“Oh my, Your Excellency... How could you say such cruel things?”
As if ignoring the Baron’s theatrical wailing, Mia took Chloe’s arm and left the room. Throughout the conversation, she had been dedicated to looking as miserable as possible, exactly as Mia had requested.
Once they were completely out of the Baron’s sight, Chloe finally seemed to relax, the tension draining from her shoulders. A pair of eyes brimming with gratitude and admiration fixed on Mia.
“Thank you so much for helping me escape my father. As promised, if there’s anything I can do to repay your kindness, please let me know.”
Mia responded with a sly smile to her earnest declaration. Of course, she already had plans for Chloe’s predetermined role at her side, but there was no need to mention that yet.
The deputy commander of the Holy Legion truly lacked tact. While one might overlook a soldier’s rough edges in peacetime, the current situation demanded better.
“If we’re disguising ourselves as merchants, shouldn’t we procure proper goods? Empty carriages would only invite suspicion,” Mia said, arms crossed as she stared down Renard.
Renard snorted. “Where would we find the time for that? We need to move quickly.”
“I understand military life leaves one ignorant of worldly affairs,” Mia retorted sarcastically, stepping closer. “But with such a half-hearted disguise, you’ll never pass as merchants for long.”
Despite her petite stature, the arrogance of a highborn noble radiated from her, overwhelming her opponent.
“Your Excellency should fix that habit of underestimating others. I too have a father who holds influence in upper circles. I know the ways of the world as well as you do.”
“Quite the sharp tongue for someone crying injustice, Renard,” Mia clicked her tongue. “If you truly thought my opinion worthless, you wouldn’t have invoked my father’s name. Seems you’ve forgotten what’s best for the army.”
“Ah, so now I’m neglecting my duties?” Renard shot back.
“At least I know your duty isn’t to oppose me on such matters,” Mia replied calmly, unfazed by his agitation. “Your primary obligation is to ensure the army functions smoothly—a task you’re currently failing, by the sound of it.”
“You’d know better than anyone whether you’re fulfilling your role properly.”
Renard fell silent.
“Just remember this,” Mia added. “I’d planned to entrust you with command of the troops remaining in Glen, valuing your efforts. But given your attitude, I doubt you’d appreciate the gesture.”
“Of course!” Renard exploded. “Call it a transfer of command all you like—being marooned in some backwater village during critical intelligence gathering is a demotion!”
At that moment, the Legion Commander’s sharp gaze swept over them from across the field.
“What’s going on here?”
Etienne approached, his eyes locking onto Renard with uncanny timing, as if he’d been awaiting this moment.
“Nothing serious,” Mia said smoothly. “We were finalizing departure preparations.”
“Then why the raised voices?” Etienne’s attention remained fixed on Renard, who bit his lip and looked away.
“Deputy Commander Renard believes no special preparations are needed for our merchant disguise,” Mia explained.
Etienne nodded. “Did you truly say that, Renard? If so, I’m disappointed.”
“I never said no preparations!” Renard protested. “But given the time constraints—”
Etienne cut him off with a wave. “Didn’t we learn that efficiency shouldn’t compromise essentials?” He clicked his tongue. “Frankly, I question if you graduated officer training at all.”
After a weighted pause, he continued: “Respect Blanchard’s input fully this time. She’s right.”
Renard’s jaw tightened. “Understood, Commander.”
Though compliant outwardly, fear churned beneath—the strange light haunting Etrallon and the troops’ mounting dread played to his advantage. He’d stoke their anxieties further to push his agenda.
“Even a goddess-blessed hero needs to prove themselves,” he sneered, the words dripping with false concern. “Isn’t this trust misplaced?”
Mia recognized the tactic. While their lover’s charade served a purpose, public acknowledgment was another matter entirely. She held her tongue, watching Etienne.
“Blanchard’s capabilities have been verified by me personally,” Etienne declared.
“Without any proof?” Renard challenged.
“Are you questioning your commander’s judgment?”
“N-Not at all.”
“Then I’ll remind you,” Etienne continued, “fraternization regulations exist for a reason. Should personal feelings influence command decisions?”
Whispers erupted among the soldiers—“Fraternization?” Though never confirmed, many nodded at Renard’s insinuation. Even loyal troops had noticed Etienne’s excessive attention toward Mia.
“Regardless of personal matters,” Etienne’s voice cut through the murmurs, “Blanchard’s skills benefit the army—an objective assessment. Confirm her abilities yourselves before judging.”
The bold admission left Renard speechless.
“...You were supposed to let me make the first move,” Mia thought wryly, staying silent as planned. This bolstered her position, though she’d never simply acquiesce to Renard’s schemes.
“Since time is urgent,” Etienne pressed, “where exactly will you procure the empty carriages and horses?”
Renard’s face lit up at the implied challenge. “Just grant me a little time!”
Mia watched his retreating back with disdain. A man had been observing everything from behind her. She turned to him only after Renard departed.
“See?”
“Your Excellency, please drop the formalities.”
“You’ll hear them often—best get used to it.”
“I’m just a soldier. I don’t deserve—”
“Enough. You’ve heard Etienne’s plans?”
“The difficulties advancing on Raven while disguised?”
“Precisely. Which is why you’ll command the troops remaining here.”
“Me? Why?”
“I see potential. You’ll train them systematically—not just babysit. Understood?”
The man—more warrior than leader—bowed resignedly. “Yes.”
Mia smiled. “Good. I trust you, Fabre.”
“What madness is this? Leaving personnel behind?”
“The Commander and Deputy abandoning post together—absurd!”
In the barracks, officers crowded around Mia and Etienne, faces etched with doubt.
“Shouldn’t command stay intact for emergencies?”
Etienne’s calm voice cut through the clamor: “Questioning my leadership? Even if trouble arises, handling it from that distance would be trivial.”
