Chapter 75 - Common Sense for Academy Festivals (5)

The Royal Guard was one of Krasilof's most elite military branches. There had supposedly been periods when service in it amounted to little more than an honorary post, but not during the war.

During the last war against the demons, the King of Krasilof had to take to the front in person almost constantly. Field command and tangible military strength were essential to restoring royal authority, which successive defeats had eroded.

Of course, the King of that era would have gone to the front even without those reasons.

In any case, the Royal Guard was a unit perpetually forced onto the foremost battle lines. To protect the King, its members had to be the very best in loyalty, patriotism, and ability.

As a result, it came to be regarded as the branch that gathered the nation's finest and ground them down most horribly. This continued for roughly five years, from the time the King had been forced to take the field until the hero killed the Demon King.

"Sir..."

Ivan murmured, staring at the note in disbelief.

What looked like a few hastily scrawled lines of meaningless numbers represented old tactical codes no longer in use.

Specifically, the Royal Guard's random-number cipher for command and control.

The encrypted message read as follows.

[Novagorod Withdrawal Operation. 00 killed in action. Total friendly losses: 23. 01, 11 returned alive. Rally point for all survivors: Prizhenkaya, university, in front of 00's statue.]

The Novagorod Withdrawal Operation referred to the campaign in which the former King had refused to retreat and chosen to defend a stronghold.

An intelligence failure had left Krasilof unable to anticipate the concentration of demon forces. Tumor the Scorched, one of the Seven Dragon Generals, had personally led his army into battle there when he should have been heading for the eastern front.

The United Kingdoms' operational doctrine at the time was simple. If one of the Seven Dragon Generals appeared, abandon that front. Fight a delaying action while seeking limited victories on other fronts to induce the enemy to withdraw.

The Seven Dragon Generals were calamities no human could oppose. There was no other choice.

The problem was that Krasilof, having failed to detect the general's movements in advance, had made no preparations to withdraw from that theater.

Countless civilian households. Conscripts unprepared to retreat. They had to be saved if the nation was to survive. All the more so in an age when every soldier was becoming precious.

The King had a grown son, and a grandson and granddaughter born with the gifts of a ruler. In other words, he was replaceable. But if the soldiers were wiped out, that was another matter. If the northern front collapsed, Prizhenkaya would be next.

Krasilof's name might join those of the five fallen kingdoms.

So the former King had made his choice. The most rational choice, with a smile.

He announced his presence, provoked the Dragon General, and deliberately made himself what the demon army's commander would consider the most appetizing tactical objective.

The King's delaying action saved tens of thousands of civilians and soldiers that day.

The Royal Guard had fallen with its King. Apart from Ivan and a handful of troops, no one had survived that day. No one should have.

RUSTLE.

Ivan fingered the note as he thought. In the Guard's random-number cipher, 00 had been the former King's code name. 01 was...

'The commander of the Guard.'

Pavel Sergeyevich Orlov, the Dragonslayer.

"Um... mister?"

Pale-faced, Isabelle tapped his arm. When his gaze reached her, she flinched and forced a smile.

"You're... going to kill him."

"Ah."

Only then did he notice the student choking in his grip. A student who knew nothing, who had merely delivered a note while enjoying the festival.

Ivan quietly loosened his grip, set him down, and briefly bowed his head.

"I'm sorry. That was excessive."

"N-no, it's fine! Yes, yes, I-I'll be going now!"

"Mm."

The student fled, trembling. Watching Ivan with concern, Isabelle cautiously approached and asked,

"Is it something very urgent?"

"I'm sorry."

Strictly speaking, this was a breach of duty. His only assignment was to protect the children of the Hero's Party.

Allowing himself to be swayed by a suspicious note from a survivor of those old days, someone believed dead, could well mean playing into an enemy's hands.

But... but.

Ivan remembered Pavel the Dragonslayer. The commander of the Guard, the most loyal of the royal knights. The man who had taught and guided him without prejudice against his age or station—astonishing for someone of this era.

He had never missed the war years. Those days had been far too terrible to miss.

But the heroes who had charged alongside him, the men who had fought back-to-back with him, shedding the same blood...

Do not mourn, he had been told... So he had not mourned. Those were precarious times, when he might join them at any moment. He could rejoice at the reunion awaiting him in the afterlife, but he had not mourned the dead in the land of the living.

And that had remained lodged in a corner of his heart. Like a tiny thorn, pricking him again and again.

Ivan bit his lip hard and took a moment to collect his thoughts.

"Mister, if it's urgent, go."

"But..."

Ivan turned toward the others watching him. Esidisi looked anxious, while Elpihera regarded him with a complicated expression.

Protecting them was his duty.

Seeking out a comrade he had believed dead... was a desire.

He had never agonized over a choice between duty and desire.

"What's that look for? As if I'm holding you back."

"Elpihera."

"Yes, yes, that's me. An elf, a mage, and a powerful one. Honestly. You didn't actually believe all that talk about needing protection and asking for an escort, did you?"

Elpihera heaved a sigh. Oh, she'd been pushed aside all morning, and the afternoon was finally supposed to be her turn.

"Go. Having you follow us around with that face would only make me feel guilty. Did you really think a human could presume to protect an elf? With so many elves here, what is there to worry about? Good heavens."

"That's right, Uncle. I'll be fine! Oh, and thank you all for the food! It was delicious!"

"I don't think you had even a bite..."

"Oh, come on. Let's promise not to worry about that sort of thing. All right?"

Ivan gave the chattering Esidisi a grateful look and rose from his seat.

"I hope you get it sorted out. Come back and explain, too, if you can."

"Mm."

Having breached his duty as an escort, explaining his reasons to his protectees was standard procedure. Ivan gave Isabelle a brief nod and rose from his seat.

Rally point. Prizhenkaya, university, in front of 00's statue.

The former King's statue at Jansk University stood in the middle of the plaza inside the main gate. Where the crowds were thickest.

Indeed, to hide a tree, use a forest. To hide a person, use a place like that. Most government agents did not meet in secluded spots.

Ivan set off toward the plaza with heavy steps.

* * *

"Teach me how to make this."

"Um, Miss Isabelle? Did you... like it that much?"

"No. Honestly, it's garbage, but mister cried eating it. He'll like it if I make it properly for him."

"... We did make it properly..."

"How could something like that possibly be food...?"

Boil kimchi in water and you have kimchi stew. (You don't.)

After hearing that simple recipe, Isabelle revised her assessment of the trio running the stall slightly downward.

* * *

When Ivan reached the statue, he spotted Pavel at once.

A suspicious man in a thick robe was gazing up at the stone figure. The plaza was packed with Counterintelligence Command agents to begin with; someone dressed so suspiciously should never have been able to get in.

Besides, he already knew that build and physique. Ivan was a trained agent, adept at identifying people by their body shape, bearing, and the like.

And that was a back he could never forget.

"Sir."

"Ah, you're here."

The man turned. Only then could Ivan see his face.

Shaggy brown hair, with green eyes gleaming beneath it.

An old, deep scar crossing one eye and running down his cheek.

Even the black burn mark stretching from his lower jaw to his nape, which he said he had earned hunting a dragon.

"I heard you were killed in action."

"Did you check the body?"

"No. No one could back then... But..."

"I'm joking. You're as stiff as ever. Perhaps even worse."

Pavel approached with a gentle smile and extended a hand. It felt like a dead man's hand reaching out, and Ivan stared at the gesture for a long time before recognizing it as an offer of a handshake.

The hand clasping his was firm. As though Pavel were still in his prime.

"I'm not the only one who was presumed dead. Aren't we all the more useful when we're listed as killed in action?"

"Was it a royal order?"

"Who can say?"

Ivan frowned at Pavel's smile. Had the Princess deceived him? He had distinctly been told that he was the Royal Guard's only survivor.

There was no reason to lie about this. Even if Pavel was being used as an undercover agent, surely his relationship with the Princess warranted sharing that much information.

She had watched at his side as he suffered after that day.

Perhaps his conflicted feelings showed, because Pavel patted his shoulder and said,

"It suits you. Did you start growing it to imitate His Majesty?"

"I'm embarrassed to admit it... but yes."

"Magnificent. You've grown it almost exactly like his."

"Yes, sir."

This was how normal people thought. Ivan was deeply moved to finally be speaking with a normal person of this era.

"Let me take you somewhere comfortable. Shall we?"

"Ah, I'm sorry. I'm on an operation."

"Pardon...? Oh, you've been on active duty?"

"Ever since that day. Right up to now. The same as you, isn't it?"

Ivan hesitated.

A trained agent could infer many things at once from even a brief conversation. Recognizing double meanings and subtle implications was the most basic of skills.

He couldn't leave because he was on an operation?

Yet he'd gone so far as to send an encrypted message to summon Ivan?

Then that could... also be read as meaning that summoning him here was itself part of the operation.

"Sir."

"Ah, dear me. Have I been treating you too much like a child? My mistake."

Pavel smiled. A trained agent could recognize implications even in a brief conversation, after all.

He, too, had noticed the change in Ivan's tone, and shook his head with a smile.

"The boy has grown into a man after all these years. My apologies."

"Sir."

"Don't move. There are so many people here."

A threat leveraging the crowd.

He probably didn't mean that he would slaughter them himself. Ivan, standing right in front of him, was more than capable of stopping that.

Which meant... there was a weapon capable of mass slaughter. And it was in the hands of an accomplice nearby.

Ivan let out a short sigh.

Time for self-reproach.

Choosing desire over duty was always this foolish.

And doubting "common sense" in the academy genre was just as pathetic.

Wasn't a combat event at a festival common sense? Food from home (it wasn't) and the appearance of an old comrade had made him complacent.

There would be no second time. Ivan was a rational man. He did not make the same mistake twice.

"Where does your loyalty lie, soldier?"

"Ha ha, Little Ivan. To ask that in this situation. Are you still devoting your life to meaningless royal authority?"

"Still?"

Looking Pavel in the eye, Ivan reached behind his waist.

He had no axe. Only a small dagger and a pistol.

But insufficient weaponry was no reason to avoid a fight.

"Forever. That's what you should have said. Didn't we all swear the same oath that day?"

"Ivan. Stop this pointless nonsense."

"Get down from there."

Ivan opened the eyes he had briefly closed and growled at Pavel, who still stood before the former King's statue.

"How dare you stand there."