"Someone might think the war is over."

The spacious room, filled with ornately decorated furniture, was permeated with the sweet yet tangy scent of cinnamon. Nikephoros removed his helmet, placing it on the desk, and gazed out the window where torchlight flickered. He noticed women with tightly wrapped headscarves distributing stew to soldiers.

'I can't waste time idly.'

Given the circumstances, tonight would likely remain peaceful. He could leave the wall defenses to the stratios and return to the fortress to assist the Princess without any issues.

That left Nikephoros with only one decision to make: [How to respond to their hospitality.]

After briefly crossing his arms in contemplation, Nikephoros sank into the window sofa with a soft groan.

'I can't simply reject their hospitality... Hmm?'

His gaze suddenly shifted toward the bookshelf. Among the tightly packed hardcovers, one small book particularly caught his eye. It was awkwardly protruding, showing signs of frequent use.

Clearly the servants who tidied the room had failed to place it properly. Whether it was a mistake or due to haste, he couldn't tell.

Nikephoros's bookworm instincts activated, and he rose from his seat as if entranced, approaching the bookshelf.

'This is... a diary.'

The writing inside was surprisingly neat Hellenic. Nikephoros suddenly recalled that the Alexandria Governor's wife came from a local Alexandrian family.

Reminded of the Princess's face, Nikephoros quickly flipped through the diary. Soon enough, he found the last page dated just yesterday.

'My husband said tomorrow is the day...'

The diary entry was filled with desperate accounts of preparing to evacuate with the children, along with fierce curses against the greedy Roman invaders. Following this was a brief note about valuable items buried somewhere in the backyard that they couldn't take with them.

'Hmm...?'

But what caught Nikephoros's attention wasn't the fierce curses against Romans or the location of buried treasures.

[So I comforted my sobbing son, saying, 'Don't cry, Naser. Father has a plan.' My poor boy.]

Something about the word "plan" in that passage unsettled Nikephoros. Thinking there might be more information about this "plan," he skimmed through the earlier pages before finally closing the diary and looking up at the ceiling.

'A plan...'

Of course, it could simply be empty words to comfort a child. What wouldn't a parent say to console a crying child who didn't want to leave?

But if it truly was a lie, wouldn't it have been more natural to say, "We'll be able to return soon," rather than "Father has a plan"? This question lingered in Nikephoros's mind. At least, that's what he would have told his own son.

'An ambush? It could be a surprise attack... Well, I suppose even a frontal assault could be called a "plan."'

Lost in thought again, Nikephoros closed his eyes and began to imagine various possibilities.

'...There's too little to go on.'

But it was nearly impossible to predict what would happen based on just those two words: "a plan." Suddenly feeling stifled, Nikephoros sighed deeply and headed toward the door.

'I should go for a walk.'

Opening the door, he was greeted by a pitch-dark corridor without a single torch. But this wasn't a problem. When he was guided here earlier, he had already perfectly mapped the second floor's layout in his mind.

He instinctively turned left and stepped into the darkness. If he went out the main entrance, that old man would likely approach him again. Right now, he wanted to get some fresh air alone, without anyone's interference.

"...so will this really end the war?"

"Yes, that's why we must capture them alive, no matter what."

'...?'

At that moment, faint whispering voices brushed past his ears. Nikephoros, who had been walking slowly down the corridor, unconsciously stopped.

The whispers were coming from behind an old, shabby wooden door about five steps ahead. Instinctively, Nikephoros hid against the wall and carefully approached the door.

"But what if Rome refuses to negotiate?"

"No, Rome will have no choice but to negotiate. Stop with the useless talk and just prepare the equipment."

"Even so... if Rome says there will be no negotiation and uses force, we're all dead men."

"That won't happen! Just shut up! What if someone hears us?"

"Come on, as if there's a soldier in there who understands Coptic?"

Ironically, there was indeed an intellectual soldier outside the door who understood Coptic. And that soldier now had his hand firmly placed on his sword hilt, his expression hardened.

'Could that be the "plan" they mentioned?'

Nikephoros sensed that something ominous was unfolding.

※※

"It's quiet... too quiet!"

"Isn't quiet a good thing?"

"It's suspiciously quiet! Does it make sense that a city the size of Thessalonica would surrender without any resistance?"

To use an analogy, it was like mustering the courage to slap a passing silver elk on the cheek, only for it to smile without showing any reaction. Every moment spent waiting for the expected response felt as precarious as walking on thin ice.

"This won't do. I'll go see for myself."

Finally unable to bear it any longer, I stood up and adjusted my clothes. Haakon gasped "Ack!" and hurriedly blocked the doorway.

"You can't! You're planning to walk through a city we haven't even fully secured yet?"

"There must be a path the marines who landed first have already taken. I'll just follow that."

If there had been an ambush, it would have been discovered by now. It's not like they have cloaking technology in this era.

"Didn't you promise the Doux? That this time you would absolutely remain in the rear!"

Haakon shook his head with all his might.

"Then I'll just take some soldiers with me!"

I retorted firmly as I walked past Haakon. Not daring to lay hands on me, he hesitated before finally making way.

"If anything happens to the Princess, I'm truly dead..."

Haakon followed behind me with an almost tearful expression. Instead of answering, I just snorted and quickened my pace toward the outside of the ship.

"Your Highness?"

Uncle John, who had been talking with his adjutants right in front of the command ship, immediately approached upon seeing me. I gave a slight nod and went straight to the point.

"Is Heraklios, the resistance leader, at the governor's residence as reported?"

"Yes, that's what was written in the Doux's letter."

"I'll be going there."

"Pardon?"

With a puzzled expression, my uncle looked at Haakon. I turned away from them both and approached the soldiers who were unloading horses from the transport ship.

"Um, Your Highness."

"Continue with your work. By the way, where is Specialweek?"

"S-Specialweek is on another ship."

Specialweek, is it... They must be quite nervous.

Anyway, if Specialweek wasn't available, there was nothing to be done. I nodded and approached Haakon, who was being lectured by Uncle John.

"Let's walk."

"Pardon?"

"Or we could run."

Haakon looked at Uncle John with an expression that said he didn't know what to do. My uncle shrugged with a resigned expression.

A moment later, Haakon sighed and turned to me.

"I'll take you there myself."

"You'll carry me? Are you sure that's okay?"

"Okay?"

"Nikephoros won't like it."

I didn't mind, but Nikephoros was always the issue. Haakon shrugged and answered as if resigned.

"I trust you'll explain it well to him."

"I'll tell him you forced me to ride behind you."

"Haah..."

As Haakon closed his eyes tightly, Uncle John chuckled and added:

"According to the scouts' reports, there are no unusual circumstances in the city. Please be careful."

He bowed respectfully, and I returned a slight nod.

Shortly after, Haakon brought a sturdy horse, and I mounted it with his assistance.

"It's been a while since I rode behind you like this."

"Indeed it has."

"Did you miss it?"

"Haah..."

Where had that boisterous Viking of old gone? He made a disgusted expression. Nikephoros must have given him quite a hard time.

I chuckled and patted Haakon's back.

"You must be really afraid of Nikephoros?"

"Of course I am."

Haakon glanced at me sideways and continued.

"Besides, I'm a much more decent man than you think, Your Highness."

"Decent?"

"I mean I don't make advances on married women."

"Hmm? For someone who says that, you were quite persistent for a long time."

"Back then you weren't a marr— well, you were married, but I mean..."

Haakon mumbled awkwardly before shaking his head as if giving up.

"To begin with, Your Highness isn't my type."

"Wow... that's a completely pathetic excuse."

"It's true. Actually, you were the one who first gave me the impression—"

Haakon, about to say more, firmly closed his mouth. Then, as if wanting to change the subject, he pivoted the conversation.

"What will you do if His Excellency isn't at the governor's residence?"

"What can I do? I'll just meet Heraklios and return."

"You won't go to the walls?"

"Of course not. I'm not going to see Nikephoros anyway."

I simply wanted to see firsthand how the situation was unfolding. I would need to meet and greet Heraklios, the leader of the Coptic resistance, face to face anyway.

"Hmm, is that so?"

Haakon nodded with a somewhat unconvinced expression. After that, only ordinary conversation passed between us. Wanting warm food, being thankful for the warm weather—just trivial matters.

After some time had passed, bright torchlight began to flicker beyond the dim alleyway.

"That large building in the distance is the governor's residence."

As Haakon slowed the horse, an adjutant who had been following quickly approached to point out our destination. I nodded and spoke.

"There seem to be quite a lot of people gathered?"

"Oh... indeed there are."

The adjutant, who had been staring intently at the governor's residence, scratched the back of his head.

"Should I go ahead and check first?"

"No, let's all go together."

If Muslims had appeared, that "phrase" calling upon Allah would certainly have been audible from here.

At my answer, Haakon increased the horse's pace again.

And shortly after, when we reached a point about 50 meters from the governor's residence, we could finally clearly hear the murmuring of men holding torches.

"Put away the fire arrows! Are you trying to burn the bishop to death too?"

Something... something serious was clearly happening.