Chapter 56
Contrary to expectations that the Baron would immediately take his bride with him, the woman remained at the temple.
Was it an action taken out of awareness of the priests’ gaze? Or perhaps it was the Baron’s intention to keep up appearances for a night or so.
Up close, the woman was more delicate than Aldrick had expected.
For someone like Aldrick, who trained harshly every day, lifting her onto the horse was easier than eating porridge.
Her face, revealed after the veil was lifted, was pale with fear.
Perhaps because of her thick, curly brown hair, her face looked even smaller and younger.
When Aldrick met her eyes for the first time, he was inwardly flustered.
She was much prettier than he had expected.
Or rather than pretty… should he say cute?
Her small, finely-shaped face and sparkling brown eyes left a deep impression on his heart for some reason.
She reminded him of a long-eared puppy he had once briefly raised. That puppy, too, had been small and soft and cute—just like her.
However, on the road as he took her by horse, Aldrick realized that she was more spirited than she looked.
All things considered, Aldrick found himself quite fond of her.
From the start, he’d never had a chance to associate with girls his age. She was the first woman with whom he’d ever exchanged this many words.
But what did it matter that he liked her now? She was going to leave anyway.
Even after they returned home, Aldrick didn’t pay attention to whatever she was chattering about.
He had learned well in his short life that giving affection to someone who won’t stay is meaningless.
Once he left for the battlefield, she would return to her family without a second glance.
That’s why Aldrick deliberately refrained from showing her any interest.
When she asked for money, he felt a twinge of irritation, but with a sigh, he simply gave it to her.
Even though the money her father had extorted was no small sum, Aldrick handed it over without resistance.
And the next day, Aldrick left without any lingering attachment.
For a bride of one night, he felt he had fulfilled his duty.
With a trace of regret, Aldrick left the home he had lived in his entire life.
But seeing the fragile silhouette of the woman sleeping slumped over the kitchen table somehow made him feel sorry, so he moved her to the bed.
And that was the end of it.
Aldrick forgot the woman.
***
No. In all actuality, Aldrick could not forget her.
Like all wars, the war against Aslan was brutal, horrific, and extremely difficult.
Amid the blood and death rampant on the battlefield, Aldrick crossed the line of life and death daily.
Every day, he saw piles of corpses—friend and foe alike.
Savage, barren days continued without end.
Whenever he lay his battle-worn body down in the desolate barracks, thoughts of that woman often came to mind.
So, in truth, he hadn’t forgotten her.
Whenever thoughts of the woman who had become his wife arose, Aldrick habitually touched the ring hanging from his neck.
It was his small, private comfort.
From as early as he could remember, Aldrick had been an orphan. He had always been alone.
Begging to survive in a village slum, Aldrick was lucky enough around the age of twelve to catch the eye of a high-ranking knight and began life as a squire.
Since then, he had lived a dull life of nothing but wielding a sword.
The woman had been the first person to ever form what one might call a “bond” in such a life.
Even if all that remained was a marriage certificate, Aldrick constantly reminded himself that, for a day at least, he had a wife. He had a family.
Later on, he couldn’t clearly remember her appearance, but her soft-looking brown hair and warm brown eyes stayed in his heart for a long time.
Maybe that was why, even when the tides of war began to turn in their favor and discipline loosened, Aldrick had no desire to visit places like brothels as other soldiers did.
He was, at least on paper, a married man, and no matter how much of an illusion it was, he didn’t want to betray his family.
Even if she had long since forgotten him.
And so, it was no surprise that Aldrick was taken aback when he returned home after the war.
He thought it strange to see smoke rising from the chimney of his house, flowers blooming in the surprisingly well-kept garden, chickens and chicks waddling about.
But the strangest thing of all was the woman who opened the door.
Aldrick stared at her in disbelief.
Why are you still here?
Her presence didn’t feel real, and for a moment, Aldrick was speechless.
Had he seen her so often in his mind at the battlefield that he was now seeing things?
Even as she hesitantly welcomed him, even as she served him food with practiced hands, Aldrick accepted it all in a daze.
A hidden part of him was overjoyed that she was still there.
Just the fact that it wasn’t an empty house waiting for him filled him with a deep sense of contentment.
Yet, at the same time, he didn’t trust her.
Maybe she had returned after hearing of his survival, hoping to squeeze something out of him again.
So Aldrick kept his suspicions.
But he couldn’t bring himself to doubt even the traces of her hands left all throughout the house.
A house that had always been cold and desolate in his memory had turned into a warm, pretty place—just like her.
And when he saw her dressed in a ridiculous disguise, saying she was off to the village, Aldrick finally decided to trust her completely.
Violet must have lived here alone the whole time, ever since her greedy father had left.
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