With the setting sun staining Gangaruga Fortress in crimson, I turned my back and descended the hill.
Below, wounded soldiers lay scattered across the battlefield. Around them, healers—those blessed with the miraculous power to mend injuries—worked tirelessly to treat the injured.
I walked among the wounded, speaking to them one by one. The soldiers brightened at my words.
As the recognized Saint of the Lionnel Kingdom’s state religion, the Church of Salvation, I was deeply beloved by the people and the military. Thus, the soldiers were always glad to hear from me. Though I had mixed feelings about manipulating hearts, fulfilling people’s hopes was part of an idol’s duty.
Suppressing my emotions, I continued speaking to the soldiers. Most injuries were light, with few critical casualties—but this was no cause for celebration. For those who had died, it was their one and only life. And if the severely wounded took a turn for the worse, the death toll could rise. I needed an accurate count.
As I finished speaking with the soldiers and moved through the camp, a savory aroma filled the air. Following the scent, I saw soldiers cooking over a large pot.
With the battle over, the troops had begun preparing their meal. Among them were familiar faces—Ben of the Rome Squad, his protruding belly wrapped in an apron, and the towering, bald Bray, carrying a large sack in his left arm.
Ben stood by the pot, stirring its contents with a utensil. Bray set down the sack and pulled out its contents—likely ingredients, as he began peeling carrots.
“Ben, Bray. Is dinner ready?”
“Ah, this is for Lady Romelia.”
When I called out to the two of them, Ben bowed deeply to me, while Bray gave a nod as he peeled vegetables.
“As always, you’ve got quite the skill.”
I inhaled deeply in front of the large pot, savoring the aroma.
Meals on the battlefield weren’t something one could expect much from, but the scent of spices and herbs alone told me this would be delicious.
Ben was something of a gourmand—or perhaps just a glutton—who spent most of his wages on good food. And because he refused to settle for anything less even during marches, he had taken up cooking.
“We found some excellent meat. If you’d like, Lady Romelia, I’ve saved a portion for you.”
“Really? Then I’ll gladly take you up on that.”
I smiled and nodded. Ben’s cooking was renowned for its taste and popular among the soldiers. Tonight’s dinner seemed promising.
“Ah, Lady Romelia! Good work today!”
When I turned at the voice, I saw Zeze’s cheerful face. Standing beside him was the black-haired Zini. The two members of Rome Squad carried deep plates and spoons, apparently waiting for Ben’s cooking to be ready.
“Zeze, Zini. You’ve worked hard today.”
“N-Not at all, Rome—”
“Enemies like that? Nothing to worry about! Just watch—tomorrow, I’ll—”
“Hey! Zeze, don’t interrupt when someone’s talking!”
“You’re the one interrupting, Zini!”
“Honestly, you always—ugh, whatever. More importantly, Lady Romelia, you’ve worked hard today too. This guy’s rambling is pointless, so feel free to ignore him.”
Zini pointed at Zeze with an exasperated look.
“Ah, that’s harsh! It’s not pointless at all, Lady Romelia! Tomorrow, I’ll—well— boom! Fight like crazy and bang! Take down the enemy! Just you wait!”
“See? Total waste of time.”
Zini sighed at Zeze’s utterly meaningless words.
Though devoid of substance, Zeze’s chatter lightened the mood. On the battlefield, keeping soldiers’ spirits high was crucial—it could even sway the tide of battle.
“Well then, everyone, rest well tonight. You’ve earned it.”
With a laugh, I bid farewell to Ben, Bray, Zeze, and Zini and continued walking through the camp.
Soon, an unusually massive tent came into view—large enough to fit an entire small house, custom-made for this expedition.
We had only arrived at the Diras Wasteland yesterday, and construction of the encampment had just begun. Yet this enormous tent was already surrounded by fences, guarded by soldiers.
At the entrance, half-naked men carried out stones and dirt. They were laborers brought along as engineers for construction work.
As I approached, soldiers monitored the workers’ comings and goings. Among them were two familiar faces—Glen, with his short black hair, and Hans, whose narrow eyes drooped slightly. Members of Rome Squad.
“Glen, Hans. How’s the work progressing?”
When I asked for an update, Hans answered while eyeing the massive tent.
“Ah, Lady Romelia. As you can see, the construction of the main work tent is complete.”
“We’ve also verified every worker entering and exiting. No chance of spies slipping in,”
Glen added.
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Inside this tent, the strategy I had devised was being carried out. To prevent foreign eyes from learning of our plans, we had gone so far as to erect the tent to block visibility, conducting all operations within.
While I was satisfied with Glen and Hans’ work, Glen himself seemed somewhat displeased.
“Glen. Is this assignment boring you?”
“No, Lady Romelia. Not at all—”
Glen denied it, but his face clearly said otherwise.
“Lady Romelia, Glen was hoping to make a name for himself while Al and Ray weren’t around.”
“Hans! I said I don’t have any complaints!”
Glen was spirited and ranked among Rome Squad’s strongest. Yet he still fell just short of Al and Ray, which frustrated him. Since the two weren’t part of this expedition, he had likely seen this as his chance to outshine them. However, in today’s battle, the cavalry under Glen and Hans had been held in reserve. Now, they were assigned to guard duty. Truly, no opportunities for glory.
“I understand my role, Lady Romelia.”
Glen nodded.
During the prior war council, I had explained my strategy to them. Glen surely grasped the tactics, but the fervor of battle must have stirred his blood. Such was a soldier’s nature.
“Glen, it’s true that rear-guard reserves and camp security offer few chances for distinction. But unforeseen events can arise at any moment. This time, I didn’t bring Al or Ray. That’s why I want soldiers like you two close at hand—to fill their roles.”
As I spoke, Glen straightened his expression and nodded. Yet if you looked closely, the corners of his mouth twitched slightly, as if pleased. The phrase “to fill their roles” must have struck a chord with him.
“Will you do this for me, Glen?”
“Of course! If it’s your order, Lady Romelia!”
Chest puffed out, Glen gave his answer.
He was bold, occasionally cheeky, but moments like these made him endearing.
“Then I’ll leave it to you.”
Entrusting the motivated Glen with the task, I stepped inside the massive tent.
Within, a giant pit had been dug. Wooden scaffolding spanned the opening, and a pulley system hauled up buckets of earth. A spiraling slope ran along the pit’s inner wall, where workers carried out large stones.
Scanning the site, I spotted a gray-haired man giving instructions while holding a blueprint.
“Foreman Ganze.”
I approached the gray-haired man.
Ganze was a contractor who specialized in ports, roads, and river embankments. For this operation, I had hired him temporarily, bringing him and his crew along as engineers.
“Oh, if it isn’t the young lady. Or should I say Saint Romelia?”
“Please, don’t. Honestly, I still haven’t gotten used to being called a saint.”
I shook my head at Ganze’s half-grin.
Two years ago, to suppress General Zaria’s rebellion, I had been recognized as a saint by the Church of Salvation. Yet even now, the title felt unnatural.
“The usual way is fine. After all, I still call you Foreman.”
“Is that so? Then I’ll stick with young lady.”
At my casual words, Ganze chuckled.
We had known each other since he built a port for me in the Cashew region. Formalities would feel awkward now.
“So, Foreman Ganze. How’s the soil?”
I eyed the excavated pit as I asked.
To capture Gangaruga Fortress, I had brought a strategy that hinged on Ganze’s expertise—and the land itself.
“We hit a layer of sticky clay not far down. With this, your plan should work.”
Ganze knelt, grabbing a handful of soil. It did indeed cling together.
This was excellent news. Unsuitable terrain had been a risk, but one hurdle was cleared.
“The work is progressing faster than I expected.”
I peered into the pit. It was large, several men deep.
They had only started digging yesterday. To have come this far in a single day was astonishing.
“Aye. I handpicked workers experienced in wells and embankments. They know their craft.”
Ganze watched the laborers hauling dirt and stone. Following his gaze, I locked eyes with a few shirtless workers. When I nodded politely, they blushed and bowed.
“Also, young lady, it’s because of what you said yesterday.”
“Me? What did I say?”
Prompted, I recalled yesterday’s events.
Freshly arrived, I had been inspecting the area.
“When you surveyed the site, you told the boys, ‘My, aren’t you all so strong and muscular?’ The idiots took it to heart. Look at ‘em now—still shirtless, flexing their muscles.”
Ganze shot the workers a scornful glance.
True enough, most were bare-chested, occasionally sneaking glances my way. I had assumed they were self-conscious about being watched, but apparently, their concerns lay elsewhere.
“Ah… Did I mess up?”
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