Part 1: A Royal Audience and the Gathering of the War Council

A few days had passed since Arcus discovered and suppressed Porque Nadar’s agents and joined with Louise Rustinell to save Prince Ceylan. Having allowed Eido his escape, Arcus returned to Rustinell’s capital temporarily to ponder his next moves. While they were there, Noah, Cazzy, and Arcus received a message.

After he and Louise had parted ways, she and her soldiers broke through roadblocks in Nadar to follow the prince’s footsteps. As for the prince, he had taken a different route to enter the county and was staying in the first town he’d come across, where he met up with Louise and her soldiers. She filled him in on the recent string of incidents, after which he returned safely to Rustinell.

There was no pursuit from Nadar, nor any attack by the count’s bandit proxies in other territories. While Louise had originally steeled herself for a fight as they retreated, everything ended without incident. Porque Nadar’s attack on Ceylan did not come to fruition, and for the moment Arcus allowed himself a sigh of relief.

But it wasn’t over yet. After returning to Rustinell, Ceylan had moved to the fortress city of Nalvarond and called the nearby lords to help subjugate Porque with extreme prejudice. A proclamation was issued to the western nobles outlining the order’s rationales. The prince gathered military power from the nobles, monarchs, and minor lords occupying western Lainur in order to put together an army. The prince’s actions were so rapid and decisive that they even had his allies’ heads spinning, let alone Nadar’s.

Meanwhile, Porque was gathering his own army, and had made a declaration of war against the royal family. In his position, that meant revolt. His army was made up of his subordinates, active and conscripted soldiers, and various hired mercenary groups. They numbered four thousand, and were already marching toward Rustinell.

Arcus had expected the Gillis Empire, which lay behind Nadar, to launch an invasion too, but they seemed to be biding their time. Perhaps any military movements on their part were too small to be observed as of yet—but it was difficult to know.

This whole thing sure has blown up.

That was the summation of Arcus’s current thoughts on the matter. Although he was aware he was probably thinking too hard about it, he couldn’t help feeling like his tiny actions had sparked an all-out war. He knew this would’ve likely happened eventually anyway, but he still felt slightly queasy about it all.

“I would never imagine one seemingly insignificant action could lead to an entire civil war. You are like the puppeteer manipulating the strings behind the kingdom, Master Arcus.”

“Shut it.”

“If ya really wanna make it big in the underworld, ya can’t be runnin’ ’round with a cute li’l face like that. I know where ya can buy a mask if ya want.”

“Shut it.”

Despite how he felt, his attendants had no qualms teasing him about the entire ordeal.

A few days had passed since Prince Ceylan’s proclamation against Porque Nadar. Louise had called Arcus and his servants to Nalvarond; they made the journey alongside Deet. As promised in the warehouse district, Louise had informed the prince of Arcus’s involvement in everything.

Ceylan wished to thank Arcus personally, so the young magician now waited quietly in a temporary audience room. With him were nobles who had come to greet the prince.

At the end of the room sat a majestic throne atop a podium of stairs. A canopy adorned the throne, different from the interior design of the rest of the room. It must have been prepared specially for Ceylan. It seemed to hold a symbolic message: that royalty should rarely be seen. Three bamboo screens, one at the front and two at the sides, hung from the top of the canopy; it reminded Arcus of the ancient Chinese thrones he’d seen from movies in the man’s world.

Ceylan Crosellode, Lainur’s next king, was behind those screens now. He wore a long white robe embroidered with dragons in golden thread; there was a slit from the hip down for ease of movement, and its sleeves were wide.

Arcus was curious to see the prince’s face, but he wore a black veil, making it hard even to tell whether his features were masculine or feminine. It was a custom for Lainur’s princes to wear such a veil in public until they were of age, so only the royal family and those closest to them knew what he looked like.

Ceylan was supposed to be around the same age as Arcus, but he already looked completely comfortable in his post. Most children put in an authoritative position were timid, but Ceylan showed none of that. He was silent and, above all else, looked totally relaxed, as though his sitting there was the most normal thing in the world. He exuded a powerful, almost indescribable air of rulership.

In this world, there were none more powerful in the major nations than their royal families. In the man’s world, monarchies were usually an extension of the government. Here, their rule was as absolute as that of gods. It was said that those with royal blood held power far beyond human understanding. It was that power and knowledge that made them revered.

Ceylan sat atop the podium while his attendants waited at the bottom of the steps. As a regional monarch, Louise Rustinell held a special status compared to the other nobles. She and her son Deet waited with the prince’s guard by those steps.

The nobles of the west and those serving under Louise took a knee before the podium, introducing themselves and greeting the prince one by one.

“I am a retainer of Rustinell House, Galanger Uiha. I have come here with Lady Rustinell, and it is my heartfelt desire to be of assistance to Your Royal Highness.”

“I am Rover Ronell of the Ronell Barony. I have come as requested, Your Royal Highness.”

“Pistoris Sharman of Sharman County. It is an absolute pleasure. I shall pour everything I have into fighting for Your Royal Highness.”

And so it went.

It seemed not all of Lainur’s western nobles were in attendance. Forty-four had answered the prince’s call, all of varying ranks, and Louise Rustinell was the only monarch. Every lord had their troops in tow.

Ceylan’s responses to the lords were short. “Fight well.” “I have high hopes.” His tone was cold, as though he were indifferent to each lord’s individual presence.

Lainur was one of the major powers in this world, and therefore the prince’s authority was great. He must have been taking such a steadfast attitude to ensure nobody looked down on him.

Once the nobles had finished their greetings, it was finally Arcus’s turn.

“Arcus Raytheft! You may step forward to address His Royal Highness.”

Arcus felt his body stiffen.

Noah leaned over to whisper in his ear. “Steel your nerves, Master Arcus.”

“Don’t you mean ‘relax’?”

“Actually, being slightly nervous is a good thing in this case. Being overly relaxed might give the impression that you hold His Royal Highness in contempt. Play into those nerves, and act afraid.”

“I get you.”

“Allow me to run through this once more. You may only raise your head the second time you are granted permission. When you have given your greeting, lower your head, keep your response to His Royal Highness’s words short, and do not, under any circumstances, respond negatively.”

“Got it. Thanks.”

Arcus stepped forward and kept his head low to avoid looking directly at the prince, as formality dictated. Even though the prince’s presence and Arcus’s opportunity to speak with him directly was a privilege, he couldn’t help thinking that all these ancient formalities were more annoying than anything else. As Arcus approached the prince, he heard voices whispering.

“What is a child doing here?”

“I have heard the rumors. I believe his name is...”

“What is the meaning of this?”

Suspicious gazes accompanied those scattered questions. Arcus had more important things to focus on than how awkward they made him feel, however. He took another step forward.

What’s this?

All of a sudden, an overwhelming tension ran through him, and his body froze up completely. He realized immediately that it was the air of authority that Ceylan exuded; it was on a totally different level from the pressure he felt in the presence of state magicians. Arcus’s hands were sweating, and it felt like his blood was freezing in his veins. Numbing electricity seemed to run along his skin. The same terrifying sensation swept through his body each time he tried to move. It was like somebody was holding the point of a sword to the back of his neck, and he was almost gasping for breath.

“Arcus Raytheft. Raise your head.”

Arcus waited for Ceylan’s attendant to repeat the order before obeying. His eyes fixed on the prince. Even at this distance, Arcus could discern nothing beneath his veil. For a moment, there was silence—and then the prince spoke.

“Arcus Raytheft, I presume?”

“I-It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Royal Highness. I am Arcus Raytheft, eldest son of House Raytheft. I am humbled to have been called here by Your Royal Highness on this day.”

Arcus bowed his head and waited. Ceylan did not respond to his greeting immediately. Arcus started to worry he’d messed up somehow. Though the veil obscured his view, he had the sense the prince was scrutinizing him. The longer the silence continued, the more anxious Arcus became, until at last Ceylan exhaled.

“Arcus Raytheft. Your deeds concerning this recent matter were remarkable. Were it not for the fact that you detected Porque Nadar’s wicked scheme so quickly, perhaps I would not be sitting here now. You have my heartfelt gratitude.”

The whisperings in the room grew more fervent. While it wasn’t unheard of for people to be praised by their rulers, being thanked directly was exceedingly rare. It was that and the idea of Arcus aiding the prince in the first place that had the attendants talking. Only after the noise had settled down did Arcus speak again.

“As a servant of the crown, I believe it is only right to aid Your Royal Highness in whatever way I can. As such, while undeserving, I am utterly humbled by Your Royal Highness’s praise.”

“A servant of the crown... Yes. The awareness you show of your position at such a young age is nothing short of admirable. As your superior, that gives me great joy.”

“Sir.” Arcus bowed his head again.

He never thought the prince would speak so highly of him. He was only expecting a brief acknowledgment, and yet here the prince was thanking and praising him—not to mention Ceylan seemed to be taking on a gentler tone with him compared to the other nobles. It was enough to make him feel self-conscious.

“Now, Arcus Raytheft. I shall allow you to accompany me in the upcoming battle. You will fight by my side.”

“Huh?”

Ceylan’s words didn’t register at first. Only when their echoes had permeated his mind did Arcus understand.

I shall allow you to accompany me in the upcoming battle.

The prince was telling him to fight in the battle to subjugate Nadar, but as far as Arcus knew, he had been called to receive a brief commendation. He had been planning to finish up his silver talks with Louise and take his newfound supplies back to the capital. Ceylan apparently had other ideas about his intentions. Arcus glanced at Louise. The monarch of Rustinell looked just as surprised as he was (while her son pumped an excited fist in the air). Arcus was clearly taking too long to respond, as there was a hint of ice in Ceylan’s voice when he next spoke.

“Well? Has something displeased you?”

“No, Your Royal Highness! Far from it!”

“Good. I trust you will fight well in the upcoming battle.”

“Yes, Your Royal Highness!” Arcus found himself agreeing.

Ugh...

There was no backing out now. Refusing Ceylan’s order would give the message that he either didn’t want to fight alongside the prince, or that he was against the plan to bring Nadar under control in the first place. All he really wanted was to avoid getting involved, and yet he effectively had no choice.

What have I done?

It was the way of this world. So long as Arcus sought status here, this was something that was bound to happen eventually. That was why he had planned to polish his magic to perfection and improve himself as far as his abilities would allow, but he never expected the time to come so soon.

Those were the thoughts plaguing Arcus’s mind as he waited to be dismissed—but it was not Ceylan’s attendant who spoke next.

“Your Royal Highness! Might I be granted permission to speak?” One of the lords stepped forward and lowered his head before the prince.

He looked to be in his thirties. His face was unshaven and deeply browned from the sun; his physique suggested his house was a martial one.

“Count Bowe!” Ceylan’s attendant snapped. “His Royal Highness is still conversing with Arcus Raytheft! Step down!”

“I am aware, and yet I beg your permission to speak. Please.” The count stood his ground.

The attendant’s eyes narrowed, but Ceylan interrupted him before he could say anything else.

“You are Count Daws Bowe, yes?”

“Sir!”

“I am speaking with Arcus now. What is so important that you see fit to barge in on our conversation?”

“Sir. I humbly beg your forgiveness for so rudely interrupting. However, as a loyal vassal to the crown, I believe I have a duty to say something. Please...I beg your permission to speak.”

The prince’s guards began to stir, preparing to have Count Bowe step down by force. Ceylan raised a hand to stop them.

“Very well. Speak.”

“With all due respect, sir, this young noble is still a child. While I cannot attest to his abilities during peacetime, I cannot believe he is fit to stand by Your Royal Highness’s side in the midst of battle. It would deal a great blow to the entire kingdom if anything were to happen to you, sir, because of that. This is something I cannot overlook. If I may ask Your Royal Highness to reconsider...”

The count wasn’t speaking out of concern for Arcus’s safety, but for the prince choosing to surround himself with inadequate protectors. He can’t have been the only one to think so; whispers were rippling through the other lords at his words.

“Asking a child to protect oneself on the battlefield is... Well...”

“Arcus Raytheft was that disinherited boy, wasn’t he?”

“Yes! Quite unfit to stand by His Royal Highness’s side.”

Everybody seemed to doubt Arcus’s abilities, and it was because they’d all heard the rumors already. One glare from Ceylan’s attendant was enough to bring those whisperings to an immediate halt.

“Count Bowe. It is not unprecedented for one so young to be blessed with great ability—myself and the son of House Rustinell, for example. Furthermore, I have heard that Arcus Raytheft gave his assistance in the suppression of Nadar’s agents, as well as chasing off those who would cause me harm. Only somebody with great power would be capable of such feats.”

“Sir! I agree that there are young citizens of Lainur who have been graced with exceptional talent. However, there are very few of them, even among the upper noble classes. This boy is the son of a low-ranking family. While I cannot say this with absolute certainty, I believe the chances that he is one of those talented few to be extremely low.” Count Bowe turned to Arcus and curled the corner of his lip into a sneer. It seemed to say that the idea of Arcus fighting alongside the prince was laughable, that he didn’t belong here.

Creep.

The audacity of Bowe’s words made Arcus’s skin prickle with anger. Even if he didn’t want to go to war, he didn’t want to be made out as a weakling either. Yet Arcus was not permitted to say a single word in his defense. He was dealing with a count, and didn’t have the status to openly disagree with him. All Arcus could do was grind his teeth as the count kept talking.

“How can we even be sure that the stories we’ve heard of this boy’s involvement in the storming of the warehouse are true? I cannot help but be doubtful.”

“Huh?” This time it was Louise who spoke. “Are you suggesting my men were just seeing things?”

“Y-Yes. To put it bluntly, that is exactly what I am suggesting.”

“Hmph. Bold words for a lowly count.”

The count’s expression hardened—but his frown lasted only a moment before he spread his arms out dramatically and began to speak, his words deliberate. “Lady Louise. I know Your Ladyship is a monarch with a large territory, but I am a noble of the kingdom. Referring to me as a ‘lowly count’ is a little ironic, is it not? The title of ‘count’ is a prestigious one, granted to those families who have served the crown and the kingdom tirelessly. If Your Ladyship would be so kind as to take back her earlier remark—”

“What?!” Louise spat.

Count Bowe let out a squawk like a strangled goose and began to heave with frightened sobs. He may have been a man blessed with a powerful martial family, but right now he looked like nothing more than a frightened rodent.

Taking the count’s squeal as a sign, Louise’s retainers faced him and stood tall, letting the powerful military air around them become oppressive. The count’s face drained of color as they stood before him, their hostility on full display.

Louise raised her voice, adding more salt to the wound. “Do not make light of me, noble. Got it?!”

Ferocious anger rolled off her in waves, filling the hall. Seized with fear, the count gulped visibly. Just having a count’s title didn’t guarantee strength of character, it seemed. Charlotte’s father, Purce Cremelia, was also a count, but comparing him to Bowe was like comparing chalk and cheese.

Louise’s display of anger had destabilized the atmosphere in the room. Only a few of the nobles still looked calm; the others were trembling just as Count Bowe was.

“Louise,” Ceylan said. “Restrain yourself.”

“Sir. I beg Your Royal Highness’s forgiveness.” Louise took a step back.

Count Bowe, on the other hand, apparently still felt the need to speak. “Sir, I have heard that this boy was disinherited. A foolish boy who cannot retain his birthright has no place by Your Royal Highness’s side. I cannot believe I am the only one to hold such an opinion.”

“Hmm.”

“If Your Royal Highness still wishes for somebody’s accompaniment, might I suggest somebody else? Myself, in fact, if I may be so bold. I have a long and distinguished history of military service; I believe I am an adequate fit for the role.”

That seemed to be his intention right from the start, and it was utterly shameless. The other nobles agreed, as they raised their voices in protest.

“I understand your point of view, Count Bowe.”

“Sir! Does that mean...” The hope was obvious in Bowe’s voice.

“Yes.”

Bowe’s face visibly lit up at the thought of serving by the prince’s side, while Louise’s expression darkened equally. The other nobles also grumbled their dissatisfaction at being outsped.

The count’s jubilation was not to last.

“I understand perfectly,” Ceylan continued. “You doubt my judgment.”

“I—What?”

“Am I wrong? I have selected Arcus to serve by my side, as I have judged him worthy to do so. By objecting to my decision, you are implying that I have chosen poorly,” Ceylan explained lightly.

Personally, Arcus thought the prince’s impression of Bowe’s objection was a result of reading too much into it.

“I am aware that this is my first time going into battle,” Ceylan said. “However, I never thought that my closest allies in this fight—that is, the high nobles—would dare be so direct with me. You do not see the problem in voicing your criticisms of my judgment, and by extension, my plans to subjugate Nadar, in front of everybody here? Heh. It is difficult to imagine a more open rejection of one’s prince.”

Ceylan’s words fell halfway between a murmur to himself and a declaration he wished for everybody to hear. Hearing the tone of accusation creeping into his voice, the royal guard immediately prepared to move. It was only natural. No imperial guard would let an affront against their prince slip. It was the very same way Louise’s retainers had reacted, but with an extra layer of threat, which caused Bowe to panic.

“No, sir! That was not the intention behind my words at all!”

“Really? Because that is precisely how they sounded to me.”

“I am sure, sir! That was not what I intended at all! I merely doubted the suitability of this boy to serve Your Royal Highness!” Count Bowe bowed his head desperately.

Arcus doubted the count had put enough initial thought into his greedy proposition to realize how his words might be interpreted, but he was certainly realizing it now. It just went to show that raising too careless an objection to a royal’s word was equal to criticizing them, as Arcus suspected. What this conversation proved more than anything else was the count’s inability to understand what Ceylan was thinking. Clearly the decision to have Arcus by his side was one borne of the prince’s personal judgment. Yet if Ceylan went on to accept the count’s suggestion and change his mind, he would likely be seen as indecisive and lose face in the eyes of the attending lords. Simply accepting a suggestion made to him would set a bad example as these people’s leader.

Ceylan began to chuckle. It was a sinister sound. The lords in the room began to shift uncomfortably.

“I do understand where you are coming from, Count. This will be my first campaign on the battlefield. A weathered veteran such as yourself would no doubt be able to see the aspects in which I am inexperienced.”

“N-No, sir, I wasn’t...” The count struggled to defend himself, but it was already clear that Ceylan had firmly decided that Bowe was criticizing him; he wasn’t going to listen to any excuses at this point.

Ceylan kept on chuckling. With even the other lords in the room feeling threatened, there was only one thing left for Bowe to do.

“Please, Your Royal Highness! Please allow me to retract my thoughtless remark!”

“Heh. Very well. Stand down, Count.”

“Sir...” Bowe stayed motionless and gaped at the prince.

“Count Bowe!” Ceylan’s attendant snapped. “How long do you plan on staying there?! His Royal Highness has asked you to step down!”

“So sorry, sir!” Bowe hurriedly fled backward.

Ceylan seemed unable to shake free of his fit of laughter. The very sight of it sent chills down Arcus’s spine. It increased in volume, forcing the rest of the hall’s sounds into deathly silence. As the lords developed a collective sheen of cold sweat, Ceylan finally stopped laughing and sprang to his feet.

“Listen well!” he cried from atop the podium. “I shall not change my mind! I have the same gifts as my father, Shinlu Crosellode! The gift of perfect foresight, and the gift of leadership over all of you, and I shall prove that to you in this upcoming battle! You shall learn that I do not make mistakes!”

The gathered lords fell to their knees at once to show their support for the prince’s words. Ceylan turned to face Arcus and pointed his sheathed sword at him.

“Arcus!”

“Sir!”

“You shall play an active role in this war. Make sure you do not give anybody reason to question my judgment.”

“Yes, Your Royal Highness!” Arcus gave a hearty response; he had no other choice, after all.

If he refused, he’d probably have more to worry about than being beheaded. He was duty-bound to comply, and those were weighty shackles indeed. Getting involved in a war was bad enough, but thanks to Count Cretin, he now had to worry about protecting the prince’s honor on top of that.

The attendant finally gave the order to stand down. There was only one question that he had the wherewithal to ask himself:

Why?

He returned to Noah’s side, where the servant greeted him with a smile.

“Congratulations.”

Arcus barely suppressed the urge to wrap his fingers around Noah’s neck.

When the audience with Ceylan was over, a rough count of the soldiers in Nalvarond was held. The lords, regional monarchs, and their vassals had five thousand together, while Ceylan had brought with him fifty imperial knights. While conscripting citizens from the local area would have bolstered their numbers, that was deemed unnecessary for now, as reinforcements were expected from central Lainur. There were enough soldiers for now, and the prince had the powerful and renowned Rustinell and its vassals on side. Nadar’s army, on the other hand...

“Mom, Nadar said they had fifteen thousand.”

“Three times as many as us. Like we’re gonna believe that.”

“Yeah. There’s no way his numbers are that big.”

“I agree. If none of the surrounding nobles are supporting him, his only option would be hiring mercenaries, and hiring that many of them just isn’t possible.”

Arcus knew of cases in the man’s world where demonstrators would exaggerate their numbers by more than ten times the real figures, and that seemed to be similar to what was happening here. The difference was that in the man’s world, information filtered through to the public through television and radio. If a media outlet said, for example, that there was a certain number of protestors at a demonstration, the majority of the public would believe it without question, as they had no other choice.

If the soldiers believed they really were dealing with fifteen thousand enemy troops, they would become anxious. If this side didn’t know the enemy’s true numbers, their plan of attack was liable to have holes. In this world, it was difficult to gauge such things for sure. Even a simple exchange of bluffs like this was important to one’s strategy.

“I can’t wait to fight.”

“Yes, it’s been a while.”

The same savage, bloodthirsty grin appeared on the faces of mother and son. Arcus doubted they were really concerned with the number of opponents they were up against.

Imagine smiling while talking about stuff like this. That’s kinda terrifying...

The way they spoke so casually with their vassals with clear, confident voices made Arcus think they’d still be smiling even if they believed Nadar was telling the truth about his numbers.

One thing that struck Arcus as odd was that a single state magician had joined their numbers. His black hair was short and even, and that was just the start of the black outfit that covered him from head to toe. His clothes were completely unembellished—far too plain for a man who was supposed to belong to nobility. It was difficult, too, to discern his age at first glance.

He was Roheim Langula, who took the nickname “Waterwheel,” and Arcus remembered him well as the magician to ask the most pertinent questions at the aethometer’s unveiling. The Langula House had a history of instructing the royal children in magic, which would explain why he was here now—he was obliged to keep an eye on the prince’s affairs.

Arcus ran into him immediately after the audience with Ceylan.

“I believe this is our first meeting since the presentation at the Magician’s Guild.”

“Yes, My Lord. I am incredibly grateful for everything Your Lordship has done for me.”

“On the contrary, I owe you a great deal. Thanks to you, I have been able to rework and improve upon my spells, and teach some on to His Royal Highness with very little trouble. I should be thanking you.”

“As a magician, I am glad to have been of service.”

Unfortunately Roheim had other matters to attend to, and could not give Arcus much more of his time than that.

The war council had gathered in the war room in Nalvarond’s castle. A square table stood in the middle of that room and seated the various leading nobles and feudal lords. Ceylan sat a short distance from the table. Next to him stood Eulid Rain, the young prodigy who commanded the imperial guard, and the third state magician, Roheim Langula. Louise Rustinell, the next highest-ranking person present, was stationed near the prince.

Everyone in this room would command troops during the upcoming battle—and for some reason, Arcus found himself among them. As he wasn’t of a rank to be commanding anyone himself, he wasn’t allowed to sit, but instead stood with Noah to watch next to Deet, who was also here to observe, but had a seat of his own.

As for Cazzy, he had decided of his own volition to skip the proceedings, citing them as a “pain in the ass.” Arcus took that to mean he would feel out of place, and so he let Cazzy go off and find some other useful work to get on with.

Rather than that, Arcus was curious as to why he was being given special treatment. Deet, he could understand; he was Louise’s son, after all. However, while Arcus had assisted in the prince’s escape from Nadar, he was the son of a low-ranking noble on top of being disinherited. Being asked to stay by the prince’s side during the upcoming fight was already extraordinary in itself, but being allowed to listen in on a war council meeting should have been far above his position. However, Ceylan had told him to sit in, and so he had no choice, and he couldn’t help but feel awkward and out of place.

Ceylan, meanwhile, listened calmly to the meeting and occasionally raised an objection or voted on the lords’ ideas. Now and then he would ask for clarification on the meaning behind certain ideas, but other than that he didn’t speak up unless necessary. All in all, he was doing a good job of leading the council.

Maybe they have that rule in place here that the leaders aren’t supposed to get too involved in the actual plans behind military matters...

It was an idea Arcus knew from the most famous book on war from the man’s world. According to that book, in order for a campaign to be successful, the details of the military tactics were to be decided by the generals, with rulers kept at a safe distance from the executive process.

Suppose a monarch did get actively involved in a war council meeting. Because of their rank, their word would take precedence over the generals, and if they commented on every last thing, it would cause friction. Monarchs generally also had little knowledge of warfare, and so any plans they came up with had a disproportionate failure rate.

The Crosellode House, however, used to be a martial one on the same level as the Rustinell lords. As long as Ceylan had a solid education in military matters, then his objections would be heeded without discontent, and he wouldn’t suggest anything that guaranteed failure. As such, Arcus had the impression that his keeping quiet was more so that the meeting could continue running smoothly.

“How likely is it that the Empire will take advantage of this situation to send in troops?”

“I don’t believe there’s any risk of that. The Empire is already involved in two separate conflicts. I would wager they don’t have the people or the resources to burden themselves with another.”

“And what are Nadar’s real numbers? So far, we’ve heard they’re less than ours.”

“Is that right?”

“I believe so, if we take into account both the soldiers he has conscripted and the mercenaries he’s hired.”

After confirming what they were dealing with, the discussion moved on to the plan itself.

“How should we attack?”

“Why don’t we set up a camp here first?”

“We could wait for the center to send reinforcements.”

As the nobles discussed, Ceylan stepped in to suggest what their initial objectives should be. “It is vital that we start by taking the Tab stronghold on the edge of Nadar. We’ll break through each objective one by one and make a steady advance. I trust you all have a good idea of how to do that?”

The Tab stronghold was a fortress that stood in the choke point from Nadar into Rustinell; all land traffic had to pass through there.

“Sir, we have received word that Nadar’s forces are moving more quickly than we anticipated,” Eulid reported.

“Oh?”

“Should they continue at the pass, I do not believe we can make it to the Tab stronghold in time.”

“And if we were to send an advance force?”

“While such a force may be able to break through the guards and take the stronghold, they are unlikely to be able to hold it for long. The enemy will take it back almost immediately.”

“Understood. I was hoping to take it before the enemy had set up its defenses, but no matter. In that case, where are we likely to meet them?”

“We should be able to make it to the Mildoor Plains around the time Nadar’s army has finished setting up its encampment around the stronghold.”

“They are moving fast...”

“We’ll only be at the plains...”

The nobles began to murmur amongst themselves.

“Eulid. You mean to say the first battle will be fought when we reach the stronghold?” Ceylan asked.

“We cannot overlook the possibility.”

Some of the nobles groaned audibly at the prospect of storming the fortress. Breaking through the guard was one thing, but trying to attack an occupied stronghold was something else. The attacking side needed a suitable number of soldiers, and the casualties would be great. It was especially unwelcome news for lower-ranking nobles like the barons and baronets, who possessed few men to start with.

“We’ll be fighting them at the stronghold after all.” Ceylan sighed.

“At the very least, we should take solace in the fact that we won’t be fighting at Nadar’s castle.”

As it was a war of subjugation they were prosecuting, the lords should have foreseen that fighting right on Nadar’s doorstep would be a possibility, but even fighting at the stronghold was enough to have them moaning. Arcus thought that much should have been obvious to these martial families familiar with war and tactics, but apparently he was mistaken.

Arcus suddenly remembered the day he made the decision to come to Rustinell. He’d left the store with Sue, and the two of them had started talking strategy. She’d said:

“Huh? What? Does the Raytheft House really have strategic guides like that?”

She’d made it sound as if the existence of such books was unheard of. If that was true, then what was obvious to Arcus might not have been so obvious after all, even to martial houses. He’d never seen those kinds of books sold in bookstores here either. Perhaps it was the man’s world which was strange, allowing materials containing what should have been secret strategies to fall into the hands of the general public.

Just then, Count Bowe spoke out over the grumblings at the table.

“There is nothing to fear in attacking the stronghold. We have plenty of men. All we need to do is cut down anybody who stands in our way. Don’t you agree?”

“That’s right. We have more men than they do.”

“Even a frontal attack shouldn’t be a problem for us.”

A few nobles shared their agreement.

“Let me ask you, all who are gathered,” Ceylan said. “How would you attack the Tab stronghold?”

One of the higher-ranking nobles gave his answer.

“Sir, I think we should break through using siege engines and magical troops, and keep up the invasion as soon as we are through. If we make a show of our power in these early stages, it could well break down enemy morale. No force can withstand a siege long when their spirit is broken.”

“Yes, I can see that. Destroying as much of the stronghold as possible would be rather amusing, I might add.”

“Haha. With Your Royal Highness’s power, we could even see the destruction of an entire continent.”

“Sir, if the enemy has no hope of receiving reinforcements, we have the option of approaching things more slowly. For example, surrounding the stronghold and waiting for Porque Nadar to use up all of his resources.”

“Hm. I do like the sound of slow-cooked pork.”

“We may be looking at slow-cooked frog, sir. But even that would be worth seeing.”

A ripple of laughter spread through the lords. While the humor skewed dark, it did well to relieve some of the tension in the air. Ceylan’s joke encouraged more of the nobles to come forward with their ideas.

“Your Royal Highness.”

“Count Bowe. Speak. What is your idea?”

“Sir, I do not think we need any fancy tricks for this particular fight. As I mentioned before, we have the numbers advantage. We can simply employ standard siege tactics.”

“Hmm.”

“The common strategies are common precisely because they are tried and tested. We simply follow the example set by those who came before us.”

“That is certainly one way of looking at things. With a secure plan like that, the nobles who are not here can be sure that my rule is a steadfast one.”

“Indeed, sir!”

Once the lords had shared their ideas with Ceylan, he turned to Louise.

“What are your thoughts, Louise? I would like to hear your honest opinion.”

“Yes, sir. When dealing with a stronghold, I believe it is important to implement as many safeguards as we can, and it will be vital to lure their soldiers out of the city. Our first step should be to make their soldiers and officers feel that they do not want to be inside the fortress.”

“I see. What do you think of the idea of using siege engines and magical troops, in that case?”

“Siege engines are expensive in terms of labor and money, and using our magical troops so early would force them out of action at a time we may really need them. If we are after a spectacular and elegant victory, we ought to be careful with our calculations and organization.”

“What about a slow siege?”

“That would be a good strategy if we wish to limit our losses. However, sustaining a siege is expensive, and may prove to be quite the burden on our viscounts and the nobles beneath them. I also believe that Your Royal Highness’s reputation may come to be at risk if we are seen dragging our heels.”

“That is true. There are many factors to consider.” Ceylan’s voice was thoughtful.

The way Louise conducted herself was impressive. She didn’t dismiss the other nobles’ ideas outright, instead clearly presenting the good with the bad and leaving the final decision up to Ceylan. She’d avoided offending any of the nobles who gave their ideas, and prevented them from losing face. Out of all the martial houses here, Rustinell House had the most impressive track record, so the other lords had no choice but to hear out its head’s opinions.

“However...” Louise continued.

“Yes?”

“All the opinions we have heard so far are based on the assumption that we will fight at the stronghold.”

“Oh? Elaborate.”

“Forgive me, sir, but I am not entirely convinced that things will be that simple.”

“Lady Louise,” Count Bowe cut in. “Nadar is coming to attack; it is only natural that his first port of call would be to secure and hold Tab. I should like to hear why Your Ladyship thinks otherwise.”

“Just a hunch.”

“A...‘hunch’?” Count Bowe repeated, his eyelashes trembling slightly, as if he thought Louise had just slighted him.

But Louise’s expression was calm as she explained. “Hm? Hunches are important when you go out to fight, you know. Though I guess a hunch shouldn’t be the basis for your entire plan of attack.”

“This is a war council! I hardly think bringing up a ‘hunch’ is appropriate!”

“Yeah, you’re right. But I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels like there’s something off here. Right?”

A few of the lords began to murmur.

“That’s right...”

“It might be too hasty to assume a fight at the stronghold...”

“Louise.”

“Sir. I ask only that Your Royal Highness keeps my concerns in mind.”

Despite Louise’s words, the meeting continued under the assumption that they would be fighting at Tab. While the discussions moved smoothly, Arcus couldn’t help but worry they were heading in the wrong direction.

Firstly, there were the movements of Nadar’s army. If the conversation so far was to be believed, it was Nadar’s intent to march on Rustinell’s capital.

“He’s coming all the way down here instead of holing up in his castle, which would be easier to defend?” Arcus whispered to Noah.

“It appears so.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense.” Arcus let out the sigh he had been holding in.

If he were Porque Nadar in this situation, he wouldn’t march down to meet the troops planning to subjugate him. His first priority would be bolstering his defenses. The easiest place to meet the enemy would be in Nadar castle, which had the best defenses in the entire county. If he could hold out against the enemy attack and use that time to gather reinforcements from a country hostile to the kingdom, he might have a chance of victory. Considering Nadar’s alleged connections with the Empire, Arcus couldn’t see why he’d use any other strategy. Why not make use of those connections and then escape? Arcus couldn’t work it out.

“Master Arcus. A penny for your thoughts?”

“Huh?! Wait, I wanna hear this!” Deet swung around to hear what Arcus had to say.

“It’s nothing really. I was just wondering why Nadar’s side is being so proactive,” he explained. “Normally in a situation like this, you’d hole up in your castle or get in quick to try and pick off enemies one by one before they have time to gather together. Nadar took a while to get the men he needed, so it would make sense for him to focus on defense, but instead he’s actively marching to meet us. I just don’t get what he’s trying to do.”

“Isn’t it just that he knows he’s screwed eventually, so he might as well come put up a fight?” said Deet.

“Then wouldn’t he pick somewhere other than the Mildoor Plains to stage the battle? But he’s taking over the Tab stronghold... What’s it like, anyway?”

“Hm, well...” Deet began. “It’s not the best place to mount a defense. It’s fine temporarily, but there are other places further back which are better equipped, and you can’t even post that many people there. I wouldn’t pick it as a base, and I think that’s also why mom doesn’t seem sure about this whole thing.”

“Right, so there are better places deeper in Nadar to hold. Which means there’s gotta be a reason why they can’t.”

The Tab stronghold had poor defenses, and there was nothing but plains to its east. Numbers invariably held the advantage on flat land: the one thing Nadar didn’t have. A fight on the plains was something Nadar’s side should want to avoid at all costs. Yet still they were marching.

“There’s gotta be a reason that Nadar has to meet the prince’s army fast. A reason that only came up recently. You often hear about sides trying to end a fight quickly if they’re worried they’re gonna run out of resources, but I don’t think that’s the case here. Otherwise it’s because they want to rush in and grab a good defensive position, but we already know it’s the wrong spot for that. All that’s there is this paltry Tab stronghold...”

While wartime strategy and military doctrine were not widespread in this world and some degree of naivety might be expected, Nadar had been put in charge of his own territory; Arcus found it difficult to believe he was doing this out of foolishness. There had to be some kind of meaning behind his movements. Nadar was rushing, and the simplest explanation for that was that he was running short on time. In this fight, the passage of time put him at a disadvantage, because he was expecting his opponent to gain reinforcements from other territories. The enemy would only become more numerous the longer he waited. Would those extra numbers prevent him from doing something specific, perhaps?

The most obvious answer was that it would be harder to defeat the opposing forces, but Arcus quickly dismissed that idea. That was going to be difficult enough for Nadar’s troops in the first place. Without his own reinforcements or bolstered defenses, he simply wouldn’t be fighting them on equal terms.

It couldn’t be that he was rushing to secure strategic points either, due to the points Deet had raised about the Tab stronghold earlier. There were no further places to capture in front of the Tab stronghold either, so it wasn’t even useful as a stepping stone.

So what was the reason? What did Porque Nadar want more than anything else right now? What was it that would slip out of his grasp if the opposing force gathered more soldiers, if it wasn’t victory or strategic position?

“The prince’s head...” Arcus murmured.

He suddenly realized the lords at the table were staring at him. Arcus froze, and the next second Ceylan was looking at him too. The tension in the room rose sharply in the blink of an eye, and Arcus wondered if the nobles were angry at him for voicing his thoughts out loud. But then he realized they seemed just as tense as he did; not one of them offered a word of caution or rebuttal. The oppressive air came from one source only: Ceylan Crosellode himself.

“Arcus.” The prince’s voice was calm, monotonous; perhaps even a little cold as he spoke Arcus’s name. It only added more weight to the realization that Arcus should’ve kept his mouth shut. At the very least, he could’ve chosen better words to say aloud than “the prince’s head.”

Uh oh...

Arcus regretted thinking so hard in the first place, but there was nothing he could do about it now. The temperature in the room seemed to drop as Arcus stiffened and prepared himself for a scolding, worrying at the same time that his silence was only going to make things worse. Deciding to apologize, he was about to take a hurried step forward when Noah got in first, placing one knee on the floor.

“Your Royal Highness. Please forgive our impudence of holding a private conversation in the midst of this war council.”

“Hm.”

“I am at fault for encouraging my master to speak. I only ask that I bear any rightful punishment Your Royal Highness sees fit rather than him.”

“Noah...”

Noah didn’t turn around at the sound of his name, but held his position fast, a sign to reassure Arcus that he would take care of things. Hot guilt rushed through him.

“You were Noah Ingvayne, yes?” Ceylan inquired.

“Sir! I can think of no greater honor than Your Royal Highness remembering my name.”

“Of course I remember. A gifted student, you graduated with top honors from the Institute, and received training from both Crucible and Peacemaker. They call you the Winter Wunderkind. I am not foolish enough to forget the name of a magician with such rare talent.”

“Sir...” Noah bowed his head deeply.

The surrounding lords reacted with surprise, both at the fact that Ceylan would remember the name of a mere servant, and that said servant had connections to not one, but two state magicians. The room was filled with murmurs of admiration and interest, which Ceylan quickly put a stop to.

“Stand down. I was addressing Arcus.”

“Sir—”

“I find your readiness to protect your master admirable. However, I do not wish to repeat myself.”

“Yes, sir.”

Noah had no choice but to back down. Any other action would have worsened the situation. Noah returned to Arcus’s side and turned his gaze away apologetically. He must have felt just as guilty as Arcus did.

“Wait, sir!” Deet interjected in a hurry. “Arcus was only, um...”

He clearly hadn’t considered his words before speaking. All that came after that were more “um”s and “er”s.

“Dietria. Do not open your mouth before you have decided what you wish to say.”

“Er...um...”

Arcus gave Deet a quiet “thanks,” before stepping forward and taking a knee right in the center of all the anxiety and awkwardness. He opened his mouth to apologize, but was interrupted by Ceylan.

“Well, Arcus? You had more to say, did you not? What are you doing?”

“Huh?”

Ceylan’s prompt was completely unexpected. Arcus thought he would be scolded, if not outright punished, for his careless remark, but the reality ended up being the opposite. Ceylan even seemed confused by his move to apologize. It sounded like the prince wanted him to speak, and the next second, he was proven right.

“Arcus. I wish to hear what you have to say.”

“B-But, sir—”

“It is my view that you have nothing to apologize for. Unless your words just now were borne of some unforgivable, violent fantasy to do me harm?”

“Oh, n-no, sir! Of course not!”

“Then speak. Your point of view is vital to our grasp of the situation.”

“Y-Yes, sir!” Arcus stood up. He couldn’t see how his blunder hadn’t been seen as rude. Exchanging a quick glance with Noah and Deet, he breathed a small sigh of relief before continuing. “Sir. What I am about to say is a slight tangent to what has been discussed so far. May I?”

“Go on. This is all in aid of understanding the situation, as I have said. You may speak freely.” Ceylan shifted his chair so he faced Arcus straight on.

Arcus took a deep breath before speaking again. “My words earlier related to some doubts I hold about Porque Nadar’s motive. As has been discussed, Nadar is marching toward Rustinell, and I was wondering why exactly that might be.”

“Surely it is because he wishes to meet my troops and fight?”

“If that were the case, I do not believe he would feel the need to move quite so quickly. Your Royal Highness’s troops would come to meet him in any case, and all he would have to do would be to prepare thoroughly for them.”

“Yes, that makes sense. With his scant numbers, fighting from his castle would be most optimal. However, it would not make as much sense when he has no hope of seeing reinforcements. Otherwise he would exhaust his men and gain nothing. We could simply surround him and chip away at his defenses. In this particular fight, such a plan would be unwise.”

“I agree completely, sir. However, even if Nadar has realized such a thing, his reaction in moving his men seems too delayed. If he had acted the moment Your Royal Highness retreated to Rustinell, he might have been able to block our movements, or whittle our forces down before they gathered, but he’s lost the opportunity now.”

“Indeed. His movements seem illogical. Unless, of course, he simply wished to take his men for a walk.”

If there was one way to sum up Nadar’s movements, it would be “indecisive.” Forcing a siege at his castle would have been the best bet, but it sounded like he’d barely even considered it. On top of that, he’d waited for Ceylan’s army to gather before doing anything, which was nothing short of suicidal.

The lords began to voice their own opinions on the matter.

“That is only assuming Porque Nadar has thought things through properly!”

“Yes. I can well see somebody as pig-headed as him moving his men in the manner that he has.”

“I believe you are overthinking the situation. I doubt Porque Nadar has any sort of plan.”

They were unanimously against Arcus. He agreed there was a chance he was overthinking things. Perhaps he realized he wasn’t getting reinforcements, left the safety of his castle, and charged toward Rustinell out of desperation. But if that were true and he wasn’t thinking, the prince’s side wouldn’t have to bother worrying about what sort of plan he might have. And that just seemed all too convenient.

However, the majority of the lords seemed to think Nadar was a brainless fool.

“He’s just a child.”

“We need not listen to him.”

They began to murmur among themselves again.

“Sir, I do not believe we should be thinking too deeply into this situation,” one of the lords began, addressing Ceylan. “If this child may be asked to—”

“Silence,” Ceylan snapped.

That one word was enough for Arcus to feel like there was a millstone around his neck. Whether Ceylan thought the nobles were being too loud or he objected to them interrupting his conversation with Arcus, the room was filled with a suffocating, near-physical weight which put an immediate end to the heated discussion.

“I’m afraid I let my temper run away with me.” With those words, the weight in the room vanished immediately, as though it had never been there in the first place. Ceylan turned to the lords again. “There is truth in what you say. Porque Nadar is a foolish pig who dared to turn his blade toward the crown, and Arcus may well be overthinking the matter. That is why I wish to listen to those most knowledgeable about the topic of battle. Louise. Roheim, my professor. Should we continue on this line of discussion, or should we move on?”

Unwilling to completely ignore the lords’ opinions, Ceylan sought the support of the higher-ranking individuals. One was a monarch and Lainur’s western bulwark, and the other was a state magician with a great deal of battle experience. If they agreed to keep speaking on the subject, the lords would no longer be in a place to complain.

“I believe there is merit in listening to everything Arcus Raytheft has to say,” Louise said. “Even if the enemy is a fool, we cannot let his advance trip us up. I believe we ought to explore every possibility we can.”

“Professor?”

“As Your Royal Highness knows, I like to focus on the finer details wherever possible. As with magic, I do not like to move things forward where obscurity remains. At the very least, I believe there is merit in hearing what the boy has to say.”

“Very well. There you have it.” Ceylan turned to the lords. “Will you agree to let Arcus speak now?”

Sure enough, the lords were unable to raise any more objections.

“Now where were we, Arcus? You were saying the movements of Nadar’s army lacked consistency.”

“Yes, sir. I was wondering why he would march instead of sheltering in his castle.”

“The only conclusion I can come to is that it is due to his lack of reinforcements.”

“I agree, sir, but there might be another reason.”

“We have already ascertained that reinforcements are out of the question. Every noble in the kingdom is against him, and we have blocked off the lines of communication between him and them. Furthermore, the Empire behind his county is in no position to provide him with troops.”

“Indeed, sir, but there is still a connection between them.”

“A connection?” Ceylan leaned forward, his brow creasing in thought.

“Porque Nadar was selling silver illegally to the Empire. To do so, there must be some sort of channel between them. This is just conjecture, but if there is a communication channel, then Nadar has had the chance to finish negotiations with the Empire. As part of such a deal, Nadar would probably ask for his guaranteed safety and position once this is all over, as well as reinforcements for the current fight.”

“Yes, that would make sense, assuming his plan is to defect. However, I would not expect the Empire to agree to his requests, given that it is already engaging in warfare elsewhere.”

“What if the Empire did not outright refuse, but agreed while affixing additional conditions? For example, if he agreed to hand Your Royal Highness over to them?”

“Porque Nadar would come rushing recklessly for my head. I see! So that’s what’s going on!” Ceylan seemed to have put the rest of the pieces together himself. There was even a spark of excitement in his tone. “Arcus. Are you saying that Nadar is marching because he wants my head?”

“Yes, sir. That is what I have surmised, listening to the discussion so far. At first, he did nothing because he was still expecting reinforcements from the Empire. But when they gave him a condition for those reinforcements, he moved immediately to fulfill it.”

“I see. That would certainly explain his actions.”

“I believe it to be quite likely. This entire ordeal started with Nadar attempting to trap Your Royal Highness. Even if the Empire does not respond well later, he would be able to leverage Your Royal Highness as a hostage to afford himself some sort of breakthrough. Either way, he would need to march to fulfill his goal.”

“I see. Even without the Empire’s involvement, Nadar would gain from capturing me.”

No matter the finer details of the situation, this was Nadar’s best bet. Arcus wasn’t yet ready to dismiss the idea that this might be the result of a deal with the Empire either. By offering the prince’s head to the hostile power right at the start of the conflict, he could gain their favor. It might even encourage the kingdom’s other enemies, such as Granciel and the eastern Han tribe to make a move as well.

As Ceylan spoke, some of the lords seemed to catch on too. Those who had initially wanted Arcus to step down were now staring wide-eyed. While Louise and Roheim already seemed satisfied, there were still those who disagreed.

Bowe stood up as if to speak on their behalf, and made no attempt to hide his exasperation. “Sir. Perhaps we have established a motive, but that is all. I do not think that is something that requires discussion at a war council meeting.”

Gasps filled the air.

“Huh? Are you for real right now?!” Louise cried.

“This is important information to help us form a strategy,” Eulid said.

“Indeed,” Ceylan agreed. “Arcus. Calling you into this meeting was evidently the right choice. I feel you have opened our eyes.”

“Wh...” Count Bowe began, clearly dismayed at what was going on around him. Meanwhile, the lords who had agreed all along were dismayed at him.

Roheim, who up until now had been quiet unless called upon, spoke then. “Is this your first time in a conflict like this one, Count Bowe?”

“L-Let it be known I have been in one or two battles before!” Bowe narrowed his eyes.

Roheim returned his glare evenly, at which point Bowe let out a whimper and huddled back. His outburst must have been the result of an impulsive anger. Louise and her subordinate lords were enough to intimidate him before, so of course he couldn’t stand up to a state magician’s beastly presence.

“Allow me to summarize the situation and make sure everyone present is on the same page,” Roheim said, turning his gaze away from the count. “Young Arcus’s suggestion flips this conflict on its head. Porque Nadar’s current movements are unnatural and suggest a lack of self-preservation. Of all the options available to him, he has chosen one of the most unwise. So why did he make that decision? Possibly because the Empire has asked for His Royal Highness either to be killed or taken hostage. Are we all agreed so far?”

The lords voiced their agreement.

“And why should this make it easier for us to strategize? Well, without a good grasp of Nadar’s motives, our only choices involved fighting back. Now, however, we can counter Nadar’s motives in our plan. In short, we have more options.”

“Count Langula, I fail to see—”

The persistent Bowe was cut off by a disappointed gaze.

“It should be obvious. Porque Nadar is targeting His Royal Highness. From that, we can gather that where His Royal Highness is, Nadar and his men will follow. Now, what advantage would that give us, do you think?”

“W-We get to decide where the deciding battle should be fought.”

“That is not all, however,” Roheim paused. “I am willing to give you half marks.”

Count Bowe failed to bring his reasoning one step further and realize that it also meant they could tactically control the enemy army’s movements. Being battered from all sides by opposing remarks seemed to have flustered him. Though he held himself confidently when greeting the prince, perhaps he wasn’t as used to these situations as he liked to pretend.

Roheim turned to look at Arcus then. “A question, if I may.”

“F-For me?”

“Given that you have perceived as much from the situation as you have, I am sure you have some idea as to what the opposing armies will do next. I wonder if you can answer me this: If your supposition is correct, what will happen from here on?”

“My Lord. Even if our side moves out, I do not believe we will be fighting at the Tab stronghold. If Nadar is targeting His Royal Highness, I think we can safely expect him to be more aggressive than we were originally prepared for. He will try to fight us as soon as he can, and so I believe we must act more quickly than him and prepare to meet his men.”

“I agree. It would be most troublesome if we were caught unprepared and forced into battle somewhere unforeseen.” Satisfied with Arcus’s response, Roheim nodded.

While being questioned like that by the state magician gave Arcus an odd sense of déjà vu, the threat of a surprise attack was more pressing. The biggest dangers would come if they were attacked while moving or setting up camp. Their soldiers would be scattered and unprepared, while the attacking enemy forces would be fully equipped and ready for battle. Your average soldier would be hard-pressed to think of a more nightmarish situation; there would be no time to take up their weapons or equip their armor. If they even tried, they would be utterly destroyed before they could. That was why ascertaining when and where the enemy would attack was so important.

Just some more stuff I picked up from books...

The benevolent Sun Tzu again. It made Arcus wonder what was up with the ancient people of the man’s world. Why were they all so impossibly smart?

“Arcus.”

“Sir?”

“Question. If it were up to you, where would you designate as the first battlefield for this war?”

Arcus began to demonstrate with the map and tokens laid out on the table. “As our numbers are greater, I would suggest the Mildoor Plains, sir.”

“Hm. Is there no better place? One which would grant us the opportunity to catch the enemy off guard?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Very well. I suppose playing it safe is a viable strategy too.” The tone in Ceylan’s response suggested he was enjoying himself, but it was gone when he presented Arcus with his next question. “I would like to shave away some of Nadar’s numbers in advance. What would you suggest?”

“Perhaps a strategy for sowing discord.”

“I see. However, I do not believe that to be necessary; Nadar has put himself on that path already.”

“Should I suggest something else, sir?”

“Yes. Go ahead.”

Arcus paused to think before giving his answer. “I’m afraid this might be incredibly discourteous to suggest, sir. With Your Royal Highness’s permission, however, I would like to speak.”

“Go on. You may speak completely freely.”

“In that case, please excuse me. My suggestion would be to create a group of ‘false princes,’ and send them sporadically into Nadar.”

“Oh?”

The lords around them gasped at Arcus’s curious suggestion. They seemed to find it discourteous indeed.

“Why, you! How dare you suggest something so outrageously insolent?!” Bowe leaped up to shout at Arcus, and several other lords made to follow suit.

“Silence! Have you forgotten that His Royal Highness gave this boy permission to speak freely?!” Eulid said.

“Ugh...”

With that, order was restored, and Arcus continued.

“Given his goals, Nadar will immediately send soldiers wherever he thinks Your Royal Highness is. We can lure them wherever we like and pick them off, and then we will be facing far fewer soldiers when it comes to the deciding battle.”

“But once he’s realized he’s dealing with a fake, he won’t fall for the same trick twice,” Louise warned.

“My Lady. I have read accounts in strategic books of soldiers losing their morale in the face of their commanders treating them as disposable. Even if Nadar knows he’s walking into a trap, as long as he lacks the sympathy to sustain his soldiers’ favor, he has no choice but to rise to his enemy’s challenge.”

“Hm. If he ignores the challenges, the troops will think he lacks trust in their strength,” Ceylan said. “If he sends them out, they will feel like he does not value their lives. I can see where you are coming from.”

Nadar’s current position was disadvantageous. Facing an enemy as powerful as the kingdom, he was at risk of desertion at any given moment. He needed to be on his guard constantly just to maintain his numbers. While there was no guarantee he could be easily goaded, the possibility was high enough.

Louise let out an impressed hum. Bowe was, naturally, less impressed.

“That’s ridiculous. What if Nadar sends out his troops to one of these ‘challenges’ in great numbers? How are we supposed to ‘pick them off’ then?”

“The more men you move, the more difficult it is. Gathering men takes a considerable amount of time, and that goes for both armies. We should send our men in smaller groups to meet Nadar’s troops,” Arcus said.

“What?” Bowe gasped.

He was an incredibly unperceptive man. Arcus could barely believe he was a military man himself.

Arcus decided to explain again, this time making the information more digestible for the count, just as Roheim had before. “The more men in one’s troops, the longer it takes to move them. As His Royal Highness has already said, moving one large group toward several smaller ones scattered out is difficult. Your Lordship can imagine it from our side too; if we were to do the same thing, our movements would become clumsy. Slower.”

“How dare you insult the men led by His Royal Highness?!”

Give me strength...

Arcus let out a deep, silent sigh. It was hard to have a constructive conversation with these people. They would just claim anything they didn’t like was a slight against their superiors, and use that chance to move the discourse in their chosen direction. It was utterly tiresome, and personally Arcus didn’t want to associate with people who played such petty tricks. But then, this man wasn’t Arcus’s current conversation partner in the first place. He had been trying to answer Ceylan’s question when Bowe jumped in with one of his own. There was no need to turn his focus away from the prince.

“Sir?”

“Continue.” Having guessed what Arcus was thinking, Ceylan nodded. Arcus now had permission to ignore Count Bowe.

“We still have some time before Nadar’s troops approach the Mildoor Plains. I believe the best strategy would be to use that time to separate his men, pare down his forces as best we can, and commence the final battle before he has time to gather his bearings.” Only when Arcus finished explaining did he feel the weight of all the eyes settled on him.

All those eyes were open wide with astonishment, as if they could not believe a child capable of coming up with such a plan. At the very least, he was relieved that none of the lords were scoffing at his idea.

“Interesting. Very interesting,” Ceylan murmured. “However, that is all it is. There is no guarantee that we will be able to lure the enemy soldiers, and if we are to go ahead with this plan, we will have to revisit the composition of our men. We have not the time for that anymore. It is an interesting plan indeed, but not a serviceable one.”

“Yes, sir. Please allow me to apologize for wasting Your Royal Highness’s time with my naivety.”

“No need. I said you were to speak freely.”

“Yes, sir.” Arcus bowed his head.

It wasn’t like he’d expected the prince to just accept his plan without question. At the end of the day, it was nothing more than an untested theory. What he hadn’t reckoned with was how exhausting speaking with royalty could be. Everything he said had to come across in the most humbling way imaginable, and every word had to be mulled over before he spoke.

“Hmph. Foolish child.”

Not to mention Count Bowe’s need to comment on absolutely everything was starting to severely tick him off. Perhaps it was his comments when Arcus stepped forward to greet the prince that made him overly conscious of the count now. Perhaps he would warn Noah and Cazzy to be careful around him once the meeting was over.

Arcus was then ordered to step down, at which point he returned to his original position.

“If Nadar is coming for us, might we not consider drawing him into Rustinell itself and holding the first encounter here?” Eulid suggested. “If we are the ones to occupy a stronghold and we allow them to attack, it may work out in our favor.”

“No, I still believe the Mildoor Plains is where we ought to fight,” Ceylan said. “With the lords on our side, we have plenty of fighting power. To hole up in a castle despite that would show cowardice on our part.”

Ceylan then stood up to make a declaration to all assembled. “I shall say it once more. Our purpose in this fight is to subjugate the cowardly traitor. Naturally, we shall plan for victory, but it would not do to lose sight of our objective. We must be assertive in our fight against Nadar; we must crush him with all our might. Only then can we call this operation a success.”

Ceylan had declared war on Porque Nadar, but defeating Nadar was simply the means by which the prince’s true goal would be achieved: to show the entire kingdom—no, the entire world—that the crown would not allow traitors to draw breath within its borders.

Nadar’s subjugation had to come to pass. The prince ordering his troops to hole up in a castle, even if it was an effective method to buy time for the main army to join them, would mean allowing Nadar to attack first. The circumstances didn’t matter; the singular truth of Nadar’s opening blow had the power to damage the prince’s reputation. It risked things snowballing into apprehensive rumors that Ceylan was weak and unfit to lead troops. The fact that Ceylan’s side outnumbered Nadar’s would just add to the vitality of those rumors. Ceylan couldn’t afford to fight this war passively.

War was a branch of politics. It was often said that crushing the enemy should not be an objective, but a means to an end. In this fight, losing was not an option, but a lazy victory could prove to be even worse. They had to attack, attack, attack with everything they had. Only then would their victory have any merit. Their means of victory was just as important as the victory itself, and that made things difficult.

“Let me ask you. Where should we fight the decisive battle? If you can think of anywhere else, do not hesitate to speak.”

One by one, the lords gave their support to fight at the Mildoor Plains. As long as they had the numbers advantage, it was a no-brainer. Finally, Ceylan and the lords decided on their next steps and their tactics for the decisive battle. The prince then declared the closing of the war council.

“This meeting was fruitful indeed. Next time, I ought to have a seat prepared for Arcus at the table.”

Wait, what?

Ceylan’s final words left Arcus’s head full of nothing but questions.

Ceylan had given Arcus what he supposed was meant as praise. But it wasn’t just Ceylan whom he’d impressed; he found himself approached by several lords even after he left the room. Before he knew it, he’d been completely surrounded, which terrified him for the brief moment he thought he was being threatened.

“You displayed an incredibly keen sense of perception.”

“You have fantastic knowledge of military matters for one your age.”

“I see now why His Royal Highness requested that you fight at his side.”

The lords introduced themselves before lavishing Arcus with praise. There were even some he heard ponder aloud why he was deemed “talentless.” He was grateful that the better part of the people he’d known took the time to let him explain his circumstances and draw their own conclusions. It was a sign that, as long as he put in the work to raise his reputation, those rumors might eventually become a thing of the past. His experience in the war council sparked that still-tiny hope inside him.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

Among the lords was more than one who sought him out deliberately to give a less positive message.

That evening, Arcus retired to the chambers reserved for him on the lord of Nalvarond’s estate. As he was here as Louise’s guest, he received more favorable treatment than the lower-ranking nobles who’d come to fight. Louise even offered a place in Nalvarond’s castle, but Arcus declined, fearing he might become the object of jealousy. He was the son of a low-ranking noble; he didn’t belong in the same building as Ceylan and those of higher status.

Arcus’s room was magnificent. Its twenty square meters held four beds, a couch, a table, and several chairs. In the corners of the room were Sol Glasses set behind blackout curtains, which Arcus would be drawing very soon—but right now he was sitting in one of the chairs and enjoying some well-earned peace.

“Sorry about what happened at the council. I didn’t think anyone was listening.”

“Not at all,” Noah replied. “Please allow me to apologize for not acting with due care. I neglected prudence in order to satisfy my curiosity by asking for your thoughts, and in doing so I failed in my duty as your servant.”

While Noah had been his usual composed self even after the meeting, Arcus noticed he hadn’t been speaking as much as he tended to. Noah hadn’t done anything wrong, but apparently he was feeling guilty about it.

Meanwhile, Arcus’s other attendant was currently playing battle chess with Galanger.

“So?” Cazzy cackled. “Ya put on a show in front of the prince, did ya? It’s like every day ya do somethin’ worth talkin’ about.”

“It wasn’t a show,” Arcus insisted.

“It was! You had the whole room hanging on your every word after the halfway point! And mom was saying all this nice stuff about you after! You know how mean she is usually! Right?” Deet turned to Galanger to back him up.

Galanger nodded; it was clear the news of Louise’s praise surprised him. “Yes. If ma’am praised you, you must have done well. There. Your magician is mine.”

“Ugh. Shoulda seen that coming.” Cazzy scowled as Galanger helped himself to one of his pieces.

“I just pointed out the stuff I thought didn’t make sense,” Arcus said.

“Perhaps; however, all of your points were highly pertinent. They even influenced the operation’s overarching plan.”

“I learned tons more from that war council than any other,” Deet added. “His Royal Highness was great as the chairman, but it was all the stuff you said that stuck with me.”

“I was just following that one principle, y’know? That the best plan isn’t based on how to defeat or invade your opponent’s castle, but on reading their plan and making it powerless.”

By preempting the enemy’s plan and preventing them from realizing it, it followed that they would be unable to make any further movements. Since the current conflict had a political purpose, Ceylan wasn’t able to prevent Nadar from targeting him directly, but even just knowing that the count was after the prince in the first place was vital information.

Deet frowned thoughtfully. “We fight a ton where I’m from, but I’ve never heard about this ‘principle.’ We just avoid fighting if we think we’re gonna lose or it’s gonna be too much of a pain. Right?”

“Yes,” Galanger agreed. “Military strategy is never that clear-cut.”

It’s never supposed to be that complicated either...

“I guess it’d all be influenced by the Ancient Chronicles, right?”

“Of course.”

“Right.”

Now that they were on the topic, Arcus did remember that the Chronicles touched on accounts of war here and there. There were depictions of the Lineal imperial era, during which conflict between humans would be common, in Demons and Society’s Collapse, the sixth installment. It would be unsurprising for it to cover matters of military strategy and tactics.

“When you speak about ‘reading your enemy’s plan,’ you mean to keep their objective in mind at all times, yes?” Noah pressed.

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“Uh,” Cazzy interjected with a frown. “Isn’t that obvious, though?”

“It sounds simple,” said Noah, “but I would wager that not making it a core component of one’s strategy makes it surprisingly forgettable.”

“I see,” said Galanger. “You hear it and it makes sense, but otherwise you don’t really think about it. Once the fighting starts, most people are more concerned with felling the opponents’ soldiers, since the more soldiers you have, the higher your chances of victory. From there, it’s easier to obsess over having the most men and—Oh!”

“Heh. Gotcher heavy cavalry.” Cazzy prodded at the piece on the palm of his hand and grinned. Once he was done being smug at Galanger, he turned back to Arcus. “Seriously though, what’s your deal? I thought your thing was magic, an’ now it turns out ya know about all this other stuff.”

“I must agree. There exist no books on such subjects at the Raytheft Estate, nor at Craib’s abode.”

“Yeah, I remember havin’ a look, but I never saw anythin’ like that.”

Arcus’s servants eyed him skeptically. He averted his gaze and fumbled for an excuse.

“Um... Well, y’know...”

“Ya just gonna say ya saw it somewhere again, are ya?”

“I wouldn’t be lying if I did! It’s not like I could’ve said all that stuff if I hadn’t seen it somewhere.”

“Yeah, but that don’t make ya any less fishy.”

“The issue here is that you are unable to show us any physical articles. If those books do not exist with your family, then I cannot help but wonder where you gained such knowledge.”

It didn’t matter how much Noah asked for physical proof; it was impossible to show him any. Everything Arcus read on military matters came from books in the man’s world. With no way to bring those books here, he had no way to prove anything. Arcus was racking his brains for something to say when Galanger let out a sudden cry.

“Yes! This is it! I’ve won!”

“Huh? N-No way! Don’t tell me lettin’ me take that cavalry just now was a trap?!”

Galanger laughed from deep within his belly. “Some things can only be learned from real experience, and not by being top of your class.”

Cazzy let out a wordless roar as Galanger gathered up the coins in the middle of the table. Cazzy was good at these games, so Galanger must have been outstanding. It looked like a relatively easy victory for him too.

“But yeah, knowing our opponent’s moves is really helpful. If we had more time, we could even set a trap or something at the battlefield,” Deet said.

“Under different circumstances, we likely would,” Galanger agreed.

“Huh?”

Noah turned to Galanger. “I think there might be something to the idea of withdrawing into Rustinell. What are your thoughts on the matter, My Lord?”

“I think it would be a good way to achieve a certain victory. We know the land enough to use it to our advantage, and could force the enemy to attack one of our strongholds. However, much of this fight has to do with His Royal Highness’s reputation. There’s one thing the kingdom will be looking to do once the fight is over. Do you know what that is?”

“I should suspect they will be conferring honors.”

“Exactly right. Additionally, this is His Royal Highness’s first fight, a cause for a huge gathering. We will likely see visitors from other lands, so it is no wonder His Royal Highness’s honor is at stake.”

“In other words, all eyes are on His Royal Highness’s strategy.”

“King Shinlu is particularly strict when it comes to reputation. Setting up for an easy victory could earn disdain from outside the kingdom, which limits what His Royal Highness can do, and disqualifies forcing a siege.”

By all accounts, Ceylan was to be launching an assault on Nadar to subjugate him. To then turn around and withdraw back into Rustinell would look cowardly, if nothing else. It meant holding off on attacking, and would even make the lords within the kingdom think he was fooling around. Allowing the enemy to make the first move would be nothing short of a bad joke.

“In some respects, you could say that young Arcus protected His Royal Highness from ridicule today. Not pinning down Nadar’s motives would leave us vulnerable to a surprise attack, which would damage His Royal Highness’s reputation no matter the fight’s outcome. That comment about allowing you a seat at the next meeting may not have been a joke.”

“You’re amazing, Arcus! Once this whole thing is done, it’d be cool if you could join my men! Except I’m guessing that’s not gonna happen...” Deet said.

“Huh?”

“See, after the meeting I asked His Royal Highness about having you, but he said he already had his eye on you, so I wasn’t allowed.”

“You...”

Arcus was incredulous that his own opinion didn’t seem to matter to Deet.

“I didn’t know you’d already started making your move,” Galanger remarked.

“Yeah, ’cause I gotta be quick! Or some other noble or lord’s gonna get in first!”

“Don’t these people ever rest?” Galanger mumbled.

“Oh, but His Royal Highness said no to them too,” Deet muttered.

Deet, nobles, lords, and even Ceylan... Seeing so many people eager to monopolize a young boy like himself made Arcus somewhat uncomfortable, but he had to remind himself that this wasn’t like the man’s world. This was a world where peculiar talents were held in high esteem. People would be after them no matter the subject’s age.

“How come His Royal Highness thinks so much of you, Arcus?”

“Uh, y’know. There’s been stuff.”

“Would it have anything to do with your coming to Rustinell?”

“L-Lord Galanger. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t read so much into things.”

“I’m afraid I cannot do that.” Galanger smirked.

Galanger was a feudal lord with territory himself. While military affairs weren’t necessarily his top priority, he would have his own interests in mind.

Anyway, even if Ceylan’s interest in Arcus was as a result of the aethometer, there was one thing that he still couldn’t wrap his head around. Ceylan knew all about Arcus and his magic-related activities, but that had nothing to do with military matters. So why had the prince called Arcus to a war council and asked for his opinions?

“I sure am jealous that you get to fight beside His Royal Highness,” Deet said.

“Y-Yeah.” Arcus couldn’t think of what else to say.

Deet frowned. “Huh? You don’t seem that happy about it.”

“Well, uh... How come you’re jealous?”

“Of course I’m jealous! It’ll raise your reputation with the royal family, and you’ll gain a connection to them if it goes well! It’s not every day you get a chance like that!”

“Oh.”

Deet made a good point. Arcus hadn’t considered how winning Ceylan’s favor might put him ahead in life. Privilege was everything in this country. How the people around you thought of you was important, but more than that, almost everything was decided by those in high places. There was no safer way to secure one’s reputation than impressing Prince Ceylan himself. That was one way Arcus could shake off his reputation as a failure for good.

He shot Noah and Cazzy a meaningful glance.

“I shall follow wherever you go.”

“You sure, Noah?”

“You are my master. Such is my duty.” An amused smile lit up Noah’s face. That smile gave away more to his reasoning; he wanted to follow Arcus because it excited him.

“Cazzy?”

“I already invaded that marquess’s place with ya. I knew from the start hangin’ with ya would mean more violence.” He cackled.

Arcus’s servants were both on board, so there was no reason for him to hold back anymore. They were both more used to fighting than he was, and he knew they’d want him to worry more about himself than them.

“By the way, Deet, what are you doing here?” Arcus asked, wanting to clear something up.

“Wait, I’ve been here for ages! Why’re you asking now?!” Deet was still rolling around on the bed (that wasn’t his) without a care in the world, especially not one for all the wrinkles he was leaving in the sheets. “Apart from mom, everyone else here is just some old man. Well, there are the female servants, but I feel kinda cramped when they’re around.”

“Which is why we’re here bothering you,” Galanger explained.

Arcus found it slightly concerning that those “old men’s” leader Galanger was here instead of working, but his primary job was to assist Deet, so perhaps this counted as work. Although Arcus wouldn’t go so far as to call playing battle chess with Cazzy assisting Deet.

“Hey, Arcus, how old are you?”

“Huh? I turned twelve this year.”

“Oh, so you’re a year older than me.”

“I am?”

“Yeah! Oh! Does that mean you’ll be my big brother? I mean, you’ve got, like this reliable look about you, so...”

“No way!” Arcus glared at Deet, who burst into laughter. “Look, we’ve got our separate social positions to think about. I know you speak to me casually, but acting like we’re family is a bit too much, y’know.”

“How? We’re similar in age anyway, so why not?”

Arcus didn’t respond; Deet didn’t seem willing to listen to reason no matter how he tried to explain. He was just flailing his limbs around and pouting on the bed. Arcus looked to Galanger for help, but he just let out a resigned sigh.

“I know how to behave properly when it matters.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Thanks, bro!” Deet grinned and rolled about on the bed some more while Arcus lamented the loss of his crisp sheets.

“You sure are excited about this.”

“Deet enjoys a good conflict,” Galanger said.

“Hey, if I do good here, I’ll be set for life, and everyone’ll cheer for me when I come home! Also, if I achieve lots in this fight, I think it’ll make mom feel better too.” Deet’s breathing quickened as he spoke. His motivation for this battle was clearly through the roof.

Deet wasn’t any ordinary child. His upbringing had been a privileged one, and right now he was acting according to his position. He must have been good at what he did too, considering that the adults let him clean up after the incident with Pilocolo at the warehouse, both in terms of fighting and his official duties.

The regional monarchs were obliged to organize fighting power within their territories; not just that of their direct vassals, but that of the smaller families as well. This set them apart from the nobles closer to the kingdom’s heart, and Arcus had heard that their education was stricter because of it. They couldn’t do their jobs if they weren’t taught properly about practical things like politics and diplomacy.

“I owe you a ton, Arcus. Thanks to what happened at the warehouse, I’ve got more chances to go after even bigger and better things!”

“Like enemy heads?”

“You got it!”

Once again, Arcus was reminded of how many violent people there were in this world.

War, huh...

But then again, perhaps Arcus could count himself as one of them. It wasn’t long now until he would be getting a taste of war for himself. While victory was more or less assured, there was one part of the plan that left an odd taste in Arcus’s mouth.

Why were they not doing anything to sow discord among Nadar’s forces? The only thing close to that had been a note from their commanding officer urging rebellion. They could be doing more to try and disadvantage their opponent, but they weren’t.

Nadar’s troops were human beings. They might have been organized toward a common goal, but on an individual level, they all acted according to their own interests. While Ceylan’s side moved under his influence, Nadar’s troops were a collection of conscripted farmers, citizens, and mercenaries. Driving a wedge between those mismatched people should have been easy, and there were several methods to choose from.

They could circulate fake letters to disturb their composure. Leak information that would cause falling-outs between the different groups. Promise glory to those who moved first, baiting troops out to be picked off.

Circulating these kinds of misinformation among the enemy could be done before the prince gathered full muster of his forces. Some of Nadar’s men were sure to be ambitious and easily goaded into moving prematurely. Some were bound to dislike each other already. Sending a “secret” letter hinting that one party was near to sedition could easily drive the other party to “punish” them.

The mercenaries would be even easier to deal with. They could just be bought out. Those that valued their reputation might be more difficult to persuade, but the majority of them would be easily swayed where money was involved. Using the kingdom’s financial power shouldn’t have been out of the question, and it was the fairest and cleanest option too, since it didn’t necessitate spilling blood.

Even more assertive would be sending a spy among their ranks to incite dissent. Take it a step further, and the spy could poison the opposing commanding officer, but that idea wasn’t realistic, as it would likely damage Ceylan’s reputation.

Finally, misrepresenting Ceylan’s own forces might also prove useful. Making them out to be less than they were would create real trouble for the enemy when the time came to fight.

“These are just a couple of ideas I came up with just from thinking things through a little.”

“Talk about fightin’ dirty. Ya possessed by a demon or somethin’?”

“You never fail to impress, Master Arcus. Your sweet face masks something much more sinister. Although I suppose that befits a noble such as yourself. I am sensing just the right levels of depravity from you.”

“Your servants don’t think particularly highly of you, do they?” Galanger remarked.

“But all that stuff makes it harder to do anything impressive in the fight itself. So I’m glad we’re not doing it!” Deet said.

“Oh, right. Yeah, now that you mention it, it would be harder for anyone to make a name for themselves if His Royal Highness implemented these ideas.”

“Yup. People’ll complain if there are less heads to chop off. People like that count!”

“Yeah, you’re right. Especially considering what he was like at the council.”

Wars were a huge source of income for martial families. They expected the prince to provide them with those opportunities to earn, and having that taken from them would doubtlessly invite discontent. While any of Arcus’s ideas would chip away at the enemy’s numbers before the fight, it would also cut down on the number of enemy heads there for the taking. As somebody who had never set foot on the battlefield before, such a detail had escaped Arcus’s notice.

Unlike in the man’s world, war here wasn’t about achieving a desired outcome as a group. It was all about distributing the gains among the individuals involved, and if it was a war where victory was more certain, doing too much to lower those gains was not desirable.

Galanger, who had been deep in thought, suddenly raised his gaze again. “If all the plans you suggest came to fruition, Nadar’s army would in all likelihood collapse from the inside. Unlike ours, his numbers are made up of conscripted soldiers and mercenaries who are apt to flee should the situation become unfavorable. In such a situation, the credit would be given entirely to His Royal Highness.”

“No way! That’d be so unfair! Listen, Arcus, please don’t tell His Royal Highness any of this stuff!” Deet pleaded.

Deet wanted these achievements to earn the trust of Louise’s vassals and the other powerful Rustinell houses. This war was his big chance to do just that, and losing it would be nothing short of a disaster for him. Arcus was quickly coming to realize that there was more to this war than victory or defeat.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. It was one of Ceylan’s Imperial guards. After greeting Deet and Galanger, he turned to Arcus.

“Arcus Raytheft. His Royal Highness wishes to see you. Please make your preparations immediately.”

“What?”

Before Arcus left, Deet took the time to let him know that, as his “big brother,” he would “do great.” Currently, Arcus, Noah, and Cazzy were in the carriage that had been prepared for them, and on their way to the castle, where Ceylan was waiting for them. It wasn’t even dinnertime; Arcus had no idea what the prince could possibly want from him. He asked the guard, but apparently he didn’t know that much himself; he was just ordered to come and get Arcus.

The setting sun glared through the western window of the carriage. Arcus closed the blackout curtain, and the seal on its end came up to meet the seal on the rail, at which point the ceiling light turned itself on. While the carriage’s interior was bright again, Arcus’s heart felt like it was clad in darkness. He put it down to the uncertainty and anxiety of his sudden summons.

Since his words at the war council seemed to have gone down well, he doubted he was being called for punishment, but he didn’t want to rule anything out; he didn’t know Ceylan that well, after all. Maybe he was going to be punished for his lack of preparation before he spoke, or maybe it was because he’d committed some slight against the prince without realizing it. While those reasons shouldn’t have warranted this, Arcus tried to prepare himself for the worst as he turned the matter over in his mind.

By the time they made it to Nalvarond Castle, the sun had already set. The prince’s sojourn meant that security was tight, and several guards lined the corridors to the meeting room. Arcus and his companions had their belongings searched, and anything that could be used as a weapon was temporarily confiscated.

Noah and Cazzy were to wait in a separate room while Arcus and his accompanying guard made their way to Ceylan’s room. Although it was night, the hallway they took there was lit up with a harsh white glow reminiscent of fluorescent fittings. The extra light was likely also for security purposes. Every single guard stationed along the corridor was armed and stood as though every fiber of their being was wound to its tensile limit.

Finally, Arcus and the guard came to Ceylan’s room. The guard announced their presence.

“Enter,” came the response from inside.

Arcus thanked the guard, not least because he’d tried to answer his earlier query, and stepped inside. The guard didn’t follow him, nor were there any further guards inside the room, which Arcus found strange. It was an extravagant room with luxurious fittings, and Ceylan was there alone. The prince was dressed in white, his sleeves long and wide, hiding his hands and arms. Near him sat a sword which reminded Arcus of a jian. On his lap lay an expensive-looking gold brocade blanket. Even in this more relaxed state, his face was completely hidden behind a black veil. There he sat on his four-poster bed, motionless as a doll.

Arcus bowed and knelt in front of Ceylan the moment he was through the door.

“Arcus Raytheft. Here in accordance with Your Royal Highness’s summons.” Arcus only got more nervous once the words were out of his mouth, and it was all thanks to a sudden increase of oppressive majesty from Ceylan.

It was the same cold force Arcus had felt at the first audience and during the war council. It froze Arcus to his core, as if he was standing outside in the middle of a blizzard; as though the human before him was a dark spirit who had descended from some frost-bound peak. His body stiffened from the imagined cold, and tremors creeped through his arms and legs.

Finally, Ceylan opened his mouth.

“Arcus.”

“Sir!”

“Are you afraid of me?”

“There is nobody in this country—no, on this entire continent—who does not fear Your Royal Highness.”

A dry laugh could be heard from the depths of Ceylan’s veil. “I shall allow you to relax a little. There, now your trembling ought to stop.”

“I am grateful for your kindness, sir.”

“Mm.”

The oppressive cold disappeared in an instant, as though it had only been a hallucination the entire time. In the man’s world, people who could switch off the tension exuding from their bodies existed only in manga or novels. Here, they existed normally, and in relative abundance. Arcus couldn’t help but wonder how exactly they controlled that kind of thing. It was as he considered asking Craib about it that Ceylan spoke again.

“You may relax. Hmm... Why not take a seat over there? I shall join you.” Ceylan pointed to a corner of the room.

A polished marble table which shone like a mirror sat there. Comfortable-looking couches with space enough for one were stationed around it.

“But, sir...”

“Fear not. You and I are alone in here. Nobody will punish you for any slights, and none of my men are ill-bred enough to spy on my private dealings.”

“I am surprised that there is not at least one guard present. May I ask why?”

“I wish to speak with you alone. There is no need for any witnesses. Or are you suggesting you might wish to cause me harm?”

“Of course not, sir.”

Even if Arcus wanted to, the prince was so much stronger than him that it would’ve been impossible. On the off chance Arcus was able to make the first move, he would inevitably lose his head to the sword on the prince’s hip within the next second.

Arcus moved to the spot Ceylan had indicated. A tea set had been set up on the table. There was a container full of dried leaves, another filled with hot water, a pot to dispose of the water, a small teapot, some tea cups, and a glass pitcher, among other items. Again, their appearance reminded Arcus of Chinese design, and the items were warm, as if they’d been warmed up in anticipation of his visit.

Ceylan, who had already sat down, casually picked up one of the cups. His movements were light, and he was even laughing a little, as though he wasn’t conforming to his usual manners. It was clear to Arcus that he was asking him to make the tea.

“What is this?”

“A phoenix. I ordered that exquisite item from Bǎi Liánbāng.”

Arcus had never heard of it. Instead, he turned his attention back to the tea leaves, trying to guess what kind they were by their soft fragrance. It smelled just like the Chinese tea from the man’s world.

“Is this oolong?”

“Impressive. I wasn’t aware you had knowledge of eastern teas.”

“O-Oh, no, I just happened to know this one.”

“Is that right?” Ceylan chuckled.

Arcus’s guess seemed to please him. The joy in the prince’s laugh was genuine. Arcus was surprised that oolong tea existed in this world. Although, since they had black tea, perhaps it wasn’t so strange after all.

Arcus looked up at Ceylan, but it didn’t look like the prince was willing to answer any questions; he wanted to see how Arcus would make the tea by himself. Did the man from Arcus’s dream know how to prepare oolong? Arcus sifted through his memories while studying the items on the table. The utensils were already warmed, and there were Seals on the teapot keeping its contents hot. There was nothing superfluous on the table, so Arcus deduced that he would have to make use of every tool here.

I think I read that some Chinese teas need to be washed in hot water first...

He managed to pick his memories over for the basics. First, he warmed the pot with hot water, which he then discarded. He then put the leaves in the pot with boiling water, poured that water into the pitcher, and discarded it. After that, he poured clean hot water into the pot and waited for thirty seconds to allow the tea to steep before pouring it into the glass pitcher.

This method was considerably different from the one Noah taught him for brewing black tea. Once all of that was done, he poured the tea into the cups.

“It’s ready.” Arcus gracefully offered Ceylan a cup.

Ceylan lifted up the edge of his veil to take a sip. “The aroma is most pleasant, but it is passable at best.”

“Yes, sir. Please accept my deepest apologies.” Arcus lowered his head.

“You ought to work on your tea-brewing skills.”

It was a strange preamble to their meeting, but now that it was done, Ceylan moved on to the main topic.

“Arcus. The thoughts you shared at the war council were impressive. It is not an understatement to say they shaped our final policy.”

“I am beyond grateful to be praised by Your Royal Highness.”

“Mm. That makes this the second time you have saved me. Or perhaps the true number is even higher.” Ceylan laughed again. “Now, at the meeting, you mentioned an idea to create several fake copies of me. I would like you to write down the details of that plan and hand it to me later. The details will need refining, but as a general plan, I feel it may be helpful. Whether it works to lure out Nadar or not, I believe there is merit in trying it out.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. It was not a bad idea by any means, and if you had the right status and achievements, I would not hesitate to use it. However, I could not insult the lords who had gathered by adopting your plan when you lack those things. You understand that, yes?”

If Ceylan had chosen to use Arcus’s plan, which stood in opposition to the ideas that had come up in the meeting so far, Arcus would have found even more attention drawn to him. The lords would likely have thought Arcus was the object of the prince’s favoritism, something which Ceylan had chosen to avoid at the meeting.

“It is enough that you have shared your gracious thoughts with me, sir.”

“Mm. It was a surprise to me that you came up with an idea I would even consider passable. I had to turn your plan down, and that was a result of my underestimation of your abilities.” Ceylan tilted his head upwards and let out a sigh mingled with the aroma of tea.

In other words, Ceylan had lost the opportunity to make full use of Arcus’s idea. It wasn’t just Arcus’s idea, but any similar ideas that the lords might have come up with. To Ceylan, the whole thing might have seemed a little like a joke gone wrong. His words were apologetic in tone, leading Arcus to lower his head.

In this world, to have somebody as high as the prince make such an admission to him was a huge deal. It was probably the closest Ceylan could get to an apology, given his position.

“Incidentally, I understand Count Bowe may be troublesome, but I have no intention of removing him. He is of use to me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“His outbursts at the council may have been foolish, but he was not the only one present whose intuition falls short. With those types, it is best to explain things simply without being condescending.”

“I cannot help feeling sorry for Count Bowe.”

“It is unavoidable. He is too focused on making a name for himself to think things through sufficiently. That did make it easier to put an end to the dispute at the meeting, however,” Ceylan said. “I am afraid we are digressing. I would like to commend you for your achievements up to this point. Your sagacity which helped me escape trouble, and your envisioned plan. Most incredible, however, is your aethometer. I have not felt excitement like I did the day one was delivered to me before or since.”

“It is an honor to use what little capability I have to assist this kingdom and Your Royal Highness.”

“There are not many like you in our kingdom.”

“I still have much to learn and experience. I am sure there are many others like me.”

“You need not abase yourself. You have achieved much for one so young. Your subjectship is a matter of great pride to me.”

Ceylan continued in his praise. It pleased Arcus, but there was something else weighing on him.

“What is the matter? You should be proud of yourself. You are a remarkable child; it would take a search of several nations to find another like yourself. Your achievements have proven as much.”

It was embarrassing. Incredibly embarrassing. Being praised was one thing, but Arcus felt he was being praised too much. It was almost as though Ceylan was trying to tempt Arcus into getting a big head. It wasn’t unheard of to praise somebody to get them in a good mood and curry favor with them so they were more likely to agree with what you said next. It reminded Arcus of the military commander, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, who often employed the same tactic in certain works of fiction. If only Arcus were able to see past Ceylan’s veil, he could get a sense of whether that was happening right now by the prince’s expression.

“I am not quite certain...” Arcus began, but got no further. Those words were enough of a struggle to get out.

Ceylan stood up from his chair and approached Arcus. “Arcus. I have taken a great liking to you. People with your talent are rare, but they are the kind of people I wish to encourage in their activities.”

“As a servant to the royal family, I am exceedingly grateful.”

“Are you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I wish to support your efforts from here on, and I wish for your great success—” Ceylan moved next to Arcus and placed a hand on his shoulder “—as long as you do not defy me.”

With that addendum, Ceylan leaned down to whisper into Arcus’s ear. “Become my lapdog, Arcus. My very faithful lapdog.”

The sweet words tickled against Arcus’s earlobe, and a gasp caught audibly in his throat. He couldn’t believe the prince thought so highly of him to say such things. “Lapdog” seemed such an extreme way of putting it too, but its meaning was clear: Arcus was to throw away all sense of pride, and run with the sole purpose of being fed by the prince. That was all he had to do for success to follow. Ceylan was set to be the next king: the most powerful man in the kingdom. With his backing, there was no question that Arcus would achieve at least a part of what he set out to do.

Yet his head was full of questions. Did he really want to achieve success at the cost of his self-respect?

“Well? A very attractive offer, don’t you think? Either way, my commands are absolute. All you will have to do is what I say, and everything will proceed just as you wish. You will have it all. I fail to see any disadvantages for you.”

“With all due respect, sir, I do not believe I am fit for such a purpose.”

“But I do. I have recognized your talents, and society will soon follow.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you should agree. Agree to become my lapdog,” Ceylan pressed.

Arcus and Ceylan both lived among the upper classes, and while deals such as these were not uncommon, Arcus couldn’t help but feel there was something strange about all of this. From his impressions of Ceylan so far, he just couldn’t picture the prince trying something like this. Both at the audience and at the council, the prince had displayed a strict mindset; working to keep things balanced and just. Would someone like that really try to flatter somebody into becoming an ally? Assuming Arcus’s initial impressions of Ceylan were correct, the prince was more the type to play by the book.

If Arcus was right, then Ceylan wasn’t being genuine. The sweet scent of the prince’s breath still lingered in the air when Arcus opened his mouth determinedly.

“Might I say something, sir?”

“What?”

“I am afraid I am unsure what Your Royal Highness is thinking. Please pardon my rudeness, but I would like to hear Your Royal Highness’s true thoughts.”

Ceylan lowered his tone. “What makes you think these are not my ‘true thoughts’?”

“From what I have seen of Your Royal Highness, such a proposal strikes me as out of character. I can only come to the conclusion that this conversation serves some ulterior purpose.”

If Arcus was wrong, he was about to face the brunt of Ceylan’s wrath—but he didn’t see how he could be. Even then, tension stiffened every muscle in his body. He was even more nervous than when he’d stepped into the room, and now a bead of sweat slithered down the nape of his neck.

Ceylan wasn’t answering. Though Arcus’s mind was still whirring, its movements were stiff and jarring. He waited and waited for Ceylan to speak...only for the prince to start laughing. His laughter seemed to rise in pitch, each note more joyous than the last.

“You are correct! I was testing you!”

Arcus’s knees felt weak with relief. He didn’t even need to release the breath he was holding for the tension to drain from his body. Ceylan’s question had been a probe into his character. That much was a relief, but it was still a cruel thing to do.

Arcus looked at Ceylan, who was letting out a sigh. It was almost as if he was just as nervous as Arcus. Perhaps he had been worried Arcus would agree.

Ceylan returned to his seat. “I do not like to test people in such a manner, but I am afraid my position demands it. You cannot read the full extent of people’s intentions with the naked eye. However, I must admit my relief. You are exactly who I presumed you were.”

“I am just glad I was able to meet Your Royal Highness’s expectations.”

“You are exactly who I presumed you were.”

As Arcus suspected, the prince really did think highly of him. It struck him as odd, considering the two of them hadn’t spent that much time together.

“I must say, it is quite curious how you seem almost unaffected by my test. Most would be overcome with emotion. As though you grew wearier the more I praised you.”

“I beg your pardon for having doubts about Your Royal Highness’s character.”

“It is best that you have those doubts. Allowing your greed to blind you into believing one you know nothing about is foolish.” Ceylan then turned to Arcus with a suggestive hint to his tone.

“Arcus. Do you know who I am?”

Ceylan’s question was a strange one.

“Do you know who I am?”

If Arcus was correct, Ceylan was asking who he was to Arcus. The prince’s back was still turned as he stopped midway to his chair.

“Yes, sir. Your Royal Highness is the crown prince who shall rule over Lainur’s next era.”

“Yes...” Ceylan said softly.

Arcus was aware that his answer was as inoffensive and bland as it could have been, but it was the best he could come up with. The apparent reason for Ceylan’s question came next.

“It is as you say. I am to inherit Lainur. However, unlike my father or even my grandfather, I was born to bring about a new power.”

“A new power?”

“Correct. An impalpable power to force all to fall upon their knees without condition. Where military might, influence, and financial powers do not matter and everything lies within names, lineage, and titles. That is what stirs the hearts of the people. That is what will bring them to trust their leaders. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. I am afraid I am also one who has a misplaced pride in such things.”

If there was any class which benefited from the way authority was structured now, it was the nobles. While the three forms of power Ceylan spoke of played a part, the common folk’s trust and their general ideas of nobles having status—of their word being absolute and their authority unquestionable—also played a role.

Ceylan already held the position and title of crown prince, so why was he speaking as though this new power was even greater than that? The only person in the kingdom who outranked him should have been the king himself, but this power he spoke of sounded like it either gave him just as much influence as the king, or even more.

“I am afraid I am not quite sure what this ‘new power’ Your Royal Highness speaks of alludes to. I would be most grateful to be enlightened on the matter.”

“Mm. This ‘power,’ or authority, if you like... It is not simple to explain, but...” Ceylan turned around to Arcus. “You may understand this. Arcus, I am shén zǐ.”

Arcus looked at the prince and gasped.

“So you do understand. I would expect nothing less.”

Shén zǐ. Ceylan had deliberately used a term from the Elder Tongue. Unlike the man’s world, the common language in this world didn’t have a word for “god.” The very concept of gods didn’t exist in public consciousness, as it was commonly accepted that all creation came about through the Molten Reason. Assuming the Ancient Chronicles were accurate, the sky, earth, mountains, oceans, and everything else were made up of words. The world wasn’t made by somebody deliberately; it first took shape in the uniting and division of words, and as time went on and humans started to thrive, it became what it was now. The answer was right there in the Chronicles, so nobody even considered that there might be a being that created everything of its own volition like in the man’s world. But that didn’t mean such a being didn’t exist.

There was one who set the Molten Reason into motion: Carner Am Lahai. Described only briefly in The Spiritual Age, it was a being worshiped for a short time when Documenting the Stars was being written. That was the closest thing to a god in this world. That being was born from the Molten Reason and then went on to control it. It was described as a being with the power to control all phenomena, and when isolated, the word shén in the Elder Tongue alluded to Carner Am Lahai—it was the nearest approximation of “god” one could express in any of this world’s tongues.

“Does this mean Your Royal Highness has the power to control everything in the world?”

“Correct. I see you remember the being who stirred the Molten Reason,” Ceylan said. “Throughout history, the authority of those rulers who concern themselves only with lineage has gradually declined. Some have even married between different houses over successive generations to strengthen their connections, only to weaken the purity of their royal blood. When one places importance on talent above all else, it ends up making a mockery of their royal rulers, who draw their strength from financial and military powers. I was created to put an end to those people.”

“Is Your Royal Highness saying that your blood contains a power that exceeds His Majesty’s?”

“That is correct.” Ceylan nodded.

Ceylan didn’t elaborate, so Arcus still wasn’t sure what exactly this “power” he spoke of was, but if he was speaking the truth, that blood-borne power would be enough to command the obedience of large swathes of people.

“That is why, in a situation such as this one, I must exceed my father’s authority in my actions. I must make steadfast the power my father created for me.”

“So—”

“Yes. That is why I called these troops together without father’s permission, and why I have made and shall continue to make other, similar exceptions.” Ceylan paused to chuckle. “Of course, that is just how he wants it. He is testing me, so that I may rise to a higher station.”

“Is that why there are so few members of the national military present?”

“No, that is because we are cautious of the Hans and Granciel. Their movements suggest they know of Nadar’s endeavors. If they make any real moves, our reinforcements will be limited.”

It was a problem of scale. The Hans held huge territory in the Cross Mountain Range, and while the southern nation of Granciel preferred fighting by sea, its land forces weren’t to be underestimated. It wasn’t difficult to see how those two, one a nation and one a tribe with the equivalent power of a nation, could pose more of a threat than Porque Nadar, a mere count. It was strange that they were making moves when the information about the Nadar situation was supposed to be contained.

“My destiny is to rule this kingdom. That is why I must desire great power. I must earn the power to command anybody, in order to grant immortality to the Crosellode bloodline,” Ceylan declared passionately.

It was as though he were reaching up to the moon and the sun far off in the sky. He was Don Quixote, who had lost sight of the boundaries between fantasy and reality. Icarus, who was foolishly flying too close to the sun. His convictions were powerful, reaching far beyond what any man should be able to achieve.

While Ceylan may have seemed arrogant, such an attitude was perfectly befitting for a crown prince. It was true that anyone wishing to lead an entire kingdom needed power, and lots of it. Arcus just had one question.

“Why is Your Royal Highness telling me all of this?”

“Arcus. I am in need of reliable allies. Those who do not become drunk on the sweet talk of their superiors, those who are not easily fooled. Those who are able to produce rational thought at all times. Those are the people I wish to surround myself with, and you have not disappointed me.” Ceylan turned again to Arcus. “I want you to lend your power to me, that I might bring my ambitions to fruition.”

This wasn’t like any order he had given to Arcus before. This was a request. It was not an imperative; it was a wish for Arcus to want to help him. If Arcus were a noble who had a family to support, his answer would have been instantaneous. Most nobles would be sobbing for joy at such consideration from their prince. Their prince, one whose authority was unrivaled, needed their help. There was no higher honor in a feudal society.

Arcus was not in that position. He had the man’s memories, and what little he knew about how this world’s society worked was enough that he couldn’t follow authority blindly. That was why, in his heart of hearts, he held doubts. Doubts about accepting the prince’s plea without thinking things through.

He couldn’t make a snap decision; he had no idea what would happen if he agreed to help Ceylan. Whether it would lead to success or destruction. Or, even more pertinent, whether it was right. He just couldn’t figure out what the future would hold if he said yes. He didn’t even know what he wanted to do. Nothing good could come of mindlessly agreeing if he couldn’t even work that much out. And yet Ceylan was the prince. It didn’t matter if it wasn’t technically an order—he was obliged to do as he was told.

Ceylan’s next words saved him.

“You need not give an immediate answer. I am sure you have much on your plate. For the moment, I ask only that you do not forget what I have said.”

“Yes, sir.” Arcus could do nothing more than nod.

Ceylan suddenly spoke again, as though just remembering something. “I still want you by my side during the fight. My guards shall protect you so long as you are with me. My side is the safest place to be on the battlefield.”

“Pardon?”

“Do not act more foolish than you are. Not only will you remain safer, but it will count toward your fighting record when all you need to do is watch. You could not ask for better.”

“I understand that; however...”

“I am sure your achievements will equate to more than just the aethometer. When you attempt to reveal them to the world, there will doubtlessly be those who try to stand in your way. You will likely find yourself stranded. That is not just a problem for you, but for the crown as well.”

Both Arcus and the man had faced people who tried to sabotage them. Ceylan was right to speak of it as a certainty rather than a possibility.

“There are those among the martial houses who care for nothing but one’s achievements on the battlefield. You shall be able to silence them, should you allow this fight to add to your prestige.”

“I am incredibly grateful for Your Royal Highness’s kindness. But won’t there be those paying attention to how I fight during the battle?”

“Hardly.” Ceylan chuckled. “Their attention is firmly fixed on the achievements they themselves stand to gain. If I tell them that you did indeed perform some impressive feats while their backs were turned, they are sure to believe me. That is not to say you should not perform such feats should you so desire. I have heard of your magical proficiency and of the mysterious tool conferred onto you by the Grave Sprite.”

“Oh?”

“Deet informed me when he came to report to me. I heard you sent Gown’s hound after the group that attempted to ambush Louise.”

That made sense. Deet would have needed to give Ceylan every last detail in his report.

Ceylan lowered his head, his veil directing at Arcus’s waist.

“Is that the tool?”

“Yes, sir. This is Gown’s lantern.”

“Mm. I had wondered. I am envious indeed.”

“Sorry?”

“I said nothing. But to meet a creature described within the Chronicles...” Ceylan suddenly clapped his hands together as though an idea had formed in his head. “Yes! I wish to witness it for myself! This location is not ideal; would you allow me to meet Tribe on the training grounds? I should also like to witness your magic.”

Before Arcus knew what was happening, Ceylan had grabbed his arm and was dragging him toward the door. Clearly, he wanted Arcus to do it all right this second. But if they started causing a ruckus on the training grounds this late in the day, it might be mistaken for a surprise attack from the enemy.

“S-Sir! It is already nightfall! I fear we may disturb people by doing this now.”

“I-Is that so? Hmm...” Ceylan seemed genuinely disheartened; Arcus couldn’t see his face, but his shoulders drooped drastically. The next second, he was insisting again. “Just a little cannot possibly hurt. Just a little. If you do not wish to release Tribe, then at least show me some spells.”

Ceylan indicated how much “a little” was with his thumb and forefinger.

“I cannot possibly refuse Your Royal Highness. I am just concerned about how these rambunctious activities might affect our fighting forces as a whole.”

“Hm... Yes, you are correct. I suppose we must give up, although it pains me to do so.” He really did sound disappointed not to be able to see Tribe or Arcus’s magic.

From how Ceylan had acted so far, Arcus thought he was incredibly uptight, but perhaps that aspect didn’t reach to every part of his personality. It was like Arcus had caught a glimpse of the prince’s true age. Even as Ceylan had resigned himself, he mumbled something about “only a little.”

Arcus suddenly remembered something he had been meaning to check with Ceylan.

“Your Royal Highness! I have some vital information to share.”

“What is it?”

“It concerns the assailants we encountered while we were attempting to catch up with Your Royal Highness.”

“The assailants. As I recall, you were able to repel them. Now what is it you must tell me?”

“Their leader was named Eido, sir.”

“Eido...”

“He told us that he holds a grudge against His Majesty, who drove him out from Lainur’s capital twenty years ago. I was wondering whether Your Royal Highness might know anything about that.”

“Indeed I do,” Ceylan answered immediately. Arcus’s eyes widened in surprise at the readiness of his response. “Father often described to me the terrible state the capital was in when he was young. I have heard the name ‘Eido’ several times alongside the names of the magicians Crucible and Stronghold. While the capital had fallen into ruin, this man Eido stood strong with a faithful heart.”

“Is that so?”

“Indeed. I am told the state of the capital was such that one cannot imagine it looking at the city now. Father and his companions labored mightily to restore peace, and Eido never withheld his assistance.”

“Eido said His Majesty betrayed his trust. Could that be true?”

“Do you believe it to be true?”

“I believe it to be imprudent to forge a conclusion based on a single side of a story. However, I did not feel that he was lying when he spoke. I had the sense that there was more to his story.”

“I do not know what Eido told you, but it sounds as though he has misapprehended something.”

Ceylan went on to explain the version of events he heard from Shinlu; why Shinlu had no choice but to drive Eido from the capital. There were likely some gaps in the story Ceylan had filled in with intuition, but otherwise it was persuasive and coherent.

“That is shocking,” Arcus said.

“I know father never shared his reasoning with Eido because he felt that was wiser, given Eido’s character.”

If what Ceylan said was true, then there was just one thing to do.

“Sir.”

“Yes, I know. It is necessary to share this story with Eido. I would not like to see him remain mistaken any longer myself.”

“Perhaps a search should be arranged.”

“No, that is unnecessary. Eido will show himself to me before too long.”

“Does Your Royal Highness mean to say Eido is targeting you?”

“Indeed. Were it not such dreary reasoning, I might suggest he means to put an end to my life personally. However, this is a man who fought with my father when they were younger. More likely, he intends to capture me to lure father out.”

Arcus agreed that Eido wasn’t the type to be satisfied with a simple revenge killing, so Ceylan was probably closer to the mark with his idea, but even that didn’t seem enough to satisfy his desire for revenge. King Shinlu was the most powerful magician in all of Lainur; even if Eido managed to kill him, Eido himself wouldn’t last much longer. If that was what Eido was really after, he must have been absolutely desperate.

“I understand your concerns about Eido, but I should ask you to focus on the upcoming battle for now.”

“Yes, sir! Understood.”

“Mm. I shall expect your steadfast loyalty.”

His conversation with Ceylan over, Arcus left the prince’s room behind.

Once Arcus left, a shadowy figure appeared in that silent room. Its hair was long and peach-colored; its eyes a light shade of violet. It wore silver-framed glasses and the same uniform as the male Imperial guard, despite being a woman.

It was Lisa Lauzei, Chief Officer of the Surveillance Office. She stepped out from behind the furnishings in the room, but Ceylan did not look surprised to see her, as though he had known she was there this entire time.

“I ended up lying to him.” Ceylan sat back in his chair, took a sip from his teacup, and sighed ruefully.

“Please forgive me, sir, for forcing such a lie to leave Your Royal Highness’s lips.”

“Worry not. It was father who ordered you to stay by my side, was it not?”

“Correct, sir.” Lisa lowered her head.

Ceylan’s guess was correct; Shinlu had ordered Lisa to guard him from the shadows. To her, and indeed to the royal family themselves, an order from the king was more important than one’s own life; even if Ceylan didn’t like it, she had no choice but to follow it.

“He brought up Eido,” Ceylan said.

“We shall search for him. As long as he is after Your Royal Highness’s life, we must find out his location at the very least.”

“I shall leave the matter to you. I suspect it will be no easy feat.”

“I understand.”

“And do not kill him. Father did not, when he had the opportunity.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ceylan tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling for a while. “I must be careful not to let sentiment cloud my judgment.”

“I can well understand how Your Royal Highness feels.” Lisa dipped her head again. “Sir, might I ask about one thing?”

“What is it?”

“Your Royal Highness shared certain important personal information with Arcus Raytheft. He is still a young child. I would not go so far as to call the sharing of secrets with him careless, but perhaps it was...a little rash?”

A thin smile rose to Ceylan’s lips. “A young child, you say? You realize the same description applies to me, do you not?”

“Your Royal Highness will rule over this kingdom’s next generation. He is a mere noble boy, and not even a high-ranking one. It would be discourteous to compare him to you, sir.”

“Lisa. I do not care for your present manner of speaking. Arcus is no ordinary child. You of all people would do well to understand that.”

“Yes, sir.”

Arcus had put Lisa in a tricky spot in the incident with Marquess Gaston. She had been late to the scene and nothing more, but she still felt a little put out by being beaten to the punch. It was then that she tried to tell herself that Arcus wasn’t ordinary, but she still found it difficult to wrap her head around.

“Do you still think Arcus is not worthy of the knowledge I shared with him after witnessing our conversation together?”

“That is correct, sir.”

“Hmm...” Ceylan returned his gaze to the marble table as though replaying his conversation with Arcus in his mind. “Arcus was struggling.”

“Struggling, sir?”

“I told Arcus I would like him to lend me his power. He hesitated.”

“He was struggling to come to a decision?”

It was a request from the prince; rude wasn’t a strong enough word for the indecision Arcus displayed. Normally Ceylan would not hesitate to strongly condemn such behavior, but he had been lenient this time. It was a noble’s duty to accept a royal family member’s orders without deliberation, no matter the situation. Any noble child would have had that drilled into them from birth.

Arcus had hesitated in a display of pure arrogance. He had threatened the union between nobility and country, and as far as Lisa was concerned, should be punished for it.

“That is who he is. He would have considered more than what was to happen to him, such as what I was planning.”

“Sir! That is as good as doubting the Crown! The Crown’s word is absolute, and as its subject, he should have accepted without question! Allowing oneself unnecessary thought is incredibly arrogant!” Lisa insisted, her voice creeping up in volume.

“Calm down,” Ceylan said quietly. “You are embarrassing yourself.”

“Yes, sir. Please forgive me for my display of passion.” Lisa bowed her head.

“I do not believe Arcus regards the Crown’s authority as absolute. He likely sees us as a more powerful version of the regional monarchs: a lineage that has been granted sovereignty over its territory that it has passed down through its descendants.”

“I fail to comprehend such thinking. If he really holds such contempt for Your Royal Highness, what is there to stop him rebelling like Cau Gaston or Porque Nadar?”

“You mean to say he must have an unshakable faith in the Crown?”

“More than ‘faith.’ All nobility must have absolute loyalty, or they will start to think less of the Crown, and eventually come to resent it.”

“Without regarding the Crown’s authority as absolute, he will be able to entertain superfluous thought, which will lead to a stronger focus on self-interest. He will then make decisions based on the benefit to himself, which will lead him to think less of the Crown. That is your argument, yes?”

“I believe Cau Gaston proved as much.”

“And therefore Arcus will also become rebellious? If that is true, then I must wonder how many traitors we harbor within the kingdom at present. I expect the number to be beyond human imagination.”

“Sir...”

“Lisa. If the Crown’s rule is indeed absolute, and everybody has an unquenchable loyalty toward its rule, then that would contradict my very existence. I should like to ask you something. What is my purpose here? Speak.”

“Your Royal Highness’s purpose is to solidify the Crown’s power further.”

“Precisely. In which case, it is only natural for traitors such as Cau Gaston and Porque Nadar to exist.”

Lisa stayed silent. King Shinlu had created the new power that was Ceylan because he feared that the Crown’s rule was close to fracturing. As time went by, Lainur’s neighbors only grew more threatening, and during the previous king’s reign, the Empire even took over several strongholds and snatched the kingdom’s most precious treasure, the Sword of the Radiant Heavens. Shinlu already knew the nobility’s faith in the Crown was compromised. Denying that meant denying Ceylan’s existence itself.

“However, I believe there is still a strong possibility that Arcus Raytheft has not made up his mind,” Lisa said. “Deciding to keep him close may be premature when there is still a chance he may turn treasonous. If I may, sir, I believe there would be vital merit in reassessing the situation.”

Ceylan dismissed Lisa’s concerns at once. “Do you mean to suggest Arcus may betray me? Impossible.”

There wasn’t a hint of doubt in the prince’s tone. It was as if his confidence came from more than simple trust.

“Sir?”

“What? It is impossible. Arcus shall always work for my sake. He shall always be there to assist me. You should know that, yes?”

“Well, yes...”

Lisa did know that, but what troubled her was that it was a fact borne of coincidence. That doubt stuck in her throat and remained unspoken. Now wasn’t the time.

There were a few moments of silence as Ceylan reflected upon what he knew of Arcus.

“Arcus. You are incredible indeed. You are just who I thought you were,” he sighed toward the ceiling, a hint of rapture in his tone.

Rapture and, to Lisa’s ears, a subtle melancholy.