Chapter 7: Rescue

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Other soldiers might be useless, but Robin was different—he was a war hero, a recipient of the Silver Wing Medal. If he were to do something like that...
Balbo dared not even imagine the consequences.
“Even in a genuine duel, the opponent could easily toy with Robin until he perished. The result would be a surge in enemy morale, the people losing faith in you and your army, and our own forces demoralized. Although absolute strength determines the course of war, there’s no need to sacrifice our prestige.”

Currently, the entire Black Mountain Army was stationed not far from Volsini City. The barracks echoed with laughter and cheer as soldiers happily shared their lunch rations—canned food, meat sauce noodles, and cheesy bacon pasta.

In the hidden command center, everyone was busy at their posts, their faces devoid of any despair.

The room where the Duke was now seated was tastefully decorated. Several medieval paintings and sculptures were arranged with great care. The masterpieces on the walls bore no hint of nouveau riche ostentation. The oddly shaped desk, the switchboard, communication pipes, the tasteful wool carpet, the high-backed chair, and a well-used bookshelf—though the dust on the books suggested they hadn’t been touched recently—while the steam rifle and saber hanging nearby looked as if they were frequently used...

In short, this office was not hastily put together.

Normally, a defeated army would have dispirited soldiers, grim-faced commanders, and makeshift rooms lacking any aesthetic appeal.

“Hm.” Duke Benito nodded slightly, his expression as calm and deep as still water.

To be honest, Benito had some appreciation for Robin’s talent.

He didn’t have a particularly deep impression of the man, only knowing that he had enlisted not long ago, always fought the most dangerous battles, and was an excellent sniper who handled mortars well.

However, he seemed somewhat socially awkward, rarely speaking and often just grunting “Ura Ura” while gesturing.

According to reports, he was fortunate in misfortune—his speech impediment had improved?

“Such a man does deserve saving, but...” Duke Benito hesitated.

Mobilizing the forces of Volsini City to save Robin would likely cost many lives.

“Your Grace, saving him has other advantages.” Balbo noticed Benito’s wavering resolve but sensed his reluctance to endanger Volsini’s underground network, so he took it upon himself to perform his duty as an aide.

A competent aide knows how to instill confidence when the duke lacks it and provide additional reasons when the duke is tempted but hesitant.

“What advantages?” Duke Benito asked.

“If we rescue him, it would serve as excellent political propaganda, demonstrating our spirit of never abandoning or forsaking anyone,” Balbo explained. “This would greatly boost recruitment and soldier morale.”

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“We can even release some of Robin’s positive interviews, especially the one where he said, ‘If the Duke sees this report, please write that you must never risk yourself for me, never save me—I do not want anyone to sacrifice themselves on my behalf.’”

“His bravery and loyalty to Your Grace are clear, and such loyalty deserves to be rewarded.”

“If our soldiers ever find themselves surrounded in battle, recalling what the Duke did for Robin will inspire them to fight until their last breath, keeping a seed of hope alive rather than surrendering.”

Duke Benito leaned back in his chair, his bear-like frame sinking into the padded backrest, which creased under the pressure.

He clipped a cigar, lit it, placed it in his mouth, and elegantly exhaled a plume of smoke.

He was deep in thought. Balbo did not interrupt or press him for a decision.

A good aide knows when to speak and when to keep silent.

“Hm, save the man.” Benito finally said after two minutes of contemplation.

His gaze fixed on one report, focusing on a statement Robin made:

“Even if I lose, when the Duke’s troops see my courage and valor, it will only boost their morale and make them understand that the Duke’s soldiers are no cowards! Their hearts will ignite with the fire of vengeance!”

This man might well become a model soldier.

After all, many recipients of the Silver Wing Medal were brave but lacked intellect.

Few possess courage, combat ability, and eloquence all at once.

If he were to show his exceptional oratory skills during pre-battle mobilization, the effect could be unexpectedly powerful.

...

At the same time, in Volsini City, Roland’s Painting Studio branch, basement level one.

Dunn sat on a somewhat hard chair, his tailcoat and top hat hanging not far behind him on a coat rack. He wore a shirt, vest, trousers, and polished shoes, looking every bit the refined gentleman.

He appeared to be around forty years old, his expression stern, blue eyes sharp as an eagle’s, and his brown short hair impeccably combed.

He sat at the end of a long table, fingers lightly tapping on the surface as he silently observed the four others seated along the table.

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One of them kept his head down, as if wishing to bury it in the table.

“This man, if I recall correctly, was brought to us from Delos,” Dunn stopped tapping and looked at the man with his head bowed. A stack of newspapers lay before him.

All these papers shared a common theme: reports about Robin.

“In my memory, he should be dead.” Dunn’s gaze hardened. “A failed experiment—why is he still alive? And how did he become a war hero?”

“Is the organization’s funding too sparse? So poor they can’t even afford bullets?”

“Sir...” The man with his head down forced an awkward smile. “Sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry to me. Those who say sorry are the ones who have failed me.” Dunn narrowed his eyes.

“When he left, he should have been mentally broken and incapable of betraying us...” The man cautiously explained, “Headquarters issued a new mission: to create as many examples as possible of Delos personnel dying accidentally in the Anzio Kingdom.”

“I thought all these shootings were a bit too implausible...”

“We tested a new drug on him to see how long he could survive...”

“I—I don’t know why he’s still alive.”

“I’ll look into it immediately...”

Slap!

Before he could finish, a stack of newspapers was slapped onto his face.

The man lowered his head further, completely unable to resist.

“Look into it? Is that the problem right now? The problem is that he’s still alive! Don’t forget, besides Delos people, there are also Anzio nationals here.” Dunn’s eyes blazed. “If he reveals our secrets in public, we’ll be at a disadvantage!”

“Sir, he... probably wouldn’t, right?” a woman cautiously probed. “He hasn’t spoken up despite such an opportunity.”