Leon spent the next two weeks buried in books.
Aldric had been surprisingly generous once he realized Leon was genuinely interested in magical theory. He'd provided texts- some basic, some advanced, a few that were apparently restricted to senior mages only but which Aldric handed over with a conspiratorial whisper about how "the High Mage surely already knows this material."
Leon didn't. He very much didn't.
But he learned.
Magic, it turned out, was mathematics with intent. The circles weren't just pretty patterns- they were equations. Force vectors. Energy distribution diagrams. Resonance frequencies. All concepts Leon understood intimately from engineering, just expressed in a visual language he'd never seen before.
A shield matrix was essentially a load-bearing structure that distributed incoming force across multiple anchor points. An offensive spell was a directed energy release with specific trajectory calculations. Healing magic was... okay, healing magic made no sense from a physics standpoint, but two out of three wasn't bad.
Leon's tent became a workspace. He'd borrowed chalk and slate from the camp supplies and covered every surface with diagrams. Circles within circles. Angles and ratios. Modifications to existing formations that should-theoretically- improve their efficiency by factors of two, three, sometimes five.
He tested them with Aldric every few days. The older mage would power Leon's modified formations, and they'd measure the results. Stronger shields using less energy. Faster spell activation. Better synchronization between multiple casters.
It worked. It actually worked.
"This is revolutionary," Aldric had breathed after a particularly successful test. "High Mage, you're going to change how we approach magical warfare entirely."
Leon had just nodded, too focused on the next problem to properly process the praise. The formations worked, yes, but they could be better. More efficient. More adaptable to different types of magic.
He barely left his tent.
Food appeared at his door- soldiers bringing meals, mages checking if he needed anything. He ate without tasting, slept in brief bursts when exhaustion forced him, and spent every other moment working.
People talked. Of course they talked.
He heard the whispers when he did emerge for necessities. Soldiers speaking in awed tones about "powerful energy waves" emanating from the High Mage's tent. Mages speculating about what incredible magic he must be developing.
Leon wanted to tell them he was just drawing math problems in chalk, but that would ruin the mystique. And honestly, the mystique was the only thing keeping him alive at this point.
On the tenth day, word arrived that the king was marching north with reinforcements.
On the twelfth day, scouts reported the army would arrive within two days.
And with the army, apparently, came someone Leon had been hearing about in increasing frequency.
"Have you heard about the Sword Saint?" a young mage asked during one of the rare moments Leon emerged to stretch his legs.
Leon hadn't, but he learned quickly. The camp was buzzing with excitement.
The king's personal guard. The greatest warrior in the kingdom's history. An unmatched swordsman whose magic made even the senior mages look like children playing with toys.
"They say she can cut through a mountain," someone claimed.
"I heard she once held off an entire gate breach alone for three days," another added.
"She's a beauty too," a soldier said with a dreamy sigh. "Like something out of legends."
Leon absorbed this information with mild interest. Another powerful person. Great. One more individual who could probably expose him as a fraud with a casual glance.
"Your magic might finally surpass hers, High Mage," Aldric said during their evening testing session. "Though I imagine it will be close."
Leon made a noncommittal sound, focused on adjusting the angles of a defensive formation. He didn't care about comparisons. He cared about not dying when that gate opened.
Aldric took his silence as confirmation. "Of course. You already know your abilities exceed even the Sword Saint's. Forgive me for stating the obvious."
Leon didn't bother correcting him. He'd learned that corrections just made people more convinced of his false modesty.
The testing session revealed promising results. The new shield formation could be maintained with three mages instead of five, freeing up combat casters for offensive work. If they could implement this across the entire defensive line...
Leon returned to his tent and worked through the night.
THE KING'S ARRIVAL
Two weeks after Leon had first laid eyes on the gate, the king's army arrived.
The camp stirred to life at dawn with the sounds of horns and marching feet. Leon emerged from his tent, blinking in the morning light, his eyes gritty from lack of sleep. He'd finally cracked the synchronization problem for multi-mage offensive formations, and the solution had kept him up until the early hours.
Soldiers were already forming up in parade order. The mages gathered in their own section, robes cleaned and pressed for the occasion. Even the camp itself seemed to have been tidied overnight- tents straightened, equipment organized, everything prepared to make a good impression.
Leon joined the assembled crowd, standing near the back with his borrowed staff. Someone had cleaned his robes while he slept, he noticed. The deep blue fabric no longer showed chalk stains, and the silver embroidery gleamed.
The army appeared on the horizon first as a dust cloud, then as a mass of moving bodies. Two thousand soldiers in formation, supply wagons, siege equipment, and what looked like mobile fortification materials. This wasn't an expedition anymore. This was a full military deployment.
At the head of the column rode the king's banner, and beneath it, two figures on horseback.
The army entered the camp with professional precision, formations wheeling into predetermined positions. It was impressive to watch- a machine of human organization operating with choreographed efficiency.
The two riders approached the command pavilion where Lord Casimir waited with his senior officers. As they drew closer, Leon got his first clear look at them.
The king was easy to identify- crown, regal bearing, the way everyone bowed. He was younger than Leon expected, maybe fifty, with a warrior's build going soft around the middle. He rode his horse with the careful precision of someone who didn't do it often but wanted to look good doing it.
And beside him...
Leon understood immediately why the camp had been buzzing for two weeks.
She dismounted first, moving with liquid grace despite the armor. The sword at her side caught the morning light, gleaming like captured sunlight. Every movement was economical, professional, but there was something almost artistic about it- like watching a dancer who happened to be wearing steel.
She turned to hold the king's horse as he dismounted, and Leon saw her face properly for the first time.
Beautiful didn't quite cover it. She was striking in a way that made the word "beauty" seem inadequate. Strong features, the kind that belonged on statues of warrior queens. Her hair visible below her helmet was dark, pulled back in a practical style that somehow still looked elegant. And there was something in the way she carried herself- a confidence that seemed earned rather than assumed.
Leon wasn't the only one staring. Every man in the vicinity had stopped what they were doing. Even some of the women wore expressions of frank admiration.
She was tall too. As she stood beside the king, she easily stood a head taller than the crowd, her presence filling the space in a way that had nothing to do with physical size and everything to do with the weight of who she was.
Regal. That was the word. She looked regal in a way that seemed deserved, like she'd been born to stand at the right hand of kings and had spent her life proving it.
She swept a look around the camp, her gaze moving across the assembled soldiers and mages with practiced assessment.
Leon found himself hoping, absurdly, that she'd notice him. Maybe their eyes would meet. Maybe she'd give some sign of recognition for the supposed "High Mage" everyone kept talking about.
Her gaze passed over him without pausing.
Leon felt a stab of disappointment, followed immediately by self-awareness that made him want to laugh at himself. Of course she hadn't noticed him. Why would she? He didn't have any outstanding features. He definitely wasn't star-level handsome. No one had ever described him as such.
People thought he had charm, he comforted himself. Though now that he thought about it, no one had ever actually told him that either. He'd just sort of assumed it must be true based on... well, based on nothing really.
He was a completely average-looking guy who happened to be good at math and lying by omission.
The king was saying something to Lord Casimir now, gesturing at the camp. It looked like formal greetings were going to take a while. Probably followed by a strategic briefing that Leon would need to attend, which meant more hours of nodding sagely while people discussed things he was still learning about.
Leon glanced at the king one more time- the man was shifting his weight from foot to foot in a way that suggested discomfort. The horse ride had probably left him chafing.
Good, Leon thought with petty satisfaction. Fair payment for having such a beautiful guard.
He turned and headed back to his tent. There was no speech forthcoming, no immediate need for his presence, and he had work to do. The synchronization formation needed more testing. If he could reduce the activation time by another second, it might make the difference between life and death when the gate opened.
Leon ducked into his tent, leaving the pageantry behind, and returned to his diagrams with a small smile on his face.
The woman was beautiful, yes. Legendary, certainly.
But legends didn't stop monsters.
Math did.
And Leon had equations to solve.