After a night of fierce fighting, the gates of Caria Manor finally creaked open.
Several Troll knights had cloaks torn to varying degrees. Some even had shattered Knight Helms that had been replaced with brand-new ones. They led a group of round-headed Albinauric beings toward the royal stronghold, all of them looking utterly worn out and caked in grime. It was obvious they hadn't slept any better than anyone else the night before.
Reinforcing the troops was one issue, but the walls and buildings also needed manpower for repairs. The most pressing problem, however, was that the Royal Domain now held more prisoners than soldiers, and simply releasing them wasn't an option.
The lands beyond were under Cuckoo control. Let them go now, and the next time they met, they would be enemies again without question. Execution was out of the question as well. These people were originally Caria's own subjects, driven onto the battlefield only because they had no other choice.
In times like these, the weak rarely had any say in their fate, and the Cuckoos were a particularly inhumane bunch.
Yet keeping the prisoners inside the fortress posed its own dangers. With so few hands available, proper supervision was difficult. One accident was all it would take for everything to spiral out of control.
"So what do you think we should do?"
Raziel let out a deep sigh. His dark eyes were filled with exhaustion and helplessness as he spoke to the knight before him, his brow tightly furrowed. Despite having just won a resounding victory, he looked more like someone who had suffered a crushing defeat, an oddly unsettling sight.
In the past, such a reaction might have seemed like false modesty, but now it was a real problem Caria had no choice but to face.
"Try to get as many to surrender as possible," Nolan said. "Lock up the rest, or put them to work under guard. What other options do we have?"
He took the tent from the knight's hands. What had once been a neat, orderly camp now barely had a single intact wall left standing. Without this tent, he and his teacher would probably be sleeping on a pile of rubble tonight.
"Besides, you're the commander. Why are you asking me about this?"
"I believe that one day, you'll replace me and become the true leader of this army."
Raziel spoke with sudden emotion. Afterward, he raised a jug of wine and drained it in one gulp, his boldness seeming to spread through the air itself.
"Replacing you won't be my turn," Nolan said, rolling his eyes. "I'm just a guest commander."
No matter how he heard it, that sounded dangerous. If he hadn't sensed any killing intent, he might have thought Raziel was about to smash the jug as a signal, with dozens of hidden axe-wielders leaping out to hack him to pieces without a word.
"What's wrong with being a guest commander? Ever heard of Jerren? He's a Carian Knight too," Raziel said with a grin.
"When the Redmane Army passed through Liurnia of the Lakes, he went to serve as a guest commander."
"They say he fought bravely on the battlefield and eventually rose to become a general."
He didn't see his former comrade's choice as betrayal in the slightest. After all, General Radahn was not only the Starscourge General of the Golden Order Dynasty, but also a prince of the Carian Royal Family, the Queen's own son.
Hearing the name, Nolan raised an eyebrow.
Jerren was a name he knew well. In the game, he was the famous Witch Hunter who pursued the "Graven Witch" Sellen for her research into the Origin. But now, Sellen hadn't been hunted by the Academy for studying the Origin. She had come to the royal domain merely for "advanced studies," so for the time being, there shouldn't be any life-or-death conflict between them.
"Whether he becomes a general or not depends entirely on Her Highness the Princess," Nolan said. "This city isn't yours, so you don't need to worry about it."
"That's true. Then I'll be on my way. Last night's battle needs to be reported to Her Highness in person."
Raziel waved his hand and turned to leave, only to be grabbed by the knight behind him. He turned back in confusion as Nolan said irritably,
"Wait. Why is there only one tent?"
Nolan glanced at the tent slung over his shoulder. It was clearly large enough for two people, made with excellent materials and craftsmanship, and completely opaque from the outside.
"Supplies are tight," Raziel said, looking uncomfortable. "You've been sharing with your teacher for so long already. What's wrong with squeezing in a bit more?"
As he spoke, his eyes flicked toward Sellen, who stood not far away, glancing around restlessly.
"Besides, aren't I doing this to spare your feelings? Or could it be that you've already…"
Before he could finish, the shameless guy actually showed a trace of pity in his eyes, then shook his head with a sigh of regret.
"Of course not. Since you're being so thoughtful, I really should thank you," Nolan snapped, teeth clenched.
"No need to thank me." Raziel flashed a crooked grin, then turned and bolted, disappearing in the blink of an eye.
So the brat knows what he did was out of line, huh?
Nolan glanced at his teacher standing not far away, lost in thought, and rubbed his forehead.
It seemed their reputation as a master-and-apprentice pair was beyond saving in the Caria Army.
Nolan easily shouldered the pile of supplies by himself. He took Sellen's hand and led the way toward the encampment.
Pitching a tent was basic training in the army, something Nolan had long since mastered. With practiced movements and his impressive strength, a sturdy tent was soon set up in the camp.
The witch teacher, who had been busy thinking her own thoughts, didn't lift a finger. Once her well-behaved apprentice finished everything, she stretched extravagantly and flopped straight onto the bed.
The beautiful sorceress lay sprawled out in a starfish pose. The hem of her dirt-stained robe had rolled up without her noticing, revealing a pair of pale legs as smooth as white jade.
Letting his gaze drift upward, he caught sight of her graceful curves, her gentle features, and her bright eyes.
Restlessness was instinct. After all, he hadn't exactly lived a chaste life back in Dark Souls. Still, instinct alone wasn't enough to overpower reason.
"Teacher, you should pay a bit more attention to your image in front of others."
"Apprentice, why bother caring about what outsiders think?" Sellen replied lazily. "In my opinion, you put far too much weight on such external things."
She propped herself up with both hands and patted the bed beneath her.
"Besides, you're not an outsider. Come over and try it. This bed is quite comfortable."
"Didn't you just say not to put too much importance on external things?"
The double tent was spacious enough, but there was only one bed.
Nolan rolled his eyes inwardly, silently complaining about the unreasonable setup, yet his body still lay down naturally. The softness of the mattress made him relax a little.
"That's different. After observing our shared living arrangements over the past year, I've found that a good environment improves research efficiency."
Sellen put on a serious scholar's expression, then suddenly seemed to remember something and said solemnly,
"In my view, your low research efficiency comes from too many stray thoughts. It's a shame I don't know Seluvis's Puppet Magic, otherwise I could help you…"
"Stop, stop. Aren't you tired? Let's just sleep," Nolan said quickly.
Judging by her expression, his teacher was about to say something outrageous again, so he cut her off without hesitation.
The Young Lady of the Painting was still waiting at home. A Promised Consort had no need for that sort of thing.