Chapter 21
Lanzhe spoke in a calm voice.
“I know increasing the number of people who can be used for communication or reconnaissance doesn’t make a huge difference.”
Of course, those were important factors, but there was already a mage for communication standing by in this room.
Reconnaissance wasn’t a pressing concern either. The enemy’s mage count was similar, so they would also be focusing their personnel on communication.
It had been centuries since noble mages were the core of the battlefield.
With the advent of artillery, the role of mages had steadily diminished, and in the peaceful times that followed, research to re-utilize them as combat forces had stalled.
Even the current Mage Academy was more of a relic of the old hostage system than a proper military training institution. If mages had any use today, it was likely in espionage.
But Lanzhe had personally experienced the battles of the future.
“Still, imagine this,” Lanzhe said, pointing to the map surrounded by Petra and her close aides.
“What if we attacked the enemy’s major strongholds from the air?”
Petra gave Lanzhe a bewildered look.
“That kind of tactic has already lost its effectiveness.”
“It did. There were few mages, flying was difficult, and they lacked the defense to withstand artillery. But unlike the secretive families who clung to tradition, military and external spells have slowly evolved.”
While secret techniques were still more powerful individually, research centers under the Central Command had accumulated progress.
“Was it ten years ago…?”
A communications mage sitting in the corner murmured.
Having completed mandatory service, she was a former officer and could guess what Lanzhe was referring to.
“Yes. A far more sophisticated flight technique was announced, nothing like what we had before.”
“But it’s still a high-level spell…”
The mage trailed off.
Everyone in the room knew Lanzhe was Petra’s sixth cousin and the mage who got caught up in the commotion in Farrell the previous day. Petra herself had briefly suspected Lanzhe of being a spy from a foreign country, so to those unaware of the full story, Lanzhe appeared abnormally skilled.
The mage swallowed hard.
‘If they managed to manipulate the weather, flight wouldn’t be hard either.’
That success had actually been thanks to the truly extraordinary Lenart, but the details weren’t well known. Her assumption wasn’t entirely wrong.
‘If she’d been bad at flying, she’d have died long before turning twenty-five.’
Lanzhe gave a small smile. Those who couldn’t manage that had perished early; by that time, the remaining mage officers were all refined elites.
In the silence, everyone began running calculations in their minds.
Petra rubbed her chin and murmured.
“Right. Your uncle was Eirik Swanhild…”
The fact that Lanzhe had such unmatched skill for her age could mostly be explained by her origin in the Swanhild family.
Her uncle, the current minor count Eirik, was one of the rare high nobles with experience serving as a mage officer. The Swanhilds had a tradition of sending one direct mage descendant into the military, and so had likely remained interested in external spellcraft.
Petra organized her thoughts.
‘She said she wasn’t treated well growing up, but maybe she did receive some training. Maybe she exaggerated her complaints…’
Lanzhe continued explaining her plan to Petra.
“If it were just your brother, maybe not—but the criminals in Farrell can’t possibly be prepared for a mage attack. We’ll deal a significant blow.”
Lenart and Petra looked at Lanzhe with uncertain, uneasy eyes.
‘Come to think of it… did she always speak this clearly?’
They had always thought Lanzhe was poor at expressing herself, so her clear and confident explanation felt unfamiliar.
Petra’s close aides were already leaning toward Lanzhe’s proposal. Petra, too, seriously considered it, beyond her surprise.
‘She’s volunteering, and if what she says is true, we can weaken my brother’s hand before the battle even starts.’
Even if they couldn’t root out Farrell’s forces entirely, they could still shock them. It would force the enemy to divert resources to aerial defense.
Petra made up her mind and turned her head.
“Fine. With you… we’ll make it a kind of mercenary contract. Let’s agree on payment and bonuses.”
“How much?”
“This much, for now. I’ll raise it after seeing the result of your first sortie.”
Lanzhe’s eyes widened at the number Petra scribbled on a piece of paper. It was twice the salary she had received as an officer.
Sitting upright, Lanzhe replied,
“…I’ll do my best. I can start as early as dawn tomorrow.”
Petra gave a silent nod at her determined voice.
Now, the only stunned person left in the library was Lenart.
“So this is what you meant by helping?”
On their way back to the rooms after leaving the library, Lenart followed immediately and demanded an explanation.
Lanzhe snorted playfully.
“To you, it’s probably pocket change, but don’t belittle me.”
“That’s not the issue!”
Lanzhe knew. She knew Lenart was worried about her, and that such worry came from normal human emotion.
She had simply decided not to act “normally.”
“I’m not backing down. I believe this is the right thing.”
“If belief alone could solve things, Simone wouldn’t be in the state she’s in now.”
“You’re being touchy. You haven’t eaten, have you?”
Lenart sighed, feeling like he’d have better luck talking to a wall.
He half gave up trying to convince Lanzhe and instead began resenting Petra for sending a younger relative—closer in age to a niece—into such danger. Even if Lanzhe had volunteered, it was still an absurd decision. Either reckless or heartless.
But Lanzhe, unaware of the storm of thoughts in Lenart’s head, looked up at him with a serene gaze.
“If you’re so worried, why don’t you come with me?”
“…What?”
“You’ve seen that I’m capable, but you’re still anxious, right? Why not assist me, just like in Farrell?”
It was such an absurd suggestion that Lenart didn’t even know where to begin. He could only let out a sigh.
“…Do you even know who you’re talking to?”
“Of course I do.”
“You’ve heard why I left the capital, haven’t you?”
“You never explained it in detail.”
“Do I need to explain? A royal whose claim to succession hasn’t disappeared, getting involved in a war for the position of prince-elector—can you imagine what kind of rumors would spread?”
Lanzhe wanted to point out that he was only thinking of the worst-case scenario.
‘If no one finds out, there’s no problem.’
But she tilted her head instead, because she also understood his reaction.
Lanzhe understood that Lenart had spent his whole life in political danger.
From age eight to eighteen—ten years could easily be called a lifetime. It was no wonder his thinking had hardened, like someone domesticated by fear.
For him, attention was always dangerous. His talent had been more of a burden than a gift. His diligent efforts had only brought misfortune. Attending the Mage Academy, becoming top of his class, and still walking away—it was all part of the same story.
He had simply offended his uncle.
The result was not praise, but punishment. Trade routes were blocked, goods meant for his territory were cut off, and the academy’s budget slashed.
Tying together two unrelated issues might seem paranoid, but the Emperor was petty enough to make it plausible.
That was why Lenart had left the school and come all the way to the harsh western region.
This was proof that wanting to help the world and fearing being a burden weren’t mutually exclusive. In fact, they often went hand in hand.
“Why do you always start with worry?”
Instead of criticizing his habits and personality, Lanzhe whispered softly.
“If things go south, yes, it’ll be bad. But this isn’t the capital. Who even knows where you are? If it gets serious, just deny everything.”
The way she said it without even blinking left Lenart speechless. As he stood there dazed, Lanzhe strode ahead.
“If you don’t want to come, stay put. I can handle it.”
“Isn’t that a little arrogant?”
“You’ll know soon enough whether it is.”
“If something goes wrong, you won’t just get hurt.”
“But if I don’t act, nothing changes.”
Lanzhe didn’t believe that all change was good. But if someone was unhappy with their current life, wasn’t it natural to struggle?
She had simply seen the end already. What happens when you follow the given path and do your best.
She wasn’t stupid—she just believed it was better to think less. And she didn’t want to repeat the past and fail again.
You can’t handle big events alone. To change your life, you have to seize even the smallest of chances.
Soon, Lenart followed after her.
“Why?”
“…Because if I back off now and you get hurt, I’ll feel awful.”
“Don’t use me as an excuse. Blaming others is a bad habit.”
Her voice was cheerful, but her words had bite. Lenart finally admitted it to himself.
“Yeah. It’s hard to just sit and watch, doing nothing—whether it’s the reality of the west, or your fight.”
“Then it’s way easier and better to come with me.”
Lanzhe turned to face him.
“For your peace of mind—and for the world.”
To say he had no hesitation would’ve been a lie.
Staring at the burning red evening sky, Lenart retraced the events of the past few days. How a trip with no destination ended up here. He listed every choice he had made.
He turned his gaze to Lanzhe beside him.
Her hair fluttered in the wind, glowing warmly in the sunset, but her green eyes were endlessly calm. They looked like they’d taken on the chill of the spear she held in one hand.
They were standing high above Farrell.
The city looked distant, like scattered dots of ink. Only a few buildings could be distinguished.
As Lanzhe gathered her magic, she identified several key spots. Damille’s new headquarters and key branches—targets for tonight’s attack. This time, Petra had brought reliable intel.
Lanzhe was about to strike those places.
They had decided to attack Farrell just yesterday. The speed was so fast it seemed questionable whether she was even prepared.
But Lanzhe showed no signs of anxiety.
“Like I said before, I’ll leave the calculations to you.”
“Dumping all the annoying work on me, huh?”
“No use whining about what’s already done.”
Lenart didn’t reply.
He recalled the map he had memorized just before departure. Petra had shown it to him without hesitation, at his request.
He hadn’t told her he was going to fight alongside Lanzhe, but she hadn’t asked why—perhaps she had guessed.
“By the way, senior,” Lanzhe suddenly asked a question Petra probably had wondered, too.
“Why did you decide to help me?”
And now Lanzhe