I sit deep in my chair in my tent and look up at the sky. But all I could see was a piece of cloth from the tent.

　As soon as I sat down on the chair, I noticed a pain in the details of my legs and feet. Perhaps it was due to the fact that it had been a long time since I had fought on horseback, or perhaps it was the first time I had fought on horseback with this body. The muscles in his arms were also twisted in a strange way, transmitting some pain to his brain. But none of it was fatal.

　The wound on my right arm, inflicted by my grandfather, or even the enemy general, Richard, was also minor. Judging from the fact that he didn't feel any poisonous reactions, it was unlikely that this would cause him to lose the use of one of his arms. Fialaat bandaged it very carefully.

　The bottom line is that I made it back with a few scars. One wrong move and I'd be dead.

　I took a deep breath of air and exhaled. I repeated it several times. The still cold air filled my lungs and awakened my elated body.

　There were a lot of emotions in my heart, but only one was rising to the surface. At least it wasn't a celebration of safety, that's for sure.

　--Couldn't finish it, huh?

　The word "regret" pulsated loudly in my chest.

　Of course, I was half prepared for that. Richard is not a man with a life so simple that he can be killed so easily. In fact, he was probably lucky that they didn't cut off his head.

　Next time, this will not happen again. This will be the last time that we cross swords and only slightly wound each other. The next time we touch our blades against each other, we will have a clear settlement. I had a hunch.

　It's funny. Once you're on the battlefield, you never know where you'll die. You could be hit by a mook's spear, or your heart could be ripped out by a remote archer or magician. That would be much more likely.

　But an inexplicable feeling swirled in my chest, deep in my brain. Someday, Richard and I will cross swords again. And when he does, it will be settled. I had such a definite feeling.

　The small scar on his cheek was giving him a searing pain.

"I'm coming in, Lugis. You still haven't slept.

　I was sitting in my chair, looking up at the heavens and doing nothing, when the voice came to me. I was sitting in my chair, looking up at the heavens, when I heard the voice of the saintly Mattia, clear and yet haunting.

　She was taking off the ceremonial garment that she usually wears on her body, so I guess she was about to go to sleep. The impression she gave me was much softer.

I'm sorry I couldn't cut off the head of the enemy general.

　He looked away from Mattia and said, feeling somehow unhappy at his lack of success.

　If we had been able to cut off Richard's head here, we could have prevented the loss of soldiers. Hopefully, that would have been enough to swallow up the confused army of the Great Patriarch. The presence of a commander is so powerful. At the very least, it would have reduced the number of people dying on our side.

　Thinking about it, it was a shame.

　At the sound of my voice, Mattia fell silent for a moment, and then let out a big sigh. Then her expression distorted. It was as if she was trying to figure out how to communicate with a badly made person.

　What's that supposed to mean?

You really can be a hero and still say things like that, Rougis.

　After a sigh, Mattia sat down in a nearby chair with a gentle line on his face. Her voice has a strange, gentle color to it. She didn't sound dumbfounded, nor did she sound as angry as she had in the past.

　Mattia continued to open his lips, not letting the words trail off.

I don't care. The sight of you boldly slashing at an enemy general is enough to raise the morale of the troops. And Kalia and Fialat, their morale as well. You may not know it, but there are many who take pleasure in being dependent on you.

　I asked if that was the case, and Mattia parroted back that it was. I asked if that was the case, and Mattia parroted that it was. The words never faltered, and the gaze that stared at me pierced me.

The most important thing this time was not to kill the enemy general, but to bring you back safely. In that sense, there is no better outcome than this.

　As she said this, Mattia's eyes, which were looking straight at me, showed a slight disturbance. In the event that you're not sure what you're looking for, you'll be able to find a lot more information on the web.

　It was an unusual behavior for Mattia. Compared to her usual appearance, in which calculation and reason are her friends, this was in a sense a very human appearance.

　Perhaps Mattia had a lot on her mind during this meeting?

　In fact, there is no doubt that the meeting was a burden to Mattia. After all, it was my own decision to agree to the meeting in response to the letter from the military envoy, and I hadn't consulted Mattia about it.

　It is not strange that Mattia had some feelings about it.

Well, I'm sorry for deciding on the ...... meeting on my own.

"Yeah, really.

　I threw the words slowly and awkwardly to Mattia, and without pause, her voice pierced my throat. I'm not sure what to make of it, but I think it's a good idea.

　Her gaze is more frustrated than angry. That's not good. You've got a lot on your plate, this one.

You promised not to be reckless, and you're going to break that promise. Lugis, I can't help but wonder to what extent promises and contracts mean anything to you.



　She bounced her lips in a sultry way, and then took my hand on the table. She rubbed my right hand with both hands, and then looked at me closely as if she were observing me.

　Mattia's hands were strangely white and small. Compared to my hands, they are probably several sizes larger. Comparing them up close like this, it's as if they were the hands of a completely different being.

　Mattia stares at my hand and says. The words were slightly emotional, which was unusual for her.

"Lugis. To be honest with you, I am not very calm in this war.

　Therefore, I don't want you to be too reckless," Mattia moved her lips. It was the confession of a saint that came out of nowhere.

　She's not calm. That Mattia... For a moment, I felt something unpleasant crawl up my spine at the unexpected words. It was as if I had been told something that was impossible.

It was as if he was being told something he should not be. Nothing like this had ever happened before. I can't stop the buzzing in my chest. My head flickers white at times.

　Mattia's tiny fingers squeezed my hand tightly. I can't see her face as she is lying face down, but her voice is shaking in the air, and she seems to be scared of something unknown.

　So she's not calm. If you think about it, you can say that it is natural.

　After all, the numbers this time are very different from the past. Soldiers in the order of 10,000 are stirring and losing their lives in unknown places. In the midst of such a battlefield, there are few people who can maintain their sanity as before, and even the saint Mattia is not crazy if she loses her cool a little.

　I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do this, but I'm sure I'll be able to do it.

Of course that's part of it. But that's not the main factor, no.

　Her voice sounded weak, as if it didn't belong to Mattia at all. It's not her words, at least not as a saint.

I'm sure you'll be able to figure out what's going on.

　It was not the words of a saint, but rather a sob that a girl named Mattia managed to squeeze out of her lips.