Burgos was quieter than ever before.
Unlike Clifford, which stayed close to its citizens, Burgos’s castle sat atop a massive hill.
The nation’s whispers, big and small, couldn’t reach here, and those who had secretly sensed the winds of war had long since cut ties. Everything was quiet, dark, and deeply subdued.
Timothy and the ministers who had entered Clifford yanked their horses’ reins hard as they galloped toward the palace. Seeing the Burgos flag waving with torches, the gates opened in advance.
Tap tap tap!
Neigh!
The matter was urgent. Though there were mages in Clifford, they were said to be nearly incapacitated, and palace shadows had followed the traitor.
Clifford was making substantial preparations too. Other traitors had probably been identified as well, and even if not, they couldn’t expect any help.
Timothy ran straight to the central audience chamber where Damon was as soon as he dismounted. If they were going to start a war, moving quickly would be advantageous to them – wouldn’t getting the king’s decision sooner bring them one step closer to victory?
Creak.
“Ah, Timothy.”
“Your Majesty. I have returned.”
Damon was in the middle of discussing military operations with the nobles. Countless noble eyes poured onto Timothy. He steadied his breath and reported the information obtained from Clifford.
“Yes. How many envoys were said to have died?”
“Rumors in the streets said two or three. But this isn’t the matter worth focusing on.”
“Two or three? That’s quite a difference.”
“Most of the mages are stationed in Clifford. Including Lord Ian. They seem unable to return to Bariel as they’re incapacitated, nearly like ordinary people. This is reliable information as it was confirmed by our own spies planted in the palace.”
The nobles murmured at Timothy’s report. They’d never seen such a case in their lives. It was surprising enough that most mages had left the capital, but to be in such serious condition they couldn’t return? Wasn’t this a heaven-sent opportunity?
One noble added excitedly:
“Your Majesty. If the mages are in such a state, shouldn’t we move in immediately, regardless of justification? It might be better to capture the mages and prevent Bariel’s intervention.”
“Correct. To capture the mages we’ll need to go deep into the empire’s central capital, but it’s within reach right now. We can’t miss this opportunity.”
“Now I understand why Clifford was trying to buy time. They’re waiting for the mages to recover. It seems they’ve agreed to some alliance with Bariel, and they clearly plan to use the mages for defense.”
“How long has it been since we heard from Ruswena? When they raised that Black Moon thing?”
“Not even three days. The magical power consumption from that seems to have been significant.”
“They say they went to get Lord Ian, but I don’t understand how things ended up like this. Did Lord Ian have some personal issues?”
“How would we know about mages’ problems? We can just capture and ask them. Your Majesty. Let’s proceed without delay. For justification, say we’re going to retrieve our envoys who have fallen ill.”
“Yes. Ask them to open the way. They’ll surely refuse, and we can use that as our pretext to enter.”
The nobles smoothly crafted a script, seizing the moment. Since the other side had officially acknowledged the envoys’ illness, what could they say if Burgos wanted to retrieve them directly?
Of course, since the escort would be military-sized, Clifford would never open their borders – but that would provide the small spark needed for war.
“And the palace seemed to anticipate our entry and the traitor’s contact. They had shadows following us.”
“Oh? Any casualties?”
“One died, but it was instant so nothing had leaked.”
Clifford had noticed Burgos’s intelligence operation. This meant that regardless of how many envoys died, the fact that they ‘died’ had leaked. They knew it was only a matter of time before Burgos found an excuse to cause trouble.
Damon rested his chin on his hand in thought before snapping his fingers.
“When saying we’ve come to retrieve the envoys at the border, put military doctors at the front.”
Since they could claim the envoys died due to supply and medical confusion during the chaos, putting military doctors at the front would maximize the justification for treatment. The nobles and ministers nodded while noting down Damon’s order.
“Understood. Shall we prepare for deployment right away?”
“Yes. Have everything ready before dawn.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
When Damon gestured for everyone to withdraw, the nobles moved in unison to leave the audience chamber.
As Timothy tried to follow them, he suddenly felt something odd. One minister who had come with him wasn’t moving at all. When Timothy looked at him questioningly, he prostrated himself and addressed Damon.
“Your Majesty. I have something personal to report, would you honor me with a private audience?”
Damon tilted his head curiously as he stood from his desk shuffling papers. He looked at Timothy as if asking if he knew what this was about, but he had no idea either.
Damon muttered in a low voice.
“Asking for my time for personal business? How presumptuous. How dare you call it an honor?”
“Your Majesty. I have something I must tell you.”
“Fine. Let’s hear it then. Timothy, you may leave.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Timothy glanced at his subordinate as he left the audience chamber.
With everyone gone, just the two remained. He slightly raised his upper body to look up at Damon, who sat with crossed legs, his eyes telling him to speak quickly. Fatigue had accumulated from the long meeting, and his gaze warned of severe punishment if this proved trivial.
In that case, there was no choice but to be direct.
“I believe Timothy is a traitor.”
Damon froze. He had heard similar words in his previous life too. Though from a different person.
“Do you understand what you’re saying?”
“When contacting the palace’s spies, there was a third force besides the shadows. They seemed to be looking for Timothy, but without any killing intent or negative reaction. Timothy clearly has some kind of relationship inside Clifford.”
The subordinate was so nervous he could hear his own heart pounding. He knew what it meant to report against a superior.
If the king took Timothy’s side here, he would fall completely with nowhere to go. But if the king harbored even a small doubt? Timothy’s position would become his.
An opportunity to push aside his superior and advance one step higher, and moreover to gain the king’s deeper trust. He was essentially participating in a life-or-death gamble.
“…”
But no answer came.
The subordinate slightly turned his head to look at Damon. He wore a very strange expression. He seemed angry, regretful, and even showed frustration and sadness.
Faced with this completely unexpected royal reaction, the subordinate pressed his head to the floor again and shouted.
“I stake everything including my life on this truth, Your Majesty!”
“Lower your voice.”
Damon frowned while holding his forehead.
Just like in his previous life, Timothy was betraying Burgos. The same result despite different relationship depths and distances. This was like a sentence being passed on Damon, who wanted to change Burgos’s future. No matter what he does, the future won’t change.
If he couldn’t change even one small life like Timothy’s, how could he even twist the massive flow of Burgos’ fate?
All these questions transformed into Ian’s voice, ravaging Damon’s mind.
Crash!
Shatter!
Damon threw the ornament in his hand against the wall. His breathing grew rapid, and with each sound of breaking objects, Ian’s voice seemed to scatter.
The subordinate trembled and lay flat, waiting for the king’s anger to subside. Timothy was the delegation leader and one of the king’s closest confidants. Such a reaction was normal if he had betrayed them. He just hoped none of the shattered glass would reach him.
“Hah, hah…”
Damon’s rage continued for a while before only his rough breathing echoed quietly. He collapsed into his chair and searched for a cigarette.
“Does Timothy have a family?”
“Ah, y-yes. A wife and children.”
“Timothy will lead this war’s vanguard. And you—”
Whoosh, with smoke mixed with a sigh, Damon’s cruel order dispersed.
“In the meantime, capture his wife and children. His betrayal must be paid with his kin’s life. I’ll show him what pain is worse than death is.”
A brutal murmur. The subordinate kept bowing his head, not even noticing cold sweat running down his back.
What would he do to the wife and children while Timothy was away? For a moment, he recalled the smile of Timothy’s wife who had served him warm food previously. But there was no turning back now. He squeezed his eyes shut and focused only on his future self.
“And you.”
“Yes, yes Your Majesty.”
“Tell Timothy you pleaded to me that you couldn’t participate in the war. Say you’ll stay in Burgos in exchange for being relieved of your position, and that you’ll take good care of Timothy’s family.”
Timothy would surely wonder what message needed to be delivered directly to the king, bypassing him.
Though slightly unclear, there wouldn’t be time to doubt during the impending war. The subordinate nodded again in understanding.
“Yes, Your Majesty. I shall execute it perfectly!”
“…Leave.”
The gamble was successful. The subordinate barely made it out of the audience chamber on trembling legs. He held no doubts about the king believing his words without any evidence beyond a single suggestion. He simply thought the king must have had some suspicions about Timothy already.
‘Timothy. In the end, again-‘
Damon stubbed out his cigarette and kicked the desk again. Though outwardly pretending to work for Burgos and himself, some things never changed.
This was disappointment and anger toward an individual, but ultimately also frustration at the immutability of the future he wanted to change.
“No. No no, it can’t be.”
This time would be different. Small pebbles might stay in place, but the river of Burgos that Damon led would chart a different course. It would flood Bariel, fill the imperial palace, and he would admire the brilliantly sparkling surface from above.
This life’s Burgos is different. This life’s self is different. Damon muttered this while clutching his head. It was like a ghost’s whisper floating through the vast audience chamber.
***
“You couldn’t meet Timothy?”
“Nope. Some other guy was there? That palace traitor died and the shadows took the body, so we just bounced around.”
While Beric reported while chomping down meat, Barsabe kept her head lowered as if ashamed.
Unlike Beric, Barsabe had almost never failed an assigned mission before. She would rather die than return without any results.
But all they’d done outside was run across roofs. She felt like she’d tarnished the Imperial Guard’s reputation.
“I’m sorry. The crowds were so thick it was hard to follow, and most importantly, we returned to the palace first, judging that avoiding detection by the shadows was the priority.”
“No, it was an appropriate judgment on your part. In the current situation, it would be strange if Clifford had learned that you two were involved in the contact. Well done, Barsabe.”
“What about me? I worked super hard too. Jumping roofs, climbing up, getting my head stuck in the railing, look at this. The wound on my neck. Ugh, it’ll take me a year to heal.”
Beric whined about his scratch-level injury while chewing meat. Ian couldn’t help but laugh at his blatant request for praise.
“You must have worked hard too.”
“Must have? Not must have, it’s what I did!”
“Right. Eat plenty. I heard the palace chef has memorized your name.”
‘Eat plenty’ was both praise and reward. Just as Beric laughed “Kuahaha” and grabbed meat with both hands-
Tap tap tap!
Bang!
“Ah, you scared me!”
“Big trouble!”
Palace servants rushed to the annex where the mages were and threw open the doors without warning. The mages who were slowly getting back on their feet all stopped and looked toward the door.
“B-Burgos’s army has made an appearance at the border!”