Staring at the object laid out before him, Blake twitched the corners of his mouth with difficulty.
"Lady Ophelia, what is this?"
"A self-criticism," Ophelia replied, standing before him with none of her usual confidence, her gaze fixed firmly on the floor at her feet.
"Due to my recklessness and underestimation of the enemy, I have caused losses to you, my lord. As your adjutant, I cannot shirk this responsibility. This was my mistake… and thus I must take accountability."
Listening to her words, Blake lifted his head and looked at the girl before him with a helpless expression. He had already heard Judy's report on the events of last night. Of course, he had known all along that the former princess would not simply accept defeat—he had thought she might want to vent her frustrations somehow, but he had never imagined her chosen method would be this… *self-punishing*. This self-criticism was so thick… it must have been nearly two hundred pages long. Was she writing a novel?
"I've already heard Judy's account of what happened last night," Blake said, quickly steering the conversation away from the mountain of paper. There was no way he was going to spend his time cooped up indoors reading two hundred pages of self-reproach, no matter how impressed he was that Ophelia had managed to write it all in a single night. That kind of self-torture was not for him.
"This was not your fault. Battlefields are ever-changing—no one, not even the gods, can predict every possible outcome at every moment and every place. If you continue blaming yourself for this, you are essentially looking down on us. After all, neither I, nor Charlotte, nor Judy, nor even Messiah and Semia can claim to see the entire picture clearly at all times."
"But… I lost some of my men," Ophelia persisted, her voice soft but stubborn.
"War inevitably brings casualties. There is nothing unusual about it," Blake waved a hand dismissively, clearly disagreeing with her sentiment.
"Besides, if I'm not mistaken, those mercenaries don't blame you, do they?"
Ophelia fell silent. In truth, Blake was right. After the skirmish, she had immediately gathered all the surviving orc mercenaries and apologized to them for her miscalculations. But the mercenaries had not harbored the slightest hint of resentment toward her—in fact, their captain had even patted her on the shoulder to comfort her. Ophelia had been utterly baffled by this. Those who had fallen were their brothers-in-arms, comrades who had fought side by side with them. How could they be so… *resigned* about it?
"Nevertheless, this should serve as a very profound lesson for you," Blake said, seeing that Ophelia was still struggling to let go of her guilt. He decided to change his approach, abandoning further consolation. It was clear that the young lady drove herself relentlessly—the more others tried to comfort her, the more uneasy she became. It was hardly surprising, considering her former status and reputation. Ophelia had likely ingrained an unspoken rule into her very being: *failure is not an option*. After all, for a princess beloved by her people, even a single mistake could lead to catastrophic consequences.
Still, warfare was not politics. If everyone wallowed in regret over every single misstep like Ophelia did, Blake would have committed suicide long ago.
"Now, you should have a clear understanding of the gap between yourself and a Gifted Knight… This is the chasm of absolute power. No matter how clever your stratagems or how intricate your schemes, without the means to counter such overwhelming strength, all your calculations are nothing but futile efforts."
Blake paused, then smiled faintly.
"It's like a woman who is sharp-tongued and quick-witted, able to wrap any man around her little finger. But if she lacks physical strength, once that man loses his temper, he can still slap her hard across the face. At that moment, no amount of clever words will save her."
"Are you mocking me, Lord Blake?"
At this, Ophelia let out a startled laugh, then looked up at Blake, feigning annoyance.
"I'm merely stating a fact," Blake replied with exaggerated innocence, throwing up his hands and shrugging his shoulders.
"As for what to do next, you should have a good idea… So, would you care to share your thoughts with me?"
"Well…" Ophelia furrowed her brows, thinking carefully for a moment.
"Perhaps I really should stop patrolling, as you suggested… Or… my lord, what if we assign Lady Messiah and Lady Semia to take charge of day and night patrols separately, while Lady Judy stays with me? I think that way—"
"Don't bother," Blake shook his head, cutting her off before she could finish.
"Messiah and Semia cannot be separated."
"Why not, Lord Blake?" Ophelia asked, clearly surprised and confused. She looked at him curiously, unable to understand why he had rejected her suggestion so firmly this time. After all, in her eyes, with so many powerful individuals on their side, they should be able to achieve far greater efficiency. Yet whenever Blake issued orders, he always kept the twin sisters together. It was rather puzzling.
"I have my reasons," Blake said, unexpectedly offering no further explanation. He simply uttered this one sentence and fell silent, leaving Ophelia with no answer. Seeing how serious he was, Ophelia was taken aback, but quickly changed the subject. After all, the bond between the twins and Blake was clearly a close one, and she had no idea what sort of history they shared. Over the course of their time together, Ophelia had pieced together a rough understanding of Charlotte and Judy's backgrounds—they had once been victims of a certain bishop of the Divine Light Church, cursed to wander endlessly after death, unable to find peace. Blake's arrival had freed them from that shackle, allowing them to exist freely once more. But when it came to the twins, Ophelia knew nothing at all. The only thing she had ever heard from Charlotte was that they had been by Blake's side for a very long time—even longer than Charlotte herself. As for the true nature of the twins, Charlotte and Judy had admitted frankly that they did not know, nor did they particularly care. After all, they had been dead for so many years; unless something related to their own unresolved obsessions was involved, these wandering spirits had little curiosity about the private affairs of others.
"What about the fortress, then?"
"I've already sent my report. I simply stated that the Sith Empire sent another probing force, which Judy drove back. That's all there is to it."
"…Do you think General Celt will believe that?"
"I don't know if he believes it. All I know is that I do."
As Ophelia was left utterly speechless by Blake's words, a very different conversation was unfolding elsewhere.
"…Kaelan is injured?" Lindilot's face registered clear shock.
"How did this happen? Have you already opened hostilities against Wester?"
"Of course not, Sister," Hedwig replied, standing before the magical projection, her attire as eccentric as ever. Unlike usual, however, there was a hint of youthful lightness in her tone this time.
"That fool decided to test the enemy's strength on his own, got outmatched, and had to flee. It was purely a mistake in judgment—he brought it entirely upon himself."
"You didn't tell him about *that* matter, did you?" Lindilot asked, a faint smile playing on her lips as she shook her head. She made no attempt to correct Hedwig's dismissive tone. After all, neither she nor Hedwig had ever held Kaelan in high regard. While they were surprised and perhaps a little sorry to hear of his injury, it was not as if they were truly distressed by it.
"Naturally not, Sister," Hedwig replied with the same firmness as before.
"As you said, this is top-secret information. Until we can confirm the enemy's true intentions, we cannot afford to leak it recklessly. That man has a big mouth—who knows what would happen if word got out? Besides, do you really think he's the kind of person who would listen and understand?"
Of course not.
The Silver Princess knew this perfectly well. Even if they had told Kaelan the truth, he would never have believed it—he would have insisted on testing the waters for himself regardless. In any case… the damage was done, and there was no point in dwelling on the past.
"How serious are his injuries?"
"He's not going to die, at any rate," Hedwig said, raising an eyebrow indifferently. She truly could not have cared less about Kaelan's fate. After all, even among Gifted Knights, there was a clear hierarchy. There were those who wielded law-based auras, and those who wielded element-based auras. By classification alone, law-based Gifted Knights were far superior to their element-based counterparts. Among the Sith Empire's four Gifted Knights, Kaelan was the only one with an element-based aura. This fact only served to deepen Hedwig's disdain for him. Though they were nominally equals, in Hedwig's eyes, Kaelan's status was no different from that of an ordinary soldier—and thus utterly unworthy of her concern.
"Hedwig?"
"…Fine, he'll be fit for duty soon enough. But…"
At this, a smile finally tugged at the corners of the girl's lips—the first one to grace her face since the conversation began.
"That pretty face of his that he's so proud of? He'll never be able to show it off again."
In the end, though Kaelan had managed to retreat, he had not escaped unscathed. His mastery of soul power was worlds apart from Judy's. At the final moment, the tiny spark of flame that Judy had condensed pierced his whirlwind, scattering in all directions under the gale's ferocious force. The power of a Gifted Knight was already formidable enough, and as a soul-bound entity, Judy's ability to condense power was far superior in quality to that of a mere mortal body. Thus, even though Kaelan had barely managed to fend off most of the flames, one stray lick of fire had grazed his cheek, leaving a horrific, gaping wound on the right side of his face—flesh torn open, blood and raw tissue exposed for all to see. Though he had received immediate treatment upon returning to his camp, the scar would never fade.
"That's a relief," Lindilot said, letting out a breath she had not realized she was holding. Though she had no fondness for Kaelan, she was still the Sith Empire's princess—and one of its four Gifted Knights. Regardless of her personal feelings toward him, as a princess, she would never openly display such sentiments. After all, for better or worse, Kaelan was a hero of the empire, and she owed him at least a modicum of courtesy. Of course, if Kaelan's injuries had been severe enough to impair his combat effectiveness, Lindilot would have been genuinely concerned. But hearing that he had merely been disfigured, she lost interest in the matter.
"These next few days, you must focus on stabilizing the troops' morale. I've heard that Kaelan's little escapade resulted in some losses for his unit. That could prove troublesome. And…" Lindilot paused for a moment, her expression growing serious.
"What do you make of this whole affair?"
"The enemy is strong," Hedwig replied instantly, her fleeting smile vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.
"While my strength surpasses Kaelan's, that is simply because our auras belong to different classifications. According to Kaelan's account, his opponent was also an element-based Gifted Knight. Wind and fire should be evenly matched—in the worst-case scenario, he should have been able to retreat unharmed. The fact that he was outmatched and injured means that the enemy's combat skills are far superior to his own. Otherwise, such an outcome would have been impossible."
"…It must be one of the individuals you encountered back then, I suppose," Lindilot mused.
"If my judgment is correct, it was that red-haired female knight," Hedwig said, falling silent for a rare moment.
"There's also that strange pair of sisters. They look younger than me, yet they wield law-based auras just like I do. I have no idea what their deal is."
"…If Kaelan was no match for them, and you are left to face them alone, then the situation at the frontline fortress could become truly precarious," Lindilot said, her expression growing increasingly grave.
"Hedwig, are you certain you don't want to wait a little longer? I should be able to conclude the negotiations here in at most half a month. Once that's done, I can lead my legion to join you. I believe that with the three of us working together, we should be able to turn the tide."
Hedwig fell silent.
Lindilot had proposed the same idea before, and Hedwig had rejected it outright. But now, as the Silver Princess brought it up again, Hedwig did not immediately dismiss it. Though she had a fiery temper, she was not foolish—she understood the gravity of the situation perfectly well. After all, unlike Kaelan, who was little more than a shock trooper, Hedwig was responsible for overseeing the entire campaign. She might kill someone on a whim over a single careless word in peacetime, but on the battlefield, she was calm, collected, and utterly rational.
The current situation was clear: Kaelan was no match for their opponents. This placed an enormous amount of pressure on Hedwig. Four individuals had appeared before her that day—three of whom had wielded innate auras. Whether that man possessed the power or not, the fact remained that he commanded at least three Gifted Knights under his banner. Now that Kaelan had been defeated by one of them, the scales had been tipped. While Gifted Knights posed their greatest threat on the battlefield as commanders rather than in one-on-one duels, the mere existence of enemy Gifted Knights was enough to even the odds that had once been so heavily stacked in the Sith Empire's favor. What was more, law-based auras were far more troublesome than element-based ones. If Hedwig insisted on fighting alone, her chances of victory were slim at best.
"…Sister, there's no need to trouble yourself," Hedwig said finally, her voice ringing with her usual pride.
"I knew you'd say that," Lindilot replied with a faint smile and a shake of her head.
"Very well, then. I'll see what I can do. According to our intelligence, the King of Wester seems to harbor some reservations about this reinforcement force. Perhaps I can apply some pressure on him from that angle. It might be enough to hamper their movements."
"Is that old fool really that stupid?" Hedwig asked, clearly skeptical.
"I'll do my best… Still, a man who would betray his allies to save his own skin? With the right price, I'm sure we can find a way to sway him. Of course, we can't afford to rely solely on this tactic…"
Lindilot trailed off, then smiled faintly.
"So, I'm sending you some reinforcements. I trust you won't refuse this offer?"
"Reinforcements?" Hedwig asked, her curiosity piqued.
"What kind of reinforcements are you talking about, Sister?"
"I've reached an agreement with the barbarian tribes in this region regarding our current predicament. The details are still being finalized, but as a gesture of mutual trust, they will be sending us a powerful army…"
Lindilot paused for a moment, then a knowing smile spread across her face.
"It's a beast corps. I believe that under your command, they will be able to unleash their full potential."
"A beast corps?"
At these words, Hedwig finally showed a glimmer of genuine interest.
Every nation on the continent had its own unique civilization and path of development—and the barbarian tribes were no exception. While their way of life might have seemed disorganized compared to the structured kingdoms of the civilized world, they possessed powers that others could only dream of. Among these, their beast corps were among the most fearsome. The barbarians had mastered methods and techniques beyond the imagination of others, allowing them to tame the most terrifying magical beasts and wield them as weapons of war. The might of such a beast corps far surpassed that of any ordinary cavalry unit!
"According to our agreement, the Makt tribe will dispatch five thousand beast warriors—all seasoned veterans, riding subterranean giant lizards… I'm sure you know what those are."
"Yes, Sister," Hedwig replied, her expression finally turning completely serious.
"I will put this army to good use. I give you my word—I will not fail."
"Good. I look forward to your victory. Now, I suppose I should go pay Kaelan a visit. After all, he was injured in the line of duty…"
"No need, Sister," Hedwig cut her off immediately.
"You are a woman of great status—there is no need for you to trouble yourself with such trivial matters. It's getting late, and you must be exhausted. Please go rest. I will visit that fool in your stead."
"But…"
"Sister, please. Leave this to me!"
"Very well," Lindilot said, reluctantly nodding her head in the face of Hedwig's insistence.
"I'll write him a letter. Please deliver it to him, and convey to him this message: the empire will never forget the sacrifices he has made. We will do everything in our power to support him."
"…Yes, Sister," Hedwig replied, her expression darkening slightly for a moment before she nodded obediently.