["To My Beloved Wife,
How are you?
You haven't forgotten to eat on time, have some healthy snacks, stretch your muscles a bit, and pay attention to our little one, right?
Wife, I miss you.
I'm sorry that I could only send you this letter today.
The situation is completely out of my control.
Honestly, I also want to come home soon.
I want to finish all these sudden tasks and return to your side.
I miss you more and more.
And thinking about the presence of our little one inside you only strengthens my longing to come home as soon as possible.
I don't know exactly when I'll be able to return.
What's clear is that His Majesty the King has issued an official decree, forbidding me from leaving the barracks until the Ruran Kingdom makes an official statement.
Please be patient, my dear wife.
I love you.
Escar Aschenford."]
~•••~
"…."
A month had passed since Escar's sudden departure that day.
And … look at this.
He had only just written to Shirley today.
The young mother, now five months pregnant, rested her chin on her hand casually.
She was bored.
What could she do today to make time pass faster?
Time felt slower for her since nothing seemed particularly interesting to do.
Managing the household finances as a Marchioness?
Villicia had forbidden her from doing that.
Strange, considering it was the head maid herself who had previously suggested she assist Escar, even if just a little.
So, why was it off-limits now?
"Hm … bored."
Ugh, seriously.
What should she do?
"…!"
Shirley suddenly glanced back at the letter she had just read.
Speaking of letters, it had been a while since she wrote one herself.
Should she do it now?
Maybe it would be a refreshing way to spend her time.
"Ginger! Bring me a pen and paper!"
"Yes, Madam."
~•••~
["To my husband over there,
So you're still alive, huh?
I never thought you'd actually write to me.
I even doubted from the start whether you remembered me at all.
You're not so weak that you'd get hurt, much less near death over there … right?
If you were, I'd be disappointed.
How could the man I married be that frail!
About the little one, huh?
They're very active.
Just like their father—whoever that might be—they annoy me in the strangest ways.
Yes.
They're giving me lots of attention.
Their punches and kicks from inside my belly make me so … arghh!
Anyway, that's how it is.
Shirley Aschenford."]
BLUSH!
"…!"
Bright red spread across Escar's face, already dirty from splattered mud and streaks of blood.
Ignoring the other knights silently watching him as they sat around the campfire, Escar couldn't suppress a smile.
Reading each word his wife had written, in her harsh tone laced with sarcasm, Escar felt his ears burning.
Rather than feeling annoyed, he was overjoyed.
At least his wife had responded to the letter he'd sent so late.
What's more, ….
"…."
… His emerald eyes, reflecting the orange glow of the fire, sparkled even brighter.
Like stars, they shone as he focused on one specific line.
The name, "Shirley Aschenford".
BLUSH!
"…!"
Drawing the attention of the knights, whose eyes now widened perfectly, Escar's reddening face deepened in hue.
Just that simple act—his wife placing the family name after her own—was enough to make the Marquess blush.
SRK!
Carefully, he folded the precious letter.
His intention was to carry it with him everywhere while he was here.
Then, once he returned home, Escar planned … to place it in his most treasured box.
A treasure chest meant for collecting all the valuable gifts from the people he cherished most.
"…."
"…."
Having finished basking in his own world, a sudden shiver ran down Escar's spine, making his hairs stand on end.
All the knights were staring at him silently, their gazes intense.
Including Sir Morgan, whose wide grin revealed all his teeth, and Sir Bashilian, who wore a sheepish smile.
"…?!"
Ah ….
BLUSH!
… Once again, Escar's face turned beet red.
But this time, … it wasn't because of Shirley.
~•••~
["To Marquess Aschenford, Escar
Hey, my friend.
How have you been?
I was shocked when I heard the news that your barracks were attacked by those barbarians! And when I learned that you rushed there immediately, I was even more astonished.
You always act so swiftly! I must admit that.
Who else could accomplish such incredible feats, if not you?
By the way, the reason I reached out to you is not just to check on you but also to share some other news.
I will be getting married tomorrow.
I'm marrying Princess Cherin, whom I will protect for the rest of my life.
I have dedicated my soul to her.
She … I want her to be my true soulmate.
Don't worry.
Don't feel too guilty if you can't attend my wedding.
Remember! You can congratulate me anytime.
For now, focus on keeping yourself safe there.
I look forward to your safe return, my dear friend, Escar.
Lewin Esclat."]
Time passed swiftly.
A week after receiving a letter from Shirley, Escar received another one, this time from his close friend, Duke Esclat.
A mix of joy and sadness filled the heart of the silver-haired Marquess.
Joy because Lewin took the time to share such wonderful news with him.
Sadness because he couldn't be there beside his friend, helping him prepare and giving him confidence, just as Duke Esclat had done for Escar at his own wedding.
"…."
Under the clear skies, at the beginning of a warm summer, Escar lowered his head and closed his eyes.
Both hands—one still holding the letter sealed with the emblem of an icy shard—were clasped together in front of his chest.
Yes.
Escar began to pray.
May the conflict in this border region … soon come to an end.
But ….
Reality often surpasses expectations.
Hoping is permissible, but one should not hope excessively.
When those hopes are dashed, it inevitably leads to despair.
Four months passed in a blur, leaving Escar increasingly despondent as he carried out his duties at the barracks.
Ah, he missed Shirley.
He missed the little baby.
Surely, her pregnancy was in its ninth month by now?
He also missed his blunt but loyal friend.
When will all of this end?
NEEEEIGH!
"…!"
The sharp whinny of a horse broke Escar's reverie.
It wasn't just the sound that caught his attention, but also the sight of a horse ridden by someone in the king's elite knight uniform, drawing the notice of the other knights, especially Sir Morgan and Sir Bashilian.
"Attention!"
THUD!
The royal envoy swiftly and skillfully dismounted his horse.
With precise and practiced steps, the knight stopped directly in front of Escar.
SWOOSH!
With authority, he unfurled a scroll bearing the royal seal—twin lions facing each other, embracing a star—and presented it to the Marquess.
Using his commanding voice, the knight delivered the decree.
["To the honorable Marquess Aschenford.
At last, the day we have been waiting for has arrived!
The Kingdom of Ruran has officially expressed its apologies and regret for their uncivilized actions.
As reparations and a gesture of their remorse, the King of Ruran has ceded ten meters of their land near your fortress to us.
Congratulations! Your fortress will be expanded.
You have made me proud by forcing that foolish king to bow down and surrender, abandoning his attempts to breach the fortress you defended so valiantly.
As a reward for your efforts, I have a gift for you.
Yes.
You may now return home.
Michael Soultherns."]
"With that, I take my leave."
"…!"
The face that was once clouded and weary now shone with joy.
"Home," the word he had longed to hear.
Simple, yet it brought him immense happiness.
RUSTLE! RUSTLE!
Like a child, Escar began tugging at Sir Bashilian's sleeve.
"Understood. I'll pack your belongings immediately."
Indeed, Sir Bashilian understood the Marquess' intent without needing written instructions as an intermediary.
"Farewell, everyone," Bashilian said as they prepared to leave.
Bidding farewell to the commander and the other knights, … Escar, Bashilian, and the knights who accompanied them from the estate bowed their heads in salute from atop their horses.
"May health and happiness always bless you."
And with that, their long-awaited journey home began.
"Giddy up!"
The horses galloped swiftly, matching the speed they had used when departing for the barracks eight months ago.
Of course, the fastest among them was the Marquess himself.
His pace left a notable gap between him and Sir Bashilian, not to mention the other knights who trailed far behind.
NEEEEIGH!
The loud whinny of his horse rearing as Escar pulled on the reins to stop echoed before the gates of Aschenford Manor.
Impatient, unable to contain his excitement, Escar leapt from the saddle and dashed toward the warmth of his home.
The home he had long awaited.
The home that ….
"…."
Wait. What was this?
What kind of reception … was this chaotic and bustling scene?
"Fresh water! We need fresh water!"
"We need more cloths in there!"
"Where are the towels?!"
"Hey, you lot! Stop standing around and lend a hand!"
Both men and women, the manor's staff were rushing back and forth in a frenzy.
What on earth was happening here?
"Oh?"
Even Sir Bashilian appeared perplexed, mumbling in confusion as he arrived at Escar's side.
Then, catching sight of a familiar pink-haired figure amid the commotion, Sir Bashilian called out.
"Miss Villicia!"
"…!"
Thanks to his loud voice, the person he addressed quickly turned her head.
"My goodness!"
Surprise was Villicia's first reaction.
But soon, her shock gave way to extreme urgency.
"Milord!"
Carrying a basket of dry cloths, Villicia hurried over to Escar.
Apologies to Sir Bashilian, but this time, Villicia's focus was entirely on the affairs of Aschenford Manor.
"This way, quickly!"
She grabbed the still-confused Marquess by the hand, guiding him through the chaos.
"Follow me! It's an emergency!"
Only after Villicia continued did Escar finally understand the situation.
"My Lady is about to give birth!"
And with that, he was struck with a mix of understanding and overwhelming shock.