Chapter 022. Let’s Go, to the Land of Anata! (3)

“!”

Rosalyn inhaled sharply at how suddenly he had closed the distance.

She had disliked how he kept coming too close out of nowhere ever since the last time. Even though she had clearly warned him, the same situation kept repeating.

“Don’t come any closer.”

This time, her warning wasn’t just words. She pushed against Sionne’s chest.

“Ugh!”

It wasn’t a particularly strong push. Yet the man doubled over, wrapping his hand over the spot she had touched, as if he were in severe pain.

“What are you doing? Don’t pretend—”

Rosalyn’s cold remark was cut short.

Through the gap in his collar as he bent forward, she caught a glimpse of a sickly blue mark.

Rosalyn grabbed Sionne’s shoulder and held him still. Then she pulled down the fabric at his shoulder.

Rip. His white shirt came off roughly under her hand, almost tearing.

“Your Grace.”

Sionne belatedly grabbed her hand, but Rosalyn didn’t even think to shake him off.

“Who did this to you?”

She demanded in a low, pressing voice.

Rosalyn scanned his torso, which was a mess of bruises. Most were red or purple—clearly recent.

‘I thought he collapsed from exhaustion, but it wasn’t just that.’

Anger began to rise within her, and she bit the inside of her mouth.

“Don’t make me ask again. Who was it?”

Rosalyn knew. If she had any conscience, now was not the time to feel guilty.

She had deliberately made him walk with a barely recovered body. She knew he was struggling at the very back of the group and ignored it.

She hadn’t made any effort to provide better food or sleeping arrangements either. He had probably been sharing with the servants.

“Sionne Feitan.”

“It’s nothing.”

But seeing Sionne calmly pull his shirt back into place made her want to scream.

Some twisted mix of anger and guilt pounded unpleasantly against her chest.

It wasn’t even that big a deal, but her emotions were all over the place. One moment she wanted to scream in rage, the next she felt choked by guilt and couldn’t breathe.

‘I was fine for a while, but here we go again.’

Rosalyn clenched her fists and took a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

But the impulse didn’t settle. Suddenly, she began hitting her own thigh.

Thud, thud. The sound of her blows was violent.

“What are you doing!”

Sionne widened his eyes and grabbed her fist. It wasn’t just light slapping—she was hitting herself with full force, and it was alarming.

“Have you been managing your emotions like this all this time? You’d be better off relying on valerian!”

Sionne snapped at her. It was more sarcasm than concern.

“Let go.”

Rosalyn shook off his hand, but it didn’t fall away easily.

With the added weight of a man’s arm, her own hand swung much slower.

“Haa…”

Rosalyn stopped flailing and exhaled deeply. Repeating such ridiculous behavior, she suddenly wondered what on earth she was doing.

“So tell me. Before I do something even more irrational.”

She pressed him in a low, dark voice.

“Who dared lay a hand on what’s mine?”

“…Am I yours, Your Grace?”

Sionne asked the question slowly, as if moved by emotion—but in truth, he felt nothing at all.

The woman in front of him likely didn’t truly care about him either. What really upset her was probably that someone had challenged her authority.

And to him, being her so-called possession was nothing touching or meaningful.

It was just another grim, pathetic reality.

“If you don’t belong to me, then whose are you? Don’t change the subject.”

Sionne had originally planned never to answer. He intended to play the part of a pitiful, kind-hearted consort and fish for some sympathy.

Women were often surprisingly susceptible to emotional appeals.

“Aaron Vanil.”

But in the end, he gave the knight’s name out of pure spite.

It annoyed him how she acted like she’d actually do something for him.

Even among those who belonged to the same house, not everyone was equal. There was no way the weight of a discarded lover could compare to that of a competent knight.

“Aaron Vanil… Just wait.”

But unexpectedly, the woman sprang into action immediately. She got out of the carriage and called Jacob.

“Jacob Moore, bring Aaron Vanil before me right now.”

The Anata party halted their march and gathered in a nearby field. No one was excused from Rosalyn’s order.

Ah, except Sionne Feitan. Rosalyn didn’t let him leave the carriage.

And so, at the center of the group, judgment began.

“Aaron Vanil, confess what you did to Sionne Feitan.”

“…”

Aaron lowered his head to avoid Rosalyn’s gaze.

“If you won’t speak, then I’ll testify myself. You made sure to bruise only the spots that wouldn’t be seen. Are you going to deny that?”

Rosalyn’s voice was low as she questioned the kneeling Aaron.

“By imperial law, this qualifies as assault and battery. Under military law, it can be deemed as abuse.”

Since Anata’s legal code had not yet been established, she named the charges according to Hernia’s law.

“Why did you do it?”

“…”

Aaron remained silent to the end. He couldn’t bring himself to utter the words that filthy Feitan had said, even to defend himself.

To bring it up in front of so many people would be a disgrace to his lord.

More than anything, what stopped him was the pain it would cause her.

Unlike others, his feelings were genuine—so he could only keep his mouth shut.

Just as the cunning Sionne Feitan had predicted.

“If you can’t explain yourself, we’ll have to go by the law. Sir Moore, what is the punishment for abuse under military law?”

“Court-martial, and immediate dismissal from post,” Jacob answered with a bitter face.

“And?”

“Typically… it carries a penalty equivalent to imprisonment.”

Murmurs began to spread among those gathered near Jacob.

“But, Your Grace! That applies only when the abuse is committed against an ally!”

Gardner, one of the leaders of the conquest unit, interjected. After hesitating, he pointed out something that seemed off.

“…Sionne Feitan isn’t exactly one of us, is he?”

Rosalyn understood what Gardner was implying. It was clear everyone here probably shared his concern.

‘They must think I’m defending a former enemy more than those who shared life and death with me.’

Sensing the mood, Rosalyn replied coldly.

“For Aaron Vanil, it would have been better if Sionne Feitan were considered an ally.”

“?”

“Better than having his head cut off for damaging my spoil of war.”

The buzzing atmosphere instantly turned icy at her words.

“Do you think I’m angry just because Sionne Feitan was beaten?”

Rosalyn glared at the knights of the conquest unit.

“No.”

She glanced at the carriage where Sionne sat, then looked away.

“I’m holding him accountable for daring to challenge me.”

“…”

“My consort was struck by one of my knights. And despite the number of eyes who must’ve seen it, no one reported it to me.”

Her words silenced the entire company.

“I’m sure the Imperial Gazette would love a headline like this—‘Anata fractures from within, on the verge of collapse.’”

The knights swallowed dryly. They were beginning to realize how serious the situation was.

“The moment I became your commander, your discipline began to unravel. How exactly am I supposed to interpret that?”

Rosalyn sneered sharply at the knights who stood with heads bowed.

“What? Think it’s okay to slack off just because we’ve been together a while?”

“No, Your Grace!”

Belatedly, shouts of discipline rang out. Clicking her tongue, Rosalyn now turned to Jacob.

“Jacob Moore, just what kind of supervision are you giving your subordinates?”

“I’m sorry. This is my responsibility.”

Jacob, soon to be appointed as the captain of the Anata knights, bowed in apology.

He hadn’t known Aaron had done such things behind his back. Still, it was his fault for failing to control his men.

“And Gardner Holmes, did you just say Sionne Feitan isn’t one of us?”

Rosalyn’s attention now turned to Gardner.

“Then let me ask you: is Sionne Feitan the enemy?”

“…No, he is not.”

“You must think you’re still on the battlefield, but the war is over. I didn’t bring you along to reminisce about it.”

Rosalyn looked around at the silent company.

“If there’s anyone here who still clings to that mindset, I won’t stop you—go back.”