Chapter 371
To Realize Is to Open One’s Eyes
Timothy opened his eyes as he stepped out of the general’s tent. The unfamiliar foreign land pressed down on him like a dark cloud, and countless soldiers’ eyes were fixed on him, watching his every move.
Someone he met gaze with gave an awkward smile. Though the man meant no harm, Timothy felt uneasy. Whispers seemed to be about him, and whenever he glanced back, everyone quickly looked away as if pretending not to notice.
What kind of feeling was this? He had simply walked forward in silence, yet looking back, the path seemed twisted. Something—some instinct—was compelling his steps.
“Sir Timothy?”
“Are you inside?”
“Ah, yes, yes! Company Commander! It’s Sir Timothy!”
It was the tent of the officer who had stopped him earlier. The officer stood up in surprise to greet Timothy, tilting his head in puzzlement.
Timothy’s eyes looked vacant, as if dazed. His massive frame cast a long shadow over the officer’s desk. Perhaps because of that, the officer didn’t notice how pale Timothy looked.
“What’s the matter, Sir Timothy?”
“Earlier…”
The officer swallowed nervously, fingers inching toward the sword sheath he had set aside. He assumed Timothy had come to vent his anger after being scolded by the general.
“Thank you for earlier.”
“Pardon?”
“If I had lost control and harmed the command sorcerer, it wouldn’t have ended with just a scolding. With the upcoming major operation against Clifford’s company, I nearly jeopardized an important asset through my mistake. I wanted to express my gratitude for stopping me.”
“Oh.”
Only then did the officer breathe a sigh of relief. Well, as a diplomat, he was flexible and fair. It was only right to be thanked. Indeed.
The officer clapped Timothy on the shoulder and laughed heartily.
“Haha. Don’t mention it. War sharpens nerves, and even small things can set one off. You, Sir Timothy, have no experience with this, so it’s understandable. If that command sorcerer was rude, I’ll make sure to settle it later.”
“No, no. It’s nothing like that. On reflection, it was all my fault.”
It was all his fault. The officer suddenly felt the weight of those words was lighter than it should be—spoken not to the man before him, but as if aimed at someone far away.
“Would you care for some tea?”
Timothy sat down and made the request. The officer gestured to a subordinate, and soon the two passed the time with light conversation.
“Though we come from different places, fighting side by side on the battlefield makes us comrades, brothers-in-arms, family, doesn’t it? Ha ha ha!”
“Company Commander, you speak the truth.”
“By the way, your martial skills are impressive.”
“Well, I’ve been wandering the wilds quite a bit…”
Timothy nodded along, subtly glancing down at the table. It was a map of Clifford’s territory, obtained in Burgos.
Because it could influence wartime strategy, each country strictly forbade foreigners from conducting geographic surveys. The map was a patchwork, built up over time by traders and diplomats adding bits here and there.
Timothy’s eyes moved swiftly and keenly.
‘Since we’re here now, the path back to Baki village is blocked. There’s a route through where Prince Noah launched his ambush earlier. Going that way would pass the village, but with rumors of war, approaching won’t be easy. Then, the only option is to descend the cliff…’
“Sir Timothy?”
“Ah.”
It was time to return to Burgos. Timothy realized the unconscious urge that had moved him. Once he had roughly found the route, he stood up as if he had no more business there.
“Thank you for the tea. Rest well—for tomorrow.”
“…Y-yes. You too.”
Watching Timothy leave without hesitation, the officer frowned repeatedly. Then he noticed Timothy hadn’t taken a single sip of tea. Truly a strange man.
Meanwhile, Timothy returned to his tent and began packing. Though, there wasn’t much to pack—just some useful rope, weapons, and…
‘Bariel’s travel permits. Three uses total, but if traveling with others, the count is shared.’
Timothy clutched his head. If only he had brought the permits with him.
Could it be that Lord Ian had foreseen all this and given them to him? Or was it a trap? No, the general’s behavior hadn’t been normal enough for that.
Timothy clenched his teeth and waited for the night to deepen. Once everyone was asleep and only minimal guards remained on watch, he would mount his horse and slip out of the camp to return to Burgos.
He clasped his hands as if in prayer, picturing his wife and son’s faces.
“Damn it.”
He was anxious. His mind was tangled. Otherwise, how could he not picture his family’s faces? When was the last time he played with his son? When did he last share tea and conversation with his wife?
He couldn’t remember. He had thought he lived solely for them, but the more he looked back, the more off-track it seemed. He only clearly remembered King Damon’s face.
Timothy repeated the map’s details in his mind and closed his eyes. Please, let the darkness come quickly.
Dawn, as the heat from the makeshift stove faded.
Ian leaned back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. The endless geometric patterns reminded him of the tangled, intertwined nature of human life.
Though it was wartime, and even the sun was still asleep, this place felt unusually peaceful—except for the loud snoring of Beric, who slept back-to-back with the mages.
“He’s moving, moving…”
Akorella muttered, having stayed awake all night worried about the mana crystal. As she said, the crystal was tilting slightly at an angle.
To the right? Just as Ian was about to check outside the window, he sensed footsteps rushing down the corridor. Soldiers from Clifford’s forces.
Tap tap!
Bang!
“Excuse me, mages!”
“Please open the door gently! Don’t disturb the stones! And don’t you know how to knock? Slamming it like that—really.”
“Ah, sorry, sorry. We just received a message from the palace. Prince Noah has summoned everyone.”
Some of the mages stirred, but still groggy, blinking and unable to fully wake.
Ian rose from the sofa and motioned for quiet.
“Akorella, stay here. I’ll be back.”
“Yes, yes. Please close the door gently when you leave. Hmm, it felt like it shook a bit.”
Reassured, the rustling mages soon drifted back to sleep. Beric, dreaming of who knows what, scratched his belly and chuckled softly.
“Sir, you said ‘everyone’ was summoned.”
“I am their superior and responsible for them. So me alone is effectively everyone. I’ll hear the message and decide. Lead the way.”
The soldier bit his lip nervously, fearing a scolding. Following Akorella’s advice, he gently closed the door and guided Ian.
Officers arrived one after another, unarmed, having been roused from nearby barracks by the same summons.
Creak.
“Prince, what is the matter?”
“Did you call us?”
Noah was staring at the palace letter, furrowing his brow when he saw Ian alone.
“You said everyone was to come.”
“It was a sudden summons, so I judged it best to meet you alone to avoid disturbing the mages’ mana charging.”
Clearing their throats nervously, the officers exchanged glances. Reporting a direct disobedience of orders was risky—they’d be executed if roles were reversed.
But if the palace message was truly urgent, Noah sighed and turned his head.
“Reinforcements have arrived.”
“Reinforcements?”
“Oh! Really? That’s why you called all the mages. That’s a relief. Though we have the advantage inside the barrier, if more enemy troops join, it could get difficult. Especially with monsters in tow.”
“Then we should strike at first light.”
“Yes, exactly. Before they can join forces, we must deal with them—”
Noah frowned and raised a hand to stop him. That wasn’t it.
“The reinforcements are from Burgos.”
“Prince, that is…”
“Ruswena.”
Ian spoke for the officers who had just woken.
If they were allied with Burgos, they were likely all stationed at the border, waiting. Once the wartime situation was shared, they planned to advance and squeeze Clifford’s forces from both sides.
“They say they’re waiting in Ruswena—to receive updates on the battle, the situation, and whether Bariel has intervened.”
Ian’s question made Noah click his tongue inwardly. Ian recited the message so precisely without even looking at the letter—it was no longer surprising, but irritating and uncanny. Noah pushed the paper to the center of the table for all to see.
“The number of soldiers doesn’t seem large. They say they get no answers when they ask what’s going on. A thorough blockade. The plan is to press from front and rear simultaneously to divide Clifford’s forces.”
They wanted to burst Clifford’s forces like a balloon. Noah looked at Ian and made a request.
“So, can you spare a few mages to send east? The enemy numbers are small. A few should suffice.”
If he had simply agreed, they could have sent them off immediately. That was why everyone had been summoned here in the first place. But the self-important Minister of Magic had casually taken the prince of a nation hostage.
“……”
“Lord Ian?”
They had expected him to accept without hesitation, but Ian’s expression was troubled. The officers exchanged uneasy glances, all eyes fixed on him.
“I don’t think that will be possible.”
“What?”
An unexpected answer.
They were practically allies now, and their current position was no different from mercenaries. They weren’t asking to send everyone—just a few, to prevent their forces from being spread too thin and to cover their rear. And he was refusing?
The officers chimed in, trying to persuade Ian.
“L-Lord Ian, we’ve all witnessed the power of the mages firsthand. I understand it’s a burden to send some of our men separately, but even just one or two stationed there—”
“They’re not wearing just any uniform.”
“Huh?”
What was he talking about? Of course, they’d be in Luswena military attire. The officers exchanged glances and fell silent. They sensed that one wrong word here could change the fate of Cleaford.
“Don’t you know? The black armor they used in Haiman—the main material is dragon scale. Lady Haiman is from Luswena’s royal family and has close ties with them. We’re already stretched thin, and now you want to send even a few soldiers? The intention is too obvious. I must refuse.”
Sending even one or two mages lightly could lead to their deaths. Ian waved the letter gently and proposed an alternative.
“First, Cleaford should focus on maintaining a standoff with Luswena. Now that they know we’re waiting for a messenger, cutting off their communication network is the priority. I won’t order mages to the border, but I will command a search of the surrounding area to block any contact between Burgos and Luswena.”
Ian furrowed his brow as if deep in thought. Then, looking at the map, he traced a line with his finger from the eastern to the western border of Cleaford—that is, from the border with Luswena to the border with Burgos.
“There’s a good chance they share the black armor. Send scouts to check if any supplies are being transported from Luswena to Burgos. This area is a dead land with limited routes. It shouldn’t be difficult.”
Surely they could manage that much? Ian’s gaze seemed to ask the question silently.
Noah squeezed his eyes shut, then nodded as if resigned.
“…Understood, Lord Ian.”