Unmotivated Hero’s Tale (WN)

Clear skies and crystal-clear blue waters, and countless convoys rushing through the sea plains.

That was precisely the first sight to spread over the Strait of La Mantier in hundreds of years.

Officially, informally combined, extremely small business deals, etc. continue today. It was not until, however, when such a large convoy crossed this sea, once called the Dark War.

And in the middle of such a fleet, there are sailboats that are one turn larger than the others.

"Captain, is there anything behind us in our fleet?

In his office, which was small but prepared on board, Franz, commanding the Britonian army, utters a tight voice while sitting on a chair.

Then Watto, the captain who visited this room for a report, opened his mouth dignified after bowing his head gently.

"No. As of right now, we have no problem with the first row. I wonder if we can make it to the port of Le Aeg as planned."

"Right. Fine then."

After receiving the report as planned, Franz nods once satisfactorily. And as I put my legs together, I opened that mouth again.

"Well, in any case, I'll leave the ship to you. If you don't have a problem, keep going as planned."

Copy that, sir.

When he replies, Watto walks away from the room in a refreshing manner.

I just dropped it off, and Marianne, Franz's deputy, slowly opened its limbic mouth.

"Apparently, this is as planned."

"Oh, not so far."

Without turning a gaze toward Marianne, Franz returns his words with a strict expression.

A reaction that doesn't usually seem too appealing to his subordinates, despite his loving superiors. Marianne, uncomfortable with it, questioned her superior officer.

"Is there any concern as well?

"I'm sorry, I guess I made you worry. No, it's not like I'm particularly concerned. Just..."

Turning to Franz, who interrupted the words with a sinister look on his face, Marianne urges ahead.

"Just?"

"I'm just wondering if the people waiting at the arrivals can really be trusted... there's some anxiety there."

With that Franz word, Marianne finally understands the superior officer's concerns.

"Is it Lord Blau, the four Grand Dukes of his country, who effectively controls Le Aeg..."

"Exactly. Put something capable in a key position. Unlike Our Majesty, who believes in it, they seek to move the future of the country only by blood. Even though we have a deal, I'm anxious to see if we can really get our hands on them."

"Indeed, I originally saw something like their treat, also in the letter of the covenant"

An agreement concluded in confidence with the House of Lords during this invasion of Clarice.

The texts exchanged with each other at that time were imbued with the arrogance of their clarisian nobility.

Meanwhile, Franz, recalling the text she had spoken of, slowly turns that gaze towards Marianne as she exhales a small sigh with a slight nagging addition or subtraction.

"Oh, you're not right. But the condition that the landing operation can be carried out intact is so fascinating that it cannot be replaced by anything else. No matter how concerned you are, and how dirty their hands are, you have to shake hands. I can't replace the lives of my men."

"An unwanted handshake is also unavoidable..."

When I said so, Marianne sighed out a small sigh as well.

Originally nothing more than a single citizen, she is the one found in Franz in front of her and now elevated to the position of deputy secretary of this large unit.

Therefore, the idea of Clarice's House of Lords, which weighs blood muscles above all else, was by no means incompatible with her own.

That's how silence came to the narrow indoors, and suddenly when the door to the room was knocked, the voices of the guards who were keeping them waiting outside sounded.

"Commander Franz. I see a boy aboard as a companion."

For a moment, Franz wrinkled between his eyebrows when he heard a soggy word on the occasion. But if he immediately floats the appropriate person in his brain, he gives permission to enter.

"Boy?... Oh, you mean him. Please come in."

As Franz's voice sounded outside the room, the cabin door slowly opened after a beat.

And from there, a luxurious silver-haired boy appears as if he is incompatible with this military ship.

"Hey, the sailing seems to be going well."

"Yes, our army is on track as planned. So how did it go, Lord Zeth?

Franz turns to the boy in front of him and asks for the purpose of his visit, consciously striving to treat him equally.

Then the boy loosened his cheeks slightly, and a girl his age gave him a grin that seemed to grab his heart in an instant.

"Hey, we don't have any excellent ships so far in our country. So, because of this, I was hoping that I could take a look around a little bit, and I came to ask for permission to do so."

"It is. Well, you're free to look around until you get there."

With an effort and a calm look on his face, Franz answers as he turns to the boy in front of him.

Then Zeth grinned as if she were an angel, and inquired in an invisible voice of joy.

"Are you sure it's good?

"Yes, it would be helpful if you refrained from anything that would just interfere with the operation of the crew."

"Of course it is. Mr. Franz, no, thank you, Commander Franz"

When he says so, the silver-haired pretty boy leaves the room with a light foothold.

As such, the moment the cabin door was closed, Marianne's frightened voice was directed towards Franz.

"Commander, aren't you too reluctant to treat such a child, even though it is because of how many Turenian envoys he is?

"I know what you're trying to say. But it is an indisputable fact that he is a messenger from Turkmenistan. That's why we can't treat you unhindered. I don't care how you look like a child. And..."

"And?"

As usual, Franz's words were interrupted, and Marianne urges him ahead.

Franz then slowly shook his neck left and right.

"No, it's probably my overthought. Never mind."

When said so, Franz reassembles his legs and then slowly sighs out.

Seeing Franz like that, Marianne accidentally put her hand between her eyebrows. And after much troubling, considering the inner heart of Britonian columnist superiors in front of her, she quits mouthing that topic any further.

Instead, she uttered the name of the mysterious beautiful boy who had just left.

"Zeth Christopher, the youngest Cardinal of Turmenia…?"