Chương 260: 50. Logistics Before Battles 2

I held the pen above the paper for nearly half a cup of tea's worth of time. The blank page sat there, clean enough to feel accusatory — didn't you just crawl back alive from the ancestors last night? And you can't manage the first line of a letter? Not entirely my fault. The person I was writing to was Olivia — the woman who could once pin me to a chair with a single young master, leaving whatever bravado I'd tried to muster in ruins before it even started.

If she got this letter now, she probably wouldn't call me that anymore. Not because she'd changed. Because everything else had. Once you're bonded to a fire dragon princess to the point of growing scales, and get handed the Dragon Soul as a bonus, relationships you could once leave comfortably blurred snap into painful clarity. Pretending not to see stops being an option.

"Still no first line, my lord?" Jessi had somehow acquired a second flatbread, chewing loudly, tone as sticky and needling as ever. I didn't look up.

"If you keep standing there with that spectator's face, I genuinely won't get a single word out today."

"Not my fault." She blinked.

"This is, after all, your most important love let—""Official dispatch."

"... Fine. Official dispatch." Her smile made clear she hadn't actually swallowed the word.

"But write it too cold, and Lady Olivia will think you've demoted her to bookkeeper. Write it too warm, and Matthews will start praying for your soul halfway down the road." I finally looked up.

"Are you hoping I'll throw this pen at you?"

"I am not." She shook her head immediately.

"That pen belongs to the inner court. Break it, and someone has to log the expense. You're a commander marching to war now — stop making bad investments." Wonderful. Even her concern comes out sounding like a ledger clerk possessed her. No matter where in the world the fires are burning, this woman's mouth always enters wartime footing first. I sighed and looked back down. The letter itself wasn't hard. The difficulty was the line. Too formal read as distance. Too personal read as overreach.

And Olivia was exactly the kind of person who, the instant you applied one degree too much pressure, would simply watch you in silence until you noticed the excess yourself. I thought it over, and finally set pen to paper. To Olivia von Eisenberg, The royal order has been issued. Circumstances have shifted. I will depart the Dragon Kingdom in three days and move north ahead of the main force, expecting to meet you at Three Rivers Fortress.

Hans, the deputy delegation, the escort, and Matthews will return to Cliffhold first; further documents and verbal messages will travel with them. The eastern front has already caught fire, and fire like that never stays politely outside the walls. If House Eisenberg still has grain, wagons, horses, and hands that can move, I ask that you begin preparations now.

In particular — if the crossings, supply roads, and old relay stations around Three Rivers Fortress can be secured beforehand, I won't be reduced to running my own head into a city gate when I arrive to take on troops and supplies. Additionally — if Lady Olivia has already, by whatever means, knocked on certain doors that needed knocking, then I can only say this falls entirely within what I expected of you. I have always known you see half a step further than anyone else.

So consider this letter less a request, and more permission for you to straighten the ugliest corner of the board on my behalf, before I manage to catch up. As for my own situation: I am still alive. It may not sound like intelligence worth committing to paper, but given my recent itinerary, I thought you should know regardless. See you at Three Rivers Fortress. Cedric Rosa When I lifted the pen, I found myself staring at that last line — I am still alive — for two full seconds.

Jessi had drifted closer without my noticing, reading shamelessly over my shoulder.

"Ohh—" she drew it out, grinning in a way that begged for retaliation.

"Not bad, my lord. Business in the front. Finally sounds like a person in the back." The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

"If your eyes get any closer, I'll assume you're pre-inspecting the goods for Matthews."

"Don't be stingy." She propped herself on the desk edge, tilting her head.

"That last line's good. Very much I nearly died, but dying is inconvenient right now, so consider this advance notice."

"Thank you. Your commentary, as always, makes me want to crumple this and start over."

"But you won't." She smiled, serene.

"Because you already know — that's exactly the tone she has a weakness for. Half-dead, still insisting on sounding official." I folded the letter into the envelope, declining to engage further. When the wax seal pressed down, something in my chest eased — half a breath's worth. Not because the task was finished. Because once this letter left, a great many things would genuinely start moving. Cliffhold. Three Rivers Fortress. House Eisenberg. Olivia.

And me — the unlucky one who'd been staring at ancestors under the Dragon Kingdom yesterday, and today was sitting at a desk trying to run two fronts at once. I handed the letter to the waiting clerk.

"Have Matthews carry it himself."

"Yes, my lord." My lord.... Still not entirely used to it. But discomfort, in the face of war, has never once been worth anything — same as how badly I wanted to sleep in this morning. Worthless. Almost funny, how worthless.

"Let's go," I said, standing, swinging my cloak over one shoulder.

"Time to see Hans off." The west courtyard was busier than I'd expected. No — "busy" was the wrong color. Busy calls to mind markets, weddings — places where you don't immediately see spears, wagons, saddle gear, and rows of sealed crates the second you turn your head. This looked more like chaos being forcibly compressed into order. Horses snorted steam. Wagon wheels ground dry and harsh against stone. The delegation's guards ran a headcount. Inner-court attendants hurried past clutching sealed manifests.

A few Dragon Kingdom officials stood stiffly to one side, cross-checking travel passes and royal decree copies with expressions suggesting one missing stamp could set another city on fire. At the center of it, Hans stood beside a fully hitched long wagon, back to me, issuing orders.

"Mr. Mimi's manuscript case goes in the middle cart. Nothing stacked on top. Julian's personal luggage doesn't ride with the grain wagons — separate them. That's a diplomatic delegation, not a grocery run."... Good. Very much himself. He turned the instant I approached.

"My lord."

"All set?"

"Nearly." He handed me a short roster.

"The delegation, escort, Matthews, two clerks, a rearguard cavalry squad, three document wagons, two supply wagons. Leave now, and we make the first relay station before dusk." I scanned it. Julian stood a short distance off, wearing the exact expression of a scholar who hadn't slept enough and had been dragged onto the road regardless, hugging two scrolls, two guards maintaining the fiction that he might not be trampled at any moment. Mr.

Mimi crouched by a cart, personally checking a crate's locks with an expression grave enough to suggest the box held the war's last remaining shred of sanity rather than paper. My eyes finally landed on Matthews. He'd already changed into a short traveling cloak, sword at his hip, a document tube slung across his chest. He clearly understood this trip wasn't simple courier work — he was carrying my full intent into Cliffhold's and House Eisenberg's calculations. I handed him the sealed letter.

"This one. Straight into Olivia's hands." He took it with both palms, expression straightening.

"Yes, my lord." I added, "Don't lose it. Don't let anyone else read it first." He nodded.

"Understood." Hans, quiet beside me, finally spoke, low.

"My lord — if by the time we arrive, Cliffhold has already moved..." I knew what he meant. Not the Dragon Kingdom. House Eisenberg. Not whether they'd moved. How far. I glanced at the pale grey sky and smiled slightly.

"Then it means Olivia was faster than we thought." Hans couldn't quite manage a smile either, settling for a resigned nod.

"... True enough." I handed the roster back.

"When you're there, relay this to the King exactly: I'll meet Olivia at Three Rivers Fortress. Don't let anyone read this trip as a retreat. It isn't. It's bracing the spine before we need it."

"Understood, my lord."

"And—" I paused, meeting his eyes.

"Don't die on the way." Plain. No embellishment. Hans blinked, then grinned.

"That's a great deal more useful than 'safe travels,' my lord."

"Whether the wind cooperates these days is anyone's guess. Not dying is the achievable goal." I'd barely finished when a lazy voice cut in.

"Well said." Jessi had wandered over, arms crossed, leaning against a saddled horse, wearing the exact expression of someone who'd concluded men were hopeless at goodbyes.

"I expected something more touching."

"I said something," I said, entirely sincere.

"I told him not to die."

"Deeply moving." She nodded gravely.

"When you're a proper great man someday, have that embroidered on your banner." I ignored her and nodded to Julian and Mr. Mimi in turn.

"Safe travels, both of you." Julian pushed up his glasses, tired but composed.

"You as well, my lord." Mr. Mimi simply lifted his head and gave me one deep, deliberate nod. That kind of silence sometimes carries more weight than words. I said nothing further. Saying too much now would feel like bad luck. Hans finished the formation, mounted, and turned back to salute properly.

"Then, my lord — we go ahead." I raised a hand and waved him on.

"Go." The wheels began turning. Hooves struck stone, crushing the morning mist. The delegation, the papers, the guards, the crates, and my extremely consequential letter pulled, piece by piece, out of the west courtyard — toward Cliffhold, toward Three Rivers Fortress, toward a direction that hadn't caught fire yet, but soon would. I stood watching until the last wagon's shadow vanished past the gate, then let out a breath. Jessi came to stand beside me, for once not opening with a jab.

"Going to miss them?" I glanced at her.

"Which eye told you that?"

"Neither," she admitted, honest.

"I just wanted to see if you had room for me to needle you."... There it is. The world was still the world. Jessi was still Jessi. Whenever she goes soft for half a second, I start bracing for something worse.

"Let's move." I rubbed my temple.

"If we don't reach the training grounds soon, Ignicia's going to fly over and collect me personally."

"Ooh, that would be exciting." Her grin turned lethal.

"Her Highness carrying you off in front of everyone — morale would spike."

"Morale for what, exactly?"

"Everyone would finally believe — oh, so he really is hers."

"... Can you be quiet?"

"No." I knew it.