Episode 369

Even in her unconscious state, Mei instinctively resisted the pain. Throughout the entire process—washing the torn wound with water, disinfecting it, and stitching it up with needle and thread—she let out soft, pained sounds.

Yet, she never once opened her eyes. That alone spoke volumes about the harsh ordeal she had endured.

Knock, knock.

Noah, who had been quietly sitting beside the bed watching over Mei, turned around at the sound. A soldier cautiously peeked in and informed him that the carriage to transport Mei to the capital was ready.

“It should be ready to depart in about ten minutes. However, the general has ordered that the military doctors and surgeons cannot be detached in case of emergency. Therefore, we intend to administer another dose of painkillers before departure.”

“…Understood.”

“I’ve instructed the royal physicians to prepare for her treatment. Please don’t worry too much, Your Highness.”

Noah gave a subtle nod, signaling the soldier to leave, and the man quietly backed out of the room.

As soon as the door closed, Noah rested his forehead gently against Mei’s shoulder. It was the first time he had done this without a curse manifesting—except for those childhood days when they had cried together for the first time.

He wiped his face with a dry cloth and sighed deeply. So inexperienced, so utterly unprepared. He had failed to protect the village, allowed the soldiers to dwindle, and even those closest to him had drifted away.

“Haah.”

Was that all? If only he could fully grasp control over Ian, everything would turn around. But his own shortcomings had only handed over half the initiative.

The mages insisted that everything was Clifford’s choice, but Noah knew some were already moving according to their will. It was all his fault. His failure to grow properly had put everything Clifford had built in jeopardy.

Alone in the room, Noah finally bowed his head and let tears fall silently. No sound, just the steady drip of tears leaving marks on the bed.

“…Your Highness.”

Then, a gentle hand grasped his wrist.

It was Mei. Though her eyes remained closed and even breathing seemed fragile, she was acutely sensitive to Noah’s tears. Or rather, she couldn’t help but respond. Aside from the king and queen, Noah’s tears were a secret only she was allowed to witness.

“The bed’s getting wet. Please be careful.”

“Mei. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, so I can talk and hold your wrist.”

“…You’ve been through so much.”

“You’ve done well too, Your Highness.”

Mei patted the back of his hand as if to comfort him.

“They say it’s not over until it’s over. The war is just beginning, and history is still being written. Don’t cry. There’s nothing to fear, nothing to be afraid of.”

Noah wiped his tears and nodded. He sensed movement outside. Only then did Mei slightly open her eyes and raise her eyebrows. Her vision was blurry, making it hard to see clearly.

“And didn’t I just take a look right in the middle of their camp? It’s nothing special.”

Mei muttered with a faint smile. Indeed, perhaps because she was from Clifford, the soldiers of Burgos seemed like mere pawns, and their officers and superiors appeared dull-witted.

Soon, there was another knock at the door.

“Your Highness, may we come in?”

“You may.”

“All preparations are complete. Oh, Mei, you’re awake. How are you feeling? We’ll administer painkillers now, so please extend your arm for a moment.”

“It would be a lie to say I’m not in pain.”

“Excuse me.”

The doctor injected the painkillers, then nodded to the soldiers. They carefully moved Mei onto a makeshift stretcher and quietly left the room.

But despite their calm, a loud commotion echoed from deeper within the war room. Noah didn’t even need to look to know who it was—Beric and Akorella making noise again.

“Your Highness, please come in.”

“Mei.”

“I’ll recover at the palace and return.”

Noah pressed his lips firmly together and patted her hand. Despite Mei’s urging to enter, he stayed outside until he saw the carriage disappear over the hill, then turned away.

Thud!

What are those two up to now?

Frowning, Noah flung open the war room door and scowled at the strange objects precariously piled on the table.

Small rods wrapped with magnets, tangled threads, mysterious mana stones—it looked like a child’s crude attempt at making a toy.

Akorella adjusted the mana stones with trembling fingertips, while Beric held his breath, watching intently.

“What are you doing?”

“Shh! Your Highness, this is a very important operation. Don’t speak. If this wobbles, I’m the one who falls too.”

The answer was twice as long as the question. Noah was exasperated but crossed his arms and watched them work.

As the mana stones and rods barely balanced, Akorella silently clenched her fist, signaling success.

“Good! I knew it! Akorella for the win!”

“Is it done? So, what now?”

“Watch closely. When I infuse mana into this…”

With a soft breath, Akorella activated the magic.

The mana stones began to sway slowly, like a pendulum. Then, they spun a full circle before tightening as if an invisible hand was pulling from the left.

“Left. Is it left?”

“Yeah. The accuracy’s a bit off, but it’s not exactly the center of the Burgos camp.”

“What is this?”

“A kind of compass.”

“A compass?”

Bratz’s brooch had a tracking function, but that compass was currently on the second floor of Romandro’s residence. This was a makeshift device to check Hasha’s location.

Though crude and only pointing roughly, it was enough. Even just knowing north, south, east, or west—or up and down—would suffice.

“If Hasha returns safely, he’ll join the other commanders. We want to track that. They won’t all gather in one place, but if there’s a right side, there’s naturally a left. Combining that with troop formations, we can sweep them out.”

“It’s somewhat advanced for the border, but overall it’s low-grade. Still, it can mimic the effect well enough. Be careful around here! If you bump it, it’ll collapse!”

Akorella swung her dagger sharply, warning the mages and soldiers. The blade still bore traces of monster blood, alongside the kingdom-issued mana-sealing stones.

“How’s the weapon supply coming along?”

“We’ll have to wait until dawn. We’ve gathered all the capital’s blacksmiths to increase manpower, so we should be able to meet Lord Ian’s demands to some extent.”

“My demands?”

Noah chuckled, wondering how much she thought she could get. Akorella’s eyes widened as she watched the finely tuned mana stones.

“The direction shifted slightly, just a bit—about ten degrees. It’s either drifting outside the camp or moving west. Did someone touch it?!”

“Captain’s still holding his sword, so what are you talking about?”

“Yeah, if anyone touched it, it’d be the captain.”

“Oh, right. Not me, so okay. Hasha’s moving, Lord Ian.”

Ian nodded and raised his telescope.

In the distance, the Burgos camp lay shrouded in night, lit only by minimal torches. The darkness obscured any movement of horses.

“The sun will fix its position. Let’s wait a little longer.”

“Got it. We’ll guard this until then.”

As Akorella lightly twirled her sword, humming a tune, the mages quietly filed out of the war room. Better to spend the night outside than risk getting caught in the crossfire.

“…Do you think he’ll carry out his mission well?”

“Hasha?”

“Yes.”

“He’s clever and loyal. If you’re worried about that, it’s best not to be.”

Turning his back on Burgos and Astana—their external allies—was a bold, decisive move that threatened the entire Astana faction he represented.

“Many forget past favors under the name of history. Just relaying the conversation with King Damon would be seen as betrayal, but Hasha fulfilled his duty.”

“No, I mean—”

Noah shook his head. He wasn’t questioning his faith in Hasha, the commander. He was concerned about the overall future of their forces.

So much depends on Hasha’s shoulders, and he worried whether the enemy would let him slip through as they wished.

“It’s fine. If it doesn’t work out, so what? We’ll find another way.”

His words might sound dismissive, as if it were someone else’s problem. But his serious, cold gaze surveying the Burgos camp told a different story.

If it doesn’t work, make it work. Find a way.

That was how Ian lived.

“…Try to get some rest. There’s still a long time until dawn.”

Noah checked the time and left the war room. The cold night air rushed in, and inexplicably, he felt lighter.

An unshakable confidence born of absolute certainty, the crushing weight of royalty that even made one hesitate to speak, and an overwhelming sense of defeat, as if he could never surpass this man. All these feelings intertwined, pressing down heavily on Noah’s shoulders. He took a deep breath, trying to blow them away like leaves in the wind.

---

“The prisoner is returning!”

“Clear the way! Dim the torches even more!”

Crackling footsteps.

After a thorough inspection by the battalion commander, Noah was immediately frisked again as soon as he entered the camp. Hasha wore a grim expression—annoyed but resigned—and raised his hands in surrender.

“Follow me. The general is waiting. You’ll need to report everything you saw and heard without leaving anything out.”

“Wait, wait—can’t we move that monster first? The smell is unbearable.”

“When would you go to the rear and come back? We’ve endured this long; just hold on a little longer. Come on, this way.”

“That bastard, acting like it’s not his company’s problem…”

Clack!

Hasha was led into the general’s tent.

The general, his staff, and the battalion commanders were all gathered, waiting for him. They intended to interrogate him thoroughly—hoping for any useful information, or at least to find out if anything had been leaked. The night was short, but the questioning was sure to be long.

The general motioned for him to come in quickly. Hasha glanced around as he stepped inside.

“Where’s Sir Timothy?”

Where could he have gone? Hasha hadn’t seen him when he entered earlier, and he wasn’t inside the tent either. Maybe he’d gone elsewhere.

Hasha took a seat in the center and answered the questions faithfully as the interrogation continued.

“…I’m not certain about the exact number of mages, but it seemed like quite a few.”

“How were they?”

“They appeared to be in good condition.”

“Tch, no unusual signs?”

“It seemed like weapons were being made using magic-sealing stones from the palace. I can’t be sure.”

“I see. So that’s why some mad mage was running around with a dagger. That must be it.”

One by one, the pieces of the puzzle fell into place with Hasha’s testimony. After some time, when there was nothing more to add, the general leaned back in his chair and gave an order.

“That will do. We’ll reposition the command sorcerers. You may leave.”

“Yes, General.”

Hasha breathed a sigh of relief—he’d passed this stage safely. As he stepped outside the tent, he spotted Timothy sitting by the dying campfire.

Grabbing the collar of the soldier guiding him, Hasha made a request.

“Sorry, but could you let me warm up for a moment before moving? It was cold over there, and here the chill wind hits me straight. If I move now, I might get sick.”

“It’s just a little further. Warm yourself by the fire over there.”

“Wait a moment!”

Just as Hasha was about to stomp his foot anxiously, Timothy unexpectedly called out to him.

“Hey.”

“Come sit here beside me. What if you hurt your leg on the way? You said you just need to warm up, so it’s fine.”

“But—”

“I’ll take responsibility.”

“Yes, understood. I’ll come back shortly then.”

With Timothy’s firm words, the soldier reluctantly stepped back. This was Hasha’s chance. He quickly sat down opposite Timothy, pretending to warm himself while sneaking a glance at him.

Timothy’s sharp eyes swept over Hasha clearly. As a prisoner returning from enemy territory, he too had many questions he wanted to ask but had been unable to join the meeting. Honestly, he doubted the general and staff had done a thorough job.

“Is it because you’re from Astana?”

As the diplomat, it was Timothy’s duty to gather information on the other side. That was why he had stopped Hasha from leaving.

Hasha rubbed his hands together and replied.

“Yes.”

Both men looked down toward the campfire, silently acknowledging their shared luck. Soon, a conversation as cold and biting as the wind would begin.