The autumn morning light was thin and soft. The light slanted through the windows of the Prime Minister's office—the second floor of the western wing of the Tsaalhous, the room Gais had used for thirty years—casting long rectangles of shadow across the floor. Dust drifted slowly through the beams. Mizuno Misaki kept her eyes on the light's edge while her pen moved across parchment. The Gais Documents, Volume Ten. She verified the cipher substitution rules line by line while simultaneously laying out the annual supply plan for Portos Harbor on a separate sheet. Portos was a small port town at the kingdom's northeast edge, where the Felm River flowed toward the northern sea. It had functioned quietly as a national supply route, and once a year—now—the food and weapons inventory was refreshed. Three maps and a table filled with numbers overlapped on her desk. One week had passed since Kasiesu's condemnation. Arrest, interrogation, denunciation at the noble assembly. The original secret pact was submitted as evidence, and Kasiesu had no words of defense. His position as Minister of State was stripped away. He was now under house arrest in a room of the royal castle. The evidence carved into the double cipher of the Gais Documents had quietly crumbled the feet of a man who had never stopped smiling. Yet in Misaki's mind, one final sentence Gais had left continued to ring quietly. —The provincial governors are not alone. (It's not over yet.) She knew. She knew, but this week she'd managed to breathe a little easier. For the first time in a while, food tasted good. She'd slept a few hours at night. The memory of overwork and collapse from her previous life kept issuing regular warnings: "Rest properly." She'd decided to obey those warnings fairly readily. A knock at the door. Light, hesitant—two taps. "Excuse me." Aira appeared through the gap, her luminous silver hair loosely braided. Her aquamarine eyes quickly scanned the office—bright and direct, but with the habit of assessing the situation before entering, a guard's instinct. When she confirmed Misaki was alone, her expression softened slightly. She carried a wooden tray. Two round loaves of bread and a small ceramic cup. The sweet scent of mountain mead—a Luminous specialty made from fermented mountain flower honey, with a delicate sweetness—drifted from the open door. "You were up all night again?" Her tone was polite, but a hint of reproach mixed into the question. "I slept for two hours," Misaki answered honestly. Aira sighed. She set the tray on the edge of the desk and studied Misaki's face intently. "You have dark circles under your eyes." "Two hours of sleep produces this. In my previous life, I once stayed awake for forty-eight hours, so comparatively, this is excellent." "I don't think that's excellent at all... Um, what is a 'flag'?" Aira tilted her head. Silver hair flowed from her shoulders. Misaki thought for a moment, then rephrased. "An 'overwork death flag' is a term from my previous world—a sign before collapse, so to speak. Since I slept two hours, I'm fine for now." "I don't think you're fine." It was said flatly. Aira was fundamentally honest. She spoke her thoughts without circumlocution. That directness had startled Misaki at first, but now she appreciated it. She bit into the bread. Crisp outside, soft inside. The castle kitchen's bread was quality. She took a sip of mountain mead. A sweetness that suited the morning air. Beyond the window, the autumn sky stretched clear and bright. Felthain—the capital of the Luminous Kingdom, a fortress city built on hills upstream of the Felm River—was waking quietly. Distant merchant voices carried from Markt Street in the old quarter. The sound of smithing. Horse hooves. The sounds of daily life slowly opening their eyes within the stone castle walls. The door rattled. Clatter-clatter. No. The corridor. Running footsteps approached. Aira's expression changed. Her smile vanished, her right hand touching the short sword at her waist. A guard's reflex. Misaki set down her pen. The door burst open. A mud-covered soldier stood in the doorway. Soil packed into the gaps of his armor, a scrape on his cheek. Breathing hard, one hand on his knee. "Portos Harbor—it's the Imperial Army. Early this morning, approximately eight thousand troops surrounded the port." The sweet scent of mountain mead still lingered in the air. Misaki stood and pulled the map toward her. --- The war room of the North Barracks—Nordkazerne, the main facility of the standing army garrisoned in Felthain's new northern quarter—was already filled with officers. Reon stood before the map. His deep chestnut short hair caught a hint of red in the morning light. Golden eyes fixed on the map, the royal family crest earring in his left ear glinting. He hadn't donned his armor yet, but his stance carried a soldier's center of gravity. When Misaki entered, only his gaze turned toward her. "Your analysis?" No greeting. That was this prince's habit. Misaki spread the map and laid out the received information in order. The Imperial Army's eight-thousand-strong position. The simultaneous deployment of port blockade and land encirclement. The time the report arrived and the fastest march speed if the Imperial forces had crossed the Volg Mountains—the massive range that bisected the continent north and south. "It's not a feint," Misaki said quietly. "Eight thousand is too large a number for a feint. Considering the effort to establish supply lines, a mobilization of this scale requires at least three weeks of preparation. Portos isn't the target—Portos is the entrance." The officers stirred. Reon didn't lift his eyes from the map. His finger pressed the location of Pasveek—the mountain pass through the Volg range within Luminous territory. The movement held no hesitation. He was already calculating tactics while listening to her analysis. "Three hundred elite troops. We move now." "Your Highness—" "Large forces stretch supply lines. In this terrain, maneuverability wins." The logic was sound. Misaki understood. The Pasveek pass was narrow. In terrain with a minimum width of five meters—barely two cart widths—numerical superiority could become a liability. "Leave the capital's support operations to you." That statement, soft yet absolute, stopped Misaki's breath. (I know. Logically, it's correct.) Supply planning, information consolidation and analysis, resource redistribution. That was the best work Misaki could do now. She couldn't accomplish anything by stepping onto the battlefield herself. She knew. And yet something caught in her chest. A dull, restless sensation. --- Before the castle gate, the morning light churned with activity. Three hundred elite troops assembled, horses pawed the ground, armor clinked. Reon sat astride his horse. In the morning sunlight, his golden eyes gazed into the distance. The face of someone before deployment. The eyes of a man heading to war. Aira stood beside him. Misaki had come to the castle gate as well. Reon turned his horse toward them. For just a moment, his golden gaze rested on Misaki. "Three days. I'll be back." He spoke it short and definitive. Misaki answered in a businesslike tone. "I'll secure the second supply route. I'll also calculate an alternate path in case the Grentzaha Fortress route is blocked." Reon nodded. He moved his horse forward. Then Misaki spoke to his back. "Be careful." She was surprised at herself. It was different from her usual reports and analysis—something had seeped into her voice. She realized it only after speaking. Reon's back stilled for a moment. He turned. Golden eyes met hers. He said nothing. He simply urged his horse forward. The hoofbeats receded. Three hundred elite troops followed. Dust rose and scattered on the wind. Misaki watched his back disappear. "Misaki-san," Aira said beside her. Her voice sounded slightly cheerful. "Your face isn't red, is it?" "It's the dust," Misaki answered immediately. "I don't think there's that much dust..." "There is." (I know it myself.) It wasn't the dust. She knew. But acknowledging it now felt somehow wrong. --- The reports began in the afternoon. The first message was: "Advance proceeding smoothly." Misaki spread the map in her office and marked the Imperial Army's position each time a report arrived. Aira helped organize the dispatches beside her, gathering the parchments in order while keeping her silver hair from falling across the desk. When the second candle had burned halfway down, the second report came. "The vanguard has engaged an Imperial detachment in the valley before the pass." Misaki's pen stopped. She studied the map. The valley before Pasveek. If an Imperial detachment was hidden in this terrain— (Can we bypass it?) She began calculating immediately. The detour route's travel time, the horses' stamina, how many hours until sunset. Aira pulled the map closer and pointed to an alternate route. "This path—" The third report arrived. The messenger's face was pale this time. "The alternate route is also blocked. The Imperial Army appears to have known the advance routes in advance." Misaki's hand froze, pen still held. Known in advance. (Where did it leak from?) Kasiesu was already in custody. Under house arrest for a week, cut off from outside contact. Then who? Gais's final sentence rang in her mind again. —The provincial governors are not alone. Aira's face was draining of color beside her. Her aquamarine eyes fixed on the map, her lips pressed tight. She was trying to say something, then stopped. The sun set. The fourth report arrived near midnight. The moment the messenger opened the door, Misaki knew from his face alone. "Prince Reon and his three hundred are surrounded in the valley south of the pass. Supply lines cut. Escape impossible." The air in the room changed. Aira made a small sound—"Ah"—then fell silent. Her aquamarine eyes trembled. She sat motionless in her chair, both hands on her knees. Misaki looked at the map. The ink lines on the parchment marked the valley south of the pass. The number three hundred was trapped in that narrow terrain. Supply lines cut. Escape impossible. Her hand trembled slightly, still holding the pen. (Calm down.) She told herself. Emotion wouldn't change anything. Do what you can now. That was her way. "What do we do?" Aira's voice was small. The usual brightness was gone. Misaki couldn't answer immediately. She stared at the map, aware of her trembling hands. This wasn't a calculation error or logical failure. The question surfaced quietly but certainly: was it enough to sit here in the capital looking at maps? (I know. There's nothing I can do on the battlefield now.) She knew. But. Something in her chest ached sharply. The fact that Reon was trapped in that valley cut deeper than she'd expected. --- The office at midnight held only one lamp. Aira had said "I'll rest now" and left. Before going, she'd said once more, "Please rest a little too, Misaki-san." Her voice was lower than usual, tinged with exhaustion. Misaki remained alone. She arranged the map and the Gais Documents Volume Ten side by side. She placed the day's Imperial Army reports beside them and reorganized all the information that had arrived. She thought. Why Portos Harbor. The timing of the encirclement. The leak of advance routes. These three points, when connected, formed a shape. With Kasiesu unable to act, the Imperial Army had known the advance routes beforehand. Calculating backward from the preparation time, the information had leaked before or around Kasiesu's capture, or perhaps even earlier. If Gais's final sentence was true, someone was still moving. (Who?) She didn't yet allow herself to think of a name. No evidence. Naming someone on speculation alone would be what Kasiesu had done to her. She moved her pen. Arranged numbers. Reca