The Archduke's Songbird-Chapter 347: Hope For the Future

Jerrick’s expression didn’t change for some time, but slowly, his expression softened.

"Brother... I’ll take my son," Jerrick’s voice trembled as he struggled to rise to his feet. He reached for his son, but his legs, weakened from the weight of grief and exhaustion, gave out beneath him. Before he could collapse entirely, William was at his side, steadying him with firm hands.

Jerrick slumped against William’s chest, his shoulders shaking with a sorrow that seemed boundless. His heart had shattered, and the pieces lay heavy in his chest, making it hard to even breathe. His voice, once filled with confidence and resolve, was now fragile, broken by the enormity of his loss.

"She’s gone, William... She left me..." His words came out as a sob, barely audible through the tears that had choked him for so long.

William held him tightly, his own emotions swirling within, but he knew this wasn’t the time for his grief. Jerrick needed him now more than ever. He whispered softly, his voice filled with the love only a brother could offer, "You’re not alone."

For a long moment, Jerrick didn’t respond. His heart was too heavy, too broken to accept those words. But as the tears finally began to slow, as the storm of his anguish subsided for just a moment, he found his voice again, softer this time, yet laced with a new kind of understanding.

"Yes... She left me with a part of herself... Our son..." Jerrick’s voice steadied, though the sorrow had not left him. It never would. Grief would linger like a shadow, haunting him in quiet moments, in the space where Jessamyn’s laughter used to fill the air. But his love for their son—their son—became the anchor that kept him grounded. His heart may be shattered, but the fragile hope that lived in their child’s innocent face was enough to keep him tethered to the world.

He gazed down at the tiny form sleeping soundly, wrapped in warmth and comfort. Jerrick’s breath hitched as he watched the gentle rise and fall of his son’s chest. The love that swelled within him was both excruciating and beautiful, a reminder of everything he’d lost but also everything he still had. She had given him this—a part of herself, forever.

"I’ll get by," Jerrick mumbled, as if trying to convince himself. His voice, though still laden with sorrow, carried a faint resolve. "I’ll have to get by... for him."

William, sitting beside him on the bed, nodded in agreement. The war may have taken much, but it hadn’t taken everything. Not yet. And they still had a long way to go. The fight wasn’t over, and though grief clung to both of them like a thick fog, they would have to push forward. There was no other choice.

"I was in the magical blast," William said quietly, almost to himself. "And yet, I was unharmed... probably my Theodulf blood saved me..." He marveled at the thought. The devastation outside had spared the tent. "There was a protective spell around the tent. Unnecessary, don’t you think?"

Jerrick’s lips curved into a faint, bittersweet smile. His eyes flickered with a memory, a sense of knowing. It was not just to send him away just for her to draw the spell circle. "She probably didn’t want our son to lose his warm cocoon..." he murmured, voice thick with emotion. Jessamyn had thought of everything, even in her final moments.

She knew Jerrick would need time—time to grieve, to find his footing. And their son... their son would need protection, even from the worst of magic’s wrath.

William stared at his brother, recognizing the depth of Jessamyn’s love in that moment. She had known. Somehow, she had known exactly what would happen, and she had acted not just as a warrior, but as a mother. Even in her absence, she had left behind a sanctuary—a place of warmth and safety for their son.

"The Council is gone, William..." Jerrick’s voice took on a new tone—one of fiery resolve. The grief hadn’t left him, but there was something else now—a deep, burning rage that had replaced the hollow emptiness. "I’m going to hunt anyone and everyone who believes in that cancerous ideology. They need to repent, or they’ll pay with their lives. Jessamyn eradicated the heart of their belief. Now, I’ll eliminate the rest."

William could see the fire in Jerrick’s eyes, the kind of determination that had always pushed him forward. There was no doubt in his mind that Jerrick would follow through. He hadn’t finished grieving, not by a long shot, but this was something he could channel his energy into. It was better, perhaps, to focus on something tangible, something he could fight—anything to keep the crushing weight of his loss at bay.

William shared what he knew, describing the dire state of Ayberia and the looming threat of the Altanian Kingdom. "With the Council gone, we’ll have to see what they decide," William said, though he wasn’t optimistic. He knew the Altanians wouldn’t give up easily.

Jerrick’s gaze hardened. "There’s nothing to wait for. For now..." His eyes drifted to the corner of the tent, where Jessamyn had left the severed heads of the Altanian prince she had slain. "We eliminate every Altanian who crossed our borders to cause us harm."

William agreed. The peace they all yearned for was still far off—decades, perhaps, if it ever came at all. A swift surrender from the Altanians would be a miracle, but William had no such illusions. They would have to continue fighting, if only for the chance at a future without bloodshed.

"We need to bring someone from Altania," William said cautiously, then explained how Hamilton Lorca had helped Jessamyn and had even turned against his own men to save innocent lives.

Jerrick nodded slowly, his mind already turning toward action. "I’ll take care of it," he said, his voice firm. His eyes softened as they returned to his sleeping son. There was a quiet peace there, in the stillness of the tent, as if Jerrick had found something to hold onto in the midst of all this chaos. "I have a lot to do."

William, sensing the shift in his brother, leaned in. There was something that had been bothering him, something that Jerrick had seen. "What did Brennan Theodulf show you?" he asked, his voice low with curiosity. He had wanted to ask ever since he had learned of it, but now, Jerrick’s expression made him think there was more to the story.

Jerrick’s lips curved into a smirk, a flicker of the old Jerrick returning. "Why should I tell you?" he teased, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief, a rare spark in the sea of grief.