Chapter 174

“Yes—unless there’s something urgent on your side,” Rezette said calmly.

There was nothing likely to disrupt their planned schedule.

The allied forces were effectively commanded by the Rotiara army, a corps Rezette himself had trained and refined for nearly a decade. They no longer required direct supervision; they understood their lord’s mind and carried out his will with practiced precision.

“When you march down there, what will you do with the army afterward?” Elise asked, watching him closely.

“I plan to drive the Ugel people into this ravine,” Rezette replied.

He slipped a thick velvet vest over Elise’s shoulders, the generous cut falling softly to wrap around her swollen belly and keep her warm.

“Since Riosa Castle stands above this gorge, we’ll force the Ugel troops into a full engagement at the valley’s edge before they can ascend that far.”

Even if the battle dragged on and pressed the Ugelians up to the castle gates, it hardly mattered. Whatever the Arganians inside chose to do was none of his concern; he was here to annihilate Ugel, not to play savior to Argan.

If I say all this too plainly, she’ll scold me, he thought.

Lifting her gently, Rezette returned Elise to the bed.

In recent months he had studied her moods, learning which words unsettled her and which brought light to her face. By now, he knew how to sidestep what should be avoided, deflecting just enough to spare her unease.

“If we remove the two Ugel princes—cut them down, rather, deal with them—everything afterward will be simpler. Once their capital falls…”

“Their capital?” Elise interrupted, eyes widening.

“Yes.”

“The royal city? You mean to strike there?”

She stared at him, startled.

Rezette pondered how best to hold her without straining her stomach. At last he drew one knee up and settled her carefully between his legs.

Drawn close, she asked in disbelief, “The Ugel capital is Pahan. It’s in the middle of the wastelands, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Not difficult, but admittedly tedious. The central plains are vast, and the distance alone devours time,” explained Rezette. “So I’ve already arranged encirclement lines across the wilderness. Even so, once the fighting here is done, advancing on their capital will take time. A month at best. Perhaps half again as long if delays occur. It’s a long march, no denying that.”

Elise stared at him, stunned into silence. Rezette glanced sideways, reading her expression, and tilted his head slightly.

“Shall I shorten it?”

“What…?”

“If I aim only for the king, I could cut the time by a week or so. I’d go alone.”

“Alone?” she echoed faintly.

“For a single head, mine is enough. Of course, toppling their capital requires time and manpower, but that’s something Ruben can manage.”

She could not follow the ease with which he spoke of futures that to her sounded impossible.

War was not a casual stroll. And Rezette was not a man to boast idly—every word rang true.

“If any attempt to flee,” he continued calmly, “I’ll hunt them down. Years, if need be. Until not a single root remains. After that, the name Ugel will vanish from every map. Your borders will never be threatened again.”

And without the long detour around the wastelands, the route from Rotiara to Argan would be halved—a prospect Rezette found… satisfying.

But Elise reached up quickly, pressing her fingers against his lips before he could continue.

“Wait. Just—wait, Rezette. There’s something I need to ask.”

“Yes?”

“How in the world did you assemble an alliance army of this size from Van Yela?”

“Ah. Van Yela.” He said it as if recalling a trivial errand.

“His Majesty’s been… unwell,” Rezette replied evenly. “So I convened the council on his behalf.”

“…You didn’t make him unwell, did you?”

“The cause is irrelevant. The result is the same.”

“That’s not something you say with a straight face! Don’t tell me—you didn’t kill the Emperor, did you? And the knights of Van Yela just stood by and let it happen?”

“And if they didn’t stand by? What could they have done?”

“Well… that’s true, but still—betraying the Imperial House? What about your reputation—”

“My reputation has never been good,” Rezette said flatly. “Even when Van Yela’s coffers swelled under my campaigns, I was still only a baseborn dragon-blood to them.”

Elise was silent.

“Since I was grown, I’ve never placed much stock in the opinions of others. So long as I appear human in your eyes, that is enough.”

The answers flowed from him effortlessly—until he noticed the strange look on her face. It wasn’t a smile. It wasn’t tears. Something in between, fragile and aching.

Then it struck him: Norella. The way she had begged him not to commit treason, how her voice had broken at the thought of him losing Rotiara to the Emperor. She’d always feared these matters.

He tried, clumsily, to steer the conversation back.

“So… abandoning Noyer Erdelich wasn’t entirely because of you, Elise. I’ve been displeased with the Emperor for some time. His words, his conduct… I had already resolved to give him a warning.”

Especially after the countless times the man had treated Elise like breeding stock—right to his face.

Thinking of it now, Rezette felt a flicker of regret. He should have shoved more power down the man’s throat before leaving. But he’d been in a rush.

Elise exhaled a silent groan.

Gods. Now I see why Grandel calls him a fiend, not a hero…

She had thought half those ghastly rumors were exaggerations. The Rezette she knew—aside from his occasional controlling streak—was composed, even gentle.

But here was a man who could erase a kingdom from existence if he so wished.

Then again… considering he chased me as far as Norella…

An enemy would have no choice but to fear him. An ally could never truly rest easy. A man whose very presence could rouse half a continent to crush the other half.

For the first time, Elise truly grasped what it meant that he had doubled Van Yela’s territory in a decade. And why he had always looked so baffled whenever she fretted over him.

Even so—slipping into Ugel’s capital alone to cut down its king? Was he mad? She refused to become the kind of wife who sent her husband to certain death.

But the man spinning these perilous schemes looked perfectly calm.

“I have so much I want to give you,” he murmured. “I keep wondering what I must lay at your feet for you to truly see me. I’m still thinking…”

His tone was soft, almost obedient—but his shamelessness had grown bolder of late.

In truth, his thoughts weren’t complicated. Why choose? He would bring her everything. Everything except—perhaps—the cherries that didn’t grow this season.

Earliest in spring, he mused, conjuring an image of Grandel’s southern slopes in his mind.

Then Elise touched his cheek. Her lips brushed his—light as a sigh.

Every ruthless plan in Rezette’s head froze mid-flight.

Where he always kissed her with hunger, she kissed with care—measured, deliberate, a fragile warmth that unraveled him more than any frenzy could. Eyes half-closed, she caressed his mouth with slow devotion, whispering against his lips:

“You don’t have to go that far. My eyes are already fixed on you.”

“…Only on me?” His voice was husky, uncertain.

“Yes. So forget about rushing the schedule. You’re not immortal, Rezette. And Argan should reclaim itself. We need to give them that chance.”

Rezette’s tongue traced his lower lip instinctively, chasing the ghost of her kiss. It left him aching.

He swallowed hard before asking, “Then what do you want me to do?”

“I’ll send a pigeon to Riosa,” she said. “Once the alliance surrounds Ugel’s army, the castle can strike from above. A pincer from both sides—sound good?”

Above and below. If they trapped Ugel between hammer and anvil, the blow would be crushing. Rezette had no objection.

“That works.”

Truthfully, she could have suggested something absurd, and he would still carve victory into this field by any means.

Elise smiled brightly and nodded.

“Then hurry, before Barnon arrives. Send the pigeon, Rezette.”

“…Pigeon?”

“Don’t play innocent. The white one you’ve been hiding. I know about it. Let it go back to the castle.”

Last night, half-asleep, she had heard the frantic flutter of wings outside the tent.

Rezette sighed inwardly. So she had noticed. He had meant to sever every line to the outside—but he relented. For her.

“Sometimes,” she murmured, looping her arms around his neck and resting her cheek there, “I can’t tell if you’re the same as before… or not at all.”

“What do you mean?”

“I suppose I should be grateful you’re trying.”

Rezette didn’t answer. Elise closed her eyes against his shoulder, thinking:

Fiend or not—so long as he’s human for me, that’s enough.

The thought of leaving this embrace again left her hollow inside.

By dawn the next day, the unwelcome guest set foot in Argan’s camp.

But truth be told, the real intruder… was him.