Sincere Cooperation

Brendan's footsteps faded at the far end of the corridor outside the command post. The heavy wooden door slowly swung shut, sealing away the noise and bustle of the outside world.

Inside the spacious command post, only Karl remained, along with the dim yellow light cast by the whale-oil chandelier, swaying faintly in the airflow.

Karl slowly lowered himself into the main seat that had once belonged to Bragi, covered in rough wolfskin.

The back was hard and the armrests cold, carrying the fierce and... desperate aura of its former owner, which had yet to fully dissipate.

He leaned against the backrest, closed his eyes, and drew a deep breath. The air was thick with a complex mixture of gunpowder, blood, damp wood, and the faint, unmistakable musk of the Sauron people.

An indescribable weariness surged through him like a tide, but more than that, he felt a deep mental weariness born of having grown old before his time.

He realized that he had indeed changed, becoming someone even he found somewhat unfamiliar.

If the Karl of a year ago—the newly arrived traveler who had still been ignorant and innocent about this world—had achieved such a glorious victory and received a promise of wholehearted aid from a powerful ally like Earl Rochefort, he would probably have felt nothing but immense relief, gratitude, and unconditional trust.

He would have simply believed that the Earl was a good man, a generous elder, and a solid backer he could rely on completely.

Yet in the span of just one year, war, death, schemes, betrayal, alliances, and calculation... all of it had tempered his mind again and again, like the fiercest flames and the coldest hammer.

His age might have increased by only one year, but psychologically, it was as if he had traveled