a wide smile and caught Aaron’s arm.
“Are you alright? It seems you lost your footing.”
Damn that Feitan. That smug, insufferable Feitan.
Aaron felt a surge of rage rise from deep within and nearly bit down on his tongue. Falling flat on his back might’ve been less humiliating.
* * *
“You should’ve seen that bastard smile, brother!”
Aaron grumbled all the way to Jacob’s office.
Apparently, seeing the prince of a fallen kingdom smiling behind Rosalyn’s back had bothered him more than he could bear. His complaints showed no signs of stopping.
“I should’ve smashed his face back then when I had the chance!”
“Aaron.”
Jacob looked up from the report he was working on. He’d been willing to lend an ear, but this was starting to get excessive.
“That’s enough.”
“But, brother!”
Aaron furrowed his brows and clung to Jacob, hurt that even the person he trusted most was now reprimanding him.
His relationship with Her Grace felt increasingly distant. His bond with the knights was fraying.
Lately, Aaron found himself thinking things had been better back on the battlefield.
‘Back then, we only had each other.’
Jacob sighed and set down the quill he’d been holding.
“How long are you going to act like a child?”
“You think I’m acting like a child? What about me is childish?”
“All of it. Everything you’re doing right now.”
Jacob’s reply was blunt.
He was well aware that he was especially soft on Aaron. Having watched the younger knight grow up on the battlefield, it was hard to treat him coldly.
But it was time to say something before Aaron made a mistake he couldn’t undo.
“Do you really think this situation is normal?”
Jacob paused at Aaron’s sharp question.
In truth, he also felt uneasy calling the current state of things “normal.”
Her Grace’s consort—once a prince of the enemy kingdom. The words alone sounded incompatible.
‘But then again, why not?’
He signed his name at the bottom of the document and thought about it.
It really was strange.
For some, war had planted senseless hatred.
For others, it had brought endless emptiness and a deep empathy for humanity.
Aaron, clearly, was the former. Jacob, the latter.
“The war is over, Aaron.”
The long and brutal war had taught Jacob one thing: that the people of Feitan were ordinary people, too.
People dying because of the ambitions of those in power.
Lives crushed under the weight of a war too vast to resist.
Even Sionne Feitan, once a commoner who suddenly became a prince, was just one of those many lives.
“As Her Grace said, the prince of Feitan is no longer our enemy.”
Jacob finished tidying up the papers with a few sharp taps and stood from his seat. Just as he was about to tell Aaron to take a walk and cool off—
“So the war’s over just because someone says it is?”
Aaron’s resentful voice made Jacob halt in place.
“Every night, I go back to the battlefield.”
“……”
“I bury James and Glenn—my comrades—over and over again.”
Aaron clenched his trembling hands into fists.
“You say the war’s over. Then tell me—when does mine end?”
Jacob looked at him with quiet sympathy. He knew exactly how much Aaron had suffered.
“Aaron.”
But sadly, even he had no clear answer to give.
“You’re not the only one. Me, the other knights, even Her Grace…”
“……”
“We’re all still there.”
It was a phrase that could’ve easily been taken as a call to stop complaining. And maybe it would’ve stung even more because of that.
But that wasn’t what Jacob meant.
“That’s exactly why Her Grace keeps saying the war is over. If we stay shackled to those memories, it’s no different than still living on the battlefield.”
Jacob walked up to him and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
“So you can rest now, Aaron. There’s no need to keep fighting. The war is over.”
“Brother…”
A few words couldn’t heal the wound. The pain ran too deep, and the words were far too easy.
But when spoken by someone who shared the same scars, they meant something more.
The kind of bond where even a glance could convey unspoken pain. A comfort only possible between those who’d been through the same.
In the end, it was another scar that soothed the sting of one.
After gently comforting the tearful Aaron, Jacob left the office.
‘I know you can’t stand that fallen prince. But don’t let it show. Unless you want to disgrace Her Grace—stop it.’
He made sure to warn Aaron one last time on his way out.
And because Aaron’s feelings for Rosalyn ran so deep, the advice sank in. Just as Jacob expected, Aaron nodded.
