Chapter 72…………………
Eryshi felt the tips of her ears flush, a chill running down the nape of her neck, and she closed her eyes without realizing it.
“Mm….”
Hearing her ragged breaths, Rahan nibbled at her with that same intent.
By now, he had grown familiar with where she was weak. Slowly, but dizzyingly, Rahan teased her.
Moving shallowly and unhurriedly, he extended his tongue to gently lick the corner of Eryshi’s eye.
Only then did she realize tears had gathered at the edge of her lashes. Before Rahan could even ask, Eryshi shook her head.
“It doesn’t hurt….”
“But—”
“It feels good….”
Rahan faltered, then exhaled a deep breath. Everything Eryshi said was always endearing, but on the bed, that sweetness was magnified.
Her gestures, her gaze, even the smallest moan—everything was precious, and Rahan was helplessly swept away by them. Now was no different.
“Haa….”
“What is it?”
Eryshi’s worried look questioned his sigh. Rahan chuckled softly.
“Because I love you so much.”
There are those who, when faced with something unbearably adorable, respond destructively. Liet was such a person.
When Liet saw a cute animal, he always wanted to squeeze it tightly, bite it, or tease it.
Rahan had thought, What a strange taste, but perhaps he wasn’t so different himself.
Of course, even if he did act that way, Eryshi would accept it all—never pushing him away, never resenting him.
But precisely because of that, Rahan didn’t want to.
“You’re beautiful….”
“You say that every day.”
Eryshi smiled bashfully, pouting in embarrassment. Rahan knew well by now that when she was flustered, she became more aloof.
Not only that. Eryshi, who still hadn’t broken her habit of speaking formally, shortened her words only in bed.
It felt like proof that she was letting him a little closer—and that alone made Rahan happy.
In a voice trembling almost like a sob, he called out to her. That voice, as though he might die any second, paradoxically brimmed with desire.
“Mm…”
Rahan swallowed Eryshi’s gasping lips. And then suddenly, a thought crossed his mind.
Could we… have a child?
He had never imagined such a thing in his life.
But maybe…
Maybe, with Eryshi.
If such a thing came to pass—
I’ll make you the happiest person in the world.
When Rahan set out at the vanguard of the Expedition of Glory, he had been fourteen. By the time he reached the Religius Strait, he was fifteen.
It had taken exactly six months to march from the Grand Duchy to the Religius Strait.
The strait that cut between the Continent of Foldenbach and Til Neve Chedric.
Many lords had joined the expedition, led by Grand Duke Lacheise and blessed by Archbishop Victor.
The gathering place for all their armies was the Religius Strait. But it took a year and a half for all the lords to assemble there.
And even then, they couldn’t just cross to Til Neve Chedric.
The problem was ships. Finding vessels to carry twenty thousand soldiers was no easy task.
The other shore was the continent of unbelievers, not a place one could sail to like a trade port.
Nearby lords had no desire to lend their ships to an expedition from which they might never see them returned.
Only when Rahan personally went and threatened them—reminding them of their oaths to the Emperor and their baptism in the faith of Eridrahan—did they grudgingly part with a ship or two.
Repeating this over and over, the boy soon found himself sixteen. Yet even after two years wasted, ships were still scarce.
The Grand Duke had said, “I expect this expedition to take fifteen years, so it’s no matter.” But everyone grew restless.
Soldiers far from home grew lazy, or slipped away into the night to desert.
“Shouldn’t we just disband?”
The first to suggest it was the Lord of Arca, whose lands lay just before the Religius Strait.
He and Rahan never got along. No wonder—he was, after all, a man of Marquis Caracal, supporter of Prince Elio.
He had no reason to take part in an expedition begun by Grand Duke Lacheise to press his claim to the throne, but since Arca’s domain straddled the Strait, he had been inevitably dragged in.
In name, it was an expedition to spread the glory of Emperor Foldenbach to Til Neve Chedric. Since he had sworn loyalty to the Emperor, he had no choice but to comply.
“That’s nonsense! We’ve already wasted two years—”
“That’s why I say it. I’ve tied up fifty ships of my own for this expedition, but the other lords give little, and the venture shows no progress.”
Despite protests, Lord Arca sneered.
“This should have been started only after proper signatures from the lords. It’s not too late. We should all return, prepare charters afresh, and try again later.”
“And waste even more years.”
The one who opposed him was Rahan.
“I agree with Lord Arca that progress is slow. But if we scatter now, the lords will be even less willing to sign. Who would fund a failed expedition twice?”
“It is not failure, boy.”
Rahan ground his teeth. That was why Arca disliked him—not simply his allegiance to Caracal, but because he always dismissed Rahan for being young.
“How many times must I remind you it’s Sir Norwich? Have you lost your wits, Lord Arca?”
“Those scratched by youth are always eager to scratch others with it. But alas, you’re not yet old enough for that.”
“Lord Arca!”
Back then, Rahan was young, quick to anger.
“The Grand Duke sees this expedition lasting fifteen years! Two years is nothing! We are not short of coin, so why withdraw over time?”
Lord Arca only sighed at the boy.
“…I see why Grand Duke Lacheise sent you, Sir Norwich.”
“What do you mean?”
If not for others stepping in to stop them, as always, it might have come to blows.
Two years of debates had never yielded results, and that day was no different.
Normally, Rahan would have stormed back to his tent, cursing Arca before falling asleep.
But that day, for some reason, he wanted to press further.
“What did you mean just now?”
So he stopped Lord Arca as he left, asking. The lord looked down at him sternly, then exhaled.
“I’ve no mind to explain kindly to you, Sir Norwich.”
“…”
“But suddenly, I feel like talking to myself.”
What is he saying? Rahan stared blankly. With hands clasped behind his back, Arca walked on.
The field where the army camped had been desolate for two years under the weight of twenty thousand men.
How long had Rahan followed him through the dusty wind before Arca finally muttered, as if to himself—
“I dislike Grand Duke Lacheise, who sends off a fourteen-year-old boy while planning for fifteen years.”
“…”
“A fourteen-year-old boy won’t retreat because of time. But will that boy even live to see thirty?”
“That’s insulting! I will not die—”
“Ah, a dog barking while I talk to myself.”
Rahan fell silent. Arca smirked.
“An expedition led by a child is one that can fail without consequence. Especially if that child is without home or family, someone others would shun.”
There were so many things Rahan wanted to say.
At fourteen, he had already been the strongest among Lacheise’s knights.
The Grand Duke had seen his potential as a commander, had personally trained him in warfare. And until reaching the Religius Strait, he had never once lost a battle.
And Lacheise—she was family to him. He had never thought she would use him like that.
Yet to outsiders, it might indeed look that way.
“I wonder if the Grand Duke has ever thought about the time of the twenty thousand men wasted here these two years.”
“…”
“If my own ten-year-old son started demanding to be called Lord Arca among grown men, I’d give him a cuff, tell him to wash his feet, and send him to bed.”
One thing was clear: though Lord Arca always opposed him, he wasn’t a bad man.
He truly believed this expedition was a waste of time.
And somehow, Rahan was left speechless, as if struck.
A hundred counterarguments swirled in his head, but not one reached his lips.
When he trudged back to his tent that night—he found it there.
A gasping axolotl.
At first, he thought, What’s a pink lizard doing here?
Wounded somehow, it lay sprawled on his bed, half-dead. Black stains smeared the sheets and floor, and Rahan scowled.
Later he would learn—that black stain was its blood. It was a demon.
Had he realized sooner, he would never have let it live.
But strangely, Arca’s words from earlier still echoed in his ears.
“If my ten-year-old son tried to act like Lord Arca, I’d cuff him, tell him to wash his feet, and send him to bed.”
So Rahan picked up the little lizard, placing it inside his helmet. He even tossed in a leftover piece of bread from his tent.
The lizard lay still, wheezing, then flicked its tongue to gulp down the crumb. Good appetite, he thought, breaking the bread smaller until it was all gone.
Outside, as always, soldiers brawled over some triviality.
Two years of twenty thousand men packed together made such commotions commonplace.
Rahan, unfazed, dug out another dried piece of bread.
The lizard, regaining some strength, licked its lips and looked up at him.
It might survive.
Leaving the bread and creature in his helmet, Rahan drifted off to sleep.
[“Lo and behold, was it you who cared for this bodyyyy?”]
