Take 2. Middle of the Vernis Mountains (Day/Outside).
Leonardo and his group successfully rescue the field troops. After raiding and destroying the Dragonbone Quarry, they escape. However, due to the long period of captivity endured by the field troops, their mobility is limited….
Crack!
A sharp pain surged through, the sensation of nerve endings sizzling, shaking my brain. Forced to stop interpreting the text, I quickly hunched over, and as the wave of pain passed, it left my insides feeling like a muddy mess.
However, it was a harvest worth enduring the discomfort.
'He succeeded in getting the field army out.'
It was strange that Leonardo had moved personally. Didn't this differ quite a bit from the plan we had originally discussed?
In order to handle things as carefully as possible, Raul infiltrated and secretly helped the field army escape, and in the middle, Leonardo joined in with a plan to disappear.
'…Was he in a hurry?'
Or perhaps the situation had changed rapidly.
Still, one thing was fortunate: Even though it was a temporary measure, Leonardo's group had destroyed the dragonbone quarry, so the nameless ones wouldn't be able to keep offering their tribute for long.
Relieved by this thought, as I buried my face into the pillow, someone opened the door and entered. It wasn't hard to guess who it was.
"Your condition keeps getting better and worse. What can we do to boost your spirits, huh?"
'Does he still not know?'
From the fact that he hadn't returned to the stage yet, it seemed like he wasn't aware of what had happened at the quarry.
I was torn between whether to let Godric stay in Kargasthol or send him outside and focus on the escape.
I could keep pretending I was still sick to hold him here longer, or if my condition seemed to improve, I could send him back to the stage anytime.
Before I knew it, the roles had somehow been reversed.
I never imagined things would turn out like this on the first day of the kidnapping.
It had been about… six days since I was captured and brought to Kargasthol.
If I count by how often meals were brought, it's probably been about that long. Of course, there could be some margin of error. Time flew by while I kept pretending to be sick.
So, what did my daily routine look like while I was lying around in the detached palace under the guise of illness?
Well, it's a bit embarrassing to say it like this, but—
'Honestly, aside from wrestling with the scenario notes, I haven't done anything remotely productive.'
Eating, sleeping, washing up, napping again, then taking a walk.
"If you get some fresh air, you'll feel better."
Godric wrapped me up in the blanket and held me in his arms. It felt like being aboard a gently drifting boat. Just like that, he headed toward the back garden and set me down on the grass.
Since I didn't need to worry about staining the blankets, I used the mattress like a cloak. It was heavy from the thick fur, but that weight actually made it easier to pull off the act of weakly dragging my feet.
As usual, Godric offered his arm so I could lean on him while walking. Even though we were only lazily strolling through the back garden, he wouldn't let me walk on my own.
And whenever we walked like this, he would often talk.
"There isn't a decent pavilion in this palace. Just a tiny gazebo that could barely fit ten people, at that."
'Isn't that more than enough for a gazebo?'
Maybe it was because he was an emperor—his sense of scale seemed fundamentally different.
'…Or maybe it was for another reason.'
He paused for a moment, bending slightly to look at a branch budding with flower clusters. Then, without warning, he whispered softly,
"Watching you suffer all night… it reminded me of an old friend. It's been a while since I thought of them."
I stopped beside him and listened quietly.
"They ended up passing away—writhing in pain until the very end."
Even while recalling the final moments of someone he called a friend, Godric spoke with the nonchalance of a storyteller passing down a fable from mouth to mouth.
I broke the silence.
"What were they sick with?"
At that, Godric covered his mouth and let out a quiet laugh, as though the question itself was amusing.
"Hmm? They weren't exactly human."
"…"
"The royal bloodline doesn't take humans as friends. Humans are born greedy, full of doubt, and always capable of betrayal. Not because they're evil—but because they're weak. It's fine to rule them or keep them as subordinates, but to call them a friend? That's another matter entirely."
Godric spoke gently, as though explaining an obvious truth, and softly brushed his hand along my cheek.
"The royal bloodline, instead, made companions of auspicious beasts. My companion was so large, it needed a pavilion the size of a palace."
He pointed to opposite ends of the back garden.
"It had jet-black scales and a body as massive as a mountain. It behaved with a certain dignity, but… every now and then, it'd act disgracefully when no one was watching. It would roll its long body across the garden, crushing all the grass—then feign innocence with this prim little attitude."
As he spoke, I pictured it in my mind—a large, majestic beast.
"A dragon?"
Godric smiled as if that were the most natural answer.
"What else would it be, if not a dragon? When it comes to the royal family, dragons are only fitting companions. Although… people around here seem to tremble at just hearing the word dragon."
He wore a slightly indifferent look, perhaps recalling the dreaded dragon Vernis. Understandable—an emperor who was raised with a dragon might find this world's concept of a "dragon" rather unimpressive.
Watching his expression, I spoke again.
"You still haven't answered… Why was it sick?"
His smile faded, replaced by a detached, static look. Then Godric answered simply:
"It was poisoned."
Assassination.
"It was unheard of—an emperor ascending the throne without a dragon. How could someone who couldn't even protect the lifelong companion granted by the heavens possibly govern a vast empire? From the moment he lost his dragon, he was nothing more than a husk."
Then, Godric turned to me and leaned in close.
"So? Do I seem a little pitiful now?"
"…Does it matter what I think?"
I replied curtly, and Godric's eyes softened with a gentle curve.
"Of course it matters."
He lifted my hand and guided it to his cheek, letting me feel the shape of his face through my touch. Reluctantly, I left my hand there.
Even though I didn't respond in words, it seemed that was enough of an answer for Godric.
The walk resumed, and I was left alone with my thoughts.
'Clever.'
It isn't hard to tell the truth while still wrapping it in lies.
All it takes is leaving out certain pieces—people will fill in the blanks with their own imaginations.
Orlie once said…
[He didn't much like talking about his own story.]
What kind of story played out on the stage that has now vanished?
'A revenge tragedy.'
[The prince who lost his dragon was consumed by rage, and began killing the dragons of every other contender.]
[He killed, and killed, and killed again—until not a single dragon remained in the empire.]
[And so, the first emperor without a dragon rose to the throne, bringing an end to the age of dragons.]
[So that his dragon would be remembered in history as the last imperial dragon.]
Godric was not powerless. He was not innocent, either. If he had been even a little weak, he could never have killed so many.
And this wasn't just a tale confined to the stage he originated from. His path has repeated itself here as well.
The original owners of the bodies the writers had borrowed—Butier and Orlie—had both died amidst the chaos.
More directly than that—
He drove the Countess of Ertinez, the mother of three children, to her death.
He killed the grandfather of Duke Marchez—
And countless more. Their families. Their friends.
He… killed Leovald.
If I weren't the one holding the
If I weren't the vessel for the things Godric sought to possess—
He would've killed me without the slightest hesitation.
That is why I cannot pity Godric.
He's already come too far down this path.
That night, I lay in bed, pretending to be slightly better. Godric, wearing a robe, lay beside me once again under the pretense of lulling me to sleep. He patted my back, said not a word, simply breathed beside me.
I slowly closed my eyes, feigning sleep.
And after what felt like hours—
Godric finally left my side.
He'd be gone for a while now; it would be hard for him to return quickly.
The doorknob creaked, and a figure with a donut-shaped head peeked through the door.
Or rather, the assistant writer borrowing that servant's body.
"Sir Orlie."
He nodded, a large butcher's knife—something you'd expect from a kitchen—gripped in his hand.
"Just bear with it a little longer."
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Thud! Thud, thud!
After several hard strikes, crack! — the bedpost finally snapped.
Freeing the shackle itself had been difficult, but breaking the thick bedpost it was attached to took relatively less effort.
I quickly gathered up the long chain, coiling it tightly and holding it against my chest.
No need to worry about what would happen when Godric came back and saw the mess.
'Props always reset to their original state.'
As long as I returned in time to re-break the bedpost and discreetly hook the shackle back in place, it'd be fine. No glue or woodworking needed.
Rolling my ankle to ease the stiffness of the cuffs, I looked over at Orlie.
"First… can you lead me to the prison?"
***
Take 3. Ruins of the Old Castle in the Vernis Mountains (Day/Outside).
Meanwhile, tension escalates at the ruins.
Duke Marchez: "Did you say the king hasn't left his quarters?"
Knight 1: "Yes. It's been over half a day since anyone last saw him. Some nobles are already in a panic, suspecting he may have fled alone."
Duke Marchez: "How strange…"
At that moment, a knight rushes in.
Knight 2 (urgently): "Your Grace! A horse is missing from the stables! And…
Duke Marchez: "And?"
Knight 2: "The young boy—Vittorio—he's gone."
Take 4. Mid-slope of the Vernis Mountains (Night/Outside).
Worn out from injuries, the field army decides they need to recover. Leonardo, with the help of Archbishop Butier, reveals his true form.
Archbishop Butier: "Changing the shell doesn't blur the essence, you know."
Shield-bearer Paulo: "So… do we have to call you my lord now?"
Spearman Raul: "Must be nice being that simple-minded~!"
Suddenly, the group spots a figure approaching across the snowy mountain pass.
Shield-bearer Paulo: "Enemy?"
Leonardo, immediately stepping out from the shelter, gathers the child into his arms.
Leonardo: "Vittorio?"
Vittorio, the Street Urchin: (in tears, urgently) "I-Isaac… the king took him!"
Scenario Clear Condition: [Leonardo's group successfully rescues the First Field Army.]
[Time until next scenario assignment: 8 hours 0 minutes][Error Detected!]
[■■■■■■■...….]
[Scenario standby time expired! A new scenario has been assigned.]