The right answer lay elsewhere. “Yes, yes, I hear you. Your daughter really is precious, isn’t she?”
Pabel’s expression changed immediately. His face looked so monstrous that even Orlando braced himself, but that was just how this man blushed.
Orlando had to seize this moment where Pabel briefly paused his own boasting to savor the fact that someone else had praised his daughter. Without drastic action, he would miss his chance to escape hell.
“So…” There was only one topic that could trump Pabel’s daughter: work. “Doesn’t working at night mess up your internal clock? Your body doesn’t get thrown off?”
Pabel’s expression changed from completely deranged killer back to run-of-the-mill mass murderer.
“…How many times have you asked me that? My answer will never change. It doesn’t bother me. But why are you so obsessed with that point? What are you really trying to get at?”
Orlando had expected the dramatic shift, but he still couldn’t help his eyes popping a bit.
Who are you, and where is the Pabel from a second ago? he wanted to jab, but he wasn’t interested in jumping into the grave he had just climbed out of.
“…Hmm. What do you mean, sir? That’s a strange question… I can’t have the guy who defeated me wearing himself out for some lame reason and retiring early. Once I beat you, I won’t care, but…”
When Orlando had first been assigned to this fort, he had been so full of himself that just recalling it was embarrassing. As more tough guys gathered around him out of admiration, his inflated confidence got even greater, and eventually, he found himself sparring with Pabel.
Orlando was skilled with a sword, specializing in close-quarters combat, while Pabel’s talent was archery—specializing in combat at range.
If the two of them were going to fight, the distance between them would be critical. But Pabel offered to fight at close quarters.
And then Orlando lost.
That was why Orlando respected Pabel. But at the same time, he openly stated his desire for a rematch and his intent to defeat his rival. He wanted to give Pabel the distance that would suit his specialty and win anyway.
“Oh. You want to fight me? In my prime, when there’s nothing wrong with a single part of me?”
The sharp, beastly grin on Pabel’s face stirred something in Orlando’s breast.
Yes, exactly. You understand, right? I want to fight you. I want to fight to the death. But I’m sure we can’t go that far. Still, I want to rush to the very brink, where one of us might end up dead. That’s the kind of battle I want to have.
But Orlando couldn’t say anything—because he felt the beast that had appeared before him suddenly flit away. And the next thing Pabel said only confirmed his intuition.
“But sorry. I’m sure you understand. There are only a handful of people who could beat you in hand-to-hand combat now, and I’m not one of them.”
The words Then let’s fight at range never reached Orlando’s tongue—because he knew they would be an insult to a man he respected.
Knowing Pabel’s prowess with a bow, he wasn’t confident he could evade those attacks and close the distance.
Not yet anyway.
“Anyhow, if you’re done chatting, then let’s have that report.”
“There’s no need to hurry, is there, sir? It’s not time to change shifts yet. The bell hasn’t even rung.”
There was still quite some time before the scheduled chime that signaled the guard change.
“There are still preparations to be made, things that need to be done before the bell rings. We need to be ready so that the moment it’s time, we can get straight to work.”
“There’s still time, though, right, sir? Let’s chat a little more.”
“In that case, why don’t I give the report to your aide, Commander?”
It was one of Orlando’s men who spoke.
“Good idea. You’re the best! Does that work for you, sir?”
“…Sigh. You’re really stubborn today. There must be something specific you want to talk about, right? I wish you would just come out and say that like a normal person.”
Unfortunately, that was impossible for Orlando.
Some chose to confide in people they respected, but Orlando was the type who couldn’t possibly go to someone he admired with his concerns. He wanted to be seen as a man’s man.
“I’m impressed as always, sir. Always on top of things.”
“…Sigh. So what is it? If it’s something stupid, I’ll make you regret it.”
“Right.” Orlando removed his helmet and scratched his head. The cold air on his flushed face was oddly comforting. “Actually, I’d like to undertake a journey to train myself. May I have permission to go on leave?”
He heard people around them gasp. But the face of the man in front of him didn’t move a muscle.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you’re the man I respect the most in this country. If you won’t stop me, then I have no qualms about leaving.”
“You aren’t a regular, right? If your conscription period is up, I can’t stop you.”
Due to the Sacred Kingdom’s extensive conscription system, distinguishing draftees from career soldiers was often achieved by referring to the latter as regulars. Pabel and his subordinates were all regulars, while Orlando’s group was a mix.
“So you mean it’s fine if I quit?”
This was the first time Orlando ever saw Pabel’s face move aside from when his wife or daughter came up. The change was so slight that picking it up took all the powers of perception that Orlando had honed as an exceptional warrior; it was doubtful anyone else had noticed.
This man who Orlando regarded as steel was moved by an action he took. A stormy mix of joy and sorrow roared in Orlando’s breast.
“…The law gives you that right. There’s nothing I can do… That said, losing a man of
