The moment the words "All troops, assemble." rang out—
The soldiers inside the barracks first wore expressions of disbelief.
Then, as if hoping Tristan would reconsider and give them a more palatable order, they forced smiles. Their pitiful attempts were almost laughable.
Did they think this was a social gathering?
If he simply remained silent for a single second, they would realize something was wrong and adjust their attitudes accordingly.
But Tristan wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to shove discipline into their ears.
"Do the soldiers here need to hear an order twice before following it?"
His voice was calm but heavy, and the squad leader flinched.
"N-no, sir!"
"If that’s the case, prove it immediately. Because if I have to keep giving orders to people who neither follow them nor offer rational objections, the only command I’ll be issuing next is discharge."
"We accept your orders! I’ll notify the men at once!"
The squad leader bolted from the barracks.
A scout, having observed the exchange, hesitated before stepping forward.
"Then, I’ll report the confirmed information."
Following the testimonies of mountain farmers, they had scouted the ridges. They found uprooted trees and fallen boulders but failed to spot any monsters. There were no casualties, and given how widespread the claimed sightings were, the efficiency of conducting an operation in such an area was extremely low...
"Efficiency," huh.
Tristan knew exactly what that word truly meant.
"So, it’s an area deemed unworthy of protection? A farmland that involves 'rocks' and 'trees' can’t possibly be a productive one, after all."
"...That’s correct," the scout admitted, lowering his voice slightly.
"In fact, during our patrol, we requested the lord’s cooperation, but he was reluctant. He said it would be enough to deal with the monsters once they emerged from the mountains."
"So he doesn’t care if the mountainous terrain is wrecked. What do you think, Young Duke?"
Arthur, who had been quietly listening, responded immediately.
"It’s likely a type of burrowing monster. Even if we reduce the mountain to rubble, it won’t conveniently surface for us to hunt. If anything, the moment it moves past the rocky terrain, it’ll rampage through the fertile farmlands instead."
"As expected, you know your stuff."
"That said, I do agree that sending soldiers into the mountains is inefficient. The fastest solution is for a small elite force to take the risk instead."
"...In other words—"
There was no need for deliberation. The primary attack force for this 'small elite unit' would undoubtedly be Tristan and Arthur themselves.
But before they could further exchange such obvious statements, the squad leader returned to the barracks.
"Your Highness, Prince Tristan—"
"Are the soldiers ready?"
"No, sir. Rather, the lord of Blue Atrium, Count Braum, has prepared a banquet at the castle and requests your immediate—"
Tristan flicked two fingers. The meaning was clear.
Updat𝒆d fr𝑜m freewebnøvel.com.
Must I give an order twice?
After a brief moment of hesitation, the squad leader made his decision. His master was Tristan.
"...The soldiers are ready!"
"Send them in."
"Yes, sir!"
One by one, the soldiers entered the barracks and began reporting their observations.
Every time the tent flaps at the entrance swayed, Tristan could see a messenger from the lord fidgeting outside, desperately pleading with the squad leader. But that was none of his concern.
Once all reports were collected, Tristan and Arthur finally boarded the carriage bound for the castle—just as the sun was beginning to set.
Arthur spoke first.
"I thought you’d choose to remain at the camp."
"I have no fondness for sleeping outdoors. If I arrive late enough, the lord will at least prepare a bedroom."
"Aha."
It had been a half-joke, half-truth. But Arthur accepted it with such sincerity that it left Tristan feeling genuinely embarrassed for the first time in a while.
Now that I think about it, this guy didn’t grow up navigating social circles. He was raised in Frost Hill—a greenhouse... no, a snow dome.
An only son, expected to succeed from birth.
A natural talent, refined through trials of fire and steel, until he became a finished blade.
There were only two fates for a beautiful sword.
Reverence, or fear.
A fitting virtue for a lord.
His lack of social maneuvering would be covered by the subordinates who adored him.
And Arthur was not a fool—he would learn the necessary administrative skills soon enough.
Outside the carriage window, the lord’s castle loomed closer, its white stone bathed in the red hues of dusk.
Who will be the master of this castle?
Tristan stole a glance at the man sitting across from him.
Arthur...
Even though no battle had begun, he already knew. Arthur was strong.
Instinct whispered in his ear:
The rightful master of Blue Atrium... will be Arthur Albion.
A sharp pang stabbed his chest.
No.
Doris must never have a reason to be disappointed in him.
At that thought, Tristan suddenly jerked his head up, as if pricked by a needle.
What the hell am I thinking?
Who was supposed to be disappointed in whom?
"I am a man close to perfection!"
Doris had no reason to be disappointed in him.
Handsome, healthy, an expert dancer and escort, a prince, and intelligent to boot. Where else could someone find another man like him?
Even if he didn’t inherit Blue Atrium, his parents would ensure he got another fief. At worst, he’d be granted a golden business empire instead.
Even when Doris first heard about the monsters in Blue Atrium, she must have known that I might not inherit this land... and yet, she wasn’t disappointed in the slightest.
There was no problem.
All he had to do was demonstrate his excellence here.
Doris being disappointed in him—something as absurd as the sky falling—was not something he needed to worry about...
...Or so he told himself.
"...Young Duke. Shall we play a card game?"
"I appreciate the offer, but I don’t know how to play. If you’d be willing to teach me—"
"The game can be as simple as throwing the cards as far as possible."
"Is that even a card game?"
"It is."
Tristan pulled out a box of playing cards from the carriage’s provisions.
It didn’t matter if it was a game of card throwing or setting them on fire.
As long as it could distract him from this ridiculous thought—
"I want to impress her."
This childish feeling.
***
Meanwhile, back at the camp...
As soon as Tristan and Arthur left, bonfires flickered to life throughout the encampment.
With both superiors gone, the atmosphere immediately softened. Of course, it also helped that their mission was nearly complete.
"Haaah... We’ll be heading back soon, right?"
"They say the dukes of Frost Hill have always been monstrously strong. Arthur will probably wipe out the remaining beasts in no time."
"...Then why is the prince even here?"
At the mention of Tristan, the soldiers exchanged quick glances.
Confirming that the squad leader was absent, they immediately launched into gossip.
"Exactly! Shouldn’t this be handled by Frost Hill’s duchy? What’s with this random interference?"
"I heard the Third Prince killed a monster during the hunting tournament."
"Wasn’t it just a big boar? Those nobles get easy targets stocked in the hunting grounds. Maybe it only looked huge to them."
Just then, someone interjected into their conversation.
"Oh, I saw it myself. His Highness really did slay a monster."
The soldiers turned toward the newcomer.
A young man with a friendly smile introduced himself.
"Nice to meet you all. I’m Rick Ray. I was hired as an attendant for both princes on this journey."
"Ahem. By any chance..."
"Oh, no worries! I have no intention of snitching. I’m just a temporary hire—I don’t have any loyalty to spare. Besides, His Highness works us to the bone..."
"Ahaha! No kidding. The way he barked orders earlier was something else."
"Right? Well, since they won’t be back tonight, why don’t we have a little party of our own?"
Rick pulled out a cloth-wrapped bundle of cookies.
Laughter erupted around him.
Soldiers who work hard love sweets.
Their faces softened. Their tongues loosened.
"I heard this campaign might determine the next lord of Blue Atrium."
"That’s not just a rumor—it’s a fact. We’re witnessing history."
Rick grinned, his expression turning icy.
"Oh? Interesting. Who do you all think it’ll be?"