After the initial conversation seemed to have ended, the atmosphere inside the tent did not disperse as quickly as Philip had expected.

  A few nobles who had already stood up to leave suddenly paused. Some returned to the table, while others simply remained nearby, slowly taking another sip of wine. No one openly stated that they wished to continue discussing the matter, but the way they hesitated… suggested that Roland’s proposal had touched upon something many of them had already been thinking about.

  The first to speak was a baron from the western region.

  “Sir Roland,” he said calmly, as though asking about something quite ordinary, “suppose we do more than exchange information… and actually support each other with troops when necessary. Do you think that would be possible?”

  Roland paused for a moment.

  Perhaps even he had not expected things to go that far.

  Another noble—this one older, with quite a few strands of silver already in his hair—continued slowly.

  “What he means is not a formal treaty.”

  He gently rotated the silver cup in his hand.

  “Only that… if one of our forces is pressed into a difficult situation, the others might send a portion of their troops to assist.”

  A third noble nodded.

  “Within reasonable limits.”

  A young knight standing behind his lord added quietly,

  “No one here has an army large enough to act alone.”

  As soon as he finished speaking, he fell silent, perhaps realizing he had been a bit too blunt.

  “But if we combine our forces…”

  He left the sentence unfinished.

  The meaning, however, was obvious.

  Philip stood still, observing.

  To be honest, this was not entirely the direction he had anticipated. At first he had only considered a simple information network—something vague enough that the Count would not pay attention to it.

  But it seemed the people here had thought further ahead.

  Or perhaps… they were more worried than he had expected.

  Roland looked around the tent. His gaze lingered on each person, as though trying to confirm that this was not merely a spontaneous suggestion.

  “You all understand what you’re saying, don’t you?” he asked.

  No one objected.

  A middle-aged knight—the representative of a small hill-country family—spoke slowly.

  “We brought our troops here under the Count’s orders.”

  He paused, taking a sip of wine before continuing.

  “But I believe none of us are obligated to throw our soldiers into a meaningless situation.”

  Another noble nodded slightly.

  “At the very least… if we cooperate, we won’t be pushed onto the front line alone.”

  The atmosphere in the tent grew heavier.

  It could be said that this was the first time that evening people had begun speaking more directly about what truly worried them.

  Roland let out a quiet breath.

  “So what exactly do you want me to do?”

  The silver-haired baron looked at him.

  “You organized this banquet.”

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  He spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully.

  “And you were the first person to bring up this matter.”

  Another noble—who had been rather straightforward since the beginning—said plainly,

  “If we need someone to coordinate… I think you are the most suitable choice.”

  Roland frowned.

  “A leader?”

  His voice carried a hint of doubt.

  No one in the tent objected to the word.

  Several people nodded. Another added,

  “Not an absolute leader.”

  “Just someone to coordinate when necessary.”

  Roland remained silent for quite a while.

  Finally, he looked toward Philip.

  That glance made Philip almost certain that Roland understood who had started all of this in the first place. Philip merely shrugged slightly. To be honest, he was also curious to see how Roland would handle the situation.

  If Roland refused, everything might simply end here.

  But Roland did not refuse.

  He straightened his posture.

  “Very well.”

  Roland spoke simply, almost without drama.

  “But we must clarify a few things first.”

  Everyone looked at him.

  “First,” Roland said, “this is not an alliance against the Count.”

  No one objected.

  “Second, each of us retains full command of our own soldiers.”

  A noble nodded immediately.

  “That is only natural.”

  Roland continued.

  “If we ever need to act together, we will discuss it before making any decisions.”

  He paused briefly.

  “If you all accept those conditions… I can temporarily take on the role of coordinator.”

  A short silence followed.

  Then the silver-haired baron nodded first.

  “My house agrees.”

  The second person said,

  “So do we.”

  One after another.

  No one appeared overly enthusiastic, but no one withdrew either. Among nobles, sometimes that alone was enough for an agreement to form.

  And thus, a small alliance between territories was born—this time no longer merely hinted at.

  Philip watched the entire process in silence.

  From a cold, objective perspective, this alliance was still fragile. The participating territories were all small. Their military forces were limited. Furthermore, this cooperation rested entirely upon temporary goodwill.

  A single failed battle.

  A strict order from the Count.

  Or simply one noble changing his mind.

  Any of these could cause the entire structure to collapse.

  But Philip did not believe it was meaningless.

  If all the forces present here were combined, they could field more than a thousand soldiers. For small territories, that was already a number that could not be ignored.

  More importantly, behind each noble here stood a family, a territory, and their own network of connections. If this alliance lasted long enough, they would almost certainly encounter other nobles along the marching route.

  And when that happened, someone might wish to join.

  Philip could not help but think about the Count.

  It was difficult to imagine that the lord would appreciate small nobles organizing their forces like this. But if everything remained under the name of “battlefield cooperation,” it would also be difficult for him to find a legitimate excuse to interfere.

  The meeting ended shortly afterward.

  One by one, the nobles left the tent.

  In the end, only Philip and Roland remained.

  Roland sat down heavily in his chair and let out a clear sigh.

  “Lord Montserrat.”

  “Yes?”

  “You know,” Roland said while staring at the table in front of him, “tonight I only intended to sell a few magical items.”

  Philip chuckled softly.

  “Perhaps things went a little… beyond the plan.”

  Roland looked at him for a moment.

  “The original idea was yours.”

  Philip did not deny it.

  After a brief silence, Philip spoke again.

  “I have another question.”

  Roland raised an eyebrow.

  “I assume it’s another sensitive one?”

  “Possibly.”

  Philip said slowly,

  “Sir Roland… if someone wanted to learn magic, would that be possible?”

  Roland looked at him for quite a long time.

  “You intend to become a mage?”

  Philip paused.

  In his mind, a faint image surfaced—a skeletal figure in black robes standing on a battlefield, its magic tearing apart an entire army within moments.

  The memory was not entirely clear. But it was enough for Philip to understand that in this world, magic was a completely different kind of power.

  Finally he said,

  “I’m just considering it.”

  Roland let out a quiet breath.

  “If you want my advice… I would suggest abandoning that idea.”

  Philip raised an eyebrow.

  Roland continued.

  “Magic is not something easy to learn.”

  “Even someone with talent needs many years.”

  He looked directly at Philip.

  “A mage spends decades reaching a level where his abilities truly matter. During that time, you would have to give up almost everything else.”

  He paused briefly before speaking bluntly.

  “For someone who is not the heir… I imagine your family would prefer you to seek a position in the army or the court rather than disappear for ten years studying magic.”

  Philip did not argue.

  Roland thought for a moment before saying,

  “Still… if you’re only curious, I can perform a simple test.”

  He took a small crystal from his leather pouch.

  “Hold this.”

  Philip did so.

  A faint light appeared, like a thin mist of glowing fog.

  “Just hold the stone.”

  A few seconds passed.

  The crystal in Philip’s hand emitted a weak glow.

  Roland frowned slightly.

  The light was extremely faint—so faint that without careful attention it might have been missed entirely. Yet the reaction of the mana felt somewhat different from what Roland usually observed.

  “Do you feel anything?” Roland asked.

  Philip thought for a moment.

  “A little warmth.”

  The light faded.

  Roland took the crystal back, examined it for a few seconds, then put it away.

  “You have a slight ability to sense mana,” Roland said.

  He shrugged.

  “Not uncommon.”

  Then he added one more sentence:

  “But it doesn’t mean you should become a mage.”

  Philip nodded.

  Neither of them spoke further.

  What Roland did not realize was that in the moment the crystal glowed, his mana had left a very small trace within the flow of magical energy surrounding Philip.

  Something… had recorded that trace.

  An extremely rare talent.

  But at that moment, inside the quiet tent in the military camp, neither of them knew that it had just happened.