An uncomfortable, anxious energy filled the conference room. The mages leaned against the walls, stealing glances at each other and occasionally meeting the eyes of the Imperial Defense Department personnel or magic swordsmen. They looked equally uneasy.
In the center of the conference room, Ian, Jeirutt, and Tweller sat waiting for Prince Noah.
Tap tap.
Ian sat slouched on the sofa, drumming his fingers on the armrest. Tweller and Jeirutt, seated nearby, couldn’t tell where his unfocused gaze was fixed. They could only hope it wasn’t somewhere too distant.
“Lord Ian.”
When Tweller called his name, Ian simply shifted his eyes toward him. It was remarkably disrespectful for addressing a fellow minister with decades of experience, but Tweller chose to ignore it.
The boy seemed to have drawn an invisible line. And now that he was crossing it, others naturally lowered their guard.
“Before Prince Noah arrives, shall we discuss the changes? I think it would be beneficial for us too.”
“……”
But Ian brushed it off, redirecting his gaze forward. Some Imperial Defense subordinates bristled but quickly settled down.
The atmosphere Ian was projecting was overwhelming. Even ministers were shrugging it off. Who in this room could say anything to Ian?
‘Like a watercolor with all its colors faded away.’
Jeirutt watched Ian while turning an unlit cigarette between his fingers. There was no external injury, but clearly something significant had changed within him. They called it a side effect of the magic, but was that really all?
Perhaps the side effect merely cracked the shell, revealing a silent transformation that had been sleeping within? Nothing else could explain Ian’s eerily calm yet strange demeanor.
Beric repeatedly stood and sat, and was the first to notice Prince Noah’s approach.
“He’s coming.”
At his murmur, all the Bariel representatives tensed—or more precisely, they turned their attention toward Ian.
Creak.
“Lord Ian. You’re awake?”
Noah entered and immediately checked Ian’s condition. It was a miracle that he had no injuries beyond minor scratches. Thanks to Beric who had caught him immediately.
As he pulled up a chair, Noah sensed the strange atmosphere. Everyone was focused on Ian and himself. That was natural, but somehow different. Noah sat down slowly and casually asked:
“Why is everyone acting this way? Is there a problem?”
“Is there a problem?”
Ian smirked, echoing Noah’s words. Tweller pretended not to hear and put a cigarette in his mouth, while Jeirutt struggled to maintain his composure.
“Lord Ian.”
“Look at our current state. Does everything seem fine to you?”
His brief gesture indicated the mages’ injuries. The mages covered their wounds and smiled awkwardly, as if to say, “Ian’s not himself right now, Your Highness, please just go along with it.”
“I express my regrets for the mages’ injuries.”
“Regrets aren’t enough.”
“Lord Ian, what are you trying to say?”
“I—”
Ian started to speak but swallowed his words with a sigh. He kept rubbing his forehead, frowning deeply.
If it hadn’t been Ian the bastard’s body, or if he had trained a bit more at the Imperial Palace, or if he had made better choices and decisions before that… would the five mages who came here for him still be missing from this room?
Ian closed his eyes tightly, controlling his emotions. He wanted to destroy everything, tear it all down, and turn back time. Ah, was this why Damon went back in time?
“…Five mages haven’t returned. I consider this a grave matter, and I believe Bariel has paid too high a price for supporting Clifford.”
Prince Noah swallowed dryly. It was an undeniable truth.
Even if Clifford were to fall to Burgos, that would simply mean Bariel’s first line of defense had been breached. While the monster infestation would directly harm Clifford, Bariel could still devise its own countermeasures when the time came.
“All of Clifford is grateful for the sacrifice of Bariel’s mages, and that gratitude is etched in our hearts. We will express this sentiment without reservation in our official alliance with Bariel.”
“With what? Wine?”
Ian tilted his head and sneered. What significance would Clifford’s gratitude have for Bariel? And what honor would it bring to him?
As Prince Noah’s face hardened, one of his subordinates shouted:
“Lord Ian! Your words are excessive!”
“What’s excessive is your manner. Where did you learn to interrupt your superiors’ conversation? Look at yourself—your voice is the loudest one here.”
It was a rebuke for a mere general daring to raise his voice when even Jeirutt and Tweller remained silent.
Prince Noah raised his hand to pull back his subordinate and asked calmly:
“Lord Ian. Tell me what you want. As you know, morning is approaching, and we have no time.”
“Clifford should not consider locating and retrieving the mages as Bariel’s responsibility alone.”
It was true that magic swordsmen and mages had an advantage in finding missing comrades. Therefore, Clifford was naturally focusing on preparing for battle rather than recovering the mages.
Struck at his core, Prince Noah quickly composed his expression and shook his head.
“What are you saying? We’re also focused on finding the mages. We’re closely monitoring contact between the Kings of Burgos and Ruswena. We’ve formed special teams for reconnaissance, and we’ll certainly take action when information comes in.”
“That’s not enough. Only mages can face other mages, and even with great concessions, Clifford’s soldier count falls far short. Especially considering Ruswena’s participation and their continued support.”
“I heard Bariel is sending reinforcements.”
“Those are Bariel forces.”
Ian retorted firmly, as if telling him to talk sense. He rubbed his left temple with a sigh, then warned in a stern tone:
“I’ll give you one day.”
“One day?”
“If either Burgos or Ruswena is holding any mages as prisoners, Clifford must accommodate their position as much as possible to bring back my subordinates.”
Bariel was Bariel, and Clifford was Clifford. Ian had no intention of losing his people while considering another country’s circumstances. No, he was determined not to lose them.
“Prioritize the safety of mages in battle. If that becomes difficult with Ruswena’s participation, issue a conscription order. Isn’t Clifford’s large population one of its advantages?”
Conscription—ordering non-soldiers to participate in war. Citizens living near the wall were already involved, but most were simply holding their breath, waiting for news of the war’s end.
Noah rose from his seat in protest.
“That’s impossible.”
“Why? The palace must already know the number of eligible conscripts.”
“That’s—!”
“What? With Bariel’s army coming, did you calculate that Clifford’s citizens could shed a little less blood?”
“Lord Ian!”
“If it’s difficult to face them, then Clifford should bleed itself dry to fill that gap. Until we confirm the fate of the mages and they all return to me, Bariel won’t be helping Clifford—we’ll be fighting for ourselves.”
Ian nodded at Tweller and Jeirutt, confirming their agreement. Since both the Imperial Defense Department and the Imperial Guard had been ordered to return the mages, there was no room to object to Ian’s decision.
“I said one day.”
Tap tap. Ian lightly drummed the table as a warning.
“If securing the mages remains impossible after that, I will personally let everything flow away.”
This implied he might stimulate the fissure sleeping beneath Clifford’s soil. It was also a declaration that, until his subordinates returned, he would view Clifford not as a bulwark against Burgos but simply as another country at war.
The fissure? Monsters? Even if everything were covered in calamity, Bariel would survive. Ian could stake everything on this promise.
He swore to the gods watching from above, to his Bariel existing in both past and future, and to everything that stirred his heart and Naum’s.
Prince Noah rubbed his face and didn’t hide his sigh.
“Lord Ian, it seems you’re making this decision due to the magic’s side effects. Why don’t you rest a little more and we’ll talk again?”
“For someone who just said morning is coming and we have no time, your words are inconsistent.”
He would not back down. Ian firmly refused and crossed his legs.
Deep in his chest, an inexplicable ripple arose. He failed to recognize it as sorrow and overwhelming burden.
His mind was filled only with the faces of the five missing mages. Those who had supported him when he faced the elder. Those who had told him to endure if he wanted to endure, or to retreat if he wanted to retreat.
They had fulfilled their duty, but what was he doing now? How had he lost those who followed him?
“…I can’t do this twice.”
Ian covered his face with both hands and muttered. Watching people face death simply because they were his people—this was truly something he couldn’t bear to experience again.
“Lord Ian?”
Jeirutt called out to him, cigarette in hand. Was the magic’s side effect worsening? He quickly looked around for Akorella, but she was holed up in her makeshift laboratory, out of sight.
Instead, Hale approached Ian and asked:
“Lord Ian, are you alright? Should I ask for more sleeping medicine?”
“No.”
Ian pushed Hale’s hand away and shook his head. Stay back, his gesture said. He signaled the same rejection to Beric with his eyes. You too, stay away.
“Beric. You’re part of the Imperial Guard, so follow Captain Jeirutt’s orders in battle.”
“What? No way!”
“You have no choice. That’s the chain of command.”
“Old ma—I mean, Captain Jeirutt! I need to stay by Ian’s side. Look at his condition! He’s a bit woozy… damn it. What I mean is, I’ll serve him diligently, Captain Jeirutt.”
Beric raised his hand and pleaded with Jeirutt. Judging by his exposed fangs, bringing him along would be problematic. Jeirutt nodded, crushing out his cigarette.
“Very well, Lord Ian. Please keep Beric with you. He’s insufficiently trained and wouldn’t be much help in operations anyway.”
“Hey! That’s kind of offensive in its own way. Can’t you put it more nicely?”
Few could handle and manage Ian. It was unfortunate that Beric was one of them. Perhaps it would have been better if Lomaundro were here.
“……”
Ian responded with silence, and everyone in the conference room keenly observed his shifting mood.
But that didn’t last long. Ian stood up, straightening his outer garment.
“Prince Noah. I hope everything brightens when morning comes. Clifford might find it difficult to see the sun in the days ahead.”
If he dedicated everything to saving the mages, and if that caused the fissure to open and monsters to flood the land, Clifford would become a land without sunlight.
Prince Noah rose abruptly to face Ian.
“Fine, I understand. If we bring back the mages, you’ll cooperate as before. I’m asking for your help too. Magic swordsmen, please come with me for a moment.”
“Yes, understood.”
“We’ll send a message first.”
Whether there were prisoners, their conditions, and how they might be handed over—Prince Noah decided to prepare messengers and left the conference room.
Jeirutt completely crushed out his cigarette, signaled to the magic swordsmen, and followed the prince. Tweller remained seated, looking up at Ian.
“…Lord Ian.”
The weight the boy carried seemed substantial. How could a young thing just up from the borderlands manage it? Tweller smiled at Ian, who gazed down at him impassively.
“Would you talk with me for a moment? There’s much that’s suspicious about King Damon and other matters, but I can’t find any clues. I’d like to seek answers with your insight.”
Ian sat down again, signaling his willingness to accept, and gestured for everyone to leave. Tweller did the same.
The subordinates left the conference room with reluctant steps, leaving only the two of them in the now-quiet space.