Her Graceful War Song のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 51 - チャプター 60

The first snowfall lasted less than an hour before stopping.Carissa was dressed in her usual plain white attire with a white flower pinned in her hair, and moved gracefully through the estate. She had worn white since her parents' passing, observing the traditional three-year mourning period and avoiding bright colors.She entered the room, her steps steady and unhurried, and greeted Charlotte with a respectful bow. "Hello, Aunt Charlotte."Carissa then nodded politely to Amelia, acknowledging her presence.Charlotte stood up and took Carissa's hand, examining her closely. Carissa's complexion was smooth and pale, her overall appearance even more refined than during her time at the Valor Estate.Satisfied that Carissa looked healthy and well, Charlotte's eyes welled with tears as she recalled Carissa's difficult days with the Warrens. "Carissa, how have you been?" she asked. "Thank you for your concern, Aunt Charlotte. I'm doing well," Carissa replied with a gentle smile as s

Carissa looked at Amelia's despairing eyes. She realized that Amelia must have been deeply frightened by Barrett divorcing her.Amelia sobbed aloud, hastily covering her mouth with her handkerchief before continuing, "Carissa, it's true! I'm not lying to you. Mom thinks the Warrens have changed for the better, and can now mix with the elite of the capital. She often shows dissatisfaction towards me being the eldest wife in charge but lacking the demeanor of one. She even regrets letting Benjamin marry me."I'm not like you. I can't return to my parents' home if I get divorced. They'll criticize me and say I'm tarnishing my sisters' and nieces' marriages. I'd rather die than get divorced! I won't even have a chance to enter a nunnery."Carissa knew a bit about Amelia's family. Her father is a seventh-rank editor at the Privy Council. Although his official rank wasn't high and he held no real power, scholars value etiquette and reputation greatly. If a family has a daughter who has be

They rested at an inn that evening. Both Lightning and Carissa managing a good night's sleep. Being away from home made her unusually alert. She rose before dawn, washed up, and covered her face with a black cloth before continuing on her journey.The journey was naturally arduous, made worse by the biting cold that even the cloth couldn't shield from, roughening her skin considerably. The previous night at the inn, she had looked into a mirror. Her once smooth skin was now red and almost cracking. She applied camellia oil to prevent it from worsening—it wasn't about beauty, but avoiding pain.On the fifth morning of travel, she arrived at the Southern Frontier. The absence of supply convoys on the road along the way troubled her. It meant that the Hell Monarch thought victory was assured, and didn't need to constantly obtain provisions. However, there was still a fierce battle ahead.Upon reaching the Southern Frontier, she inquired and learned that only two cities, Ilyrian and

At this moment, Carissa felt utterly exhausted. Her legs trembled as she sat down on the mat. She was too tired to worry about proper etiquette. It had been a long time since she had been so rushed, and she was struggling to keep up.Rafael saw her state, and smiled. "You're worn out, aren't you? How many days did it take you?""Five days," Carissa said, catching her breath. "I’m fine, but my horse is really exhausted.""Impressive!" Rafael said with admiration. Then, he called out loudly, "Feed the horses and prepare the meals!"A booming voice responded from outside. "Yes, sir!"Carissa quickly asked, "Aren’t you going to devise a strategy? Or send someone to urgently notify the capital and request more reinforcements?"Rafael leaned against the desk, tapping his long fingers on his leg as he narrowed his eyes. "We will recruit soldiers. Reinforcements won’t arrive quickly. To handle the first battle, we need to first recruit soldiers and gather provisions."He looked at Car

Calling the food prepared for dinner a meal seemed quite noble. In reality, there were only two pieces of hard flatbread and dried meat—typical battlefield rations. These were the kinds of supplies commonly sent to the front lines.Now that the troops were stationed here, they could have prepared some hot stew or oatmeal. However, it was already late, and starting a big pot of stew just for Carissa would have been unreasonable.Still, they were thoughtful enough to provide a pot of hot water, which was at least something warm to drink and could heat up her body.The small, temporary tent was filled with thick, heavy blankets that were dirty and hardened with grime. Carissa could tell from a touch that the stains on the blankets were dried blood.A tall, young soldier with thick eyebrows and a scruffy beard led her in. He scratched his head and asked, “Is this okay? If not, I can get some hot soup made for you.”“No need, this is fine,” Carissa said with a grateful smile, biting