Chapter 120: Setting the Stage
"Your Majesty." Prime Minister Bergmann cut across Lucian's rhythm.
The old man took two steps forward, his wrinkled face arranging itself into an expression of profound pain.
"It is all my own incompetence — I have failed to spare Her Majesty this burden. If I were twenty years younger, I would take to the field myself and fight those beastmen to the death..."
He paused and dabbed at the corner of his eye with his sleeve. Tears came, obligingly, right on cue. The man had truly earned his reputation as a performer.
"But as things stand, I'm afraid these old bones of mine would only cause trouble on the battlefield."
Lucian watched the Prime Minister's vivid and heartfelt performance. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly.
Here it comes.
He knew this routine far too well. The queen does the pitiful act, then the prime minister comes in to play the second part.
Sure enough, the Prime Minister pivoted.
"And so, this old man presumes to beseech Lord Aindra." He turned toward Lucian and bowed deeply, the silver-white hair falling forward with the motion. "On this occasion — would your lordship be willing to lead a decapitation mission?"
Lucian's brow drew in.
"A decapitation mission?"
"Precisely." The Prime Minister straightened, meeting Lucian's eyes with a look of all-or-nothing resolve. "The beastmen's incursion this time is of an entirely different scale from previous years. According to intelligence from the front, the beastman king himself is very likely commanding in person."
He paused, as though completing a final calculation.
"If he can be killed, their army will inevitably fall into disarray. Even if we cannot drive them off entirely, we can at least buy the Dragon Kingdom time to breathe."
Lucian was quiet for a moment.
He glanced at Draudillon.
The queen was looking up at him, those eyes still carrying traces of tears — now full of hope and supplication, every line of her bearing projecting I'm helpless, please protect me.
"Count Lucian..." She was speaking so softly she seemed like she might be blown away. "I know this request is too much to ask. But I truly have no other option. Mr. Serabure of Crystal Tears is strong, but he alone would probably not be a match for the beastman king. So..."
Lucian looked at that small, pitiable face, then at the Prime Minister beside her performing his deepest variation on I only regret being too old to act.
Really?
He commented to himself.
Do I actually look that gullible? One loli makes a request and I go charging off to do something this dangerous? That kind of person doesn't exist.
But on second thought —
This was precisely the excuse he needed.
He had already needed a reason to go deep into the front lines and voluntarily take significant risks. And here were the queen and prime minister, delivering that opportunity to him directly.
Lucian drew a slow breath. An expression surfaced on his face — the particular look of though this is very difficult, for the sake of protecting someone I am willing to do it.
"Your Majesty."
His voice was resolute.
"I understand. I will do everything in my power to protect the Dragon Kingdom's people."
Draudillon's eyes lit up in an instant.
Then, almost immediately, she noticed herself and suppressed the light, switching back to the sad expression so quickly it was nearly seamless. If Lucian hadn't been watching for it, he might have convinced himself he'd imagined it.
Draudillon settled back into her pitiable expression.
"Count Lucian," she said, in a voice full of please be careful, "do be safe. When you return victorious, I'll cook for your celebration feast personally."
Lucian looked at that small face working so hard to sustain its expression of touching reluctance.
Outrageous.
He thought to himself.
The acting is bad enough, but handing me a flag like that — are you trying to get me killed?
Every character in the shows of his previous life who had said things like "when I get back we'll get married" or "after this battle I'll go home to my wife and kids" had basically never made it back alive.
And then Lucian remembered — he had also given Lakyus a flag. He had promised her that next time, he would bring her to the Dragon Kingdom.
Oh no. I was only thinking of it as a way to buy time with my sister. I forgot that's a flag too.
Lucian began to feel the faintest edge of unease.
He shifted his head very slightly, letting his peripheral vision find the position half a step behind him.
Sebas was there.
The stone hanging in Lucian's chest settled cleanly to the ground.
All right.
He thought.
Sebas is here.
Without Sebas along, Lucian wouldn't have accepted this flag-saturated request under any circumstances. But with a level-100 dragonoid at his side — he genuinely did not believe that two such trivial flags from himself and the dragon queen could overcome that.
He looked at the queen's face, expectant and dressed up as reluctant, and at Prime Minister Bergmann's impeccable performance of only wishing I still had my youth.
"Your Majesty, rest assured." Lucian's voice was steady. "I will give everything I have."
Draudillon fought desperately to keep the corners of her mouth from rising.
"Then... then I'll leave it to you, Count Lucian."
She released his finger.
The small hand that had been holding on for quite a while withdrew. Her knuckles were faintly pink — she had apparently been gripping harder than she'd realized.
Lucian stepped back, right hand at his chest, and inclined his head in a brief bow.
"Your Majesty, I'll take my leave. I need to return to camp to prepare."
"Mm." Draudillon answered softly.
Lucian straightened, turned, and walked toward the reception hall's entrance.
Sebas followed him.
Their figures passed through the half-open door and disappeared into the corridor beyond.
The reception hall went quiet.
Draudillon turned to look at Prime Minister Bergmann behind her.
"He agreed." The queen's voice was back to its normal register — no longer the soft, pitiful tone from a moment ago.
"Yes, Your Majesty." The Prime Minister inclined slightly. "Lord Aindra is indeed a loli— ahem. Has indeed not disappointed — willing to fight hard for the Dragon Kingdom."
The corner of Draudillon's mouth curved slightly, then pressed flat again.
"...Does he actually think I'm pitiful?"
The question carried a somewhat complicated note.
The Prime Minister didn't answer.
He honestly couldn't quite read what that young man was thinking.
---
Lucian stepped out of the palace and felt his breathing ease several degrees.
He drew a slow breath. Performing a lolicon is genuinely difficult.
"Lord Lucian."
Sebas's voice came from behind.
"What is it, Sebas?"
"Nothing." Sebas shook his head. "I only thought — you agreed just now... a little too readily."
Lucian turned to look at him. "Rest easy, Sebas." The sunlight fell on the line of his profile, leaving a faint golden hue across it. "I have my confidence with this level of risk."
"Besides — if I don't take some risks, how can I use that as grounds to ask for hidden dragon intelligence?"
Sebas looked at Lucian's sunlit profile, and something in him went slightly unfocused.
Lucian's golden hair was nearly translucent in the light. Those pale green eyes held an easy, unhurried smile.
Lord Lucian is risking himself this much, all for my sake.
From the Re-Estize Kingdom to the Dragon Kingdom. From dismantling Eight Fingers to accepting a decapitation mission. Everything Lucian had done — the reason behind all of it was to look after him and Solution.
Sebas made a quiet inner vow.
He would absolutely not allow Lucian to be harmed in this mission. Even if it cost him his own life.
Beastman king, is it? Come at me. He would give everything he had.
Sebas was certain: if Touch Me-sama were here, he would make the same decision.
"Sebas?" Lucian's voice pulled him back.
"Nothing." Sebas gave a small shake of his head. A smile had settled at the corner of his mouth. "Nothing at all. Shall we head back to camp, Lord Lucian?"
Lucian nodded and turned toward the outer city.
Sebas followed, his gaze staying on Lucian's back for a long time before moving away.
---
"Please wait, Lord Lucian!"
A voice caught up from behind, carrying a note of urgency.
Lucian stopped and turned.
A young man was jogging toward them.
He wore light leather armor with a long sword at his hip. His features were composed. Short golden hair — though the single cowlick sticking straight up on top of his head undermined the overall effect somewhat.
The young man's eyes burned with something Lucian recognized immediately.
Battle spirit.
That hunger to prove oneself, to be acknowledged — burning in his eyes like a live flame.
Serabure.
Captain of the Dragon Kingdom's only Adamantite-ranked adventuring team, Crystal Tears.
Lucian knew him. In previous visits to the Dragon Kingdom they'd had a few brief exchanges.
But every time, this Adamantite adventurer's attitude had been something short of friendly.
Not hostility exactly — more like a child whose favorite toy has been taken away, instinctively raising his guard when facing the one who took it.
Serabure ran up, came to a stop.
He bent at the waist in a bow — the motion so rapid it seemed like he was rushing to complete a required procedure.
"First, my gratitude for coming to support the Dragon Kingdom once again, and for being willing to take on the difficult mission of killing the beastman king."
Then he snapped straight at lightning speed.
The whole sequence was smooth and rapid enough to actually produce a small gust of air.
Lucian genuinely thought his bowing time was shorter than the duration of an ordinary warrior's single sword strike.
Did this man use a Martial Art for that?
Serabure stood at full height, those battle-burning eyes fixed directly on Lucian.
"However," his voice rose a degree, "just because Her Majesty has placed this mission with you does not mean you have already won."
Lucian blinked.
What is he talking about?
His mind blanked for a brief moment. He genuinely wasn't following the logic.
Serabure, looking at Lucian's expression of confusion, let the corner of his mouth lift a little further.
In his reading, Lucian's silence was a form of concession.
He puffed out his chest. Chin angled slightly upward. In a tone approaching a declaration of territorial rights:
"I'll be straight with you — if you fail this mission, Her Majesty will hand it back to me."
His voice was full of pride, like an athlete who had been told in advance that he was the backup and was now making a point of displaying his reserve status.
Lucian looked at him.
That composed face was completely without any trace of a joke.
Those battle-burning eyes were practically saying you only got chosen because you were lucky.
The corner of Lucian's mouth twitched.
Well then.
He thought quietly.
I take it back.
There really does exist a person in this world who, because a loli asked him, goes running off to do something fatal.
"What do you say!" Serabure's chin went higher, his entire bearing radiating are you afraid now.
Lucian looked at the pride burning ever brighter in Serabure's eyes.
This man was nothing more than the queen's designated backup.
And somehow he was getting a sense of superiority from the position.
That, honestly, was a particular kind of talent.
"Mr. Serabure." Lucian almost wanted to laugh. "I understand."
"Good that you do." Serabure made a sound of satisfaction, turned, and walked away with long strides.
Silhouette upright, gait brisk. Even the cowlick on his head seemed to carry a faint victorious swagger.
Lucian watched the retreating figure.
He felt a sudden, unexpected flash of envy. Someone this genuinely uncomplicated probably didn't have many worries.
Probably one of his few worries, actually.
---
On the way back to camp.
The sun had already sunk below the city walls. The entire city was wrapped in amber evening light. The buildings on both sides of the street cast long shadows. In the gaps between the stone paving, the afternoon's warmth still lingered.
Sebas walked at Lucian's side. After a brief hesitation, he spoke.
"That situation just now — it doesn't bother you, Lucian?"
"What's there to be bothered about." Lucian replied easily. "I don't argue with lolicons."
Sebas's expression grew faintly odd.
His gaze rested on Lucian's face for just a moment, then moved away.
He's saying that — but isn't Lord Lucian himself also partial to the petite, adorable type?
Out of respect for Lucian, Sebas did not say this aloud.
---
By the time they returned to camp, the sky had gone completely dark.
The campfires were already lit. Orange firelight danced between the tents, stretching and shortening the shadows of the sentries with each flicker.
The air carried a faint smell of blood.
Lucian paused, then saw it: piled at the camp entrance were more than twenty sheep.
Their coats were still fairly clean — clearly slaughtered not long ago, blood still dripping.
An adjutant came forward to meet him, face bright.
"My lord, the Prime Minister sent these — he says it's to reward the soldiers on the expedition. A small gesture of appreciation."
Lucian looked at the sheep, and felt something move in him.
The Dragon Kingdom's food supply was already thin, and meat especially scarce. That old fox Bergmann, at a time like this, was being particularly generous.
He gave a nod.
"Roast them all tonight. Let the men eat well."
"Yes, sir!" The adjutant answered smartly, turned, and ran off to relay the order.
The camp's atmosphere brightened immediately.
Soldiers clustered around the campfires, turning meat on wooden skewers, fat dripping into the flames with a hissing sound.
Someone was already boasting about past exploits. Someone else was talking quietly about the fight ahead.
Lucian didn't join them.
He turned, walked toward his tent, lifted the flap, and went inside.