Rio scratched his cheek with the flat of his blade. "So? What now, old man?"
Eason looked up at the sky.
The sun burned over the barren land, harsh and bright. Heat shimmered above the black ground. Even the air seemed tired.
Then Eason smiled.
"Rest."
Rio blinked.
"What?"
He pointed toward the west. "You want to rest? Of all the things?"
Eason's gaze remained on the sky. "It is too hot to march."
Samantha's mouth twitched with irritation.
Madlock looked at the old man carefully. "Are you certain, Old Eason?"
Eason nodded once.
"We wait until tomorrow."
The words spread through the clearing. Some soldiers looked relieved. Others looked more nervous, as if waiting made the unseen fortress heavier.
Charles' eyes narrowed slightly, but he did not object.
Elaine gave a small nod. "A rested army is more useful than a hurried one."
Rio clicked his tongue. "Resting before a silent fortress feels boring."
"That is because you confuse wisdom with boredom," Madlock said.
Rio grinned. "Maybe wisdom should try being exciting."
Eason's gaze shifted.
Briefly, it landed on Klaus.
Klaus was still staring at the black ground.
At the old burns.
At the half-buried club.
At the place where a young man once survived by swinging a branch with shaking hands.
"Mr. Enigma," Eason said.
Klaus did not respond.
The old man's tone softened, but only slightly.
"Mr. Enigma."
Klaus blinked.
The present returned.
He turned his hooded face toward Eason.
Eason smiled politely. "May I ask for your cooperation?"
Klaus stared at him for a moment.
Then he said, "You commissioned me. So I have to cooperate."
"How dutiful," Eason said. "I am moved."
"You're not."
"Correct."
Rio laughed once. "I like him. Maybe a spar before roaming will do."
Klaus ignored him.
Eason tapped his cane lightly against the blackened ground.
"I need a scout," he said. "A reliable one. Can you fill the rank?"
For a breath, Klaus said nothing.
No complaint.
No question.
No dramatic promise.
He simply turned and walked west.
The shadows beneath his cloak deepened.
Then his body blurred.
Phantom Jump.
He vanished.
Only a fading phantom remained for a heartbeat, a dark outline stepping through empty air before dissolving into dust and heat.
Several nearby soldiers stared.
Madlock frowned. "Isn't he a warrior, Old Eason?"
Eason folded both hands over his cane. "Actually, he is a scout."
Charles' brows drew together.
"A scout with superb swordsmanship," he said quietly. "That is rare."
Rio's grin widened until it looked almost painful.
"He's smokin' hot," Rio said. "At first, I thought I was fighting Hevert. Then he pulled a massive object out of nowhere. I thought he's a mage. Now you're telling me he's actually a scout?" He laughed and dragged his sword back over his shoulder. "Damn. I want to fight him again."
Silence followed.
Not because Rio had said something foolish.
Because, for a moment, everyone had thought the same thing.
Hevert.
The dead man's swordsmanship in a stranger's hand. Not just the swordsmanship, but every movement.
Even those who did not want to believe it had seen enough.
Madlock lowered his gaze, troubled.
Charles' expression became colder.
Elaine said nothing, but her eyes shifted toward Eason.
Samantha walked closer to the old man while the others remained silent. Her voice dropped into a whisper.
"So you really convinced him."
Eason blinked innocently.
"Who?"
Samantha's eyes narrowed. "Don't act like a fool. I'm talking about the traitor's boy."
Eason looked toward the west, where Klaus had disappeared.
"I am not aware of what you are talking about, young lady."
"Deny it all you want," Samantha said. "I don't care."
Her voice hardened.
"As long as we win the battle, anything is acceptable. But old wounds leave scars. Aren't you worried he'll draw his sword on us?"
Eason's smile became faint.
"We are not his enemy."
Samantha stared at him.
For once, there was no vulgarity in her tone.
"I hope so."
Then she turned and walked toward one of the newly raised tents, dust trailing behind her boots.
Eason watched the place where Klaus had vanished.
His smile remained, but it held something quieter now.
Not confidence exactly.
Not fear.
Something between hope and calculation.
Around him, the camp shifted into motion again.
Orders everywhere.
"Set the defensive ring!"
"No fires close to the black ground!"
"Scouts in pairs around the south ridge!"
"Medical tents behind the second wagon line!"
The captains barked orders, and soldiers answered. Canvas rose. Stakes bit into hard earth. Shields were stacked close to hand. Horses were watered. Subjugators checked weapons and armor with less idle talk than before.
Slaves raised their own tents under Gondor's command—one for males and another for females. Chester tried to copy Gondor, yet no one listened.
"Damn it," Chester said, frustratedly. He kicked the stone hard, hitting a soldier.
"Are you picking a fight, you filthy slave?" the soldier shouted.
"I'm sorry, sir. I'm just clearing the path. The stone can trip anyone." He lowered his head as he apologized.
Another soldier tapped his comrade's shoulder, "Let's go. Don't waste your time talking to a corpse."
The soldier glared at Chester, then walked away.
Chester sighed, "Maybe it's better to be dead."
A few dozen meters away, Shane stood beside Molly, one hand resting on the beast's harness. His gaze remained fixed on the fading traces of Enigma's phantom.
A faint smile touched his mouth.
"Looks like the sloth remains on the tree."
Ulon, standing beside him with a water skin in one hand, frowned and looked around.
"I see no tree nor sloth here, boss."
Shane's smile thinned.
"It was a metaphor."
Ulon squinted toward the barren field, then toward the wagons, then back at Shane.
"I don't get it."
Shane patted Molly's harness and turned away.
"That's better."
Ulon stared after him.
Then he muttered, "People should stop making smart sentences if they don't want questions."
From the newly raised tent nearby, Elaine's voice floated out calmly.
"Then you should stop creating questions that lead to nothing."
Ulon stiffened.
"…How does she keep hearing me?"
Shane did not answer.
He only looked west again, toward the silent fortress.
Beyond the ridges, Aegulus waited without drums, without horns, without movement.
And somewhere ahead, Klaus moved alone through the barren land, covered with shadow, old memories, and a name no one dared speak too loudly.