The carriage wheels rolled over the stone-paved road, producing a monotonous and dull bumping sound.
Outside the carriage was a boiling cauldron of human voices—the chaotic footsteps and cries of refugees.
Mixed together and muffled by the thick carriage walls, they reached the ears only as a vague, heart-palpitating hum.
Inside the carriage, dead silence.
Fourteen-year-old Reinhard Andreas Von sat upright opposite his mother.
He looked at his mother, Lino Margarita Von.
She wasn't crying. She just sat quietly, hands folded on her lap, her posture as elegant as ever.
As if she wasn't fleeing a city about to be destroyed, but rely going to attend an afternoon tea party in the Imperial Capital.
But Reinhard knew it was different.
The corners of his mother's eyes were slightly red. Those eyes, which could always spot the slightest flaw in his etiquette, were now staring blankly at the rapidly retreating streetscape outside the window, devoid of any focus.
Driving the carriage was the butler, Hal.
"Madam."
Hal's voice ca from the front.
He took out a letter sealed with wax from his chest pocket. Without looking back, he simply passed it backward.
"The Master ordered to give this to you after we departed."
Lino's body trembled almost imperceptibly.
She slowly raised her hand. Her fingertips touched the slightly warm envelope, then jerked back abruptly.
After a mont of hesitation, she took it.
The sound of tearing the wax seal was exceptionally harsh in the dead silent carriage.
The letter unfolded, and familiar, slightly scrawled handwriting ca into view.
To my beloved Lino:
I can still recall the day we first arrived at Iron Fortress.
You were wearing the most beautiful silk dress, yet you had to step into the mud that was deep enough to swallow your expensive shoes.
I rember the expression on your face—that unconcealable disdain, as if you would turn around and board the carriage back to the Capital in the next second.
But you didn't.
You just frowned, lifted your skirt, and chose to walk by my side.
At that ti, I was just a poor boy with nothing but a title and a chest full of hot blood.
I really couldn't imagine that a noble lady like you would condescend to personally teach those villagers, who couldn't even read, how to bow, how to dine, and how to straighten their spines.
Twenty years. You always complained that the wind here was too strong and would wrinkle your skin.
Complained that the food here was too coarse and would damage your stomach.
But I know, you love this land more than I do.
Without realizing it, I'm reminiscing about the past again.
People get like this when they grow old.
Actually, what I wanted to say is:
Rember to eat breakfast, or your stomach ailnt will flare up again.
Eat a hearty lunch, so you have the strength to discipline Reinhard, that brat who always makes you angry.
Rember not to overeat at dinner, because when you're too full, you always toss and turn, unable to sleep.
The nights are cold; cover yourself well with the quilt, don't kick it off like a child anymore.
There are so words I always felt I had plenty of ti to say, so I never said them to you solemnly.
I love you.
I regret saying this sentence too rarely.
But these three words have always been the root of all my actions and decisions.
Finally, please forget .
Go live your own life. Find a man who can let you sleep peacefully by a warm fireplace.
He will know how to appreciate your beauty better than I do, and be more worthy of your nobility.
— Andrew Conrad Von, in his own hand
The letter slipped from Lino's trembling fingers, fluttering onto the velvet-covered carpet.
She could no longer maintain the dignity and elegance belonging to a noble.
She abruptly covered her mouth with her hand, suppressing herself, not letting the sobs leak out.
But the grief surged out of her body like a flood breaking a dam.
Her shoulders heaved violently. One drop, then two drops of scalding tears passed through the gaps of her fingers, smashing onto her luxurious skirt, spreading into small dark stains.
Should I start from the moonlight of the night we first t, or from the way he blushed when he clumsily pinned a wildflower on ?
Should I start from when he stayed up for three days and nights in the study for the first blueprint of Iron Fortress, and lifted his bloodshot eyes when I brought him hot soup?
Or from when Reinhard was born, and he held that tiny baby, smiling foolishly and helplessly?
Scene by scene, bit by bit, it all welled up.
She had thought parting was sothing very distant, only now understanding.
Life is impermanent; separation by death is all too common.
Even if longing seeps into the bones, there is no going back.
Reinhard looked at the scene before him, completely at a loss.
In his mory, his mother was always strict and elegant.
She would frown because his knife and fork made a slight noise while dining, and scold him severely for a single crease in his collar.
He had never seen his mother cry.
Not even once.
He felt a wave of inexplicable panic, subconsciously wanting to shrink into the corner.
But just then, he suddenly rembered sothing from his childhood.
That ti, he was scolded by his mother for failing to recite the complicated family history. He hid alone in a corner of the garden, hugging his knees and crying.
His father found him.
A tall shadow lood over him. He thought he was going to get another scolding.
But his father just patted his head, said nothing, and pointed at the sky.
He looked up and saw a sky full of brilliant stars.
"Reinhard."
His father's voice was gentle.
"When you feel fear, if you just hide, your world will beco smaller and smaller, until only the little bit of fear in front of your eyes remains."
"Look up. The stars in the sky, the distant mountains, and this land beneath our feet—they are all much bigger than your fear."
"When you fit them all into your heart, that little bit of fear will amount to nothing."
The world...
Reinhard looked at his mother, who was crying and trembling before him.
He suddenly understood.
Father was gone.
Now, he was his mother's world.
The boy slowly scooted over, extended his still-tender arms, and gently, clumsily, hugged his mother.
He said nothing, just imitating his father in his mory, gently patting his mother's back with his hand, rhythmically.
Lino's body stiffened, then collapsed completely into her son's embrace. The suppressed crying finally turned into desperate and painful whimpers.
At the front of the carriage, Hal's shoulders heaved slightly.
He stared at the crowded and chaotic road ahead, raised his whip, and lashed the horse's back hard.
"Hyah!"
The carriage lunged forward.
A turbid tear slid down the deep wrinkles on his cheek, scattered into the air by the wind the mont he opened his mouth.
Reinhard looked back through the gap in the window.
The outline of the tall city walls of Iron Fortress was shrinking rapidly in his vision.
He seed to see his father standing alone on that wall, about to be drowned by death.
The boy slowly withdrew his gaze, lowered his head, and looked at his mother weeping in his arms.
Silently, he clenched his fists.
The honor of the Andrew family, the future of Iron Fortress...
Those words he once felt were incredibly distant, at this mont, pressed onto his still-tender shoulders.
He knew that from today on, everything was different.
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