"—Return two days later?"
Inside the inn, Subaru looked at Emilia in confusion. Everything had been prepared for their departure, yet she had suddenly postponed their return.
"Yes." Emilia still held the letter that Lillian had sent to her through a messenger, and she did not hide it. "Lillian invited me to speak with him the day after tomorrow. I've decided to talk with him before returning."
"Ah… didn't you already talk once before?"
"Perhaps he still has something he wants to say," Emilia replied. "It's only two days anyway, so it doesn't matter." Noticing Subaru's reluctant expression, she added, "If you don't want to stay any longer, you can return first. I'll follow later on my own—"
"No way! I'm definitely staying with you!" Subaru shook his head immediately, refusing to let her finish. "I can't just go back alone. After the Royal Selection meeting, Roswaal disappeared without a trace. He's supposed to be protecting you, isn't he? And he didn't even speak up for you at the meeting… Anyway, it's too dangerous for you to remain in the capital by yourself. I'm staying to protect you!"
"Who said my daughter is alone?" Puck suddenly appeared on Emilia's shoulder, crossing his tiny arms. "I'll protect my daughter properly."
"Hah, you nine-to-five employee still have the nerve to say that!"
"Even so, I'm more reliable than a fool like you."
Watching Puck and Subaru begin bickering, Emilia smiled, yet her thoughts wandered to what Lillian might wish to discuss with her. She found herself genuinely looking forward to it. After all, she had carefully considered the advice he had given her during their last meeting, and she now felt his words made sense. Even if one's ideals came first, they had to be accompanied by tangible benefits—otherwise, it would be difficult for others to believe in one's sincerity.
She had several questions she wished to ask him as well. As she gazed at the darkening sky outside the window, she wondered where Lillian might be at that moment. Like her, he had been staying at an inn—though perhaps he was living at Priscilla's residence instead. Had he truly not chosen to support Priscilla?
---
Under the same twilight sky, the window of Lillian's rented room suddenly opened from the outside. A nimble figure leapt inside—Elsa landed on the floor with a light click, glancing around. The room was silent, and no one was present.
"Not back yet?"
She casually flipped through the stacks of books piled high on the desk. Most of them were ones she had previously delivered, and dozens bore detailed notes, clearly showing that Lillian had studied them carefully rather than simply piling them up for show.
"Magic…"
Elsa examined the markings in the books. She did not believe Lillian was a mage—she had never seen him use magic. From his usual appearance, he looked nothing more than an ordinary mercenary. Yet an ordinary person could never have brought her out of that alley back then, nor defeated that disgusting man.
The source of that extraordinary power was of no concern to her—just as Lillian never asked about her organization or her past, she had no interest in his history either. What mattered was only the present moment.
Sitting on the wooden chair by the desk, she picked up a book at random and waited. The sky darkened completely, yet there was no movement at the door. Stretching and letting out a yawn, she murmured, "So sleepy…"
She retrieved an envelope from her bosom and tucked it into the magic book she was reading. Having spent the night secretly gathering intelligence on the Witch Cult from her organization, she thought it might come in handy for him.
Rising to leave, her steps faltered. She changed direction, winding through the corridor into another room—Lillian's bedroom.
Pushing the door open, she saw a clean, simple room: a bed, a wardrobe, and a small flower pot on the windowsill—nothing more. Lillian only slept here; he never spent time in the room otherwise, so no extra furniture was necessary.
She walked in slowly, first approaching the flower pot by the window. She lifted her long hair, bent slightly, and inhaled its faint fragrance. Pleasant. Straightening up, she moved to the wardrobe and opened it. Inside were only two sets of gray mercenary outfits—plain but clean.
She picked up one of the tops, her eyes gleaming. She remembered that when they first met, he had thrown her this very type of shirt… perhaps not the exact one, but the style was identical.
Feeling drowsy, she walked to the tidy bed and lay down. Sensitive as she was, she immediately noticed something beneath the pillow. Turning it over, she found a small pendant. It reminded her of the first time they had met, when he wore it—but not the second time… someone must have given it to him.
She didn't pick it up. Glancing at it once, she pressed it back under the pillow, lay down properly, covered herself with the shirt, and slowly began to rest.
From a very young age, she had never been able to sleep soundly. Deep sleep did not exist for people like her; no one knew if someone might try to sever your head while you slumbered. Not just enemies—even former comrades could suddenly turn against you with a knife.
Her organization operated like this. Every individual was independent, and being assigned a "kill a comrade" task was not unusual.
Yet at this moment, lying on this hard, almost plank-like bed—devoid of any comfort—she felt a rare sense of security. For the first time in a long while, she imagined she could sleep peacefully… though only in thought; she did not dare.
Her chest rose and fell steadily. After an unknown amount of time, she suddenly opened her eyes. The rustling sound outside the window made her sit up immediately. Looking down, she saw a squad of uniformly dressed knights marching in formation toward the distance… Her eyes narrowed; sleepiness vanished.
---
"Thrum… thrum…"
The convoy moved across the vast plains in a triangular formation. Three forces in total: besides the troops led by Crusch and Priscilla, Anastasia's side was commanded by Ricardo, leader of the Iron Fang Mercenary Corps.
They traveled under the cover of night, neither fast nor slow. Since they had moved earlier than planned, Lillian didn't know when the White Whale would appear. He didn't expect it to be waiting under a tree or anything—it could show up at any moment, just like before. Everyone stayed alert.
No matter what, such a large group alone was a major target. If the White Whale appeared, it would naturally notice and attack. If it didn't… well, then there was nothing to worry about.
This expedition carried not only magical instruments but also supplies sufficient for three days. If the White Whale didn't show in that time, it didn't matter—they could deal with the delay later.
"—halt!"
Crusch's commanding voice rang out clearly, and everyone obeyed, stopping in their tracks. She raised her head and called out, "Rest for a moment!"
After more than three hours of continuous marching, the troops were indeed tired. Everyone dismounted and stretched. Lillian did the same, moving his arms. Priscilla glanced at him and asked,
"The White Whale?"
Lillian looked at her. "Are you eager to see it so much?"
"Isn't that why we're out at this hour?"
Priscilla frowned, clearly displeased with traveling at night.
Lillian considered her point. Her Blessing of the Sun likely worked better during the day. Looking up at the full moon high in the sky, he reasoned that moonlight was merely sunlight reflected, so her blessing would still function—just probably not as effectively as under the sun.
"Priscilla is right. Our target is the White Whale," said Crusch, fully armored, approaching them. "Our troops are at peak morale. Naturally, we want to engage it as soon as possible."
"Peak morale…"
Lillian glanced at her. Unlike Crusch, he could see the fear and tension in many of the soldiers despite their elite status.
"What? Are you scared?"
"Me?" Lillian smiled. Before he could speak, someone answered for him.
"I don't think he is," said Wilhelm, the Sword Demon, casually wiping his blade. "I can sense him brushing close to death several times. Such a person wouldn't easily fear."
"I see." Crusch nodded, slightly surprised as she examined Lillian's expression. "I didn't expect someone so young to have faced death multiple times. My apologies."
"Hmph, really?" Priscilla seemed skeptical. "Do you believe everything that old man says?"
"Wilhelm is a battle-hardened veteran. He wouldn't be wrong about this."
"Exactly," Ricardo added. Towering above normal humans, the Iron Fang leader's wolf-like face grinned. "Lillian may look small and weak, but the bloody aura on him isn't any weaker than those I've seen before… hahaha."
Unlike Crusch, both Wilhelm and Ricardo had actual battlefield experience. They could sense such things more accurately. Compared to them, Lillian may never have fought in a large-scale war, but he had certainly taken many lives…
"I can't tell at all," Priscilla pouted. Al beside her seemed thoughtful, listening to their conversation.
After a brief silence, Lillian looked around at everyone, then back at the main force behind. Following his advice, this expedition was small: fewer than sixty knights and about a hundred people in total including mages. In contrast to past campaigns involving thousands, this was a drastic reduction—but quality over quantity prevented needless casualties.
As long as these soldiers could fight at their full potential, it would be enough.
Suddenly, Crusch's expression darkened; the moonlight on her face was blocked.
Lillian looked up—and a massive fish swam across the center of the moon.