Raoul bowed his head as he responded. It had been three days since they departed the ruined cabin in the valley. The Crown Prince had displayed no unusual behavior since then. He was as sharp and vigilant as the brilliant commander he had been during the height of the war against Lamallac. His expression remained composed and unreadable.

Seated on his horse, the Crown Prince glanced at the standard-bearers before scanning the area, as if searching for something.

“Where is Renéee?”

“She is traveling under the escort of the 3rd Battalion and is expected to arrive at the camp soon.”

The Crown Prince nodded slightly and Raoul’s expression turned cold. It seemed that the Crown Prince’s question about Renéee Marie also implied concern for the other woman travelling with her. Since their accommodations were shared, asking about Renéee’s movements was practically the same as asking about hers.

Raoul bowed again, finished his report and turned to leave. Just then the sound of hoofbeats filled the air and a modest carriage came into view. Alexis van Messelan, leading the 3rd Battalion, reined in his horse and turned his gaze towards them. The carriage door opened to reveal Lady Amiens.

The Crown Prince’s eyes followed her, but even after Lady Amiens stepped out, there was no sign of the other woman. The illegitimate child was also missing.

“She’s probably ill.”

The rough, unpaved roads had clearly taken their toll on Lady Amiens, for her complexion looked pale and tired. She had travelled these rough roads many times now, all the way down to the valley where the ruined cabin lay. Raoul remembered that she hadn’t complained on those earlier journeys, despite having to ride and then walk to reach the valley.

“You’ve been through a lot.”

Raoul offered politely as she approached. Fanning herself briskly, Lady Amiens walked up to the Crown Prince and stopped before him. From his seat on the horse, the Crown Prince looked down at her, his gaze glancing briefly towards the carriage.

“How long did they say it would take to reach Solam—”

“Where is Swan?”

The Crown Prince cut her off mid-sentence and directed his question at Renéee. His tone was calm, but it was clear that he was looking for someone – the woman who was nowhere to be seen. She was the same woman who had packed her bags that night to follow him. Raoul remembered how she had stood outside the ruined cabin, staring at the Crown Prince blankly until he had mounted his horse.

“What? Who’s Swan?”

Renéee’s long hair fluttered in the wind as the Crown Prince’s expression twisted with open anger. It was a stark display of rage, uncharacteristic of the man who hadn’t even flinched when ordering the execution of a subordinate who had served him loyally for years.

Renéee froze, looking up at her cousin with wide eyes.

“I asked you where she is.”

“Why… why are you mad at me?”

“I will look for her.”

Raoul quickly offered, attempting to pacify the situation.

“Didn’t she ride with you in the carriage?”

Renéee stammered, her lips trembling under the icy weight of his tone. Raoul stepped in and explained to calm the Crown Prince. Before leaving the ruined cabin, the Crown Prince had ordered the woman to travel with Renéee in her carriage. The 3rd Battalion had been assigned to escort the carriage, while the Crown Prince led the 1st Battalion.

The Crown Prince’s procession had left first, descending from the valley, with Renéee and the woman following. Three days had passed. Given the difference in their travel speeds, it was inevitable that they would end up in separate camps. The Crown Prince had assumed that his orders would be followed without question. What he hadn’t considered was that Renéee was involved.

To the Crown Prince, Renéee was neither a subordinate nor a servant. She was his cousin, and he was her cousin-brother. It was precisely this familial bond that allowed her to throw fits and raise her voice in that decrepit cabin—behavior she could only get away with because she was family.

“I don’t know! I don’t know anything about that woman! That… that woman has nothing to do with me! Whether she comes or not, it’s none of my concern!”

Raoul hid his unease, swallowing his tension as he watched Renéee defy the Crown Prince with a sulking face. Her behaviour was precarious at best. This was the first time the Crown Prince had shown his displeasure so openly, and the fact that the source of his irritation was a mere peasant woman was both disturbing and unsettling.

Raoul could understand Renéee’s feelings. Most of the knights in the camp probably felt the same way. Before the Crown Prince could react to Renéee’s defiance and averted gaze, Raoul interjected.

“The 4th and 5th Battalions might have information.”

Assuming, of course, that she had been traveling with the convoy.

“I’ll dispatch a messenger right away.”

***

Swan glanced down at her blistered feet. Between her big toe and second toe, there were one, then two large blisters. Between her pinky toe and fourth toe, another three had formed.

The blisters themselves weren’t the real issue; what truly bothered her was the sprained ankle she’d suffered while stumbling down a steep slope and the toenail she had somehow lost from her fourth toe without even realizing it.

On top of that, carrying Mirabella on her back instead of in her arms was wreaking havoc on her lower back. It felt as if it might give out at any moment. She alternated between holding her daughter and carrying her on her back, but when her arms grew too tired, she had no choice but to return to carrying her on her back. Swan looked down at Mirabella, who, exhausted from crying, weakly flailed her hands and let out soft, wheezing breaths.

It was now the third day of the march. Mirabella’s constant crying had made it even harder to keep pace with the procession. All the soldiers in the march were men, and it was obvious that none of them welcomed the presence of a wailing infant. If this had been a caravan of refugees fleeing war, it might have been easier to endure—but these were armed soldiers, burdened with heavy weapons, not the type to have patience for such disturbances.

If there had been other women in the group, it might have eased the burden a little. But Swan knew no one—not a single familiar face. Even the knights leading the soldiers were strangers, the very same ones who had once threatened and intimidated her. She remembered how, even after the commotion at the cabin, they still looked at her with cold, disapproving eyes.

Even they were nowhere to be found. Swan still had no idea where Atlion had gone or if she would ever see him again. All she could do was follow the marching soldiers, her thoughts drifting back to the events that unfolded after that night in the cabin.

Atlion had instructed her to “follow Renéee.” Swan had only stared at him in silence, her expression blank. As her unfocused eyes lingered on him, he averted his gaze and turned to a young officer, issuing some kind of command. That was the last interaction she had with him.

A shiver ran down her spine as she recalled the events of three nights ago. After Renéee’s loud tirade and dramatic display, Tom had been dragged in at dawn, bound tightly with ropes and sobbing.

But Atlion didn’t force Swan to kneel or demand an explanation. He simply stood and watched in silence, not questioning her intentions or the reasons for her actions. The only one who demanded answers was Renéee, his cousin, who asked sharply if she had really done what she was accused of.

Swan hadn’t nodded, but her silence spoke for itself. Atlion looked away, and as the first light of dawn broke, Tom was released. Atlion then donned the shining armour brought by one of his officers and pinned the golden insignia of the Imperial Crest to his shoulder.

He called Swan and told her to follow his cousin Renéee. That was it. Swan couldn’t bring himself to get into the carriage. Renéee, his cousin, not only disliked her, she seemed to loathe her – her hostility was so intense that it was as if she really wanted to see Swan dead.

Under the sharp, cutting gaze of those eyes, Swan felt utterly helpless. It was impossible to withstand such a presence in such a small space. Renéee’s expression made it clear that the very fact of Swan’s existence was an irritation.

She looked as if she wanted to vanquish not only Swan, but her newborn daughter as well. The thought alone was cruel enough to leave Swan deeply shaken.

During the descent from the valley, Renéee had been carried on the back of one of the knights escorting her. Once they reached a point where the path leveled enough for horseback travel, she mounted a horse. Swan, by contrast, walked the entire way to the carriage, carrying her belongings in one hand and her baby in the other.

By the time Renéee was on horseback, Swan had put the baby on her back, leaving both hands free to carry her luggage. When she finally arrived at the place where the carriage was waiting, Renéee didn’t ask Swan if she wanted to ride in the carriage, nor did she make any effort to force her to do so.

Swan just stood there and watched in silence as Renéee climbed into the carriage. Turning to the others, she asked if she could say goodbye to Tom.

Her request was met with obvious annoyance. The atmosphere made it clear that she was not welcome to make such a request, so she pleaded, her tone almost desperate. As the procession slowly moved on, a knight on horseback waved her away with a dismissive gesture, as if to brush off a nuisance.

Seizing the opportunity, Swan cradled her baby and crossed the stream towards Tom’s house.

Last night Tom had been dragged back to the cabin in tears, trembling with fear. Now he sat drunk on rum, his cheeks and the bridge of his nose flushed. A dull pain settled in the corner of Swan’s heart. Tom was a man who still carried the burden of a tragic childhood. Despite this, it had repeatedly made unreasonable demands on him. It was because of those demands that he had suffered so much and been in such danger.

It was all because of her. Swan’s eyes became wet again. No matter how much she cried, the grief in her heart refused to ease.

The father of her child had never wanted her pregnancy. The truth was undeniable: Swan had nothing left to hold him back. She had hoped that the child in her womb would give him a reason not to leave the cabin. But what would happen to her and the child if his memory returned fully?

Would she end up like her mother, raising her daughter alone and facing public scorn on a bad day? Or like her grandmother, accused of witchcraft for being an unlicensed herbalist, resented by the monks for being a commoner handling precious herbs, and finally persecuted without warning?

Tom would never let such a fate befall her. Despite everything, he cared for Swan as if she were his own daughter. He had no children of his own, but he cared for Swan as if she were the child he’d never had. Because of that, he would do anything to protect her.

The morning after Swan sought out Tom to share the news of her pregnancy, he sold the armor to a merchant dealing in stolen goods. The buyer, accepting the soot-covered fragments, cast a skeptical glance at Tom.