Take a saint as a wife?

What nonsense!

Could he even feel desire for that woman?

To plant his seed in a woman wrapped in holiness for warp and purity for weft?

“I’d be fortunate not to be beaten to death for violating the saint’s body.”

Just thinking about it made his head throb.

Lucilia Teneri was fundamentally different from him. She had never experienced hardship or known loss.

This might seem like her greatest ordeal, but even that…

Hadn’t she already bypassed it through the Marquis’s power?

Even when they reached the estate, he had no intention of treating her like a princess. Far from being a princess, she was nothing but an obstacle.

The Marquis made his blood boil.

What was the big deal about granting him a title? Was it given freely? No, he had offered enormous wealth in exchange for power.

And yet the Marquis treated him like a stray dog, as if he had bestowed some great favor.

It would be stranger if his resentment toward the Marquis didn’t extend to his daughter.

If Lucilia was a glossy grain, then he was a useless barley husk.

He had to fill himself with substance and prove his worth. He had struggled desperately not to be blown away by the wind to reach his current position.

Just when he had finally proven his abilities, they demanded he carry that woman and fall back to the ground.

He’d had enough of being forced into a mold and treated like a dog.

“My life has truly become a mess.”

Though he felt she should have walked, he couldn’t pass his nominal wife to another knight, so he had accommodated her.

If only her knee hadn’t been torn…he wouldn’t have given her a second glance.

“Do I really have to take responsibility for her for the rest of my life? Sigh… what a headache.”

Aaron clicked his tongue and glared at the tent Lucilia had entered.

Shortly after, a knight approached awkwardly with a watery soup and a hard piece of bread, and asked hesitantly:

“Commander, what should we do about her meal?”

“You take it to her.”

“…Understood.”

Though he didn’t dare disobey, his reluctance to approach the alleged witch was evident.

They had spread rumors that meeting her eyes would steal one’s soul and make one a slave to evil spirits, and it seemed they truly believed it.

Aaron didn’t care whether anyone became a slave to evil spirits.

He passed the task to the knight, thinking that seeing her innocent face would only trouble him more.

* * *

A pale light filtered through the forest.

Aaron woke at dawn and had already prepared to start the day early.

He walked steadily out of his tent, cutting through the dawn air where white breath dissipated.

Knights who had risen just as early brought water from the stream to prepare breakfast. Some lit fires, while others dismantled tents.

Without specific instructions, everyone efficiently handled their tasks. Everyone except Lucilia.

Always dawdling.

Couldn’t she hear the busy sounds around her?

Sleeping so leisurely among all these men.

How nice to be so carefree.

“Hey.”

“Yes, Commander.”

Aaron stopped a passing knight, intending to ask him to wake Lucilia, but then reconsidered.

It was dawn, and if she was sleeping so deeply, her appearance might be disheveled.

Regardless of whether he would claim her body, she was going to be his wife, and he couldn’t help but be concerned.

“Never mind. I’ll do it.”

Aaron gripped his sword and trudged forward.

He bent his upper body and thr*st his head forward to ensure his voice would penetrate the tent.

“Are you awake?”

“…”

“We’re departing soon.”

“…”

There was no sound from inside.

Unable to think of an appropriate title to call her by, he cleared his throat instead.

“Ahem! It’s time to leave, so please get up now.”

“…”

How could she not hear him calling like this?

As someone who always responded sensitively to his surroundings regardless of sleep, he couldn’t understand.

In a campsite where enemies might infiltrate or wild animals might attack, falling into such a deep sleep was both impossible and dangerous.

With such a rotten mindset, one would not only fail to protect oneself but would also drive allies into peril.

Better not to wield a sword at all.

Aaron, comparing Lucilia to a knight, called out once more to the lazy woman.

“Will you please get up now?”

He raised his voice while tapping the cover, but the tent remained as quiet as a grave.

With no choice, he bent his knee and pulled the tent flap aside.

“Are you still sleep—”

As the words left his mouth, he swiftly scanned the interior.

Beside her lay the bread and soup from yesterday, untouched.

She hadn’t even touched the food. Moreover, she had pulled the blanket up to her chin and was curled up tightly.

Aaron heard faint breathing. Lucilia was groaning and making sounds of distress.

His once smooth forehead creased deeply.

“Hey. What’s wrong? Are you ill?”

He crawled into the cramped interior, barely large enough for one adult to lie down, and examined her complexion.

Her lips were parched and her face pale from labored breathing.

Aaron carefully touched her forehead.

It was hot with fever.

“What’s this? Has the wound worsened?”

He hesitantly grabbed the hem of her dress.

His fingertips twitched at the feeling of committing a sin by lifting her skirt. But there was no time to delay.

Aaron boldly lifted her dress, approaching it as if examining an injured soldier.

Just yesterday, he hadn’t taken it seriously.

He had dismissed it, thinking she was bleeding because she fell, and limping because it hurt.
If she couldn’t bear it, she should have said something, not foolishly enduring until it got this bad.

Seeing the reddish swelling around the wound, he frowned.

Beyond the annoying situation, he was astounded by how fragile a woman’s body could be.

It was vastly different from the knights who withstood stabs and cuts without major issues. Who would have thought that merely falling on the ground could lead to this?

After sighing, he securely fastened the tent entrance and sought out Rombon.

“You called for me?”

“Did you bring emergency medicine?”

“We always prepare for treating injuries. Who’s hurt?”

When Aaron’s gaze fell on Lucilia’s tent, Rombon nodded knowingly.

“Ah, I thought she might have been injured during the pursuit.”

“The wound has worsened, and she’s burning with fever.”

“Oh dear… that’s unfortunate.”

Rombon responded in a tone that didn’t sound unfortunate at all as he stroked his bushy beard.

Instead of quickly fetching medicine, he stood firmly as if witnessing an interesting spectacle. Aaron glared at him.

“What are you doing? Hurry and bring something.”

“Yes! I’ll bring herbal powder right away.”

Yet he still dawdled.

Would he only move if kicked in the shin?

Aaron’s eyes flashed dangerously. Despite the intimidating pressure he exuded, Rombon remained unfazed and looked at Aaron playfully.

“Commander.”

“What now!”

Normally, Rombon would have tactfully left, but for some reason, he seemed determined to irritate Aaron.

With his patience already thin because of Lucilia, Rombon’s teasing was like adding fuel to the fire.

“While medicine is important, shouldn’t we also take more active measures?”

“Suture treatment?”

Aaron raised his arm high without further comment.

If they were on a battlefield, a physician would have accompanied them, but this trip to the capital only involved the knights for reporting border defense matters to the king.

Thwack—

Rombon, struck on the back of his head, let out a comical scream.

“Ah! Why resort to violence first?”

“Think before you speak nonsense. Where would we find a physician to suture the wound?”

“That’s exactly what I was going to say.”

Suggesting that the commander should think more deeply, as if he had asked for a non-existent physician to stitch the wound, earned him another blow.

Rombon scratched the back of his head and grumbled.

“You jump to conclusions and then take it out on me…”

The bluish sky gradually brightened.

The slowly rising sun dispersed the darkness, spreading its radiant beams.

Sunlight filtering through the leaves illuminated Aaron’s face. His handsome features enhanced by the light were breathtakingly fantastic.

Rombon marveled anew at Aaron, who embodied both manly spirit and captivating beauty. Simultaneously, he thought that only Lucilia, the most beautiful woman in the kingdom, would be suitable to stand beside his master.

Rombon looked alternately at the tent where the saint lay and then at Aaron.

“You know that wiping her body with a wet cloth is the most effective way to reduce fever, right?”