After all the shenanigans with Enna were done, we moved toward what remained of the main mansion and finally discussed things with the Duke, the Duchess, William, the Princess, and Craiena.

  It was somewhat pleasant to see them taking me seriously for the first time, and even more so to see them talk and look at me. It seemed William had explained things to them.

  But after a plan was made, we got straight to work.

  First things first, I had to prepare the field for tomorrow. Apparently, despite my objections, everyone had decided to fight from the comfort of the mansion. A dumb place, really, yet somehow strategically ingenious.

  The mansion sat atop a hill, and despite its poor defenses, William and his men wasted no time cutting down whatever trees they could find nearby. Spikes, traps, crude barricades, digging trenches and makeshift moats, anything that could be assembled and conjured in haste was dragged or dug into existence.

  My task was to unmake those spikes, finally freeing the rotting bodies impaled along the slope. According to Ephe, it was simple enough: touch the spikes and tell her to unmake them. Easy, right? No.

  The problem was the aftermath.

  The moment the magic gave way, the corpses followed gravity with enthusiasm.

  I had to dodge free-falling carcasses, smashing into the earth around me. I puked at the smell, again and again, and just as often at the wet, obscene sound rotting bodies made when they hit the ground. It sounded squishy and crunchy at the same time, making me feel horrible.

  Pity I wasn’t alone.

  “Any help, Your Grace?” my new retainer asked just as I leapt sideways, narrowly dodging the falling corpse of an iron-clad soldier.

  I groaned, pushing myself back to my feet. “...No. Just stay there.”

  At my command, she nodded, straightened her posture, and proceeded to watch me like I was some sort of Charlie Chaplin routine, waiting patiently to see what my dumbass would do next.

  It annoyed me.

  “Actually,” I said, turning toward her with a frown. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

  “I could,” she nodded thoughtfully. “It would be wise to visit the city and speak with the Guild and the High Temples. Perhaps some help will come. Maybe I can post a quest and get some volunteers.”

  “Is that even legal?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Not in the least. But if the Guild Master approves it, then it should be fine.”

  “Why would she approve it?” I frowned. “The Guild spent two straight hours bragging about remaining neutral in all matters. Working for the people, by the people, not the Noble Houses.”

  At that, Enna smiled, like she knew something I didn’t. “Want to make a bet?”

  Are we really betting at a time like this?

  Still, her confidence and her recently upgraded demeanor felt… oddly pleasant.

  “Hell... why not,” I said.

  We shook on it, and she took her leave while I returned to training my goalkeeping skills by dodging dead men.

  By the afternoon, after washing the stink of sweat and death from my skin, I sat for a while and realized I’d lost my invasive shadow.

  I still caught myself acting as if Relia were there, hesitating in the bathroom, glancing over my shoulder while bathing, but knowing she wasn’t brought both relief and an unexpected loneliness.

  Just to be clear, to both you and Julia, this wasn’t some budding kinship or tragic romance.

  I simply missed the safety of knowing a Cataclysm was guarding me at all times for the very reasonable price of one liter of blood per day. Who wouldn’t pay that?

  Still, after breathing for a while, pretending I was on vacation instead of preparing for a war I had more or less nothing to do with, I got up, changed into fresh, clean, blessedly air-conditioned clothes, and left the guest mansion for yet another meeting.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “Done with the impaled?” William chuckled as I stepped through the rubble of the main mansion.

  “Yes,” I sighed. “I didn’t know what to do with the dead, so they’re still there. But the spikes are gone.”

  He waved it off. “Not to worry. I’ll have my men loot the bastards for all they’re worth. Now come, there are things to discuss.”

  Once I reached the old man, we headed toward the still-standing wing of the mansion, meeting Stevin along the way. He fell in beside us without a word, joining whatever discussion was about to happen.

  Inside the makeshift war room, we nodded to the people already present and took the empty seats prepared for us.

  “Welcome,” Silius spoke first, nodding toward William before glancing at me for a brief moment... and saying nothing.

  Despite his recent concern for his safety around me, the fucker still hated my guts. Coincidentally, the feeling was mutual. I hadn’t forgotten how little of a father he’d been before the assassination attempt.

  Alice, the Duchess, however, smiled at me and gave a gentle nod, seated between her daughter and Stevin.

  The Princess, occupying Stevin’s other side, spoke next. “We’ve received word that additional reinforcements will arrive by noon, during the battle.”

  “Good,” William nodded. “'Bout damn time.”

  “What can you do?” Craiena shrugged. “The First and Third Legions were tied up with other matters back in the capital. Poor timing.”

  “Or arranged,” William countered, smiling despite the weight of the words.

  “What are you implying?” Silius asked. “That my brother has backing?”

  “I doubt it’s much,” William replied, shrugging. “But it’s plausible.”

  Even Craiena didn’t deny the possibility.

  If there was backing, the real question was from whom. What power could offer a Duke’s House something worth their time besides a handful of expendable troops?

  But before ancient history could finish crawling through my mind, William turned to me.

  “Say, Elio.”

  “Hm?” I muttered, looking at him, confused. Nothing had been discussed yet. It was odd timing to drag me into this shit.

  “At the earlier meeting,” he said, waving a hand vaguely behind him, “You mentioned the location we chose for the battle, saying it wouldn’t work. Care to elaborate?”

  “Not much to say,” I shrugged. “We’ve got the high ground, but that’s about it. We don’t know what their army is bringing, or what Roads they have available. Our defenses are thin.”

  I leaned back slightly.

  “From what I know, a siege would’ve been the smarter option, especially if we’re still outnumbered. Time is our ally. The longer we hold while losing as few men as possible, killing theirs from a distance, the worse their odds become. Meanwhile, our reinforcements get closer. It’s simple warfare, really.”

  “Simple warfare, really,” William taunted, repeating my words like a dumbass. “Do you have on-the-ground experience or are you just talking to freshen your mouth?’

  “No ground experience,” I shook my head. “Just what I read in my libraries from past wars.”

  “A scholar, I see,” William sighed. “And what place would qualify to your standards?”

  “None,” I shrugged. “I barely know the roads I walked on. I do not know this Kingdom or what stands over the next hill.”

  “A pity then,” Craiena muttered. “We stick to the plan.”

  “Aye,” William nodded.

  And one after the other, they all agreed that a change in the location was a poor idea now, especially with mere hours before their enemies arrived.

  “So be it,” I nodded last.

  Two hours of planning later, the discussion finally came to a close. Two hours during which I spoke very little.

  They were rude to me today. Normally, I would’ve cared, but I assumed everyone was simply stretched thin, nerves frayed by the coming battle. So I paid it no mind and returned to the guest mansion immediately, skipping dinner altogether.

  When I stepped inside, my Priestess retainer still hadn’t returned.

  That was… odd. An entire day should’ve been more than enough for her to do whatever she had planned. Then again, the Guild had a talent for trapping people in bureaucratic meetings, so I wished her luck in my head and brushed the thought aside and went straight to bed.

  That night, I might have dreamt of Ephe speaking to me, her voice brushing past the edge of my mind just enough that I noticed, unfortunately, I was too deep in REM sleep to hear her clearly, or to care. Instead, I dreamed of something far nicer.

  Cooking with Julia.

  A pity.

  Because whatever Ephe tried to tell me had clearly been important.

  When I woke, the answers to several questions stood waiting for me, quite literally, on a spike Ephe must have conjured while I slept.

  Impaled to the ceiling, sword dangling uselessly from his limp hand, mouth frozen open, eyes wide in terror, and clearly dead, was the reason Enna hadn’t returned, as well as the proof of Stevin’s uncle’s backing.

  A Templar.

  The High Temples have chosen a side in this internal, noble feud, and it seemed to be the wrong choice.

  'Ephe, can you tell if Enna is alright or not?'

  [Yes.]

  [The Servitude Contract Allows it.]

  [Checking Initialized.]

  [...]

  [Completed.]

  [Enna is Alive.]

  [Captured, Wounded, but Alive.]

  It seemed the Custodians wanted Enna by my side for this exact reason. A chance. An opportunity.

  What opportunity?

  To kill the Saint-Priest.

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