“Sharon. You must be subjected to punishment for your sins against the Freiyan army.”
After their fight with Althos, the Knights of the First Order set up a camp in the neutral zone for the evening. Sharon was brought in front of a quasi-court in the commander’s tent.
“Do you admit to aiding the escape of King Alnoa?” Ranbolg asked, seated behind a desk with both his legs propped up on it. Sharon, surrounded by soldiers on both sides with her arms restrained, simply nodded in response. She didn’t even feel like playing dumb; she simply wanted to get this over with.
“Our attack squadron hasn’t suffered a single casualty, but they were deeply traumatized by what happened. For any normal soldier, the damage you caused to our country would spell certain execution!”
Well, it was you who ordered the pursuit despite the clear chance of an ambush! She glared at Ranbolg, but he didn’t seem to mind it at all.
“Right. I’ll accept your punishment once we get back.” Sharon averted her gaze from Ranbolg in a theatrical fashion and sulked, expecting a merciless beating once they made their way back to Freiya.
“That would come much too late. We have to increase the morale of our troops before we invade Althos!”
“Huh? ‘Invade Althos’?” Sharon couldn’t believe her ears.
“You said you wouldn’t attack Althos if I went back home with you! Are you going to break your promise!? Let me carry my own sins; leave Althos out of it!” she berated him, still looking away.
“True, I did promise that. But we were attacked by Althos’s king himself. As the prince of Freiya, I can’t let such impudence go unnoticed.” Ranbolg trampled over their promise like it was nothing. “Not to mention that their king is now deceased. Even if he did somehow survive, he’ll need time to recover. This is the perfect chance for an invasion.”
Ranbolg was right. He may have not been aware of the Demon King’s regeneration powers, but he was very aware of the fragility of a country without a leader.
“I already sent a messenger to Althos with a declaration of war. I sentence you to the whip. We are confiscating your sword, stripping you of your status as a Diva, and sending you to solitary confinement with your tent under twenty-four-hour surveillance. Your punishment will go into effect the moment we finish with the preparations. Now, let’s get to work!”
Sharon was more worried about their war with Althos than her own punishment. She stole a glance at Ranbolg, only to be met with his lascivious glare.