From beneath the short brown hair, tired light green eyes looked at him. Andert, who smiled playfully as always, patted Raphael on the shoulder and greeted him.
"Are you sure you're alive, Raphael? The effect of 'Charity' is surely great. I almost thought a body was crawling."
Raphael had no energy to laugh at Andert's joke. No, it was more like he didn't dare to laugh. Because he had found traces of agony in Andert's dark, sunken eyes. "I'll tell you this just in case."
"What?"
"Don't think about dying in vain. I don't allow your dogmatism. I'm your superior. You have to support me until this war is over."
Andert looked at him with a slightly surprised expression. However, for some reason, the positive statement he was waiting for did not arrive. He hadn't drunk any alcohol, but his heart was beating fast. Raphael grabbed Andert's hand on his shoulder, with strength to break it. "Answer me, Andert."
"What's so hard about something like that? I'll keep it in mind, so don't worry about unnecessary things and just focus on recovering." Andert, who stepped back to one side, smiled coldly. "Because you're the only one who can command this army."
When faced with that unpretentious smile, Raphael felt like a stone weighing on his heart vanished. Andert wasn't lying. Knowing that, a sense of relief washed over him despite the obviousness of the statement.
Then, the mid-space-time distorted again. Before he knew it, he was again lying in bed, gasping for air. "What?" His low hearing gradually recovered. He could go to the battlefield in the next five days. It was when he wandered through the arena in the heat, his feet clutching the solid ground like a leech. From beyond the barracks, a voice pierced Raphael's heart.
"I'll go," Andert declared.
"No, Sir Andert. The commander-in-chief will never allow you to move."
"But no matter how much I think about it, I'm the only one fit for the job. I am the only one who can deal with Gargoyle and climb the cliff, enter Mephisto's castle and confuse his main ranks; take advantage of the confusion to aim for Mephisto's neck. Doesn't that mean everything?"
"But... permission..."
"I don't need permission. I'm going to take the initiative for this myself. Tell him it was my dogmatism that acted wrong."
A sand wasteland. Soldiers waiting for their death. Andert, who silently looked at the world around him, was finally going to move alone. Toward the Great Mage Mephisto, who would become his final destination and grave. That wouldn't do.
Raphael, who was shaking convulsively, fell off the bed and crawled along the floor. The commanders rushed to capture him urgently. "Don't you want to take these hands off me?! Wait! Stop right now, Andert! You can't die! I won't let you die like this!"
Andert didn't look at Raphael. Alas, his spirit gradually faded. Andert's feet launched toward the black flames. Once you've entered that hell, you won't be able to come back. Knowing that more than anyone else, Raphael was desperate. "Come back here right now, Andert Fager!"
At some point, the world turned dark. I didn't know how long had passed. From beyond the darkness came Andert's words of comfort. It was the nostalgic voice of his best friend. "It's not your fault, Raphael."
That couldn't be true. It's definitely my fault, Andert. I killed you. I was sick and an idiot, and I drove you to death. And yet you're still my sword. Whether you live or die, you must do it by my side. If necessary, you can't be dead.
"...Ha,"
Hurry up and come back. There's no point in achieving peace by losing you; you think so too, don't you? You do, right? Answer me, Andert.
"...your Highness."
Answer me, Andert Fager.
"Your Highness!"
Andert Fager!
"Your Highness!"
The moment a clear call reached his ears, his eyes flew wide open. His spirit, which had been sunk in the depths of the dark sea, rose at a very fast pace. As his obstructed breathing space opened up, Raphael's world also changed and returned to reality.
Everything was a dream. "Your Highness, an urgent message has arrived."
"What... time is it?"
"It's four in the morning."
Raphael, who covered his eyes with the back of his hand, exhaled deeply. It wasn't easy to catch his breath due to his fast heartbeat. His nightmare felt so real that it seemed as if he were really wandering the battlefield until the last minute. "I'm tired." The voice of the dead still echoed in his ears. "It's not your fault, Raphael."
Did he want to be forgiven by him? Was that how his deep subconscious desire was embodied through a dream? "No." There was a time when he was, but at least not now.
Andert Fager was dead. He made a great sacrifice in the confrontation with the Great Mage Mephisto, which left Raphael with a long and irrepressible wound. It was even more painful because Andert's body was never found. Four years. He had been searching frantically on Queen Island for the last four years to find the body. He told him to die by his side, so he felt a bitter grudge toward him, who disappeared without a trace.
When he closed his eyes, he saw Andert in a hallucination, and when he opened his eyes, he heard his voice. Even if a partner of his had died, it wouldn't have been so painful. But now he knew. That the days of feeling resentment for the sin Andert had committed, feeling betrayed, were a story that had long since passed and would never return. For his own sake, he must crush Andert's image in his head and stand up properly. Raphael no longer wanted to be tied down by Andert. Slowly but surely, he was pulling him out of his head. He would try to bury Andert Fager's existence as a moment from the past.
"A total of three notes have arrived, including an urgent report from the capital."
"I'm sorry, but please check them for me," Raphael replied, rubbing his stiff eyes with the back of his hand.
"Of course."
Deshero quickly checked the first correspondence. "It's a letter saying that the emperor and five noble houses held a secret meeting in the capital, Ragel. All the people present were members of the aristocracy, and the common feature among all of them was..."
"They must be supporters of the war for the northern conquest."
"That's right."
In the northern part of the Penrotta Empire were the Northern Deus Mountains, famous for their rugged paths throughout the continent. The Northern Deus Mountains are filled with magic stone mines, and the emperor was preparing for a war of conquest to get his hands on them. Of course, with none other than Archduke Raphael as the vanguard.
"Why doesn't His Majesty push me to the front and end this once and for all?" he wondered, but the answer was clear. The imperialists wanted to push him out of the capital. As far as possible and for a long time. Believing that this would restore the emperor's lost power. So what should he do? Now they would have to respond accordingly. He had no choice but to attend the noble council even if it was too much for him; and exhibit himself before the five aristocrats in question.
"Can I read you the next letter?"
When he nodded, Deshero opened a second letter. "A month and a half ago, a new survivor was found on Queen Island. Her name is Bertie Lucian. 34 years old, 170 cm tall, slim, white skin, long brown hair reaching down her back..." Raphael's forehead wrinkled gradually.
"A month and 15 days ago? This report is too late."
"It seems to have overlapped with Your Highness's overseas schedule. It seems the messenger followed him for a long time to give him the news."
Deshero soon opened a third correspondence. Unlike before, his expression became stiff as he read the contents. "...Oh, no. That wasn't all... It is said the messenger was attacked in the middle of delivering this. Two people disappeared one after another during the process, and the third messenger is the only one who managed to deliver this letter."
Raphael, who had his hand crossed over his eyes, opened them slowly. There was a strange singularity in his dark red eyes. An attack. It wasn't an unusual occurrence for Raphael, who had many enemies. But twice in a row? Red, blood-stained eyes fell on the letter Deshero was holding. "Were they aiming for that letter? How important is the content then? Keep reading."
"Yes. Now it is said that the new survivor has settled in Midwinterre. She works as a maid. Should I put someone on her in secret?"
Contrary to his expectations, it wasn't any special information. "No, leave her alone. Slowly quit the job on Queen Island. It doesn't make sense to hold onto it anymore."
Deshero, who unlike him had hesitated, carefully took off his lips. "But, your highness, this survivor from Queen Island. She has brown hair and light green eyes. This could just be my enthusiasm or my emotions talking, but in many ways..."
"Reminds you of Andert Fager's sister?" Brown hair. Light green eyes that reminded you of the freshness of spring. Yes, all those were colors that belonged to Andert Fager. They were also the most familiar colors to Raphael than to anyone else. Andert was his only sword, his family and his friend.
"I remember. He told us he had a sister by his side, didn't he? But she closed her eyes for eternity during the Queen Island crisis. He told me he even buried the body himself."
The Queen Island crisis. The Queen Island incident referred to the terrible terror that the Great Mage Mephisto unleashed on the island and how he turned it into the abysses of hellfire. The incident instantly killed most of the island's residents and forced a small number of survivors to abandon their homes and return to land. The devastating Queen Island crisis triggered the outbreak of the Great War. That was how the Magic War began.
"His parents passed away long before that, and he said his cousins, of whom he'd only heard words, didn't live on the island. His family is not alive." Queen Island was the southernmost island of the Empire. Small islands generally form isolated societies, and they had less interaction with the land, so the blood that mixes between them is close. Therefore, it was not surprising that the new survivor had the same hair and eye color as Andert. Because many of the other Queen Island refugees also looked that way. "And didn't you say she was already identified? Bertie Lucian... then she can't be that person."
"Yes, I think I overestimated this."
"I understand you want to grasp at straws. But... you don't have to report this to me from now on. Cut it moderately your own way."
"...I see."
After Deshero left the bedroom, Raphael lay on the bed and closed his eyes again. He hoped not to have nightmares this time.
At the same time, in Midwinterre.
A lively cry escaped again from the Weatherwoods mansion today.