"Tsk, tsk, tsk!" Roland smacked his lips, suddenly feeling that Marquis Al-Teglang-Franz had made a great deal of sense. If Aragorn showed his face in Gondor at this point in time, it would basically be no different from suicide. Did you think those rotten nobles of Gondor would want another father sitting over their heads right now?
This was no longer the era when Denethor II governed with vigor and discipline. How rotten the nobles of Rohan and Gondor were could be seen just by looking at the battle lines. After all, battle reports could lie, but battle lines could not. Just look at that front, pushed into jagged teeth by the Orcs all the way through, and you could tell that the battlefield where those noble lords waved flags and shouted without obstruction had in fact been shifting deeper and deeper into the kingdom all along...
"Let's leave that aside for now. When the time comes, we'll find a chance to fool him! That kid is sharp as a fox. He definitely won't run off to Gondor using his real name!" Roland said with certainty. After all, even when Aragorn finally went south to gain experience, he had remembered to use another name. He had worked in both Rohan and Gondor, and because he had not used his real name, the Gondorian nobles had not quibbled with him either. Although Gondor at this period was rotten to the core, its intelligence capability was still that of a great power; at the very least, Gondor's high nobles knew Aragorn's background. They simply let him serve the Steward—which was even more absurd. The king who, according to prophecy, would restore the Reunited Kingdom was working for his own little brother...
In the end, Aragorn, who had finally leveled himself to the