Den of Vipers (9)
Francois had prepared moussaka. It was a dish from the peninsula nations on the western side of the continent—layers of eggplant, onions, tomatoes, and ground meat doused in sauce and baked in an oven. It looked a lot like lasagna, but the flavor was a touch different. Of course, Francois had made it, so it was delicious either way.
Gobert's face lit up at the sight of the moussaka.
"Moussaka! I once ate some leftovers from a feast for foreign dignitaries in the palace kitchens, and it was out of this world. Never thought I'd get to have it here."
"Eat up. Our head chef trained at the Cuisine Academy."
"Really?!"
Gobert glanced toward the kitchen as he spoke. "They're the kind who only work in royal palaces or great noble houses... How on earth did you hire someone like that?"
"Long story. Eat first."
Gobert beamed as he sliced into the moussaka with fork and knife, popping a piece into his mouth. He closed his eyes, letting out a satisfied hum through his nose as he savored it.
"Mmmmmm... This is... just incredible... So delicious I'm practically in bliss... Is it okay to be this happy...?"
"Cut the crap."
I snorted at his grandiose review. But Francois's skills were the real deal—even the stoic legion soldiers were murmuring their awe.
"Must be nice, bro. Eating like this every day."
"Jealous? Quit your gig and come work here as a waiter."
"I'd love to. Mmm..."
Gobert was so engrossed in his meal, it was like he'd forgotten why he'd come all this way. I sipped my beer and waited patiently for him to come up for air.
But seriously, how the hell did this guy get here? The Lucia garrison headquarters was a long way from Rosens. A frontline commander wasn't some corner shop owner—he couldn't just up and leave on a whim. And Gobert's position was especially delicate. The palace would be tracking his every move. If they found out he'd met me, the whole capital would erupt.
Hmm... Was he deliberately making a show of it to send a message to the palace? But if he had bad intentions, it'd be smarter to lull them into security first, then strike from behind. No need to advertise, "Hey, I'm dangerous."
"Ah... This is truly delicious, bro."
Gobert had polished off his plate, his face radiating genuine bliss.
"Heh. Glad you liked it."
"Worth the trip. Warm, bustling, smells amazing... I love it here."
"Our inn's not bad, huh? So, why'd you come?"
Gobert flashed a simple, innocent smile. "Missed you, bro. It's been a year since you left the palace."
"But a frontline commander isn't so idle he can ditch HQ just 'cause he misses someone."
"True, but when it's you, Bertrand Balder? Different story."
Back at the palace, we'd been pretty close. Amid all the scheming snakes, Gobert stood out as refreshingly naive and kind-hearted. I worried sometimes how a softie like him survived. But that's what I liked about him—we hung out a lot. Ten years as friends? Damn close, yeah.
"Appreciate it. But with the kingdom in such a weird spot, hard to buy that it's purely innocent."
"A soldier just needs to hold his sector. What 'weird spot'?"
Gobert chuckled and took a swig of beer, then raved about how good it was for a good long while.
"So, staying the night?"
"I'd love to. Like those adventure tales you told me back then—I wanna hear about running an inn. But... can't stay away from HQ too long."
"Figured. You didn't come just to see my face and grab a bite. Tongue or blade?"
Gobert's expression darkened for a split second at my words.
"Sharp as ever, bro. Same old you."
"Even a passing slime would notice."
He sighed. "Yeah. Truth is, I've got ulterior motives. Wanna guess what?"
"Depends if you're facing front or back."
Understanding dawned, and shadows deepened on his face. "Exactly..."
"First off, dismiss your legion boys."
"Got it. This place is probably the safest spot in the world anyway."
At his glance, the soldiers stood and filed out of the inn.
"Why're you here? Straight talk. I hate beating around the bush, and you're no good at it anyway."
"Haha... Right. I'm here for your help, bro."
"Help? I'm just an innkeeper now. What could I possibly do?"
"Don't say that. That's the Holy Sword, right?"
His eyes lingered on the blade hanging behind the bar.
"Still under the Goddess's blessing, huh."
"You punk. That's just decor to class up the joint now. Spill—what help?"
"Advise me on how to save a kingdom on the brink of collapse."
Not asking for muscle—just advice? Testing how I rate the kingdom's mess, eh? Gobert, you sly dog... Grown a lot since then. Position makes the man, huh? Better than some grinning idiot at the helm.
"But Gobert, before that—let's clear something crucial."
"What's that?"
"Like I said: confirm if you're aiming front or back."
He stared silently.
"The Noble Council, palace, Bacomor—they're small fry in this game."
"Are they?"
"Even if the Council raises all their private troops, they can't match the legions. Sure, casualties, but legions crush 'em."
"Right. Kingdom legions are powerhouse."
"Bacomor too. Even if they mass on Lucia, they ain't punching through your six frontline divisions."
"True. They'd have by now if they could."
"So Council and Bacomor are wild cards, but nothing the palace can't handle with some blood."
I pointed at him. "The real wildcard? You and Lucia's six legions."
"Me...? Never saw myself that way..."
"Drop the half-assed act. Doesn't suit you."
He grinned sheepishly, scratching his head.
"If you hold position, Council won't dare full war. Same for Bacomor. But turn back? Game over."
"Spot on. Lucia's six are the kingdom's strongest force."
"So let's nail it: You paving the way for Elua to clean up, or planning to crown yourself?"
Straight question—he bowed his head, silent for a long beat.
"Honestly... I don't know."
I sipped my beer; soon he spoke.
"I know I'm the key piece here, like you said. But I dunno what to do."
"Hmph. Dumbass. If it were me, I'd grip the legions tight and squeeze the palace, Council, and Bacomor for all they're worth."
"Someone like you could, sure..."
He trailed off.
"That's why I'm here. What should I do?"
Gobert: ten-year pal, most naive goody-two-shoes I knew at court. But I'm no saint either—can't fully trust him. Guy grabbed the kingdom's strongest legions before Elua could meddle. If he were a total airhead, he wouldn't have snagged frontline command or just twiddled thumbs.
Talking more won't reveal truth.
"Hmm... How about this, Gobert?"
"What?"
"We've got a fortune teller here. Nails the future like clockwork."
No long games. No desire to probe his chat with old king, exact trigger for frontline post, etc. In fog like this, talk drags and twists. Kosa'll sort it clean.
Couldn't bring her to HQ—perfect he came here.
Gobert blinked in bewilderment. "Fortune teller...?"
"Yeah. Heard she traded sight for demon pact—eyes for future-sight."
"Bro... You really believe that stuff...?"
"What, you think I'm full of shit?"
"No, it's not that, but..."
He fidgeted, dubious but unable to argue.
"Hard for me to advise offhand. Been holed up here a year—out of touch, don't know details. Plus, one word from me could tip the kingdom's fate."
"Sorry to burden you. But..."
"Or we could ask. See outcomes based on your choice."
"Well... yeah."
"She's legit. Might not say this, but... she foresaw those lords getting assassinated during the blockade ops."
"Wha—?! For real?"
Lie, obviously.
"No cost, no loss. Let's try it."
"If you say so... But a fortune teller, now, in this mess...?"
"Up you get, punk."
Still grumbling, Gobert followed me up the stairs to the second floor.