In the end, after that incident, her relationship with the soldiers had... well, it hadn't developed a gaping rift, but it had deteriorated to a level where one could break out at any moment.
The current situation saw Yurugen—skilled at negotiations as he was—and Knight Commander Toa holding discussions, with Sara taking the lead and doing her best to provide support, but the results were less than promising.
Being trapped inside their current fortress without the ability to mount any effective counterattack against the Northern Alliance likely had something to do with it. Not only would sitting tight fail to improve matters, but the high probability that the Church's reinforcements would arrive soon and seal their fate entirely only added fuel to the fire of their anxiety.
On top of that, the spy.
The inevitable suspicion that arose from the Earl having infiltrated their ranks—"for some reason"—was yet another factor feeding the atmosphere of distrust.
And further still, the soldiers' dissatisfaction combined with the mistrust that had piled up since the Earl had stirred them that day... to put it bluntly, the soldiers' mood could shift toward surrender at any time.
It was noon on the fifth day since they had entered the fortress.
Katia was walking along the fortress corridor, deep in thought.
She was currently serving as Yurugen's aide, working on defensive tactics and troop placement for the fortress's defense... or rather, she had been.
It was right in the middle of that when a directive—a request—came from Yurugen himself. Katia murmured the contents to herself.
"...'I'd like you to shift to assisting Ermes,' she says."
Personally, she was hap— There were no particular objections.
But wasn't improving their relationship with the soldiers the thing that demanded the most attention right now?
As for the defense, thanks to Ermes's overwhelming performance, things were running smoothly enough for the time being. The Northern Alliance's raids, while frequent, were sporadic and not particularly devastating...
(...No, wait, that's not—)
That was when it struck her.
The Northern Alliance's current approach—the Church's, and by extension Archbishop Johann's strategy.
For now, their offensive against this final fortress in Harvist territory had been limited to sporadic raids by Northern Alliance soldiers. But what was the purpose behind that?
(...What are they doing this for?)
A war fought between armies of mages differed from conventional warfare in several ways, but one overarching principle remained unchanged: committing forces piecemeal was a losing strategy.
And yet, that was precisely what the Church was doing. Sending soldiers into the fortress... and squandering them needlessly. Of course, the Church wasn't overextending either, so their losses were limited, but the fact remained that a considerable number of their soldiers had been taken prisoner.
If their goal was simply to pin them down inside the fortress, they could have achieved the same effect with far fewer raids.
So why keep this up with almost no respite? What was the reason for this, in a sense, wasteful expenditure of manpower? No, more fundamentally... the Church's entire approach this time felt roundabout and indirect.
(...Father looked so deadly serious when he gave his orders, too... I can't shake that thought...)
Carrying these doubts—about Yurugen's behavior, about the Church's true intentions—Katia opened the door to the room where Ermes was supposed to be resting.
"...He's not here...!?"
Finding the room empty, a surge of anxiety finally welled up inside her.
Where did he go? she wondered. He would never act without purpose. There must have been some situation that forced him to leave. The most likely scenario—
—Something irregular had occurred in the defensive sector he was responsible for.
With that near-certainty driving her, she broke into a run.
She found him almost immediately.
An attack was clearly still underway. By tracing the sounds of combat ringing throughout the area and zeroing in on the ones that were unmistakably different from the rest, she tracked him down without much difficulty.
When Katia finally reached his side, she was struck speechless.
"...Lady Katia?"
"Erm—!?"
There he stood, amid the forest near the fortress. Surrounded by fallen Northern Alliance soldiers.
His—shoulders slumped, breathing ragged, dark circles under his eyes.
This wasn't just from one fight. He was plainly, unmistakably exhausted.
"Why are you so... so tired—"
He shouldn't have been pushed this hard.
They had drawn up a defensive rotation with the soldiers and among themselves, keeping the workload manageable. But before she could voice any of the many questions crowding her mind, Ermes spoke.
"No, I apologize. There are no issues with the defensive schedule as planned. However—"
"...?"
"—The Church's methods have been rather ingenious."
"Ingenious...?"
She tilted her head, urging him to continue.
"During each raid, without fail, they've been sending a force to one specific point that only I can handle."
"Wh—"
"Even during my off-duty shifts, this has happened... on more than just an occasion or two. Sometimes I've had to step in despite being off duty to settle things. If I've caused you worry—"
"—'An occasion or two' is a bit of an understatement, isn't it?"
There were plenty of things she wanted to ask. But the first thing she seized on was that—his obvious attempt to gloss over it with a carefully placed pause.
"You of all people—the you who so rarely shows any signs of strain—look this visibly, obviously exhausted. Whatever happened this time couldn't have been 'once in a while.'"
"..."
"Tell me honestly how many times this has happened. If you don't—I won't forgive you."
Katia pressed him with quiet concern, a gentle but unmistakable weight behind her words.
Ermes was silent for several seconds... then, as if accepting his fate, he confessed.
"...Every time."
"...What?"
An answer far beyond what she had anticipated.
"All of these raids... including the nighttime ones, without exception. They've been sending forces capable of breaking through our defenses. Which means... effectively, I've been deployed for every single raid."
"...That can't be..."
If that was true, then it meant even sleep had been denied to him—
"...No way."
And that was when the realization hit her.
The reason the Church had been committing forces piecemeal—without rest. The reason they kept launching raids even at the cost of overextending their own forces. It was—
(...To keep Ermes from resting. To crush Ermes, the linchpin of our defense...!)
If that was the case, everything added up.
At the same time, something else welled up—a doubt directed at him.
"...Why didn't you tell me?"
If it had gotten this bad, he should have come to her.
If he had, they could have devised better countermeasures. They could have had others shoulder Ermes's share of the defensive rotation—
As if reading that very thought, he answered.
"Because... it would have further increased the soldiers' anxiety."
"Ah—"
"I understand the current situation. Right now, the soldiers are truly on the edge—whether to side with us or the Northern Alliance. The only reason they remain willing to fight in our defense, the only basis for their confidence, is one thing: 'the defense has been working so far.'"
Put another way, even that was in the danger zone. Once they realized the defense could no longer hold under the current arrangement, there was no telling which way the soldiers' opinions would swing—and no guarantee they wouldn't.
"B-but! If that's the case, then even if just the two of us—"
"Even so, changing the defensive allocation would create ripple effects. Even if we didn't change it, some disturbance would likely emerge somewhere. Right now the soldiers are extremely sensitive to any movement on our part—it would be best to eliminate even the smallest source of unease. I'm sorry for keeping quiet... but I believed this was the surest course of action."
"..."
...She couldn't argue.
Logically, she was forced to agree with what Ermes was saying. It made the most sense for their strongest fighter to bear the greatest burden.
And what made it worse—
He could actually do it.
Normally, this kind of strain would break anyone. Ermes would eventually reach his limit, and the whole thing would collapse. That was precisely the Church's aim, and he was indeed being worn down as intended.
But Ermes was different. He, who was beyond all conventional measure, would push through this impossible burden to the very end. Despite looking utterly drained, he was still performing his defensive duties flawlessly. The bodies of Northern Alliance assassins strewn about told that story clearly.
So if they left things as they were—relied on him, depended on him—and simply focused on doing what they themselves could do, that would be enough—
—But.
"...No."
Even so, the words came out in a strained whisper.
"No. I won't allow that."
"Lady Katia? Is there a problem—"
"There's no problem. There isn't, and I trust that you'll be fine because you're you—but!"
She cried out.
Something from within her heart. A magic inscribed in blood.
The lingering traces of something precious—lodged somewhere in the soul that had once communed with magic, carried on an endless tide of regret toward the past—and it screamed:
"I'm telling you—don't you dare go over there!"
"..."
"Please, Ermes. I can't offer a single logical argument. I know it's selfish to say something like this in a situation like this, but—"
With quiet, unwavering resolve, tears just barely glistening in her eyes, she spoke.
"Don't push yourself. Do this for me—for my selfishness."
She spread her arms wide.
As if blocking his path. As if stopping him from drifting away somewhere she couldn't follow.
The two of them held each other's gaze for several seconds.
Then Ermes—slowly, gently—let the tension drain from his shoulders.
"...If you say so."
In that instant.
Something—small, perhaps, but decisive—
The sound of a fate's turning point, branching outward from this very moment, began to shift.
"...Ermes."
She had always felt there was something keeping her from getting close to him, but that was no longer the case.
Running over with her usual slightly hurried stride, Katia drew close to Ermes's side.
The two of them turned to head back to the fortress together when—
"Hk—"
"Ermes!?"
Ermes's body tilted, suddenly unsteady.
Katia hurried to offer her shoulder for support— but before she could, he righted himself on his own.
"...Ah."
"Forgive me. It seems I really am more tired than I thought. I'll make sure to rest properly tonight."
With that, he declared he would manage his condition carefully despite his fatigue—just as he always did.
Watching him, Katia found herself thinking.
...Come to think of it, she hadn't had much time alone with him lately, what with being consumed by everything related to Liliana.
And just now, when he'd nearly stumbled and she'd moved to support him—he'd righted himself before they'd even touched, leaving her with a feeling not unlike a shoulder-check that found nothing but air.
Glancing around, she found no one nearby, and spotted a conveniently fallen log that looked like a perfect place to sit.
In that instant, a single idea crystallized in her mind.
"Ermes, come here."
"Huh?"
Without a moment's hesitation, she put it into action.
She took Ermes by the hand and led him over, then sat down on the fallen log. With a gesture, she beckoned him to sit beside her. He complied, albeit with a puzzled look, and the moment he did—
"Up you go."
She pulled his body toward her.
Whether from fatigue or simple surprise, he offered no resistance as he leaned over, settling neatly into position on her lap.
It was over in an instant—the lap pillow was complete.
"!?" "Um, Lady Katia, this is—"
"Don't move. It tickles."
She held his head in place. That, combined with the physical positioning and probably his own tension, rendered him immobile.
Ermes spoke in a slightly flustered voice.
"...May I ask what the purpose of this is?"
"If we go back like this, you definitely won't rest. I don't know if you'll even last through the day, so you're going to take a quick nap right here."
"But—"
"'But' nothing. And—yes, this is punishment. For making me worry, and for keeping everything from me. I'd really like to give you a proper lecture, but I'll let you off with this."
Yes, this was an extremely efficient course of action.
It reminded him of his proper place as her retainer while also giving the man who would work himself to the bone the moment he relaxed a chance to rest. Two birds with one stone.
As for wanting to spend a bit more time with him... well, it would be dishonest to say that wasn't a factor at all, but it was trivial. A rounding error.
...Though there was one concern.
"Um, I wonder if... this will actually let you rest?"
Even as she was the one doing this, she wasn't entirely confident on that front.
She had tried this once before, back before Ermes came to the Royal Capital, when the maid Leila had pestered her into it. Leila had given a thumbs-up and declared it "perfect," so it was probably fine—but honestly, her opinion wasn't exactly the most reliable.
She asked cautiously, and after a few seconds of silence, he replied.
"...Honestly, it's... quite calming."
"!"
His tone was quiet—barely a whisper—but unmistakably sincere.
At the same time—again, doing this to herself—a sensation she found both ticklish and strangely pleasant, yet not at all unwelcome, spread through the depths of her chest.
And true to his words... perhaps compounded by his genuine exhaustion, within moments she could hear regular, even breathing rising from her lap.
...She hadn't expected him to fall asleep quite so quickly, and the oddly soothing, bashful feeling that came with that thought tugged at her heart.
Being careful not to wake him, Katia quietly activated the Netherworld of Salvation.
When the ghost soldiers materialized before her, she issued her instructions.
"Twenty minutes is fine. Any longer and the others will start to notice. But during that time—no one is to come anywhere near us. Absolutely no one."
The ghost soldiers dispersed with a somewhat amused air, their reactions tinged with just a hint of exasperation at her unmistakably personal tone.
A private moment, truly just for the two of them. After savoring it for a few minutes, Katia fell into contemplation.
(...The Church's objective. I think I'm starting to understand.)
The nagging sense of wrongness she'd felt since the Northern Rebellion—or rather, since Ermes and the others had joined forces—finally began to dissolve. And in the same moment, she understood.
The Church's top priority in this entire campaign was crushing Ermes.
Because... if it were only the people of Harvist territory, the Church and the Northern Alliance could deal with them however they pleased. The fact that they were taking this roundabout approach—feeding in just enough force to barely keep the defenders on the ropes, one wave at a time—was proof enough of that.
The only reason they weren't simply overwhelming them was to crush Ermes.
By pushing the soldiers of Harvist territory to their limits and forcing them to take on the burden of defense, they kept Ermes perpetually busy. Simultaneously stoking the soldiers' anxiety, they squeezed him from both inside and outside, wearing him down completely.
And when he finally reached his breaking point—that was when they would deliver the killing blow.
She shuddered. This was an entirely different kind of countermeasure against Ermes from anything she had seen before—utterly ruthless.
At the same time, she finally grasped with full clarity what it meant when a truly massive organization recognized Ermes as a genuine threat.
"...So that's why Father refused to make Ermes's magic public. I finally understand completely."
She murmured this to herself, then solidified her conviction.
Liliana's intuition had been right. This method—this strategy—was precisely what had driven Rose away. What had made it possible to drive her away.
And those fangs, for whatever reason, were now aimed at Ermes.
"As if I'll let that happen."
Quietly, with undisguised hostility, she swore her oath.
She would be right here beside him, ensuring he never drifted away.
...But even so. If the worst came to the worst, and he flew off somewhere she couldn't follow—if the time came when he wished to leave—
"Even then... I will. I alone will absolutely—follow you."
As a duke's daughter, she probably shouldn't say such things.
But her true feelings, in a place where no one could hear, she whispered aloud.
Protectively, she gently stroked his head. She would continue guarding this small measure of peace, however fleeting, for as long as she could.