Solemn March Forth (4)
A week had passed since we'd checked everyone's abilities.
Mornings were for training, afternoons for endless meetings.
We're not some ragtag group of adventurers who suddenly banded together. A typical adventuring party would start with light requests or hunting in nearby spots to gauge each other's skills before deciding whether to tackle riskier quests or disband.
But we had to aim for the final boss from the get-go.
No backing out of the commission, no dissolving the party.
So we had to drill relentlessly with the selected members to master coordination and teamwork.
During training,
Parlen acknowledged me as a reliable superior and asked me to give orders comfortably.
Since this more seasoned veteran was saying it, I started speaking casually with him too.
But I still couldn't drop the formalities with the academy president, our eldest member.
Parlen's true value lay in his defensive techniques for holding formations, but in actual drills, what proved most reassuring was his experience and quick thinking.
I commanded from the rear, with Parlen up front. He'd give timely instructions to Ragi or Chiria in spots I couldn't see, so I told them to prioritize his judgment during combat unless something special came up.
Plus, thanks to his connections with the Royal Guard and adventurers, he sometimes brought in former subordinates for mock battles, which was a huge help.
I'd expected Ragi—used to solo missions—to just handle scouting, but as a Royal Guard veteran, she was adept at formation fighting too.
Recently, along with Parlen's new shield, she'd bought a small one just bigger than her palm. She'd use it to cover his gaps or dart out solo at the right moment to intercept.
When she rocketed forward, putting her full body weight behind a thrust from that thick, cross-shaped driver-like sword, most shields or armor would pierce or shatter.
From afar, her hit-and-run strikes felt like launching guided missiles.
Her teasing temptations toward me—half-joking, half-serious—kept coming. Every time, Chiria would scoop me up or toss me aside. Ragi would respond with circus-level acrobatic landings.
No matter how you sliced it, Ragi seemed more thief than knight.
Chiria...
She followed orders well. Moved and attacked as directed, even unreasonable demands.
I had her try a shield as a test—way too big, totally unfamiliar—and she stubbornly kept at it until I called it off.
When idle, she'd stand quietly and demurely behind me.
Which meant I'd zone out, then jolt at the sudden shadow behind me.
Turn around, and there'd be a black-haired ghost grinning just with her mouth visible.
All told,
Chiria struck me as a big, brawling kid.
Awkward with people, inflexible in thinking.
Even now, when Ragi approached, she'd suddenly level her spear like a guardswoman aiming at her fellow Royal Guard.
She was protecting me because I didn't like it.
But did she have to point a weapon at a teammate?
Damish's abilities were versatile, but hard to sync with others for combos.
His two-handed sword swings covered too wide an arc, restricting allies instead.
Even matching his unique prayers, our team had better attack options.
So Damish handled solo moves in special cases or support like healing and holding positions.
He also made a great punching bag for the vanguard.
That Earth Embrace wooden bunker of his—we'd all slashed and stabbed it once or twice.
Thanks to the Earth God's blessing, its thick branches had magic resistance—perfect for testing magic weapons.
On the first day of practice, Chiria had clamped her mouth shut in silent fury when her great bow failed to break it.
Next day, she nailed spearhead arrows into one spot twice in a row, finally snapping the branch and wearing Damish out.
Her power kept growing; yesterday, she shattered it in one shot.
Now Damish avoids facing her. Not bad blood—just scared.
Paradilan became a fan of the punching machine too.
He'd often spar one-on-one with Damish under the guise of magic practice,
testing all sorts of spells on the bunker while at it.
He said there aren't many targets that sturdy yet safe to hit freely.
But it looked more like stress relief.
Whenever he had time, he'd learn ancient language from me too.
Teaching it to a pinnacle mage felt daunting at first.
But seeing him gleefully hammer the bunker right after...
Hmm, better let him enjoy it... Guess I get it.
No matter the age, hobbies are irresistible.
Wonder if Damish's mental fortitude will hold up, though.
Still tons of info gaps, tactical holes.
I wanted longer training, but after a week, that wasn't feasible.
On the third day, a palace secretary asked about our vanguard's departure date.
I brushed it off at first.
But the next day, and the day after—same question.
Hard not to notice.
Reminded me of bosses or team leads back home. They'd hint like that when pushing overtime or weekend work—too direct, and it'd sting.
When's it done? Still not? How long?!
Classic sleazy small-company pattern.
Anyway, the palace was pressuring our schedule.
Academy president said the palace and Darania Knights were in a sour mood.
Recently, the knights had been arming up and mustering forces, destination secret—sparking wild rumors.
So they needed our vanguard back quick to redirect or disband those troops.
Palace wanted us out fast for even minor results.
Night and day training and studying later, we set departure for the day after tomorrow.
Too busy to see Ashu these past days.
Meeting her meant hours away,
and as overall leader, I couldn't spare it amid the chaos.
At least before leaving...
Training, gear prep, docs—sun set before I knew it.
And the day before departure.
Told Paradilan the situation; he said go worry-free.
Ragi seemed to catch on too—no pestering today.
Ordered Chiria home to rest and greet her parents. Otherwise, she'd tail me.
Wrapped up loose ends, headed to Kalderan Cathedral—but Ashu was out.
With the sun strong tomorrow, saintess was in important rites, unavailable.
Couldn't leave like this.
Sat praying, waiting.
Ashu would sense me via the Connection Ring.
But she never showed.
Not till sunset.
Back in my palace room, I lay there blankly.
Thought of sneaking a look, but no clue which room—or if she was even there. Caught, it'd spell big trouble for her while I'm gone.
As I stewed in helplessness, someone knocked.
“Sir Kirgil, here about tomorrow's departure.”
An elderly butler's voice. Opened to an old man with etiquette etched into his soul. Probably the head butler.
“Sir Kirgil, brave warriors face life-or-death battles by embracing reason and relieving base desires to boost morale. Thus, I come to propose a fine encounter.”
“......”
Suddenly, what brainless offer? I tilted my head, staring at the butler.
Did this world run a brothel from the palace?
Butler as pimp?
Already heartsick over Ashu, now this weirdo scratching at my nerves.
Gonna build resentment toward old folks at this rate.
“Ahem... Please consider carefully, Sir Kirgil. Tomorrow's a day of strong sun. Perhaps a woman infused with solar vigor will come.”
“!?”
Got it—dropped the aggression, bowed respectfully, begged him to make it happen.
Man, spare me the weird metaphors. No wonder the kid's got middle-school syndrome growing up in this house!
Moments later,
A woman in white muslin veil over her face opened my door.
No knock—just entered.
“Kirgil...”
She threw herself at me, fidgeting by the door. Voice, build, scent, feel—Ashu, obviously.
She hugged tight, burying her face in my chest, stifling sobs. Desperately holding back tears ready to burst.
Didn't ask how she got here. Didn't want to waste precious time on that.
Lifted her veil, stroked her damp aquamarine hair in the dark, soothing her.
Less than a month apart, felt like years.
About thirty minutes later,
Emotions subsided; I lifted her face, wiped the tear-streaked mess with a handkerchief.
“Ugh... my makeup... sniff... it's ruined...”
“Why? I like seeing your familiar face without it.”
Said so, gave a light kiss—she giggled hee~.
She's in full aegyo mode today. Suddenly arms around my neck.
Princess carry signal.
Real princess—gotta oblige.
Destination? Bed, obviously.
Laid her down gently like tucking in a baby—then she yanked my neck hard.
Oof, strong grip.
Almost lost balance and toppled.
“Hey now, princess throwing a tantrum like a kid? Mind your dignity.”
“...”
Long time no see her blush and puff cheeks—welcome sight, adorable.
Is this that elementary kid urge to tease your crush?
Held Ashu in my left arm, gazing at that cute face while my right hand stroked her body slowly from head down.
Face, neck, breasts, waist, hips, legs... savoring her texture, reactions.
Midway, she squeezed eyes shut, tensed her toes, trembled.
“Kirgil...”
Ashu squirmed lightly in my arms. No clue why, but today I felt like teasing her more.
Not some sadistic kink. Her sensitive reactions to my light touches just made me want to explore bit by bit.
“K-Kirgiiil...”
Oh crap.
Think I've developed a bit of a sadistic streak.