The man who spoke to the king was the Supreme Commander, a man in his thirties. After the previous king passed away five years ago, this talented individual had taken the position of Supreme Commander at a remarkably young age.
"Muu…"
The king only groaned and gave no clear answer. It would be more accurate to say he *couldn't* answer. After all, he had never been enthusiastic about this war in the first place.
Since the time of the previous king — his father — the two nations had continued a pointless conflict limited to small skirmishes on the border plains. They would inflict a few dozen casualties on each other and then refrain from escalating further. Over the years, a strange sense of camaraderie had even begun to form between the two sides. A few years ago, they had even invited the Goussel Marquis family to the capital in an attempt to deepen friendly relations.
(Just why has it come to this…?)
The face of a single boy rose in the king's mind.
(Rigel von Goussel…!)
