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Chapter 84
“Why isn’t there a reply?”
The child rested her chin on her hand, exhausted from waiting, though her gaze still remained fixed out the window.
“It’s already been two hours.”
After checking the time, Lumi hesitated for a moment before speaking again.
“There must be something wrong.”
Something wrong at the fortress?
What kind of problem could be serious enough that they couldn’t send back a response?
Inside were Imperial soldiers armed in full armor—and Heresden himself was there to guard them.
Someone as cautious as Heresden would surely have checked thoroughly, even if they were Imperial soldiers, to make sure no one was infected.
Just as he had with me, and with the people of the Reton territory.
“Maybe it’s just taking a while? Maybe they’re discussing something…”
Idorian had already suggested the solution, and the fortress was stocked with enough supplies to feed the Imperial army for a while.
There was no reason for hesitation or rejection.
Even though I knew it didn’t make sense that writing a reply would take two hours, I said it anyway.
Because I didn’t want to face the possibility that something had gone wrong at the fortress.
Just imagining that reality made my chest tighten.
“Sigh…”
But before anyone else could speak, I was forced to accept it on my own.
Something had happened—something that made it impossible for them to reply.
“Do you think Sister Lilia and Duke Heresden are in danger?”
Uben asked, his anxiety and worry laid bare in his voice.
I shifted my gaze from the child to the fortress in the distance.
“It’s probably not zombies. The Duke would’ve checked thoroughly.”
“…Yeah.”
Idorian agreed curtly.
“Then could it be internal discord?”
Those stationed in the fortress were the best of the Imperial military—chosen for both skill and loyalty.
Could they really have fallen to infighting?
And above all… this wasn’t in the novel.
In the novel, the protagonists who had endured inside the fortress eventually joined forces with the Imperial army and safely returned to the capital.
The journey back was so uneventful that nothing about it stood out.
Yes, many things had already changed from the original story, but knowing the original made it hard not to judge everything through its lens.
Which only made the current situation feel more and more wrong.
“I don’t know.”
Idorian shook his head, seemingly giving up on guessing what had happened there.
“But what matters is this—we’ve lost our connection. For all we know, they might not have even seen our message.”
He paused, then continued.
“And if the smoke from the fortress stopped because of that problem…”
Not long before the carrier pigeon reached the yard, the smoke signals from the fortress had suddenly stopped.
Had that not been a signal to us, but the result of some internal issue?
The more we thought about it, the more that answer made sense.
“I think so too. Something must have happened, and they never got to read our reply.”
Lumi reached the same conclusion.
“If they sent a message by pigeon, there’d be no reason to stop the smoke signals.”
Idorian nodded.
“Which means they might go ahead with the original plan—returning to the capital without waiting for us.”
He was worried that we would miss our chance to join them.
He seemed certain the Imperial army would leave for the capital, despite not knowing what had happened inside the fortress.
“But if internal discord really broke out, as Penelope said, would they still go back?”
“I agree with Lumi.”
Discord meant the collapse of military order.
“If the issue lies within the Imperial army itself, then it’s rebellion against the Emperor’s command.”
Such rebellion likely stemmed from something fundamental.
Perhaps they no longer had the courage to retrace the deadly path they’d come,
or perhaps they questioned why they were being asked to risk their lives at all.
If they couldn’t even send a reply, people must have panicked.
If the chaos was beyond simple control…
“They might have succeeded in a rebellion.”
If that was the case, wouldn’t meeting the Imperial army be dangerous?
“Of course, Heresden…”
I swallowed the rest of my words before I praised the Duke again.
Trusting too blindly in the protagonists of this world was not something I wanted to reveal openly.
“No. I can’t say what’s happening, but the Imperial army would never defy the Emperor.”
After remaining quiet for a long while, Idorian finally spoke.
He must have agonized over whether he should even speak this aloud.
His tone was firm—he truly believed what he was saying.
“Why?”
“I trained with them. And trained them.”
I nodded, waiting for more.
“I know who they are.”
But in the end, the basis for his certainty was nothing more than trust.
Just like how I trusted Idorian and Heresden simply because they were the male leads of the novel.
“You might find it hard to believe, but I know them. They take pride in being Imperial soldiers—and in serving the Emperor.”
Idorian was convinced—they would return to the capital.
“So nothing changes. We still need to join them.”
He wore that familiar stubborn expression.
“We can’t reach the capital safely on our own.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Without the Imperial army’s protection, getting the four of us safely to the capital was nearly impossible.
Especially now, when both Lumi and Idorian were injured.
And only by meeting the Imperial army could we find out what had happened at the fortress—and why they couldn’t respond.
“So I’ll go ahead first. You wait here until I return.”
Idorian strapped on his sword as he spoke.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
He seemed ready to leave right that moment.
“No, Your Highness—”
“You’re going now?”
Lumi and I rushed to stop him.
“We don’t have time to waste.”
“…But you’re going alone?”
Uben, who had been silently listening, finally asked.
“Isn’t that dangerous…?”
I nodded.
Even if the novel said there would be no betrayal, even if Idorian believed in them—
If a rebellion had broken out, going alone was risky.
But even if one of us followed him, none of us were in any condition to help.
“…Should I go with you?”
I offered, thinking two were safer than one, but Idorian shook his head without hesitation.
“You stay here and wait.”
“But Idorian—at least assess the situation and—”
“Fine. If something feels wrong, I’ll come back.”
He slung the sword scabbard over his shoulder—likely because fastening it on his back would strain his injured arm.
“Whatever happens, I’ll return. So wait here safely.”
Uben suddenly bolted toward the hearth, lifting the lid off the pot.
“Take this with you. I’ll pack some right now.”
Idorian peeked inside the pot and shook his head.
“I’ll be back before the food runs out.”
He locked eyes with me as he said it.
He meant we shouldn’t leave to hunt for more supplies.
Before we could stop him again, Idorian left the house.
It took only a few minutes before his figure disappeared beyond the window.
Not long after, someone knocked on the door.
For an instant, I thought it was Idorian returning—but by the time we realized it wasn’t him, he was already too far gone.
When we opened the door, there were two large water jugs filled to the brim, and a basket full of extra crops sitting right outside.
