Seated in a carriage headed for the Imperial Palace, Lancer folded his arms, face grave as if pondering some crucial matter. In truth, he was just trying to make sense of how he'd run into Leone.
Initially, unable to pinpoint exactly where he stood on this world's timeline, he'd tried looking for the so-called "main characters," but had come up empty-handed.
Bulat hadn't enlisted yet—at least before Lancer left the Western Fortress. Najenda seemed to still be serving in some local governor's military forces. The only one he'd managed any concrete leads on, Chelsea, apparently wasn't even a civil official yet. Sheele was somewhere in the Capital, but he'd never figured out exactly where. Leone had been a similar mystery. As for the rest of the main cast, they were probably still just a bunch of brats causing trouble in their villages…
He'd long given up actively searching for "protagonists." Yet somehow, fate tossed Leone right into his path, completely catching him off guard. It wasn't entirely his fault, though—back then Leone looked so androgynous, thin, and short-haired that any normal person would've had trouble discerning her gender. Even Lancer never imagined that this flat-chested, blond-haired teen might actually be Leone.
No matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't figure out why it happened. The simplest explanation was just that he looked wealthy, happened to wander into the slums, and had the combat strength necessary to catch her.
Besides that, he didn't give it much further thought. After all, he'd already accepted that this was a genuine, living world. Protagonists or not, everyone here was a person of flesh and blood—he'd even nearly killed Kaneki Ken once.
"My lord, we've arrived."
The driver's voice snapped Lancer from his reverie.
"Thank you."
After thanking the man, Lancer adjusted his uniform and strode toward the palace. No one stopped him along the way—he was Imperial Guard, after all—but nobody greeted him either. It wasn't just the solemn atmosphere of the occasion; though officially Imperial Guard, he'd been stationed with the Border Army all this time, and combined with certain intimidating rumors surrounding him, it'd be stranger if anyone tried to approach.
Even so, Lancer walked with his head high. He'd anticipated this kind of isolation when he made his choice. Sure, it was lonely, but it would only last two years. If his plan succeeded, it would all be worth it.
He was going to save countless lives. Even if no one ever knew, even if no one ever thanked him, he'd still be proud of his choice—because then he'd have no regrets.
Besides, he was already halfway through. Really… it wasn't so bad…
...
Having found Great General Budo, Lancer quietly followed behind him. His honors today were granted under Budo's command, so naturally, he'd follow the man's lead. Throughout, Budo's expression remained stiff and stoic, not bothering to introduce Lancer to any of the gathered officials.
But that was precisely in character for Budo. In the Great General's eyes, an imperial soldier had no business mingling with bureaucrats. All Lancer needed to do was perform his duty, just as he'd always done, and Budo would handle the rest.
Yet when Lancer followed Budo into the hall—
"What's the matter?" asked Budo, finally breaking his silence.
"That man feels pretty strong. But why's he standing among the civil officials?"
"Honest? He was recommended by the regional governors a while back… But that has nothing to do with us."
Watching Budo's disinterested expression, Lancer inwardly sighed. According to what he remembered of the "plot," if Budo had been willing to step in earlier, none of those disasters would've happened. But Budo was too stubborn, too proud—clinging to an outdated honor, believing firmly that the Empire would remain safe so long as he was around. The results of that pride were all too clear.
Sure, his death might have been partly due to plot convenience, but even without that, Budo would've inevitably fallen under a wave of angry victims sooner or later. After all, those who'd suffered under Honest's rule wouldn't care about his reasons for inaction. To their rage-filled eyes, standing aside was as good as helping the enemy. No matter how powerful his Teigu was, a man was still just a man—eventually, even the strongest could be worn down and killed by sheer numbers, especially by those who no longer cared if they lived or died.
The hall's serious atmosphere made casual conversation impossible. With a long wait still ahead before the Emperor's arrival, Lancer idly glanced around, hoping to spot a familiar face. Unfortunately, aside from vaguely recognizing the current Prime Minister whose face he barely remembered, he recognized absolutely no one else.
...
The "award ceremony" itself consisted mainly of an official droning names from a document. Those named stepped forward to receive the assembled crowd's obligatory applause. It felt disturbingly similar to when his teachers would read out test scores back in school, except back then he'd mostly ended up scolded for poor performance.
This time, the ceremony was held to honor outstanding military members over the past year, from Border Forces to Local Armies and, of course, the Imperial Guard. Lancer—as an Imperial Guard officer and Budo's subordinate—was scheduled near the end as one of the highlights. But something unexpected caught him by surprise: the name of another "plot" character was suddenly called—
"Najenda."
To be honest, when he first heard her name, he was stunned. Just as he hadn't expected Leone to be a scrawny tomboy, he'd never imagined that the future one-eyed, metal-armed, chain-smoking boss-lady would currently be a serious-faced young officer with a striking figure. Nor did he expect they'd be receiving honors side by side.
Strangely, Najenda was receiving her commendation for "suppressing rebellion" and "eliminating bandits."
Lancer nearly laughed out loud when he heard it. Maliciously, he wondered if the so-called "rebels" and "bandits" Najenda crushed might've included people who'd eventually become part of the Revolutionary Army.
Probably not—after all, his existence hadn't altered hers yet—but he still couldn't help that dark, gleeful suspicion.
If before he'd merely disliked the Revolutionary Army, then after spending nearly a year learning firsthand about the suffering of foreign tribes, he now harbored outright disgust.
And it had nothing to do with his current position—he just genuinely despised traitors who sold out their own nation.
Meanwhile, Najenda, standing a few steps away, felt the eyes behind her brimming with malice. When she turned and saw Lancer, she froze briefly. She'd never seen him before. Could he be yet another macho jerk with something against women in the army?
She sneered silently to herself, then turned away, chin proudly raised. She had no interest in dealing with his type. Ever since joining the army, she'd encountered plenty of men like him—idiots who lacked real ability but never missed a chance to throw around remarks about her gender.
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T/N: umm najenda you should be careful... he's called the bloodstained executioner :sob: