CHAPTER 142: REX AND AMAL

Rex had long known him to be a dutiful, serious man, but he worried that Amal might collapse from it all.

As for Lord Quintus?

He was fine.

He was ten years younger than Amal and well used to battlefields.

The High Priest, with two of his clerics, had questioned the leaders of the former military government that was chained in the underground prison about the forbidden ancient magic circle.

The third leader, Libertus, did not know much either.

The true mastermind was his deputy, Roaille.

Libertus was a pitiful man, even to Rex’s eyes—not fit for the weight of a general or minister.

"Lord Libertus had no knowledge of this. It was all my decision alone. He only moved the soldiers as I requested."

Roaille had said this.

It seemed less like protecting his master and more like stating the plain truth.

Libertus only hung his head, fiddling with the stone floor with the chained fingers of his right hand, drawing meaningless shapes.

So the questioning had focused on Roaille.

Perhaps it was because he was a mage who specialized in magic circles that he alone understood the meaning of the fragments gathered by scholars who studied ruins.

When he realized those fragments were pieces of a circle, he demanded the scholars hand them over, rewarded them, and had them gather more.

At last, he reconstructed a single complete magic circle.

"I knew it was forbidden. But I could not resist the temptation—as a mage of circles."

He also hoped that if it succeeded, people would finally recognize the power of mages like him.

Perhaps it would even bring glory to his master Libertus.

Rex could not understand why Roaille felt so much loyalty to such a weak master.

Libertus was not worth such devotion.

"I never imagined it was something so terrifying."

Roaille bowed his head deeply to Amal, the only survivor.

No doubt in his mind he saw the thousands who had perished by that circle and the beasts it unleashed.

"Roaille repented deeply before the High Priest. He signed his confession and also promised to testify publicly."

Lord Quintus seemed satisfied with Rex’s report.

Leaving his chamber, Rex and Amal headed to their assigned rooms.

The hour was far past midnight.

Even a little sleep would help.

"Amal, is your leg hurting?"

It was winter, and the stone-built underground prison had been damp and bitterly cold.

His leg that was once crushed and broken had been treated by Sayu, but it was far from fully healed.

Even as a prisoner, he had been forced to ride in wagons to the villages of Dalmasca and endure many hardships without rest.

With his small amount of magic, healing would take longer.

Watching him limp slightly, Rex could not help but speak with concern.

"Just a little. Don’t worry."

"You’ve been pushing yourself too hard. If you don’t take care, it will haunt you later. Once we’re back in the room, I’ll warm it for you."

"You’re always doing too much for me, Rex."

"Think nothing of it."

Amal gave a shy but grateful smile and Rex who is felt embarrassed smiled back at him.

...

After Shiao Yi and the others left and even Quintus stepped out of the room, Aaron decided it was time for him to head to the chamber assigned to him.

Shiao Yi, whom he had been worried about, had safely returned, and Captain Dominic also seemed to have regained his composure somehow.

That was enough to ease his mind.

Once he felt that relief, the sleepiness hit him hard.

On his way out, he casually picked up the bottle of wine and a glass left on the table.

Everyone else was too distracted with other matters, so no one would mind.

Besides, it was better for the drink to be enjoyed by someone who could appreciate the taste, like him.

Stepping into the corridor, his eyes caught sight of Rex and Amal following behind Lord Quintus.

Ah, once again, Aaron had missed the chance to invite Rex for a private night.

Somehow, Rex never ended up alone—Amal was almost always at his side.

Even now, Rex was slowing his steps out of concern for the older man’s injured leg.

Aaron frowned slightly.

Did Rex really prefer that old man?

Truly, Amal was nothing more than an ordinary man you could find anywhere.

There was nothing special about him.

Entering his bedroom, Aaron placed the wine bottle on the table.

It was a proper guest room, well-prepared, spacious enough with a clean bed neatly made with fresh sheets.

As expected, the castle at least offered this level of comfort.

He poured himself a glass of wine, then diluted it with water from the pitcher set out.

Aaron wasn’t stupid enough to drink strong liquor just to look impressive.

He knew his limits well and stuck to them.

Taking a sip, he spread out a map on the table—the map of Dalmasca he had received from the church in Mitromica.

Slowly, he sipped his drink as he studied it.

Looking at it again now, he noticed just how little greenery Dalmasca had.

The dry hills and wasteland stretched across most of the land, with only scattered forests in between.

To the northwest, mountains stretched on endlessly.

The lack of fertile farmland explained why the country struggled with food production.

It also explained their desire for Nabradia, the neighboring breadbasket.

And no doubt, Rosaria constantly blocking Dalmasca’s plans to conquer Nabradia would feel irritating to them.

In that sense, Aaron could feel a bit of sympathy.

Still, that didn’t mean he agreed with war.

War was the choice of fools.

No matter the cause or justification, war always led to death, ruined towns, and destroyed farmland.

Smart men found other ways without relying on such reckless measures.

Men like Aaron himself.

Dalmasca, however, was known for making fine weapons.

That wasn’t simply because they were a war-hungry nation.

They had access to good raw materials.

If they could mine iron, then surely they could extract other valuable resources too.

With a sly laugh, Aaron tipped back his glass and drained the rest of his wine.