Chapter 3: A Midsummer Cake and the Beginnings of Autumn

The royal army had been sent running. After I was summoned to a beautiful conference room filled with white plaster and wooden pillars, that was the first thing I heard.

Everyone gathered there took the news surprisingly well. In Reggie’s and Alan’s case, it probably helped that they had read my past-life notebook. For everyone else, the present state of civilization meant there was no use panicking about it.

There were no planes or trains here. No matter how hard we rushed, it would take us days to reach the province of Sestina. Considering we had to fight all the Llewynians in our path, it was likely to take us more than a month.

The most anxious one in the room seemed to be Lord Sorwen, who was deathly pale... but I assumed the actual cause of his distress was the happenings of the previous night.

Some time before breakfast, Reggie had taken him to task for his failure to keep his own subjects under control. Right before we went inside the meeting room, Reggie had informed me that “the matter was settled.”

Lord Sorwen flicked his gaze toward him as he listened to the report.

What he was really worried about, evidently, was the impact all this would have from a business perspective. He was worried that if we were annexed by Llewyne, and all the nobles who had opposed them were killed, he would never be able to collect their outstanding debts.

He kept muttering “my money” over and over. Jerome, who was sitting next to him, looked pretty put off by it.

Paying him no mind, Alan said, “Supposing the royal army has been laid to waste, it becomes that much harder for us to defeat Llewyne.”

The royal army had lost their clash against the invading Llewyne forces. All the nobility who had sent out their soldiers had either surrendered or fled. The nobles living near the royal capital, including the marquis of Sestina, had their hands full either defending their territory or making preparations to flee in the night. Meanwhile, the Llewynians were taking their time, leaving those lords alone for the time being.

“They’re a safe distance from Sorwen, after all. We have no choice but to stay put until the autumn breeze blows through. That leaves the uncertainty of when Llewyne will launch their attack on the royal capital, but there’s nothing more we can do for now. Our side of things is proceeding according to plan,” Jerome declared, taking the various circumstances into account.

Everyone nodded in agreement. From the start, we had known we wouldn’t make it in time to stop Llewyne’s attack on the royal capital.

His expression unchanging, Reggie added, “According to some intelligence I received, it is highly likely that His Majesty the King has already been assassinated. As such, it was fully expected that the man he appointed as general would fail to unify the troops and therefore succumb to the Llewynians. I don’t believe this calls for a change in our plans.”

“Let’s spend the rest of the summer building up our defenses from Évrard to Cassia,” Jerome agreed.

“Are there any Llewynian survivors left in Sorwen or Cassia?” Alan asked.

“Generally speaking, we either call for their surrender or hunt them down and ship them off to Évrard. I’ve received word that there’s been talk of exchanging prisoners of war via Erendor. A Llewynian will come with payment, and we’ll return their men for a ransom. In the meantime, we’ll have them tend the fields to the north, much like we’re already doing in Évrard,” Reggie responded.

Upon hearing that, Lord Sorwen paused his money mantra and lifted his head. “In other words... it may cost us more time and effort, but if we ship off Llewynians without killing them, we can whittle down Llewyne’s funds?”

“Yes, but it costs us extra money of our own to pay for the guards and provide meals for our prisoners,” Reggie immediately interjected.

Lord Sorwen swiftly abandoned his scheme to make money off the prisoners of war. He must have realized that even if he diligently shipped off the prisoners, he’d have to use up his whole cut of the profits to do it. After all, at least half of the ransom would go to Évrard, the territory shouldering the heaviest burden. Reggie would collect most of the remaining money as military funds.

“If we aren’t heading out on the march, our next concern should be the harvest,” Évrard’s cavalry general chimed in. Lord Sorwen bobbed his head in agreement several times, stressing that this was of the utmost importance.

“We should leave patrols in the neighborhoods for the benefit of those who have returned to their fields. I’ve already left Cassia in Edam’s hands. As far as Sorwen goes, I’ll have to ask you to make use of your prized soldiers, Marquis,” Reggie submitted with a smile.

The marquis sagged in his seat. Unlike Cassia, which had lost nearly all its soldiers and seen its baron murdered, Sorwen had withdrawn and thus had forces left to spare. Of course Sorwen would be expected to manage their own affairs.

Reggie looked around at everyone in the room. “Now then. Given the presence of His Majesty’s troops, we have thus conducted ourselves as a volunteer army with the mission of defending our country. However, now that His Majesty’s well-being has been called into question, and he is no longer in a position to lead those forces, as his successor, I hereby designate the troops under my command as the Farzian royal army.”

Up until now, Reggie had commanded the troops under his authority as the prince. As royalty, he was eligible to hold the rank of commander, so there was no issue with that in and of itself. However, there was still the king to account for, and he had called together a separate army. Because Reggie and his men were outside that chain of command, he had refrained from referring to his own forces as the Farzian royal army.

“As in the past, I will serve as the commander, and Alan Évrard will be my deputy. Edam Reinstar and Jerome Limerick shall be my generals. Our spellcaster, Kiara Cordier, will assist the deputy commander. Her rank is equivalent to that of a general.”

When I heard the last part, I gawked at Reggie.

My actual rank hadn’t changed much from what it had been. Just one thing had changed: after spending so long treated like a wild card, my position had finally been established in clear terms. I was to be incorporated into Alan’s troops.

For a brief moment, I wondered if Reggie had finally acknowledged my strength. Of course, it was just as likely that he was only trying to avoid confusion when soldiers from other territories joined up with us.

Edam and Jerome were named as generals because, within our country’s army, soldiers were typically led by nobles of their own province. So long as their lord hadn’t been killed, all those conscripted—knights, soldiers, and commoners alike—were to be managed by their respective territories.

Right then, a knight waiting outside the meeting room announced that another messenger had arrived. Looking a little haggard, the middle-aged man entered and presented a rolled-up letter.

Groul took the letter and unfurled it, then handed the correspondence to Reggie.

“Hm. It seems we’ve reached an agreement with Erendor. A few thousand of their soldiers have arrived at Évrard.”

“A few thousand is plenty! If they don’t want to stir up trouble with Erendor, Llewyne can’t keep using the same route. Their only option left is to send their soldiers through Salekhard,” Jerome remarked, smiling.

I was relieved. The kingdom located just south of Farzia, Erendor, was willing to cooperate with us. With this, we could curb Llewyne’s invasion from the Évrard border.

Partly thanks to the report, although we were still on the brink of losing the royal capital to Llewyne, the meeting ended on a high note.

“Erm, Lady Spellcaster?” When I stepped out of the room, the same messenger from before addressed me.

This almost never happened to me. I stopped and pointed at myself, asking, “Wait, you mean me?”

The messenger nodded his head vigorously. “I was entrusted with a letter addressed to you.”

The envelope he presented me with was indeed addressed to Miss Kiara Cordier. It was from Lady Évrard. I dove into reading it right away, wondering what it could possibly be about. As I perused its contents, I cried out, “Oh, that’s right!”

“What is it, Miss Kiara?” asked Cain, who was escorting me.

“It’s his birthday!”

“Pardon?”

“Alan’s birthday is coming up! If we don’t arrange something quick, we’ll miss it!”

In two more days, it would be August’s Saint Thistle’s Day—which meant Alan’s seventeenth birthday was quickly approaching. Meanwhile, both of his parents were under the distant sky. Well, technically, we were the ones under the distant sky.

Thinking ahead, Lady Évrard had written a letter with a request for Alan’s birthday. She didn’t mind if it ended up a little late, but whenever we next stopped somewhere, she wanted us to treat Alan to some sort of dessert. She’d included the money to cover it in the envelope.

It turned out that Alan was a big fan of cakes and sweets. Each year, Lady Évrard would have our cook bake him a cake, but that obviously wasn’t going to happen this year. Besides, many of the ingredients for a cake were scarce during wartime, so she had made the call that any sweet treat would do.

Her Ladyship’s motherly concern for her son warmed my heart—especially given the knowledge that if Reggie and Lord Évrard had died, finding the right dessert would have been the least of her worries.

Of course, she couldn’t saddle her messenger with perishable goods. Instead, she had delegated the task to me, the one with the most time to spare.

I had a lot more free time on my hands than everyone else. Battles were a contest of strength, so Reggie and the soldiers had to train every day to keep from losing muscle. I, on the other hand, didn’t have to worry about that. I barely played a role in running the military either. For me, getting a dessert ready would be no big deal.

The distribution of goods had become somewhat erratic in Sorwen, but the town hadn’t been pillaged, so we could still get our hands on a reasonable amount of supplies. The villages up in the mountains had escaped the invasion unscathed, so even luxury items remained on the market.

Heck, there had been fruit in our breakfast and last night’s dinner. It certainly wasn’t the scant wartime meal I had imagined. That was a good sign that I would be able to find all the ingredients I needed.

The real issue was how to get it baked. The manor had just been inundated with a huge flood of guests, so the chefs of the kitchen were likely too busy to help me out.

“I’ve got nothing but time on my hands. I could always bake it myself.”

“What’s your plan?”

“I’m thinking of baking a cake in Lady Évrard’s stead. Just something simple.”

I could make a pound cake, at least.

Cain looked like he hadn’t expected me to say that. “That’s unusual. I’ve never seen you do a commoner’s work before.”

“Oh... Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

The idea of it had taken him by surprise, seeing as I had been a count’s daughter (though only for a short time). Daughters of nobility never made sweets with their own two hands. Never partaking in any manual labor was considered a noble’s status symbol. Knowing how to delegate their work to others was what earned them respect. The only productive tasks a noblewoman would ever do were embroidery and knitting. Cooking was completely out of the question.

“There’s no need for you to make it, is there? Why don’t you ask one of the marquis’ cooks?”

“Normally, I would. But they already have a huge group to serve, and having the prince here keeps them on their toes, so I’m afraid it would just create more work for them. The only problem is... they might not want an outsider poking around in the kitchen, so I need to go get permission first.”

When I brought up my concerns, Cain said, “Well, in that case...” and led me back to the meeting room we had occupied earlier. Luckily for us, the marquis had just stepped out into the hallway.

Cain approached him. “I have a matter I’d like to discuss, Your Lordship.”

Lord Sorwen shot us a petrified stare, but once we explained that we wanted to use the kitchen, he gave us permission. He basically said that we were free to either ask one of the chefs or make it ourselves. He did, however, give me an odd look when I insisted I wanted to do the baking.

With that out of the way, I started off by purchasing the ingredients. It was a bit pricey, but with Cain’s help, I managed to pick up flour, sugar, butter, and eggs. I spotted some dried fruit for sale, so I bought that too.

That gave me flashbacks to the time Isaac had offered me candied fruit, and I impulsively purchased a candied citrus peel to keep on my person.

As he split the groceries up into small bags for me, Cain asked, “Are you planning to eat while we walk?”

“Erm... Yes, exactly! It’s nice to do on occasion.”

There was a chance I would never see him again, but Isaac had taken the time to hear me out, even if he’d been a little rude about it; I was really grateful to him. I hoped that if I imitated him, I might start to take after him a bit. The thought alone embarrassed me, so I wasn’t about to go and tell anyone that. It was my little secret.

Cain helped me carry some of the bags, and together we returned to the manor. The marquis had already spoken to his staff, so when we let ourselves into the kitchen, they kindly provided us with a space to do our work. Even better, they had readied the spare kitchen for us so that we could use it to our hearts’ content.

Now we didn’t have to worry about getting in the cooks’ way as they took breaks or laid out the ingredients before getting ready for dinner. Once the preparations were in full swing, they would need this room too, but that just meant we had to finish up before then.

I dove straight into making my cake. After peeking into the furnace, which already had a fire going, I left a pot full of water inside to boil. The only measuring instrument I had available to me was a scale, so I used a counterweight to measure out enough ingredients for five cakes.

After I had melted the butter in hot water, I went out the back door and into the garden. I placed a hand on a decently large rock and transformed it into a stone golem. I tried to mold it into a humanoid shape, but it ended up looking more like a paper doll. Oh well. As long as I could use it, that was good enough. I managed to make fingers on both of its hands too.

I created two of those. Once each of them was holding an egg-filled bowl and a whisk, I had them get to work stirring like a mixer.

“Hehehe! Now I can beat the eggs without any of the hard labor!”

“Are you sure this is a proper use of magic?” Cain quipped.

“Absolutely! Better this than dealing with the muscle pain after the fact,” I shot back.

I didn’t need to flex my muscles to cast spells. Sure, I would still wear myself out, but at least I wouldn’t be sore later on!

Cain gave me a dubious look, but I just told him to go check on how the butter was coming along.

I checked on the bowls I’d left with the stone golems, then handed them new ones to keep stirring; meanwhile, I added flour, butter, and dried fruit into the egg mixtures. After repeating that process for all five portions, I poured the batter into molds and had a stone golem stick them in the furnace for me so I wouldn’t get burned.

Eventually, the sweet fragrance of butter wafted through the kitchen. As I sniffed the air and impatiently waited for it to finish baking, Cain muttered, “This takes me back... I just remembered that my mother baked a cake for me once, a long time ago.”

Making sweets together seemed to have triggered a sense of nostalgia in Cain.

“Was your mother a good cook?”

“She was average. I come from a family of knights that has served the House of Évrard for generations, so we made a stable living. Even so, Mother preferred to do all the cooking herself. Perhaps I’m so nostalgic for the taste because it’s something I grew accustomed to in my childhood years.”

Cain’s mother had passed away; no matter how much he wanted to taste her cooking again, he never could. He had to be missing her deeply.

“It must be lonely,” I accidentally mumbled aloud.

Cain nodded. “I’m working through those feelings by fighting Llewyne. It’s the one thing I can still do for my mother now that she’s gone. So... please don’t hesitate to fight, Miss Kiara. In return, I’ll be there to support you.”

“Well, I don’t plan to stop.” It was hard to outright agree to what he was asking.

Today wasn’t terribly hot, but the air near the furnace was scorching. A breeze blew from the kitchen door to the window, but the atmosphere was no less oppressive for it.

“All the same, I still wish I didn’t have to fight.”

I was still as afraid of violence as ever. I didn’t want to watch Reggie or anyone else I loved die; I wanted to go back to the days when we could all live in peace. All I was doing was shoving down my aversion to murder in order to make that happen.

“Besides, at least half of the Llewynian soldiers were drafted. Knowing that some of them have been forced to fight so they can keep on living their lives... it’s hard. What I’d really like to do is demonstrate an overwhelming enough difference in strength that they’ll just go running.”

If they ran away, it meant I didn’t have to kill them.

Cain narrowed his eyes. “And what if the soldiers you spared were just lying to you so they could get away, and once they escaped, they simply ran off to go kill more Farzian soldiers?”

“Well...”

That was definitely one possible scenario. I hung my head, unable to counter his logic, but Cain didn’t back off with just that.

“Not everyone can be as noble as you. If they were to run out of food, there are some who would kill and steal what they need. If we keep heading west, eventually we will have to fight the Farzian soldiers who threw in their lot with Llewyne. The nobles who sided with the queen chose to survive no matter whom they had to kill to do it; it’s no different from handing over their own comrades on a silver platter. I cannot fathom why we should choose to spare them or show them any mercy.”

I pursed my lips and said nothing. The breeze swept through once again, blowing away the sweet, warm scent hanging in the air.

After the silence dragged on for a few long moments, Cain asked more gently, “You’ve killed so many people by now, yet you’re still afraid?”

I stared straight back into his eyes. I never would have imagined that Cain, who was always so kind, would say something like that to me.

Sensing my discomposure, he reached a hand toward me like the gesture was second nature to him. He trailed his fingers down my cheek until his large hand finally settled around my neck.

While I was preoccupied with the hand at my throat, Cain drew his face close to mine. “Don’t worry; there’s nothing to be afraid of. All you’re doing is saving the people of Farzia. For every enemy you fight and kill, you’re releasing our people—the weak ones who can do nothing but run about in the face of an invasion—from their suffering.”

His stare was so intense that I almost had to avert my gaze. There was something frightening about the way his words and his gaze permeated me to my core, like he was placing some kind of curse on me. But why? I had always been so sure Cain would never hurt me.

“Everyone will be very grateful. They’ll extol you for saving them... for delivering them. Just tell yourself that you’re fighting to hear those words at the end of it all. In the meantime, I’ll support you—faint of heart as you are.”

“You think... I’m faint-hearted?”

Cain wanted me to go straight for my enemies’ throats, just like Game-Alan would have. If I was going to head into battle and kill people, maybe that was the most honorable way to go about it.

“Am I... weak, you think?”

“Isn’t that why you always felt you needed an accomplice?” Cain responded in a soothing tone.

Maybe he’s right, I thought. At the same time, I found myself wondering, How would Isaac have answered my question?

Perhaps he would brusquely tell me that there was no use hesitating to eliminate my enemies. But I had the feeling that, in the end, he would tell me it was alright to be weak.

Before I knew it, I had gotten so lost in thought that I had averted my gaze from Cain. When I turned my head back toward him, I was surprised to find his face had drawn even closer. I jerked my head back out of reflex. No sooner had he grabbed my jaw to hold me in place than he left a soft, lingering sensation on my cheek and pulled away.

“Uh, wha...?!”

What?! Don’t tell me he just kissed me on the cheek AGAIN!

The man in question appeared neither contrite nor embarrassed. “You overreact, Miss Kiara. That was the second time now. Or is the issue that it bothers you?”

“Um! I-I wouldn’t say... it bothers me...”

I wasn’t turned off or anything. I was shocked to my core, though. Thinking back on it, it had been a surprise attack the last time he’d done it, too. Yet I never felt the same revulsion I’d felt toward the marquis’ relative the previous night. Why was that?

“I’m glad to hear it,” Cain said, giving me a small smile. “Last time, it was a token of my gratitude. This time, it was evidence of my oath.”

If he was making an oath, I couldn’t very well ask him to stop.

While all sorts of thoughts rolled around in my head, I unconsciously took a step back from Cain and dropped my gaze to the floor. Right then, I noticed that the sand in the hourglass I’d turned had finished trickling to the bottom.

I had my stone golems take the molds out of the furnace.

“Okay, let’s see how they’re coming along! Oh, looking good. They may have baked a bit unevenly, but it looks like they’re cooked the whole way through. I don’t think anyone will get a stomachache from eating them, at least.”

Fortunately, the cakes had baked nicely, so I focused my energy there instead.

After my stone golems had taken the cakes out of their molds, I pinched off an edge of a cake to make sure it was done. Yep, seems fine.

As thanks for helping me, I cut off a corner piece of the same cake and offered it to Cain. I thought it was a good idea to have him taste it before anyone else, plus it seemed like a good way to sweep everything that had just happened under the rug.

“Will you taste test it for me?”

Cain blinked at the offer, but he graciously accepted and took a bite. Then he muttered, “Women always love doing things like this, don’t they?”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“I was just a bit surprised. My mother always asked me to sample her cooking, too,” he said, apparently willing to drop the previous conversation.

Whew. That’s a relief.

After all... maybe it hadn’t bothered me, but something about it didn’t feel quite right.

◇◇◇

I asked Cain to make sure that Alan left some time in his schedule after dinner and saved enough room for dessert. Meanwhile, I tapped Reggie and his knights. I figured that a tea time surrounded by the people closest to him would be the greatest gift I could give Alan.

I managed to gather Cain, Reggie, and Groul, and myself, plus Alan’s knights and the cavalry general and garrison commander who had marched from Évrard with us. Finally, there was Gina, Girsch, and what was bound to make Alan happiest of all: the frostfoxes.

“Happy birthday! Lady Évrard sent you this,” I said as I served the cake.

Since he was the birthday boy, I piled cake slices onto a platter just for Alan. Altogether, I think he had an entire loaf’s worth stacked on there. Knowing Alan, he could devour every last crumb without so much as breaking a sweat.

Normally, he only enjoyed cake in moderation—perhaps out of a belief that men weren’t supposed to eat that many sweets. But if the slices were already stacked for him, it only made sense for him to clean his plate.

Of course, it would have been a bit too plain to serve it as-is. Inspired by memories of my past life, I had iced the cake with a bit of whipped cream and turned it into a proper party cake.

When he took the platter, Alan looked deeply touched.

“Her Ladyship did this for me...? Wait, she didn’t have this sent all the way from Évrard, did she?”

“Of course not. She just sent me the money for it. She told me to go buy something sweet for you, and seeing as it’s your birthday and all, I figured I might as well bake you a cake.”

“You made this?! Is it really safe to eat?”

Alan suddenly looked suspicious. I got why he was worried, but considering this was someone else’s gift we were talking about, I wouldn’t have tried my hand at it if I wasn’t sure I could do it. I would feel like a complete fool if I messed it up.

“I had Sir Cain try it for me! It’s fine. If it was undercooked enough to make someone sick, he would be in his room writhing in agony right about now.”

Cain gave a grim smile. When Alan glanced over at the knight and saw that he was in perfect health, he finally seemed to relax. He brought a forkful of cake to his mouth. Then, with a faint flush on his features, he said, “Hm, it’s not terrible... Thank you, I suppose.”

He didn’t come out and say it, exactly, but it seemed the cake was to his tastes.

“Seventeen, hm? Congratulations on finally catching up to me,” Reggie said. Following that, everyone else at the table offered their own birthday wishes. Alan happily accepted their congratulations and continued to feast on his cake, still a little red in the face.

The rest of us pecked away at the cake slices that had been served onto our own plates. All five loaves were gone in no time.

After we were done eating, I had one more present for Alan: I had asked Gina ahead of time to get her frostfoxes to snuggle up to him. Being the dog-lover he was, Alan might have enjoyed that even more than the cake.

And with that, my Alan Birthday Mission turned out to be a big success. Later, I sent off a “report of completion” to Lady Évrard.

◇◇◇

We returned to Cassia later that summer, and eventually, September rolled around. Around the same time, Lord Azure’s and Lord Enister’s reinforcements arrived. Each had brought about 4,000 men with him.

We decided not to meet up with them inside the castle, however; we received them just outside the town gates. I stood next to Reggie. It was our first time meeting, so we had to make sure they would remember who I was. Cain, Gina, and Girsch stood behind us.

Gina was there for a similar reason. She had shown up to broadcast that she was a member of our army—you know, so that they wouldn’t mistakenly put down her frostfoxes.

The other people there were Alan, Edam, Jerome, and their respective knight-guards. All told, our numbers came out close to fifty.

Down the high road, plenty wide enough for carriages to pass side by side, countless figures were making their way toward us. As I squinted in the glare of the sunlight reflected off their spears and shields, we waited for them to reach us.

Eventually, their vanguard came to a stop within a few hundred mers of us. Over a dozen men on horseback trotted ahead of the pack to greet us.

“Cover your ears, Kiara.”

“What?”

I gave a puzzled tilt of my head, but I did as Reggie had instructed. I noticed Alan doing the same thing. Even Groul and Edam were following suit, wearing all-knowing looks on their faces.

What’s going on? I wondered, before one of the approaching riders bellowed in an insanely loud voice, “IT’S GOOD TO SEE YOU AGAIN, YOUR HIGHNESS!”

“Agh!”

Did we have loudspeakers in this world, after all? That was the only rational explanation for the volume of his voice, which came through loud and clear even with my hands over my ears.

The owner of the voice was a plump, middle-aged man mounted on horseback, wearing a cape and chain mail. If you put him in a tailcoat, he would have been the spitting image of a stereotypical opera singer.

The man drew closer, innocently humming and waving a hand. Once he was right near us, he dismounted his horse.

Reggie finally took his hands off his ears and greeted him. “You seem well, Marquis.”

Lord Azure bowed, bending down on one knee. “Niven Azure, at your service. I am truly delighted to see you well, Your Highness. When I heard you were in Évrard during the initial invasion, I was beside myself with worry.”

Evidently, he conversed at a perfectly normal volume. Relieved, I followed suit and lowered my hands.

That aside, this man had never made an appearance in the original RPG. Now, the name Azure, I did recognize. It was a territory south of Llewyne, bordering Erendor. If I remembered correctly, the region was full of people who loved music, and from there, a band of characters known for their humming had come along to join up with Alan... or something.

While I was jogging my memory, Reggie and Lord Azure finished up their conversation. Then, the marquis turned his gaze toward me with a broad smile. “My, what a sweet young lady. I suppose my incredible set of pipes took you by surprise, hm?”

“Oh, erm... A little bit, yes!” I answered honestly before I could stop myself.

Fortunately for me, Lord Azure didn’t seem particularly offended. “Azure is a mountainous region. There are many in the business of grazing livestock, and one of our customs is to hum pastoral songs to inform each other of our whereabouts. Somewhere down the line, that ‘humming’ turned into ‘belting.’ We trained our voices, and at some point, the neighboring provinces began to refer to us as the ‘Singing Azures.’ This voice of mine is the pride of my territory!” The further he went into his story, the louder his voice reverberated.

From what I learned later on, we had received noise complaints from Erendor, specifying that they did not want to work alongside Azure. The last time they’d fought together, Erendor’s forces had been put through the wringer. Thus, Lord Azure’s men had been dispatched to us, even though it would have been quicker for them to rush to Évrard as backup.

Lord Azure had been absolutely beaming when Lord Évrard had told him, “I ask that you defend His Highness for us.” The poor guy had no clue that he’d just been pawned off on Reggie.

After finally wrapping up his history lesson, the marquis asked Reggie about me. “Who is she, Your Highness?”

“This is our spellcaster, Lady Kiara.”

“Oho! So this is the spellcaster I’ve heard so much about. Hm... Are you quite sure you can hold your own in terms of physical strength? And volume?”

He’d asked me that with a completely straight face, but I was pretty sure projecting my voice wasn’t a skill I actually needed. Of course, I couldn’t come out and say that. While I struggled for a response, the quivering voice of an old man cut in with, “You’re loud enough for everyone here.”

I looked down to make sure it wasn’t Master Horace, hanging at my waist. After glancing around the area, I mumbled to myself, “Is that... a goat?”

What I saw appeared to be a hermit straddling a huge goat the size of a horse. Okay, it was definitely smaller than a horse, but still. It had been hidden behind the rest of the horses, so I hadn’t noticed the goat in the group until now.

And the moment I saw the goat, memories came flooding back to me.

“Oh!” I clamped a hand over my mouth before I could scream, trembling with excitement.

Ohmigod, it’s Grandpa Cane in the flesh! He’s really riding a goat! He’s sporting his long, white beard! Unlike Master Horace, he hasn’t gone bald yet!

This wasn’t how he had joined the party in the RPG. After Cassia, Alan had gone on a quest to gather more allies, during which he had paid a visit to this count here—Lord Faden Enister—and sought his cooperation.

At sixty-five years old, Lord Enister was the oldest of the party members, and his weapon of choice was a cane. And wouldn’t you know it—he still packed a surprisingly high attack stat. Talk about one heck of an old man. Thus, I had nicknamed him “Grandpa Cane.”

“You could afford to quiet down a little. Why make such a racket when everyone can hear you just fine? Sheesh, I’ve been waiting so long for my earache to subside that I missed my chance to greet His Highness.”

Lord Enister dismounted his goat, complaining and griping all the while. He was clad in nothing more than a pale-gray, long-sleeved military uniform befitting a hermit. When he stood next to Lord Azure, who was decked out in full chain mail, his paper-thin defenses were a little troubling to see.

“You mustn’t push yourself,” Lord Azure advised, concerned.

“I can manage this much without help,” Lord Enister snapped back, full of bravado. “Faden Enister, at your service. I am honored to be of aid to His Highness, all to defend our kingdom of Farzia.” He dropped down to one knee.

Reggie smiled and nodded. “I’m glad you could make it. You have my thanks.”

In addition to the soldiers serving under them, the two noblemen were accompanied by a familiar face. The last time I had seen the brown-haired boy, he had been disguised as a merchant’s son, but there was no longer any need for him to dress that way. He was wearing an outfit arranged for him in Limerick, the province to which he had been evacuated—a black jacket embroidered with green (a sign of nobility), a white shirt, and a cravat tied around his neck.

It was Charles, the surviving son of Lord Cassia. I pursed my lips, his gentle features tugging at my heartstrings.

He was returning home to his castle now that it had been recovered by the Farzian army. I had been informed that Edam, who was to stay behind in Cassia, was responsible for looking after him until the end of the war.

Young Charles offered Reggie a greeting. After returning to the castle with everyone else, he went to go visit his parents’ and sister’s graves.

The cemetery was on the western side of Cassia Castle. A grave for the baron’s family had been erected in a small garden.

The corpses of the baron and his wife had been unceremoniously tossed into the same hole as the rest of their murdered retainers, so apparently, it had been quite a struggle to find their bodies. Flora’s remains were right under the window she had fallen from, so although she had dissolved into sand, they had managed to recover what was left of her.

Surely poor Charles had seen his fair share of gruesome sights during his flight from the castle. He didn’t fall to pieces even as he stood before his family’s graves. Tears just quietly slid down his face, as though it was finally sinking in that they were really gone. Aubrey held Charles close, bawling his eyes out.

Moving forward, I was bound to see plenty of similar scenes. If any of those future victims were Farzian nobles who had double-crossed us, it was doubtful anyone would even build a grave for them.

As I watched Charles cry from a distance, reflecting on the weight of events to come, all I could do was clench my hands into fists.