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"Then, you two will lead a unit on a reconnaissance mission. Destination: Camentria. Just get a rough idea of the base's condition and the enemy numbers—nothing more."

"Understood."

"By my life, I’ll see this mission through."

"Life’s on the line, so you’d better come back. It’s just reconnaissance, after all."

The pilot, rigid with tension from Ines’s direct order, flushed red at those words.

Three weeks since the capture of Crosslue. The base’s defenses were finally coming together, and it was time to start planning the next assault.

My own machine, and Batis’s and the others’, had all been repaired—ready to go at a moment’s notice.

But this time, no rush. The enemy’s patrols were too tight. We couldn’t sneak a unit inside Camentria like we did last time.

So we decided to send out a scouting-focused unit first.

The two chosen were from the squad originally stationed around this base.

If they knew the terrain well and could slip unseen through tricky spots, scouting would be easier.

“You’ll each get two Abnomyle units. Use them for surveillance and keeping an eye on the perimeter.”

“Thank you.”

“Start the operation whenever your preparations are ready. I’ll leave the finer details of unit composition to you—just submit a list of required supplies later. That’s all from me. Any questions?”

Ines finished her briefing and turned to the two.

One remained rigid with nerves. The other, a pilot in his late forties, rubbed his chin for a moment, then looked up.

“What if we run into an enemy unit during reconnaissance? Should we avoid fighting if we can?”

“Right. If possible, avoid it. We don’t want them guessing we’re planning an offensive—or preparing for one. But if you can’t hide, fight hard. Survive at all costs. Without your reports, reclaiming Camentria is impossible.”

“Understood.”

Ines answered the question, glanced once more at the two, confirmed no further questions, and dismissed them.

After the pair left the room, I turned to the princess.

“Why wasn’t it us doing the reconnaissance?”

“True, our knight would’ve surely succeeded.”

She smiled as she said it.

“Still, we can’t rely on him all the time. If we don’t raise the skill of the other squads, even if we reclaim it, we’ll lose it again. And it’ll be the people living in the base and the surrounding villages who suffer.”

“Ah… I see.”

“That’s why I want Eld to act only when all other plans have failed. The front lines need many knights and soldiers. They must grow strong, one by one. We can’t protect the kingdom from the empire’s threat unless every single one of them is strong. I don’t want them thinking they can’t hold the line without Eld. I want them to regain their confidence—to believe they took it back with their own strength. After all, they’re the elite we chose ourselves.”

Yes. The Armunale pilots—they’re all elite, each one forged in the brutal competition of the academy.

And I’m the princess’s guard—not assigned to this base. When she returns to the capital, I’ll go with her. If they don’t gain enough strength and confidence to hold this place, we’ll just lose it all again. Then what’s the point of the princess stepping forward in the first place?

“So we’re trusting them. Now, let’s get the squad formations ready—just in case they come back.”

“Indeed.”

I straightened up with Ines, our eyes dropping back to the papers spread across the table.

“Recon unit—deploy.”

At the command, the base gates swung open. Two Armunales, four Abnomyules, and a few wagons with scouts shot out into the open.

Watching them go, I turned toward the hangar where my own machine waited.

No one was in the hangar. Only the light pouring through the windows illuminated my machine.

“Hmm, still magnificent.”

I looked up at the machine and gave a slow nod.

Scratches were visible, but the mud had been scrubbed off clean, and the armor gleamed bright.

The artificial arm on my left—once a source of unease—now felt like it belonged, like the machine wouldn’t be mine without it.

“Oh? Captain. Back again?”

Lost in thought, staring up at my machine, a voice called from above.

I looked up. From the catwalk, Karine was peering down at me.

“Wait—Karine, what are you doing here?”

She should’ve been done with maintenance already.

I’m just checking and fixing the physics processor—sensors, you know. Had a spare moment, so I was thinking about that system. Can’t decide where to add space or what to cut without seeing the real thing, not really.

Ah, that one. How’s it feel?

Hearing “that system” made me remember the new spell I’d asked Karine to look into.

Looks like she’s been working on how to write it into the Armunale during her free time.

Honestly, it’s tough. No matter how hard we try, this machine alone can’t pull off a spell on the scale the captain wants. We could scale it down, aim it at a single point—possible, but not easy…

Even then, the Hyimagia Liquid’s gonna be a tight squeeze.

Yeah. Might burn through the reserve tank in one go, if we’re not careful.

Can’t keep fighting for long—that’s rough.

Worse, if we burn it all, the generator’s likely to just drop dead. That’d make us a perfect target on the battlefield.

“Trying to inscribe the whole thing onto the physical processor… too big for what we’ve got now. Maybe we should just fill the whole thing with artificial gojus? Just dump it all in?”

“Sounds like it’ll be a lot of work for you, Karine.”

“Then I’ll just ask the host to come get me again. Looks like Captain wasn’t completely against it, either.”

“Haha, then when that happens, Karine, you’ll have to explain it to Ange.”

I’d promised Karine I’d take her to that host club during her house arrest in the capital. Didn’t expect it to be… kind of fun, actually.

I figured it was weird for a guy to go to a host club, so I’d just handed over the money at first—but somehow I got dragged off by Karine, ended up seated at the same table as her, and suddenly I was being fawned over by the guys too—

Ah, right. They’re good with women, sure, but they’re surprisingly good at flattering men too.

They jabbed right at my weak spots with just the right words. All thanks to that, I ended up blowing a fortune.

Well, that part wasn’t so bad. I spent the money—I made the choice, I paid the price.

The problem came after.

Back in the dorm, Ange was waiting with teary eyes.

And then she said it: “Eld… were you gay all along?”

No—man, that hit me like a brick. I never thought my own girlfriend would suspect me of being gay.

It took me all day to talk her down, but she’d apparently heard rumors about me going to the host club with Karine, and somehow she’d decided I’d suddenly developed a thing for guys.

So, next time I’m going, I’d better get Karine to talk me through it first—otherwise she’ll just jump to the wrong conclusion again.

I’m married now, after all. If there’s some divorce scandal, I couldn’t look anyone in the eye. I like Ange, too. Can’t have her worrying about me like that.

“I know, I know. That whole thing was kind of fun, though.”

“Please, no more.”

Karine let out a soft chuckle, then her expression turned serious.

“Anyway, back to the point—if you’re planning to use a magic like that, you’d really need to fill up the Artifigoj with physical calculators—senseboards—and add an external tank. No way around it. I’ll think up something small for now. Just hold out, okay?”

“I understand. How powerful would a small one be, roughly?”

Well, even so, the magic’s strongest when it’s mounted on a body. Could punch right through a base gate with ease—might even go clean through and cause damage inside. Firing point’s three meters ahead of the craft, range’s about a kilometer, depending on angle.”

“Understood.”

A kilometer’s range. Might even be shorter than Perfilizzi’s. This one’s gonna be tricky to use right.

“For now, no need to build the real thing—just lay out the structure, please.”

“Sure sure, leave it to me. I’ll work hard for the host. Oh, speaking of working hard—Ritz, you know?”

“What about Ritz?”

“Lately, he’s been looking kind of down sometimes. Anything going on? I always thought his strength was knowing when to cut back.”

And with that, Caline told me about Ritz’s recent behavior.

So, I heard he showed up that morning looking like he’d been dragged through a hedge—dark circles under his eyes, then spent the whole afternoon tinkering with the craft before vanishing somewhere by dusk.

Hearing that, something clicked.

“Probably lost a bet,” I said.

“A bet?”

“Yeah. When he first got here, I caught him playing hidden poker in the tent. We added labor as a penalty for losing. Had a shortage of hands, so him volunteering to give up his leave was a real help.”

“Commander… you’re kind of a scoundrel, aren’t you?”

“Well, it’s just the penalty for getting caught. If they don’t find you, it’s fine.”

“True enough.”

Caline nodded, not even blinking, accepting my explanation like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“Then I’ll just stay here a bit longer, staring down this kid.”

“Understood. I’ll check on the other hangar.”

“Go on, then.”

I wave back at Carine as I leave the hangar.

Clouds are thick in the east. Might stay overcast for a while, maybe.

And three days later, the reconnaissance unit comes back—worn to pieces.

No Armunale among them. Not a single Abnomule. Just soldiers with their heads down, and horses that drag themselves weakly into the base.

I head straight to the princess’s quarters, waiting for word.

“What happened?”

While I wait, the princess paces in her chair, biting her nails, restless as a cat.

“If none of the Armunale came back, they must’ve run into the enemy. But still… something’s off. They were good at judging when to pull back, weren’t they?”

Reading the timing of a retreat. That’s nothing new—we’ve done it before, countless times. Not likely to mess that up now. If they were fighting, there should’ve been veterans in their forties, at least.

And yet… not a single one came back. That just doesn’t add up.

“Lady Ines, a report from the reconnaissance unit.”

“Come in!”

A voice from outside the door. I wave them in right away.

The man who enters is the deputy commander of the Armunale unit. His face, so confident when they set out, now hangs heavy with despair.

“Reporting. On route to Camentria, our reconnaissance unit encountered enemy Armunale. After combat, all aircraft were destroyed. Pilots all dead. Many wounded among the other scouting units and maintenance crews as well.”

“What in the name of the sky happened!? Were they facing a full-scale enemy force!?”

If the enemy had been a full force, an attack on Kreuzru would’ve been expected. Then we’d have to prepare a counter-ambush right away.

But the words that came back left us speechless.

“Just two Armunale. One was Imperial. The other, a mercenary’s.”

“Two… just two? No, we took down a base with three ourselves. If the Empire had someone capable of that, it wouldn’t be surprising.”

The princess started to say, “You were beaten by just two?” — then remembered me.

I’ve taken down a base with two before. And this time, we’ve secured Kreuzru with three. Given that, it’s not so easy to dismiss it as impossible.

But it was because I was there.

I’m not so arrogant as to think no one else could match my skill — but if someone like that exists, they’d be a top-tier pilot, even in the Empire.

That means we’ve got someone close to an ace in the Empire’s deck.

“Tell me more. Anything you know—about that enemy.”

The princess caught the seriousness of the threat, asking for details.

“The Empire’s machine was built for magic—huge tank strapped to its back, no close-combat weapons at all. The other one belonged to a mercenary. Held axes in both hands, and had a dozen more strapped to its back. Probably the Nylon-Eater.”

“The Nylon-Eater?”

The princess tilted her head. I’d heard that name before.

“A royal-designated bounty mercenary. I heard they raised the reward just to make sure others would target him—after he’d slipped through the kingdom’s net time and again.”

Nylon-Eater. The mercenary unit that’d forced our kingdom’s Armunale to retreat across countless battlefields.

His skill’s real—apparently held in high regard even within the empire.

What stands out is his fighting style: effortlessly wielding that massive array of axes. How he throws his weapons around without a second thought… reminds me of myself.

Nylon-Eater’s interesting enough, but honestly, I’m more curious about that imperial machine.

A magic-focused unit? Never heard of anything like that in our kingdom. Probably specializes in support from behind the lines.

“Ah, so a bounty hunter and a new imperial knight, huh? We’ll need to think up a countermeasure.”

“Please… please, Captain, avenge my brother!”

“Yes, I will. Your information—I’ll make sure it fuels our next victory. Now go rest. The full report can wait until tomorrow.”

“Thank you. Excuse me.”

The deputy commander leaves the room, head bowed. Where he stood, a clear mark remains—the dried traces of tears.

The princess frowns, fingers pressing to her forehead.

“Tell me, my knight—could our own knights really be wiped out? Even if they’re mercenaries, paid for a bounty?”

“Close combat, they’d know when to pull back. Problem’s likely the Empire’s knights.”

Some spellcast machine from behind must’ve disrupted their retreat with magic. Makes sense they’d fall during that moment.

But Armunale—always shielded with a magic barrier—how could long-range spells even touch it? Not unless something’s off.

There’s gotta be more to it.

“Yesterday, I said I’d rather not bring this up. But looks like we can’t avoid it now.”

“Yes. I’ll handle those bastards. Can’t tell much without drawing steel.”

"Please."

I glare out the window, toward the direction of Camentria.

Imagining the presence of the formidable enemy there.