I Became a Ruined Character in a Dark Fantasy-Chapter 668

"Must have been news worth that reaction." Ian, murmuring with curled lips, picked up his cup again.

While he slowly drank, Lucas nodded. "It seemed so. However, to my question, His Grace only said that he’d been able to confirm that the Agent of the Saint’s words were true. But..."

He handed the parchment to Ian, who was setting down his cup.

"No matter how I thought about it, it didn’t seem like that was all. So, I hurried here."

"Well, the answer must be in this letter." Nodding, Ian took the parchment.

His gaze swept over the Archduke's seal stamped in wax.

"Yes, I’m sure it will," answered Lucas.

Ian broke the seal. He spread the parchment open and began reading carefully. It wasn’t long before the corner of his mouth lifted.

"I see. No wonder he looked relieved."

"Why is that?" Lucas asked cautiously, unable to hide his unease.

Mev, too, kept her eyes fixed on Ian even as she drank.

"The Emperor requested reinforcements to send to the Eastern Front," Ian replied evenly, never lifting his eyes from the letter. "If possible, he wants me—and the barbarian legion."

Lucas’s eyes widened. Mev was just as startled. Only Ian remained utterly calm, continuing to read as if nothing were amiss.

After staring at him blankly for a moment, Lucas finally let out a long sigh. "So that’s it. Now it makes sense...."

The perfect excuse had fallen into the Archduke’s lap, a way to send both Ian and the barbarian legion out of the North at once. No wonder his expression had looked as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

"It says that although it pains him to part with one of the pillars of the North at such a critical time, he cannot bring himself to refuse His Majesty’s request. He would appreciate it if I considered it an opportunity to raise the reputation of the Northern Barbarian Legion in the Central region as well."

"Lu Solar, have mercy...." Lucas covered his eyes and groaned.

"That’s all?" asked Mev. Her voice was noticeably colder.

Shifting his gaze to the corner of the parchment, Ian shook his head. "Of course not. It also says His Majesty will be very pleased if we stop by the Imperial Capital with the legion. And asked to protect the honor of the North."

Lucas exhaled a long sigh through his nose. Mev, her eyes narrowed, raised her cup in a grip tight enough to crush it.

Moments later, Ian rolled the parchment back up and set it on the table. "Wrote needlessly long."

Ian’s expression was as calm as his tone.

"You must find a justification to refuse," Lucas said at that moment. He dragged a hand down his face and took a steadying breath.

As Ian and Mev turned toward him with cups in hand, he added, "We can’t afford to lose the Agent of the Saint again so soon. Hope City would be put at risk as well."

"No, I’ll accept the Archduke’s request," said Ian.

Mev’s eyes twitched, and Lucas’s eyes widened again.

"Are you serious?"

"It’s an Imperial command."

"B-But the Agent of the Saint and the barbarian legion carry immense symbolic weight. You’ll be sent to the most dangerous fronts again and again until the civil war ends!"

Lucas’s voice tightened without him meaning to. It was only natural. The trap was painfully obvious.

The Archduke might well be hoping that Ian would clash with the Black Prince and die in the process. Or that he would end up trapped within the Empire, unable to return.

Even if neither came to pass, the result would be the same. The barbarian legion would suffer severe losses over the course of the war.

"Perhaps. Which is exactly why we need to prepare thoroughly."

Yet Ian’s voice remained calm as he picked up his cup once more.

Bringing it to his lips, he added, "We can’t go out with sloppy armaments, nor with the elites exhausted and injured like now."

Only then did Lucas’s eyes flicker with realization. Something in Ian’s tone had finally struck him as odd.

As Mev’s gaze narrowed slightly, Ian wet his lips with wine and said,

"May I ask one more favor of you, Commander?"

"Please speak. Agent of the Saint."

"Could you deliver my reply to the Archduke?"

"I will, of course, but could you give me a hint about the content of the reply?"

He intended to look for a way out himself. Not simply because of his reverence for Ian, but because the North itself might yet be drawn into the coming war. At a time like this, losing the North’s Demigod and his legion to the Central was unthinkable.

"That's not difficult. In fact, it would be better if you understood it in detail as well." Nodding readily, Ian added, "Since considerable casualties occurred while subjugating the wastelands, I will write that we will march out after fully recovering and reorganizing."

Ian’s eyes, facing Lucas, shone meaningfully. "And in the meantime, the Archduke is to send the legion the weapons, food, and other supplies it will require."

Lucas stared at him blankly as Ian turned his gaze away.

"Two thousand—no, since this is a march under Imperial command, we can’t very well leave room to appear disloyal," murmured Ian, almost to himself.

He then glanced at Mev, whose expression was becoming strange, and added, "I’ll request supplies for at least four thousand troops. Of course, they must be the finest weapons the North has to offer. If the legion looks shabby when we have our audience with His Majesty, wouldn’t the Archduke’s loyalty come into question?"

Turning back to Lucas, Ian lifted his cup slightly. "The honor of the North would fall to the ground if that happens."

"Huh...." A sigh finally escaped Lucas’s lips.

Ian took a sip of wine and continued calmly, "Of course, since we’ve agreed to work together, I have no intention of standing by and letting such an unfortunate thing happen."

"What do you intend to do?" Lucas asked, barely moving his lips.

Ian smiled faintly. "What else? If the supplies don’t arrive, I’ll have to go get them myself."

"Of course, the legion must accompany you," Mev cut in.

Receiving Ian’s gaze, she added, "It’s more efficient that way."

Unlike her tone, a smile was also spreading on her lips.

Ian raised his cup slightly towards her. "As expected, your insight is exceptional. Will you be the vice commander?"

"If you’ll have me, gladly," Mev answered, raising her cup in return.

As the two drank, Lucas stared at them in a daze before finally letting out a hollow laugh. "You’re leaving the Archduke with quite a problem. No matter how I look at it, I doubt Travelga has that much supply left on hand."

Bringing supplies from the frontline fortress would take quite some time. At the same time, the Archduke’s decision would become widely known. Handing over the North’s demigod so readily would not pass without repercussions.

And arming the barbarian legion heavily with his own resources alone would already be enough to make his head ache.

"To repay him like this..."

"Repay him?" Ian, setting down his cup, said without blinking, "Just as His Grace did, I am merely handling matters according to reason."

"You are correct." Lucas nodded, still smiling, and finally picked up his own cup. "After hearing this, I’m almost glad I’m the messenger. I’m curious to see what expression His Grace will wear when he reads your reply."

"I am curious about that too. If we meet again, please let me know as well, Commander," said Mev, looking back at Lucas.

"I will do so gladly. Sir, gladly." Lucas answered at once and took a drink. Instead of worry, a strange anticipation was spreading in his eyes.

He could already picture it: the civil war breaking out before the supplies were even prepared. And the responsibility for that would, of course, fall squarely on the Archduke.

He could also clearly imagine Ian leading the barbarian legion toward Travelga. Save for a rare few, no one would dare stand in their way.

For the Archduke, it would be a terrible situation just to imagine. Perhaps from the moment he receives the reply, he might suffer from nightmares every night.

"Is there anything else you need to pass along?" asked Ian.

Lucas, who had paused mid-motion as he set his cup down, nodded a moment later. "Now that you mention it, there is one more thing."

Looking back at Ian, he added, "I met Trude in Travelga. I passed along news of your return, so before long, the Dragon Slayer’s Warriors will gather here."

"Those guys are still active?" Ian murmured, twitching one eye.

Seeing Mev tilt her head in confusion, Ian said, "They’re a northern mercenary band. Trude’s their leader. They even once insisted on serving under me. I thought they’d disbanded after their numbers fell. Guess not."

"Not as much as their prime, but they are still going strong. Since they are a name trusted by the defense forces, and there were many things requiring their help after the erosion."

Lucas met Ian’s eyes.

"They’re scattered, as far as I know, but if they all regroup, there should still be well over a hundred of them."

"Not sure they’d rush to help with something that doesn’t pay," Ian murmured, snorting low.

Lucas shook his head. "They will. They’ve been waiting for your return. In fact, they’ve been using part of their earnings to support Hope City."

"Those guys?" Ian asked a beat later, genuine surprise flashing across his face.

Lucas smiled. "They are comrades and brothers. Much like how the barbarians still treat me."

"Well, that is the Northern way. Looks like we’ll need to account for their supplies as well. Good information. Thank you." Ian finally let out a laugh, then raised his cup.

"Don’t mention it." Lucas lifted his cup in response.

Having emptied the remaining wine in the cup cleanly, he rose from his seat. "You must be exhausted, so I’ll take my leave. Please get some proper rest first, then write your reply. I’ll wait."

Ian, setting down the empty cup, looked at him. "Is it really all right for you to be away from the fortress this long?"

"Don’t worry. Discipline won’t collapse just because a scarecrow like me is gone." Lucas answered confidently.

Ian nodded.

"We’re planning to hold a banquet in a few days. I’ll hand you the letter then. You should attend as well, Commander."

"Yes, Agent of the Saint. It would be an honor. Then, rest comfortably." Unable to hide his smile, Lucas bowed in the Northern style.

"Take Caleb with you as well. He’s a capable man. He was a great help," said Ian.

"I’m glad to hear that," Lucas replied as he approached the door. He paused with his hand on it, then turned back. "By the way, Agent of the Saint."

Ian, lifting the bottle, looked over.

Meeting his gaze, Lucas asked cautiously, "What will you do if the Archduke sends supplies immediately?"

"We’ll finish our preparations and head for the Central region," Ian replied, tilting the bottle over his cup. His tone remained utterly calm.

To Lucas, it sounded as though Ian was certain the Archduke would never do such a thing.

"... I asked a foolish question," Lucas answered without showing it, then opened the door. He offered a faint smile to Hester, who was waiting outside.

Seems he really doesn’t like the Archduke.

It had been the same last time. There was no loyalty toward the Archduke in Lucas, only a sense of duty. And perhaps Lucas was not the only one. Resentment toward the Archduke must have been building for a long time. That, too, might have been one of the reasons the Archduke remained particularly wary of Ian.

"Are you finished speaking?" Rigg asked from the doorway once Lucas and Hester were gone.

Ian looked at him and nodded. "Yeah. Come in and warm yourself by the fire."

"Once I’ve finished my tasks. When would you like to bathe, Great Warrior? I’ve already prepared the water."

At that, Ian studied Rigg’s face more closely. It wasn’t just that the boy had thoughtfully fetched water on his own.

Only now did Ian realize how clean his face was. The words he had said to the kid as a joke in the past naturally passed through his mind.

Is that really why everyone started enjoying baths?