Chapter 11
“Probably because it’s the north, the air is really cold.”
Freya, who was born and raised in the south, was experiencing such biting winds for the first time in her life.
Night fell quickly, and people disappeared one by one into their quarters.
‘Is there a place set aside for people doing odd jobs like me?’
But it was already far too late to go looking.
Freya glanced around hurriedly. Anyone whose eyes met hers quickly scurried off to their assigned shelter.
‘If I sleep outside, I might actually die.’
She looked up at the sky with eyes full of despair; the sky here felt especially dark and oppressively low.
The stars sparkled so close it seemed she could grab them if she reached out.
While following a particularly bright star that trailed a long tail as it fell, she spotted a familiar face.
“Ah, it’s that man!”
The man lying stretched out in front of his tent was none other than her savior—the only person she knew in this place.
“Mm…
…But Freya shut her mouth the moment she started to speak.
I can’t become an even bigger burden to him.
So instead, she quietly approached his tent and settled down nearby.
“At least this feels safe.”
Of all the people she had met, he was by far the strangest, yet at the same time he gave her a sense of trust.
There was even a ready-made pillow.
A neat pile of firewood was stacked beside the tent, so Freya gently rested her head against it.
Feeling the cold ground beneath her, sad thoughts crept in, and she deliberately spoke in a cheerful tone.
It’s fine. There’s not much difference between here and the orphanage.
…She tried to fight off sleep, but the day’s exhaustion was winning. Just as her eyes were slowly closing, the sound of footsteps suddenly jolted her awake.
“A face I haven’t seen before. Aren’t you cold out here? How about we go into my tent and play a fun game?”
A stumbling, clearly drunk man noticed Freya as he passed by and tried to flirt with her.
“I’m fine.”
“Oh, even your voice is cute!”
Freya quickly rummaged through her pockets, but her scissors were gone.
‘Where did they go?’
Even if she had them, she wasn’t brave enough to use them, but just having them would have given her some peace of mind.
‘I’m in big trouble now.’
She had fled from Shiloh only to end up in this situation; Freya felt utterly helpless.
“Come here!”
The man lunged as if to embrace her, so Freya covered her face with both hands. But nothing happened.
‘What’s going on?’
Peeking through her fingers, she saw the drunk who had threatened her rolling on the ground.
Her astonished eyes met those of the person who had saved her.
‘It’s him.’
“Anton, get out of here right now.”
“Damn it! You again, Archer.”
The drunk man fled the moment Archer, the tent’s owner, appeared. Once the commotion ended, Archer let out a casual cough.
It hadn’t even been half a day since they parted, yet this unexpected reunion left both of them exchanging awkward glances.
Archer scratched his head and spoke first.
“What are you doing here?”
Freya, still shaken from the drunk incident, hesitated for a moment.
“Did you take my scissors?”
Those were the only words she could manage while trembling like a willow tree. The man opened his mouth in surprise, then gestured toward the tent entrance.
“Ah, those? I kept them. Come inside.”
The tent wasn’t spacious, but it was far better than outside. Warmth gently tickled Freya’s cold cheeks.
Archer stoked the fire in the small brazier in the center while muttering.
“How did you end up right next to my tent?”
“Well, um…
…Archer stood at the tent entrance and motioned for the bewildered Freya to come closer.
“Warm yourself up first. You look pitiful.”
Freya quickly sat near the brazier and began warming her hands.
Silence lingered between them for a while, broken only by the crackling of burning wood. Then Archer spoke.
“If you have nowhere to go…
…He had never married or raised children.
Because of his harsh life on battlefields, he didn’t know how to speak gently. Freya hesitated at Archer’s rough words, then opened her mouth.
“Yes.”
She didn’t want anyone’s pity. But at this moment, she was desperate enough to cling to anything.
“So… may I stay here for a while?”
Her voice shook as she asked. Archer looked at Freya, trembling like a willow, and answered in a dry tone.
“Since I’m the one who brought you here, I’m partly responsible.”
He had brought her here so she could work and earn her keep. But in her current state, she would be in danger if she wandered around.
In a battlefield where women were rare, some men would even approach young boys.
‘Whether girl or boy, small children are in danger here.’
The thought left a bitter taste in Archer’s mouth.
“For now, stay here and we’ll figure something out.”
“Thank you.”
“Hmm…
…Awkward silence fell again, and Archer kept clearing his throat unnecessarily. He didn’t know what to say in situations like this.
“Sleep now. Otherwise you won’t grow taller.”
Archer lay down on his simple bedding and tossed her a small blanket.
Freya settled near the brazier, spread the blanket over herself, and for the first time in her life felt the same comfort in sleep as she had yesterday and today.
‘Luz, Lottie…
…She silently repeated the names of those dear to her heart, then drifted off.
* * *
Thanks to Archer giving her a corner of his tent, Freya was able to escape the biting northern winds.
She was clever enough to adapt quickly to life here.
She earned a bit of money doing odd jobs for other soldiers and, in her spare time, looked after Archer.
‘Didn’t he say she was his cousin’s daughter?’
At first, some teased the newcomer Freya, but thanks to Archer, such incidents gradually decreased. In the meantime, more than half a year had passed since she left the capital.
“Freya, bring something to wipe with!”
“Coming!”
Archer returned from battle with his face covered in blood. Normally Freya didn’t feel like she was living near a battlefield, but whenever she saw Archer’s blood-smeared face or wounded soldiers, she was reminded that this was a war zone.
‘Somewhere out there, people are dying.’
Freya brought a cloth, and Archer began roughly wiping his eyes.
“This damn war.”
She handed him a cup of liquor; he downed it in one gulp, then placed the empty cup on his head. Archer let out a long breath and said he finally felt alive again.
“Freya, if you knew what’s going on out there, you’d be shocked.”
“What, did a one-eyed monster that eats children show up?”
Freya replied indifferently while cleaning a dagger in the corner.
She deliberately avoided caring about what happened outside. All that mattered to her was waking up in the morning and not going hungry.
She poured all her energy into saving money.
“How can a sixteen-year-old girl be this simple?”
Archer grumbled and threw the blood-soaked cloth at her.
“Prince Lucius has returned from his distant campaign.”
Unmistakable excitement filled Archer’s voice.
Freya stopped cleaning and muttered. Even she, who knew little about the outside world, had heard that name.
“Ah, the mad crown prince?”
Archer jumped in surprise at her words, glanced around the tent, then put a finger to his lips.
“Shhh, do you have a spare neck?”
It seemed even this fearless-looking man had something he feared.
‘Is that respect?’
Freya continued polishing boots while listening to Archer praise Prince Lucius.
He said the prince had incredible drive and outstanding leadership, and was masterful with a sword. But not all the stories were positive; while running errands, she had heard plenty of rumors.
“…They say Prince Lucius’s eyes are filled with bloodthirsty madness, and anyone who meets them freezes in terror.”
Freya, however, wasn’t interested in whether those rumors were true. What connection did she have with the crown prince?
“But why are you fighting in this war, Archer?”
If his goal was simply money, there were other battlefields.
This was the northern border of Morsiani—cold, with scarce resources.
Why come to such a harsh place and spill his blood? Freya wondered whether Archer, the heavy drinker, secretly harbored some hidden patriotism.
“How should I explain this?”
Archer hesitated, searching for the right words.
At that moment, a loud trumpet blast sounded, and the gathered soldiers suddenly parted to both sides, clearing a path.
Archer nervously straightened his clothes.
“Good heavens, it looks like Prince Lucius.”
Freya inwardly laughed at Archer’s exaggerated behavior.
What difference would fixing his hair make when he was filthy all over?
Still, it was strange—right after talking about Prince Lucius, she was getting the chance to see him.
‘I never thought I’d see a member of the royal family…
…Because of Archer, Freya felt nervous too.
“Blond hair…
…The black armor he wore clashed completely with his shining blond hair under the sunlight.
Crimson blood adorned his head like cherry blossoms.
“What the—why is he so huge…?”
Lucius Morsiani was extraordinarily tall, his shoulders broader than Archer’s.
The dark, murderous aura radiating from him made one’s body shrink even from a distance.
Freya realized the strange rumors hadn’t been much exaggerated after all.
