From Isel to Emilia (1)
"Then think it over carefully. I'll give you a week."
With those words, Rusillan Grand Duke left the study. She had promised a week's stay, which meant they would depart in a week—finish up everything by then.
But Rosel had no intention of pressuring Roden. The decision was entirely up to him. If Roden chose not to go, he could persuade Rusillan some other way.
"I won't force you. If you want to stay by Silia's side, then do that."
"..."
Roden hesitated, unable to open his mouth easily, confusion clouding his face. An expedition to the northern lands—an endless campaign with no set return. He sank into thought.
Leaving this comfortable life for the frozen wastes wasn't a choice to make lightly. Above all, who knew when he'd see Silia again.
"You don't have to decide today. Take your time. I'll respect whatever you choose, so speak freely."
Rosel spoke to him apologetically. He hadn't anticipated Rusillan wanting Roden. And now this situation felt like it was pressuring the boy—he felt terrible about it. A dilemma too harsh for a thirteen-year-old.
Yet Roden flashed a deep smile. The worries about heading to the frozen north, to a raw and brutal world, didn't drag on long.
It was time to prove his resolve to do anything for the adult named Rosel wasn't empty words. Especially since he owed him his life twice over. His life belonged to Rosel—how could he even hesitate?
Besides, that raw world surely held much to learn. How could he grow like Sir Dubel in a cushy life? He wasn't nobility; he couldn't even attend the academy.
Next year, Silia would enter the academy and grow while he became an adult. He had no such path. So for his own training and growth, the northern expedition promised plenty to gain.
Thus, Roden set aside his doubts and told Rosel.
"I'll go with Rusillan Grand Duke."
"...You sure?"
"To protect Lady Silia, I need to get stronger than her, right? The north seems like it'll give me chances to grow."
Roden insisted it wasn't forced—this was for himself too, so no worries. It was sincere.
And his lord desired revolution. To save this rotten kingdom. That alone was reason enough not to refuse.
If this lowly life could aid the revolution even a little, if it could help fulfill his lord's will even slightly, then it was his duty.
Rosel rose and placed a hand on Roden's shoulder. He wanted to adopt this admirable boy, but in these turbulent times, everyone had their role. He gazed down at him with affection.
"I'm grateful you think that way, Roden. I'll cheer your growth. And when the revolution succeeds, I'll reward this choice."
"No need, my lord. You've saved my life twice already—I don't seek rewards."
"Then is there anything you want?"
"Hmm..."
Roden pursed his lips in thought. Grand rewards had never crossed his mind.
"Please... protect Emilia well."
That was his one wish. Through the three-day feast, he'd realized Isel was a pitiful scapegoat—and seen how dearly his lord cherished her. Roden wished for the hero's safety.
"Roden..."
Rosel smiled at the boy's thoughtfulness. Calling her Emilia, not Isel—it moved him deeply.
Yes, it was right to discard the slave name now. Roden's words made Rosel realize it was time to remove the label he'd given her.
"Very well. Just as you fulfilled your vow to protect Silia, I swear on my life to protect Emilia."
Roden grinned back, then bowed deeply in respect.
"Thank you, my lord. I'm truly grateful for your care all this time. I'll repay this grace."
"No. You've done me favors too—let's call it even."
"...Call it even? What does that mean...?"
"Haha, our debts balance out, so no need to repay."
Their final laughter filled the study, soaring toward the future.
Bang! The door flew open urgently.
Only Silia could open the lord's study without knocking. But it wasn't Silia—it was Head Butler Gellion.
Rosel stopped smiling at his pale face and stared. A foreboding chill tightened him as he asked,
"...What is it, Gellion?"
"M-my lord...!"
Unshed tears glistened in Gellion's eyes. Urgent news had just arrived from the capital.
"His Majesty the King has been assassinated...!"
Rosel understood the meaning of those tears at the unexpected report.
"...Sir Dubel."
Dubel's glare at King Brikal during the final feast had signaled change, but not catastrophe. Rosel knew Dubel best—thought he'd choose oath over conviction at that crossroads. Yet he'd chosen conviction.
And knowing those tears were for Dubel, not Brikal, Rosel mourned the man who'd gone far down conviction's path.
Though his disciple's master had erred in felling Emilia, atoning with his life was noble.
Rosel stroked Roden's head as the boy stared up wide-eyed at the idol's demise.
"...The revolution has begun, Roden."
Like a pro cartoonist finishing