One Day, My Fiancé Brought His First Love Along - Chapter 79

Smack.

Someone grabbed her arm, forcing Aileen to stop in her tracks.

“What the—”

A surge of irritation rose through her body at the sudden, unwelcome contact.

She yanked her arm back sharply, slapping away the hand that had touched her. Her gaze turned razor-sharp as she stared at the face of the man who’d lost all sense of boundaries.

“You’re leaving before I’m finished talking. That’s a little rude, don’t you think, Dame Aileen?”

The brown-haired knight, with a crooked smile on his lips, rubbed the wrist she had just brushed off and stared at her.

A face so forgettable she wouldn’t recognize him if they passed on the street. Who even was this guy?

Neither remarkable nor rough—so plain, it made him hard to remember. Aileen was sure she’d never seen him before. No matter how far she dug through her memory.

And yet the way he glared at her, as if he harbored some deep personal grudge—it was chilling.

Unfiltered hatred poured from his icy blue eyes like sharpened arrows aimed directly at her.

Aileen wasn’t generous enough to accept such raw hostility without knowing its cause.

“Do I owe you my time or something?”

Her voice was laced with sarcasm, and his face twisted in a flash of ugly frustration.

Looking at him again, maybe “plain” had been too kind. There was something unpleasant about his features after all.

Still nameless to her, the knight sneered and replied with fake composure.

“You hogged the water. An apology’s the least you could offer.”

A ridiculous excuse. Aileen immediately sensed this man would be looking for a reason to provoke her until the end of the campaign.

So she raised her voice a little—pretending to talk to herself as she let her words fly into the air.

“Amazing. There are people in this world who believe a single canteen can block off an entire stream.”

Indirect jabs always stung more than direct retorts.

As expected, his expression turned murderous. The other two knights at his side flushed with visible anger.

They were just about to puff themselves up again, ready to escalate, when—

“Aileen! What are you doing over there? Come on! The captain says we’re moving out—everyone’s supposed to regroup!”

A voice rang out from not too far away. A knight from the Khan Order called loudly in their direction, drawing the attention of nearby knights.

“Tch. Consider yourself lucky.”

Apparently, the man didn’t want to cause a scene. Despite being a knight, his childish threat sounded more like a petty thug’s parting shot before he slipped away, glancing around nervously.

Aileen shook her head lazily, then turned toward her horse, slinging her now-heavy canteen with ease.

Not far away, Carlisle had just finished a short meeting with Piel when he spotted Aileen. His instincts screamed to run to her—but he suppressed the urge.

How could she get dragged into something like that in the brief moment he looked away?

The three who had confronted Aileen were all knights from the Lil Order. The one leading them—the one who showed blatant hostility toward her—was particularly forgettable.

Carlisle had barely remembered his name.

Was it Boris? A second son from a viscount’s family—someone who had quietly continued his knight training, according to his report.

As far as he could recall, there was no record of Boris being close to Haller. Nor was there any noted connection to the Marquess of Hessiden.

Still… something felt off.

Carlisle’s calm eyes sharpened as he studied the man’s face, committing every detail to memory.

Should he be grateful that having Aileen in his squad was already proving useful?

A subtle chill passed over Carlisle’s expressionless face.

It was hard to protect Aileen in a place crawling with knights. Back when they were lovers, he could stay by her side without excuse. Now, even standing near her was difficult.

Carlisle hadn’t forgotten that Aileen used to dislike camping missions when she was with the Sel Order. She’d tried her best to hide it, but he had noticed.

It was part of the reason he’d maneuvered to have her assigned under his command for this subjugation mission.

Even knowing the risks—that someone might see her taking painkillers, or that their proximity during battle might expose something—he had still chosen this path.

As Aileen approached from a distance, Carlisle shifted his gaze upward, focusing on the endlessly blue sky.

The Marquess of Hessiden scanned the document in his hands, a pleased smile forming on his face.

The information he’d received this time was quite useful. With it, he might finally bring misfortune upon that irritating Revart girl.

And perhaps stir up trouble for Carlisle as well—just enough to cause that man some emotional stress. It was more than a worthwhile trade.

“Consider your last blunder erased.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

The man who had anxiously awaited the Marquess’s reaction bowed his head in relief.

He knew better than anyone the true face of Marquess Hessiden—who played the role of a noble gentleman in public. Had this information failed to please him, the consequences would’ve been… horrific.

“Are you certain about this route? If something goes wrong again, I won’t be able to guarantee anything.”

Marquess Hessiden narrowed his eyes as he confirmed once more. The man before him answered with firm resolve.

“It’s accurate. And we’ll continue exchanging information regularly, so even if the schedule changes, there’s no need to worry.”

They had taken extra precautions this time. After being completely left out during the perfume incident, he’d stepped forward himself to ensure he had a voice in the plan.

The subjugation force, divided into three units, had agreed during their pre-departure briefing to report any changes in schedule or route back to the capital. The goal was to allow swift cooperation in case of unexpected developments.

Unless one of the squad leaders deliberately failed to report, the Marquess would certainly get what he wanted this time—of that, the man was sure.

“Good. Then let’s pass this information on to the northern tribes.”

“You can trust me, my lord.”

“If the results are satisfactory, you’ll be rewarded as well.”

“Thank you.”

Hessiden waved his chin, dismissing the man.

Once the door had closed behind him, the Marquess reached into his desk and pulled out a crystal orb, about the size of a newborn’s head. As he rubbed its surface and waited a moment, misty shapes began to swirl inside.

Soon, the vague form solidified into a cloaked figure, shrouded in black robes.

“Marquess Hessiden. It’s been a while.”

At the low, amused voice, Hessiden curled his lips into a false smile, concealing his disgust.

“Indeed. And I bring news you’ll find very useful.”

“Oh?” The robed figure’s interest was piqued. But Hessiden didn’t reveal anything just yet. A cryptic smile lingered on his face.

Though they were allies for now, neither side trusted the other. They both knew this was a relationship that could break at any moment. The unspoken agreement was simple: use one another as much as possible.

“There’s something I’d like you to do with this information.”

“Another request? Apart from the one you made last time?”

Hessiden nodded.

“It’s similar… just a little more troublesome. But I think it’s a fair trade, considering the quality of the intel.”

“Let’s hear it. You always have your reasons, Marquess.”

The cloaked figure smiled politely but sighed lightly once he heard the full request.

“Certainly a bit of a hassle. Still, the information you’ve provided is more than worth it. I’ll gladly assist.”

His words were dripping with arrogance, despite it being a balanced exchange. Hessiden found the tone grating—but concealed his irritation behind a smooth expression.

After all, the fallout from the perfume debacle was still fresh.

“I’ll be waiting for results, then.”

Aside from a short break to rest and water the horses, they rode non-stop.

Boris and his gang had been quiet since their first, easily defused provocation—either stewing over it or busy scheming something else. Even through dinner, they remained silent.

During that time, Aileen had grown closer to Piel. As an unspoken third-in-command in the joint subjugation force, she naturally rode near Carlisle and Piel, listening to their conversation to pass the time.

During rest stops, those topics often carried over into light conversation with Piel.

“Aileen, you should set up your bedroll near me and the captain.”

Piel, holding his own gear, gave her a warm smile. Aileen nodded in gratitude and followed him.

“Just two more days, and we’ll be able to sleep in a proper village. Hang in there.”

“Camping… never really gets easier, no matter how many times I do it.”

“Ah, right. You’ve had experience with field missions too, haven’t you?”

“Yes. Though it’s been quite a while.”

Aileen chuckled softly. Sensing the shift in mood, Piel tactfully changed the subject.

“Once we reach the village, you have to try the lamb stew. It’s famous there—no gamey smell, and the taste is incredible.”

“Really? I actually love lamb stew. That’s great to hear.”

It wasn’t just polite small talk—she meant it. She’d loved it so much at one point that even Carlisle, who had no real food preferences, had once made a face like he’d had too much of it.

Whoever planned their route,  had done a fine job, she thought.

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