“——Take care of your life, Flopp. Self-sacrifice is something only fools do.”

The one advising Flopp was Miles, the benefactor who had rescued him from the wretched environment.

In their childhood, the orphanage where Flopp and Medium had sought refuge appeared to be much worse than they had originally thought.

It was a place that collected abandoned children who had no family, no one to turn to, and provided them with a life under a roof and walls; adults often said so.

“You are fortunate to be here, while so many are overflowing with those who have no food or work.”

Honestly, that’s what Flopp believed.

Living discarded by their family and struggling to survive with muddy water was tough for both him and his sister Medium. When it came to food, they had to resort to grass or bugs; if they could catch a rabbit, it was cause for celebration. In the worst of times, they even nibbled on dirt or moss to stave off hunger.

Comparatively speaking, life in the orphanage was indeed a lot better.

They received thin, tattered blankets, and even when the meals consisted of tasteless soup and a piece of bread, it was still something. The adults did not beat them every single day, and work assignments were assigned based on sheer numbers.

The adults’ words, trying to convince them that the outside world was far harsher, made some sense. Hence, thoughts of escaping never even sprouted.

However, it pained Flopp to witness Medium and the other children being beaten by the adults, so he learned to behave as cheerfully and attentively as he could in order to capture their attention.

Each day, Flopp resolved to be the one who drew the most attention from the adults.

If Flopp caught their fancy, the way they treated the other children softened. Even on adult’s bad days, the first target of their ire was always Flopp, the standout among them.

Being noticeable became his weapon.

He would speak loudly, gesture widely, and exaggerate his expressions and movements. Luckily, it wasn’t too difficult to make a habit of that. It seemed he had a natural gift for drawing people’s eyes.

—One night, when Medium was soothing the injuries Flopp had sustained after diverting the adults’ anger away from the younger kids, he was convinced of this.

This was the role he had to play in this place.

In a pain that felt like it would stretch into the void, Flopp told himself that—

“That can’t possibly be the case, you dolt!”

“Huh…?”

“You show up after several years, and it’s just as annoying as ever at home, and then a dumb kid does a dumb thing. One crazy cleric like Balroi is plenty!”

Flopp, who acknowledged his role and resolved to bear the negative aspects of the orphanage, suddenly found his plans shattered one night.

The person who appeared riding a flying dragon was not someone to be described as handsome.

He displayed his rough upbringing without reservation, scratching irritably at his gray hair. He was the kind of person a child would prefer to avoid. His face somewhat resembled a subservient rat, intensifying that impression, making it feel like one should bow their head when around him to avoid a beating.

Yet, the man—Miles—didn’t seem to care at all about Flopp’s bad impressions.

“I was originally from this facility, just like you lot. Well, it was a terrible place back in my time. So I quickly ran away and had to scrape by on mud water.”

At night, the doors to the children’s room were locked with a rough key so they wouldn’t escape.

After Miles broke it open and peeked inside, he regarded the cramped room filled with nearly twenty children and clicked his tongue in irritation.

He then stepped out and said to the startled and frightened children, “Wait here,” as he walked toward where the adults were.

And—

“I had every day be a cycle of whether I would die or survive, but somehow I managed to catch a break. Then, a few years later, I suddenly remembered that wretched home… and here we are.”

Flopp saw adults bound up and thrown onto the floor, while Miles kicked down on their faces, calling them ingrates as he grinned.

It was clear he had suffered a lot at the hands of adults. Still, Flopp couldn’t help but tilt his head and wonder if that was all right.

Glancing at Flopp, Miles raised an eyebrow and said,

“What’s wrong, you want to join in? Then get your revenge. A hundred times over.”

“Whoa, I…!”

“—I’ll do it!!”

At Miles’ devilish whisper, Flopp hesitated to respond.

But just then, Medium who had jumped in from behind Flopp, hit a bound adult over the head with a wooden branch without hesitation. —No, it wasn’t just Medium.

All the children, with the exception of the stunned Flopp, turned into angry rebels.

“It always hurts!”

“I hate you!”

“Your corpse will pay!”

The adults, bound and unable to resist, were drowned out by the children’s angry screams.

They clawed across the adults’ faces, struck their cheeks, and even urinated on them, letting out the pent-up anger they had stored up.

“Bwahahaha! Look at their faces! What a masterpiece!”

Beside Flopp, who was left dumbfounded watching the siblings’ rebellion, Miles erupted into raunchy laughter.

Flopp was in no mood to laugh; instead, he was only dizzy, thinking about what would happen next as the adults suffered such a fate.

“Alright, do as you like… but if you just leave them like that, I can only imagine how the Dracloy Count would scold me.”

As the rebellion unfolded spontaneously, Miles examined the children who emerged outside the facility and continued,

“For now, I’ll take you to the Count. From there, do as you wish. You don’t have to follow me if you don’t want.”

The children exchanged worried glances at such a casual invitation from Miles.

They were anxious and confused. Even though Miles said it was up to them whether to stay or not, it was a “choice” they had never had.

They had always followed the adults’ instructions, so there had never been a right to choose anything. Suddenly being given a right threw them into a fluster.

At their dazed behavior, Miles shrugged and said,

“What’s with the delay, how pathetic. —You already got your revenge aimed at them. You lot can choose anything!”

Hearing those words from Miles, the children finally realized.

They had already made the choice to rebel, just as Miles had said.

—In the end, not a single child chose to stay in the orphanage.

Of course, Flopp, even if he hadn’t participated, could not suggest staying in the place after all that had happened. Medium readily took the chance and chirped, “Let’s go!”, beckoning Flopp as well.

There was no way he could reject Medium’s wish or choose the path that would lead to them being separated.

In comparison to the other children, Flopp’s reasons for leaving were somewhat passive.

He had done something incredible.

Or perhaps, he had been drawn into something incredible; regret gnawed at his chest.

Yet—

“Good night, big brother.”

While on the road toward the place where Miles’ master was, blanketed with the covering they had brought from the orphanage alongside Medium, those words struck deeply in his heart.

As his sister leaned against him with a relaxed expression, the view outside devoid of a roof or walls gave him relief.

He realized he no longer had to worry about being beaten or causing his sister to cry.

“—Ha.”

Realization hit, and Flopp cried.

Crying, weeping endlessly, he savored the salty taste of freedom.

—Far away, beating their wings, the flying dragons moved away from the gray clouds above.

He continued to remain alert until the retreating figure was no bigger than a speck, cautious that it wasn’t a precursor to further attacks, and then Ziqru relaxed his body.

For reasons unknown, the flock of flying dragons retreated. As the city hall had not fully fallen, the reasons for withdrawal could be twofold—success of the mission objectives or a judgment of insurmountable difficulties.

From Ziqru’s viewpoint, he preferred the former.

Considering the dramatic turn of events that transpired during the intense hour-long struggle, it was possible to think that objectively, the likelihood of the former was higher.

“A sudden drop in temperature and catastrophic damage in the southern city…”

Ziqru buried his hand in his abundant hair as he touched upon the two unexplained phenomena.

During the battle, the temperature in the castle city dropped rapidly, and when the white snow began to flutter down, he could scarcely believe his eyes. It is said one can see snow on high peaks, but to expect it in Volakia, one could only look forward to upheaval from nature.

Thus, snowfall during a battle could only be classified as a calamity.

That, however, worked in favour of Ziqru and his forces.

The sudden drop in temperature, particularly the cold, posed a weakness to the flying dragons, visibly causing a decline in their troublesome aerial capabilities. Without such an anomaly, the damage would have been far greater and deeper.

Nevertheless—

“What, about that white light…?”

He encountered devastating destruction that snuffed out the southern part of the city.

It was a sight too gentle for the word calamity, a glimpse into one of the world’s ends. Even if no further destruction followed, the single strike had sufficiently wounded the city.

Command structure faltered, and assessments of the situation stagnated. Had they been pushed back further by the flock of flying dragons, the city might have faced collapse without exception.

For that reason, Ziqru considered it fortunate and strange that the dragons had withdrawn.

Thus, Ziqru hypothesized that something must have occurred on the enemy’s side.

Has someone dealt a painful blow to the attackers while Ziqru and his forces were preoccupied with the city’s defense? If so, the candidates would likely be Mizelda leading Shudrak or Priscilla, who had proven capable of repelling a commander.

Regardless of who had caused it—

“Women are truly wonderful. Yet, I do not wish to be protected while lingering behind a woman.”

The acknowledgment of women’s superiority should not serve as an excuse for the shortcomings of men.

While respecting and loving women’s brilliance, one should regard one’s own faults with contrition.

In any case—

“This much severe aggression has proven that our prior preparations were worthwhile.”

“…Using flying dragons is the standard to besiege the castle city. However, it should have been expected that ‘dragon generals’ would be sent rather than merely a flying dragon corps.”

Ziqru shook his head at the words of his injured strategist, blood streaming from his head.

They had underestimated the situation. The anti-dragon weaponry prepared as a counter for the flying dragons had largely been deployed on the western city wall due to anticipating attacks from the imperial capital, yet the flying dragons had assaulted from everywhere.

After a general was recalled, Ziqru believed it would take time to deploy another general, though that too proved to be a miscalculation—given the circumstances, it was only natural.

This wasn’t merely a rebellion in one city; it was a prelude to a far larger upheaval.

From the perspective of sly ministers in the imperial capital, they would undoubtedly pour efforts into extinguishing the fires of rebellion while they were still small. They should have anticipated the continuous deployment of generals.

“No, let’s put off reflection for now. The walls have fallen; it doesn’t take dragons to conquer the city. Confirm the extent of the damage, check whether repairs are feasible…”

“—Lay down your weapons immediately! This is an order!”

“Huh?”

While Ziqru sought to compile reflections swiftly and continued his thoughts on damage assessment and future responses, a tense, cutting voice reverberated through the cold air.

Looking around the city hall, transformed into a command center, he saw a silhouette surrounded by defenders.

The weapons that had until that moment been aimed at flying dragons now swiveled toward a man glaring arrogantly at the surrounding troops. In his hands, he wielded long swords, with blood dripping from their tips.

However, that blood wasn’t human; it was dragon blood.

“That is…”

“One of the soldiers we brought up from underground as a countermeasure against the flying dragons. An expert in dual swords…”

“Ah, I’ve seen him in combat. A warrior unrivaled. —Hey, stop that!”

Ziqru agreed with his strategist’s eye-witness account, stretching out his arms to instruct his subordinates. One of his underlings called out, “Two stars!”

“It’s dangerous! Given the circumstances, we’ve released him from confinement…”

“So after pushing back the threat of flying dragons, are you saying we would return him to a cell immediately? That would hardly be acceptable. The sacrifices to be made on that account would be the true issue.”

Responding to his uneasy subordinate, Ziqru stepped closer to the surrounded man.

The prowess of this dual-swordsman was, without a doubt, significantly higher than that of standard imperial soldiers. As it was, they had no assurance of having beaten back the swarm of flying dragons assaulting the city hall without his remarkable efforts.

If he were to turn those blades their way, he would likely inflict more significant damage.

“Of course, should he resort to any acts of violence, there will be no mercy for him. Therefore…”

“Therefore, what?”

“——”

As Ziqru began speaking, the man responded in a prickly voice and attitude. On top of that, he directed one of his two swords toward Ziqru, grinning fiercely while saying,

“You want me to surrender quietly? That’d be no different from what the other folks say, you ‘woman-lover’ of a general.”

“You! Are you mocking Ziqru, the general?!”

Ziqru, proud of the contested title, could clearly feel the intent behind the man’s words mocking the title. Consequently, his subordinates grew agitated, but Ziqru restrained them with a hand.

“I welcome a surrender, but that’s not the case. Your actions were commendable. Regardless of our positions, the reality of your contribution to the city’s defense cannot be diminished. Hence, I will ensure your release.”

“——Are you serious?”

“Reward and punishment are the tenets of Volakia, and it is the desire of His Majesty the Emperor.”

The Emperor of Volakia judged based on the merit of one’s actions, and Ziqru respected that core of loyalty.

However, as soon as he heard Ziqru’s response, the man’s demeanor began to gain aggressive edge.

The intense hostility emanating from him hinted that his allegiance to the Empire was the source of that resentment.

“You had the gall to betray the Emperor and the Empire, siding with the rebels, and yet openly claim to speak of loyalty…! If I were in your position, I wouldn’t be able to bear such shame and would put an end to it myself.”

“——”

Ziqru inhaled sharply at the man’s words, which revealed a powerful animosity rooted in loyalty to the Empire, then he focused intently on the man.

This soldier who had been relegated to the dungeon was one of those who had refused to surrender, stubbornly fighting to the end when Vincent had strategized to take Gwararu. Hence, he could be considered someone with remarkable allegiance to imperialism.

If that’s the case—

“Should I say that I share the same unwavering loyalty to the Empire and His Majesty the Emperor as you do, would you then lend me your ear?”

“Huh?”

The man widened his left eye at Ziqru’s question and let out a gruff grunt. However, as he realized that Ziqru wasn’t backing down, he hesitated briefly before throwing down his sword to the floor.

The sword rolled with a high-pitched clatter; unarmed, he raised both his hands.

“So you mean to say you’ll hear me out?”

“For now, I’m going to temporarily refrain from rampaging mindlessly. If I give it my all, I should be able to take the head of the ‘traitorous general’…”

He looked around provocatively, glancing toward Ziqru’s aides. Their wariness surged at his gaze, but he scoffed derisively.

“I’ll hold off. However, if it’s yet another boring story…”

“I intend to speak of something worthy of your interest. …By the way, may I ask your name?”

With the opportunity to approach, Ziqru asked the man for his name. For a moment, the man hesitated to respond but then, finding no reason to dodge, scratched his head.

“—Jamal Aurelie. Corporal.”

He stated his name and rank.

Receiving that name, Ziqru bowed his head deeply.

“Jamal, is it? You may know me; I am Ziqru Osman. I have been appointed the title of the Empire’s second general, nicknamed ‘woman-lover’. More importantly—”

“Huh?”

“As of now, it’s more fitting that I be called a ‘coward’.”

That title, once a source of shame, had taken on a special glow in Ziqru’s heart.

After hearing Ziqru’s response, Jamal grimaced in confusion. His prowess was high, but he didn’t seem skilled in reasoning.

That being the case, perhaps if he spoke of virtue, he might lend an ear to his side.

Just then—

“——Excuse me, is this where the representative of the city is?”

As Jamal surrendered, the tension in the city hall dissipated. A voice, seemingly just waiting for the moment to interrupt, slipped in.

The quiet and gentle tone of the voice struck their eardrums, evoking a sense of relief.

However, unfamiliar with the voice, Ziqru turned, corrugating his round brows.

The speaker appeared at the stairs connecting the uppermost and lower levels of the command center. Raising both hands in a gesture showing there was no malice, the gray-haired man scanned the area.

“Is that you, the ‘general’ Ziqru Osman?”

Despite sharing the same red uniform, he identified Ziqru as ‘the general’ without any hesitation.

Of course, given the cloak he wore and the insignia of rank on his shoulder, recognizing Ziqru as the person of highest rank here would’ve been easy—what truly mattered was the courage to point that out.

Entering a command center where a battle had just taken place and identifying an unfamiliar commander demonstrated a level of courage. The modest but unflinching demeanor raised Ziqru’s suspicion.

Given that the man was not among the inhabitants of the city, he suspected he had slipped in during the midst of battle.

In that case, the most appropriate conclusion was—

“An envoy from the imperial capital… perhaps a messenger for us?”

“Huh? Ah, no, no, that’s completely off! We’re actually in a much more complicated position, difficult to explain, and we aren’t affiliated with the imperial capital at all!”

The young man waved his hands side to side, hurriedly denying Ziqru’s suspicions. If that was to be believed, the young man’s stance became even more unclear.

As Ziqru deepened his frown at the newfound confusion, Jamal gritted his teeth and interjected.

“You lot came in after us! How dare you try to butt in… I’ll take you down!”

“I appreciate that and apologize. I didn’t expect we could have had a calm conversation right now. So if I could just get permission—”

“Permission? For what?”

“For the treatment of the injured, and the fixing of the city afterward… maybe you could call it helping with the aftermath of the battle. A bit, at least, my companions and I should be useful.”

The young man answered Jamal, exhaling the word “moreover” as if burdened. With a face that seemed tired and slightly deflated, he unwound as he might have his brow creased.

“Some of that has already started, so some of this is by post-approval, but…”

“—I’m thankful for the offer, but that’s…”

“It’s not anything complicated, Ziqru. There’s no lie in what that man conveyed!”

Just before Ziqru could quell any further inquiries, an alluringly regal voice interrupted.

The sound of a staff ringing against the floor resonated sharply as a figure ascended the stairs, standing beside the young man. It was Mizelda, smeared in blood, proudly bearing her magnificent appearance.

From the looks of it, the blood that branded her beautiful body was entirely from battle, and aside from the noticeable injury she had sustained earlier, she seemed unharmed. Relief overwhelmed Ziqru at her safe return.

Upon her arrival, Mizelda amiably patted the young man’s shoulder and stated,

“This fellow’s companion has already begun their work. I can guarantee that!”

“Lady Mizelda, I’m glad you’re safe. And this person?”

“I don’t know. He’s not our enemy, just someone attractive, so I’ve kept him close.”

“Lady Mizelda…”

Mizelda’s aesthetic perspective was a bit different from Ziqru’s. In truth, the young man did appear rather appealing, the sort of charm that stood out.

While he gave an air of being somewhat androgynous, there was a distinctly strong core within his gaze.

Ziqru felt he wasn’t a bad person. Still, he could sense the hidden motives lying within.

“In this situation, I wouldn’t expect someone to offer help without wanting something back. Who are you exactly?”

“As I mentioned earlier, it’s a complicated position. However, I have no intention of opposing you. —I’m just looking for someone.”

“Looking for someone…”

The young man nodded, affirming Ziqru’s repetition.

He then removed the green cap he was wearing and held it over his chest, bowing—though not in the imperial style, he showed a posture of respect towards Ziqru.

“I am Otto Suwen. —I’m searching for a friend and his sister.”

His demeanor didn’t evoke suspicion and had the semblance of a keen-eyed hyena while he softly expressed his purpose.

—Miles’ master, High Noble Selena Dracloy, was a fierce woman.

Having made her way in the aristocratic upper echelons of the Empire at a young age, she placed great importance on meritocracy, elevating those who exhibited capabilities as a representation of imperialism.

At the same time, she held a noble dignity that did not permit the strong to humiliate the weak, which is why the children brought back by Miles weren’t treated poorly.

“I have received your reports. To have Miles bring you back speaks volumes. He must have truly felt pity for your circumstances. Feel free to live as you wish in my territory.”

Welcoming Flopp and the others, Selena responded with a grand smile.

Standing before such a monumental figure, the sense of oppression made Flopp’s child-heart want to bow down, and he was overawed by the decor of the lavish and colossal mansion.

“Those like the Count, who have such ease, don’t need to bully us lowly folks. After all, the adults who beat children are the very ones who were beaten themselves when they were kids.”

After bathing in warm water, filling their stomachs to the brim, and dressing in clean clothes with lovely fragrances, Miles answered in his usual rough manner.

Flopp, unlike Medium and the others, who were entranced by the freshness of their surroundings, was deeply influenced by the new perspectives offered by Miles.

Most importantly—

“Oh, we’re fellow countrymen, aren’t we? Are you folks also picked up by Brother Miles?”

Following after his sisters, who were given freedom to saunter about, Flopp paused in the beautiful garden within the vast estate.

Overwhelmed by the sight of magnificent blossoms in full bloom, a soft voice called out from behind him.

Surprised, Flopp turned around, looking for the voice, but couldn’t spot anyone in the garden. Just when he tilted his head in confusion—

“I’m over here. Sorry to intrude from below for a second.”

“Whoa!”

“Whoa, what a tumble!”

A boy, slightly older yet still youthful, popped his head up from the other side of the fence Flopp was leaning on. Flopp stumbled backward, taken aback by the sight.

The older boy, likely around twelve or thirteen years old, wore a charming face and had chestnut hair.

“…You’re quite a laugh, aren’t you?”

“Oh, sorry, sorry. You took quite a fall, so I couldn’t help it. I’d help you up, but I’m kind of stuck here.”

“Stuck here? …Ah.”

Dusting himself off, Flopp rounded the fence to where the boy sat awkwardly.

Plopped on the ground, the boy had a large round mass resting on his lap.

Seeing it, Flopp’s eyes widened in astonishment.

“That’s not… an egg, is it?”

“Yep, a big old egg! You see, this here’s a dragon egg.”

“What are you planning to do with a dragon egg?”

“Of course, I’m gonna hatch it!”

The boy grinned widely, embracing the over-sized white egg as if it were a ball.

—That was how Flopp and Medium O’Connell crossed paths with Balroi Temegurif, the boy who would become their lifelong sworn brother.

—About the threat of flying dragons, they claimed to have garnered insights beyond mere knowledge.

They had painfully witnessed the peril wrought by the claws and fangs, and the brutal tactics employed utilizing their wings, feeling the aggressive nature of these creatures from the destroyed cities and the assaulted populace.

Frankly, Flopp found it impossible to understand why one would attempt to tame and rely on such a dangerous creature. It was an irreconcilable enemy—more akin to a colossal snake encountered in a jungle, harmful and solely menacing.

However—

“——”

As Rem quietly narrowed her eyes at the landscape outside the window, in the mansion’s courtyard, a single flying dragon rested its wings, with a soldier nearby offering it food.

This fearsome creature, known to be furiously violent, appeared tender as it looked at the soldier, emitting almost a whine whilst being fed.

To Rem, who had often been told that noble dragons never proclaimed friendship with humans, the sight made her falter with astonishment.

Having been previously severely schooled about the proud nature of dragons, it was understandable that Rem found there was no room for complaint seeing it was contrary to expectations.

“You seem to be a bit somber.”

Suddenly, as Rem gazed out into the garden, a voice called out behind her.

Naturally, she noticed the approaching footsteps, so Rem wasn’t surprised by the presence of another.

However, an unfamiliar voice flared some tension based on the context.

“Somber? I don’t know if it’s that, but I do have my thoughts. This is not a place I wished to be brought to.”

“Hmm, you’re quite frank, aren’t you? A rather refreshing opinion.”

“…Who are you?”

Curiously seated within a sumptuous room that felt grandiose even compared to the quarters designated for prisoners, Rem queried the older gentleman who held the floor occupied by gray hair and a visage defined by threadlike eyes.

His attire conveyed he was in no way a warrior, giving off signs he was a figure of high rank.

His demeanor and age, combined with the soldiers maintaining guard over Rem, indicated he held an authority beyond a certain level.

Unfazed by Rem’s unwavering gaze, the old man nonchalantly waved his hand, instructing the guard to leave the room. They swiftly complied, bowing as they exited.

With just the two of them left in the room, he gently indicated the seat in front of Rem as he asked,

“May I sit?”

“…Please.”

The elder took his seat across from her, stroking his chin with his fingers.

“You haven’t heard anything about me, have you?”

“No, not a thing. Just the orders to heal me and let me rest, and that if I act on my own, I’ll be killed.”

Rem shook her head, recalling the instructions from the manor lord—Madelin.

She had been closely monitored, held under close watch in a state of confinement, and Rem herself had no intention to escape. However, it was undeniably an unpleasant situation.

The old man nodded and said, “I see. That sorta attitude towards a guest can be seen as a problem. I should take it up with General Madelin.”

“You can reprimand her?”

The enigmatic words uttered by the elderly man made Rem’s eyes widen in surprise.

The long time spent accompanying Madelin from the castle city to the mansion—the woman often frustrated Rem with her lack of communicative ability.

Stubborn and obstinate, she was somewhat saved by a glimmer of naivety occasionally.

“I thought she hated being given orders. When instructed, she would soon get angry and resort to violence…”

Before she could finish her thoughts, Rem placed her hands over one another.

Considering calmly, she felt embarrassed at the thought of how she had expressed herself. Considering she herself was someone who had ignored others and had broken fingers before.

However, the old man let out a small chuckle at Rem’s self-reflection, saying,

“Surprisingly, I can’t call it incorrect. It also stings my ears. It seems, in fact, I’ve been unable to secure her compliance this time. More importantly—”

“——”

“It was not just Miss Madelin’s whim this time; there appeared to be another enormous factor at play.”

Still smiling, albeit somber, the old man quieted his tone, piercing through Rem with a judging stare that could glimpse deep into the abyss of her soul.

“…Who are you?”

“I apologize for being tardy in introducing myself. I am entrusted with the role of Grand Chancellor by His Majesty the Emperor in this Holy Volakia Empire. My name is Belstet Fondalfon.”

“Chancellor… Belstet.”

As she inquired, the old man bowed graciously.

Upon hearing that name and title, Rem’s facial expression stiffened, and her shoulders tensed up.

Both the name and title were instantly recognizable.

“Then, you are…”

“Indeed. —I am the enemy of Vincent Abelkus.”

“—”

The clear declaration left Rem momentarily speechless.

It was an affirmation of something she had already sensed, but hearing it so bluntly was unexpected. At the same time, the heavy burden of being caught up without choice in such a major issue in such close proximity felt intensely out of place and bitterly ironic.

Someone like Abel, Priscilla, or Subaru should have truly belonged in this room.

Thinking that far, Rem was grateful Subaru wasn’t present.

“If he were here, he’d undoubtedly act recklessly alone regardless…”

Without a doubt, the black-haired boy was impatiently proactive. He would find a way to generate unexpected trouble, should he have had his hands on matters of this severity.

For that reason, it was a relief that he wasn’t in the city besieged by flying dragons. The odds of him salvaging anything seemed slim, and he would have undoubtedly gained extra injuries.

However—

“——”

Should he find out that Rem had been taken by Madelin, how would he feel?

The speculation gnawed at her heart with the keen pain of a sharp blade.

“—You know that the Emperor Abel of this empire is indeed the real one?”

Ignoring the torment afflicting her heart, Rem inquired towards Belstet. He simply replied, “Of course.”

“Yes, it’s an undeniable fact. As we were unable to foresee his escape it has certainly been a blunder. However, we continued on course according to plan. Rather, we ought to say we used to have such plans. In fact, the devastation of Gwararu stopped far short.”

“Why go after Abel? I cannot even begin to imagine how one could reach the resolution to rebel. Is it because of Abel’s character?”

“One does not seek character from an emperor. Personal emotions and attachments are mere trifles from the perspective of governing a nation. What’s sought is ability and the trust placed in fulfilling responsibilities, evidenced by results.”

He gently shook his head, answering with a monotonous voice devoid of expression.

His unchanging tone and expression made it impossible for Rem to fathom his true feelings, as they were separated from her relatively scant life experience.

Was he lying because of his lack of emotion, or was it the truth? It was impossible to tell.

Still, she found it reasonable to believe that the conspiracy was not borne of Abel’s personal nature.

With her own eyes witnessing the assault that claimed so many lives, she could not accept the notion that his temperament could justify it; not even the deceased could agree to such a claim.

Thus—

“So you say Abel was cast out because he was deemed an inadequate emperor?”

“Exile was not my original intent. That’s a retrospective conclusion.”

“What was lacking in Abel? I don’t quite grasp the heavy responsibilities of an emperor or the set of necessary abilities, but wouldn’t you consider him competent…?”

Why it was required that she defend him puzzled Rem, yet she carefully selected her words to find justification for the overlapping irritation she felt towards the situation.

Indeed, irrespective of his combat prowess, the excellence in Abel’s thought processes and depth of knowledge was evident.

It was apparent that Mizelda, Ziqru, and even Subaru were prepared to heed his voice, a testament to his leadership’s ability to persuade others.

Though Rem could not cite specifics, she had no doubt he bore leadership qualities essential for an emperor.

That being the case—

“You still haven’t introduced yourself, have you, healer?”

“…It’s Rem.”

“Hmm.”

While harboring resentment toward Belstet, Rem was also accepting of the name that had become hers.

Although she could now acknowledge herself as ‘Rem,’ it had not dawned on her until she had proudly proclaimed her name to Priscilla or permitted Subaru to call her so.

Regardless, with an attempt to pay respect to the name Rem, Belstet released a small sigh.

“Lady Rem, how many heirs does His Majesty currently have?”

“Oh, next… um, are we talking about children?”

“Yes.”

Nodding in agreement, Belstet gently affirmed his inquiry, prompting Rem to visualize Abel in her mind.

Though she had lost her memory, all the knowledge she grasped prior to that loss remained intact. She was well aware of how humans procreate; she retained that knowledge.

The nagging doubt lingered about whether Abel was capable of forming such relationships with others. It was hard to imagine a substantial woman who stood alongside Abel in her mind.

“I can’t imagine there being others. Surely, there are none?”

“——You have a keen eye. That’s correct; there aren’t any.”

“Ah, so it really is the case. I suppose it could be deemed rather disrespectful for Abel…”

Rem began to follow through on that thought but suddenly stopped speaking.

As the old man silently sat there, his narrowed eyes slowly opened, and their depth gleamed, silencing Rem with an overwhelming presence.

In the stillness that bristled between them, Belstet cast a commanding glare upon the table, brimming with uncontainable fury.

“There are none, the heirs. —That’s a significant problem.”

“—Ah.”

“The Empire must be powerful. If not, this country will—”

As he exhaled tremblingly before Rem, Belstet paused his words and relinquished his fist atop the table, breathing deeply.

Then, he returned to hiding his eyes behind his eyelids and looked directly at Rem.

“I apologize. It marks the first time I’ve become a traitor, so I can hardly deny being unsettled.”

“…Why are you telling me this?”

“——”

“It shouldn’t be a story you have to share with me.”

The words from Belstet, steeped in something more profound than mere feelings, bore an evident weight.

Although Rem didn’t sense any lie within them, she questioned why he would share such information.

Given how little she thought of herself in a position of importance, she couldn’t grasp that reality.

While she had been placed alongside Abel and Priscilla several times, those circumstances stemmed from happenstance rather than any special treatment.

“Yet why—”

“Because you are a healer and a demon. If possible, I want to have you in my grasp. You are a valuable asset.”

“——”

That truth seemed neither outright lies nor fully genuine.

Still, as Rem hoped to pull more answers from the conversation, Belstet evidently chose to withdraw, easing himself up from the chair.

“I would have liked to continue talking with you, but I have duties to attend to. For the time being, you may find a measure of inconvenience, but I will instruct my people to aid you as much as possible, so please take your time.”

“…What is your relation to Madelin, exactly?”

“A collaborator, I suppose, would be the most fitting title. Of course, she may perceive it as simply using a shrewd mind to assist her. This estate also happens to be my own.”

As he shrugged nonchalantly, Rem scrutinized the room and garden.

It was easy to assume the place belonged to Madelin, but that assumption had been incorrect. Still, she understood well how opulent the building and its decorations appeared.

“Nevertheless, I don’t wish to spend time leisurely, nor feel inclined to do so.”

“Such frank speech is indeed refreshing. Again, I wish you well, Lady Rem.”

He chuckled softly, and Belstet once more bowed deeply before exiting the room.

While contemplating whether to call out to him, Rem found no words, and thinking she’d never manage to halt him, she remained silent.

Upon Belstet’s departure, the guards who had been waiting outside re-entered.

Under their intense scrutiny, Rem turned her gaze to the scene outside once again.

Just then, a dragon fed earlier was seen taking off, launching into the sky with the man who had provided it food.

“——”

The ferocious and terrifying dragons could very well prove exhilarating when ridden.

Of course, given the precarious circumstances, there lay no room for enjoyment. She had arrived here from Gwararu in less than a day’s journey, pondering everything along their paths.

Healing the injured Flopp; she had been brought to this place—

“—The imperial capital, Rupugana.”

The city where Abel had been deposed from the throne and must now reclaim.

As Rem gazed towards the Crystal Palace at the heart of this city, her captivity remained an unwavering reality. She touched on the unopenable windows, testing the sensation of glass against her fingertips while she wondered.

“…Will he…”

Upon discovering that she was absent, how painful would it be for him?

The acute pain clutched Rem’s heart like a dagger.

“—When Flopp quietly opened his eyes, he was greeted by the ceiling of an unfamiliar room.”

“`

 

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