My Wife Waited in the Wheat Fields

The western battlefield was a brutal place.

It was a continental melting pot, a melting pot where one empire and seven kingdoms vied for supremacy, an inferno of humanity burning as firewood.

It burned with the blood of countless men, had consumed the blood of many more, and the stories told about the men burned like firewood were just as gruesome.

Yet, there were also some people whose peculiar lives just ended up having them flow into the battlefield.

This was what a nobleman that Elric had met once said.

“I’m Elvus Greymorn. Are you Kasha?”

He had just turned 17.

At the time, Elric was a promising young mercenary adapting to the battlefield, and he was the third son of a family leading a territory war.

Their relationship was that of an employer and an employee, and the battlefield that day were the walls of a city, guarded by the Hundred Flaming Guns.

Elric and the nobleman were on the besieging side of the conflict.

“We must breach that gate. Our Graymorn Knights will charge in on horseback, and then the soldiers will follow them in the siege. The defenders’ forces will be focused on us, so you sneak in during that chaos.”

At the time, he had only been 20 years old.

It was now a distant memory, so Elric couldn’t remember exactly what he looked like, but his young and inexperienced eyes and his firearms were still vivid in his memory.

Although he was curious about why a young nobleman was commanding in the battlefield, Elric didn’t ask.

As a hired hand, it was his duty to do the job that he was paid to do.

“Attack!”

There were always things that linger on the battlefield.

The foul, fishy smell of iron and blood, the ochre-colored clouds of dust and dirt, and the cries and clamors that scatter them about.

Elvus Greyman was in the middle of it all.

Not as a commander, but as a knight, trying to breach the enemy’s walls.

His determination was evident even through the dust and dirt.

Elric had watched him from a distance, just one step away from the battlefield.

“Kasha, shall we begin.”

“I see.”

In the end, they won the war.

Elric had cut off the enemy general’s head and crushed the lord’s bloodline.

But it was not a complete victory.

Nobleman Elvus Grayman became a person who could never set foot on the battlefield again.

Such things happened.

He was lucky that he didn’t lose his life, and he was also a nobleman, so his life shouldn’t have been too uncomfortable even with his disability.

Elric had traveled to the Greyman Mansion to collect his promised reward, thinking such thoughts.

It was there that Elric learned the story of Elvus’ life from the mansion’s servants.

Servants, after all, were a class of people who enjoyed stimulating stories to shake off their boredom.

“What will become of the third master? Poor thing…”

“Sigh, what sin did he commit to be born as a concubine’s child and be pushed into the battlefield…”

“Did you see him? Even though he was crippled and could never walk again, he came in smiling and went straight to the duke to report.”

“But the Duke wouldn’t even bat him an eye….”

Everyone had a sore spot that hurt when poked.

Even the brilliant and talented nobleman.

Elric had drawn a rough picture in his mind of the situation.

Perhaps Elvus had gone to the battlefield to escape from his plight of being born as an illegitimate child and thus facing persecution every day.

If he couldn’t inherit the family name, he might have dreamed of making a name for himself as a general whilst living a long life.

Or maybe he had wanted to impress his father, the duke.

The reason Elric was unable to escape from these thoughts was because he felt empath with Elvus’ situation.

Seventeen-year-old Elric had been deeply resentful of his own father, and was a person who could rant all day about how unhappy an unloved child could be.

Elric, who was naturally impatient, had immediately asked Elvus Grayman about this as soon as he faced him.

“That’s just the way it is. I’ve suffered a lot because of my ugly father too.”

“Ah, you’re here?”

“Don’t you resent your father?”

“Hmm?”

He had wanted them to curse at their fathers’ together to their hearts’ content.

But the response he had gotten was unexpected.

“Well, I didn’t go to war to please my lord.”

Sometimes, humans come across someone who is on a completely different path than themselves.

Someone so different, to the point of them being worlds apart, that you would just feel a sense of alienation from their very existence.

This was the case for Elric that day.

Elvus Grayman was a man who, despite being in a semi-comatose state on his bed, proudly showed off his shiny firearms.

He had denied Elric’s words with a steady gaze that never betrayed a hint of doubt.

“It was my duty. There was no other reason to it.”

He had said.

As someone born into nobility, he had believed that it was only proper to bear the appropriate responsibilities and obligations. 

He had truly believed that he had to demonstrate the worthiness of his position in the eyes of others.

The war had merely been an opportunity for him to fulfill his responsibilities and obligations.

Then, there had been a question that Elric had casually thrown out in response to words that he could not understand.

In retrospect, it was such an incoherent question to the point where if one’s brain were about to explode, there would have still been no excuse for it.

“…Are you not a concubine’s child? You are half commoner.”

Even faced with such words, Elvus Grayman had just smiled and replied.

“To put it another way, I am half a nobleman, and so I lost half my body when fulfilling half my responsibilities and duties. So now, I can just live the rest of my life as a carefree hansom.” [1]

This was actually how he lived afterward.

He took a step back from the fiery battlefields and enjoyed the comforts of a nobleman’s life, even marrying a few years later.

Elric knew this because they had met several times since.

Elvus Grayman, a strange and unique nobleman, was one of the few friends Elric had whilst living as Kasha, and was the person who had inspired him as a young man.

…Anyway, there was a reason why Elric had started reminiscing over the past.

“I am Tyria Portman.”

That was the answer that the now departed Tyria had given him when he had asked about why she had chosen to protect his inheritance instead of returning to her family with it.

Her complexion had been very calm and there was not a hint of disturbance, as if she were just stating the obvious.

It was very aristocratic, which is why he couldn’t have helped but think of Elvus unconsciously.

Responsibility and duty.

Of the certain weight that they naturally bear.

Krrrrr, Krrrrr–

Elric sat at the desk in his room.

The dagger he always carried around in his arms was drawn and was the thing scratching his desk.

The dagger had lost its sharp edge a long time ago, having been dulled with age.

The dagger was simply an amulet that Elric carried around to keep his restlessness at bay.

Krrrrr, Krrrrr–

Despite the dull dagger, the surface of the desk was filled with deep carvings.

The longer Elric spent contemplating, the deeper the grooves became.

Elric stared at them, repeating the same three words to himself.

‘Responsibility and duty.’

Perhaps the underlying essence behind her answer of “I am Tyria Portman” was that.

To Elric, who didn’t know her well, he could only associate her aristocratic demeanor with the reason behind her answer.

Then, what were her responsibilities and duties?

He continued to ask questions and sought answers.

‘As a noblewoman.’

What did they do…?

They were the ones who managed the household while the noblemen looked after outside affairs. [2]

They were the center of the household, the keepers of order.

Perhaps Tylia’s answer was also along those lines.

‘Portman.’

As Tyria Portman, she had been guarding what remained of the Portman Family.

Not for personal gratification, but to fulfill her responsibilities and duties.

Her answer, delivered as if stating an obvious fact, spoke to her morality.

A sense of shame began to gnaw at his insides anew.

Responsibility and duty were both things that Elric had turned and ran away from.

Between the two of them, as a human being and a noble, only she had kept her morals and integrity.

Elric grasped the dull blade tightly. 

He was lost in thought while looking at the lifeless blade.

There was no way for him to compensate for the 10 years she had sacrificed.

Elric didn’t have the ability to turn back time.

However, that didn’t mean that there was nothing he could do.

‘There will inevitably be another letter.’

A letter requesting her to bring back home the inheritance.

They had been coming consistently for a year, so there was no reason for them to stop now.

One thing he had to consider was the fact that even though the Wyvern Family demanded a response, they had not come to this place.

It was likely that they were somehow unable to come.

It could have been his father’s will, or it could have been Tyria’s.

‘Even if I ask, she probably won’t answer…’

If that had been her personality type, then she would have mentioned the letters to him a long time ago.

From what he had observed, she was the kind of person to keep things to herself, so she wouldn’t complain about anything either

But fortunately, it wasn’t like there wasn’t a way to find out.

Elric rose from his seat.

He strode out of the room, cane in hand.

“Aldio.”

“Yes.”

“Can you prepare the carriage?”

“Hmm? Where are you planning to go?”

Elric smirked.

“I’m thinking of going to see the Wyverns.”

It was a small gesture, but if the letters were really causing Tyria trouble, it could be fixed. He could tell them to stop sending letters to the mansion.

If it was the other way around, Elric could also fix it. If it was his father’s will that she shouldn’t be able to communicate with her family, then he could simply reconnect them with her.

A direct approach, to tackle something head on.

This was the method Elric liked the most.

[1. A hansom is a horse drawn carriage where the driver is actually behind the carriage. This is basically a wheelchair joke.]

[2. Please don’t call me a misogynist for this. I’m only the messenger.]