I took a deep breath and stepped into the tent, careful not to show that I had overheard their conversation. The emperor and Almon stood around a large circular table with a sprawling map laid across it.
"How'd it go?" Almon asked, a slight grin on his face.
"I didn't bother."
Both the emperor and Almon's expressions stiffened. They had clearly wanted me to kill the forest warden. By not doing so, I had inadvertently committed an act of resistance.
"Oh well, not to worry," the emperor said, though the disappointment was evident on his face. "I have something else to discuss with you."
"What is it, Your Majesty?" I replied. This old bastard always had something to say, but I could never predict what would come from his sly mouth.
"I see you've become injured," he noted, the smugness in his tone unmistakable. "To aid you in the future, I would like to offer you new armour and a new weapon."
"Thank you, Your Maj-"
"Hush now, I wasn't finished." I glanced at Almon, but his expression remained unreadable. "I can't have you dying. You're an investment, and I expect results."
I bowed my head. "Yes, Your Majesty."
The awkward silence was broken by the sound of clunking armour and the flapping of the tent's entrance. Odius entered, his arrogant smirk plastered across his face. "Are we going to attack soon? I'm becoming bored of waiting."
The emperor sighed. "Not yet, Odius. Our troops need to prepare before the siege."
"Oh, who cares about preparation? All we need to do is throw bodies at their walls and overrun them. Haven't we killed most of their army by now?" Odious was clearly impatient. How he had survived in this world was beyond me. He walked over to the map, pointing to a city in the top left corner. The map showed various locations, each named: Nierra in the top middle, Draconia to the left, Credeni at the bottom left, The Sylvan Empire in the top right, and Cassis in the bottom right, with Pax in the middle. The world seemed rather small.
Odius' grating voice pulled me from my thoughts. "If we don't defeat the Sylvans now, we're only giving the Empire of Draconia time to get involved. You know how much they despise us after their religion was banned from Cassis. They'll do anything to regain their influence."
I didn't know much about the politics of this world, but Cassis seemed to have more enemies than allies. The emperor however, was clearly capable of leading an army to face the world if he so desired.
"You can leave us now, Yoshida," Almon remarked, his words a saving grace. "Go back to the hospital tent and have your wounds tended to."
Without a second thought, I walked out and headed straight back. I was actually looking forward to seeing Imira. Upon arriving at the tent, I saw her sitting alone. I coughed to get her attention, but when her gaze met mine, she wore a frown.
"What's the matter?" I asked, hoping to console her in any way I could.
"You killed that man, didn't you?" Imira's arms were crossed, and she avoided eye contact.
"No, why would I do that?" I replied, but my expression at the time of the incident must have suggested otherwise, making her inference understandable.
"Well, everyone here seems to call you the Devil." The words didn't roll off her tongue easily.
"Ha, that's just a stupid nickname that's been passed around. Don't think anything of it," I told her, trying to reassure her that I was a normal person. I wasn't sure why, but I wanted her to trust me. Eventually, Imira calmed down and helped apply a strange ointment to my wrist. I had never felt such excruciating pain.
"Your arm is healing well, actually too well, but you need to rest," she said with a pitiful look.
I wasn't going to complain about taking a break. I couldn't remember the last time I didn't have to worry about anything, not even in Japan.
A week passed, and the camp became more lively. Soldiers trained relentlessly, honing their skills in preparation for the final battle of the war. My new armour had been fully crafted, along with a weapon designed specifically for my one-handed use. When discussing my needs with the blacksmith, I had insisted on a helmet that fully covered my face to prevent anyone from pestering me about my appearance. Now, it was finally here, resting by the side of my bed in the medical tent.
Imira woke me up, more excited than I was, like a child on Christmas morning. I had never celebrated Christmas with my parents, but I guessed that kids acted like this. The black armour was formidable and intimidating, designed for both protection and psychological impact on the battlefield. Every piece was meticulously crafted to ensure maximum efficiency and defence while projecting an aura of dread. It was completely different from the gear I had worn in the gauntlet.
I picked up the helmet, a full-face covering helm with a narrow horizontal visor for vision. The blackened steel surface was polished to a dark, mirror-like finish, giving it an almost supernatural gleam. I placed it on my head, surprised by the flexibility of the vision—enough to make the sacrifice in visibility worth the extra protection. The only colour on the entire suit was the red double-headed eagle on the cloak's back. It didn't feel like a nation's flag, more like a slave mark, indicating who I belonged to.
Finally, there was the sword. A sabre with a black sheath and handle lined with gold. The slightly curved blade was lightweight. One might think it would break under impact, but as I replicated the blade dance once taught to me, it felt like it could cut through mountains. I must've looked like a kid playing with toys since Imira was giggling as she watched me swing the sabre about.
"Impressive, Mr. Devil." It was an annoying nickname she had given me over the past week. But she had looked after me diligently, to the point where my arm was no longer prone to bleeding.
"Jealous?" I responded with a playful smirk.
"Slightly, but that sword is no good if you lose the other hand." She was right; if I was careless like last time, I might lose another limb—or my life. "Don't take my words so seriously, I was just joking." Imira had noticed my thoughtful expression as I considered the different outcomes of the upcoming battle.
"I'll be fine, just you watch," I said, reciprocating her playful attitude. I noticed Almon walking over to me.
"Enjoying the new armour?" he asked, with a more positive expression than usual.
"Yes, thank you, sir," I responded, bowing slightly.
"It'll be a big battle tomorrow, so I don't want to see the same shit you pulled last time," Almon said seriously. "Understand?"
"Yes, sir."
He nodded and left. I flicked him off as he turned his back, Imira yet again laughing. The coming days would be important, although Almon's words seemed harsh and abrupt they were true
I returned to the tent I had been assigned, finding solace in solitude once again. Part of me wished to stay with Imira in the makeshift hospital, but the influx of patients had cluttered the space, and I knew I was taking up too much of her time. I lay back on the poorly made bed frame, staring up and getting lost in my thoughts.
I had to survive in this world. With no other goals, that was all I could focus on. Survival, and Imira—the girl who had crept into my heart within only a week. If I survived, we could talk more. I would see her hearty smile and her short, smooth hair glinting in the sunlight. That is what I would fight for—myself and Imira.
As I lay there, the sounds of the camp drifted in—distant voices, the clanging of weapons being sharpened, the crackling of campfires. The night was alive with the anticipation of the coming battle. My thoughts kept drifting back to Imira, her gentle touch as she tended to my wounds, her laughter filling the air with a warmth that was rare in these grim times.
I closed my eyes, imagining her face. If I could just make it through the next battle, I would have a chance to see her again, to hear her voice, to maybe even tell her how much she meant to me, though I might not have the courage to tell her. That hope, fragile as it was, gave me the strength to face whatever came next.
To be continued…