"How many field army soldiers were trapped?"
"The ones detained there weren't just regular soldiers. They were the direct unit that operated under the commander. The rest went back home—to farm, fish, and do things like that. Those guys are just fools who refuse to believe their commander could be dead."
"Ah."
So that meant Leovald had a good reputation among his subordinates.
Well, of course. He was reliable and dependable—why wouldn't they trust him?
Since their bond was so strong, explaining that Leonardo was actually Leovald might not be that difficult. At least in this regard, there was some hope.
Raul muttered under his breath.
"No wonder they don't believe it. To them, their commander is some kind of terrifying monster from legend… or maybe even immortal. They say he was raised by wolves as a child or that he grew up drinking the milk of a beast."
Maybe it was the kind of joke meant to flatter a superior—a sort of heroic tale. Stories like that tend to spread through word of mouth. It was actually a rather endearing anecdote.
As Leonardo listened with a small smile, Raul let out a deep sigh.
"This is hopeless…"
Saying something so random—was it because the rescue plan felt too daunting?
"Anyway, it's a cave, right?"
"Yeah. The entrance is narrow and leads in one direction, making it hard to approach. If the prisoners disappear, they'll notice immediately."
Leonardo set down the makeshift iron, the heated stones inside clattering softly, and stepped closer.
"What about security levels?"
"They don't eat, they don't sleep, and they never take their eyes off the prisoners. There's barely any opening."
Barely. That meant it wasn't completely impenetrable. Leonardo caught on to the same detail and sharpened his focus.
"The only time I noticed a gap was when the guards were transferring them. When they're taking the prisoners back to the Dragon's Head, they get busy preparing the transport wagons."
"So, sneaking them out unnoticed is impossible?"
"I'm saying it's realistically difficult. We should hurry. I don't know if it's the dragon bone's energy messing with them, but their condition is getting worse…"
Raul made a bitter expression.
"I've already sent word."
"Directly?"
"No. I marked the message, like Paulo did. They probably burned or destroyed it to erase any trace. I wasn't trying to give them false hope, but even for those guys, waiting indefinitely would be tough."
Leonardo gave a small nod.
"The timing has to be just right. Even if we manage to pull off the rescue, hiding them afterward will be difficult. It won't take long before they're discovered, and that guy, Godric will make his move."
As I muttered, studying the map, I suddenly felt Raul and Leonardo's gazes land on me. Leonardo blinked silently, while Raul looked slightly dumbfounded.
"…What? What is it?"
"No, it's just… you called him 'that guy, Godric' just now."
Raul asked, sounding puzzled.
"You suddenly sound way more familiar with him. Did something happen while I wasn't around?"
"Did I?"
Leonardo also nodded subtly and added,
"Before, you usually said 'the king' or 'him.'"
Well, after being pestered this much, wasn't it natural for my way of addressing him to become a little less formal?
…Thinking back, though, even Leonardo and Raul, who were openly hostile toward Godric, and even Count Ertinez, had never referred to him so casually.
'Must've gotten too used to him constantly interfering through the messenger window. The name I'd been calling him in my head must've slipped out unconsciously.'
At its core, it was probably just the difference between me and the people of this world, whose social hierarchy was ingrained in their minds. Shrugging it off as nothing, I saw Raul quickly lose interest.
"Anyway, we'll need at least a small platoon for the rescue mission. Considering the injured, we'll also need a carriage or medics."
"Let's focus on deciding the timing and method first."
Just then, a voice called from outside.
"My lord, a royal attendant has arrived to escort you."
Ah, the banquet.
Officially, it was a feast the king was hosting to honour the nobles and knights for their ten days of hard work. In reality, it was also a stage to compare the results of each subjugation force and stoke competition.
I shrugged and turned to Leonardo—only for a hesitant, confused voice to interrupt from beyond the tent.
"…and Your Grace?"
"Tell them I'll be out shortly."
"That's not it. The attendant… is looking for your aide. They specifically asked if the dark-haired aide was here."
"…Isaac?"
Among our group, the only ones with dark hair were Vittorio and me.
And Leonardo only had one aide by his side.
Stepping out of the tent, I spotted the royal attendant standing in the middle of the encampment set up by the Ertinez knights.
He wore pointed shoes and clothes unsuited for these dirt roads, his face a lifeless mask of neutrality. The moment he saw me, he bowed and extended something toward me.
A box. Something was inside.
Straightening his posture, the attendant spoke.
"His Majesty has ordered me to deliver this. If you wish to attend the banquet, you should begin preparing now. His Majesty has sent a servant to assist you, so please allow them to help."
A thought flickered through my mind—hadn't Godric made a comment about me not having a personal attendant?
Before I could respond, a hand reached out from behind, blocking the space between me and the royal attendant.
Leonardo, his tone calm yet firm, intercepted the pushy messenger.
"The Ertinez household has more than enough hands for preparation. We decline."
"Excuse me, my lord, but I understand that the Count's household did not bring any servants."
"…I don't recall ever reporting that, so I'm not sure how you reached that conclusion."
It was true that we hadn't brought a servant, but we had never openly stated it. As Leonardo silently pressed him further, the attendant's lips pressed into a thin line.
I glanced toward the Marchez household's outpost nearby before asking the attendant,
"Have similar courtesies been extended to other noble houses?"
The attendant, stiff as ever, subtly shifted his gaze.
"…No, they have not."
"Then wouldn't it be easy to misinterpret this as preferential treatment toward the Ertinez household?"
"His Majesty did not extend his courtesy to a particular household—he extended it to you specifically."
Godric, you bastard. You're really going all out, huh?
How was I supposed to explain why the king had personally singled out a commoner aide accompanying Leonardo?
'No matter how I spin the backstory, it won't make sense.'
Frowning in irritation, I watched as the attendant remained rooted in place, showing no sign of backing down. He was less like a person and more like a machine, moving solely by the will of his orders.
While the attendant stood his ground like an unyielding statue, the atmosphere around Leonardo grew steadily heavier.
I'd never once thought of him as authoritarian, but the pressure radiating from behind me was becoming impossible to ignore. Yet, even under that suffocating weight, the attendant maintained his rigid posture as he silently opened the box to reveal its contents.
Inside lay neatly folded garments. Perfectly fitted shoes, accessories to complement the outfit, and even gloves—everything was meticulously prepared.
'You've got to be kidding me…'
"I already have something to wear, courtesy of the Count's household."
Well, technically I didn't pack anything myself—the Ertinez servants had thrown in a few of Leonardo's old clothes while preparing his luggage. Something from when he was a few years younger, maybe?
With a pleasant smile, I pushed the box back toward the attendant, and for the first time, I saw his expression waver.
"…Are you refusing His Majesty's gift?"
I don't need it.
"I'm simply saying it would be more useful to someone else. Besides, I'm not a noble—I'm just the young master's aide. There's no reason for me to attend the banquet tonight."
The attendant froze as if he'd heard something completely beyond his expectations.
The flickering light deep in the attendant's pupils blinked erratically, and his dual eyelids trembled unnaturally, as if a signal had misfired. Then, in a hollow voice, he spoke.
"You may refuse a trivial gift."
"…"
"But you wouldn't want to miss that gathering."
Was this just an attempt to drag me in with a cryptic remark?
As much as I had observed Godric while he interfered with me, he had likely done the same in return. He must have figured out what situations would compel me to act.
Annoying as it was, his words had done their job—now I couldn't ignore the matter entirely. If Godric had arranged something, I needed to be there to respond immediately. Even if I could receive information through
"I'll pass on the generous gift."
The attendant accepted the box back without protest.
"Then, we shall see you at the banquet."
Being so thoroughly analyzed was an unpleasant feeling.
In the end, the attendant had achieved at least a partial victory before withdrawing. Leonardo, having shaken off the earlier oppressive atmosphere, now looked at me with an expression of sheer indignation—like a puppy that had just had its treat stolen.
"…Why is the king…?"
"No idea. But let's talk somewhere else, yeah?"
There were too many eyes watching to have this conversation out in the open. Clearing my throat, I tugged Leonardo back inside the tent.
Inside, Vittorio and Raul, who had definitely overheard everything, were staring at me in shock—mouths slightly agape.
Raul, trembling with barely contained outrage, raised a finger and pointed at me.
"You, you…!"
"This is just a minor misunderstanding."
"You seduced the king—! That's not something a person should do!"
…What? Who seduced who?
Has he gone crazy after wandering the mountains alone for ten days?
Vittorio, looking just as bewildered, reached over and wrapped his hand around Raul's accusing finger, gently pulling it down.
Thanks, kid. I didn't actually do anything to deserve being pointed at like that.
"It's something else entirely," I said. "I'm not some old acquaintance of Godric's, and I'm definitely not working with him."
"You just—! You called him by name!"
Raul stomped his foot in frustration. He wasn't actually angry—his tone had that mix of joking and half-serious suspicion—but it still felt uncomfortable.
"I'm telling you, it's not like that."
Leonardo, who had been watching in silence, finally stepped in, his voice firm as he moved to mediate the situation.
"He said it's a misunderstanding. Keep yourself in check."
Only after hearing his superior's command did Raul finally deflate—though Leonardo, of all people, was now looking at me with a nervous expression.
Alright. Time to explain myself.
Why am I always the one stuck cleaning up after the messes the supporting cast throws at me?
Annoying. Seriously.