118.

The sea witch was helping them? Naturally, her mind immediately turned to Calypso. It felt as if a thick fog had suddenly lifted. At that moment, it became certain that the witch was deeply involved—here, there, everywhere.

But if Calypso was on Nick’s side, why had she asked for him to be eliminated? Was trusting her really the right choice? Their conversation had flowed too quickly for her to fully grasp.

“The Crown Prince of Esperanda seems to hold considerable resentment toward the young admiral.”

“Nobles who are popular among commoners are rare indeed.”

“In any case, I’ll arrange it within a few days. As you said, this isn’t the time to hesitate over means or methods.”

“……It should suffice if you send it at the right moment.”

Ro jolted forward instinctively. What? What did they say? It sounded like some kind of ore, but it was a completely unfamiliar word she’d never heard before—so strange it didn’t even register in her mind. After that, voices fell silent for a while.

They seemed to continue their conversation through sign language or written notes. For a time, all she could hear was the sound of a match striking and the sharp scent of cigar smoke stinging her nostrils. The duke finally spoke again.

“Then consider it settled. As soon as the deal is complete, we’ll join forces immediately.”

“Agreed.”

“At most, two months. After that, as promised, our commanding officers will withdraw from the front lines. More than half of the regular troops will retreat as well.”

“Even so, the odds of victory will still exceed seventy percent—if the sea witch remains cooperative. No one can track through the fog she casts.”

“I’m not asking for the Imperial Princess. Just bring me the young admiral’s head. With that alone, our sovereign will generously grant titles or honors. A new era for a new noble house will begin.”

“I’ll do my best.”

The duke, who had been puffing cigar smoke for a while, pulled his chair and stood up. The sound of it scraping the floor echoed.

“When will you depart?”

“It’ll take at least a week until everything is loaded.”

“I’ll send a few soldiers to guard the perimeter. Don’t delay the rendezvous.”

“It’ll probably take about a week until we meet again. That is, assuming you haven’t lost your entire Tilsen navy by then.”

“Don’t be absurd. Very well. We’ll meet on the battlefield.”

* * *

After that, Ro was once again confined to the bedroom. Nick must have vaguely noticed she had woken up during a meal. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been so reckless with the drugs. The substance he used on her seemed to be a type of sedative—applied to a needle and injected into her arm, sending her straight into unconsciousness. It was likely the same one she’d been injected with when first captured.

Whenever she woke, Daisy would bring a simple meal and attend to her. Exactly thirty minutes later, Nick would arrive and inject another dose of the sedative into her arm. She could no longer distinguish night from day, or even feel time passing. She had no idea whether two days had passed since the banquet or three.

“Ah, miss….”

Ro faintly opened her eyes at the hand gently shaking her awake. It must have been around the time the sedative wore off. As Daisy opened the window, sunlight poured in. Ro grimaced and crawled sluggishly under the blanket. Her body, soaked in drugs, felt limp and weak, her head pounding painfully. Damn it, Nick, you damn bastard. If you’re going to use drugs, at least use decent ones. Clearly, you didn’t consider a single side effect.

“C-Can you get up, m-miss?”

“I’ll get up… I will… Just close that window first….”

“S-Sorry.”

Startled, Daisy quickly shut the window. Ro collapsed like someone suffering from a severe hangover. Daisy fluffed a cushion behind her back and wiped her arms, legs, and face with a clean damp cloth.

“That’s enough. Now….”

“Y-You should eat s-something too.”

The porridge was nearly translucent, like water, with small pieces of vegetables and meat floating inside. Ro forced herself to push through the drug’s effects and managed a few spoonfuls to conserve strength. No matter how dire the situation, it wasn’t as bad as Kirgos’s prison—and even there, she’d endured for over a month. Here, she could sleep on a soft bed, so it wasn’t the worst.

Ro set down the half-empty bowl and asked,

“How much time has passed since I last woke up?”

“A-Around nine hours.”

Daisy glanced anxiously toward the door and added,

“T-The captain will be here s-soon. The guard went to report before he comes in.”

Nine hours. The drug’s effects were inconsistent, but usually lasted between eight and twelve hours. According to Daisy, it had initially lasted about twelve hours, but now she was waking up after only nine. Her body was building tolerance faster than expected. Oddly so. As she looked down at her arm, covered in bruises from repeated needle pricks, Daisy fidgeted and shrank into herself.

“I-I-I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I w-want to help you e-escape, b-but I really….”

“This isn’t your fault. Don’t feel guilty. I mean it.”

Ro firmly stroked Daisy’s head. She had won people’s affection before, and betrayed many to their faces—but Ro had always been weak when it came to children. Especially girls as fragile as Daisy, someone she could snap with one hand. Blushing, Daisy lowered her head and pulled something from her pocket.

“H-Here.”

“What’s this…? Is it ointment?”

“Y-Yes. Your arm has bruises from the needles….”

Daisy glanced at Ro’s arm, marred with injection marks, and continued. Ro opened the container and sniffed. It smelled of crushed mint and several other herbs. Faintly, she detected cycla—a plant that promoted alertness when applied behind the ears. It wilted immediately after being picked, so outside of dried forms, it was rarely seen at sea.

“Where did you get this?”

“A s-sailor merchant came t-today. I bought it c-cheap.”

At Daisy’s words, a faint spark of hope flickered in Ro’s eyes. Without thinking, she grabbed the girl’s arm.

“We haven’t sailed yet! We’re still in Dortredain, right?!”

Daisy visibly flinched at Ro’s sudden exclamation. She nervously glanced toward the door, as if worried her voice had been overheard. The girl whispered timidly.

“Y-Yes.”

Ro tapped her chin, thinking briefly.

“You said you’re allowed to come and go freely, right?”

Daisy widened her eyes and nodded.

“If so, could you do me just one favor? It’s not dangerous. I just need you to send one carrier pigeon.”

“M-Messenger pigeon?”

“The message will be ordinary, and the sender listed as a civilian—nothing suspicious. But if you think it’s too risky, don’t do it. It’s your choice.”

Ro released her grip on Daisy’s arm. It was disappointing, but she couldn’t force her. If caught, Daisy would be the one in danger. If Daisy helped, things would go more smoothly—but even without her help, word of her capture would eventually reach Melvin’s ears. In war, holding a famous figure from the enemy nation as prisoner was enough to crush morale. And if that prisoner bore the name Montrosa, the effect would be even greater.

Daisy didn’t hesitate long. Clenching her fist, the girl answered.

“I-I’ll do a-anything, if it’s s-something I can do.”

* * *

The naval battle dragged on far longer than expected. Bartarelli, Tilsen’s supreme commander, avoided direct confrontation like the old snake he was. His ship maneuvers were extremely cautious. The Tilsen navy didn’t engage actively; instead, at the slightest sign of damage, they often fled in panic. It was as if they were letting Esperanda’s navy freely occupy islands and even coastal areas of Tilsen proper.

At first, they rejoiced at the string of consecutive victories. But after over ten days of such fighting, even Esperanda’s naval command began to feel a subtle sense of unease. Countless Tilsen archipelagos now lay under their control, yet the enemy commander had suffered no critical injuries—barely even a drop of blood lost. It felt as though they were all merely actors in some kind of performance.

As if the sole purpose was to keep their attention fixed on war and sea…

But regardless of the truth, victory tasted sweet, and the outlook remained optimistic. Some were already boasting of their heroic feats like war legends. Amidst this, young Admiral Montrosa remained quietly reserved. The Imperial Princess was the same.

“Lieutenant Hugo Bartolomeu. Are you in?”