"Have your wounds treated first. Know that I will certainly reward you for the feat you displayed today."
Monclay had no choice but to acknowledge the fact that they had escaped the crisis of annihilation thanks to Rian.
Even though he still could not understand how Rian Kade had made it back alive from the Dandelion Plains.
'What wouldn't a man do to survive?'
Crawling into a pile of corpses if it meant staying alive was only a natural human instinct.
What use were honor or pride once you were dead? Surviving cowardly while taking criticism was far more human.
Besides, was Rian Kade even in a position to receive such criticism?
Even if he had failed to protect his superiors, turned a blind eye to his subordinates' deaths, and returned alive all by himself, he had killed the mage. Thanks to that, most of the Imperial Army had drowned and their cornered allies had survived.
He deserved to be hailed as a hero!
'Of course, quickly seizing the moment of reversal and turning crisis into opportunity was largely my doing. So it's only right that I be recorded in history as the hero, and Rian Kade as the sword I wielded.'
Was he not already a figure who had been called the child of the curse and caused an uproar across the Kingdom for a time?
And was he not famous for having caused Allen Kade to lose his Aura in the aftermath of that curse?
Being praised as the hero's sword on this occasion would be the greatest possible benefit from Rian Kade's standpoint as well.
'Count Monclay Brown turned a curse into a miracle and overcame the crisis of the Battle of Dandelion Plains.'
'Seeing through the Imperial Army's scheme with their elite soldiers and mage, he used Rian Kade to achieve a come-from-behind victory.'
By spreading propaganda like this, he could package the defeat on the Dandelion Plains as a victory, allowing both of them to benefit in a mutually favorable way.
Would Rian Kade take issue with it?
There was no way he could.
Even if his father had risen from a commoner to a baronet, Rian was merely the adopted son of a retired low-grade knight.
Even if he protested, he had no backing to listen to him; rather, if he shed the stigma of the curse through this incident, swearing an oath of loyalty to Monclay would be far more profitable for him.
'As for his reward for this victory, bumping him up one rank and giving him some prize money should do.'
No matter how much he had eliminated the mage, the criticism that he had survived the battlefield all alone could not be ignored, so considering the backlash from the soldiers, that much seemed appropriate.
In any case, finishing off the remaining Imperial forces to secure a decisive victory had to come first right now.
"Well, then. I will summon you as soon as the situation is sorted out."
With those words, Monclay mounted his horse, leaving the saluting Rian behind. His guard unit followed after him.
***
Trudge—. Trudge—.
Rian limped across Trevor Bridge, which was littered with corpses.
'I guess I can breathe easy for now.'
The worst move would have been having his lone survival from the battle on the plains tied to his past and being thrown to an inquisitor.
"That'd be horrible."
When he already could not die, he would obviously be tortured while they ranted about the witch's curse or black magic spells.
He might even be thrown into the underground prison of the Church of Aria, subjected to a repeating cycle of the agony of death and the curse of regeneration—until he met complete death!
Therefore, he could easily turn a blind eye to the Battalion Commander's attitude of wanting to lay his own spoon on the credit for killing the mage and turning the tide of battle.
'Still, just leaving a wounded soldier behind like this and riding off is a bit... much. Did I act too much like I was fine?'
He had not been hoping for someone to support him by the arm, but was he not the benefactor who had saved Monclay's life all the same? Even if his injuries did not look fatal, to think the man would just ride off like that.
Of course, that attitude was the true nature of the shrewd and scheming Battalion Commander Monclay.
Shrugging it off as typical, Rian calmly crossed Trevor Bridge.
Step—. Step—.
Crossing the bridge and passing a narrow plain, he climbed up to the hillock where Monclay had been observing the battle.
Along the way, he felt the wounds he had inflicted on himself close up, and noticed that the pain in his thigh that had made him limp had eased considerably.
'Hmm. Looks like I don't completely lose my recovery power.'
Compared to the radical regenerative ability he displayed when reaching the threshold of death, it was a toddler-level recovery.
Compared to an ordinary person, however, it was undeniably a recovery speed fast enough to say he had received divine healing from a priest.
'I can't go to the medical barracks in this condition.'
In his current physical state, there was no reason to stop by the medical barracks. On the contrary, it would obviously only invite suspicion as to why he was completely fine.
Thus, upon arriving at the allied camp, Rian headed straight for the place he would have visited after receiving treatment.
It was the supply support barracks set up around the weapon carts.
"I'd like to get some armor and weapons issued."
Without stating his rank and name first, Rian went straight to business with the soldier organizing the weapons and armor inside the barracks.
"Huh?! Ricky... Platoon Leader...?!"
A soldier with ordinary brown hair and large eyes recognized Rian.
It was Benjamin, a supply unit soldier close enough to Rian to blurt out the nickname he usually called him by.
Even as he recognized Rian, his eyes wavered as though he had come face-to-face with someone who should not exist before his eyes.
With his small build, boyish face, and wavering eyes, he looked more than enough to stir a woman's protective instincts, yet—
"Benjamin, get me a wet towel too, please. As you can see, I'm a total mess."
Rian simply asked Benjamin for what he needed, lightly ignoring the man's half-dazed expression.
Swallowing dry saliva to hold onto his wits, which had nearly left him for a moment, Benjamin spoke to Rian.
"I thought you were dead! The soldiers who suddenly retreated said the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Companies must have been wiped out......."
Picking up a pen from a table in one corner of the barracks, Rian wrote down the equipment he needed in the parchment weapons management ledger and handed it to Benjamin, along with his answer.
"The Goddess of Fortune said she'd spare my life if I licked the soles of her feet, so I licked them with all my heart."
"Ha... Haha......."
Giving a reluctant laugh at Rian's joke, Benjamin traded a wet towel for the management ledger document.
Wipe—. Rub.
Rian wiped away the dried blood crusts and caked-on grime clinging to his body.
From among the high-quality equipment he had sorted and set aside while organizing supplies, Benjamin quickly found pieces that fit Rian.
Clatter—.
Setting the weapons and armor down in front of the table, he observed Rian washing off the blood.
'Phew... Was he really just lucky?'
The towel was dyed bright red.
The scars of battle and training etched across Rian's body—sculpted through steady discipline—were laid bare.
Yet among those scars, none of them looked recently made.
From what he had heard, the enemy's encirclement had been so tight that no one could even dream of breaking through.
He had also heard that the Empire's elite soldiers were mixed in among them, making a swift retreat the only wise choice.
To survive in the middle of that—
'Unless he hid inside a pile of corpses.......'
However, was Rian Kade that sort of man? There was no way.
He was a man meticulous enough to personally pick out usable equipment for the soldiers under his command, saying that no matter how outstanding one's skills were, it was useless if one's gear did not back them up.
Above all, was he not a man who always fought at the very front, to the point of spending most of his pay on replacing his damaged weapons and armor?
He was definitely not someone who would hide among corpses to cling to his life.
Benjamin asked a question as Rian put on the armor and fastened a longsword and three throwing knives to his sword belt.
"What really happened out there?"
"I got lucky."
Rian brushed off Benjamin's question again.
"No...... seriously! Huh?!"
"......"
What a persistent guy.
Since it looked like Benjamin would grab hold of his trouser leg and keep asking to the bitter end until his curiosity was satisfied if Rian just glossed over it—
Rian told him that he had blacked out while fighting, survived because corpses had piled on top of him, and disguised himself as an enemy soldier while they were distracted chasing his allies, crossing the path of death and returning alive.
He did not bother mentioning that he had killed the mage. If he did, he felt Benjamin would not let him go until he recounted that entire epic as well.
"Ah....... You really did lick the soles of the Goddess's feet......."
Benjamin still found it hard to believe, yet he had no choice but to believe it.
Come to think of it, it was something that could plausibly happen. Moreover, while anyone else might have used their injuries as an excuse to request a return to Northheim, was Rian not gearing up to head right back out to the battlefield?
"Well, then. I've got a long way to go."
"Ah... Yes, sir! Stay safe out there!"
Benjamin saw Rian off with a military salute as he left the barracks.
Step—.
Leaving the supply barracks behind, Rian turned his steps toward his next destination.
Ordinarily, he should have been receiving treatment at the medical barracks, but he had no wounds left to treat.
Nor did he have a unit barracks where he could wait until Monclay issued his next orders.
Return to Northheim?
That had not been in Monclay's orders, either.
Usually, when a soldier's injuries were severe, they were sent back to the base garrison, yet whatever Monclay was thinking, he had given no such order.
For a brief moment, the loneliness of having lost his way nearly ate at his emotions, yet—
Step—.
It made no sense for a soldier in the middle of a war to have nowhere to go.
Had his path not already been decided the moment he returned alive?
The place where the spirits of the subordinates who had followed him lingered. The place where he had experienced death and come back to life.
Rian judged that the Dandelion Plains was where he needed to go right now.
'At the very least, I should recover their bodies with my own hands.'
Later on, a cleanup unit would surely step in to handle it, but Rian did not want to stand by and watch from afar as the soldiers under his command were recovered.
And above all else.
The war was still underway.
War was never over until it was truly over.
The Imperial Army might not retreat just like this, and could launch a counterattack with yet another twist.
'Gerard, was it?'
His eyes at the very end had still been burning with fighting spirit.
Heightened during his body's recovery, Rian's keen senses had detected that fighting spirit beneath the man's bewildered gaze.
'Those were also the eyes of a man swearing he'd get his revenge no matter what.'
Therefore, he had to hurry and catch up with the main force. Since he would run into that man again one way or another, he had to be there—if only to repay him for the gift of his first death.
Step—.
Rian walked toward the stablehand in charge of the courier horses.
It was the hour when the sky burned crimson.
Tied by ropes to stakes driven into the lush green meadow, five courier horses were grazing on grass.
And the stablehand managing those horses was idly nodding off to one side, as though the ongoing war were none of his business.
"Platoon Leader Rian Kade of the 1st Platoon, 3rd Company. I need a horse to rejoin the main force."
"Huh? Ah. Yes, sir?! A horse? Ah—! You need a horse, sir?!"
Quite flustered by the sudden visit from a superior officer, the stablehand scrambled to his feet, grabbed a saddle nearby, and ran over to the horses tethered to the stakes.
Then he saddled a sleek, well-built brown horse of medium size.
It was right then.
Clop—! Clop!
From afar, a group of five riders was galloping toward them.
Judging by the direction, they seemed to be coming from Northheim.
'Are they rangers?'
Since a large-scale battle was also taking place at the Twin Gorge, they might be riding hard to report the tide of battle from over there.
Rian waited until they drew closer.
The stablehand was untying the rope from the stake to hand the saddled brown horse over to Rian when—
One of the riders who had galloped up breathlessly shouted out.
"Hey—!!! Where is Sir Monclay?! Word of an urgent dispatch brought us here, so tell him we have arrived. We are the disciples of the knight, Sir Sion!"