IRER 59

Chapter 59

 The Potato Field Village

Brody had been too restless to sleep properly through the night.

The whirring, circling wind had kept sounding like Kalihiel’s cries to her ears.

Thump.

And that was why now, inside the carriage, dark shadows clung beneath her eyes.

Aidan must have fared no better. Whenever she stirred and cracked her eyes open, not once did she recall seeing him asleep.

He must not have gotten any proper rest either.

Yet there he was, riding his horse with perfect posture, his face composed and untroubled.

Why! We’re both human, so why is he so perfectly fine?!

That unfairness made her even more irritated.

Strictly speaking, though, Aidan wasn’t exactly fine. He just didn’t show the fatigue. The deep vertical line etched into his brow betrayed the pounding headaches that surely assaulted him again.

The other night had been different—because they had kissed, his pain had subsided. But last night they hadn’t, and right on cue, the migraines had returned.

She regretted not having brewed tea for him in the morning, but departure had been too hectic.

I’ll just make him some medicine once we arrive.

With that thought, Brody sighed.

Aidan never wanted her to overwork herself. He insisted that if she proved her usefulness to River, she’d never be able to escape in three years’ time.

Brody had argued back, saying, “Now’s not the time to worry about three years from now. If we want to stand against the Empire, we need strength first.”

He seemed to concede at the time, but judging by his behavior yesterday, she suspected they’d keep butting heads.

She couldn’t tell what went on in his mind. It felt as if a solid wall stood between them.

Had he simply gone back to being the old Grand Duke of Icewall?

When she tried to run away, he dragged her back. Now that she was finally trying to work in the North, he was the one stopping her.

He didn’t seem to dislike her—but neither did he seem interested in truly getting closer.

At times he respected her opinion, but on other matters he was shockingly absolute.

Right… in the end, it’s because ours is a contract where I’m the lesser party.

Brody shook her head briskly.

So what? All she had to do was uphold the terms of the contract.

*I’ll just do my part well. No—I must do my part well.

While she sank into these thoughts, the carriage rolled steadily on.

Fortunately, the snow had stopped, making the journey easier.

When the carriage slowed and voices rose outside, Brody knew they were close to their destination.

Curious, she opened the window a crack and peeked outside.

In the distance stretched a sight at once familiar yet foreign.

Familiar, because it was the landscape she had tilled herself during her time here—fields, hills, and forests. The snow was just a new seasoning over it all.

But foreign—because the military encampment was gone. Torn down when the army had marched south. In its place stood a handful of stone-and-wood houses.

A wooden palisade ringed the settlement, enclosing potato fields and homes. There was even a proper gate with guards, and watchtowers in the distance.

Small, but complete with a moat—an early motte-and-bailey fortification.

In other words, a true little village had sprung up.

The wind caught Brody’s pale, wheat-colored hair, scattering it around her face as she leaned from the window.

The gate guards recognized the Grand Duke’s party at once and hurried to open the gates.

“My lady! Good heavens, my lady!”

The village was small enough that everyone knew immediately who had arrived.

A woman came running across the snow, leaving deep prints as she hurried forward.

It was Connie—the stout, practical middle-aged woman Brody remembered.

She clasped Brody’s hand before Aidan could even offer his own escort.

Brody, startled by the intensity of the greeting, stepped down from the carriage with a bewildered expression. Connie shook her hand eagerly.

“I can’t tell you how worried we were! To hear that you’d vanished after accomplishing such a feat—we thought perhaps the Empire was after you, that something terrible might have happened!”

“…Thank you, Connie. Thanks to you, I made it back safely.”

“Oh my! You even remembered my name. I’m honored!”

“Of course I remember.”

Connie’s face glowed more brightly than before. Her skin had browned under the sun, her once-soft hands were calloused. But she looked healthy, brimming with vitality.

“Oh, my lady, you look so exhausted.”

“D-Do I?”

The sleepless night must be showing. After their forced march from the south, she surely looked worn out.

There had been no mirrors around, and she’d stopped caring about her appearance—almost forgotten it entirely.

I must look dreadful, she thought, rubbing under her eyes where dark circles surely lurked.

Connie hurried her along.

“Let me take you to your lodgings. Wash up? Eat? Sleep? What would you like first?”

“I’d love to wash and lie down. But… lodgings?”

“Yes! We thought noble guests might pass through, so we prepared separate quarters.”

“You managed all that in such a short time?”

“It’s all thanks to you, my lady.”

“…Why me?”

Was it flattery, now that she was the Grand Duchess? But no—Connie looked genuinely joyous, even proud.

Half-dragging her with excitement, Connie led her toward the guest quarters.

“Wait. I’ll join you.”

Aidan stopped them. He was busy greeting the soldiers—now residents—who reported to him.

So Brody and Connie stepped aside to wait, continuing their conversation.

“It’s because you gifted us the potato fields, my lady,” Connie explained warmly, pressing a hand to her chest.

“All I did was give you potatoes. You were the ones who cultivated them.”

Brody laughed awkwardly, embarrassed.

But Connie shook her head firmly.

“When we were prisoners, the future was pitch black. Death seemed kinder, but we lacked the courage. All we could do was shiver in those dark barracks, staring into the void.”

Brody nodded. She too remembered the suffocating despair of that camp.

Connie’s eyes deepened with memory.

“We weren’t noble enough to be valuable hostages, nor simple peasants. Ladies-in-waiting and servants—stuck in between.”

She lowered her voice conspiratorially, covering her mouth with her hand.

“When we heard the stories about the Grand Duke of Icewall, we thought, ‘Well, that’s it. We’ll die, and not pleasantly.’”

Brody chuckled despite herself.

Rumors had flown among the captives—how the Grand Duke tortured women to death, one each day. His reputation in the southern regions had been monstrous.

In truth, she now suspected it was Imperial slander to isolate the North.

The truth was, his stern expression came from constant headaches. In action, he was knightly—more monk than tyrant.

He won’t touch women, nor drink, nor gamble—no pleasures at all.

A man straight and true, without ambition. Why the Empire hated the North enough to smear it so viciously was a mystery.

As Brody’s gaze drifted unconsciously toward Aidan, Connie suddenly addressed him.

“Your Grace, may we take the lady to see the potato fields? We’ll stay in plain sight.”

Both Brody and Aidan blinked in surprise. They hadn’t expected Connie to address him so directly—or ask anything of him.

Something about her demeanor had changed since before.

After scanning the area, Aidan gave a small nod. The fields were clearly visible from where he stood.

“Thank you. My lady, shall we?”

Brody took Connie’s hand and followed.

Snow blanketed the roofs and walls, but the paths were already neatly cleared. The place bustled with diligence.

Soon they reached the familiar fields.

Though fallow for winter, the land was more orderly than when she had left.

“As you suggested, we divided and arranged the plots. We’re planning crop rotation too, to restore the soil. And that building there—that’s a storage house. These potatoes keep so well it feels like a miracle each time.”

Connie opened the storehouse with pride, eyes shining as she looked to Brody for approval.

“They’re well-kept. This should last you through winter.”

“Not just last—we even have enough to share. Right now, only small amounts are distributed through the Duke’s office, but…”

“Oh? So you give them away freely?”

Connie’s eyes gleamed mischievously as she leaned in.

“You’re sharp, my lady. Starting next year, once we set aside a share for the Duke’s needs, we’ll be allowed to sell the rest.”

“My.”

Brody’s lips curved to mirror Connie’s upward smile.

And now she understood.

Why Connie seemed so lively, so confident.

“You’ve worked so hard. This must all be new and difficult. Hasn’t it been too much?”

“Hard? Oh, no, my lady. Well, of course, it’s different from serving noble ladies—sometimes we grumble, but don’t people grumble in any work? The truth is, this is good. Hard on the body, but good in every other way.”

“Of course it is.”

Brody nodded, recognizing it. Connie had realized her own worth—standing on her own two feet.

What shone from her now was dignity.