Chapter 20

Beneath her short brown hair, her emerald eyes, heavy with fatigue, looked at him.

Andert, as always, flashed a playful smile, patted Raphaelo's shoulder, and asked after his well-being.

"Are you still alive, Raphaelo? The effects of *Zaejaecho* are quite remarkable. I thought a corpse was crawling over here."

Raphaelo couldn't muster a smile when he faced Andert. No, to be precise, he didn't feel like smiling.

Because he saw traces of deep thought in Andert's eyes, which were dark with concern.

"Just in case, I'll say this."

"What?"

"Don't have any delusions. I won't allow your unilateral actions. I am your superior. You must stay by my side until this war ends."

Andert looked at him with slightly surprised eyes. But for some reason, the expected affirmative answer didn't come.

His heart was racing, even though he hadn't drunk any strong liquor. Raphaelo gripped Andert's hand on his shoulder as if to crush it, demanding an answer.

"Answer me, Andert."

"…What's so difficult? Remember, don't worry about unnecessary things and focus on your recovery."

Andert stepped aside and flashed a cool smile.

"Because you're the only one who can command this army."

The feeling was as if a heavy rock had been lifted from his heart when he saw Andert's unfeigned smile.

Andert doesn't lie. Knowing this, a sense of relief washed over him even with such a simple statement.

Then, the space and time in his dream twisted once. Before he knew it, he was lying on the bed, panting.

"Phew."

His deadened hearing gradually recovered.

In five days, he would be able to return to the battlefield. It was a moment when he was struggling on the brink of death, tormented by a fever that rose like leeches.

Beyond the tent, a voice finally pierced Raphaelo's heart.

Andert declared.

"I'll go."

"It's not permissible, Sir Andert. The Supreme Commander will never allow you to move."

"But no one else is suitable. I'm the only one who can deal with the gargoyles, climb the cliff, infiltrate Mephisto's castle, and create chaos. I'm the only one who can take advantage of the chaos to target Mephisto. Do you agree?"

"…But, the permission."

"Permission is unnecessary. I'll handle this myself. Tell him it was my unilateral decision."

A desolate land. Uncooled corpses. Soldiers waiting for their death.

Andert, who had silently observed the world around him, was about to take a solitary step.

To the final destination and his grave, the Great Mage Mephisto.

No, that can't be.

Raphaelo, convulsing, fell off the bed and crawled on the ground. The officers who rushed out grabbed his body desperately.

"Damn it, can't you let go of my hand? Wait! Stop right now, Andert! You can't die! I won't let you die like this!"

Andert didn't look back at Raphaelo.

Ah, his figure was gradually fading away.

Andert's legs leaped into the black flames. Once he jumped in, there was no return from the hellish flames.

Knowing this better than anyone, Raphaelo was in despair.

"Come back right now, Andert Pagger!"

Suddenly, the world went dark.

He didn't know how much time had passed. From the darkness, Andert's comfort reached him. The voice of his dear friend, whom he missed desperately.

"It's not your fault, Raphaelo."

No way.

It can't be anyone else's fault, Andert. I killed you. I, this cripple, drove you to that fate.

Yet, you are still my sword. You must live by my side and die by my side.

You, who must, cannot be dead.

"…Ha."

Come back soon. Peace gained by losing you is meaningless. Right? Don't you think so too?

...

Answer me, Andert.

"…Your Highness."

Answer me, Andert Pagger.

"…Duke Your Highness!"

Andert Pagger!

"Duke Your Highness!"

The moment the clear call reached his ears, his eyes snapped open.

His mind, which had sunk into the depths of the sea, rose rapidly. As his blocked airways opened up, Raphaelo's world returned to reality.

It was all a dream.

"Your Highness, an urgent report has arrived."

"…What time is it?"

"It's 4 a.m."

Raphaelo, covering his eyes with the back of his hand, exhaled deeply.

It was difficult to steady his breathing due to his rapidly beating heart.

The nightmare he had was so realistic that it felt as if he had just wandered through the battlefield.

'I'm so tired.'

The voice of the dead echoed in his ears.

"It's not your fault, Raphaelo."

Did he want forgiveness from him? Was the deep-seated desire within him materialized through the medium of a dream?

'No.'

There was a time when he felt that way, but not now.

Andert Pagger is dead.

He made a noble sacrifice in the final battle against the Great Mage Mephisto, and that sacrifice left a deep scar on Raphaelo that he couldn't shake off for a long time.

It was even more painful because they couldn't find Andert's body.

Four years.

For the past four years, he had frantically searched the Isle of Quin.

Even though he said he would die by his side, the fact that he disappeared without a trace was very frustrating.

When he closed his eyes, he saw hallucinations of Andert, and when he opened them, he heard hallucinations of Andert.

Losing a loved one couldn't have been as tormenting as this.

But now he knows.

The days when he felt betrayed, resentful, and guilty towards Andert are all part of the past that won't return.

For his own sake, he must trample on Andert's ghost and stand up properly.

Raphaelo no longer wanted to be bound by Andert.

Therefore, he was slowly but surely sending Andert Pagger out of his mind, burying him in the past.

"Three reports have arrived, including one from the capital."

Raphaelo rubbed his gritty eyes with the back of his hand and replied.

"I'm sorry, but can you check them for me?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

Deshero opened the first letter and quickly scanned its contents.

"It's a letter from the capital, Lagal, stating that the Emperor and five nobles held a secret meeting. All attendees are members of the Noble Council, and their common characteristic is…"

"Supporters of the northern conquest, right?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

In the northern part of the Pen Rota Empire lies the North Deuss Mountain Range, one of the most rugged in the continent.

The North Deuss Mountain Range is rich in refined stone mines, and the Emperor was preparing a conquest war to seize these mines, with Raphaelo, the Duke, as the vanguard.

"Why is His Majesty so anxious to send me to the front?"

It was a rhetorical question, but the answer was clear.

The Emperor's faction wanted to drive him out of the capital, as far and for as long as possible. They believed this would help them regain the Emperor's lost authority.

Then, what should he do? He must respond appropriately.

He must attend the Noble Council, no matter how difficult, and show his face to those five nobles.

"Can I read the next letter, Your Highness?"

Raphaelo nodded, and Deshero opened the second letter.

"A new survivor was found on the Isle of Quin a month and a half ago. His name is Berti Rushan. He is 34 years old, about 170 cm tall, thin, with fair skin and long brown hair that covers his back…"

Raphaelo's brow gradually furrowed.

"A month and a half ago? The report is too late."

"It seems to have coincided with Your Highness's overseas schedule. The messenger had to chase for a long time."

Deshero soon opened the third letter. His expression, as he read it, hardened.

"…No, it wasn't. The messenger was attacked en route. Two messengers have gone missing, and this letter was delivered by the third messenger."

Raphaelo, lowering his hand, slowly opened his eyes. A faint glint appeared in his dark red eyes.

An attack.

It wasn't uncommon for Raphaelo, who had many enemies. But, two consecutive attacks? His bloodshot eyes turned to the letter in Deshero's hand.

"Was the letter the target? How important could it be? Keep reading."

"Yes, …The new survivor is currently settled in Midwinter. He works as a maid. Should I secretly send someone to investigate?"

Contrary to expectations, there was no special information.

"No, leave it. I'll slowly withdraw from matters related to the Isle of Quin. Holding on won't help anymore."

Deshero, hesitating uncharacteristically, cautiously spoke.

"But, Your Highness, the survivor from the Isle of Quin. He has brown hair and emerald green eyes. It might be just a coincidence, but his appearance…"

"Reminds you of Andert Pagger's brother?"

Brown hair. Emerald green eyes that evoke the freshness of spring.

Yes, these are all the colors of Andert Pagger. They are the most familiar colors to Raphaelo, more than anyone else in the world.

Andert was his only sword, family, and friend.

"I remember. He had an older sister, but she passed away during the Isle of Quin incident. He buried her body himself."

The Isle of Quin incident.

The Isle of Quin incident refers to the horrific terrorist attack by the Great Mage Mephisto, which turned the Isle of Quin into a hellish inferno.

Most of the island's residents were killed instantly, and the few survivors had to abandon their homeland and move to the mainland.

The shocking Isle of Quin incident triggered the Great War, which was the Magic War.

"His parents had already passed away long before, and his cousins, whom he only heard about, were not from the island. His family is not alive."

The Isle of Quin is a small island at the southernmost tip of the empire.

Small islands generally form isolated societies with little interaction with the mainland, making bloodlines even closer.

Therefore, it wasn't surprising that a newly discovered survivor had the same hair color and eye color as Andert. Many of the Isle of Quin refugees had similar appearances.

"Besides, it's already confirmed, right? Berti Rushan… It can't be the same person."

"Yes, I think I was overthinking it."

"Understand the desire to grasp at straws. But… you don't need to report on this matter to me anymore. Handle it appropriately on your end."

"…Understood."

After Deshero left the bedroom, Raphaelo lay down on the bed, closing his eyes again.

Wishing not to have a nightmare this time.

* * *

At the same time, in Midwinter.

At the Weatherwood Manor, lively screams were breaking out as usual.