“...Lowellmina’s faction has captured Bardloche?”
The news sent a powerful stir through Manfred’s camp.
“Y-yes! Our best men cornered Prince Bardloche as he tried to flee, but one of Lowellmina’s units struck from the opposite direction to create a pincer attack...”
Manfred’s faction used its remaining strength to drive Bardloche against the wall but lost the Second Prince after failing to turn back the princess’s militia.
“Wh-what’s going on...?!”
“Now Princess Lowellmina has the advantage!”
Despite mounting losses, Manfred’s faction had gone on the offensive to defeat Bardloche. Now those efforts had come to nothing, and everyone was reasonably tense.
“Worry not, everyone.” Strang, the mastermind behind this plan, tried calming Manfred and his commanders. “Everything is unfolding as I planned.”
Every eye fell on him.
“Strang, are you saying this is part of your strategy?” Manfred asked with evident suspicion.
“Yes, the next step will resolve everything.”
Strang’s confidence was more than a bold front, which was why his response felt inexplicable. How did Strang intend to stage a recovery in a single move?
While the assembled leaders contemplated this...
...Manfred realized something.
“Guards!”
“It’s too late.”
Strang snapped his fingers, and soldiers rushed into the tent.
“Wh-whatthe hell are you doing?!”
One by one, Manfred and his top officials were bound. Only Strang was spared. It was obvious what that meant.
“Strang! You traitor!”
“It’s a bit too late for that, Prince Manfred.”
Strang smiled at his former master’s indignant roar.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Him, turn traitor?!”
Glen couldn’t believe his ears as Lowellmina explained her plan.
“Oh my. I didn’t think you held Strang in such high regard,” Lowellmina teased.
Glen’s expression turned sour. “Don’t mock me. Strang might be the type to cut people out of his life when necessary, but he’s rational and possesses a strong sense of duty. Besides, sticking with Manfred is the only way to gain autonomy for his hometown.”
Glen suddenly gasped, and Lowellmina smiled.
“Yup, now you’ve got it.”
“You’re aware that there are conservatives who support Lowellmina, correct?”
Why? Why is this happening?
Strang continued while Manfred’s mind filled with questions.
“Their actions have marred the princess’s authority, and she’s finally put her foot down. That includes how the conservatives treat the nonconformist provinces.”
Strang retrieved a letter from his breast pocket bearing Lowellmina’s signature. It was a secret missive from the princess herself.
“Th-that’s—”
“I aligned myself with you because you were the only one to consider autonomy for my home of Wespail. However, I can’t know if that was merely lip service.”
Strang had followed Manfred and put his faith in the prince for the sake of his home. There had been no other choice. Once Strang helped install Manfred on the throne, he hoped to threaten or convince the new Emperor to honor that promise. He even expected that to be his next battle. Unfortunately, that goal had been completely subverted by Wein’s bizarre scheme to draw out Demetrio.
“However, I still carry a sense of honor, and I don’t want to lose to Lowa. There’s also a chance her word can’t be trusted either. Thus, I’d intended to remain with you until the end, but...” Strang looked down at the letter in his hand and sighed. “I never expected her to catch wind of that...”
“Wh-what do you mean?!” Manfred asked cluelessly.
Strang shook his head. “It no longer has anything to do with Your Highness.” After turning away, he cast a final merciless barb over his shoulder. “Prince Bardloche will be handed over to Lowellmina’s faction as planned, and yours will suffer enormous losses. It’s over, Prince Manfred.”
That icy, indifferent proclamation sat ill in Manfred’s stomach.
“So what will you do now?” Lowellmina asked Glen after she’d explained everything. “This is your chance to use me as a shield and reclaim Bardloche.”
She sounded playful, but her expression was stern. Even if Lowellmina wasn’t versed in the theory of combat, she knew Glen had the military strength to go to such extremes. However, he defied her expectations by sighing.
“Even if I make the trip, you’ll die along the way. If that happened, Bardloche’s faction would truly be done for.”
‘“Make the trip’...” Lowellmina shuddered with a sidelong glance.
Glen peered into the distance. “It seems that I’ve failed.”
He couldn’t even claim he’d fallen one step short. This was closer to two or three. Perhaps things would have been different if he’d honed his skills more, or perhaps they’d peaked already. Whatever the truth, it was over.
“You got me. I lost,” Glen conceded, sheathing his blade. “I’ll surrender, so please go easy on my warriors.”
“Yesss!” Lowellmina exclaimed. “All right, there’s no time to waste. Let’s hop to it and start the post-battle cleanup! I’m returning to my camp, Glen! Oh, and please don’t die by your own sword! You’re my pawn now, after all!”
“That might be true, but don’t call me that.”
Watching his old friend act like her usual self felt like a weight off Glen’s shoulders. He readied his horse.
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