The Archduke's Songbird-Chapter 127: Peace In War

Jessamyn didn’t want to leave him hanging and walked up the stairs. Archon Erlan’s face darkened seeing her ascending the steps. Jerrick descended to meet her halfway and gently took her hand, guiding her the rest of the way up.

"We cannot have another war," Archon Erlan said as they reached the platform, his voice heavy with implied accusations.

Jerrick’s voice was deep and resolute. "What makes you think there will be one?"

Archon Erlan chuckled, though the sound was hollow and bitter. "You’re as confident as I remember you, Wulfhart... I, on the other hand, place my trust solely in Our Gracious One!" He clasped his hands together and bowed his head in a display of devout piety.

Jessamyn rolled her eyes, unable to hide her disdain.

Jerrick chuckled too, the fine lines at the corners of his eyes crinkling. Jessamyn was surprised to see him acting so amiably with someone like the Archon.

"I too trust in her..." Jerrick continued, his tone light but pointed. "I wouldn’t want to go to war again, right after my wedding..."

The Archon’s smile vanished at the mention of the wedding, and Jerrick’s smile faded as well.

"I heard you’re not very fond of our wedding, Archon Erlan. I hoped to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth," Jerrick said, his words cutting through the tense atmosphere.

Jessamyn was shocked by Jerrick’s candidness. She could see the rigid set of the Archon’s jaw and the flicker of anger in his eyes. Her heart pounded as she glanced at Jerrick, who stood tall and unyielding, a pillar of strength beside her.

Archon Erlan’s face twisted with barely concealed contempt. "Your union... defies the natural order," he spat out, his voice low and venomous. "It invites disaster upon our land."

Jerrick’s grip on Jessamyn’s hand tightened, his expression unwavering. "Our Gracious One doesn’t care for the rules of us mortals, Archon. It is fear and hatred that bring about ruin."

The Archon’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Jessamyn feared he might lash out. But then he simply turned away, dismissing them both with a wave of his hand.

Jessamyn felt a surge of conflicting emotions—anger, fear, and a reluctant admiration for Jerrick’s boldness. Yet, Jerrick didn’t stop there.

"I’ll expect your presence at our wedding, Archon. The Primarch too!" Jerrick shouted. "Who knows? The Gracious One might give a surefire sign that she accepts our union!"

At that exact moment, the bells from the church high up on the hill tolled joyously.

"See... It’s an auspicious omen!" Jerrick exclaimed, stopping Archon Erlan in his tracks. He turned to face Jerrick. "Goddess has blessed our union!"

Archon Erlan shook his head before walking inside. Jessamyn wanted to roll her eyes. The church bells tolled hourly, serving as the city’s clock. It was not a miracle.

She bowed her head, almost giving in to the dark feelings that used to trouble her—was she truly unlucky?

Joar’s comforting words echoed in her mind.

"What are you planning to do?"

Her thoughts were interrupted by Jerrick’s deep voice. She looked at him, his green eyes focused on her. He sure had a lot of questions, she knew, but he asked her what she wanted to do. Did that mean he would allow her to pursue her course of action?

"I want to find the impersonator," she said. "And find justice for the girls who were killed."

Jerrick wetted his lips and guided her down the stairs. "Are you sure you’re the only one?"

Jessamyn had the same question too, and she shrugged. "If there is another, he would have put their life on the line and tried to save the girls. He wouldn’t have run away."

"Maybe he got there late," Jerrick suggested.

"Maybe..." Jessamyn conceded. There was that possibility too. Maybe it was a novice, and their inexperience led to the girls’ deaths. The smugglers might have mistaken that person for the real Purple Hood and escaped not before killing the girls.

She let out a deep breath, trying to steady her racing thoughts. The burden of her secret identity weighed heavily on her, but she couldn’t let that deter her. The girls deserved justice, and she would not rest until the true culprits were found.

"Why aren’t you doing anything about the smugglers?" she asked. "Why are most lords war-happy and not care about the evil within?"

Jerrick was a warrior and he was not the only warrior lord in the kingdom. Rather than finding out where their border is weak and finding ways to expand the kingdom by war, why aren’t they protecting the people from the dangers within?

Jerrick smiled, but it wasn’t a smile born of happiness. His grip on her hand tightened, and his eyes seemed to look past her, beyond the present moment, to a place only he could see. There was a deep, haunting sorrow etched into his expression, a forlorn look that spoke of countless battles fought and lives lost. He gazed into the distance as if trying to find words to capture the turmoil inside him.

"Some find peace on the battlefield," he began, his voice a low, resonant murmur. "It’s a paradox, really. Once you’re in the fray, surrounded by the chaos of combat, with blood staining the ground and the air thick with the cries of the dying and the clash of steel, something strange happens. The initial horror and hesitation of taking a life... it fades. You become numb to it, and in that numbness, you find a sort of twisted peace."

His eyes darkened, and Jessamyn could see the pain behind them, the burden of memories he carried. "That peace, it never really leaves you. It lingers, like a shadow, always at the edge of your consciousness. It’s the quiet amidst the storm, the clarity that comes when you’ve accepted that you might not see another sunrise. It’s addicting. You start to crave it, that sense of calm that comes from knowing you’re living on the knife’s edge, adrenaline coursing through your veins."

He paused, his gaze still distant, as if he were reliving those moments on the battlefield. "But it’s a peace that comes at a terrible cost. It strips away a part of your soul, piece by piece, until you’re not sure what’s left of the person you used to be. And yet, despite the cost, despite the blood and the death, you long for it. Because in the heat of battle, you find a purpose, a stark clarity that the mundane life can’t seem to match."

Jessamyn felt a lump rise in her throat as she listened to him. She could feel the weight of his words, the sorrow and the longing intertwined. She squeezed his hand, trying to offer some measure of comfort, but knowing that the scars he bore went far deeper than the surface.

"I do not want you to go there again, Jerry..." Jessamyn’s voice trembled with the weight of her plea.

Unconsciously, she used the name she called him when they were younger, back when life was simpler and the world hadn’t yet etched its harsh lines into their faces.

Jerrick’s eyes widened. Mynah!