Chapter 395
Samobo opened the door to the operations room and ushered Noah inside.
The generals, who had been studying the maps, stood up to greet him. They quickly noticed from the slight furrow in his brow that the prince was not in a good mood.
Samobo glanced sideways at Jarrett, who hadn’t followed them in, then closed the door behind him. The Minister of Magic’s strange behavior suggested that the Imperial Palace Guard was likely holding their own meeting before entering the operations room.
Carefully, Samobo asked, “Prince Noah, is something wrong? Did something happen?”
“…Sir Ian made a proposal. He said that if the mages don’t return safely by tomorrow, they won’t fight alongside the Clifford alliance—they’ll fight for the Bariel mages instead.”
“What? Just like that?”
“I thought he was still recovering from the side effects and tried to buy time, but he’s adamant. Are there still no signs from the Burgos and Luswena factions?”
The generals immediately understood the gravity of fighting for the land of Clifford. It meant disregarding the cracks sleeping beneath the earth, the sacrifices of their own people, and the territories that would be destroyed.
They nodded, troubled.
“Yes. It seems Luswena’s forces haven’t finished organizing yet. We were considering forming a special task force to cover what we might have missed—specifically the forest path to the northeast. We could make contact there, but we weren’t sure if they’d be aware, so we only approached from below.”
They had been watching for any openings between Burgos and Luswena, but so far, no progress.
Noah sat in the seat of honor and pressed his fingers to his forehead, mirroring the posture Ian had taken earlier. Samobo, feeling a pang of sympathy, sat opposite him and spoke gently.
“Your Highness, I know conscription is something you deeply dislike. The harvest season is near, and if we miss the timing, everyone could starve this winter. Besides, reinforcements are coming from Bariel. I think it would be best to try persuading Sir Ian. Once the side effects wear off, he’ll likely return to his previous stance.”
Noah agreed. Ian was still haunted by the names of the lost soldiers. Even in full mental health, that burden would be heavy, but the side effects of his magic only amplified it.
If they could just buy time, there might be a way. But the problem was the deadline Ian had set—only one day. They couldn’t just pray for the magic to wear off in that short a time.
Noah sighed deeply and ordered paper and a pen.
“I’ll draft a message. If there’s no movement from Burgos or Luswena by dawn, we’ll make contact first.”
They needed to find out if the mages were being held captive, their condition, and what it would take to secure their release.
There was even the possibility of negotiating an armistice. After all, they had seen Ian and the mages’ power with their own eyes. They must realize the difference in strength, so a compromise might not be a bad option. Most importantly, this was a critical moment when the mages might turn their backs on Clifford.
Noah frowned as he picked up the pen.
“I wish Meiga were here.”
“Shall I call her over?”
“No. Let her continue her treatment.”
After a moment’s thought, Noah shook his head. It would be better to draft the message and have Ian review it. After all, this was a plan for him and his mages.
Samobo sighed deeply, sensing the prince’s hesitation.
“Your Highness, I think it would be best to seek His Majesty’s help. You saw Sir Ian’s behavior earlier. I believe the relationship is already fractured. There are also strategic differences with Maxim Tweller, the Minister of Imperial Defense. Perhaps it’s best to leave the decision to His Majesty.”
“You want me to hand back to my father what he entrusted to me? What a fine prince I must be.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Enough, Samobo. Stop. Even if my father came now, nothing would change. It’s better I handle this myself.”
The line was drawn clearly. If Ian’s attitude and position didn’t shift even with the king’s intervention, it would only complicate matters.
“Besides, we’re not ordering conscription immediately. There’s still time.”
As Noah spoke, footsteps approached outside. Captain Jarrett entered the operations room with several subordinates.
The door creaked open.
Jarrett nodded to the prince and generals, introducing himself.
“Greetings. Allow me to formally reintroduce myself. I am Jarrett, one of the three commanders of the Bariel Imperial Palace Guard. Regardless of Sir Ian’s decision, we have orders from the Crown Prince to ensure the safe return of the magic division. We will cooperate fully with Clifford. Please let us know if you need anything.”
“Thank you.”
It was a relief. Several generals shook his hand heartily, welcoming him warmly. Though not as magically strong as the mages, this was the best fighting force Bariel had to offer. Their mission was to protect the emperor, so expectations were high.
Jarrett took a seat and glanced around. Noah followed his gaze, silently asking why.
“Prince, did Sir Ian say anything to you before the Palace Guard arrived?”
“Say anything in particular?”
“About the battle or future plans. As you can see, Sir Ian is mentally exhausted, so we haven’t been properly briefed. I wanted to ask if you knew anything.”
Jarrett was subtly trying to glean information through Noah about what Varsabe had reported. It wasn’t a lie—after waking, Ian was clearly not the man they knew, making conversation difficult.
Noah shrugged, puzzled.
“Not really. We carried out all the strategies and tactics we discussed in today’s battle. The Luswena mage’s sudden actions were an exception.”
“I see. Then we only need to discuss what comes next. I heard you’re forming a special task force. How about assigning one of our men to each unit? Since they can sense magic, they’d be a great help in scouting and combat.”
“That would be appreciated. It’s a bit difficult to resolve everything within the one day Ian gave us.”
“Understood. And please forgive our earlier rudeness.”
“We don’t mind. It happened while fighting for Clifford.”
Truthfully, Noah did mind. But if he admitted it, it would only lead to more needless bloodshed among their own people.
Just as Noah dipped his pen in ink to discuss the message’s contents, there was a knock.
“Minister Maxim Tweller of Imperial Defense.”
“Come in.”
“Excuse me.”
The elderly man entered, and both Jarrett and Noah’s eyes brightened. They seemed curious about what conversation would follow. But Tweller shrugged as if it was nothing and sat opposite them.
“Sir Ian wanted to rest alone. Our talks ended early, so I have nothing to report. It was mostly personal questions.”
Historically, the Imperial Defense Ministry and the Palace Guard were like spear and shield, oil and water. That was until now. But with Jin placing his own people in both, the relationship was beginning to shift.
Tweller, well aware of this, nodded to Jarrett as if to swear there was truly nothing more to say.
“So, what were you discussing?”
“Oh, we’re planning to deploy magic swordsmen in the special task force, and I’ll draft the message to send to Burgos and Luswena. If there’s no news by dawn, we’ll make contact first. The problem is—”
“The problem is that the message must be written so the other side doesn’t learn Clifford’s position, right?”
Tweller cut to the heart of the matter. Due to Ian’s magic side effects and various interests, the rift between Bariel and Clifford must not be revealed to the enemy.
They needed to conceal all that while discovering the prisoners’ status and gaining the upper hand for negotiation.
Noah nodded in stunned agreement. Tweller stroked his beard thoughtfully.
“Ah, wait. We’ve faced a similar situation before.”
“Minister, do you mean the battle of Pluie? I recall the opposing alliance collapsed without us realizing it. Of course, you seized the advantage, and I heard you personally praised the message sent then.”
“Yes, the battle of Pluie. The message went like this…”
Back and forth, the two veterans exchanged words. Noah watched, wondering what was going on, then realized this was a generous offer and an opportunity he couldn’t refuse.
They were fulfilling their roles while diplomatically apologizing for Ian’s rudeness. It showed just how influential Ian was in Bariel—closely tied to the current power.
“Could you also give me paper and a pen? I’ll write down what I remember.”
“Of course. Here you go.”
“First, we must affirm the alliance is strong. Of course, Clifford and Bariel are currently working together in this very operations room, but tomorrow, as Sir Ian said, who knows what will happen? Rather than writing lengthy explanations, showing even one clear piece of evidence will be more effective.”
“Understood. For example, sending envoys from Bariel, or using Bariel seals or containers for the message.”
Noah hurriedly jotted down notes, listening intently to the two men. The generals scrambled to find the scroll tube in Bariel style and hurriedly ordered the messengers to prepare Bariel attire. Through the half-open door, the commotion outside spilled in clearly.
Tap tap tap!
Bang! Boom!
What’s all that noise? Noah frowned, but he couldn’t get up—the advice from Tweller kept coming nonstop.
Just then, a flustered servant appeared, sweat pouring down his face as he reported breathlessly.
“Uh, P-Prince Noah.”
“What is it? It’s noisy outside.”
“The meal… well, to prepare the food the mages requested, we need to use fire. May I have your permission?”
“What do you mean?”
At night, they kept only the bare minimum of light to avoid revealing themselves, holding their breath in the darkness. The moonlight was bright, but that was an unchanging rule and common sense.
The servant bowed again, drenched in sweat.
“Please allow us to light a fire to cook. Otherwise, the mages say they’ll have to grill the meat with magic.”
Tweller and Jaret exchanged glances, a mix of curiosity and amusement in their eyes.
A meal? It seemed trivial, but it was actually a clear green light. Appetite is a primal, instinctive desire. For those sinking into despair, even the faintest stirrings of hunger meant a definite will was beginning to surface.
“…I hope you’ll allow it, Your Highness.”
Tweller smiled gently and added,
“We can’t waste the precious magic of the mages on cooking meat, after all.”
“Ah, well…”
“Actually, we served the leftover dinner earlier, but Lord Beric ate far too much. He says it didn’t even touch his liver—ugh.”
Jaret closed his eyes, pretending not to hear the servant’s miserable expression. Everyone in the palace knew Beric’s appetite well.
Noah looked around, flustered. Tweller and Jaret seemed to welcome the sudden request. Though he didn’t fully understand the implications, Noah sensed it wasn’t a bad idea.
“Alright. Light the fire.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
“An-”
“Yes?”
“Make sure it’s good, good meat.”
“Y-Yes, understood.”
Tap tap tap!
Crash! Bang! Boom!
As the servant rushed out in a panic, the noise outside grew louder again—the mages had taken over the kitchen, barking orders at the cooks.
Noah slumped back into his seat, bewildered, when Tweller tapped the edge of the paper to draw his attention.
“Your Highness, let’s continue with the scroll.”
“Ah, yes.”
War, hardship, wounds, the destruction of others—sometimes, comfort comes from the smallest things. Tweller was confident, based on his battlefield experience, that soon the ruckus would turn into laughter.
“Iaaan!”
“…Oh dear.”
“Aaah! Don’t eat that! That’s mine, don’t eat it!”
“Shut up! No shame? You crazy?”
“Iaaan! Help me! Stop them! Aaah! They’re killing me!”
Sure enough, the area around the barrier brightened, filled with lively screams and shouts. Ian’s voice wasn’t heard, but it was definitely mixed in there somewhere.
Meanwhile, at that moment—
Eriphoni, watching the clifford barrier through her telescope, lowered it and muttered.
“Fire suddenly flaring up at night? Inside the barrier?”
“What are they up to?”
“…I’ll send scouts to check on the mages.”
At Eldert’s words, the king nodded.
“The barrier’s noisy. We should hurry too. Send word to King Burgos to meet earlier.”