TCCIO 28

Chapter 28. The Stone of Mount Tarrens
Aaron softly recited all the best things he could offer Delia.

“If you want, I’ll have an architect from Iorenti build it in Iorenti style. We’ll throw grand balls in that castle.”

“That’s not Iorenti.”

“So what? You won’t even have time to think of Iorenti.”

“I’ll never forget Iorenti.”

“You can forget. You will forget. We’ll host a ball every night, so the music never stops. Dancing together while eating sweet cakes—it’ll feel like heaven. You’ll make new friends, play cards, and be too busy showing off the jewels your husband gave you to even think about the past.”

Aaron whispered all the best he had to give, like a prayer. He hoped his words would sink deep into Delia’s mind. As if it were the only hope and goal that existed.

“And when time passes and a child is born, our children will grow up running around that castle.”

Delia looked at Aaron with desperate eyes. It wasn’t hard to associate his ashen-gray eyes with the wolf that had long weighed upon her. The silver wolf was threatening the very reason for her existence—trying to make her forget that she was a princess of Iorenti. A fact she must never forget.

“And you’ll smile as you watch. We’ll be happy, without a doubt.”

Could that really be possible? Could she leave Iorenti behind, forget it, and find happiness with the one who had destroyed it? The more she listened to his endless whispering, the more everything became tangled. The boundary between her present and the future he painted blurred. Overwhelming confusion wrapped around her. She needed the past—something to hold onto in the suffocating chaos.

“Commander…”

Delia’s voice trembled faintly as she felt the warmth of a hand brush her cheek.

“I want to see my grandfather.”

Aaron, who had been speaking as if in a monologue, suddenly paused.

“Your grandfather? Not your parents?”

He had been ready to deny any meeting with her parents. She could only meet them after the war of conquest was over and their wedding had taken place. But her grandfather? Aaron stared sharply into Delia’s eyes, trying to make sense of her unexpected request.

“I want to see my grandfather before I leave Iorenti.”

Her grandfather would remind her of who she was. He would anchor her, so she wouldn’t be swayed by the silver devil’s tempting paradise.

“Please… let me see him.”

Delia pulled the blanket up to her chin, wishing it would protect her from the silver wolf the way his uniform once had from its claws.

“Where is he?”

“Mount Tarrens, on the Outerley Cliff.”

Aaron looked down at Delia, who pleaded like a cornered animal—like prey pursued by a wolf. Her hand clenched the blanket, trembling. Aaron gently enveloped her small, shaking hand and let out a deep breath.

“All right. Let’s go together.”

Though it was midday, the clouds had covered the sun, casting a gloomy air. The chill wind rustled Delia’s hair in the forest. Aaron gripped her wrist, which felt as if it might vanish at any moment.

“Your grandfather… he was the former king of Iorenti, right? Leopold III?”

Aaron followed Delia up the steep mountain. In one of her hands, she clutched a handful of wildflowers Dyke had picked for her.

“You even know the name of the king from a country you look down on for being small? You’ve done your research.”

“That’s basic. But… why is your grandfather here?”

He responded casually while helping her climb a tall rock.

“He loved Mount Tarrens.”

Recalling memories of her grandfather, Delia glanced around the forest with a more relaxed expression than she had in the camp. Aaron matched his pace to her slow, nostalgic steps.

“We used to come here together often.”

“You must’ve been close with him.”

“Yes. He loved me dearly. He always brought me with him when he came to Mount Tarrens.”

After a pause, she added, “To be honest, I just didn’t want to study etiquette. Every time the etiquette teacher came, I’d beg him to take me here.”

Delia’s eyes grew moist as she gazed up the mountain, lost in memory.

“He loved the mountain, and I hated the lessons. So we were a perfect match. If I begged, he’d drop everything and get ready to hike.”

“Maybe Leopold III just didn’t want to work,” Aaron joked.

Delia gave a soft, faint smile—as if it might disappear any second.

“Maybe. Anyway, we came here all the time. If my mother tried to stop me, Grandpa would sneak me out under his cloak.”

Delia looked down the trail they had climbed. She remembered the warmth inside her grandfather’s cloak, his unique scent in the fabric, the comfort of his heartbeat. The breeze carried memories past her. She took a deep breath, afraid to lose even one.

“He taught me all the hidden caves, shortcuts… everything.”

“That doesn’t sound like proper education for a princess. Time that should’ve been spent on etiquette or court rules.”

Aaron caught her by the waist as she stumbled again.

“It was the most important education for a princess. He said a royal of Iorenti must love Iorenti above all else.”

Using Aaron’s hand for support, Delia stepped onto a large stone.

“Back then, I didn’t really understand what he meant. But…”

They had reached the mountaintop. Green trees spread below them like a vast emerald carpet. Rolling ridges, deep valleys, steep cliffs, and ethereal clouds covered everything. Looking down at all of Mount Tarrens, her worries felt like dust.

“But… ever since Grandpa died, every stone I see reminds me of him.”

Delia moved toward the cliff’s edge, gazing down Mount Tarrens.

“That’s why every pebble feels precious—like it holds part of his spirit.”

Was she planning to jump? Aaron, recalling the black-masked assassin who had leapt down dangerous slopes, quickly stepped close to her. But Delia ignored his watchful eyes and gently knelt at the cliff’s edge. There stood a small, crooked gravestone—barely more than a child’s carving.
[Delia’s grandfather. Resting here.]

“That doesn’t look official,” Aaron said cautiously, watching Delia and the gravestone with unease. He felt there had to be more to this than met the eye. A hidden weapon? Something buried?

“I carved it myself,” Delia replied calmly.

She placed the wildflowers before the stone.

“When the Kingdom of Pbever invaded by sea, Grandpa personally led the troops.”

The flowers swayed in the wind. She tucked a stray hair behind her ear.

“But the ship he boarded sank. His body was never recovered. We had to hold a state funeral without remains.”

Delia reached out and gently touched the gravestone.

“So I placed this here. It was our favorite place. Just in case his spirit lingers, I wanted him to visit this spot too.”

Her eyes shimmered, glistening with tears.

“To me, Iorenti is like this. Even a stone feels like my grandfather. Even the breeze carries his soul.”

“Keep the past as a beautiful memory. I’ll fill your future with beauty,” Aaron said.

Delia raised her eyes to him.

“Iorenti is the country Grandpa gave his life to protect. If it falls… can I really keep living?”

She slowly stood up. Her cape fluttered in the mountain wind. Her sky-colored eyes stared directly into Aaron’s.

“Can I live with the man who destroyed it?”

Aaron’s gaze turned icy. He stepped forward and pulled her into a firm embrace, trapping her bird-like eyes that seemed ready to fly into the blue sky.

“You must live.”

He turned his head, whispering in her ear.

“Because the fate of your parents, the King and Queen of Iorenti… is in my hands.”

Delia shut her eyes, as if rejecting reality. She let her body rest against his large hand stroking her hair. The hands that sought to destroy Iorenti were terrifyingly firm—and warm.

The descent was easier, but Delia often staggered from exhaustion. Aaron, after catching her repeatedly, finally stopped.

“Get on my back.”

“I can walk on my own.”

“Then at least let me carry you.”

Reading his unshakable resolve, Delia sighed and leaned on his shoulder. As she wrapped her arms around his neck, the scent of the forest—mixed with his—filled her lungs.

“What’s the difference between a pebble and a jewel? I’ll fill your life with glittering stones.”

Aaron lifted her securely and began to walk, murmuring the future he would create for her.

“Since the duchess’s seat has been vacant for so long, everyone will be eager to meet you. You’ll wear the jewels I picked and the dress I ordered. Walk proudly.”

Delia listened to the rose-colored dream he painted.

“You can spill wine on any noble lady you dislike, or shove some passing matron into a fountain. No one will dare say a thing. They’ll be grateful just to be near the duchess.”

“I couldn’t do anything like that.”

“Why not? I did it all the time as a kid. And people still loved it.”

Delia chuckled weakly at his absurd remark. He was like a wild beast, yet at times, mischievous like a child. Harsh in manner, yet so delicate in touch that it ached. Maybe that was why… even though he was the enemy who destroyed Iorenti, being with him felt peaceful and comforting.

She clung to the warmth of his voice vibrating through his back, as he whispered her paradoxical fate.