Prologue

Around the time when the sun reached its zenith, the sky was a flawless blue, without a single cloud in sight—the perfect day. Amid such conditions, a single ship sailed northward off the eastern coast of the western continent. The ship was truly enormous, with a length that must have been close to two hundred meters. Considering that the typical galleon used on Earth measured around fifty meters in length, this ship was nearly four times as large. Its size rivaled even that of the sea dragon species, known to rule the oceans of this world.

Moreover, the ship’s design was different from that of a galleon. Its hull was sleeker and more elongated, with a sharp form, and it had a significantly greater number of sails. Rather than being built primarily to carry large quantities of trade goods, its design clearly prioritized speed. It resembled what was commonly known on Rearth as a clipper ship. The ship’s sails billowed, capturing the wind and imparting to the vessel a speed akin to a full-fledged sprint. This result was logical because it strongly resembled the swift sailing vessels known as clippers.

If the ship’s name, Boreas, engraved on its stern, was indeed taken from one of the wind gods of Greek mythology, one could say that the name perfectly embodied its nature. Should an outsider lay eyes on this vessel, they would undoubtedly question their own vision, perhaps even pinch their cheek in disbelief. Once they grasped what they were witnessing, they would surely offer a prayer to the gods of the sea. Although the wind was blowing from the north to the south, the ship was traveling northward. In other words, this ship was sailing against the wind. Despite that, it continued cutting through the waves at a speed resembling an arrow in flight. This phenomenon defied the very laws of physics, but sailing against the wind was not entirely impossible. In such cases, a ship needed to tack at an angle of roughly forty-five degrees, zigzagging back and forth to progress against the wind. At the very least, no sailing vessel could travel in a straight line directly into a headwind. The only ships capable of such a feat were steam-powered vessels, unaffected by wind direction.

On top of that, the speed of this ship was extraordinary by Earth’s standards. Clipper ships were designed with speed in mind, living up to their reputation as swift sailing vessels. Their sleek, elongated hulls were specifically shaped to reduce wind and wave resistance as much as possible. Clearly, this ship modeled after the clipper design had been built with the same emphasis on speed.

The ship also carried more sails than the galleons commonly used on Earth. Because the speed of a sailing vessel depended heavily on the wind, a ship equipped with more sails to catch that wind could naturally achieve greater speeds. Even so, there were limits. The speed of a sailing ship was influenced primarily by the number of sails and the strength of the wind, so it was difficult to determine an average speed. But for the sailing vessels commonly used on Earth, the average speed was likely around four to five knots. One knot was equivalent to 1.852 kilometers per hour, meaning that five knots would translate to roughly 9 kilometers per hour.

However, this ship was far beyond five knots. The exact figure was unknown, but it had to exceed thirty knots. When converted to land speed, that was over sixty kilometers per hour and was a speed no sailing vessel could ever hope to reach. Even high-speed ferries were said to travel at around thirty-five knots. If a sailing ship could match such a ferry in speed, it would undoubtedly be considered an anomaly. For the superstitious people of Earth, witnessing such a sight would likely lead them to believe either that the ship was possessed by demons or that it was a ghost ship from beyond this world.

The ones aboard this so-called anomaly showed no recognition of the absurdity of their situation. Instead, they understood everything perfectly and still chose to sail on this ship. From the crew working on deck to the captain stationed in the wheelhouse, they all appeared to be seasoned sailors. They had likely endured countless trials and navigated through many perilous seas, yet their movements were swift and efficient. That said, judging from the expressions of these skilled sailors, it wasn’t as though they were entirely free of tension. The real issue lay in the reason these seasoned seafarers felt uneasy.

“No abnormalities in our course! The wind is a bit strong, but there’s no problem!” The voice of the lookout stationed atop the mast echoed through the speaking tube. Upon hearing those words, Johan Sturm, who had been studying nautical charts in the wheelhouse, breathed a sigh of relief.

Such a reaction was natural for someone who bore the responsibility of a captain. Ultimately, a voyage was always fraught with danger. If a storm struck in the middle of the vast ocean, there was little a human could do aside from praying to the gods. The situation was a matter of doing everything within human capability and leaving the rest to fate. And that reality had not changed much, even in the modern world, where science and technology had advanced significantly. Even massive tankers, stretching hundreds of meters in length, could still succumb to bad weather and sink. This situation proved that even the greatest ships built by human hands were insignificant before the overwhelming power of nature. That truth remained unchanged, even for the Organization’s latest state-of-the-art vessel that combined the technologies of both Rearth and Earth. The difference in navigational difficulty between modern Rearth, where real-time satellite data was available, and the Earth was like night and day.

Without satellite data, deep-sea voyages rely entirely on astronomy and meteorology. I’m not unfamiliar with those fields, and I wouldn’t say I lack confidence. But it’s undeniable that this is an entirely different challenge, Captain Sturm mused.

Captain Sturm was a veteran sailor who had once been entrusted with operating massive oil tankers for a Norwegian shipping company. Throughout his long career, he had faced countless challenges. He encountered equipment failures amid harsh weather conditions. Yet, he had always overcome them with his keen instincts and decisive judgment. His skills as a sailor were nothing short of exceptional.

Even for a captain as skilled as Sturm, navigating the seas of Earth was no easy task. His experiences sailing without modern technology had only occurred due to unexpected accidents piling up. It wasn’t as if he had ever set out on a voyage knowing that his equipment would be unusable from the start. Those situations had simply been a matter of misfortune. Had he detected a critical equipment failure during a predeparture inspection, no matter what the shipping company executives said, Captain Sturm would have postponed the voyage until the issue was fully resolved.

If a convenient and safe method exists, there’s no reason to deliberately avoid using it.

Sailing had always been a life-and-death endeavor, regardless of the era. In the modern world, personal smartphones and satellite phones made it easy to determine one’s location at any time. Almost no one relied on celestial navigation and paper charts alone anymore. That was why sailing on Earth, where modern technological conveniences were unavailable, was so perilous.

And the weather isn’t the only thing to be wary of. There are creatures larger than whales. Pirates who raid ships for cargo and slaves. This world’s seas are filled with dangers.

Piracy still existed in the modern world, particularly in regions like Southeast Asia and the east coast of Africa, occasionally making headlines. However, the frequency of such incidents on Earth was incomparable. If modern-world piracy were rated at a one on a scale of one to a hundred, the threat on Earth would be no less than a hundred. There were no statistics here to make an exact comparison, but based on Captain Sturm’s personal experience, it would be more accurate to say that piracy in this world occurred at rates hundreds of times higher.

I had hoped we could at least complete the development of sonar and fish-finders before embarking on our maiden voyage. Considering the burden on the development team, that was probably asking for too much...

Captain Sturm was well aware that the engineers in the development department worked tirelessly through the night to re-create modern technology. The idea of “reproducing modern technology on Earth” was conceptually straightforward. At a glance, it even seemed like an easy task because they already knew exactly what the finished product should look like. Compared to developing something entirely from scratch, it was natural to assume the process would be easier. Imagination and reality were two very different things. In practice, re-creating modern technology required an immense amount of effort and time. Most critically, there was a severe lack of human resources.

Well, it’s not like only those with engineering backgrounds were selectively summoned to Earth. In hindsight, this was inevitable.

With enough effort, even a complete novice could become a capable warrior if they were young and physically fit. But turning someone without any aptitude into a functional engineer was far more difficult. As a result, the Organization’s so-called Development Department was constantly understaffed. Under the Organization’s guiding principle of “creating a better tomorrow,” the engineers devoted themselves to their work, sacrificing their own well-being for the cause. It all had one purpose—to reduce the number of people forcibly summoned to this nightmarish world and minimize the suffering of those who had already been brought here. As a senior member of the Organization, Captain Sturm found it difficult to make unreasonable demands.

We could easily wipe out a horde of pirates with this ship if they were to swarm us. After all, “Boreas” not only refers to the god of the wind but also carries the meaning of “the devourer.”

The Boreas was neither a cargo ship nor a pleasure vessel. At its core, it was a battleship. It was the first of its kind, developed to enhance naval combat capabilities in preparation for the Organization’s full-scale expansion into maritime operations. Naturally, the massive hull of the Boreas was equipped with numerous concealed weapons inspired by modern technology, all waiting for the day they could demonstrate their overwhelming power and crush the people of Earth. If one looked across the entire world, no vessel could compare to the Boreas in terms of performance.

The only real downside is the astronomical cost of construction.

After all, a single Boreas-class ship required an investment of no less than a million gold coins. That was, quite literally, the equivalent of a small nation’s annual budget.

Given that the Organization holds influence over the entire western continent, its economic power is immense. If the question is whether we can afford to fund the construction of these ships, the answer is undoubtedly yes.

Still, there was no denying that such a sum was enough to cause hesitation before committing to building a sister ship. The approval of the elders would be required to authorize a project of this magnitude, at the very least. But setting aside the matter of the high cost, the simple fact was that the Boreas was Earth’s strongest and most advanced ship.

A single Boreas might very well be able to go toe-to-toe with the Kingdom of Myest, the most powerful naval force on the western continent, Captain Sturm thought. There was absolutely no reason to deliberately seek out danger when it could be avoided. Recklessly throwing oneself into danger just because of a ship’s capabilities is nothing short of foolishness. No matter how advanced a vessel may be, there is no such thing as absolute safety.

Even the Titanic—the most luxurious passenger liner of its time and hailed as an “unsinkable” ship—had met its end after colliding with an iceberg. Despite its exceptional safety standards, even by modern-day engineering assessments, it had still sunk due to human error. Keeping that in mind, Captain Sturm raised his voice toward the speaking tube.

“Good work, but stay on alert. You already know this, but he is aboard for this voyage.”

“Understood! You got it, sir!” a sailor said. With that firm and energetic reply, the communication fell silent.

The sailor had likely returned to his watch duty, following orders without question. To the crew, this was simply routine discipline. After all, acknowledging an order and carrying it out was the natural duty of a sailor. Despite his crew’s usual confident and energetic response, Captain Sturm couldn’t help but feel that their voices sounded strangely superficial. That, more than anything, was proof that he himself was not in his usual state of mind.

It seems I am not as calm as I’d like to believe. With a deep sigh, Captain Sturm reflected on the weight on his shoulders. After all, the fate of this ship and everyone aboard rested entirely on his decisions. That’s right... I cannot afford to make a mistake. Not while he is on board.

If anything unexpected were to happen, it wouldn’t just shake the foundation of their Organization—it could very well tear it apart entirely.

We’d be lucky if a mere tremor were all we had to worry about. In the worst case, it could lead to total collapse.

After all, he was the very linchpin that held the elders together. Their Organization spanned the entire western continent, yet that vast scale came with countless internal struggles. At the center of it all was the man standing outside the window. It was debatable whether the term “elderly man” truly suited him. Visibly, he appeared to be in his mid-to-late sixties. Some might even guess he was only in his fifties. Of course, his white hair and matching beard gave him the look of an older man. And the cane in his right hand certainly hinted at his age.

The prana radiating from the elderly man’s body completely contradicted the visual information.

At the very least, no one would guess he’s nearly a centenarian, thought Captain Sturm. Individual differences alone could not explain this miracle. It’s not entirely impossible to fake an appearance...

In the modern world, cosmetic surgery had advanced remarkably. Additionally, with special makeup techniques used in movies, a young person could disguise themselves as someone over a hundred years old. But that was only about appearance. No matter how much one might disguise their looks, the spark of life that belonged to youth inevitably faded over time, and it was nearly impossible to completely hide that. The inevitable truth of aging would emerge if the facade ever faltered. Humankind had yet to escape the grasp of aging. But this elderly man existed outside that natural law. While his appearance was that of an old man, the air emanating from his body remained full of the vitality of youth.

That appearance was an extreme contradiction and a miracle that modern technology could never accomplish. However, in this world, such miracles could become reality. Just the fact of this would make many feel envious.

Of course, not everyone will have the privilege of experiencing it.

Perhaps privilege wasn’t quite the right word. To properly describe the situation, it might have been more accurate to call it a curse rather than anything else. The source of the radiance of life emanating from the elderly man was the undeniable proof that he had killed countless creatures with his own hands.

If he weren’t such a person, he could never have risen to become one of the highest-ranking officials in the massive Organization that spanned across the entire western continent.

As one of the elders of the Organization, his position and power were immense. The Organization itself was a covert entity, hidden from the eyes of ordinary people. In terms of influence, it could have surpassed the kings of the independent nations scattered across the western continent. Moreover, the elderly man before him was exceptional even among the elders. He was a particularly revered figure within the Organization, known as Lord Liu, a person to be respected.

The issue was the fact that such a powerful figure was aboard the Boreas. Lord Liu, who was supposed to oversee the southwest of the western continent, was extremely busy. On top of that, Lord Liu had the added responsibility of monitoring the activities of the Church of Meneos, which was considered the Organization’s archenemy.

I wonder why suddenly he decided to head to Pherzaad... Knowing him, it’s unlikely it’s just a whim.

Originally, the Boreas’s maiden voyage was supposed to occur somewhere closer to her home port. Following an order from Lord Liu, the plan was suddenly changed to a long-distance voyage all the way to the trading city of Pherzaad in the eastern part of the western continent. In terms of gaining experience, the journey to Pherzaad was not a bad idea at all. However, they would be taking on great risks. Regardless of Lord Liu’s reasoning, Captain Sturm’s responsibility remained unchanged.

Well, it doesn’t matter. Two-thirds of the journey is already over. In three days, we’ll be near the waters of Pherzaad. All I have to do is hand over Lord Liu to the person sent from the Pherzaad branch at the rendezvous point, and my mission will be complete. Just a few more days, and if nothing happens, it’ll be over.

Captain Sturm once again turned his gaze back to the sea chart and prayed to the god he believed in for this voyage to safely come to an end. He tightly gripped the cross pendant hanging from his neck. Even if that god was a lazy one who hadn’t stopped him from being summoned to this hellish world, there was no one else to rely on.

While Captain Sturm was lost in such thoughts, the elderly man stood at the bow of the ship, his heart elated by the salty wind brushing against his skin.

A sea voyage isn’t so bad, mused Lord Liu Daijin.

He was usually confined to one of the Organization’s secret hideouts set up in the city of Lentencia. Of course, his daily life was unaffected. But at the same time, he wasn’t free to feel the wind on his skin directly. Given his position as one of the Organization’s elders, that was to be expected. Still, it was a natural feeling for a person to occasionally yearn for freedom. It was likely because he usually had little freedom that those fleeting moments he could occasionally seize felt like treasures.

“Even so, the sun is a bit too strong today. A little shade wouldn’t be bad. On days like this, I wish I had an air conditioner,” Lord Liu muttered, looking at the sun shining brilliantly in the sky through his round glasses that acted as sunglasses. “Shall I order the development of one next time?”

However, Lord Liu quickly discarded such a thought.

Developing air-conditioning equipment would by no means be a difficult task for the Organization. They employed engineers who had managed to build an information network in this land where scientific technology did not exist. While it was an information network, it was certainly a small-scale network compared to the modern-day internet. In terms of image, it resembled directly connecting terminals with LAN cables for communication.

Considering that the internet was a global information network, the scale of their network was so modest that comparing the two would be rather presumptuous. However, the fact remained that this modest information network brought about dramatic changes in the operations of adventurer guilds and banks. As a result, the advantages it created greatly increased the power of the Organization. In a world where only means like smoke signals or carrier pigeons existed for communication, one could consider the network a technology beyond human wisdom. Moreover, the research handled by the Organization’s development department was not limited to the field of information communications but extended into various areas such as pharmacology and engineering.

It is thanks to the engineers’ efforts and dedication that this ship was successfully constructed.

At first glance, this ship appeared to be nothing more than a sailing ship. Though it differed slightly in shape from the typical galleon ships commonly seen on Earth, it was ultimately still just that. The ship’s enormous size made it stand out, but that was merely a judgment based on its sheer scale. Even when it docked at a port in the western continent, it was virtually impossible to deduce its secrets from its outward appearance, as it was intentionally built that way. Unlike its outward appearance, its interior was something far removed from the common sense of Earth. This ship was the first in this world to be equipped with an internal combustion engine. More precisely, it was a hybrid ship equipped with sails and steam power.

To ensure it could sail against the wind, it also carried personnel to use wind thaumaturgy to send wind to the sails. That was why it could achieve speeds that were impossible for a regular sailing ship. Currently, the crew members who had mastered wind thaumaturgy were not only sending wind to the sails but also supplying prana to activate the screw mounted beneath the stern. This was a testament to how they had successfully applied Rearth’s knowledge and elevated it to a practical level in this land, which only possessed the level of medieval European science and technology. The elderly man understood that, given the proper funding and time, it would be entirely possible for them to develop air-conditioning equipment. However, the question of priorities was more important than whether something could be created. When he thought about it, there was little reason to prioritize the development of air-conditioning.

After all, it is possible to live without air-conditioning...

Of course, developing it would undoubtedly be better in terms of comfort. However, in this world, the value of weapons that could efficiently kill people far outweighed the need for convenience goods that would raise living standards. It was certainly not a desirable situation.

That said, it’s an undeniable fact that the advancement of humanity has always been intertwined with war. Ultimately, humans are only human. We live by hating and fighting one another. It’s a foolish and tragic reality...

While it would be wonderful if there were another path, Liu Daijin was convinced that such an option didn’t exist. This conclusion was drawn from nearly a century of life experience.

But perhaps that’s why, at times, I long to see a different path. Even I think it’s contradictory.

In the end, human beings were pitiful creatures who could not abandon their ideals no matter how old they got. It seemed that even someone at the pinnacle of their kind, like Liu Daijin, remained unchanged by such things.

At that moment, a presence appeared behind Liu Daijin. Perhaps the presence had been hiding so as not to disturb Liu Daijin as he enjoyed the sea breeze. The stealth thaumaturgy used was remarkably skillful and precise, so it almost felt as if the person had materialized out of thin air.

“The sea breeze may be harmful to your health. It would be better to return to your cabin soon.”

The voice was beautiful, like the chime of a delicate bell. Was she an excellent bodyguard, or perhaps someone trained as an assassin? In either case, the owner of this voice could undoubtedly be called highly skilled. Most people would be startled if suddenly addressed from behind, even if the person were their bodyguard.

However, Liu Daijin’s voice held no hint of surprise when he responded. This meant that he was either already aware of her presence or fully trusted her.

“Ruqaiya... I ordered you not to treat me like an old man, did I not?”

As he turned around, Liu Daijin’s gaze landed on Ruqaiya Redouane, his bodyguard and secretary. She was a beautiful woman who looked like she was of Arabian descent, with chiseled features and slightly curly chestnut hair. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties. At first glance, she could easily be mistaken for someone in her twenties, thanks to her youthful and radiant complexion. However, only someone who had reached a certain level of maturity could exude the seductive aura that she did.

“I have certainly received your orders... However...” Ruqaiya bowed deeply, though it seemed she did not intend to meekly accept Liu Dajin’s objections.

Although her expression was hidden by the bow, Liu Daijin could still sense the firmness of her will, likely due to the seriousness Ruqaiya Redouane possessed. And that seriousness was evident in her attitude toward Liu Daijin as well. One could easily guess this just by looking at her attire. Despite the strong sunlight, Ruqaiya was wearing extremely formal butler’s attire, complete with a tailcoat. If asked whether this formal wear was suitable for a sea voyage, one could raise some doubts. Of course, it was not that she did not look good in her tailcoat. Most people would likely offer positive evaluations; she truly gave off the air of a beautiful woman in men’s clothing. That didn’t change the fact that the outfit looked somewhat stuffy.

It’s because of the strong sunlight. Liu Daijin felt that she could have dressed more casually, and he had told Ruqaiya as much. A tank top and jeans wouldn’t do, but...

There should have been plenty of other options. Nevertheless, Ruqaiya stubbornly continued to wear the tailcoat.

She has no need to imitate Zheng to that extent. Well, it might be unavoidable, given Ruqaiya’s position.

Liu Daijin honestly wished Ruqaiya would relax a bit more, although that was merely his desire. Ruqaiya had been appointed as his bodyguard and secretary by the manager who ruled over the underworld of the city of Lentencia, a change in status comparable to a convenience store manager being promoted to a CEO’s secretary. From her perspective, it was nothing less than a huge promotion. No matter how much her superior, Liu Daijin, urged her to relax, she simply couldn’t help but be rigid.

Additionally, the fact that her predecessor, Zheng Motoku, had been one of the most brilliant minds in the Organization was certainly not irrelevant. For Ruqaiya, she simply couldn’t allow Zheng to see her as inferior to him. As a result, she focused on safety, leading to a more rigid approach.

“Do I need to say it?”

“As long as I serve you... I’ve been instructed by Master Zheng to make sure nothing is overlooked.”

Upon hearing those words, Liu Daijin smirked. “Zheng is a capable and trustworthy man, but he’s painfully cautious. Also, he’s a bit too rigid, which is a problem... I’ll have to say something to him the next time we meet.”

A person who had reached the limit of their kind, like Liu Daijin, would enter a realm where their body was enhanced to a level far beyond that of ordinary humans. This enhancement was not limited to just muscle strength or bone density; it extended to the internal organs and each individual cell. In fact, they could ingest a small amount of poison and not die. Their liver and kidneys were enhanced to such an extreme degree that they neutralized the poison. If someone were to attempt to poison such an individual, they would need something powerful enough to affect even a dragon, or they would have to force-feed the poison in large quantities. The same applied to the immune system, which could defend against bacteria and viruses. While things like biological weapons that had artificially enhanced potency might pose a problem, Liu Daijin’s body would have no trouble with diseases that arose naturally.

There’s no way I, as an Attainer, would fall ill just from exposure to the sea breeze. Nevertheless, Liu Daijin understood his position and knew better than to push himself too far. He could impose his will and take command of the ship, but he also grasped that doing so would inconvenience many people. He was not foolish enough to act just for the sake of his own desires. Also, if I force my way, I’ll have to pay the price somewhere.

What mattered was whether the need to push forward justified the cost that had to be paid.

With that understanding, Liu Daijin only said, “I see... Let’s return to the wardroom, then. But in exchange, make sure to brew some delicious tea.”

“Yes, it has already been prepared. I’ve made some Fuyukiran tea for today.”

Lord Liu laughed at those words.

“Just as expected... Hmm. Well then, let’s taste the tea that Ruqaiya has chosen for me,” he said, glancing over his shoulder and confirming the blue sky before him. “Hmm... As expected, the weather is good. We should arrive in Pherzaad as scheduled. From there, the next thing to do will be to wait for a response to the letter I sent and see how Koichiro’s grandson acts.”

If Koichiro and Ryoma were to ignore Lord Liu’s suggestion, he could accept it without much trouble. It had been a long time since he had breathed in the outside air, so he wasn’t angry about Koichiro and Ryoma ignoring his suggestion in the letter.

On the other hand, Ryoma Mikoshiba agreeing to a discussion wouldn’t have been such a bad outcome either. At the very least, it would be a blessing to see the face of an old friend’s grandson in person.

“It’s up to him to choose either option. Still, I would prefer if he agreed to a discussion. I certainly don’t want to kill the grandson of an old friend, after all.”

Subsequently, Lord Liu followed Ruqaiya toward the stairs that led to his cabin. As he did so, he wished that this journey would bring new vitality to the Organization.

Chapter 1: Those in the Shadows

Gloomy clouds covered the skies, almost as if they were an omen of what was to come.

The weather was so nice yesterday... I’m about to go meet Her Majesty Radine, but the conditions aren’t the best, thought Ryoma.

A corner of the royal castle towered over the capital city of Pireas. Ryoma sighed deeply as he idled in the office assigned to the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy’s representative, waiting until his meeting with Radine. What must his state of mind have been? It would be an exaggeration to say that he felt like he was sitting on a bed of nails, but he was clearly uncomfortable. That, however, was unavoidable. After all, the upcoming meeting was meant to report the results of the expedition to aid the Kingdom of Myest and discuss future countermeasures. Of course, the letters Ryoma had sent ahead already conveyed a certain amount of information.

If that were not the case, Radine Rhoadserians would never have gone out of her way to make an official declaration to the kingdom’s nobility, stating that “Ryoma Mikoshiba will continue to be entrusted with full authority.”

Even so, that did not mean the report was complete. Thinking that would be utterly naive. A report from Ryoma, the very person who had drafted the rescue plan and personally led the expedition, would be required.

Besides, I haven’t communicated everything yet.

The most urgent matters had been included in the letters he had sent to Radine, but that did not mean he had communicated everything to her. In particular, his report had been lacking regarding events following his return from the expedition to the Kingdom of Myest. For instance, his explanation about establishing cooperative relations with the Manibhadra tribe had been rather brief.

Although I’ve reached a general agreement with Rahizya and Harisha, formalizing the treaty with the Manibhadra tribe will likely require Queen Radine’s approval.

Naturally, the chances of completely resetting negotiations were slim at this point, but that did not mean there would be no changes, especially regarding the provision of supplies.

Determining the extent of aid is a difficult matter. I doubt Queen Radine will oppose my judgment at this stage... But that doesn’t mean it would be wise for me to make decisions entirely on my own. At the very least, I should avoid being seen that way. Given my current position as a vassal of the Kingdom of Rhoadseria...

For decision-making, it would have been undeniably faster for Ryoma Mikoshiba to make the call independently. In other words, this was what they called unilateral action. One could even describe it as a form of dictatorship.

The Kingdom of Rhoadseria had formally integrated the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy. While the wording might be somewhat misleading, in practical terms, Ryoma Mikoshiba had undeniably determined the kingdom’s future. From that perspective, it was not entirely wrong for Ryoma to have made decisions during his meeting with Harisha without consulting Radine. Yet, such unilateral action would have inevitably invited criticism from those around him.

In fact, Charlotte and the others mentioned this in their reports as well.

Charlotte Halcyon, along with other noble ladies, was responsible for intelligence operations within the aristocratic society of the Kingdom of Rhoadseria. Their primary objective was to prevent the incompetent Rhoadserian nobles, consumed by their hatred for Ryoma Mikoshiba, from recklessly erupting into violence.

Honestly, I’d rather just wipe out those troublesome fools entirely.

By nature, Ryoma Mikoshiba was a cold and decisive individual. Moreover, he was the type to stubbornly cling to his sense of justice. If anything, he truly believed that incompetent nobles should simply be eradicated. He would not have hesitated to draw his sword if given the opportunity. As far as he was concerned, dealing with such nobles swiftly and efficiently would be the best course of action. Many were not merely incompetent; in fact, they were far worse than simple bunglers. These nobles were parasites, inflicting oppressive rule upon their subjects while indulging themselves. Such creatures infested the Kingdom of Rhoadseria in great numbers.

For better or worse, this was likely because the Kingdom of Rhoadseria had, unusually for this world, enjoyed peace without being caught up in any major wars.

Of course, that did not mean war had never occurred at all. Most of those conflicts had happened beyond the kingdom’s borders or along the frontier. Simply put, the powerful noble factions that controlled key cities such as the royal capital of Pireas and the southern stronghold of Heraklion had largely been spared from the ravages of war. Additionally, the vast and fertile lands nourished by the River Thebes had long protected the people of Rhoadseria from famine. Even without much effort, the land yielded a stable harvest. For those engaged in agriculture, it was nothing short of a paradise and a gift from the gods.

And yet, it is an ironic twist of fate that this very abundance led the nobility to become decadent and squander their political power.

If gods truly existed, surely they would cast divine punishment upon such foolish aristocrats. Or perhaps they would merely weep at the depth of human greed and folly.

Plenty of these nobles still sought an opportunity to eliminate Ryoma. After all, he was a mercenary of dubious origins who had risen through the ranks to become an archduke—the highest-ranking noble in the Kingdom of Rhoadseria. It was the very definition of rising to the pinnacle of power.

Furthermore, the Wortenia Peninsula—a land once abandoned by all and known as a demon-infested land—had undergone an economic transformation, developing into one of the foremost trading hubs on the western continent. Incompetent nobles, who were so consumed by their bloated sense of entitlement that they genuinely believed nothing in this world could defy their will, saw it as nothing more than an eyesore.

From their perspective, my very existence must be infuriating beyond reason.

On the surface, the nobles pretended to submit out of fear of Ryoma Mikoshiba’s military strength. Deep down, they were merely biding their time for the perfect opportunity to drag him down. Although Ryoma knew this, he had thus far refrained from making any overt moves against these nobles. At most, he had ordered Charlotte, the other noblewomen, and the Igasaki clan to keep a close watch on their activities.

Considering Ryoma’s usual nature, such an approach could be described as remarkably passive and restrained.

Until I build up enough national strength to consolidate the Kingdom of Rhoadseria, eliminating the nobles is out of the question.

Indeed, the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy was one of the most influential noble families in existence. Even beyond the western continent, only a handful of noble houses could rival it. Within the aristocracy of the Kingdom of Rhoadseria, it was undeniably the largest and most powerful entity. Though it was vast as a noble house, from the perspective of a nation, it still remained within the realm of the weak.

In terms of economic power alone, it may already rival the Kingdom of Rhoadseria...

But economic strength alone could not sustain a nation. A true nation required more than wealth; it needed military power, diplomatic influence, agricultural production, and a sufficient population to support its foundation. At present, the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy severely lacked everything aside from economic and military strength. Concerning population, it was among the worst in the known world.

As things stand, the Wortenia Peninsula doesn’t even have a proper civilian population to begin with.

Historically, the region known as the Wortenia Peninsula had been feared as a demonic land, overrun by powerful monsters. For years, the Kingdom of Rhoadseria had all but abandoned it, using it as a penal colony for criminals. The only people who voluntarily ventured into the peninsula were adventurers seeking rare medicinal herbs and other valuable materials. However, pirates had taken up residence there in recent years, further severing Wortenia from the Kingdom of Rhoadseria’s governance.

When Ryoma Mikoshiba was granted the Wortenia Peninsula as his domain, its population was literally zero. Forget tax revenue—there wasn’t even stable food production.

For now, the only people who could be called subjects of the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy were the inhabitants of the recently recognized fortress city of Epirus and the people from the northern regions of the Kingdom of Rhoadseria who had lived in the surrounding areas. Due to the war against Count Salzberg—the former lord of Epirus and leader of the northern nobles—and the schemes Ryoma employed to fend off Queen Lupis’s northern subjugation campaign, the northern region was nearly in ruins. Ever since the northern territories were officially recognized as his domain, Ryoma had invested significant funds into internal development. But Epirus, which had been the heart of the northern region, had been nearly burned to the ground by the incendiary attack Ryoma had unleashed against the northern subjugation army. As a result, reconstruction efforts had been painfully slow. If anyone else could be considered subjects of the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy, it might be Nelcius and his people. Regardless of how one looked at it, the population was overwhelmingly insufficient for the sheer size of the territory.

In this situation, even if Ryoma Mikoshiba could seize control of the Kingdom of Rhoadseria and establish the so-called “Kingdom of Mikoshiba,” it was evident he would struggle to manage it.

That’s precisely why I accepted Charlotte and the others as vassals...

Figures such as Helena Steiner, Prime Minister Diggle McMaster, and even Queen Radine Rhoadserians—the ruler of the Kingdom of Rhoadseria—openly supported Ryoma Mikoshiba. Because of this, there had been no overt criticism directed at him so far. Though considerable dissatisfaction was brewing in the shadows, things appeared calm on the surface. Nonetheless, it was uncertain how long this uneasy peace would last.

Even those nobles have their limits when it comes to patience, especially since I went a little overboard this time.

In other words, it was only a matter of time before their “last straw” was reached. Given the generally poor self-restraint of these nobles, their tolerance threshold was unlikely to be very high. That was precisely why noblewomen like Charlotte Halcyon, who provided insight into the growing discontent among the aristocracy, were so necessary.

At least in this instance, the nobles’ criticisms and grievances toward Ryoma were entirely justified. Regardless of his intentions, his actions had undeniably been excessive in terms of unilateral decision-making.

Hearing words like “arbitrary rule” or “dictator” doesn’t exactly inspire a positive image.

Rather than saying nobles lacked a positive image, it would have been more accurate to say they carried a distinctly negative one. When people heard the term “arbitrary rule,” most associated it with selfishness, self-centeredness, obstinacy, or cruelty. Or perhaps, one could call it a lack of cooperativeness. With terms like “dictator” or “dictatorship,” the image became even worse. Such words inevitably conjured up visions of tyrants ruling as they pleased, oppressing the people and causing suffering. The phrases “unilateral decision-making” and “dictator” were always accompanied by these negative connotations.

After all, in dramas, the trope of subordinates being forced to endure the whims of an overbearing CEO is quite common, and there’s no shortage of movies depicting heroes fighting against oppressive dictators.

Even Ryoma enjoyed that genre of film and drama, so it was impossible for him not to feel some degree of discomfort at behaving like one of those antagonists. Beyond that, he had bitter memories associated with the idea of unilateral decision-making. After all, he had personally suffered the consequences of Lupis Rhoadserians’s autocratic rule.

A prime example of this would be when Lupis unilaterally accepted the allegiance of the noble faction during the civil war or when she arbitrarily granted me a noble title and exiled me to the Wortenia Peninsula.

Thus, Ryoma harbored a negative perception of unilateral decision-making and dictatorship. Despite understanding this, he had made various promises during his meeting with Harisha, which was a glaring contradiction.

However, unilateral action is undeniably the best approach when considering the speed of decision-making, Ryoma thought, despite knowing it might not have been the most desirable method. But there were situations where only such an approach could resolve an issue. This was particularly true in times of crisis, such as natural disasters or war, when immediate action was required. After all, if a fire breaks out, no one would be foolish enough to hold a discussion before starting to extinguish the flames.

In such urgent scenarios, a leader had to make a decision, and their subordinates had to follow it—this was the essence of top-down command. For better or worse, in terms of efficiency alone, unilateral decision-making was the fastest method. But it was far from ideal when viewed from the perspective of correctness. Consulting with others and sharing information were crucial steps in ensuring that a decision was objectively sound.

There are countless instances where one believes they have the right answer, only to realize their mistake after considering another person’s perspective. Even so, there were many situations in life where speed was more critical than correctness. Ryoma could not say for sure which approach was truly right. Well, it ultimately depends on the situation.

Moreover, the benefits of consulting with others and sharing information extended beyond merely verifying the correctness of one’s own decisions.

One must also consider how smoothly things proceed when relevant parties are informed in advance.

This principle applied to business meetings and even simple matters, such as whether one would be home for dinner. A single word of advance notice could prevent unnecessary friction. Of course, Ryoma had never worked in a corporate setting. Given that he was summoned to this world as a high school student, that much was expected. Nevertheless, he was not entirely ignorant of organizational management and recognized its essential principles.

Reporting, informing, consulting... What could also be termed “keeping others in the know.”

Naturally, this was theoretical knowledge gained through books, movies, and dramas. Most people placed greater trust in firsthand experience rather than theoretical knowledge. Indeed, there were countless instances where something learned in theory did not translate effectively into real-world application.

And when it comes to governing a nation, if this world is a primitive land bound by rigid social hierarchies, modern knowledge won’t necessarily apply.

Theoretical knowledge was not entirely useless, though. Even if it could not be applied directly, a simple shift in perspective made it adaptable in many cases. In other words, it all depended on how one used it, and the concept of putting the right person in the right place applied here. In fact, the success of Ryoma Mikoshiba in establishing and maintaining the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy until today proved this. The theoretical knowledge accumulated within Ryoma gradually became part of his practical experience as he dealt with various real-world problems. From this viewpoint, knowledge never betrayed a person. Ryoma’s knowledge clearly showed that people generally did not view independent decision-making as favorable. However, it was usually the best method in emergency situations. The problem was that there were many harmful side effects.

The particularly scary part is how easily it can provoke resentment from others.

People were more likely to feel neglected when not given information in advance. At the very least, communicating a decision without prior discussion would likely leave no one satisfied. Even when decisions were communicated, whether people opposed or resisted them was another matter. In fact, most people would not openly express dissatisfaction. The majority might simply reply, “Ah, I see. Understood,” and move on. However, even if they did not express their discontent outwardly, there would always be a lingering sense of dissatisfaction somewhere in their hearts. That dissatisfaction, though accumulating slowly, would inevitably build up over time like dust accumulating in a neglected room. Eventually, that buildup would inevitably bring about retaliation.

It could be said that I am overthinking things, and that would be true. However, people cannot truly understand others or see into their hearts, thought Ryoma, recognizing that constant consideration was necessary. Perfect handling was impossible, but there was no doubt that obvious dangers should be avoided. Well, that said, overdoing the consideration is also a problem.

In reality, considering the dissatisfaction of the Kingdom of Rhoadseria’s nobles and making prior arrangements had not been practical. The number of nobles involved had been too large, and they had had no intention of cooperating with Ryoma. Even if he had explained the situation beforehand and sincerely asked for their cooperation, they would not have granted it. Of course, on the surface, they would have expressed their willingness to collaborate with him.

All those nobles would probably have greeted me with broad smiles and shaken my hand. There are enemies within the Kingdom of Rhoadseria as well... That has been difficult.

Behind those smiles, they would have been thinking about using the information to sabotage Ryoma.

The phrase “the nail that sticks out gets hammered down” accurately described the situation. In addition, the issue with the expedition to the Kingdom of Myest was that it had nearly been a defeat. Thus, Ryoma’s heavy mood was understandable.

However, this has been a difficult situation to read... Who has been an ally, and who has been an enemy?

The problem had been that the situation on the Kingdom of Myest’s side had changed significantly before and after the expedition. In particular, the unexpected attack on King Philip by a mysterious group and his resulting death, which led to his half brother Owen Spiegel ascending to the throne, had been something that Ryoma Mikoshiba had not anticipated at all.

Alexis Duran, the strongest of the three generals that the Kingdom of Myest prided itself on, backed the new king. Ever since the ascension of King Owen, the allied forces of the Kingdom of Brittantia and the Kingdom of Tarja, who had been attacking the fortress city of Jermuk, had ceased their advance. According to the information that Ryoma Mikoshiba had obtained, reports suggested that the allied forces and the Kingdom of Myest were attempting to negotiate peace. However, King Owen had not clarified his stance toward the Kingdom of Rhoadseria. He had remained silent regarding Ryoma Mikoshiba’s sudden retreat from Myest. The rumor that Ryoma was the mastermind behind the assassination of King Philip, which had been circulating initially, had somehow faded over time. Of course, Ryoma had never plotted King Philip’s assassination. But once a rumor spread, it was difficult to make it disappear.

Under normal circumstances, one would expect a messenger to be sent to declare a break in relations. But the Kingdom of Myest had not made any clear indication of hostility, which is also suspicious. At present, the Kingdom of Myest was still officially part of the four-kingdom alliance. Ryoma Mikoshiba would need to confirm this information with Queen Radine. Even if that proves true, it doesn’t mean I can consider the Kingdom of Myest as an ally.

The more Ryoma thought about it, the more his head began to ache.

If there was any consolation, it was that I withdrew my troops before any open hostilities with Myest’s army led by Alexis Duran. So, the damage to my side was minimal.

Despite the minimal troop loss, Ryoma was forced to reveal some of the trump cards he had been keeping hidden for future use on the actual battlefield. This was a significant loss in terms of technological secrecy.

If we used the communication capabilities of Wezalié’s Whisper or the enhanced view of the Eyes of Meneos, it would be unlikely that the enemy would recognize either tool’s functions even if they witnessed its use. That applied even if the enemy had witnessed their use.

However, something like a balloon was much more conspicuous.

Since the reconnaissance had been done from quite a high altitude, it wasn’t likely that its presence would be detected immediately. Even if it had been noticed, the chances of it being easily replicated were low.

After all, this was a world without scientific technology. Even if someone attempted to replicate it, doing so would likely take plenty of time without the foundational technology or knowledge. Ryoma believed the chances of such an attempt failing halfway through were high. Conversely, anything that humans could imagine might eventually be created. It wouldn’t be an easy path, but the possibility was far from zero.

Some studies suggest that the two muskets bought from the Southern Barbarians who washed up on Tanegashima eventually led to domestic production. By the end of the Warring States period, Japan was said to have boasted the largest number of muskets in the world.

Of course, how accurate that research was remained unknown. There was no solid evidence to either confirm or deny it. History, after all, was about inferring the past based on the available materials from that time. Despite starting with two muskets, they had grown in number and became a vital weapon on the battlefield by the end of the Warring States period. If there were actual objects to reference, imitation would be easier. Given the lack of models, it would be premature to assume that the people of Earth would successfully develop items like balloons or binoculars just from having glimpsed them.

The Warring States period in Japan and the world of Earth are different in many respects... Even if imitation were possible, it wasn’t guaranteed that they would be able to produce them in large numbers.

As long as there was even a chance, caution was necessary. Naturally, the level of civilization on Earth was far from high. While there were some exceptions, knowledge and cultural levels were comparable to or even below that of medieval Europe. The strict class system widened the gap between the commoners and the nobles. In such a situation, it was realistic to say that the inheritance and development of technology would be difficult.

Basic studies, literacy rates, and cultural sophistication show that Japan was superior to this world during the Warring States period. Ryoma did not mean to unfairly disparage the world of the Earth or unduly elevate his homeland of Japan. This evaluation was likely based on pure, objective facts. And that was only natural. After all, Japan’s neighbor was China, one of the four great ancient civilizations and a superpower in its own right.

The modern-day People’s Republic of China, commonly known as China, differed from the dynasties that had once existed on the continent.

More accurately, China was something else entirely. This was noticeable from the end of the mythological era known as the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors, starting with the Xia dynasty, which was considered the oldest dynasty in Chinese history. In the present, the provinces on the Chinese mainland boasted the world’s highest standards of culture and population, making them superpowers. If asked to list the technologies invented by the Chinese, Ryoma could immediately name several.

Paper and gunpowder were Chinese inventions, and I believe the compass was too.

In the historical text Hou Han Shu, or Book of the Later Han, a record stated that a person named Cai Lun invented paper and presented it to the emperor, who called it Cai Hou paper. However, the expression “invented” could be somewhat misleading.

Cai Lun was a high-ranking eunuch. Moreover, he was apparently a Zhongchangshi who served beside the emperor. It was unlikely that such a person would actually make paper.

A eunuch was a man who had undergone castration to prevent illicit affairs, and they mainly served in the emperor’s harem, where women were kept, as these areas were off-limits to men. When Japanese people unfamiliar with Chinese history heard the word eunuch, they might tilt their heads in confusion. The eunuch system was present in countries within the Chinese cultural sphere, such as Korea and Vietnam, as well as Middle Eastern countries like Turkey. However, the system of eunuchs did not exist in Japan. Because Japan was part of the same East Asian cultural sphere, it wasn’t definitive that the system had never been used in Japan, but at least it wasn’t widely recognized by the general public.

When Japanese people heard the word “eunuch,” most would probably think of the Ten Eunuchs from the Romance of the Three Kingdoms. Those men were corrupt, manipulated power, and engaged in conspiracies to ruin others. If compared to figures in period dramas, eunuchs might be seen as a type of villainous magistrate. Of course, this image is merely a product of the imagination of later generations who did not know the true nature of eunuchs. While Chinese historical texts often portrayed eunuchs as villains, this was not the whole picture.

For example, a man named Zheng He became a hero known for his voyages to places as far as Indonesia, India, and Africa despite being a eunuch. In Zheng He’s case, he didn’t become a eunuch of his own will—he was forced into it. So, it might be difficult to compare him to those who voluntarily chose to become eunuchs for personal advancement.

Even in the case of Zhang Ao, a general from the Western Han dynasty, he was a eunuch who gained such renown as a military leader that he was called “the enemy of all men.” In every society, some people were regarded as heroes and others were corrupted by power. Additionally, the status of eunuchs varied greatly depending on the era. The position of eunuch was originally that of a civil servant. By necessity, eunuchs were part of a hierarchical society. Some eunuchs at the top wielded power comparable to ministers, and some at the bottom were little more than glorified servants.

Cai Lun had risen to the rank of a high-ranking eunuch. Naturally, it was hard to believe that a government official of his high status could have personally processed plant fibers and made paper.

It might be more accurate to think of Cai Lun as the first person who ordered craftsmen to create paper rather than someone who personally made it. While Cai Lun is credited as the first person in historical texts for making paper, studies suggest it already existed during the Western Han period.

While Cai Lun was regarded as the one who invented paper, it seemed inevitable that someone else living in China had actually created paper. As for the history of gunpowder, it honestly wasn’t entirely clear.

However, a reference to black powder in a book written during the Tang dynasty called Zhen Yuan Miao Dao Yao Lu suggested that the invention of gunpowder had likely occurred before that time.

Even if not all historical mysteries have been solved, the cultural and scientific advancements of the successive dynasties on the Chinese mainland became the gold standard in their respective fields across the globe.

Above all, what mattered was that Japan had continuously imitated the technologies and systems of China, a country with such advancements. In modern terms, this might not have been something to praise. People sometimes derided imitation as “copying” in fields like technology and art. However, one could argue that nearly all technologies that existed in the world were imitations of someone else’s work. In fact, countries considered technologically backward often eventually developed their own unique technology after persistently imitating the superior products of advanced countries. This was likely the same on Earth. But that, in itself, was the situation that Ryoma feared the most.

Having modern knowledge and technology, and even partially putting it into practical use, was overwhelmingly advantageous. If such technology were to leak and be put into use by some other country, it could lead to irreversible consequences.

For the residents of the Earth, humans summoned from Rearth were nothing more than slaves. Not all the people of Earth thought that way, but many countries still continued the summoning ritual for the purpose of turning people into war slaves. In such a world, there was hardly anyone who would want to hand over modern technology. It wasn’t simply a matter of whether one liked or disliked Earth.

It was quite literally a matter of life and death.

If things went wrong, the desire for modern technology would lead to a rampant hunt for people from Rearth, and more people would be summoned to Earth. This terrifying future was easy to imagine. Regardless, this nightmare wouldn’t happen immediately.

The bigger problem is the consumption of military supplies.

Wars required a vast amount of various resources. From food to replacement weapons, the types and amounts required were enormous. Ryoma had also made considerable preparations, but he was starting to feel they were insufficient after this Myest expedition.

For food and weapons, it was a matter of just purchasing them. Purchasing in bulk would make it slightly cheaper, but it was still possible to secure them. However, there were some items in the world that couldn’t be bought even with money.

The depletion of our stock of Fire Drake’s Breath was quite painful.

A deep sigh escaped from Ryoma Mikoshiba’s lips. The Fire Drake’s Breath, created by the dark elf race’s thaumaturgists, could be described simply as a mixture of a combustion accelerator and explosives. Its power was comparable to, or even surpassed, a dragon’s fiery breath. As a weapon, one could consider it almost perfect. But there were still issues, such as the limited production volume.

Fire Drake’s Breath was a kind of elixir created with materials from monsters and plants native to the Wortenia Peninsula. Naturally, a dark elf thaumaturgist had to handle the entire process by hand.

I ended up using nearly all of the Fire Drake’s Breath to annihilate the war elephant unit led by Harisha.

The fact that such an investment of time and effort led to a successful outcome was good. Considering the threat posed by the war elephant unit under Harisha’s command, depleting the Fire Drake’s Breath was a worthwhile sacrifice. Had Ryoma not used Fire Drake’s Breath to destroy the war elephant unit in one fell swoop, the damage to his forces would likely have been much greater. But when considering future strategies, it became clear there were opportunity costs.

At that moment, there was a knock at the door.

“Archduke Mikoshiba, it is time. I have come to escort you.”

Ryoma snapped out of his swirling thoughts and responded to the visitor outside the door, “Thank you for your hard work.”

His voice was no different from usual. The doubts and regrets that had been present just moments before were nowhere to be found. Standing there was the young warlord, feared by enemies as the Devil of Heraklion. With that, Ryoma calmly left the room with no time to dwell on his thoughts. On his shoulders rested the heavy burden of the trust his vassals placed on him and the fate of the three nations in the eastern region of the western continent.

The guards guided Ryoma Mikoshiba into Queen Radine’s office. As soon as he entered, he dropped to one knee and performed the bow of a vassal. Such an attitude was entirely natural for a subject of the Kingdom of Rhoadseria. However, Queen Radine immediately stood up from her chair and urged Ryoma to sit on the sofa.

“Archduke Mikoshiba... This is an informal setting. There is no need for such rigid formalities. Please, have a seat.”

Ryoma slowly rose to his feet and once again bowed deeply to Radine. “I humbly accept Your Majesty’s kindness.”

He then sank his large frame into the sofa placed opposite Queen Radine. One could argue this somewhat lacked decorum.

If the Kingdom of Rhoadseria’s nobles witnessed such a scene, they would undoubtedly frown and sneer, saying, That upstart doesn’t even know his place. As long as Radine had given her permission, she had no issue with him standing up or taking a seat. However, there was an unspoken understanding in such matters. Regardless of the queen’s words, most nobles would make a show of declining the offer once. Yet, Ryoma ignored such formalities. Perhaps he had judged that if he refused out of politeness, it would only make Radine feel more uncomfortable.

Radine knew Ryoma was as powerful and influential as Helena Steiner, an essential ally and supporter. If someone of such stature insisted too much on formality, it would only make Radine feel uneasy. Ryoma’s choice was calculated. Sometimes, rather than insisting on superficial decorum, it was better to simply comply.

Of course, that depends on the person I’m dealing with...

In some cases, accepting such an offer without hesitation could be seen as disrespectful. For example, Ryoma would never have taken Lupis’s words at face value. There was no telling what kind of petty accusations she might have thrown at him. If he were dealing with Lupis, though, he would have avoided setting foot in the royal office at all.

The royal office is a restricted space where one can discuss matters that can’t be spoken of openly. But depending on how the other party acts, it could also become a fatal trap.

The absence of people around meant there were no witnesses. If Lupis ever intended to frame Ryoma, his means of resistance would have been severely limited. In the most extreme case, she could have claimed that Ryoma Mikoshiba had attempted to assault her and, under that pretext, executed him on the spot. Those around her might have doubted her actions, but if the supposed victim pleaded with tears in her eyes, further scrutiny would have become exceedingly difficult.

The situation somewhat resembled a false accusation of molestation in modern society. Even in the absence of objective evidence from a third party, people tended to believe what they wanted to believe. Should the evidence even exist, the outcome would likely remain unchanged. Since the interpretation of evidence was ultimately left to human judgment, nothing could ever be considered absolute. If one wished to avoid becoming a victim, they had to be cautious of their own actions and words. Keeping a distance from untrustworthy individuals could be considered one form of self-defense.

If one starts doubting everything indiscriminately, there would be no end to it, so caution is necessary. And if one directs unnecessary suspicion toward others, it may end up turning allies into enemies.

The seeds of suspicion that took root in the human heart never truly vanished. If one wished, they could even begin to doubt not just the words of their closest family but even the gods themselves.

In reality, suspicion was an enormous burden for the innocent. If doubts were dispelled, that was a fortunate outcome. But the process of proving one’s innocence took considerable time, and in many cases, suspicions remained unresolved. Ryoma Mikoshiba understood this all too well. The former queen, Lupis Rhoadserians, had never been able to trust him and always looked at him suspiciously. As a result, she had effectively exiled him to the Wortenia Peninsula under the guise of a reward for his great achievements. This was nothing more than the consequence of Queen Lupis’s inability to believe in Ryoma’s sincerity.

In this rigidly stratified world, it would be difficult to find anyone willing to fully trust a mere mercenary of unknown origin.

That was ultimately nothing more than Lupis Rhoadserians’s personal issue. At the very least, Ryoma had no intention of considering Lupis’s position or feelings; in reality, he never had. Many people preached the importance of empathy, urging others to consider the perspectives of those around them. But such an argument only held up when both parties saw eye to eye. If Lupis refused to consider Ryoma’s position, yet he was expected to take hers into account, he would be the only one forced to make concessions.

Had it been just once, that might have been acceptable...

But that would have been nothing more than an initial investment made under the assumption that Lupis Rhoadserians was trustworthy. Even if that investment yielded no return, there would have been no grounds for complaint. Why? Because Ryoma would have made the decision to trust Lupis.

That is precisely why the most important thing is to discern what kind of person stands before you—to see through their true nature. Trust those who should be trusted, and doubt those who should be doubted. And once you choose to believe in someone, you must have the resolve to see it through. In the end, that’s all there is to it.

Trust was, in essence, a matter of selection. As it turned out, Ryoma’s approach toward Queen Radine had been correct. Once she confirmed that he had sat on the sofa, Radine nodded in apparent satisfaction. She then turned toward Helena, who had been standing by the wall and silently observing the situation, and urged her to sit as well.

“Helena, there’s no need for you to remain standing. Please, have a seat.”

Helena nodded at her liege’s words before swiftly sitting down beside Radine. At that moment, Ryoma noticed the absence of someone who should have been present in the room. He tilted his head slightly in curiosity.

“Will Prime Minister McMaster not be joining us?”

It was a perfectly natural question. The discussion about to take place would have a significant impact on the future of the Kingdom of Rhoadseria. Queen Radine, the highest authority in the kingdom, and Helena, the newly appointed supreme commander of the military, were in attendance. It only made sense for the prime minister—the highest official in political affairs—to be present as well.

However, Helena responded to Ryoma’s question with a wry smile.

“He’s busy keeping the nobles who oppose Her Majesty’s recent declaration of support for the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy in check. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure he’s briefed on everything later.”

Ryoma couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle.

“I see... It seems I’ve caused quite a bit of trouble for everyone. My apologies.” With that, Ryoma turned back to Radine and bowed deeply once more. This was not an empty gesture but a sincere expression of gratitude from him. Her Majesty has been incredibly supportive in so many ways...

Radine had extended countless accommodations to Ryoma. Even now, she was taking measures to suppress the backlash from Rhoadserian nobles who opposed him. This could certainly be considered one of those accommodations. Her actions were not motivated by pure goodwill, a fact that Ryoma fully understood. Their relationship was strictly business, built on a foundation of mutual benefit. Regardless, human emotions were not always so easily compartmentalized. Even in a strictly businesslike relationship, repeated interactions naturally fostered a sense of familiarity. Moreover, the perception of Ryoma Mikoshiba as ruthless and coldhearted was not entirely accurate. He might have possessed a calculating and merciless side, but that did not mean he was incapable of understanding human emotions. In fact, he had the magnanimity to forgive even those who had once been his enemies.

This approach was evident in the way he had handled figures like Robert Bertrand, Signus Galveria, and Chris Morgan. Or rather, the mere fact that he still maintained a close relationship with Helena Steiner was proof enough of his capacity for tolerance. After all, Helena had once despaired over Lupis Rhoadserians’s rule and sworn to stand beside Ryoma Mikoshiba. However, she had unilaterally broken that promise. Saria Steiner’s tragic death at a young age had played a significant role in that decision. Regardless of the circumstances, the fact remained that Helena had betrayed Ryoma. Even after deposing Lupis Rhoadserians, Ryoma had never once reproached Helena for her actions. Far from blaming her, he had maintained a good relationship with her.

Moreover, Ryoma had recommended Helena as Radine’s guardian and appointed her as the supreme commander of the Rhoadserian army when Radine was made the new queen. Considering these facts, he was not the heartless and cruel man many believed him to be. If anything, he was a man with a surprising degree of compassion. What mattered most was that receiving Ryoma Mikoshiba’s consideration and courtesy required a certain level of worthiness.

Fortunately, Radine Rhoadserians was a ruler who deserved such respect from him. As Ryoma bowed his head, Radine slowly shook hers and lowered it deeply.

“Not at all... You have taken on many of the responsibilities that should rightfully fall upon me as queen. I feel ashamed that I can do so little in return.”

Had Radine been a masterful actress, perhaps even Ryoma might have been fooled by the expression she made then. However, the sorrow on her face made it abundantly clear that these were her true feelings. To him, she was nothing more than an earnest young girl desperately striving to fulfill her duties as queen while relying on the support of those around her.

After all, Radine is the illegitimate daughter of Pharst II, the former king of Rhoadseria, born to a commoner and raised outside the royal palace. She never received a proper royal education. I’ve heard that she’s been studying recently to make up for it. Given her limited free time between her duties as queen, there’s only so much she can dedicate to learning.

And yet, Radine was neither shameless nor irresponsible enough to use that as an excuse.

Just then, the observant Helena suddenly laughed to end their back-and-forth apologies. As the queen’s guardian, it was an impeccable decision.

“Honestly... If we keep going like this, we’ll never get to the main discussion, Your Majesty. If we don’t start soon, you’ll run out of time for your studies. Or could that be your intention?” Helena said, shrugging.

Radine blushed slightly and gave a small nod. Watching this endearing exchange from the side, Ryoma proceeded to report all the matters that needed to be shared in today’s meeting.

After ten minutes of listening to everything, Helena let out a deep sigh.

“I see... So the things King Julianus warned us about are finally starting to become a reality.”

Was that tension on her face? It was an expression rarely seen on the woman hailed as the Ivory Goddess of War. But this reaction was natural considering the looming threat of Alexis Duran and the Organization backing him. Radine, who had been silently absorbing the conversation, was trembling slightly. That alone was enough to tell Ryoma that she understood the gravity of the situation. Her heart was likely gripped by unease and fear. Even so, she refrained from interrupting, quietly listening to the exchange between Ryoma and Helena. She knew she lacked the means to overcome this crisis on her own. And yet, she remained steadfast despite her helplessness. It was a testament to her resolve to fulfill her duty as queen, no matter the odds.

She is far more worthy of serving than that woman ever was, Ryoma honestly thought.

“So, how do you plan to move forward? Will you prioritize negotiations with the Manibhadra tribe leader you took captive, or is dealing with the Organization the more pressing concern?” Helena asked.

Ryoma nodded slightly and said, “The latter. At this stage, I believe that is the most effective course of action. The political upheaval in the Kingdom of Myest and the ongoing price surges in the Kingdom of Helnesgoula are the result of the Organization’s interference. I’ve already explained the situation to Harisha and the others, and they understand.”

“I thought as much. It would be ideal if we could eliminate the root cause. But is it really possible? Their objectives remain unknown, don’t they? A military crackdown isn’t feasible, and even if you attempt negotiations, what exactly do you have to bargain with?”

Helena delicately placed a finger on her chin, tilting her head slightly. Her concerns were perfectly valid.

A direct military confrontation would be a mistake. Even if we manage to destroy some of their bases, it’s obvious their influence would persist elsewhere. That means the only viable option is to find common ground through negotiation.

But for that to happen, the Organization’s true objectives had to be made clear. Without understanding what they sought, Ryoma would have no terms to offer even if he sat at the negotiation table.

That said, I already have a fair idea.

From what Koichiro had vaguely conveyed to him, most members of this so-called Organization were either people summoned from Rearth or their descendants. This world was nothing short of hell for those accustomed to modern Rearth.

Considering all that, the Organization’s objective is fairly easy to guess.

Either way, it was still only Ryoma’s speculation. While Helena and Radine shared his goals, they were still natives of this world. If his guess was correct, there was a nonzero chance that the situation could escalate into an all-out war.

With these two, I doubt that would happen. But unnecessary risks should always be avoided.

No one could truly understand another person’s heart. For that reason, Ryoma chose to share only the concrete facts he possessed.

“Yes, that’s the issue. These people operate in the shadows of the western continent. Uncovering their true objectives won’t be easy. However, I’ve arranged a meeting with one of their executives through a certain intermediary. In half a month, I will be meeting them in Pherzaad. If things go well, we might finally uncover their intentions and open the door to negotiations.”

Helena’s face showed clear surprise. She hadn’t expected things to have progressed that far already.

“I see... So the groundwork has already been laid. Impressive as always,” remarked Helena before voicing her greatest concern. “But if that’s the case, the negotiations with the Organization will take quite a bit of time. I wonder if the front lines of the Kingdom of Xarooda can hold up until then?”

She had a perfectly reasonable concern. The main goal was to stop the O’ltormea Empire’s invasion of the Kingdom of Xarooda. Even if the negotiations with the Organization went well, they would be meaningless if Xarooda fell before then. However, Ryoma calmly nodded in response to the concern.

“As for that, there shouldn’t be any problem. I consulted with the commander when we sent additional soldiers to Xarooda a few days ago. We’ve already prepared countermeasures for this situation.”

“You mean the dark elves you sent to Xarooda recently... If I remember correctly, the general’s name was Nelcius, right?” The underlying tone of that remark carried a hint of concern. “I trust your judgment, Ryoma, but... Are you sure this will be okay?”

Of course, that “okay” carried many layers of meaning.

There was the notable matter of the unknown general Nelcius leading the forces, as well as the fact that the soldiers were all dark elves. Helena had known Ryoma for many years and was familiar with the names and faces of his subordinates.

But Helena had almost no information about Nelcius, who rarely left the Wortenia Peninsula. She only knew that he had once led dark elf troops during the northern subjugation started by Lupis, specifically in the battle on the Runoc Plains outside the fortress city of Epirus.

Of course, Helena had no intention of questioning Ryoma’s decision to appoint Nelcius as the commander of the reinforcements, but she would inevitably feel some unease about Nelcius’s abilities. Ryoma was fully aware of Helena’s concerns and had already taken steps to address them.

“We’ve already informed Joshua Belares through Lione, and I’ve ensured that the soldiers from the Kingdom of Xarooda won’t interact much with our troops. I’ve also arranged for the camp to be set up far from the Xaroodian forces... And, well... This time, we really had no choice but to rely on Nelcius.”

Helena tilted her head in confusion.

“What do you mean? Although you’ve already sent your main force to the Kingdom of Xarooda, you still have Chris and Leonard. Why send a nearly unknown dark elf general? It’s not just a matter of lacking troops, is it?”

In response to Helena’s question, Ryoma silently shook his head. Helena continued to study him with a penetrating gaze as if trying to read his innermost thoughts. But his expression didn’t show a flicker of unease under her scrutiny. He seemingly wouldn’t share the details with her. Eventually, Helena let out a heavy sigh.

“I see, you can’t talk about it, huh?”

“Yes... I’m sorry.”

“On Rearth, they say, ‘Keep your cards close to your chest,’ right? If I remember correctly... Well, fine. I understand. You’re that kind of person.”

Helena then glanced at Radine, who sat beside her, signaling for her to make a decision.

Understanding the unspoken cue, Radine nodded silently to demonstrate her final decision as the queen. In a way, Ryoma was given a blank check. Despite Radine’s understanding, she didn’t hesitate or show any signs of doubt. She was certain this decision was the best possible choice for the Kingdom of Rhoadseria and for herself as its ruler.

A few days later, three people disappeared from the royal capital of Epirus.

Chapter 2: Nelcius’s Proposal

The Kingdom of Xarooda was one of the participating nations in the war, occupying a corner of the eastern region of the continent. In the royal capital Peripheria, the door of a room in the royal castle was flung open with great force. A giant man, easily surpassing two meters in height, stood there. Moreover, he was not just any large man. His weight must have easily exceeded a hundred kilograms, yet he was not merely fat. Muscles honed like steel covered his body, forming a suit of armor around him. His arms were as thick as the waist of a slender woman. It was a body that could only belong to someone who lived for battle. The large man stepped through the doorway and casually surveyed his surroundings. Upon spotting the person he had been looking for, he let out a booming voice that matched his massive frame.

“It’s been a while, freeloader! You look well, and that’s good to see! Since you’ve been holed up in the royal capital playing nursemaid to those spineless nobles under the lioness’s orders, I was worried your skills might have rusted. But it looks like that was just an unnecessary worry!”

Robert Bertrand struck the chest of his longtime friend, whom he was seeing again after so long, with his massive fist. In that instant, a loud thud echoed throughout the room.

Judging by the sheer volume of the sound, an ordinary person would not have merely staggered; they would have been sent sprawling on their backside. And landing on their backside would have been getting off easy. There was a real chance that their sternum would crack under the impact. After all, Robert’s fists were quite literally deadly weapons. On the battlefield, Robert had killed multiple enemies with nothing but his bare fists. He didn’t bear his friend any ill will, so he held back considerably, but what counted as “holding back” for Robert was hardly within the realm of restraint for ordinary people. Robert Bertrand was one of the strongest warriors anywhere, even among the many formidable fighters of the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy—an elite duchy known for its martial prowess.

No matter how much one held back, the strong remained strong, and the weak remained weak. The same applied to when a human picked up an ant. Even if they were careful, humans were a threat to the bug because they could easily crush it with just the slightest misjudgment in pressure. However, a monster’s friend was also a monster. Despite Signus Galveria taking such an impact, the supposed victim did not so much as sway. Perhaps his core strength had been trained to an exceptional degree. Nonetheless, he could have at least shown some reaction to being struck by Robert’s fist. Yet Signus remained completely unfazed and returned Robert’s greeting with his usual demeanor.

“It’s been a long time, Robert. I see you’re still the same as ever. Good to know.”

Signus extended his fist toward Robert, who struck it with his own fist. It was a gesture commonly known as a fist bump. Perhaps it was a display of male camaraderie, a silent celebration of their reunion.

However, not everyone was moved by such displays of male camaraderie.

“Tch... Honestly, what are you two doing getting all cozy like that? It’s not like this is some grand reunion after years apart,” muttered Lione, sitting by the window and watching the scene unfold. Was that exasperation laced in her tone? She smirked, then focused on Robert and Signus. “All right, Twin Blades. That’s enough of your tearful reunion. How about you take your seats already?”

Lione’s teasing remark had a playful edge. It might have been a retort to the lioness comment Robert had made earlier. Of course, there was no malice in her words. It was merely the kind of banter exchanged among comrades. Judging by their reactions, they understood that well enough. Robert, in turn, responded with his own usual sharp-tongued retort, just as he always did.

“Tsk, women with no room in their hearts are such a pain... Seriously, for a so-called lioness who acts more like a man, you sure don’t understand male camaraderie. What a shame.”

Robert shook his head with an exaggerated sigh and shrugged his shoulders, as if lamenting the situation. In some ways, it was a remark that could easily be taken as an insult—and a rather bold one at that. Depending on the recipient, it could very well lead to bloodshed. In modern society, saying something like that would undoubtedly spark outrage, with accusations of sexism and male chauvinism leading to a full-blown scandal. Of course, there were no such things as politically incorrect words in the world of Earth. That didn’t mean his words would always be laughed off without consequence. And yet, the one on the receiving end of that remark remained completely unbothered.

“Well, that can’t be helped. Believe it or not, I am a woman. There’s no way I could understand all that sweaty male camaraderie, right?”

Lione smirked. As someone who had spent many years in the mercenary trade, Robert and Signus’s verbal exchange was not unusual to her. In a sense, it was akin to a casual greeting. Among mercenaries, it was common to exchange even harsher and more vulgar jabs. Getting angry over something as trivial as this would make being a mercenary unsuitable.

One of the main reasons Lione remained unfazed was that she had a strong sense of self. She was a mercenary known as the Crimson Lioness, a name earned from the way she fought, her fiery red hair whipping around her in battle. Moreover, she was the leader of a mercenary group with the same name as her title. Their battle record and the scale of their operations ranked among the top mercenary groups active on the western continent. Their reputation was so great that employers who hired them often attempted to recruit them into formal service.

For someone as skilled as Lione, getting mocked for being a woman was nothing worth worrying about. She had the composure to laugh off Robert’s words. If his words had been meant as a genuine insult, Lione had the resolve and confidence to make sure he would not get away with it unscathed, even if he was one of the Twin Blades. That confidence gave her the composure to dismiss Robert’s words with a laugh. On top of that, Lione and Robert were comrades who had survived countless life-and-death battles together. They would never seriously clash at this point.

The man sitting beside Lione slowly opened his mouth to speak.

“Now then, why don’t you both wrap up the jokes and take your seats? The tea I went through the trouble of preparing will get cold otherwise,” he said, smiling.

He was an imposing figure with silver hair and dark skin. His body was a fortress of steel, rivaling even Robert and Signus in sheer physical strength. That strength was not just for show or a hollow façade, as the man must have accumulated an extensive battle history. The aura he exuded carried a sharpness and warrior’s presence that could stand on equal footing with the Twin Blades, having survived the harshest battlefields. Yet, more than anything else, the man’s striking features caught the attention because they were the pinnacle of beauty.

Whether the word “beautiful” was appropriate for a man was another matter. But with his distinctly pointed ears—something no human could possess—his appearance was undeniably otherworldly.

That presentation, however, was only natural for Nelcius. He was the chieftain of the dark elves who lived on the Wortenia Peninsula, a warrior so renowned that he was feared as the Mad Demon. Among those present, Nelcius had lived the longest. Given that the dark elves were one of the demi-human races with the longest lifespans, it was hardly surprising. Still, age alone was enough to grant a certain level of inherent dignity. In this world, there were elderly people who had done nothing to earn respect. Those who had simply accumulated years without wisdom existed as nothing more than a burden.

While such individuals were whispered about behind their backs as mere dead weight, there were also those whose mere words could command the entire atmosphere of a room.

It wouldn’t be fair to compare Nelcius, who had lived for over six hundred years, to humans who could only reach around a hundred. His words had an undeniable, irresistible weight. After Nelcius spoke, Lione and Robert exchanged a brief nod. Watching them, Signus gave a small shrug.

“Well then, before we get to the main topic, let’s take a moment to relax.”

Once all three had taken their seats, Nelcius snapped his fingers toward the dark elves standing along the wall. At his signal, dark elf maids swiftly began preparing tea and sweets.

“Now then, enjoy yourselves first,” Nelcius said with a smile.

Lione tilted her head in curiosity. “Nelcius, sir... You said tea, so I assumed it’d be the usual black tea, but what’s this?”

She tilted her head slightly. Seated beside her, Robert and Signus did the same. It was a perfectly reasonable question. The cups placed before them did not have the handles they were accustomed to seeing. They were white porcelain teacups used for Chinese tea. Moreover, the teacup was deliberately covered with a matching white porcelain lid.

“This seems to be a common style in the eastern continent. I can’t say for sure how authentic it is, but I thought it wouldn’t hurt to change things up once in a while, so I had this prepared,” Nelcius explained.

When Lione heard this, her eyes widened slightly.

For those associated with the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy, luxury goods like tea were far more familiar than they were to the average noble family in the western continent. A major reason for this was that Sirius, the stronghold of the grand duchy, served as a crucial hub on the northern trade route of the continent. It was a key point for trade goods flowing from the Kingdom of Helnesgoula and the Kingdom of Myest.

Tobacco, alcohol, handicrafts, tea, and swords crafted in the Kingdom of Xarooda, along with textiles imported from Helnesgoula, were just a few of the countless items traded there. The variety of goods easily numbered in the hundreds. Tea, in particular, was common in the daily lives of Ryoma and Koichiro. As a result, different varieties from all over the world were brought to the markets of Sirius, enriching the trade scene. Due to this environment, Lione had naturally acquired a fair amount of knowledge about tea. But information about the eastern continent, which lay beyond even the central continent, had not yet reached her. That, of course, was understandable. Goods from the eastern continent had only recently begun arriving in Sirius via the central continent.

I had heard that trading ships were coming into Sirius nonstop lately, and now I see why...

The Wortenia Peninsula was once known as a forsaken land, a demonic frontier. But now, it had become a source of great wealth. This transformation was due to Sirius developing as a resupply port along the northern trade route and a thriving hub for commerce. In fact, more and more ships from the northern and central continents were choosing to dock in Sirius instead of Pherzaad. The wealth generated from this shift would likely rival an entire year’s worth of tax revenue for the Kingdom of Rhoadseria. Considering Sirius was still expanding, the city’s wealth might surpass that of Rhoadseria itself and match the combined economies of the entire eastern continent. This immense economic power had played a crucial role in strengthening the military forces of the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy. Without this financial strength, establishing a powerful force capable of controlling the northern regions of Rhoadseria while using the Wortenia Peninsula—a land with almost no population and little tax revenue—as its base would have been impossible.

However, that didn’t mean all efforts had been focused solely on military expansion. If anything, it would be more accurate to say that Ryoma Mikoshiba had prioritized cultural development and technological advancement over sheer military might. Thus, an incredible variety of cultures had begun flowing into Sirius from all corners of Earth.

Lione, Nelcius, and the others had also benefited from this progress. In fact, it seemed that the dark elves under Nelcius had gained even more from this prosperity than Lione and Robert.

“I see... So this is eastern continent-style tea,” Lione mused. “Nelcius, sir... You sure have a taste for the finer things, don’t you?”

Lione smiled at Nelcius, but her tone carried a hint of reproach that was certainly no illusion. Though a smile graced her lips, her eyes remained cold and sharp, gleaming like those of a lion poised to strike. She would naturally make a remark like this. While she and her comrades had been struggling on the front lines, Nelcius had been leisurely enjoying tea in the rear. Anyone in her position would feel inclined to throw a jab or two.

She had no real intention of reprimanding Nelcius. As the chieftain of the dark elves, Nelcius was more of a trusted ally to Ryoma Mikoshiba than a mere subordinate. Although he now technically held the same rank as the other vassals of the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy, even Lione and the other earliest retainers weren’t in a position to lecture him too much. Besides, Nelcius was over six hundred years old—a true elder by any standard. Humans and dark elves had vastly different lifespans, so their perception of age differed. But by human reckoning, he was undoubtedly an ancient figure.

The dark elves had greatly contributed to the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy, from resource procurement in the Wortenia Peninsula to their expertise in imbuing thaumaturgy into objects. Given all this, Nelcius had the right to enjoy his tea freely. Nonetheless, Lione was only human. When someone flaunted their leisurely pleasures so openly, one would feel slightly irritated and want to throw in a sarcastic remark. It was half in jest, half out of envy. Despite Lione’s piercing gaze, Nelcius simply took it in stride, brushing it off with complete composure.

“Well, don’t be so harsh, Lione,” Nelcius said, grinning. “For nearly six hundred years, I never had the luxury of enjoying fine indulgences like this. But now, Sirius continues to develop, bringing in goods from all over the world. I find it difficult to resist temptation. As a chieftain, I know I should set an example for my people, but...when it comes to tobacco and tea, I just can’t help myself.”

Nelcius chuckled and scratched his head in embarrassment.

Lione sighed, then shrugged with a weary smile. Seeing Nelcius’s innocent smile left her with no choice but to swallow the biting remark that had been sitting on the tip of her tongue. She felt as though all her irritation had vanished. If this was part of Nelcius’s plan, he had hit the mark perfectly. Whether she realized his intentions, Lione turned back to the tea set before her and lifted the lid from the porcelain cup. A faint smile crossed her lips when she saw the unfamiliar color of the liquid inside.

In the western continent, the word “tea” generally referred to black tea. But the liquid in her cup was a pale, almost translucent shade of green. This would have been a perfectly familiar sight to a Japanese person, but it was entirely novel to someone born in the western continent like Lione.

“This pale green color... So this is the eastern continent’s tea?”

She brought the steaming cup close to her face and carefully sniffed. While she didn’t actually suspect poison, of course, her hesitance was clear. She was intrigued by the unfamiliar sight yet slightly apprehensive about trying it. Meanwhile, Robert stared intently at the sweets arranged on the plate before him. Perhaps influenced by his curiosity, Signus also approached the unfamiliar confections. They were small, delicate, dry sweets shaped like flowers crafted for effortless enjoyment.

The sweet was like a delicate flower, yet about ten were neatly arranged on a single plate. At first glance, they looked so intricate that one might mistake them for real flowers. In fact, they were crafted so beautifully that one might hesitate to eat them.

“These sweets sure are tiny...”

“But, Robert... Look at the craftsmanship. They really put a lot of effort into shaping them like flowers.”

“You’re right. They even re-created the veins on the leaves.”

“This is completely different from the kind of tea and sweets we’re used to. The last tea party we attended served whole cakes, sliced and covered in cream and chocolate,” Robert muttered as he eyed the sweets.

“Huh? You’re telling me you get invited to tea parties?” Lione teased. “I thought you were a hardcore drinker who couldn’t stand sweets, but you sure seem to know a lot about them.”

Her words carried an unmistakable tone of amusement. Judging by her smirk, she clearly saw this as excellent teasing material. Who could blame her? Robert Bertrand was known as one of the Twin Blades, an unwavering warrior. He was considered one of the greatest symbols of martial strength in the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy alongside his partner, Signus.

When she heard that a man like him attended tea parties and ate chocolate cake, who wouldn’t want to tease him a little? As a noble, it wasn’t surprising that Robert knew proper tea party etiquette or that he had plenty of opportunities to attend such gatherings. Having been born into a noble house, he needed to have at least a basic understanding of such social customs. And yet, no matter how logical it was, something about it still felt off. If he were attending a banquet, that would make perfect sense. But an elegant tea party? That just didn’t fit. Of course, that was nothing more than a preconceived notion. From Robert’s perspective, this was probably just another case of unfair assumptions.

“Well, yeah... It’s not like I want to go,” Robert admitted with a smirk. “But at those evening parties, noble ladies and well-to-do women keep inviting me to tea. And, well... It’d be rude to turn them down too harshly. All I gotta do is show my face, keep them entertained for a bit, and they’re happy. And who knows? Maybe one of them will keep me company for the night. If you wanna be popular, the key is attentiveness.”

For better or worse, Robert was a social man. He wasn’t obsessed with etiquette and formalities, yet he never came across as crude. If anything, his demeanor had a certain refined charm. Despite his rough exterior, he was surprisingly well-spoken. Though he never took up the brush, he was knowledgeable about calligraphy and antiques. He also had a deep appreciation for music, which naturally made him quite the favorite among women.

As such, Robert never had trouble with women. Even when a relationship ran its course, he always knew how to part ways gracefully. He never left his partners with lingering resentment. In that sense, he was the complete opposite of Signus. Because of this, Robert had naturally picked up a fair amount of knowledge about the noble tea parties that were regularly held in high society. This setup might have seemed rather plain to those used to the typical tea parties of the western continent, where whole cakes rich with cream, butter, and milk were the norm.

Well, as long as it’s not overly sweet, I don’t care whether it’s Western or Eastern style. But let’s see how this goes, mused Robert.

Robert didn’t dislike the thick layers of cream often found in noble confections, but the sheer sweetness could be overwhelming. After all, sugar was a rare and valuable commodity in this world. That was precisely why the wealthiest noble houses tended to use it excessively in their desserts. In short, it was an absurd status symbol. Nobles sacrificed taste just to show off their financial power.

Well... Knowing Lord Nelcius, I doubt he’d serve anything ridiculous.

Even so, Robert found himself hesitating to reach for the unfamiliar confection. Making the first move changed the atmosphere, but it was difficult for that first person to step forward. On the battlefield, even a fierce general who led the charge might have found things a bit different in this situation. That was the case with Lione and Signus as well. While the three of them were interested, none of them reached for the treats. As Nelcius saw them hesitate, he let out a cheerful laugh.

“Lately, I’ve been indulging in tea and sweets,” Nelcius said. “I had asked Lady Samejima and Lord Zheng for advice and enjoyed their knowledge. By the way, today’s tea is a variety called Tenpoumouzan tea from the eastern continent. It is renowned as quite a fine tea over there. For the sweets, I prepared Rakugan, a less sweet type of dry confection. It paired quite well, so do give it a try.”

Nelcius had picked up one of the flower-shaped sweets and popped it into his mouth. After chewing a few times, he reached for the steaming tea bowl.

“Hmm... The simple sweetness is nicely washed down with the tea. I do enjoy my alcohol, but this kind of thing is also quite delightful.”

After Lione saw Nelcius smile, she and the others reached for the sweets as well. It had truly been a blissful moment. Although they were supposed to be starting a strategic meeting regarding the O’ltormea Empire, the atmosphere in the room had already transformed into something resembling a peaceful afternoon tea gathering. It seemed that good food had a way of making people happy. Food was the way to a person’s heart, after all. Even Robert and Signus, who usually preferred alcohol and weren’t keen on sweets, enjoyed pairing the relatively mild, sweet, dry confections and the tea.

“Hmm, not bad... What do you think, Signus?”

“I’d prefer it if the sweetness was a bit more restrained, but I don’t think it’s bad either.”

Robert and Signus were both towering men, so seeing them interested in flower-shaped dry confections was comical and endearing.

“Has the mighty Signus developed a bit of a sweet tooth?” Lione asked.

At this, Signus shrugged. “I still enjoy my alcohol, and I’m not fond of overly sweet cakes. This one is simple, yet it has a balanced sweetness... Hmm, sweets like these aren’t bad at all.”

Hearing those words, Nelcius smiled with pleasure.

“That’s good to hear. I was a bit worried about pushing my tastes on you, but if you’re enjoying it, that’s all that matters,” Nelcius responded, sipping his tea with relish.

The image he presented was almost like that of a kindly old man. He looked like a retired elder enjoying his tea while basking in the sun on his home’s porch. Nelcius was a member of the dark elf race, and they were known for their extraordinary longevity and immortality, far surpassing that of humans. If one were to judge by his physical appearance alone, few would call Nelcius an old man, though in truth he was nearly seven hundred years old. At first glance, he looked to be in his early thirties, even to someone trying to offer a high estimate of his age.

It wouldn’t have been surprising if some less attentive observers even thought he was in his late twenties. Apart from his physical appearance, he did not emanate the vibrancy of youth but rather the calmness of age—an air of maturity and experience that came with time.

At least he didn’t fit the stereotypical description of the ominous title of Mad Demon. Despite his peaceful demeanor, no one in the room was so naive and simpleminded that they could be fooled. Everyone present was a battle-hardened warrior. And not just any warriors; they were leaders of armies, commanders with the ability to lead large forces. For better or worse, one could describe them as a group of formidable individuals who were far from simple.

“So, Nelcius, what exactly did the young master order you to do? Sending a dark elf to the Kingdom of Xarooda... I must say, that seems like quite a bold decision. Surely you didn’t come here just to spread your master’s personal hobbies, did you?” asked Lione, casting a probing glance.

Her tone remained light, as usual. Yet Lione’s eyes had a sharp, cold gleam, unlike those filled with playful banter with Robert only moments ago. The impression was so different that it was hard to believe this was the same woman.

The intensity befitted her moniker, the Crimson Lioness.

So they’re actually sending Nelcius to the Kingdom of Xarooda... Considering how others view the dark elves, I have a bad feeling about this...

None of the people in this room held any prejudice or discriminatory views against the dark elves. A group of them regularly visited the city of Sirius, the stronghold of the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy, in search of trade goods. During the northern subjugation Lupis Rhoadserians initiated, they had fought alongside the elite dark elves in battle. In that sense, Lione and the others viewed the dark elves under Nelcius as their allies. This shared perception was common among many of the people belonging to the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy.

Additionally, it was worth noting that most of the people in the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy were former slaves, which made it easier for them to avoid holding any prejudices or discriminatory attitudes. Slaves were people who had no homes or property and were at the very bottom of society. In fact, they didn’t even have the right to live by their own will. Their fate was in the hands of slave traders and buyers, making it a living hell. But amid such despair, Ryoma Mikoshiba had given these people hope by offering them freedom from slavery. This was not an act of pure goodwill but the result of a cold and calculated strategy backed by meticulous planning.

However, Ryoma wasn’t a selfish villain because his actions were based on practical calculations.

Lupis had forced the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy to take control of the cursed, desolate, and demon-infested Wortenia Peninsula. Ryoma had come up with this desperate measure in order to survive. Regardless of Ryoma’s true intentions, he had given the hopeless slaves a path to tomorrow and the means to live.

Therefore, Ryoma was undeniably the benefactor of the slaves in an environment where their lives were not guaranteed. That was why none of them ever considered actively opposing Ryoma.

If any individuals within the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy harbored discriminatory feelings toward the dark elves, I’m sure that child would never let them live.

That scenario was probably as certain as the fact that the sun rose in the east and set in the west. Lione and Ryoma had a long-standing relationship that dated back to the civil war in the Kingdom of Rhoadseria. She knew there was no need to say more.

Well, the boy believes that reconciliation with nonhumans is essential for the development and survival of the grand duchy.

Ryoma Mikoshiba had been friendly toward the dark elves from the beginning. However, Lione fully understood that this friendliness was not just out of goodwill. He was friendly toward them for multiple reasons, but the most important reason was from a security standpoint. Although the Wortenia Peninsula was Ryoma Mikoshiba’s territory, it had been uncertain whether the locals, like Nelcius, would recognize him as their lord.

The Wortenia Peninsula was land that the Kingdom of Rhoadseria had long neglected. If an unknown lord appeared and claimed dominion, there was no way Nelcius and his people would simply comply. However, that didn’t mean they could just expel Nelcius and his people.

For the demi-humans who survived the holy war, the Wortenia Peninsula was their last sanctuary.

Should the demi-humans lose that, they would resist desperately. Moreover, Nelcius and his people had the advantage of knowing the land after living there for nearly six hundred years. If Ryoma were to try to expel the dark elves by force, Nelcius and his people would surely choose to fight to the last person, regardless of the cost. One could draw a parallel with the creation of guerrilla or terrorist organizations. Alternatively, it might be better to describe it as a case of partisans fighting against oppression. Regardless of what happened, the end result would be a brutal war between humans and demi-humans.

Ryoma Mikoshiba knew this and was not foolish enough to intentionally step on a land mine. From a security standpoint, he had no choice but to adopt a policy of reconciliation. In addition, ignoring the dark elves’ high level of ability as thaumaturgists was impossible.

The dark elves’ thaumaturgy skills are far superior to those of human thaumaturgists.

After all, the lifespan of dark elves was more than ten times that of humans. Of course, simply living longer wasn’t the only benefit. Some human thaumaturgists were just as skilled as dark elves of the same age, but the longer lifespan of the latter gave them more time to acquire and refine their skills.

Many of the dark elves on the Wortenia Peninsula can mix highly effective potions using the unique plants and minerals found there. On top of that, they’re also skilled hunters, so there’s no choice but to form an alliance with them, Lione thought, knowing dark elves were an extremely valuable group. Discrimination or anything similar would completely destroy any chance of reconciliation. So, it’s only natural that the boy would be cautious.

However, that approach was only true within the limited organization of the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy.

Most humans living on the western continent don’t have a favorable view of demi-humans. It’s the same as when you don’t notice something as long as it’s not in your line of sight.

Compared to the time of the Holy War about six hundred years ago, when there was an actual war between humans and demi-humans, it wasn’t as clear that they saw each other as enemies anymore. That was merely the result of the sharp reduction in encounters with demi-humans within human territory.

Many people felt disgusted by cockroaches or spiders, but no one tried to eradicate those pests from the entire world. Trouble only arose when they appeared behind the furniture in one’s home and entered their field of vision. The human dislike or discrimination toward demi-humans on the western continent was something similar. Those who followed the Church of Meneos still viewed demi-humans as enemies, preaching their extermination for the survival and prosperity of humanity. Since the teachings of the Church of Meneos had not changed, this was to be expected. Conversely, unless one was a devout follower of the Church of Meneos, it was not common to harbor ingrained animosity toward demi-humans. Fortunately, the eastern region of the continent was far from the headquarters of the Church of the Meneos in Menestia.

As a result, the influence of the Church of the Meneos was not particularly strong in that region. The number of fanatical followers who would inevitably try to bring about the extermination of demi-humans in the Kingdom of Xarooda would be quite limited. Still, when one looked at the larger picture, the reality was that humanity wasn’t particularly favorable toward demi-humans.

Well, that belief was probably the same in the Kingdom of Rhoadseria.

Because he understood this, Ryoma Mikoshiba had not actively sought to use the warriors of the dark elves. That was a wise decision made to avoid unnecessary friction. But this time, Ryoma had discarded that wisdom, which was a sign that there was some significant reason behind this action.

“There must be something... Some clear reason you all were sent out here?” asked Lione.

Signus crossed his arms and nodded deeply.

“That’s right... Of course, I have no intention of disagreeing with the lord’s decision. But if possible, could you explain it to us?”

Nelcius also nodded and replied, “I was sent to the Kingdom of Xarooda to provide reinforcements to the front lines against the O’ltormea Empire and transport supplies. The rescue of the Myest Kingdom by Lord Mikoshiba ended up failing in a way we hadn’t foreseen. Despite that, abandoning the Kingdom of Xarooda was not an option at this point. And so, we decided that reinforcements were needed, even if it meant taking some risks.”

The situation that Nelcius spoke of almost completely matched the understanding of Lione and the others. Originally, the strategy Ryoma had conceived was quite simple. He intended to send his main generals like Lione and Robert to the Kingdom of Xarooda to buy time. Meanwhile, he would engage the joint forces of Brittantia and Tarja, who had invaded the Kingdom of Myest.

Facing both the joint forces of Brittantia and Tarja as well as the O’ltormea Empire’s forces all at once was, logically speaking, incredibly difficult.

Holding multiple fronts simultaneously, commonly referred to as a two-front war, was never considered a favorable one in military strategy. This was in line with the views of Carl Philipp Gottlieb von Clausewitz, a Prussian military theorist, and the famous Chinese military treatise The Art of War by Sun Tzu. Dispersing one’s forces was generally viewed as a risky move because it increased the likelihood of being defeated in detail, making it commonly recognized as a bad strategy.

There were instances where one might strategically or tactically choose to disperse one’s forces, but that wasn’t the norm.

During her mercenary days, Lione had excelled in leading small units, which was a form of disruptive warfare that was traditionally seen as a poor tactical choice. Guerrilla warfare, for instance, was the complete opposite of concentrating forces for a decisive confrontation. Instead, it involved splitting units into small groups and launching ambushes or surprise attacks to wear down the enemy. The weak used this tactic when opposing the strong, yet it was precisely because of this that it was effective. The strategy was akin to a swarm of bees attacking a bear. While that was still a valid and effective tactic, it didn’t change the fact that dividing one’s forces was fundamentally a poor choice. Even if doing so was tactically acceptable, it was only under specific conditions where one’s own side held the initiative.

The key point here was who controlled the initiative.

To hold the initiative meant being able to choose when and where to strike, according to one’s will. If the enemy held the initiative, one could never know when they would strike, requiring constant vigilance. This would inevitably lower the morale of the troops and wear them down. One could argue that securing the initiative played a crucial role in determining the outcome of a battle. However, in situations like the current one, where an invasion from another country was taking place, the attacking enemy force could take control of the initiative.

That’s precisely why he tried to regain the initiative by aiding the Kingdom of Myest.

Lione realized Ryoma’s plan was to defeat the Brittantia-Tarja alliance army early, along with Myest’s forces, and move to aid Xarooda.

Prioritizing the aid to the Kingdom of Myest makes sense because the O’ltormea Empire has an army said to be over two hundred thousand or even three hundred thousand strong. In contrast, the initially expected force of the Brittantia-Tarja alliance army was only around sixty thousand. While not a small force, compared to the O’ltormea army, the decision to focus on defeating the weaker of the two was not wrong. If I were in that kid’s position, I’d have done the same.

No matter how much one tried their best, the results didn’t always follow, as was the way of the world.

“Well, I knew that already... Since it has become difficult to quickly put out the fire in the Kingdom of Myest, handling the Kingdom of Xarooda is now an urgent issue,” remarked Lione.

“Alexis Duran, huh? He should be quite old by now and was said to be retired, but he has returned to active duty. If the opportunity arises, I’d love to spar with him. While the O’ltormea forces are large in number, fighters with real substance are few. My partner also took Rolfe Estherkent out of the picture,” Robert said.

Robert grinned ferociously like a wild carnivorous beast that had found its prey and was licking its lips in anticipation. For someone strong as himself, it was probably like finding a good playmate. Fighting a weak enemy would only bore someone like Robert, which resembled how a professional baseball player couldn’t treat a match with a little league team as a serious competition. He wasn’t being unserious or mocking the opponent. If it were to be criticized as the arrogance of the strong, then that would be true. However, the truth was that he simply couldn’t get fully invested in it. In such a situation, Robert couldn’t help but feel excited when he heard about an opportunity to fight against a renowned general who led the military of a nation.

“Putting aside this fool’s words, he’s one of the three generals of the Kingdom of Myest and is considered the strongest warrior. Certainly, if a monster like that appears, a reset will be necessary,” Lione said.

“Tch, even you want to fight, don’t you? Acting all innocent! Traitor!” Robert shot back.

Signus shrugged his shoulders in an exaggerated manner. “I am also a warrior, to some extent. If I’m told there might be a chance to face such a general, I won’t deny that my heart would race. In order for us to fight Alexis Duran, we’ll have to first deal with our current situation, won’t we? At the very least, it’ll be quite a while before the political situation in the Kingdom of Myest stabilizes. Naturally, sending reinforcements to the Kingdom of Xarooda will be difficult.”

Robert crossed his arms and snorted loudly in response.

“As Signus said, it’s probably true. The original strategy has already been derailed, and it’s better to consider it a failure. Well, I’m sure our lord understands this as well. He’s quick when it comes to recognizing such situations. He’ll surely come up with another plan soon. However, it’s undeniable that creating an alternative strategy will take time. Given that, it’s easy to understand why Sir Nelcius came to offer reinforcements,” Robert said sarcastically, to which Nelcius nodded deeply in agreement.

“Well, in general, that’s true.”

But a sinister smile appeared on Nelcius’s face.

Lione had noticed the implication in Nelcius’s expression. She tilted her head and asked, “In general?”

“Yes. Our lord specifically ordered me to prevent the O’ltormea Empire from invading the Kingdom of Xarooda. However, I was also ordered to reclaim the occupied territories of the nation.”

A look of surprise crossed Lione’s face. It wasn’t just her; Robert and Signus shared the same reaction.

“Reclaim the territory? Are you serious?” murmured Lione.

Stopping the invasion of the O’ltormea Empire could be considered a very reasonable strategic goal. That was exactly why Nelcius had arrived with nearly ten thousand dark elves in tow. It would be illogical to send such a large force and suddenly claim they were not reinforcements. Therefore, Lione wouldn’t have been surprised if the reinforcements were merely meant to hold off the O’ltormea Empire’s invasion. The preparations necessary to make that possible had already been completed.

If it came to reclaiming the territory occupied by the O’ltormea Empire, the situation would change drastically. While the ultimate goal of reclaiming the territory was understandable, it was safe to say that the task was nearly impossible.

At this stage, the only thing left to do was to hinder the O’ltormea Empire’s invasion, even if just a little. This fact wouldn’t change, no matter how skilled the dark elves led by Nelcius were as warriors or thaumaturgists. Robert, who had been fighting against the O’ltormea Empire, as well Lione and Signus, who had been dealing with the demoralized nobles in the royal capital of Peripheria, had known this for months. Of course, taking a great gamble was not entirely out of the question strategically. But that would truly be a last resort, which was far too dangerous.

Even if the combined forces of the Kingdom of Xarooda and the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy gathered, their total numbers wouldn’t reach one hundred thousand. In this situation, the only option would be to buy time by fortifying a defensive line at the stronghold.

“Reclaiming the territory is certainly the ultimate goal of this war. But given the current situation, it’s far too reckless. We simply don’t have enough troops. At least, it would be impossible unless Xarooda’s army can move together as one,” Lione said.

She offered an extremely reasonable judgment. When Robert heard those words, he nodded while crossing his arms.

“Well, that’s true. Logically, it would be impossible. What do you think, Signus?”

Said belief was common among the warriors of the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy, who took great pride in their martial prowess. However, Signus felt a sense of discomfort about the obvious situation that everyone was accepting. Anyone could conclude that attempting to reclaim the territory was impossible, but there must have been some reason for it to be brought up. Thus, Signus focused on Nelcius and spoke up.

“I also think it’s difficult given the current situation. But I can’t imagine that Lord Mikoshiba or Lord Nelcius don’t understand this. This means there must be a reason Lord Nelcius was sent as reinforcements, right?”

Signus had an intuition—a hunch. And that hunch turned out to be correct. Reclaiming the territory occupied by the O’ltormea Empire was nothing more than a pipe dream under the current circumstances. Nelcius and Ryoma were already fully aware of this fact. Still, there was a way to change the situation by solving a complicated problem.

And the preparations to solve that problem had already been made.

With a voice full of confidence, Nelcius asked everyone, “What if we could treat the condition of Julianus I? Do you think there’s any possibility of that?”

A look of surprise crossed the faces of the three warriors. Most residents of the Kingdom of Xarooda had considered that possibility at one point, only to give up on it. But if it was possible, the situation would change drastically. The king’s illness prevented him from leading and had caused many of the kingdom’s problems.

Therefore, Nelcius’s proposal could be said to be nothing short of a lifeline, as if it had descended from the heavens.

“Healing? Are you saying that you and your companions will treat His Majesty Julianus I? This isn’t some joke that can be brushed off, right?” Lione asked with intense curiosity.

Nelcius nodded deeply in response. His confident expression made it clear that this was neither a lie nor a joke.

“You seem pretty confident about this...”

“Of course. If I weren’t confident, I wouldn’t be bringing up such a proposal, would I?”

In fact, it was impossible to make such a proposal lightly. Treating the king of a nation was no simple task. A doctor had the power to decide their patient’s fate. One could argue they had ultimate authority over life and death. Because of that, a doctor who treated someone of high rank needed not only great skill but an even greater degree of trust.

“So, do you think we can get approval for this?”

Lione pondered that question and responded, “If I talk to Joshua, I don’t think it would be a problem. But honestly, I can’t make any promises.”

It was extremely unusual for Nelcius, a demi-human, to be the one to treat Julianus I. If Lione talked to Joshua about this, he could hope for a swift grant of permission. On the other hand, there was a real possibility that the fact that Nelcius was a demi-human might complicate matters and make the situation more difficult. As expected, Lione didn’t think Joshua or Grahart would say something like that.

As far as Lione knew, both Joshua and Grahart had deep loyalty to Julianus. If their precious lord could be saved, they would likely accept Nelcius’s treatment without hesitation.

Unfortunately, not everyone is like that. Among the nobility, some actually wish for Julianus to die sooner. If any of them heard about this, they would never approve of the treatment.

Furthermore, considerable backlash could be expected if the story leaked. While most of the people living in the Kingdom of Xarooda weren’t extremely devout, most were still followers of the Church of Meneos. It was unlikely that the citizens would use the teachings of the god of light to reject the king’s treatment, but it certainly wasn’t impossible.

“Then, I’ll start the diagnosis tomorrow. If we drag our feet too long, we might miss the opportunity.”

Lione couldn’t help but shout, “Tomorrow?!”

Seeing Lione’s reaction, Nelcius chuckled with amusement.

“Have someone from the Kingdom of Xarooda arrange for the examination. If my prediction is correct, I think I can show you something interesting.”

With that, Nelcius reached for his teacup. Once he slowly brought it to his mouth, he drank the remaining slightly warm tea with a satisfied look.

Chapter 3: The Dawn of the Purge

Around past three in the morning of the following day, before dawn had broken, a group advanced down the luxurious red carpet covering a corridor of the royal castle. Leading them was Grahart Henschel, the captain of the Xarooda’s Royal Guard, accompanied by four elite knights under his command. Behind them walked Joshua Belares, the young hero of the Kingdom of Xarooda and a man the nation took great pride in. Beside him followed Lione, a redheaded mercenary.

Up to this point, nothing seemed particularly unusual. It was late at night, but everyone present was either a person of great influence within the Kingdom of Xarooda or a high-ranking ally dispatched by the noble Mikoshiba Grand Duchy. However, the presence of the figure trailing them shattered that impression like a mirage dissipating in the heat. He was a strikingly handsome man with long silver hair flowing over his dark skin. His beauty and air of strength would undoubtedly draw the gaze of all who saw him. Despite that allure, few would dare approach him of their own volition, for he was not a being of this world. Eventually, Grahart came to a halt.

“This is the place... Enter,” Grahart instructed.

He ordered the guards on either side of the door to open it, ushering the group inside. The room was quite large. Every piece of furniture placed within had been handcrafted by master artisans, a testament to the high status of the room’s owner. Amid the opulent setting, Joshua strode toward the bed positioned at the room’s center.

“Lord Joshua! What brings you here at this hour? What in the world is happening?” fretted the maid who had been sitting beside Julianus’s bed, rising to her feet. Her reaction was natural because her duty was to be vigilant in Julianus’s presence.

However, Joshua raised a hand to silence the maid’s protest, gesturing for her to stand in the corner of the room. His demeanor left no room for argument.

“Nelcius, can you really heal him?”

Joshua glared at Nelcius, who stood by the bedside. In his eyes flickered the embers of deep-seated distrust that could only belong to someone who had placed his faith in doctors, only to be betrayed time and time again. Under normal circumstances, this emotion had no place in the relationship between a healer and the loved ones of the afflicted. If one did not trust a doctor, there was no need for hesitation. One could simply seek another. Yet, Joshua’s reaction was not entirely unreasonable.

Since the beginning of the O’ltormea Empire’s second invasion of the Kingdom of Xarooda, countless renowned physicians had examined the bedridden Julianus. Medical professionals from the Kingdom of Xarooda, the Holy Qwiltantia Empire, and the Holy City of Menestia had been summoned at great expense. And yet, every single one of those so-called master healers had admitted defeat. The reason was painfully simple. None of them could explain the abnormality afflicting Julianus’s body. At first, poisoning was suspected. However, medical examinations had already ruled out arsenic or other known toxins. Moreover, Julianus had always taken precautions against assassination. He dined using enchanted tableware designed to detect poison, and his meals were always tasted in advance by a maid. Considering this, the possibility that he had been poisoned seemed highly unlikely.

If not poison, then what? The doctors insisted it was not an illness either. At the very least, no known treatments had proven effective, rendering even the greatest physicians powerless. All they could do was attempt to ease his suffering, but the results had been nothing short of tragic. What had begun as a mild cough gradually worsened. His breathing grew labored, and before long, he could no longer even eat properly.

By now, Julianus could no longer even rise from his sickbed. His already slender frame had withered away to the point of resembling a mummy, a direct result of his inability to eat properly. His daily sustenance consisted of nothing more than grated apples and other fruits diluted with water and trickled down his throat. Given such circumstances, his skeletal appearance was inevitable.

Julianus had already fallen into a critical state, completely unconscious. Even in his extreme frailty, his abdomen remained unnaturally swollen—an eerie and unnatural sight.

“Well? Nelcius, can you heal him?” repeated Joshua.

Ignoring Joshua’s sharp gaze, Nelcius quietly placed his hands on Julianus’s body as a form of physical examination. After a moment, Nelcius finally spoke.

“Hmm... Just as I thought.”

From his expression, his suspicions had been confirmed. Nelcius reached into a prepared leather pouch, retrieving a tobacco pipe, an unfamiliar wooden branch, and dried leaves from some unknown plant. Under the watchful eyes of Joshua and the others, he drew a knife from his waist and shaved the branch into fine slivers. Once he had reduced the wood to small chips, he crumbled the dried leaves in his palm and packed them into the pipe’s bowl.

“There. Now, let’s begin the treatment.”

With a silent incantation, Nelcius conjured a small flame at the tip of his right index finger and brought it close to the pipe’s end. He then raised the mouthpiece to his lips, inhaling deeply until his lungs were full of smoke. As he leaned over Julianus, he exhaled the stored smoke directly into his mouth. It was, in essence, a form of artificial respiration by modern standards. In this world, where no such concept existed, Nelcius’s actions appeared nothing short of madness.

“Wait, what the hell are you doing, Nelcius?!”

“What is that supposed to be?! You call that a treatment?!”

Both Lione and Joshua erupted in outrage. Grahart, who stood nearby, had already reached for the hilt of his sword. They had remained silent, watching Nelcius’s actions under the assumption that it was all part of the treatment. But at last, their patience had reached its limit. Joshua placed a hand on Nelcius’s shoulder, ready to stop him. Just as he was about to act, his hand froze. Julianus’s body had begun to tremble violently.

“Guh... Argh!”

All of a sudden, Julianus’s body convulsed, and he erupted into a fit of coughing. Nelcius had been waiting for this exact change. Without hesitation, he brought the opening of a prepared leather pouch close to Julianus’s mouth.

A torrent of water gushed from Julianus’s mouth, flowing straight into the pouch. The amount was overwhelming, as though an entire bucket had been overturned. Yet, the phenomenon did not end there. Even after Julianus had expelled the water, his throat convulsed. It was as if something within him was struggling to crawl its way out. Finally, that “something” emerged from his mouth.

“There it is. This is the cause of the illness.”

Nelcius pinched the creature between his fingers and held it up for all to see. It was a worm that eerily resembled an earthworm. Roughly five centimeters in length, its slimy, grotesque appearance made it something no one would want to touch with their bare hands.

“What the hell is that?” Lione asked, hugging herself in visible disgust. She had finally realized that all of Nelcius’s strange actions had indeed been part of the treatment. The outrage from earlier had completely vanished. When Nelcius saw their reactions, he held up the parasite for them to inspect.

“It’s called a bloodworm, a parasitic creature. When it infects a host, it first causes symptoms resembling a common cold. But over time, it gradually drains the host’s blood. In the end, it eats its way out of the host’s body, killing them in the process,” Nelcius explained, tossing the bloodworm onto the ground and crushing it under his foot. He wanted to erase every last trace of the vile parasite from existence, and few creatures were as insidious as this one.

Yet, Joshua furrowed his brows and asked, “But how? How did such a parasite end up inside His Majesty?”

“If it was in its egg stage, it could have slipped past the enchanted tableware designed to detect toxins. Most likely, it was mixed into a dish that didn’t require heat during preparation.”

“Impossible! It’s true that if the parasite was in its egg stage, it could have bypassed the enchanted tableware. But His Majesty’s meals were always tasted for poison beforehand. If you’re correct, then the food taster should have shown the same symptoms. Isn’t that right, Jane?”

At that moment, every gaze in the room turned toward a single person, the maid who had been tending to Julianus I. The girl called Jane had remained silent in the corner, merely observing the unfolding events. But under the weight of countless stares, she finally opened her mouth. Her expression was filled with fear and anxiety, especially since she was standing at the precipice of being accused as a poisoner.

“Yes, I was the one who performed the poison tasting under the supervision of the head maid. You can confirm this with her directly.”

Jane had made a desperate cry, a plea for her innocence that made logical sense. However, Nelcius simply shook his head.

“If a person ingests bloodworm eggs but regularly drinks a decoction of Anemujina fruit and Muldran leaves, the eggs will never hatch and will be expelled from the body. Isn’t that right?”

Jane’s face twisted at his words. That reaction alone was proof enough that Nelcius had hit the mark.

Without a word, Jane lunged toward Julianus, who had collapsed on the carpet. A dagger had suddenly appeared in her grip, its blade blackened with poison. Her movements were swift and merciless, a stark contrast with the innocent-looking maid she had seemed to be. Despite her humble appearance, this girl had clearly undergone extensive and rigorous training. Unfortunately for Jane, her attempt was far too reckless. Before she could reach her target, Nelcius, empowered with martial thaumaturgy, intercepted her.

His knife flashed through the air. A spray of red blood scattered through the room as Jane’s body collapsed onto the carpet.

“An instant kill...” Joshua murmured as he knelt beside her and placed two fingers on her neck, checking for any sign of a pulse. Then, he slowly shook his head. No one in the room looked surprised by the statement based on how Nelcius’s dagger had left a gaping wound in Jane’s throat. Judging by the sheer amount of blood soaking into the carpet, it was obvious she had died instantly.

“I apologize. I had no choice but to kill her,” Nelcius said after a pause, bowing his head toward Joshua.

But Joshua slowly shook his head in response.

“No. Given the circumstances, it’s enough that His Majesty is safe,” Joshua replied, a deep sigh escaping his lips. “To think an assassin had been hiding right beside His Majesty all this time... Who sent her?”

Joshua’s mind was already racing with thoughts about the next course of action. This was an assassination attempt on the king, meaning the culprit had to be identified and dealt with immediately. Beyond that, there was the issue of how to respond to the O’ltormea Empire. But just as his mind threatened to spiral into chaos, a hand of salvation reached him.

“What is this?”

Joshua’s eyes widened as Nelcius suddenly handed him a sealed letter.

Nelcius merely shrugged at this confusion and said, “A proposal. From Lord Mikoshiba to you.”

Joshua’s expression darkened with bewilderment. But if it was a letter from his ally, he couldn’t simply ignore it. He broke the wax seal and immediately began to read. When his eyes reached the final line, a long, heavy sigh escaped him.

“I see... So that’s the game plan. Use this situation to our advantage.”

Nelcius grinned and gave a firm nod because he knew this was the only chance left for the Kingdom of Xarooda to turn the tables.

Four days had passed since Nelcius treated the king and Jane’s assassination attempt failed. Julianus listened to the entire story in silence, his expression increasingly grim. Yet, the fact that he did not interrupt even once was proof of his restraint.

“I see... So that wretched parasite was inside my body. And the one who planted it was Jane, the very maid who had been tending to me all this time.”

He sighed heavily. Jane had been a sharp-witted, reliable servant—perhaps even a favorite. When he learned she had been an assassin all along, it was difficult to remain composed. A hollow emptiness filled his chest, not unlike a grandfather mourning the loss of a grandchild. However, he had no time to dwell on such feelings. There was something far more pressing than the mere fact that Jane had been a traitor.

“My fierce young hawk, whom I have placed my trust in... I acknowledge the severity of this situation, but must we truly go this far?” The fortunate old man, who had barely escaped death’s grasp, questioned the young man standing beside his bed.

Was there anger in his words? Even though he was still too weak to leave his bed, his spirit remained unbroken. His sharp gaze bored into the young man, filled with a clear, unwavering will. And yet, deep within his eyes, there was the faintest trace of hesitation in King Julianus I Xaroodias.

This ruler was often dismissed as either a dullard or a fool. But with the sheer force of presence radiating from his words, it was clear that such opinions were misguided. The quiet, unassuming king was nowhere to be seen.

Even as Julianus I glared angrily at Joshua Belares, the man called the Hawk did not flinch. Instead, he simply nodded.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Do you truly understand how much blood will be spilled as a result of this decision?” Julianus’s voice was barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of a storm. His fists were clenched tightly, his shoulders trembling ever so slightly. This was the same question Joshua had once agonized over, but the answer had already been decided. It was simply Joshua’s turn to relay to Julianus the very same response Nelcius had given him. The facts remained unchanged, and the course of action remained the same. Only the participants and their roles had shifted. With Nelcius’s reasoning and the letter from Ryoma Mikoshiba in hand, there was only one possible conclusion.

Logically speaking, there’s no alternative. The only question left is whether His Majesty will make that choice... Or let his emotions dictate otherwise.

While disregarding human emotion was a mistake, clinging to it too tightly often led to even greater tragedy. That was why Joshua spoke plainly, leaving no room for hesitation.

“If Xarooda is to survive the next hundred years, this is a necessary sacrifice. Or do you intend to prolong this unwinnable war with the O’ltormea Empire? Shall we continue piling up the corpses of our people for a futile cause?”

Julianus’s face twisted because he already knew. Even the people of Xarooda had little faith in victory against O’ltormea. The kingdom was already at a disadvantage in terms of both national strength and military manpower. To make matters worse, their strongest ally, the Kingdom of Helnesgoula—leader of the four-kingdom alliance and the only power capable of rivaling O’ltormea—had yet to enter the war.

Still, the people fought on. Not because they believed in victory but out of loyalty to their nation. They fought because, despite his critics branding him as mediocre or foolish, Julianus’s rule had been accepted by his people. Therefore, Joshua would not hesitate to admonish his king, even if it meant earning his displeasure. Because he believed that the reign of Julianus I Xaroodias was worth defending—no matter the cost.

Indeed, they have secured victory in the recent Battle of the Ushas Basin. They have also successfully annihilated the enemy forces that had attempted a direct assault on the royal capital. The commanders sent by the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy have demonstrated formidable prowess. However, defeating the O’ltormea Empire will be difficult, even with their strength. At the very least, the kingdom has to unite as one, or we will have no future.

It was only a matter of time before the overwhelming numbers of the O’ltormea Empire crushed them entirely.

On top of that, there is the question of how the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy will act moving forward, thought Joshua.

Ever since the start of the conflict, the forces of the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy had faithfully upheld their obligations as part of the four-kingdom alliance. If the Kingdom of Xarooda fell, the O’ltormea Empire’s next target would undoubtedly be the Kingdom of Rhoadseria. Inevitably, that would mean that the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy, a vassal of Rhoadseria, would not remain unscathed either. In that sense, Rhoadseria and Xarooda mutually depended on one another.

However, that does not mean we can demand unconditional aid from that man. After all, his grand duchy is not the ruling nation of this alliance.

As the leader of the four-kingdom alliance, the Kingdom of Helnesgoula should have taken the initiative in aiding Xarooda. In reality, the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy—merely a noble house of Rhoadseria—had made the greatest sacrifices thus far.

Besides, the individuals that man dispatched are all incredibly skilled.

Simply put, the fact that they had managed to hold back the O’ltormea Empire’s advance spoke volumes about the extraordinary abilities of the three commanders Ryoma Mikoshiba had sent. At the forefront was the fierce General Robert Bertrand, who had stationed himself at the Ushas Basin defensive line and relentlessly repelled the O’ltormea Empire’s advances. Lione the Crimson Lioness, who had remained in the royal capital of Peripheria, was dedicated to securing supplies and providing crucial logistical support. Signus Galveria assisted her, acting as a mediator among the nobles, but he also accomplished the critical task of eliminating a separate enemy assault force that had attempted to strike the capital.

The Kingdom of Xarooda would have already fallen had even one of these three been absent. If we miraculously emerge victorious in this war, there is no doubt that they will receive the greatest credit.

Of course, the Kingdom of Xarooda did not lack talented individuals. Joshua led figures such as Grahart Henschel, the captain of Xarooda’s Royal Guard, and Orson Greed, the captain of the Monarch’s Guard, who had dedicated themselves entirely to their duties, exerting every ounce of their strength day after day. But compared to the achievements of Robert and his companions, the accomplishments of Joshua and his men were utterly insignificant.

Perhaps it was more accurate to say that Robert and his companions had simply achieved too much. Adding to the problem, more than a few shameless nobles within the aristocratic circles of Peripheria had made disparaging remarks about the three commanders who had come as reinforcements.

To judge from their arguments, they believed, “If foreign reinforcements achieve such great military success, it is a disgrace to the people of Xarooda.”

That belief was true, in a way. Compared to the battlefield results that Robert and the others had delivered, Xarooda’s own forces had accomplished relatively little. For a nation renowned for its martial prowess, it was not surprising that many would see it as humiliating. Nevertheless, such words were never meant to be directed at the three reinforcements who had come to aid them. Instead, they were words that should have been used for self-reflection and to spur the warriors of Xarooda to rise up and reclaim their honor.

And yet, far too many had no regard for such reason or principles. Worse still, the very people shameless enough to voice these complaints were the ones who refused to leave the safety of the royal capital.

If they were so ashamed of the situation as citizens of Xarooda, they could march to the front with their own soldiers. It was, in truth, an incredibly simple solution. Should they meet an unfortunate fate and die in battle, their actions would align with their words and restore their dignity in the most direct manner possible. If that happened, the morale of the struggling Xarooda army would surely surge. Commoners of the capital, seeing such determination, might even rally behind the cause and offer their full cooperation, willing to make sacrifices for the kingdom. And yet, those nobles refused to take even that simple course of action out of nothing more than jealousy.

Or perhaps it was a deliberate act of sabotage by those who had secretly allied themselves with the O’ltormea Empire. Someone wanted to sow the seeds of discord between the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy and the Kingdom of Xarooda.

Even so, Joshua did not hold back his praise for the military achievements of Lione and her companions. Their accomplishments were truly remarkable, and no amount of denial could change the reality of the situation. If he foolishly attempted to align himself with the envious voices criticizing them, the man backing those three would never remain silent.

If all he did was withdraw his troops now, he would still have done us a tremendous favor, Joshua mused. At worst, that man was capable of pulling off something as audacious as negotiating a separate peace treaty with the O’ltormea Empire and then turning his forces against the Kingdom of Xarooda. Instead, that man has proposed a desperate gambit.

Certainly, one could not openly praise such a plan. Joshua understood all too well that war was not a place for naive ideals, but that did not mean he wished to willingly bear the shame of being called a coward. Still, the warrior’s intuition that had once been recognized by Arios Belares whispered to him, telling him that this was their moment.

Most likely, this is the last opportunity to turn the tide of war in our favor. Even when faced with Julianus’s sharp gaze of criticism, Joshua refused to take a single step back.

“But do you have any proof of their crimes? Are you telling me to punish innocent men for the sake of our kingdom’s survival?” asked Julianus I.

“No, Your Majesty, they are by no means innocent. We cannot prove their crimes, and they are not foolish. They would have already destroyed any evidence that could definitely implicate them.”

“Then the answer is clear!”

“And yet, Your Majesty knows as well as I do that a lack of proof does not mean they are innocent.”

Julianus’s face twisted with emotion. Even so, he understood it all too well.

Among the Xaroodian nobility, there were indeed traitors who had secretly aligned themselves with the O’ltormea Empire. Such an act amounted to high treason, a crime punishable by death. Their family names would be erased from history, and every direct descendant would be sentenced to execution.

Indeed, they should have been dealt with long ago. And yet His Majesty refused to act.

They had known about the traitors for some time. When the O’ltormea Empire’s first invasion of Xarooda ended in a ceasefire, even Ryoma Mikoshiba had warned them that this issue would become a decisive factor in the kingdom’s future.

Based on Julianus’s perspective, his decision not to go after the traitors had been entirely reasonable. After all, they had not been able to obtain any concrete evidence of the traitors’ crimes. Even if they knew these men were guilty, they could not prosecute them without definitive proof. From the standpoint of modern legal principles, that reasoning was not necessarily incorrect. Even if someone belonged to a criminal organization, they could not be convicted unless their crimes were proven—a concept deeply rooted in modern law. The principle of “innocent until proven guilty” was a widely recognized doctrine familiar to anyone with a passing interest in legal matters. However, that principle was only possible in a society that recognized human rights and upheld the rule of law. Such a perspective existed solely within such a framework.

By that standard, Julianus was an exceedingly rare figure in this world—a man of remarkable virtue and a progressive thinker. This was by no means a bad thing; it was something to be admired. However, when considering the governance of a nation, such an approach was a dangerous misstep.

At the very least, it severely restricts the range of available options, Joshua mused. For a mid-tier nation like the Kingdom of Xarooda, such restrictions were a crippling disadvantage. Our homeland is weak... Calling it weak might be somewhat misleading, but the unfortunate truth remains that we are not among the strong.

For someone commanding a national army, this was a reality he would rather not acknowledge. But no matter how bitterly Joshua resented it, this would not change. Only by confronting that bitter reality head-on could they find a path forward.

Compared to the O’ltormea Empire, one of the three great powers of the western continent, our kingdom is undeniably weak. In our current state, we do not have the luxury of choosing a path for survival. We should consider ourselves lucky to have been offered a way out.

The ability to choose from multiple options was granted only to the strong, and not only those with physical strength. The principle stayed the same whether one excelled in beauty, intelligence, or wealth. For instance, no one would argue against the idea that physically attractive individuals had an advantage in marriage and romantic relationships. Of course, just because someone was beautiful did not mean that everything would always go their way.

However, they had more freedom to set conditions for their potential partners than less attractive individuals. People often called them “those in a position to choose.” If one were intelligent, they could select their preferred school or job. But if they lacked intelligence, they had no such privilege. If a student had their heart set on a particular school but performed poorly on practice exams and begged their teachers for help, they might receive words of encouragement. Yet, in the end, the teachers would simply tell them, “Study harder.” Teachers might also advise the student to change their target school.

What about financial wealth? A wealthy person who visited a luxury clothing store, where a single outfit cost the equivalent of a gold coin or more, could freely choose a design they liked—so long as their budget allowed it. If they had ten gold coins in their wallet, they could spend all of them or walk away if nothing suited their taste. A person with only ten copper coins could not afford even a single gold-coin-priced garment. No matter how much they desired such an expensive piece of clothing, purchasing it simply was not an option with only ten copper coins.

Still, this was nothing more than a simple reality. There was no injustice or unfairness, and everyone understood this wholeheartedly. Those who lacked the right to choose would have to pay the price if they tried to overreach.

Yes, O’ltormea understood it perfectly.

In terms of marriage and romance, someone who aimed too high beyond their means would be met with ridicule, and their chances of finding a partner would plummet. If one was not intelligent, one’s lifetime earnings would differ significantly from those who were. The definition of intelligence could vary, but having an education or qualifications usually resulted in higher wages.

The same applied to the dire predicament in which the Kingdom of Xarooda had found itself.

Changing the tide of this disadvantageous situation would require a price. If we do not wish to bow before the might of the O’ltormea Empire, we have no choice but to bear the hefty and bitter price.

What needed to be done was simple and clear. The only question had been whether Xarooda had the resolve to bear the cost. Fortunately, Julianus seemed to possess that determination and resolve.

“Your Majesty... Please make your decision.”

“Very well, Joshua Belares, the young hawk who will carry this kingdom forward. I shall accept your proposal.”

Julianus’s voice reverberated as if wrung from the depths of his soul. As Joshua deeply bowed in response to Julianus’s decision, he quietly left the room.

Later that day, there was a commotion among the nobles. News of the king’s demise had spread from the spies hiding within the palace, which would set off a slew of conflicts among the nobles. After all, the demise of their leader did not bode well for the nation of Xarooda. The traitors thinking of cozying up to the O’ltormea Empire all raised their glasses to celebrate the news of Julianus’s death. At the same time, the patriots who had called for all-out resistance against the empire’s invasion wept over the king’s passing. The news had indeed split the Kingdom of Xarooda in two.

“So, that half-dead old fool finally kicked the bucket?”

This took place in a corner of the royal capital, Peripheria, where the mansions of powerful noble families stood side by side. In one such mansion, a man burst with joy upon receiving news of the king’s passing. He must have fervently wished for the death of Julianus I. Since he was in his mansion’s study, he savored his delight without a hint of restraint.

The man was Marquis Ernest Almholt, the current head of the House Almholt and the grandson of Alegria, the sister of Julianus I. He appeared to be in his early thirties. Perhaps due to years of indulgent living, the top of his head had gone bald, and his body had grown quite corpulent overall. His height was approximately one hundred seventy centimeters. While he had likely been handsome when younger, that image was nowhere to be seen.

He was considered a rather unusual figure in Xarooda—a kingdom famed for its martial spirit, where most nobles were warrior types who never neglected their training. Regardless, it was not entirely without reason. Of the two legs that supported his massive frame, his left was a prosthetic. Indeed, Ernest’s body had grown fat. From the perspective of the Xarooda nobility, who valued the warrior’s path above all, it was natural that Ernest was derided behind his back as a lazy swine. However, he could not bear the entire blame for his condition, and looking down on him as a person because of it would have been a mistake.

Moreover, his lack of warrior training did not mean he could be dismissed outright as unfit for nobility. In fact, no one in Xarooda’s noble society dared to underestimate Marquis Almholt. Why? Misfortune always befell those who mocked or insulted him. Sometimes, it was the sudden, accidental death of a family member. Other times, it was the exposure of corruption that ultimately led to the ruin of an entire house. There had never been any proof that Ernest Almholt had orchestrated these tragedies. But when people considered who had benefited from those outcomes, the culprit was often all too easy to guess.

Ernest had deliberately acted in ways that made others think he was guilty. It had been a form of intimidation and coercion. His actions had not been the most praiseworthy; that much was certain. As a result, no single person within Xarooda’s noble society dared to mock Ernest Almholt or his house. In that sense, no one in the Kingdom of Xarooda embodied the essence of nobility more than him.

He was greedy, self-serving, and, above all, someone who prioritized the survival of his own house. That might have made him a proper noble, but he wasn’t exactly the sort one would want to get too close to. In stark contrast to that unpleasant nature, Ernest Almholt possessed remarkable political skill as a feudal lord. Governance within the Almholt marquisate had remained highly stable. At the very least, he had been a good lord to his people. In light of the significant profits earned through mining and forestry, he could be counted among the most capable lords in the entire Kingdom of Xarooda. Despite his lack of martial prowess, his mind was exceptionally sharp. In particular, his talent for diplomacy and for plotting the downfall of political rivals far exceeded the ordinary.

One could consider Marquis Ernest a rare and valuable asset in a kingdom like Xarooda, where martial temperament was the norm. If Ernest Almholt had one flaw, he might have seen too far ahead.

Foolish great-uncle... Why did he make such a reckless decision to oppose the O’ltormea Empire? If not for that, I wouldn’t have had to stoop to the shameful act of selling out my country, thought Marquis Ernest.

Nonetheless, it was little more than a convenient shifting of blame. Ernest Almholt had chosen to secretly communicate with the O’ltormea Empire, leaking information from within Xarooda. He had formed the prosubmission faction—the Allegiance Party—alongside like-minded nobles eager to curry favor with the empire, promoting surrender and manipulating public opinion. Deep resentment and a long-standing grudge existed between Ernest and his great-uncle, Julianus I, born from a decision Julianus made in his younger days.

Even after decades had passed, that decision had remained deeply etched into the core of who Ernest Almholt was. It was precisely because of that lingering resentment that he had gone so far as to purchase the eggs of the deadly “bloodworms” from the southern continent and hire a seasoned assassin. That alone stood as undeniable proof that Ernest Almholt had truly wished for the death of Julianus I Xaroodias.

And yet, they were still bound by blood. Conflicting emotions swirled within Ernest.

But now, everything will change. If that’s the case, there’s no need to agonize over it any longer.

For Ernest, nothing was more important than the survival and prosperity of the Almholt marquisate. In particular, the continuation of the family name was an absolute imperative. He also desired prosperity if it could be achieved. Developing the territory and attaining economic wealth were important goals in their own right. However, when forced to choose between prosperity and the survival of the family name, the latter clearly took precedence.

For better or worse, he had always been a realist, prioritizing risk avoidance above all else. In truth, that way of thinking was by no means mistaken for the head of a noble house. But for a man so devoted to the preservation of his family name to go as far as to collude with the O’ltormea Empire and plot the assassination of his own king, there had to be reasons befitting such an extreme course of action.

“You are too soft, dear uncle... Too soft and far too weak to be king. And worse than that, a loathsome hypocrite.”

Those words might have captured one of the very reasons he had conspired to kill the king. Of course, Ernest acknowledged that his great-uncle Julianus was a good man. But to him, being a good man and being a good king were not the same, and goodness alone was not enough. There were times when cruelty and ruthlessness, more than kindness or mercy, were what could truly save a nation. It wasn’t a matter of one being right and the other wrong. Both were right. Both were necessary.

You never understood that...

Ernest had once been a young man who placed the prosperity of the Kingdom of Xarooda and the happiness of its people above all else. As such, he was mocked by those around him as a naive idealist. But for Ernest, such ridicule had meant nothing. As long as something firm and unshakable existed within his heart, the opinions of others held no sway over him.

What use are chivalry and patriotism if they can’t even avenge my mother? What value is there in a justice that can’t deliver that much?

He knew who the culprit was. The incident had stemmed from an escalating conflict over water rights in a village within the domain. Tensions had nearly ignited a full-blown clash with the neighboring Count Segroa’s territory. By then, Ernest’s father had already passed away from illness, and his mother, Consuela, had been managing the domain as its lady lord. But because she was a woman, the surrounding nobles had looked down on her, which had been most likely the root cause of the conflict.

Disputes between nobles were typically expected to be resolved through negotiation—an unspoken understanding among the aristocracy. But Count Segroa’s house had refused to make even the slightest concession.

To rein in the Segroa family’s tyranny, Consuela had set out with twelve-year-old Ernest in tow to petition her uncle Julianus, who resided in the royal capital of Peripheria. It was on that journey that the “accident” occurred.

The wheel of their carriage had snapped off and sent them plummeting over a cliff. Naturally, everyone suspected foul play by House Segroa. Clear, fresh saw marks had been found on the broken axle. Given the circumstances and the parties involved, most people had little doubt that the Segroa family was behind it. And yet, Julianus had declared it an accident. Contrary to expectations, House Segroa faced no consequences whatsoever.

Julianus I had clearly decided based on his own sense of justice and personal conscience. From a neutral standpoint, it had indeed been difficult to prove the Segroa family’s guilt. The saw marks merely indicated tampering, but no objective evidence linked the sabotage directly to Count Segroa or his people.

But Julianus’s decision had shattered young Ernest’s heart beyond repair.

An accident? Don’t make me laugh...

Every time he recalled that day, a flame of hatred ignited within him. Over the years, that hatred had twisted Ernest’s heart and turned him into a demon of vengeance. He had longed for the death of Julianus I Xaroodias, the hypocrite who had so callously abandoned him and his mother.

At last, that demon had fulfilled its wish. Telling him not to rejoice would have been impossible. On top of that, Ernest carried the blood of the Xaroodias royal line and held a legitimate claim to the throne.

This claim wasn’t guaranteed, but with the right maneuvering, the possibility of ascending as the next king of Xarooda was within reach. It truly was the springtime of his life and moment of triumph.

“Send word to Count Kilhorn and Viscount Voltaire. Gather the nobles who support our cause. As soon as the king’s death is officially announced, we will storm the royal castle!”

After Ernest fired a rapid string of orders to the waiting butler, he immediately turned toward his writing desk.

Mobilize the troops, secure provisions... No, perhaps I should report the situation to the empire first.

In any case, there was a mountain of tasks waiting to be handled. And so, Ernest threw all his strength into action, unaware that it would ultimately lead to his downfall.

Two days later, the news Ernest had so eagerly awaited finally arrived. Around thirty nobles of Xarooda who had chosen to remain in Peripheria had assembled in the audience chamber.

Given that the O’ltormea forces were rampaging through the countryside, and these nobles made their decision to be here instead of defending their lands, it wasn’t difficult to imagine what sort of men they were.

“Hmph... So the path of peaceful resolution is no longer an option, then.”

In a waiting room adjacent to the audience chamber, Julianus I sighed deeply as he listened to Joshua’s report on the scene. Was it disappointment that colored his voice?

Despair was the more accurate word.

Standing beside him as a witness, Lione cast a sorrowful gaze toward the despondent Julianus, who had been crushed by Joshua’s report. Of course, Julianus had already known. But understanding and accepting something with the heart were two very different things.

Until he had heard Joshua’s words, Julianus had likely held on to a sliver of hope somewhere deep within. He did not want to admit that traitors, eager to sell out their homeland, were crawling at his very feet.

Julianus I had undoubtedly been aware of their presence. And yet, he had believed that by showing them leniency and extending his mercy, time would eventually resolve the matter. But now, that faint hope Julianus had clung to had evaporated like mist. Nothing but beasts driven by naked greed remained, an unbearable sight for a man still recovering from illness.

Even so, Joshua did not soften his words. Without mercy, he delivered his ultimatum.

“Then, shall we abandon the plan? Lord Nelcius and the others should already be advancing their forces northward.”

Joshua’s voice was firm and cold, unlike normal. But that sternness was itself a form of loyalty. This reflected his devotion to his liege and the compassion that arose from understanding his burden. In truth, kindness had no place here.

Xarooda needed the resolve and the readiness to shed blood. And Joshua understood that well, to which Julianus I slowly shook his head.

“No... That’s no longer an option. If we back down now, this country truly will fall.” With deliberate motion, Julianus I rose from his chair. He took Lione’s hand, then bowed his head deeply. “Lady Lione, I entrust this to you. Please, I beg of you.”

Lione gave a small nod in return. “Aye. Leave it to me, Your Majesty.”

After making a graceful bow, Lione turned on her heel and left the waiting room at a brisk pace.

Just like Nelcius and his men advancing north, she had a vital role to play.

“It is time, Your Majesty,” Joshua said softly once Lione had disappeared, gazing at Julianus.

Joshua signaled the beginning of the purge of traitors who had sold out their country for personal gain and fleeting glory. When Julianus appeared before the assembly, the air in the audience chamber froze. After all, the king—believed to be dead—was alive and standing before them.

The gathered nobles experienced a metaphorical thunderclap from a clear sky. In that instant, a metallic tang spread like rusted iron across Ernest Almholt’s tongue. The king had faked his death to summon them here, and there could be only one reason for such a move.

So this is how he treats me... His own blood... Just like before, he’s casting me aside.

Even Ernest knew deep down that such thoughts were nothing more than misplaced resentment. He had decided to conspire with the O’ltormea Empire in pursuit of glory and power. And so, this was nothing more than the natural consequence of his choices—reaping what he had sown. Yet even with that knowledge, Ernest’s heart burned with fury and hatred toward Julianus, the flames of resentment raging uncontrollably within him.

But there was no longer any path left to change the outcome. Ernest’s fate had already been sealed when he entered this audience chamber. All that remained for Ernest was to glare at Julianus, seated upon the throne.

“You sanctimonious fool... May you rot in damnation!”

It was a pitiful act of rebellion, one final show of defiance from a man abandoned by his great-uncle and now staring death in the face. But even that muttered curse was drowned out, lost to the clamor of armored boots as the elite knights of the Royal Guard surged into the hall.

At that very moment, along the road leading to the northern gates of Peripheria, a massive army of over ten thousand was marching southward, kicking up clouds of dust as it moved. Robert Bertrand watched the procession from a hilltop overlooking the valley.

He tightly gripped his beloved battle axe, eagerly awaiting the signal to ignite the coming battle.

“Well, well... That’s a fine-looking force down there. Gotta hand it to them. Say what you will, the Kingdom of Xarooda is truly still a nation of warriors. Rotten at the top, maybe, but those soldiers look like they’ll put up a decent fight.”

At his side, Signus Galveria nodded in agreement.

“It seems the army is centered around House Almholt. On their flanks, you’ve got Count Kilhorn and Viscount Voltaire. The rest are filled in with lesser nobles. I’d estimate their numbers at around thirty thousand.”

Robert gave a low whistle at the report and replied, “Thirty thousand, huh... With a force like that, we could give those O’ltormea dogs a real beating. Can’t imagine what’s going through the heads of cowards who’d rather use that army to stab their own kingdom in the back.”

Indeed, Robert had a point. Thirty thousand troops could have relieved the fatigued Xaroodian forces who were fighting tooth and nail against O’ltormea’s daily onslaught. They could’ve been used to bolster the capital’s defenses or even reclaim lost ground. Either way, with a sizable host, they could have served the kingdom in countless ways.

Robert and his allies were about to shatter the army that was raised and moved out of personal ambition. There was no greater waste of human life than this.

However, Signus held a different perspective. “Well, it can’t be helped. The nobles are the kind of disgraceful lot who’d sell out their own homeland just to climb the ranks. Might be better to wipe them all out in one go. That way, the opportunists and defeatists will think twice before opening their mouths again.”

Such philosophy was rooted in the idea of punishing one to warn a hundred. That was precisely the intent behind this strategy proposed by Ryoma Mikoshiba, so it was hardly surprising.

“Well then, Master Nelcius... Looks like it’s about time we got started,” Robert said with a grin.

Nelcius responded with a quiet nod. “Indeed. Gentlemen, follow the plan as discussed.”

With that, Nelcius turned and began walking toward his forces, which had been on standby near the royal road. His steps were so light it seemed he was merely taking a stroll near his home. At the very least, he didn’t look like a man about to march into battle.

But that was to be expected. A one-sided rampage by monsters who had long transcended the limits of human nature was about to unfold.

A few hours later, the army of thirty thousand soldiers advancing south toward Peripheria was halted when they encountered a blocking force of ten thousand soldiers led by Grahart Henschel, the captain of the Kingdom of Xarooda’s Royal Guard. The road, flanked on both sides by dense forests, was completely occupied by the thirty thousand soldiers.

“Captain! A messenger from House Almholt has arrived!” said a scout, to which Grahart nodded slightly. Everything was unfolding just as expected.

Although they’re in league with the O’ltormea Empire, the sight of the Kingdom of Xarooda’s flag flying over the Royal Guard likely made them hesitate to open hostilities. The heads of all the noble houses are in the capital. Besides, this army is just a mishmash of forces. Their command structure is probably disorganized. Indeed, it would be difficult for House Almholt to declare war on us under these circumstances.

There was no doubt that their master was a traitor who had sold out their homeland of Xarooda and that these were his comrades. Simply put, they could be called rebels.

From Grahart’s all-knowing perspective, House Almholt and their allies were nothing more than enemies. They were treasonous conspirators who deserved nothing but disdain. But they had not yet openly turned their backs on the Kingdom of Xarooda.

The nobles believe betrayal is the trump card that can drastically change the situation. Moreover, if that trump card can only be used once...

Naturally, they would want to play that card at the most opportune moment. With the head of the house absent, they would clearly stop their march and send a messenger to confirm the situation. But this very line of thinking was the perfect trap.

Everything has unfolded exactly as I predicted. Nelcius is truly a terrifying man...

The image of the handsome man with dark skin and silver hair appeared in Grahart’s mind. He was determined to fulfill his role and ordered his subordinates to charge with the full force of the army. For the rebels, waiting for an opportunity to carry out their own betrayal, it was an unexpected ambush that must have caused immeasurable shock.

However, the misfortune of the rebels did not end there.

In response to Grahart’s charge, the elite troops of the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy’s army cut in from both sides of the forest. By the time the sun began to set on the western horizon, the road was stained red with the blood of the rebel soldiers. This, coupled with the purges occurring in the capital simultaneously, marked the turning point for the Kingdom of Xarooda. They had crushed those who favored surrendering to the O’ltormea Empire.

Chapter 4: Daijin’s Doubt

A long line of people had formed in front of the gates of Pherzaad. Their appearances varied, but they simply stood in silence, waiting for the line to move forward. Some were farmers who had come from nearby villages, carrying vegetables they had harvested. Others were merchants leading several wagons behind them. There were also mercenaries clad in armor and helmets as well as adventurers who had completed guild-assigned quests.

Though they all lived in the same world, the essence of their lives differed greatly. Farmers devoted themselves wholeheartedly to tilling the land and growing crops. Merchants exhausted themselves in battles of wits against cunning rivals in their trade. Meanwhile, mercenaries and adventurers made their living by risking their lives in combat against monsters and other humans alike. And yet, their goal was the same. They had all lined up at the gates of this city to earn the means to survive another day.

This scene was not unique to the western gate; it likely unfolded similarly at the northern and southern gates as well.

Pherzaad is vital to those living in the surrounding villages, adventurers seeking work, and merchants dreaming of sudden riches. It’s truly the heart of the economy—a lifeline to many, Ryoma mused.

At that very moment, Pherzaad was in a state of high alert. Because Pherzaad supported the local economy as a trade hub, it wasn’t possible to completely shut down the flow of people entering and leaving the city. Instead, the gatekeepers reportedly began inspecting belongings and verifying identities in addition to collecting the usual entrance tax.

So that’s why the line is so long... Well, I suppose being allowed in at all is better than being turned away, Ryoma thought, sighing and casually glancing around him.

Pherzaad was known as the city of trade, part of the three-kingdom alliance in the eastern region of the western continent, and the home port of the Kingdom of Myest’s navy, which was rumored to be the most powerful fleet on the continent. It also served as the largest trading hub in the western continent, holding a monopoly over commerce with the central continent. In truth, one could describe its scale as colossal.

The city could rival Endesia, the capital of the Kingdom of Myest, and O’ltormea, the capital of the empire. Even across the vast western continent, there were likely fewer than ten cities that could compare to Pherzaad. One could say it surpassed even the likes of Venice—the so-called Queen of the Adriatic Sea known for its economic clout through Mediterranean and Eastern trade in medieval Europe—or Genoa, famed as the Splendid City.

In fact, the massive port facilities built along the eastern coast of Pherzaad saw dozens of galleon ships arriving and departing each day. If one included the medium-sized carracks and even smaller vessels, the number would multiply many times over. Even if the smallest rowboats were counted, the total surely would have exceeded a thousand.

All those ships were loaded with mountains of trade goods, destined for locations across the western continent and even beyond to other continents. It would be no exaggeration to say that each and every one of those ships brought immense wealth to both House Hellner, which ruled the city of Pherzaad, and the Kingdom of Myest.

Goods like tea from the Holy Qwiltantia Empire and swords from the Kingdom of Xarooda came from the western continent. These were traded for spices, sandalwood incense, carpets, and woolen textiles shipped in from the central continent.

In intercontinental trade, it was not everyday essentials like foodstuffs, but luxury items like tea and masterfully crafted weapons that drew the most attention. Pherzaad’s merchants redistributed spices and woolens imported from the central continent.

From there, the imports were carried across the entire western continent by small and mid-sized trading companies and individual traveling merchants. It was, in every sense, a fountain of wealth.

To the Kingdom of Myest and House Hellner, Pherzaad was nothing short of a lucky hammer—a source of endless riches referenced in Japanese folklore. One could literally call it Myest’s lifeline. This enormous economic power had fostered the growth of its formidable navy.

Perhaps it’s more accurate to say that Pherzaad needs such overwhelming military power because it has amassed such vast economic strength.

The world people called Earth was full of threats to commerce. Chief among them were the creatures known as monsters. In this world, humans did not sit at the top of the food chain, and calling them the apex was laughable.

Of course, a mysterious power known as thaumaturgy existed. But only a limited number of people could wield that power, and even among them, their strength varied wildly. Thaumaturgy was merely a learned technique, and not innate. Its potency depended heavily on talent and hard work.

I’d even heard rumors of a warrior capable of slaying a dragon single-handedly, but that doesn’t mean humans can be called the rulers of this world.

Just because a rare few individuals were incredibly strong didn’t mean the human race as a whole was powerful. When it came to the monsters known as giant species and dragons at their peak, they existed on an entirely different level.

I encountered the King of Sand dwelling in the desert of the Kingdom of Helnesgoula and the Eagle Lord when I tried to cross the mountain range separating the Kingdom of Xarooda and the O’ltormea Empire... Ryoma had personally witnessed creatures classed as giant species twice. But in just those two encounters, he had come to understand the terrifying reality of their existence. Those things were straight out of a B-movie monster flick.

Even among the giant species, not all that were classified as such related to the race. Some rare exceptions included dragons or the so-called Eagle Lords.

For instance, the King of Sand was a colossal creature that had originally been a single sandworm, a member of a relatively common species. Over many years, it had survived constant competition, eventually mutating and growing to a monstrous size, stretching hundreds of meters in length. While it was a terrifying threat, it was merely a single freak mutation at the end of the day. The likelihood of another sandworm ever reaching the same scale and power as the King of Sand was extremely low. It was not impossible, but it might not happen again for another century or two.

The Eagle Lord had indeed ruled the skies with its enormous wingspan, but even that ruler had met its end at the hands of the Malfist sisters and their combined thaumaturgy. Undoubtedly, the giant species occupied a place near the top of the food chain and posed a serious threat to humankind. But that didn’t make them the absolute rulers of this world. Perhaps there was no definitive answer to the question, and it might never be settled.

Well, yeah... That’s exactly why no one can say what really sits at the top of the food chain in this world.

Such notions were the reason people continued to seek strength. At the very least, humans could overcome even the giant species with enough effort. For that reason, the Kingdom of Myest had funneled the immense wealth it earned through trade with the central continent into strengthening its navy.

As Ryoma was lost in these thoughts, it seemed his turn had finally come.

“Next!”

Following the guard’s command, Ryoma stepped forward. He placed three gold coins into the outstretched palm held before him. A greedy, base expression flickered across the gatekeeper’s face, showing he understood Ryoma’s intent perfectly.

“All right, three silver coins received. Very well. Permission granted! The two behind you can go through too!”

Shortly after, the guard stepped aside to let them pass. Ryoma gave a small nod in response and, along with his companions waiting behind him, walked beneath the gate and into the city. They would usually have been questioned about their identities and the purpose of their visit, but the little “incentive” Ryoma had offered had clearly smoothed the way.

Pherzaad, huh. A city I just can’t seem to shake.

Ryoma passed beneath the towering city gate with thick, high walls that loomed above him. Beyond them lay a bustling marketplace, alive with the sound of countless people moving to and fro. On both sides of the main road, stalls were tightly packed together, their vendors shouting to attract customers. Given the supposed heightened security, Ryoma had expected a more subdued atmosphere. But to his surprise, the city seemed livelier than ever.

“Business as usual, it seems. I thought this incident might’ve taken the edge off the crowds a little,” remarked Sara.

“I thought the same as Sara,” another companion agreed. “Lady Cassandra Hellner must truly be an exceptional leader.”

Ryoma Mikoshiba gave a deep nod in agreement and said, “Well, she is a formidable woman said to stand shoulder to shoulder with the likes of Ecclesia and Alexis Duran. In that sense, it’s no surprise. But whatever happens from here on out is anyone’s guess.”

According to reports from the Igasaki clan, Cassandra Hellner had yet to make any significant moves. She hadn’t shown signs of pledging loyalty to King Owen, nor had she rallied the nearby nobles around Pherzaad to form any sort of opposition.

Considering that nearly all of Cassandra Hellner’s military power lies in the navy, it’s not strange that she’s keeping still.

The Kingdom of Myest’s navy under her command was said to be the most elite force on the western continent. But no matter how powerful a navy might be at sea, winning a war through naval power alone was nearly impossible. Even if you drove the enemy from the waters, the war wouldn’t end unless you could occupy their strongholds.

If we’re talking about harbors or coastal towns, ships could sail in and seize them. But for inland positions, the navy’s utility becomes limited.

If she had battleships like the Yamato or Musashi, equipped with massive cannons, perhaps she could shell enemy fortresses from a distance and level them. But even then, she’d be destroying them—not taking them. Ground forces were necessary to capture territory. There was no way around it. That was why, even in the modern age, militaries had developed specialized units like the marines and naval landing forces. Naval firepower alone wasn’t enough to win wars.

Based on how naval battles in this world often devolve into close-quarters combat once ships are boarded, it’s probably safe to assume that marines here aren’t exactly helpless when it comes to fighting on land, Ryoma thought. Regardless, being able to do something and being good at it were two very different things. Besides, using highly trained marines for land battles and letting them get worn down seems like a huge waste.

Of course, deploying marines on land wasn’t especially difficult. While they might be unable to fight in coordinated formations like land troops trained specifically for ground warfare, charging into the enemy and clashing swords was well within their capabilities. Even marines trained for naval combat didn’t live on ships all the time, after all. But the reverse—loading up land troops onto ships and expecting them to fight a naval battle—was a whole different beast. Putting ordinary soldiers aboard didn’t mean they’d be of any use in a sea fight.

In fact, some soldiers might flat-out refuse to board out of fear of the water.

Of course, flat-out refusal wouldn’t get them far. Soldiers didn’t have the luxury of defying orders from their commanding officers. Anyone foolish enough to argue might literally find their head flying off.

They’d probably board the ship if ordered, even if reluctantly... But fighting aboard one? That’s a different story. Most of them can’t even swim.

Taking a dip in a river or lake now and then was one thing, but unless they were fishermen, most soldiers had little to no opportunity to learn. For a soldier who couldn’t swim, being thrown overboard wasn’t just dangerous; it was basically a death sentence. That undeniable and visceral fear would cling to them like chains. Fear like that didn’t just stay in the mind. It crept into the body and dragged down everything.

There’s no way soldiers like that could actually fight at sea. Honestly, they’d probably be too busy puking from seasickness to even draw their swords. Naturally, they’d need to start by simply getting used to being on the water. In this world, swimming is practically a specialized skill, after all.

During the civil war in the Kingdom of Rhoadseria, Ryoma had chosen to flood a city specifically because he’d heard about this unique vulnerability of the people. The real question was whether it was necessary to deploy marines—who had such a rare and valuable skill set—for land combat in the first place.

It’s not like it’s impossible. If there’s a major disparity in troop numbers, calling on the marines to help balance the scales might be a valid option... But is that really the right call now?

The decision would depend on the circumstances. Deploying marines for ground combat would certainly result in higher casualties. The issue was whether the objective justified taking that kind of loss.

Ultimately, soldiers are meant to be expended. It wouldn’t make sense to avoid using them just to keep losses low, at least from a military standpoint.

From a modern ethical perspective, that mindset might seem inhuman. It would be unpalatable and downright condemnable if spoken aloud. And yet, from a purely military viewpoint, Ryoma wasn’t wrong.

Wars couldn’t be fought while factoring in the personal feelings and backgrounds of every individual soldier. If one started to treat troops like delicate humans rather than strategic pieces, they would tie their own hands. That self-imposed limitation would, without question, lead to more danger for the very soldiers one was trying to protect—wasting lives, not saving them.

At the very least, you shouldn’t get emotionally attached to each and every soldier. You should avoid thinking about their personal lives or futures. Soldiers are pieces on a board. Anyone in a position of command has to understand that.

Hesitating to sacrifice a single piece could easily cost you ten more, defeating the entire purpose.

No victory without sacrifice? Or was it no victory without pain? There are so many versions floating around that I can’t even remember which one’s the original anymore... They’re all starting to blur together. Ryoma’s mind drifted to one of those phrases. It was a variation of a quote attributed to William Penn, a seventeenth-century English statesman. There were too many similar expressions to keep track of. He wasn’t even sure which was technically correct anymore. But in the end, the phrasing didn’t matter because the core idea stayed the same. The only real difference is the cost you’re willing to pay.

The fundamentals of human society didn’t change, whether in the modern world or this other one. Applying that cold logic made the conclusion obvious: Using marines for ground combat was wasteful. At the very least, it was a choice best avoided if any alternatives existed.

War will never vanish, and victory will always demand sacrifice. But that’s exactly why soldiers must be allocated wisely. And it’s our duty to reduce those sacrifices however we can by always aiming for the best possible outcome.

There was a saying that “A swift strike is better than a clever delay.” But in the Kingdom of Myest’s current situation, careful planning and deliberate action were far more valuable than haste.

If the navy is forced to move here, Alexis Duran would either mobilize his troops or resort to schemes to deal with the situation from Endesia. Either way, it would inevitably plunge the Kingdom of Myest into a state of internal strife, Ryoma thought, knowing this move would decide the fate of Myest. Cassandra Hellner understands this well. Or rather, it’s precisely because she has the strategic insight to understand this that she’s one of the three generals.

When the time came, Cassandra would mobilize her forces. Even if she knew that it would drag the Kingdom of Myest into full-scale internal conflict, she wouldn’t hesitate. But at this point, there were still far too many unknowns.

Cassandra would likely be focused on the movements of Ecclesia Marinelle, so she refrained from making any overt decisions.

The trading city of Pherzaad... Strategically speaking, this city holds an incredibly significant position.

After all, Pherzaad was the home port of the Kingdom of Myest’s navy, and Cassandra Hellner, who held the reins of command, was practically the city’s patron.

Now that the southern part of Myest has fallen under the control of the false king Owen and Alexis Duran, Cassandra Hellner’s influence in the northern territories—and her navy—is undeniably a key factor in determining the outcome of the war. No matter where she faces General Duran, the battle will take place within the kingdom’s borders. In such a scenario, securing supply lines becomes crucial, and Pherzaad is absolutely essential to control.

Even Ryoma Mikoshiba had ships at his disposal for naval battles. But the primary mission of the galleons owned by Ryoma was trade along the northern route centered around the city of Sirius. As a result, they generated revenue in the hundreds of thousands, even millions, of gold coins each month. If Ryoma were to use these trading galleons as warships, the finances of the Mikoshiba Grand Duchy would inevitably suffer a sharp decline.

Given the savings accumulated so far, it’s not impossible to endure for a short period. But if it goes beyond six months, things would get difficult.

Furthermore, the galleons owned by the grand duchy were fundamentally trading vessels. While they could be repurposed for combat, they could not fight like proper warships of a dedicated navy. From this perspective, a positive relationship between Ryoma and Cassandra would be crucial.

It’s a strange thing... I never thought I would be returning to Pherzaad in this manner.

Perhaps Ryoma had a sense of nostalgia. But it wasn’t surprising that, beyond its strategic importance, the city of Pherzaad held a personal significance for Ryoma.

There had been several major turning points in Ryoma’s life. Of course, the biggest was being summoned to this world. But if Ryoma were to name another significant turning point, it would likely be the time he took on a request from the Adventurer’s Guild in Pherzaad. That led him to become involved in the civil war of the Kingdom of Rhoadseria.

And if I hadn’t gotten involved in the civil war of the Kingdom of Rhoadseria, there’s no way I would have ever come to rule the Wortenia Peninsula or risen to the rank of archduke.

Based on Ryoma’s assessment, it wouldn’t have been an exaggeration to say that the city of Pherzaad had granted Ryoma Mikoshiba the opportunity to challenge the gate of destiny. Once again, he returned to the trade city, steadily making his way toward the Adventurer’s Guild.

The reason? His meeting partner, Liu Daijin, had specified the guild as the place for their talk.

Was it merely coincidence? Something that could be called fate, perhaps?

“It’s probably not a coincidence... Is it?” Ryoma whispered.

“Lord Ryoma, is something the matter?” Sara tilted her head curiously.

He shook his head lightly and smiled.

“No... It’s nothing.”

Ryoma had a vague idea as to why Liu Daijin had chosen the Adventurer’s Guild as their meeting place. But there was no reason to share that guess with the Malfist sisters. In less than an hour, they’d hear the explanation straight from the man himself. As he thought about that, a familiar street finally came into view.

“This is the place.”

Upon confirming the sign that marked the guild, Ryoma, the Malfist sisters, and his bodyguards stepped through the doors. The moment they entered, the chatter of the adventurers inside ceased, and their gazes turned toward the newcomers.

They seemed like people sizing up someone new. Once the adventurers confirmed from Ryoma and his companions’ attire that they were fellow professionals, they quickly resumed what they were doing.

That kind of reaction was entirely natural for those who lived on Earth. Whether they were friend or foe—strong or weak—they were able to assess all that instantly.

For those who made their living from combat, like adventurers or mercenaries, staying alert to their surroundings was only common sense. After all, public safety in this world was abysmal. When one stepped outside their home, it became a savage wilderness ruled by the law of the jungle. That made it necessary to maintain constant vigilance.

Maybe it was more accurate to say that only those with that awareness ingrained into their very bodies could survive in a world like this. That awareness was also an especially vital skill for adventurers and mercenaries.

But there was something more than just sizing us up.

There had been a brief, sharp presence that hinted at killing intent and caution directed at the three of them.

But it was gone in an instant.

They’re probably part of the Organization.

After all, this was the meeting spot Liu Daijin had designated. It only made sense to assume that members of his Organization were already here, mingling among the crowd. As Ryoma approached the reception counter, the receptionist greeted him with a warm, cheerful smile.

“Welcome to the Adventurer’s Guild. May I ask you to present your identification first?”

Ryoma nodded slightly and pulled from his coat the ID he had obtained a few years ago in the imperial capital, placing it on the counter.

“Thank you very much. Now, would you kindly place your hand on this crystal?”

Following the receptionist’s prompt, he reached out toward the crystal orb on the counter.

“Ryoma Mikoshiba... Yes, we’ve been expecting you.” The receptionist stood from her seat, stepped out from behind the counter, and bowed politely to him. “Now then, I’ll explain the details of the request. If you wouldn’t mind, may we proceed to the meeting room?”

“Of course, I don’t mind. However...” Ryoma glanced subtly over his shoulder. It was an unspoken question whether he could bring the Malfist sisters with him. Ordinarily, their presence would likely be denied. After all, Ryoma Mikoshiba and the Organization had never exactly enjoyed a friendly relationship.

That description put it a little too mildly.

The Kingdom of Rhoadseria’s civil war... The O’ltormea Empire’s first invasion of the Kingdom of Xarooda... If those were all part of the Organization’s schemes, this incident with the Kingdom of Myest would make it the third time I’ve interfered with their plans.

All of that was nothing more than Ryoma’s speculation. There wasn’t a shred of physical evidence to back any of it up, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t the truth.

No... I’m probably right about this.

Describing their relationship as merely unfriendly would be a disservice, given their history. Hostile would be the more accurate term. Being a front for the Organization, the Adventurer’s Guild should have understood that well enough. Moreover, Ryoma was about to meet none other than Liu Daijin, one of the Organization’s elders.

When protecting someone of such high standing, anyone trained in martial arts or thaumaturgy would likely be a potential threat. Such people couldn’t turn away Ryoma, as he was the one scheduled for the meeting. But it was only logical that they wouldn’t want his bodyguards to accompany him. If Ryoma were the one in charge of security, he certainly wouldn’t allow any companions inside. And yet, the receptionist unexpectedly accepted his silent request without hesitation.

“Yes, of course. That won’t be a problem.” Then, she motioned for Ryoma and his companions to follow her toward the staircase leading to the second floor.

Hmm... Was I overthinking it? Ryoma thought briefly.

Still, it wasn’t unreasonable for him to be cautious. Ryoma didn’t have any solid information about the group people referred to simply as “the Organization.” All he had were the scattered pieces of intelligence gathered by the Igasaki clan and by Simone Christof, including the conclusions he had drawn from those reports.

And the reason for that mystery? His grandfather, Koichiro, had always been reluctant to speak about it.

What Koichiro had told Ryoma was simple. He had once belonged to the Organization, and when he was summoned to Earth, he had relied on the help of an old friend—Liu Daijin.

In response, Ryoma had chosen not to press his grandfather for more answers.

Well, I can guess why. My grandfather probably figured that if he told me too much about the Organization, they’d take that as a reason to seriously come after me.

The Organization was a group that lurked in the shadows of the western continent, fiercely concealing information about itself. A few individuals like Julianus I were aware that such a group existed in the continent’s dark underbelly.

But even the elite members of the Igasaki clan had failed to uncover any detailed information. Uncertainty shrouded the Organization’s very existence, which was characteristic of them. Because of that, Ryoma found it hard to predict how the Organization viewed him.

Naturally, I need to be cautious. Though maybe being too cautious could end up backfiring.

As those thoughts drifted through his mind, the receptionist came to a stop in front of a large oak door. She gave it a gentle knock, then turned to Ryoma, bowed slightly, and quietly walked away. Her role had ended with guiding him there. The heavy oak door slowly opened as if it had been waiting for her departure.

Beyond it lay a lavish room that was elegant enough to be mistaken for a suite in a high-class hotel. The floor was covered wall-to-wall with Persian carpets, and an enormous crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. But at that moment, such luxury held no meaning whatsoever to Ryoma.

What caught Ryoma’s attention were the two figures standing at the center of the room. One was a refined woman dressed in a butler’s uniform, while the other was an elderly man clad in a long robe of white silk.

So this is Liu Daijin... He looks surprisingly young.

For a brief moment, Ryoma doubted whether this man was truly Liu Daijin. But Liu showed no sign of uncertainty.

“Welcome, grandson of my dear friend. You must have been quite surprised to receive my sudden letter. To be honest, I thought you might refuse, but I’m glad you made the long journey.” Liu Daijin approached Ryoma with his arms wide open in a welcoming gesture.

One might expect this posture from a grandparent eagerly awaiting the arrival of a beloved grandchild. With such an unexpected display of warmth, Ryoma couldn’t hide his confusion. Countless thoughts flickered through his mind.

He seems to trust me a lot more than I expected.

Ordinarily, a handshake would have sufficed. Judging from Liu Daijin’s demeanor, he wasn’t aiming for a handshake but instead going in for an embrace. That alone conveyed the connection he felt toward Ryoma. Otherwise, someone of his stature—an elder of the Organization—would never greet someone with a hug. It was a gesture that only someone with deep trust in the other person would ever consider making.

A dagger could always be plunged into Liu Daijin’s abdomen when he stepped in for a hug. If that were to happen, Liu Daijin could easily suffer a fatal wound. Truthfully, Ryoma didn’t even need a dagger.

He should’ve heard about An-da surprise attacks from grandfather, Ryoma thought.

In the Mikoshiba mortal arts, there was a technique passed down that closely resembled the one-inch punch made famous by Bruce Lee—a short-range strike capable of delivering tremendous force from mere inches away. It was considered one of the secret techniques of the Mikoshiba style because its power was nothing short of worthy of that title.

At its peak, An-da could deliver a strike from an almost point-blank distance with greater force than even a full karate straight punch. What made it even more fearsome was that, so long as Ryoma had free use of his wrist and hand, he could still unleash the technique. He could do so even if the power had somewhat diminished.

After all, An-da was originally developed for battlefield use. It was meant for situations where you’ve lost your sword or spear and grappled with the enemy in close quarters.

Naturally, the technique was designed to be viable even while rolling on the ground or pinned beneath an enemy. Liu Daijin, who was said to have had a close relationship with Koichiro Mikoshiba, would undoubtedly know about it.

After all, Ryoma had heard that Koichiro and Liu had exchanged martial arts techniques with each other.

Even if he didn’t know about An-da, anyone with common sense would recognize how dangerous it is to close the distance so carelessly. Given the size difference between us, even if this old man’s confident in his skills, he’d at least show a little hesitation...

Ryoma was confident that he could handle the situation, but there was no need to take unnecessary risks. His height had exceeded 190 centimeters. In fact, he had been growing ever since being summoned to this world, at this point being close to two meters tall.

On top of that, his weight was considerable as well. He hadn’t actually stepped on a scale to measure it, so the exact number remained unknown, but it was likely around 120 kilograms. He was literally a giant. If he had been living in Japan, it wouldn’t have been surprising if a professional wrestler had scouted him.

As for Liu Daijin, he was probably around 170 centimeters tall. His height was about the same as Ryoma’s cousin, Asuka Kiryu. He wasn’t quite “short” to the general public, but one wouldn’t describe him as large. Moreover, his weight was within the standard range. He probably weighed around sixty kilograms, which was considered typical for an adult male.

Although he exuded a youthful energy that didn’t show his age, the difference in physique could be compared to that of an adult and a child. Despite such a disparity in size, these two embraced each other.

A child hugging a bear, huh?

Ryoma’s high school classmates had given him the nickname Sleeping Bear, so it wasn’t entirely wrong. From an outsider’s perspective, it might have seemed like a heartwarming scene. The problem, however, was that the difference in their sizes could easily lead to a situation where one could kill the other.

If Ryoma wanted to kill Liu Daijin, there would be no need to use any of the Mikoshiba family’s secret techniques.

I could just pull him in, squeeze with both hands, snap his spine, or use the distance to grab his head, twist it, and sever his cervical vertebrae.

Alternatively, he could grab his arm to pin him down and gouge out vital points like his throat or eyes with his fingers, which wouldn’t be a bad option either. After all, his opponent was in a completely unguarded state. Regardless of whether it would succeed, there were many methods to kill.

And yet, this old man approached me. Did he plan this beforehand? However, Ryoma quickly rejected that thought. That woman in the butler uniform... When this old man came close to me, I briefly felt a disturbance in her presence, meaning this wasn’t something they had coordinated in advance.

At the very least, it seemed that Liu Daijin’s bodyguards didn’t approve of their charge getting too close to Ryoma Mikoshiba. Such behavior showed Liu Daijin’s resolve.

Then, Liu Daijin gently embraced Ryoma Mikoshiba’s large body with no hidden intention behind it. He was genuinely looking forward to his meeting with Ryoma, even though they hadn’t met before. Given the strained relationship between Ryoma and the Organization, the only reason for such a warm welcome seemed to be one thing.

Ryoma had heard from his grandfather about his connection with Liu Daijin... But honestly, he had been surprised. He hadn’t expected their relationship to be so close that he would receive such an enthusiastic welcome.

Regardless, Ryoma was uncertain about how to handle this unexpected situation. He clearly couldn’t just stand there frozen. Being mindful not to squeeze too tightly, Ryoma returned Liu Daijin’s embrace. He did so because he believed it was the polite thing to do. Perhaps because that sentiment got through to him, Ryoma felt a bit more strength in Liu Daijin’s arms.

How much time had passed? Had they embraced for nearly ten seconds? At last, the strength in Liu Daijin’s arms faded.

“I had heard rumors about you before, but I’m truly glad to finally meet you in person,” he said.

Ryoma nodded deeply as Liu Daijin seemed genuinely happy to welcome him.

“Now then, before we begin our talk, let’s first wet our throats. I considered offering a drink to celebrate our meeting, but given what lies ahead, I think tea would be the better choice. Please, you lovely young ladies, do have a seat,” said Liu Daijin, signaling to his servant Ruqaiya, who had been standing nearby.

Following his lead, Ryoma and the Malfist sisters made their way toward the round table at the center of the room. Ruqaiya immediately began preparing the tea.

Liu Daijin and Ryoma sat facing each other while the Malfist sisters took seats slightly to their master’s side.

“Judging by the color, is it Tieguanyin? But the aroma seems a little different, doesn’t it?” asked Ryoma.

A reddish, amber liquid had been poured into the ceramic teacups from the Chinese-style teapot.

Based on the tea’s hue and its sweet, almost nectar-like aroma reminiscent of white peaches, Ryoma guessed that the tea before him must have been a semifermented variety. It could have been one of the Chinese teas classified as qingcha or oolong. He had voiced his suspicion aloud, more out of curiosity than certainty.

That kind of knowledge wasn’t something he had studied formally but rather was a byproduct of his upbringing. Despite his grandfather Koichiro being a bit of a heavy drinker, he had a deep obsession with tea and coffee, almost to the point of being a connoisseur. As a child, Ryoma had been roped into that peculiar indulgence time and time again. Over the years, he had unconsciously absorbed bits and pieces of his grandfather’s refined tastes.

Still, his nose was telling him something. The fragrance wasn’t quite the same as the Tieguanyin tea he had known.

“You noticed, did you?” Liu Daijin asked.

“Well, if you’re asking whether I really noticed, that’s a tough call,” Ryoma responded, rubbing the back of his head with a sheepish grin. “From the color alone, I’d assume it’s Tieguanyin. The scent is similar too. But there’s something softer about the fermentation. And the tea leaves themselves somehow feel unusual. Just a hunch, really.”

Ryoma wasn’t trying to show off. He knew that, compared to a true expert, he was just a hobbyist or a well-fed amateur at best. The only thing he could say with confidence was whether something tasted good or not. Beyond that, his judgments were limited to whether he’d encountered the flavor before.

But that honest humility seemed to resonate with Liu Daijin.

“Well now,” Liu said, his eyes twinkling. “If you picked up on that much, you’ve got a fine palate indeed.” He reached for his cup, smiling with clear satisfaction. “To let you in on the secret... This tea was made using leaves cultivated right here in this world.”

At that, Ryoma’s eyes widened slightly.

“I see... To think you’ve managed to produce something of this quality in a different world entirely.” There was no hint of flattery in Ryoma’s voice, but instead, genuine admiration.

Of course, it didn’t quite match the quality of Tieguanyin or other Chinese teas he had tried back on Rearth. That much was undeniable. Even so, Ryoma had to admit it was excellent when judged simply on taste.

“If I had to nitpick,” Ryoma said thoughtfully, “I’d say it’s just missing a bit of that distinctive Tieguanyin character. But it’s really quite impressive.”

Liu Daijin nodded, clearly pleased with the response, and smirked. “Well, well... Seems you’ve got a deeper understanding of tea than I expected. It’s not so easy to raise the quality to the level I envisioned.”

When Liu Daijin noticed that Ryoma’s teacup had emptied, he gave a small signal to Ruqaiya. Once again, that reddish-amber liquid, which could only be described as elegant, was poured gently into the cup. It was, in every sense, a moment of refined serenity—an interlude devoted entirely to savoring the tea’s flavor.

“Now then, grandson of my dear friend,” Liu began, his tone growing more serious, “let us hear your request. What is it you wish from me? You’ve come all this way to see me, and I fully intend to offer you whatever help lies within my power. So please, speak freely. There’s no need to hold back.”

The speech was undoubtedly a gesture of remarkable generosity.

After all, Liu Daijin was one of the elders of the Organization and a man of considerable influence and power. For such a figure to offer his full support was tantamount to handing over a blank check. Ordinarily, someone would be right to suspect an ulterior motive behind such an offer.

But in this case, holding back would be the greater mistake.

Everything up to this point had made it abundantly clear that Liu Daijin genuinely welcomed him as the grandson of his old friend Koichiro and earnestly offered assistance. Men like Liu, who lived in the world of power and politics, tended to despise unnecessary modesty or hesitation.

So, Ryoma spoke plainly, without embellishment.

“The political upheaval in the Kingdom of Myest... If possible, I’d like you to arrange a meeting with the person who orchestrated it, or at least with someone above them.”

Liu Daijin let out a cheerful laugh, clearly entertained. “Oh? So you’re asking for mediation? And assuming I do mediate, what is it you hope to gain from such a meeting?”

“The halting, or at the very least, a reduction of support to the O’ltormea Empire,” Ryoma answered.

Currently, the most pressing issue for Ryoma Mikoshiba was finding a way to aid the Kingdom of Xarooda, which was struggling beneath the weight of the O’ltormea Empire’s invasion. To accomplish that, he had to overcome two significant hurdles.

One hurdle is dealing with the coup in the Kingdom of Myest. The other is countering the economic manipulation being deployed against the Kingdom of Helnesgoula.

The coup that had taken place in Myest was clearly not a purely domestic affair. It bore all the marks of external interference. Concluding that an operative of the Organization had orchestrated the conflict between the north and south was reasonable.

Ryoma did not want to entertain the idea that the Kingdom of Myest’s proud Three Generals were in league with the Organization. Part of him wanted to dismiss it outright as impossible, to avert his eyes from the mere notion. However, based on everything that had happened so far, Ryoma had become convinced that Alexis Duran was the true mastermind.

Most likely, it was Alexis Duran and those under his command. Neutralizing the root cause is nonnegotiable. The main problem is coming to terms with it.

Of course, the quickest and most certain method to determine the Organization’s control of the conflict between north and south would have been the assassination of Alexis Duran. But Ryoma was reluctant to resort to such extreme means. He didn’t consider assassination to be an underhanded or cowardly tactic. Rather, he simply believed it would be a poor move.

If they succeeded in killing Duran and the Organization retaliated, it could easily spiral into a drawn-out, bloody conflict. In the worst case, the Kingdom of Myest’s southern faction—already allied with Brittantia and Tarja—would end up dragging in the Organization as yet another formidable enemy.

If it came to that, the entire strategy would be for nothing.

After all, I’ve moved so carefully to avoid fighting on two fronts. There is no meaning in adding more enemies now.

The situation wouldn’t be an issue if the Organization were weak. But a group said to possess influence across the entirety of the western continent could not possibly be weak. This made it all the more difficult to take a hardline approach.

All of this, too, is because the true scope of the Organization’s power remains veiled.

There was no greater nuisance than an enemy that hid in the shadows, keeping its true nature out of sight. And that was exactly why Ryoma hoped to resolve things through negotiation with the Organization.

Whether Liu Daijin understood Ryoma’s thoughts, he appeared to enjoy the moment and cheerfully said, “Hm... I understand your intent. But why haven’t you asked me directly? I do hold a respectable position within the Organization, you know? It doesn’t seem like there’s any need to involve a third party, does it?”

“Of course, if it were possible, I would very much like to ask that of you... But I fear such a request might fall outside the ‘reasonable accommodations’ you mentioned earlier, Liu Daijin.”

A dangerous glint flickered in Liu Daijin’s eyes.

Even Ruqaiya, who had been silently observing the exchange, began radiating a palpable killing intent. Ryoma had seemingly stepped on the tiger’s tail.

“Oh...? You say some rather interesting things. Are you suggesting that I, one of the elders of the Organization, am incapable of granting your request? Hm. I wonder, do you have some kind of basis for that conclusion?” Liu Daijin’s tone was calm, but within it there was an unmistakable and unyielding demand for a serious answer.

“A theory... It may not be the strongest. When I consider the movements of the Organization until now, I can’t help but think that it is not a unified group led by a single, absolute authority. Rather, it may be a coalition of several independent factions. And you, Liu Daijin, are merely the head of one such faction. Am I wrong?”

If that hypothesis was correct, Liu Daijin’s influence within the Organization would be relatively limited.

“I see. That’s quite an interesting theory,” declared Liu Daijin, folding his arms, closing his eyes, and quietly turning his gaze to the heavens. “Did Koichiro tell you this?”

The question was logical, seeing as Koichiro had once been part of the Organization alongside Liu Daijin. Even though he had returned to Rearth and distanced himself from it, it wasn’t hard to imagine that his mind contained a wealth of information about the Organization. But Ryoma shook his head once more.

“No, this is purely my own theory.”

“You didn’t ask Koichiro?”

“My grandfather isn’t the type to speak lightly on matters like this. Asking would be pointless. More likely, he’d just get annoyed and clam up.”

Had Koichiro Mikoshiba truly intended to share information about the Organization with Ryoma, he would have done so without needing to be asked.

But he never tried to speak to me about it.

Ryoma had been told that his grandfather had once been a member of the Organization, that he was friends with Liu Daijin, and that he had spent some time under Liu’s care after being summoned back to this world.

However, he had never spoken in concrete terms about the Organization itself.

Did he choose not to? Or was he unable to? Knowing my grandfather’s personality, it was probably the former... “Speech is silver, silence is golden,” wasn’t it?

Once words were spoken, one could not take them back. Sometimes, careless words could invite unexpected disaster. Sharing information was certainly important, but that didn’t mean all information had to be shared.

It seemed Koichiro Mikoshiba had decided that the finer details of the Organization were not something to be disclosed.

Judging from their recent movements, it probably wouldn’t have led to anything good anyway, Ryoma mused. The Organization held significant influence across the entire western continent, but concrete information about them was strangely scarce. This could only mean one thing: They had been deliberately concealing their existence all along.

Ryoma first became aware of the Organization’s existence when he heard of it from King Julianus I on his return to the Kingdom of Rhoadseria following the end of the O’ltormea Empire’s first invasion of the Kingdom of Xarooda. But even Julianus himself hadn’t been fully convinced of their existence.

Julianus I had told Ryoma nothing more than a possibility that some group might be working behind the scenes to stoke the flames of conflict across the western continent. Still, there was no denying that this suggestion had answered the swirling doubts that had taken root within Ryoma’s mind.

It wasn’t like I was convinced from the very beginning either. Ryoma wasn’t so naive as to seriously believe that a secret evil organization like the kind you’d see in Saturday morning superhero shows might exist in the real world. It’s not like I’m into conspiracy theories or anything.

Such TV shows had their charm as a fictional premise. But it was only compelling because it was confined to the realm of fiction. If a group truly existed—one actively working to stir up conflict—no other explanation made more sense for why the wars on the western continent never seemed to end. That was why Ryoma began seeking confirmation through evidence that this answer might be true.

Thanks to individuals skilled in intelligence gathering, like the Igasaki clan and Simone Christof, Ryoma had gradually grasped a vague certainty regarding the Organization’s existence and its underlying motives.

“A hypothesis, is it...?” Liu Daijin muttered, then once again fell silent. “And yet, your tone is rather confident for someone speaking in hypotheticals.”

“It’s not quite confidence,” Ryoma remarked. “But after thinking through everything, I can’t help but feel that’s what it must be.”

“Then tell me. What do you believe our Organization exists for? What do you think our purpose is?”

Ryoma slowly said, “Well... If I had to guess, I believe the group known as the Organization operates based on two major principles.”

“And those are?”

“Primarily, survival and progress.”

The survival of those summoned from Rearth and the advancement of technology in this still-undeveloped world was important. One only had to look at things like the guild network system to see signs of that influence.

But that can’t be all.

Ryoma paused briefly, lips tightening, before continuing with a calm but deliberate tone.

“However... Beyond that, I get the sense that there’s an entirely different will at work. Something darker, like revenge or hatred.”

It was a contradictory answer. If survival and progress represented a constructive, positive intent toward this world, then revenge and hatred stood as its complete opposite—a destructive, negative force. Normally, it would be unthinkable for such opposing intentions to coexist within a single organization.

But if the group is actually a coalition of separate, independently acting factions, each with their own agenda...then that contradiction begins to make sense.

In other words, the Organization’s true nature might be something closer to a secret society or a federation of such groups operating in the shadows. Of course, it was still just a theory. But to Ryoma, it was one he felt increasingly certain of. When Liu Daijin heard Ryoma’s answer, his expression stiffened. Undoubtedly, it was the clearest proof that Ryoma’s words had struck the mark.

The very next moment, Liu Daijin let out a loud, hearty laugh.

“I see. Yes, a most precise observation indeed,” he said, reaching for the teacup placed before him. Perhaps it was an attempt to steady himself—if only a little. Then, Liu Daijin turned his gaze calmly toward Ryoma. “One last thing... Let me ask you this. Depending on your answer, I’ll decide whether to grant your request. Is that acceptable?”

The light in his eyes turned sharp, cold, and piercing. Within those eyes, Ryoma saw a will that would accept no deception. It was as if Liu were attempting to peer into the very depths of his soul. Of course, Ryoma understood exactly what the question was. The real issue was whether the answer he gave would be the one Liu Daijin wanted to hear. In a way, it was a kind of test or a trial by fire.

With the true structure of the Organization still obscured in shadow, it was the sort of question one would ideally avoid. But even as Ryoma hesitated, Liu showed no sign of relenting.

“That said,” Liu continued, “I understand the conditions are somewhat unfair. It may seem unjust to ask this of the beloved grandson of my dear friend. So, if you object, we can end it here. But if possible, I’d truly like to hear what lies in your heart—your honest thoughts. What do you say?”

At first glance, it might have sounded like he was showing consideration for Koichiro Mikoshiba. On the contrary, buried in Liu’s words was an expectation: If you’re his grandson, answering this should be well within your ability.

Still, I suppose I have no choice but to speak honestly.

It would’ve been easy to lie and give a polished answer, something vague and diplomatic. Based on Liu’s earlier reaction, Ryoma was fairly sure his hypothesis had been correct. He could have just repeated the phrase “survival and progress” and likely passed the test. But doing so would be meaningless.

If he sees through a lie, I’ll lose his trust. And even if he doesn’t, I’ll lose something far worse. My beliefs, my pride.

For Ryoma Mikoshiba, that would be the most painful outcome of all. Knowing that, there was only one thing he could say. Ryoma gave a deep nod in Liu Daijin’s direction. When Liu saw this, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Regardless of the outcome, one thing had become clear: The young man his old friend had raised and tempered was no opportunistic coward, willing to twist his words just to please. Because of that, Liu spoke once more.

“What is your purpose? What is it you seek?”

Ryoma let out a long breath. He was sure that all would be lost if he couldn’t answer this question in the way Liu sought. But if he were the type to waver here, he would never have agreed to this meeting in the first place. And so, Ryoma laid bare his heart.

“Coexistence... That is what I wish for.” The moment those words left his lips, a heavy tension filled the room.

Liu’s expression hardened, and a wave of hostility surged from Ruqaiya Redouane’s body. The only ones who remained composed were the Malfist sisters, sitting quietly beside Ryoma. Liu said nothing at first, only tilting his head back to gaze toward the ceiling.

He then slowly said, “I see... Coexistence, is it?”

“Yes. Coexistence.”

Seizon and kyozon represented survival and coexistence, respectively. In Japanese, they differed by only a single character. Indeed, the meanings they conveyed were quite similar. But for Ryoma and Liu, that single character spelled a world of difference. And Liu clearly understood that.

“Do you believe it’s possible?”

“To be honest, I don’t know. It won’t be easy; that much I’m sure of. But if we can’t make it happen, I don’t believe there’s any future left for us. That’s the shape of the future I want to reach.”

Hearing those words, Liu let out a deep breath. With deliberate calm, he gave a slow nod.

“Very well... I shall grant your request.”

Upon hearing those words, Ryoma swiftly rose to his feet. The Malfist sisters, who had been silently observing, noticed this reaction and followed suit. The three of them then bowed deeply in unison.

At the sight of this, Liu Daijin let out a relaxed, hearty laugh.

“There’s no need to be so formal. After all, all I can do is introduce you to the superior of the man who painted this piece for the empire. In terms of effort, it’s hardly anything substantial. Though, I must admit that there are some issues involved...” Liu Daijin trailed off, his tone becoming more ambiguous.

As if preparing himself, he continued.

“The name of the man’s superior is Akimitsu Kuze. He is one of the elders who leads the faction known as the radicals within the Organization, and in the past, he was a sworn friend of your grandfather.”

Upon hearing this, Ryoma’s face betrayed a moment of shock. However, it wasn’t because he had learned that Akimitsu Kuze was a friend of Koichiro. He was surprised because the name Liu Daijin had just mentioned was one that Ryoma Mikoshiba could never forget.

What is this? Why am I hearing that name here?

Questions swirled in Ryoma’s mind like a storm. But sadly, no one in the room could answer those questions.

Epilogue

A warm light slipped through the gap in the curtains hanging over the window, illuminating the dimly lit room. Several hours had passed since the sun had risen over the eastern horizon. Outside the window, the sky stretched endlessly in a deep, unblemished blue. It was, in every sense, a perfect, cloudless day, or what one might call a classic “Japanese clear sky.”

It was likely just past ten in the morning. Most people had finished their breakfast, and the day’s work was well underway. But the room’s occupant stayed in bed, unmoving. He wasn’t asleep. His consciousness had returned many hours ago. Years of routine had conditioned his body to operate on no more than five hours of sleep. He simply lacked the will to rise from the bed.

I should really get up...

The thought flickered through the man’s mind and had already done so countless times already that morning. But regardless of how many times he urged himself, his body refused to move. Everyone had those kinds of days in life when one didn’t have the motivation or when their body felt just a little off, though not quite enough to call it illness. Still, that didn’t mean one could lie in bed forever. Reality didn’t allow for that kind of indulgence. This was particularly true in this world, where most people would consider staying in bed on a sunny day sheer foolishness.

Whether in the countryside or in the cities, that truth didn’t change. For farmers, a sunny day was a precious chance to work their fields. And for merchants in the city, it was prime time to earn their daily bread. Most merchants in this world were either street vendors or traveling salesmen. Even for those fortunate enough to own a storefront, closing shop just because it was raining wasn’t exactly an option.

That luxury didn’t extend to the street vendors who spread their goods by the roadside. Even if they forced themselves to open shop in the rain, all that would do is ruin their wares, leaving them with nothing to sell. Traveling merchants could also benefit from transporting their goods from one location to another. Even those with a proper storefront couldn’t deny that sunny days brought the best business. In this vast earthbound realm, most people avoided going out in the rain unless it was absolutely necessary. Naturally, bad weather meant a significant drop in customer traffic. On a day like today, with clear skies and perfect weather, oversleeping meant risking the loss of a precious chance to earn a living to secure one’s very survival. In this world, where there was no such thing as public assistance or a social safety net, not working was practically synonymous with death.

Of course, there were exceptions.

If someone were bedridden due to illness or injury, it couldn’t be helped. For those born into wealth or whose families were so affluent they didn’t need to scramble daily for their next meal, choosing not to work might be a luxury they could afford. But that, too, was rare. In this world, noble ideals like social welfare or the right to life for all were nothing more than fantasies. People felt sympathy toward the sick or the wounded. Life in this world might be harsh, but the people who lived here weren’t all heartless monsters. Still, that didn’t mean others would understand or accept the burden of supporting someone who couldn’t pull their weight. Whether anyone would step in to work extra for them remained unanswered.

The reality was that this world still held noble families with vast tracts of land, and merchant dynasties whose wealth could sustain generations without ever running dry. Yet even in those households, one couldn’t assume they’d tolerate idle mouths forever. Blood ties didn’t always guarantee unconditional acceptance in a world this unforgiving. And so the question became: Did the man lying in this room fall into one of those rare exceptions?

In some respects, the man in this room could indeed be considered one of those rare exceptions. It had been nearly seven days since he’d returned from the battlefield, and not a single person had questioned him. Everyone had simply remained silent, offering nothing but quiet support and consideration.

Was that kindness? Sympathy? Or perhaps pity?

Whatever it was, such well-meaning concern didn’t necessarily bring about positive results. Those acts of kindness and compassion deeply pierced the soul of this man in his current state. This was, in every sense, a living hell.

How pathetic... For me, once called the Emperor’s Shield, to have fallen to such a state... Rolfe Estherkent felt the bitter thought pass through his chest.

Rolfe was the supreme commander of the Imperial Guard serving Emperor Lionel Eisenheit, the man who sought to rule the entire continent from his dominion in the central region of the western continent. He was a battle-hardened warrior and one of the emperor’s most trusted lieutenants. His name was familiar to and even revered by the people of the O’ltormea Empire—once a minor kingdom at the heart of the continent. Rolfe had served Lionel Eisenheit since the days when their empire was no more than a modest power. He had survived countless battles by the emperor’s side. Moreover, he was so devoted that he had once sacrificed an eye to shield his sovereign from a flying arrow.

In any telling of Oltormea’s rise from humble beginnings to its current status as a continental superpower, Rolfe’s name was impossible to ignore. His exploits had become the stuff of plays and bardic tales; his legend was woven into the heroic myths passed down through generations.

The name Rolfe Estherkent and his title, the Emperor’s Shield, echoed not only across the empire but throughout the western continent. He was, without question, one of the foremost generals and public figures of the O’ltormea military. With that honor came immense power and equally immense responsibility.

As the commander of the Imperial Guard, Rolfe should have been stationed at the emperor’s side. Still, he had taken part in the second Xarooda expedition because it was a direct imperial order. It was an assignment to serve as an aide to the emperor’s beloved daughter, Princess Shardina Eisenheit.

This wasn’t merely a testament to Rolfe Estherkent’s exceptional capabilities but also to the profound trust the emperor placed in him. A man of such stature had no business indulging in idleness. Such was the case with the failed surprise assault on Peripheria and the return of the ailing King Julianus I to the throne. The result was a purge of the Kingdom of Xarooda’s nobility, who had been colluding with the O’ltormea Empire.

At present, the front lines at the Ushas Basin remained still. But it was only a matter of time before the Xaroodian forces regrouped and launched a counteroffensive to reclaim their lands. The winds of war were shifting swiftly.

Under the leadership of Princess Shardina Eisenheit, the high command of the Xaroodian invasion army was working tirelessly to reorganize and reinforce their positions. No matter how disgraceful his recent defeat might be, a man of Rolfe’s standing was expected to attend war councils, aid in rethinking their strategies, and shoulder the burden of command once more. That was, after all, the duty of a general. Perhaps this was the only proper way a man of integrity could atone for failure.

But Rolfe no longer had the will to do even that.

I alone... I alone survived...

That thought chained his heart in place, like the fear and regret of someone who had made a catastrophic mistake at work that brought ruin to their entire company. In that sense, perhaps it was only natural that Rolfe would be consumed by such dark emotions.

After all, the detachment of ten thousand troops he had led in the assault on Peripheria had been utterly annihilated by Signus Galveria and the forces under his command. What commander could walk away from losing so many under his watch and feel nothing? The burden of carrying the guilt of being the only one left alive ate away at Rolfe’s soul.

His feelings were akin to what modern society would call survivor’s guilt—the psychological burden borne by those who miraculously survive war or disaster. What made Rolfe Estherkent’s situation even more tragic, however, was the absence of anyone who could truly understand his circumstances. There was no one with whom he could share his thoughts and no companion who had endured the same. If there had been someone who’d experienced a similar fate, perhaps he could’ve laid bare his heart without reservation. But that person simply didn’t exist.

In this world, there were no psychologists or counselors to help shoulder the weight of his pain. It was a misfortune few could fathom. Ultimately, Rolfe had no choice but to confront it all alone by relying solely on his own will and strength.

His heart was on the verge of being crushed by humiliation, guilt, and the lingering fear of Signus Galveria. Even so, the fact that he hadn’t chosen the easier path of taking his life was proof enough that he was desperately striving to endure. Just then, the sound of wagon wheels creaking reached his ears, and a light knock came at the door to his room.

“Sir Rolfe, are you awake? I’ve brought your breakfast.”

“Yes, I’m awake. You can leave the tray by the door. I’ll eat it later,” Rolfe said in a voice that differed from his usual tone.

There was a pause, followed by the soft voice of the maid, tinged with hesitation and quiet resignation. On Earth, nobles who could afford to keep servants virtually never dined alone. A maid or attendant was always expected to remain nearby. Such customs were no different even for someone like Rolfe, a man of the sword.

Rolfe Estherkent held the rank of a high noble. Even on a battlefield, he would normally have a page or aide by his side to serve him, but he was no infant. He was perfectly capable of feeding himself if he wished.

Even the arm shattered by Signus Galveria’s iron staff had already healed, thanks to potent elixirs. He was no longer in need of care. So, if he said he would manage on his own, there was nothing more to do than accept his wishes and step away.

To protest too strongly by rashly challenging his wishes could very well place her in danger. Such was the survival instinct of the powerless on Earth; there was no need to invite unnecessary risk. And yet, it seemed this maid had chosen not to take the easier path.

“Are you sure? You truly don’t want me to stay by your side today either?”

Her voice was barely more than a whisper and so faint it might not have made it past the door. Within that fragile tone was a quiet, unshakable resolve. Was it loyalty to her duties? Or perhaps something else entirely? She likely didn’t understand the true source of the feelings welling up inside her. But whatever it was, there was no deceit or calculation behind it. Her concern for Rolfe Estherkent came from a place of pure sincerity. She deeply, genuinely cared for him. But even those heartfelt words failed to stir anything within him.

No, that wasn’t entirely true. He heard the concern in her voice and felt it. But even that kindness, that quiet devotion, was nothing but a heavy burden.

Please, stop... Just leave me be...

Rolfe felt the care and gentleness extended by others was a punishment. Perhaps his perception of himself as a sinner rendered him unworthy of compassion. And so, he did the only thing he could: He pushed that outstretched hand away.

“Yes. You may go,” Rolfe firmly rejected.

His demeanor signaled that Rolfe held on to reason, still clinging to restraint. At the very least, he had not raised his voice or lashed out in anger or violence. Perhaps that was the only way he could offer something in return to the maid who worried for him, no matter how small.

And so, the maid had no means left to resist Rolfe’s words.

“As you wish. Then, please excuse me.” Her presence disappeared from beyond the door.

How much time passed after that? Certainly, it had not been more than two or three minutes. Then, in the silence, Rolfe’s stomach let out a loud, ungraceful growl.

Honestly... Pathetic...

Even in isolation, it seemed hunger didn’t grant him any mercy. With sluggish movements, he sat up from his bed, and a deep, weary sigh escaped his lips that might have been born out of shame at his own helplessness.

The Ushas Basin was one of the most fertile granaries of the Kingdom of Xarooda.

When harvest season arrived, golden wheat would blanket the earth like sunlight made solid. It was the very lifeblood of the kingdom, protecting its people from hunger. On the western edge of that peaceful, abundant land stood a structure wholly unsuited to such pastoral beauty called Fort Seron.

Since the beginning of the second invasion of Xarooda, construction of the fortress had rapidly progressed under the direct orders of Shardina Eisenheit, the supreme commander of the invasion force. The haste wasn’t without reason.

During the first invasion of Xarooda, Fort Notis’s rear supply base had been reduced to ashes by a surprise assault led by Ryoma Mikoshiba. The situation forced the empire into an unwanted armistice with Xarooda. This time, they would not repeat that mistake. Fort Seron stood like a den of beasts, gnawing away at the kingdom’s western lands.

To the people of Xarooda, the O’ltormea Empire’s army was considered nothing less than monstrous invaders or vermin threatening their homeland. In truth, that metaphor wasn’t far from reality. But even the leader of such beasts bore a weary expression. The beautiful face of that woman was etched with exhaustion and deep-seated frustration. Her stress stemmed from a battlefield where the tides shifted by the hour and heartbeat.

“So, today was a failure as well,” stated Shardina.

A deep sigh escaped from Shardina’s lips as she finished listening to the report delivered by her close aide, Celia Valkland. Her face was painted with quiet sorrow. Anyone who heard the same report would likely wear the same expression. Celia had brought news that would only drive O’ltormea’s invasion forces further into despair.

“Yes. As suspected, he remains withdrawn in his quarters. From what the maids report, he is at least still taking his meals, so I don’t believe his life is in immediate danger, but...”

“We hardly have the luxury to let a knight renowned as the Emperor’s Shield sit idle forever.”

Celia responded with a small nod to her mistress’s quiet lament. The situation Shardina and her forces faced was dire enough that they’d welcome help from a stray cat. The complete eradication of members of Xarooda’s noble class who had colluded with the O’ltormea Empire had been wholly unexpected.

To think that King Julianus I, who was mocked as dull and ineffectual, would wield such a brutal blade. Did something change while he lingered on his sickbed? Shardina mused.

People who had been on death’s door often emerged utterly transformed, changing their personalities, worldviews, and everything else. A man once known for his temper may become calm and introspective; a frugal soul might suddenly begin squandering fortunes in the red-light districts. In other words, they were reborn.

Whether such a transformation had truly occurred in Julianus I was something Shardina couldn’t say for certain. Reports from spies embedded in the royal capital of Peripheria indicated that even after the purge, no significant unrest had broken out among the populace.

This likely means this wasn’t a rash act of vengeance but a calculated judgment, she thought, knowing there had been earlier opportunities to punish those traitorous nobles. After the failure of the first invasion of Xarooda or when Joshua Belares seized control of the military—either moment would have sufficed to purge the turncoats wagging their tails at our empire.

Had Shardina herself been the ruler of Xarooda, she would’ve ordered their execution without hesitation during those critical moments.

Not that I’m in any position to talk, seeing that I orchestrated the sabotage. But really, traitors are nothing but dead weight.

Any concerned ruler who wasn’t a fool would have reached the same conclusion. Whatever the reason for Julianus’s sudden change of heart, one thing was certain: Full conquest of Xarooda had slipped further out of the empire’s reach. In such a precarious situation, the continued absence of Rolfe Estherkent from the front lines was a significant blow. Both tactically and strategically, his presence was irreplaceable.

“Yes, we hope he’ll return to the battlefield as soon as possible. And I believe he will, eventually. It’s just... Given the current state of things, there’s no way to say exactly when that might be,” Celia said.

Shardina gave a quiet nod. “There’s no forcing this one, I suppose. We’ll just have to wait until his heart finds its footing again. But somehow, I doubt that’ll happen anytime soon.”

Celia dipped her head in a deeper, more solemn gesture. And then, she said what she had long kept buried in her heart.

“Of course. It was a devastating defeat. On top of that, the treasured shield gifted by His Majesty was shattered before his eyes, leaving him gravely wounded. Even if the wounds have physically healed thanks to elixirs, the psychological trauma must be substantial. I understand why Lord Rolfe has withdrawn himself. I do. But even so...”

As her voice trailed off, an unmistakable tinge of disappointment lingered and perhaps even carried reproach directed at Rolfe Estherkent. If Rolfe were bedridden from his injuries, Celia wouldn’t have harbored such feelings. Despite their age difference, Rolfe had long stood beside Celia as a comrade in arms, faithfully serving Shardina. But his wounds had already healed. From Celia’s perspective, his continued absence felt dangerously close to negligence.

Her feelings were akin to how modern society often misunderstood those suffering from depression. Even so, Celia never fully voiced her misgivings. That restraint was likely her last remaining gesture of loyalty to the man she once fought beside. And yet, the look on her face made one thing clear: She didn’t truly understand what Rolfe was going through. If anything, she saw his silence and isolation as an act of abandonment.

But Shardina said nothing. She simply shook her head, slowly, in quiet denial.

Even Celia Valkland, celebrated throughout the empire as the Queen of Blizzards for her icy poise and cutting logic, cannot always discern the tangled threads of a person’s heart, Shardina thought. Perhaps it was precisely because Celia was so calm and detached that Rolfe’s state of mind was so difficult for her to comprehend. Well, it’s not entirely surprising. Celia has never led soldiers on the front lines, so it might be hard for her to understand the complexities of the situation.

Everything came down to the difference in their roles: Rolfe fought directly on the front lines and commanded troops, and Celia operated primarily in the safety of the rear, devising strategies. It was similar to the difference between a player and a coach in sports. The coach’s job was to evaluate players, devise strategies, and decide who played and when. But the players were actually out there, facing the opposing team. The coach remained in the background, focused on guiding from the sidelines.

Naturally, their perspectives and feelings would also differ due to their positions. Still, Shardina didn’t wish to criticize Celia for being someone who couldn’t grasp emotions as easily. After all, no one was perfect. The true issue lay in recognizing one’s own flaws and addressing them appropriately.

But Celia seems to understand the situation well enough herself.

At the very least, Celia was fully aware of her own dissatisfaction with the current situation. She certainly didn’t feel good about the frustrations she harbored toward Rolfe. There was even a sense of shame that came with it, which she had likely felt when her words faltered earlier. Celia couldn’t have said this in front of a third party. If anyone else were present, some reprimand might have been necessary. Since Shardina and Celia were the only ones present, they could keep it private for now. And so, Shardina didn’t chastise Celia, allowing the conversation to continue without condemnation.

“Yes, the damage caused is undeniable. It’s impossible to simply return to the way things were. I understand that Rolfe likely needs time to sort through his emotions. Also, the fact that his shield was destroyed... That is no small matter, is it?”

For Rolfe, his shield was more than just a piece of armor. It symbolized his life and his honor as a warrior, a gift from the emperor himself. To have it shattered was, in essence, the destruction of Rolfe Estherkent’s very identity as a soldier. And that fact had left a deep wound on the prestige of the O’ltormea Empire.

“That shield was a custom-made piece, forged by the finest blacksmiths in the empire. I heard that your grandfather imbued it with both weight reduction and hardening spells. To think that a monster exists who could destroy it so thoroughly... Honestly, I never imagined it.”

“It’s literally the Emperor’s Shield that was shattered. Truly, it’s the ultimate irony,” Celia responded.

“Of course, I understand that there’s no such thing as something that can never be destroyed...”

At that, Celia bit her lip. A shield, after all, was just a tool. As a tool used in battle, it would inevitably be damaged or destroyed. However, the design of most weapons and armor prioritized durability.

The fact that Celia’s grandfather, Gaius Valkland, had imbued the shield with both weight reduction and hardening spells before Emperor Lionel granted it to Rolfe indicated the shield’s purpose: to withstand the harshest conditions.

Yet, Signus Galveria had shattered that shield beyond recognition. For Rolfe as a warrior, that was a blow as devastating as the defeat itself.

“If it weren’t for Lord Sudou’s intervention, Rolfe would likely...” Celia trailed off, a look of fear crossing her face.

Shardina nodded grimly, her expression twisted as if she had just bitten into something sour. She said, “Yes, Rolfe would have been killed in battle.”

That was a very real possibility. If it hadn’t been for the quick thinking of Akitake Sudou, who had rushed to rescue Rolfe, that future would almost certainly have become a reality.

For both Shardina and Celia, that was the worst scenario they could imagine.

His reckless actions were extreme, but that’s why I can’t fault Sudou for it...

After Sudou saved Rolfe, the middle-aged man had disappeared with nothing but a brief statement: “I have urgent business and will be away for a while.”

Shardina certainly had her thoughts on the man’s disappearance, but she could only move forward. Despite his reckless behavior, Shardina simply couldn’t bring herself to discard Sudou. Just as he had successfully rescued Rolfe Estherkent, Akitake Sudou had earned enough value to be allowed such exceptions.

“Yes, it’s certainly a blow that the assault on the capital by the detachment was exposed, resulting in the annihilation of ten thousand soldiers. The effect on the morale of the entire army is also undeniable. However, he’s just a single soldier. We can receive reinforcements from the homeland if we request them. It’s not insignificant, but even considering General Tret’s death, it won’t have an impact great enough to alter the outcome. At least, we can recover from this. But...”

“If Rolfe had died in battle, the consequences would have been incalculably severe.”

“Yes... We would likely have had to consider withdrawing our forces.”

The Xaroodian invasion army was rumored to number over two hundred thousand soldiers. Including the rear supply troops and their escorts, the total could reach as many as three hundred thousand.

Considering the losses of the detachment Rolfe led and the vanguard forces led by James Tret, who had been a decoy on the front lines, the casualties totaled just over twenty thousand. In the grand scheme of things, those losses weren’t as significant in terms of the whole Xaroodian invasion army.

Although it may sound harsh, soldiers can be replenished from the rear. Between us, the loss of Tret, who led the vanguard, is within acceptable limits.

Shardina did not feel happy that James Tret had died, but losing him wasn’t a huge blow either. That was her honest assessment of him. Of course, James Tret was not incompetent or someone with questionable loyalty. If anything, one could consider him a reliable frontline commander. He had experience from countless battlefields, and his subordinates held him in high regard. In the first place, if Shardina had had doubts about Tret’s abilities, she never would have assigned him as a frontline commander. There was no doubt that his capabilities were above average.

However, it was regrettable to say that Tret was not an irreplaceable asset to the empire.

Our country has over a hundred generals and knight commanders capable of leading armies. Tret was, at best, a mid-tier commander. There are plenty of others who could replace him... He was not bad, but he was also not indispensable.

If one compared the capabilities of Rolfe and James to pieces in a game of shogi, Rolfe would be akin to a rook or bishop. As for Tret, he could be barely considered a silver, and if one were strict, he would only be considered a knight or a lance. He was not someone to lose unnecessarily, but he was a piece that could be tactically sacrificed without much regret.

That was the way things were. Such an attitude might seem like an unacceptable way of thinking for a person. One might even call it the mindset of a devil wearing the skin of a human, someone who didn’t understand the value of life. But as a military commander, it was a very correct way of thinking.

Furthermore, the Empire’s overall military forces are several times greater than the expeditionary force deployed to Xarooda... Worst case, they could be mobilized as reinforcements.

This situation was about professional soldiers who specialized in war. If commoner conscriptions were included, the numbers would swell even further. That would constitute a military force capable of claiming hegemony over the western continent.

However, not all of the over a million soldiers of the O’ltormea Empire can be deployed to invade Xarooda.

If all the forces of the O’ltormea Empire had been committed, the conquest of the Kingdom of Xarooda would have been easily achievable. But in reality, it was not that simple.

The O’ltormea Empire, with its central territory on the continent, was surrounded by enemy nations on all sides. To the north, Helnesgoula always looked for an opportunity to advance south, led by the cunning Vixen of the North, Grindiana Helnescharles. To the west, the religious state of the Holy Qwiltantia Empire, allied with the Church of Meneos, stood firmly in place.

Neither of those two countries would have simply stood by if the O’ltormea Empire had diverted all its defensive forces to the eastern front.

Additionally, troublesome smaller kingdoms pose a significant challenge to the south of the empire.

In terms of territory, the O’ltormea Empire, which controlled the entire central region of the continent, was overwhelmingly dominant. The southern kingdoms were a collective term for thirteen small nations divided into separate entities, which could only compete with the O’ltormea Empire when they united. Thus, when comparing one of the southern kingdoms to the O’ltormea Empire, even in terms of territory alone, there was a difference of more than ten times.

From an economic standpoint, the difference was even greater.

Moreover, the thirteen nations known as the southern kingdoms were constantly embroiled in warfare, each trying to expand its territory. So, they had no time to direct their attention to the O’ltormea Empire.

However, that did not mean it would have been easy to withdraw troops from the southern borders. The soldiers of the southern kingdoms were seasoned, strong, and well-known for their prowess.

Because most of the southern kingdoms hold the Church of Meneos as their state religion, it is said that they have built quite deep relations with the Holy Qwiltantia Empire.

Of course, these countries were not necessarily allies or vassals of the Holy Qwiltantia Empire. Even if a war had broken out, it was not guaranteed that they would have formed a union and marched toward the O’ltormea Empire’s territory.

However, they were undoubtedly friendly nations.

Their cooperation extends beyond the battlefield. The Holy Qwiltantia Empire, in particular, does not seem to desire continental domination on its own.

Even if Qwiltantia had not sent armies to participate in direct combat, providing aid in the form of weapons and food would have been enough. One could have seen this as a strategy similar to “offshore balancing” in modern geopolitical thinking. Regardless of their strategic thinking, it remained unchanged that these nations were an obstacle to the O’ltormea Empire’s ambition for continental domination. The southern kingdoms did not wish to lose their autonomy, so they would not have accepted the O’ltormea Empire’s hegemony.

To the north, there was Helnesgoula; to the west, Qwiltantia; and to the south, the southern kingdoms... Any of these countries would have bared their fangs and shown no mercy if the empire had shown even the slightest opening. That was not a pleasant reality. However, this was a fact shared not only by Shardina but also by the leadership of the O’ltormea Empire. For that reason, it was necessary to leave a certain amount of military force behind for national defense.

Around two hundred thousand are in the northwest and south. They need at least another hundred thousand stationed centrally for immediate response.

Without at least that many soldiers, constructing a temporary defensive line would have been difficult if an unexpected situation arose.

It is indeed ironic that the O’ltormea Empire, the ruler of the central region of the western continent and a thriving economic power due to its strategic transportation networks, is burdened by the very same transportation advantage in terms of strategy.

Although the O’ltormea Empire could not dedicate all its military forces to the invasion of Xarooda, it was still a formidable nation. Even if tens of thousands of soldiers had died in battle, that loss wouldn’t have been a fatal blow, and a replacement for a commander like James Tret could easily have been found. From that perspective, the recent defeat was not a blow that could threaten the survival of the O’ltormea Empire.

However, the death of a knight hailed as the Emperor’s Shield could never have been accepted. The death of someone like Rolfe, a warrior who represented the O’ltormea Empire, would have had a significant international impact.

The empire’s prestige would certainly have been damaged.

As a result, surrounding countries would have begun to underestimate the military power of the O’ltormea Empire, which could have led to open hostilities.

“If Rolfe had died in battle, I wonder how His Majesty would have judged the situation...” Celia said.

If someone as trusted by the emperor as Rolfe Estherkent had been killed, the damage wouldn’t have been limited to just putting the invasion of Xarooda in a difficult position. After all, he had been a loyal subject who had put his life on the line to protect the emperor. How Lionel Eisenheit would have felt about his death was uncertain.

“Yes... Of course, His Majesty is a wise man, and I don’t believe he would have made any irrational decisions, but... Even if His Majesty didn’t say anything, the people around him wouldn’t have kept quiet. They would have insisted that the crown prince should be held responsible.”

Shardina nodded deeply and said, “Yeah, that would likely have happened... It’s a situation I don’t want to think about, but...”

Although Shardina was the emperor’s beloved daughter, toward whom he felt deep trust and affection, there were many forces within the O’ltormea Empire plotting to bring about her downfall.

Someone would surely have blamed the first princess for the failure.

The crown prince’s faction wouldn’t have stayed silent.

The face of her half brother, who defended the western border, appeared in her mind. Shardina then let out a deep sigh.

“If we had failed, there was even the possibility that the second invasion of Xarooda would have been completely halted... Considering that, the damage from this defeat could have been much worse, so... It’s still within the range of recoverable losses,” said Shardina, looking at the sky. A rusty, iron taste spread in her mouth. Regret must have crossed her heart.

“Honestly, targeting the capital was a bad move. I had ordered a diversion, but Robert Bertrand killed James Tret. The important detachment led by Rolfe was forced to retreat by Signus Galveria. I had heard the rumors about the Twin Blades, but I didn’t expect them to be this capable.”

That was a fact Shardina, the daughter of Emperor Lionel Eisenheit and the leader of the Succubus Knights, did not want to admit.

“Ryoma Mikoshiba was distracted by the situation in the Kingdom of Myest, which was the perfect opportunity...”

“Right... If that man had come to Xarooda, the situation would have worsened even more. That’s why I tried to resolve it early,” Celia stated.

Of course, launching an assault on Peripheria through the western mountain pass was a gamble. Celia and Shardina, who had devised the plan, fully understood that. Considering the situation, it wasn’t an impossible choice.

Robert Bertrand had brought the front line in the Ushas Basin to a standstill. Continuing to advance using the conventional method and pushing through with numerical superiority was the standard approach, but that would have taken too long.

A large-scale invasion using military strength was the correct and conventional strategy. Unless something unexpected happened, overwhelming the enemy with sheer numbers would have been possible. However, maintaining such a large force would have required a solid logistical system.

Based on the previous failure, the food and supply storage facilities were dispersed to the rear this time, so there shouldn’t have been any major problems.

But that had caused the logistics network to become complicated. Maintaining supply lines was never an easy task, even for a powerful nation like the O’ltormea Empire. It wouldn’t have been a problem in the short term, but it would have been difficult for long-term operations. Establishing logistical infrastructure should not have been rushed, but aiming for a quick resolution wasn’t necessarily wrong if there was an opportunity.

Another reason we’re in this situation is our inability to predict the movements of Ryoma Mikoshiba, who had withdrawn his forces from the Kingdom of Myest, Shardina thought. However, it might have been a kind of subconscious unease. After all, that man has made me suffer countless times.

From the assassination of Court Thaumaturgist Gaius Valkland to the hindrance of the O’ltormea Empire’s national strategy, Ryoma Mikoshiba’s thoroughness was almost refreshing. His obsessive persistence was so extreme that it bordered on frightening.

Of course, Ryoma Mikoshiba didn’t harbor such a deep resentment against the O’ltormea Empire. Because the O’ltormea Empire had been harassing him, he had been swatting away the sparks that came his way. But the empire came away with a completely different interpretation.

After all, the O’ltormea Empire had summoned Ryoma Mikoshiba to this hellish land. In other words, they knew that he resented them. Because of that awareness, they were excessively cautious and fearful of him, to the point of developing a sense of misguided paranoia toward him. Sadly, no one could clear up that misunderstanding.

“Well, there’s no use dwelling on the past. The real problem is what we do from here,” Shardina declared.

“Since we cannot expect Rolfe’s early return, the issue now is who will take command on the front lines.”

“Well, there are plenty of candidates if we just want to maintain the front line...”

“If the Kingdom of Xarooda focuses on defense, there shouldn’t be too many problems. But...”

“The issue is when the enemy goes on the offensive.”

At Shardina’s words, Celia nodded slightly. A heavy atmosphere filled the room.

“Robert Bertrand, Signus Galveria... With those monsters and Xarooda’s Joshua Belares leading their best troops, they would certainly unleash a powerful strike.”

“A total war...?” asked Celia.

“Right... After all, King Julianus I has recovered, and the traitors who had been aiding us were wiped out. The morale of Xarooda’s forces is undoubtedly higher than ever. We can assume that they’ll start trying to take back the territories we’ve occupied.”

The problem was that, when that happened, neither Shardina nor Celia would be capable of handling such monsters alone.

“It would be great if we could win with sheer numbers, but that will likely be difficult.”

In this world of war, the key to victory was the skill of the generals and the individual strength of the warriors. No matter how many soldiers they had, overwhelming individual power, such as that of monsters, would easily sweep them away.

“The only certain method is to set traps and eliminate them... Honestly, at this point, it would take too long to prepare.”

The preparations to maneuver someone like Robert or Signus into a fatal trap would take at least a few months, and might even take years. Right now, Shardina and the others could not afford to wait such an extended period.

Thus, only two options remained.

“We either increase the number of troops further and resist with sheer numbers... Or we send monsters to fight monsters.”

Upon hearing those words, Celia’s face showed a look of surprise. She had realized who Shardina was referring to as the monsters.

“Are you planning to summon those people?” Celia inquired.

Shardina silently offered a deep nod in response.

Later that day, Seron Fortress dispatched a fast horse to the imperial capital of O’ltormea. The messenger had a letter of petition from Shardina Eisenheit to Emperor Lionel Eisenheit. That letter was the clearest proof that the second invasion of Xarooda had turned into an all-out war that would test the O’ltormea Empire’s pride and resolve.

Afterword

Hello to those of you who are picking up Record of Wortenia War for the first time, though I imagine there aren’t many of you. And to the readers who have been with me since the first volume, it’s been a while.

I am Ryota Hori, the author. I am happy to have delivered volume twenty-nine safely. Well, “safely” is a bit of a stretch. Writing this volume was quite a struggle, just like the others. That said, it progressed more smoothly than last time, and I don’t think I’ve caused too much trouble for the people involved... I hope. Though I feel that causing trouble is somewhat of a given at this point, I trust you’ll forgive me with a smile. Now, enough of my grumbling and reflection. Let me explain some of the highlights of this volume.

This volume sets the stage for a major turning point in the story. Specifically, a big change occurs on the side of the Kingdom of Xarooda. The kingdom will have to make several sacrifices for this, but you’ll find out all about it in the main story.

Also, meetings between Ryoma and the elders of the Organization begins. This volume’s meeting is more of a prelude, but a group that had been nothing but a shadow begins to take form and gradually reveals itself to Ryoma. I hope you enjoy it while anticipating what’s to come.

Around the beginning of December, when volume twenty-nine is released, volume eleven of the manga adaptation will also be available. If you could pick that up as well, that would be absolutely amazing!

Finally, I would like to extend my deepest gratitude to everyone who helped bring this work to life and readers who picked up this book. If all goes as planned, volume thirty will be released next April, and I look forward to meeting you all again then.

I’ll keep doing my best, so I hope you’ll continue to support Record of Wortenia War in the future.

Bonus Story: Who Gets the Macallan?

The Kingdom of Rhoadseria was one of the three nations on the eastern region of the western continent. In a certain room within a mansion in its capital, Pireas, two individuals were locked in a tense struggle. Regardless, it wasn’t as though they were engaged in a life-and-death battle with swords or blades. Their clash unfolded on a Go board, but that didn’t mean it was some casual game.

A light clank echoed through the room after the clattering of stones being placed on a surface. It was the sound of a Go stone striking the wooden board, which was rich in elegance and deeply pleasing to the ear. Yet, to appreciate such elegance, one needed to have the composure of mind. Unfortunately, only a few people could afford such composure.

“Phew... This is a tough one,” said Ryoma Mikoshiba as he scratched his head with his right hand.

That gesture was rare and likely a sign that Ryoma was under psychological pressure. Before his gaze sat an old Go board that was clearly a distinguished piece of heritage. The board itself was a legged Go board made of kaya wood, its sides lacquered and decorated with mother-of-pearl inlay. While it may not have reached the status of a national treasure, it wouldn’t have been strange for it to be designated an important cultural property. Upon that board, black and white stones painted a vivid scene.

Seated on the opposite side of the Go board was Koichiro Mikoshiba, wearing a serene and satisfied smile as if enjoying his grandson’s struggle. The game on the board had likely entered its endgame. Roughly three-fifths of the board had already been filled with black and white stones. To the untrained eye, it would have been difficult to determine which side held the advantage. But judging from Koichiro’s smile, the outcome seemed to be all but decided.

“Well? Care to concede with some dignity?”

Koichiro beamed from ear to ear upon hearing those words. He had just claimed victory in a long-awaited Go match with his grandson, and his face practically radiated triumph. Apparently, Koichiro Mikoshiba was not the kind of man to let his beloved grandson win out of sentiment. Confident in his victory, he reached for the tobacco tray beside him. He packed his beloved custom-made kiseru pipe with shredded tobacco, clamped the mouthpiece between his lips, and lit it with a spark from his right index finger.

He had cast verbal thaumaturgy without incantation.

Even among skilled verbal thaumaturgy users, those capable of activating a spell silently were rare. But for someone of Koichiro’s caliber, it seemed effortless. After Koichiro drew in the tobacco smoke and savored it in his mouth, he exhaled slowly, as if to flaunt his privilege as the victor. It was nothing short of the sweet wine of triumph. Perhaps, in this case, it was the purple smoke of victory.

A sharp tsk escaped from Ryoma’s lips in response to his grandfather’s smug display. “Damn old man... That’s just childish.”

In every sense, it echoed the howl of a sore loser. Still, it was hard not to sympathize with Ryoma’s frustration.

There’s no way I can beat grandpa when we’re evenly matched, Ryoma mused.

He would rather not admit that truth, yet he couldn’t possibly deny it. After all, Koichiro Mikoshiba’s skill in Go was easily among the highest in Japan’s amateur circles. One could describe him as an amateur who stood on the very threshold of the professional level. At the Go salons Koichiro frequented, events known as shidogo—instructional games with professional players—were occasionally held. Normally, amateurs would receive a handicap in the form of okigo when facing a pro. That was only natural, given the overwhelming difference in ability between professionals and amateurs.

Although Koichiro was technically an amateur, he was a formidable player who would boldly challenge professionals to even games without a handicap. Such behavior would normally be considered reckless, even foolish, and a clear sign of someone overestimating their abilities.

It was unthinkable that a casual player, whose involvement with the game was more leisurely than devoted, could ever stand on equal footing with a professional who had dedicated their life to it. In fact, one could consider it disrespectful to challenge a professional to a fair game. But as with all things, there were exceptions.

Koichiro Mikoshiba was one of those rare exceptions in the current game of Go. It had been nothing short of an unfair match for Ryoma, even if he was no novice in the game.

Ever since childhood, Ryoma had been taught all the major board games—Go, shogi, and chess—by his grandfather Koichiro. So it would be fair to say he possessed a decent skill level. He could have easily aimed for a spot on the regular roster if his high school had a Go or shogi club. But even so, the difference in level between him and Koichiro was undeniable. No one understood that reality better than Ryoma. In fact, Koichiro was well aware of it too. That was precisely why Koichiro would always allow Ryoma to take black to have the first-move advantage whenever they played Go. In addition to that, their previous matches had always begun as handicap games, with Ryoma placing two or three stones on the board beforehand.

And yet, it was an even game this time or a serious match without any handicap. Thanks to the result of the nigiri—deciding who plays first by grabbing a handful of black stones and guessing the amount correctly—Ryoma had ended up with the black stones, giving him an advantage. But that was purely a matter of chance.

This meant that Koichiro had approached this match with full seriousness. While actual competition demanded a ruthless mindset, it was still perfectly understandable for Ryoma to feel his grandfather was being immature.

Damn it... Zack really went and gave me a troublesome gift.

The image of Zack Mystel also flashed through Ryoma’s mind. It had all started when Zack acquired this Go board and set of stones, clearly heirloom-quality, and brought them back. From his perspective, Ryoma’s complaints would have seemed completely unfair.

All he had done was present a beautiful set of handcrafted items, likely brought from the hidden world of Rearth, as a gift to the young conqueror. Upon seeing the gifted Go board, it was hardly reasonable to expect that Koichiro would challenge Ryoma to a match.

And now that bottle of whiskey is going to end up in the hands of that damn old man.

Koichiro had pulled out all the stops in their match simply because the prize at stake was Ryoma’s prized bottle of Macallan from 1946. Of course, Ryoma had never intended to offer the Macallan as part of the wager. Even in Japan, it was an extraordinarily rare whiskey that was almost impossible to obtain.

This wasn’t even Rearth; it was another world entirely. One could only describe it as a miracle that he had even encountered it once.

Honestly, it’s not a bottle I ever wanted to share with anyone.

The alcohol did not taste bad, and it was quite the opposite. Because it tasted so excellent, a true lover of fine spirits would want to keep it all to themselves.

As such, Ryoma had reluctantly offered up the precious bottle of whiskey when he asked Koichiro for a particular favor the other day. Even if they were family, Ryoma believed that when asking someone to take on an unreasonable request, it was only proper to show gratitude and to demonstrate one’s seriousness.

Still, maybe that decision was a mistake.

Ryoma never anticipated that Koichiro, who had developed a taste for it, would challenge him to a game of Go with the Macallan on the line.

But a match was a match.

And the loser had no right to protest.

“Laura... Bring it here.”

“Yes, my lord.”

At his command, Laura—quietly waiting behind him—brought the bottle of Macallan he had asked her to prepare in advance. Ryoma took the bottle from her and set it in front of Koichiro.

“Take it, you damn thief...”

It was, in every sense, a declaration of defeat. Unlike Ryoma’s bitter, defeated expression, Koichiro accepted the bottle with a beaming smile.

He slowly removed the cap, then deliberately calmly said, “Well then, I think I’ll have a taste right away. Sara, my dear, would you mind preparing four glasses? Could you also find something suitable to nibble on?”

Koichiro then turned to his stunned grandson and gave him a playful wink. That night, the lights in the room stayed on well past midnight.