It Turned Out She Wasn't a Favored Concubine - Episode 53

Clatter clatter

I pretended to look out the window and stole a glance at Giscal, who was seated diagonally across from me. His gaze was also fixed toward the window.

Even though the curtains were drawn. With just the two of us in the carriage, the air felt ticklish. I thought we’d grown close after dining and going out together, but being in this enclosed space felt different.

Feeling the awkwardness, I cleared my throat. His response came immediately.

“Are you cold?”

“No, my throat just feels dry.”

Giscal reached into the basket Louis had brought and handed me a bottle of water. I wasn’t particularly thirsty, but I couldn’t ignore his kindness.

I gulped down the water and shifted my eyes.

“Sorry for dragging you out again today. And for insisting on bringing the Imperial Guard.”

Giscal spoke softly.

“Why do you keep apologizing? Both last time and this time, I came because I wanted to. The peace negotiations with the Kingdom of Armatan are completely over now. And I understand why you insisted on bringing the Guard—to avoid unnecessary friction later.”

“…”

Giscal had clearly understood my concerns. Feeling embarrassed, I quickly changed the subject.

“How did the negotiations with Armatan end?”

“They wrapped up in our favor. The chancellor of Armatan resisted until the end, but the king, fearing another war, suppressed him.”

“Oh, the owner of that sword…”

During the victory ceremony, Giscal had presented a sword to Erich, which was said to be the king of Armatan’s treasured blade.

“No, it was his younger brother, the prince, who ascended the throne. So now the kingdom is divided between the new king’s faction and those supporting the former king’s son. It’s a chaotic situation. From what I saw, a civil war might break out. So much blood was already spilled in the last war…”

Giscal spoke bitterly. There was no joy in his voice, despite being the victor.

“You don’t want Armatan to fall into civil war? Even though they were the enemy?”

“The war is over now. I hope the new king can stabilize things. Civil wars over succession tend to end only when one side is completely wiped out. It’ll be just as bloody as the last war. Of course, His Majesty welcomes the possibility of civil war, so maybe my hopes are misguided as a citizen of the Empire.”

“His Majesty wants a civil war?”

I stiffened as I asked. Armatan had already been subdued—was Erich seeking another war?

“His Majesty wants to fully annex Armatan. That’s why the strategic eastern region of Brdil was incorporated into the Empire in the negotiations. It’ll serve as a foothold for future victories. If a civil war breaks out, that moment will come sooner.”

I had expected post-war negotiations to be complex, but this was beyond intricate—calculating the fate of nations and the flow of future wars.

Of course, for the Empire, more territory and people meant strength. But war erased countless lives in an instant. I blurted out impulsively:

“I don’t think wishing for peace is ever a wrong desire.”

Giscal lifted his gaze. His round, red eyes gleamed in the sunlight.

“That’s the first time I’ve heard someone say that.”

“I’m not criticizing you, Giscal. Serving the Empire is a noble duty. But I think striving for peace benefits everyone more than war does. Haha, I didn’t mean to get so philosophical.”

I laughed awkwardly, but Giscal remained serious.

“You’re right. Swords always call forth more war. Armatan and the Kingdom of Jaren are both examples of history repeating itself. Especially Jaren…”

“What about the Kingdom of Jaren?”

As someone interested in history, I couldn’t ignore the war stories from a commander like Giscal. Besides, Jaren was Marian’s homeland.

“Jaren… No, never mind.”

Giscal suddenly clammed up.

“Why?”

“It’s a war long over. No need to dwell on it.”

“A year ago isn’t that long ago. And it was a war you won.”

“It wasn’t because of me.”

Giscal cut me off firmly.

“They brought disaster upon themselves. The war with Jaren wasn’t my victory. Sorry, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

He made it clear he didn’t want to continue. His expression darkened, and I fell silent.

The war with Jaren—called the Zaresthen War—had turned Giscal, a newly appointed marquis, into a war hero.

Anyone else would have boasted about it for life, but not Giscal. He sat there like a sinner, eyes filled with guilt, staring at the floor of the swaying carriage.

Just as the awkward silence returned, Hans, leading the convoy, shouted:

“We’re almost there. Please prepare to disembark.”

I cracked the window open and peeked outside. A small village appeared in the distance. The Del Orphanage was located on the outskirts of a village called Rockfield. The villagers, curious about the long procession of carriages, followed us to the orphanage gates. As they whispered among themselves, a middle-aged woman opened the gates with both hands.

“Welcome. I’m Iblem, the director of Del Orphanage.”

Iblem was a plump woman in her sixties with a warm demeanor. She bowed deeply to greet us. Giscal received her greeting with a blank expression.

“You’ve heard the gist from Ortrand, right?”

“Yes. Where is the child named Loki? His friends are waiting.”

Louis, who had arrived in another carriage with Loki, led him toward Iblem. She smiled warmly and knelt to meet Loki’s eyes.

“Hello? I’m Iblem. Philip and Lisa told me a lot about you. You’re excited to see your friends, aren’t you?”

Loki, slightly stiff, nodded quickly.

“Then shall we go inside?”

“Yes! I want to see my friends!”

Iblem gently took Loki’s small hand and turned to us.

“Please, come in.”

Her respectful but child-centered manner left a strong impression.

The common room was filled with the savory scent of food, and dozens of children had gathered.

They glanced at Giscal and me as we entered behind Iblem. She clapped twice and addressed the children.

“These two are Lord Giscal and Lady Arne of the Edelheit family. You all wanted to meet them, right? They came here because they heard your wishes, so let’s greet them properly.”

She placed a hand on the shoulder of a boy standing at the far right.

“Philip? You’ve prepared something, haven’t you?”

That must be Loki’s friend Philip. Taller than his peers, Philip stepped forward shyly.

“We heard Lady Arne was coming, so we prepared a song. We’d be grateful if you listened.”

I hadn’t expected such a gift. Philip looked around at the children and mouthed a count:

One, two, three.

The children began to sing in unison. It was a song I’d never heard before, but their clear voices were beautiful. The warmth of the melody made me close my eyes and listen.

“It’s a traditional lullaby from the southern region of Edelheit. It’s a song of gratitude to a benefactor…”

Louis whispered beside me. Now I remembered—Ortrand had said the children wanted to thank me. I hadn’t imagined they’d prepare a song. Their flushed, excited faces were adorable. I applauded enthusiastically as the song ended.

“That was wonderful. You must’ve worked hard to prepare it. Thank you. And as a small token of appreciation, I brought gifts for you all.”

At my signal, porters entered carrying large boxes. The children cheered at the sight.

It was impossible to tell who had been at Del Orphanage originally and who had come from other orphanages. They all mingled, chatting excitedly.

As the porters set down the boxes, the children swarmed around them. Some tried on new clothes, some lit up at the sight of toys, and others bounced around in new shoes.

Their joy brought a smile to my face. I glanced at Giscal—his usually stern expression had softened.

Just then, two children ran toward Loki.

“Loki!”

Loki recognized them and opened his arms.

“Philip! Rosa!”

The tall boy and the small girl with golden curls embraced him tightly. These were the friends Loki had worried about so much.

They were both safe. Rosa, especially, looked healthier than expected. Perhaps thanks to regular medication, her bright, smiling face was absolutely precious.

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