Chapter 719

"There is currently a legion-scale defensive force stationed in Travelga," Harald said, his head bowed like a sinner awaiting judgment.

He braced his tilted upper body with his remaining hand. "If the Agent of the Saint arrives there at the head of the entire army, His Grace will never permit you entry. I fervently hope that will not be the case, but...."

His fist tightened. The hesitation lasted only a heartbeat.

Grinding his teeth, Harald continued, "Those loyal commanders and soldiers will carry out their orders as they always have—even if they must do so against their will."

Ian did not respond.

"Though you have achieved a victory worthy of legend, the defense forces have already suffered grievous losses because of my arrogance and misjudgment. The damage may even surpass that of the last erosion."

Desperation crept into Harald’s voice. Ian’s expression did not change. Only his eyes narrowed slightly.

"If blood is shed again here, there is no telling how long recovery will take. So I beg you, Agent of the Saint—no... Golden Demigod."

Without pausing for breath, Harald bowed deeply, nearly prostrating himself.

"Please... show even the slightest mercy...." He raised his right hand high, palm exposed, as though hoping Ian would take it.

Ian did not.

"That’s disappointing, Harald," Ian said coldly, one corner of his mouth lifting.

Harald froze, his breath caught in his throat.

"I expected you might beg me to spare the Archduke," Ian continued, looking down at the trembling hand, "but to think you would dare take the people of the North hostage."

In his mind, he weighed whether to draw his sword and take Harald’s head or simply sever the one arm he had left.

"Th-That can’t be so, Demigod! How could I dare attempt such a crude ploy to escape your wrath!"

Harald barely forced the words out.

"It is only right that both His Grace and I pay for our arrogance and misjudgment in blood. I never once intended to defy that natural order!"

At last, one of Ian’s eyebrows lifted slightly.

As his gaze settled once more on the crown of Harald’s bowed head, the desperate voice pressed on. "They are merely fulfilling their duty. They are people who will one day serve you. So please...."

Harald swallowed hard and pressed his face closer to the bed.

"Grant me the chance to stand at the vanguard of the legion. Even if I must resort to lies, I will ensure the gates are opened without a single drop of blood being spilled."

His tone carried a resolve to accept any disgrace or dishonor without complaint. There was no need to ponder his intent deeply. He meant to keep Ian’s existence hidden.

"After that, I will willingly accept any punishment you deem fit. So please—"

"I refuse that proposal." Ian cut him off at once, his voice flat.

However, that was not why Harald stiffened.

Ian had reached out and grasped the trembling hand still raised above Harald’s head.

"If it were only me, that would be one thing, but I have no desire to conceal the achievements of the warriors who fought and bled for their lives."

At the same time, he extended the Willful Grasp and lifted Harald upright.

Watching him straighten, Ian added, "And besides, the only head I want is the Archduke’s. I have no desire for yours."

Harald blinked, then turned sharply toward him. "B-But, Demigod, I too must pay for my sins—"

"I never said I would absolve you," Ian replied, releasing his grip. "If you truly care about the defense forces, then be prepared to defy the Imperial command, General."

"Pardon?" Harald asked after a beat, confusion clouding his face. The thought had clearly never crossed his mind.

Meeting his gaze, Ian said, "What lies beyond is not only the archdemons. His Highness Hyked, the former Crown Prince, is still alive."

Only then did Harald’s eyes widen as if they might tear. Ian had sensed it earlier, but this confirmed it. This man knew nothing of what was unfolding in the capital. The Archduke had withheld the news from him.

"And he has reached the Eastern Front, leading a legion of survivors. Civil war will soon consume the Central Region. It may already have begun."

"Lu Entre... my gods...." A low groan slipped from Harald’s lips.

Ian did not look away, even as Harald’s gaze trembled. "Do you understand now? If things remain as they are, the North will inevitably be drawn into that civil war as well."

The turmoil in Harald’s gaze rapidly settled.

"So when you return, persuade the other generals. And whatever decision the next Archduke of the North makes, ensure there is sufficient justification to oppose it. That will be the price you pay for your sins."

Harald blinked several times before parting his lips. "But if you have already made your decision, Demigod... how could we oppose it again?"

"You misunderstand. I am not speaking of myself."

So that was why his expression was like that.

Ian swallowed a dry chuckle. "Once the Archduke has paid his price, the lawful successor will take his place, in accordance with due order."

"My goodness," Harald breathed.

Ian let a faint smile curl his lips. Harald was related to the Archduke by marriage.

I don’t know how many children he has, but...

Most likely, the next Archduke would be the one married to Harald’s child. That person would carry not only Harald’s backing, but Ian’s shadow as well. And Harald, of course, would now move exactly as Ian wished.

It was the cleanest path to the outcome he wanted.

"So it was true," Harald murmured. "You’re a demigod who does not seek to rule."

Ian’s brow drew together.

Before he could respond, Harald added, "Do you intend to seize this civil war as an opportunity to turn against the Empire? As Karha once did in ages past, will you fight for the North’s freedom and liberation—"

"I don’t possess even a shred of such noble intent." Ian cut him off, his frown deepening.

This is driving me insane.

"I don’t wish for the Empire to collapse. I simply have no desire to involve myself in someone else’s family feud and spill innocent blood for it. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Demigod," Harald answered at once. "So when the time comes, you intend to end the war yourself."

He looked at Ian with eyes that gleamed as if he’d never been on his deathbed at all, a strange smile even touching his lips.

Why that look again?

Ian smacked his lips as he uncrossed his legs. "Then our discussion is concluded, General."

"If I may, there is just one more thing I wish to ask," Harald said quietly.

Ian paused mid-rise, then settled back into his seat.

"How do you intend to enter Travelga without shedding blood?" Harald asked.

"You really prefer certainty." Ian shook his head and let out a low chuckle. "No matter how loyal they are, a garrison would never dare raise arms against royal blood. Would they?"

Harald’s brow twitched. "If you mean the Saintess, then she—"

"She is treated as such, but officially she has renounced her status. I am well aware." Ian replied evenly, then rose from the chair once more and added, "Currently, an Imperial Princess is accompanying the Crimson Legion in disguise."

Harald’s eyes widened a heartbeat later, nearly bulging from their sockets.

"I’ve given a patient far too many shocks," Ian said lightly, turning away.

"From here on, focus solely on rest and recovery. I intend to return to Travelga as soon as possible."

He did not forget to add that as he walked toward the door.

Harald stared blankly at his retreating back before bowing deeply. "I will obey, Demigod...."

He’s not going to rest at all,

Ian thought, but said nothing more as he opened the door.

"Let’s return to the camp."

It was time to confirm the Saintess’s condition and the Princess’s state of mind.

***

"Stand in line properly! Hey, you—no cutting! Yes, you! Get to the back! You think meals are a joke?"

The camp had grown lively before anyone realized it. The air was thick with the musty yet savory smell of porridge, preserved rations thrown together and boiled in large pots.

Near the cluster of barbarian warriors waiting with wooden bowls in hand, Thesaya’s irritated voice rang out without pause.

Seated atop a stack of supply crates and sipping from her cup, she suddenly snapped her head to the side. She had heard Ian and Mev approaching.

"...Great Warrior."

"Great Warrior...."

The warriors in line lowered their heads at once. Ian gave a brief nod and continued forward without breaking stride.

His gaze brushed past Mukapa, who stood among them holding two plates. Wrapped in a fur cloak like the others, Mukapa had bandages wound tightly around his arms and torso.

"Ian, how long am I supposed to put up with these brainless—

ack

?" Thesaya jumped down mid-complaint, only to yelp as she was jerked upward. She was lifted clean off the ground.

"Ian! Wait! Let’s talk for a second!" She flailed wildly, kicking and twisting as she tried to pry herself free.

Ian did not even look at her. "Later, Thesa. We’ll talk later."

"That’s cruel! Why do you only listen to Redhead!"

He passed her without slowing, Mev walking beside him as though nothing unusual had occurred. Thesaya’s protests gradually faded. Her eyes squeezed shut, and her body went limp in midair.

One more day of rest won’t fix this.

Ian released Willful Grasp, letting her drop back onto her feet as he continued. His gaze swept across the legionaries as he walked.

Not a single one of them was uninjured.

"Captain, captain!"

A large, surly-looking man limped out from between the tents ahead of them. He was nearly as broad as Miguel.

It was Trude, captain of the Dragon Slayer’s Warriors mercenary band.

"What is it?" Ian asked, glancing briefly at the splint securing the man’s left arm.

Trude shrugged as if it were nothing and matched Ian’s pace, lowering his voice. "I heard you ordered the ones hit by those void monsters to be gathered. Is that true?"

"It is. I hear quite a few mercenaries were affected as well." Ian nodded.

Trude clicked his tongue. "We were up on the wall, remember? Those bastards hid it well. Then, half a day later, they started dropping like flies."

That did not surprise Ian. Mercenaries valued their lives above all else, yet they despised letting others see them wounded or weakened.

"You’re fine, though?"

"Of course.

Heh

." Trude bared his yellowed teeth in a grin, the scars across his face twisting with the motion. "This battle finally made Karha acknowledge me as a warrior, didn’t it? After that, I wouldn’t regret dying. Well, not that I actually want to die."

Even this one received that Butcher’s blessing?

"Good enough. I’ll see them after sunset. Know that I might not be able to help."

"If you’re the one looking, captain, there’s gotta be a way. That’s why I came to ask."

𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

Still limping, Trude struggled to keep pace. A servile smile spread across his rugged face, ill-fitting on a man of his size.

"Could you take a look at my men first? I mean, they’re practically your personal troops. There’s an order to these things—"

"You must be worried," Ian said with a low chuckle.

His face immediately returned to its usual blank calm as he glanced at Trude. "Fine. I’ll make an exception once. If you don’t want to lose the rest of your teeth, go wait quietly."

"Yes, captain." Trude turned without a moment’s hesitation and limped away without looking back.

"Honestly...."

Putting on a show of loyalty.

Ian snorted under his breath and followed the direction Mev showed.

Fwoosh—

Beyond the brazier where sacred flames burned steadily, the priests’ modest tents stood in a neat row. Off to one side, a sturdy, roofed carriage waited.

That one’s stubbornly clinging to life too.

Two Imperial warhorses stood before it, along with Mukapa’s small pony. The three clustered together, chewing placidly. They were among the few mounts fortunate enough to survive.

"Her Highness is out as well," said Mev.

Ian’s gaze naturally shifted toward the side of the carriage. Through the open door, Seras sat on the edge of the floorboards with her legs dangling outside.

She was listlessly stirring a bowl of rationed porridge. Phaden and Alex stood on either side of her, their expressions equally grim.

"Agent of the Saint!"

The moment she noticed him approaching, Seras sprang to her feet and set the bowl down with unnecessary force.

Phaden and Alex snapped their heads around as well.

Ian met her clear blue eyes and smiled faintly. "It seems the porridge doesn’t suit your taste."