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Respect glitters in the eyes of the generals and the trust that had nearly bled away when the Erudian army was on the losing side was replenished in full. Already, heralds from within the tent have gone out to officially announce the news to every soul within the camp, turning the hopeful rumors into a blessed reality. After all, save for the overpowered weapon of the eruptions, the Sarsavalians were never the Erudian Empire’s opponents in the slightest. The map tables have been swept clean of flags, revealing the terrain of the Erudian-Sarsavalian border that shall soon cease to exist.

“Long live the Erudian Empire! Long live Emperor Helio!” I can hear shouts and praises ringing from outside. Ironically, the fanatic cries echoing into the strategy tent remind me a little too much of the fervent prayer sessions with Bishop Duvernay.

Even I, with all the trials and shocks I’ve overcome, have to shake my head in disbelief at the words my father has uttered. The war, always referred to within the webnovel as a terrible event with devastating, long-lasting consequences for the Erudian Empire, is already finished in one summer?

The incredible suffering and loss of life that has already occurred is not lost on me. As the individual who quite literally pulls people out of the jaws of death, the coppery scent of blood is permanently lodged in my nose. There have been soldiers I was too late to save, who died while I was saving another. And then there are those whose bodies I have repaired, but their minds are forever damaged. Foam leaks out of their mouths, their glazed eyes forever reliving a carnage unlike any other.

But still, as I reflect on famously long wars from my history textbooks like the Hundred Year’s War and the Germanic wars, this is barely a drop in the bucket. An impressive feat for the time period, to say the least.

For these generals, victory is something they have long grown accustomed to, especially as a part of the Erudian army which hasn’t lost a war, let alone a battle, in decades. Their cheer dies down, and my father leans forward as he is not finished speaking yet.

.....

“Lord Wolfgang has managed to capture the weaponsmith alive,” he continues with a cheerless grin that resembles a wolf baring its teeth. My heart skips a beat, ice pouring into my veins. When I look at Julian, he can’t help but jolt in his seat before making eye contact with me.

“We have learned much. About our enemies, both known and unknown. As it would turn out, this weaponsmith is not Sarsavalian. Nor is he from any kingdom we have conquered, nor from across the Moor in the Old Continent. He claims to be from another world. And with the evidence we found in his workshop and from his own mouth, I am inclined to believe him.”

The hubbub that had just calmed down was reignited.

“Your Majesty, he must be defrauding you!”

“But to think that such a strange weapon the world had never seen was inflicted in battle, I’m afraid I am inclined to believe this.”

The reactions were mixed, leaning more in my father’s favor rather than against. My grip tightens on the arm of my chair as I struggle to maintain my poker face. Unfortunately, my father isn’t quite finished speaking.

“Most concerning of all, he said that there are more of his kind. People who wear our faces, yet their souls come from a realm beyond our own. Such a danger to our empire is unfathomable,” Emperor Helio proclaimed. For such a solemn man, my father reveals a gift of gab, his few words already riling up the spirits of the decorated generals within the tent.

But it makes sense. As a warmongering emperor famed for his military might and conquest, there must always be an enemy. Otherwise, how can he galvanize the army that serves as his cornerstone of power? It just such a shame that it must quite literally occur at my expense. And I can’t even complain or speak against it as a member of the imperial family.

I wipe my clammy hands on my dress and fear I may fall ill.

“Your highness?” I can’t help it. I jump in my seat, nearly leaping out of it until I see it’s just Harold standing at my shoulder.

He has an honest-looking, nondescript face, the kind that would make the perfect John Doe. It’s eerily polite and practically unreadable, making him the most suitable person to be privy to the emperor’s many secrets.

“My apologies for frightening you. Are you alright?” he apologizes swiftly.

I wave the apology away. “I fear healing soldiers today took more out of me than I realized. I shall retire for the evening,” I reply, patting my chest and heaving out a breath as if I’ve just run a mile.

Harold nods. “I shall inform His Majesty of your departure.”

“No, don’t bother. He is busy enough as is,” I murmur, falling into the unfamiliar role of the dutiful daughter.

It has been strange, to say the least. In my first five years of life, I never met the emperor. Then for a few years, I barely saw him a handful of times and we never spoke. Now, I’ve progressed to seeing my father several times over the past few weeks. As my father, intentionally or not, places a knife against my neck, I realize unironically that the more I encounter Emperor Helio the more danger I entangle myself in.

“Can’t sleep, your highness?” Emma’s voice cuts through the silence that has accompanied me in my insomnia.

“Nah, I’m just thinking,” I answer. Thinking about my dire future.

My body is exhausted, bone-tired, and I’ll have to get up in a few hours to heal more soldiers. But I can’t help but stress over my future. Transmigrators will be public enemy #1. A witch hunt may arise. And I already fulfill the criteria that got me killed within the webnovel.

I don’t know if Peppermint can still interfere in this world but I throw up a silent middle finger for the author nonetheless. In every webnovel I’ve read, transmigrators are never exposed! Or if they are, they’re exposed privately after their love interest has fallen in love with them and doesn’t care in the slightest. But this, this is new! And this is bad! I might as well wash my neck clean for someone to settle a blade on it, that someone being my very own sperm donor.

“You must rest, your highness. The sun will rise very soon,” Emma says. I don’t doubt her as both she and everyone born in this era seem to have an internal clock regarding the time.

“You’re right,” I acquiesce. But it proves to be a sleepless night for me and I feel absolutely plastered as I mechanically shovel breakfast into my mouth.

“Your highness!” Nina exclaims when she sees the dark circles under my eyes.

“I couldn’t sleep from the excitement of the war nearly being over,” I mutter my chosen excuse, although my lifeless demeanor contradicts it.

I nod off twice, once when healing an amputee and the next right into my lunch. Emma diligently wipes the crumbs from my face as I slap my cheeks in an effort to revive myself.

“Why is there no coffee in this godforsaken world!” My voice is muffled as I bury my face into my hands.

“Good question.” My head shoots up as Julian strolls over to where I’ve been shoving down my meal as quickly as I can.

“You, again,” I groan.

To add further to my irritation, Julian ignores my snide comments and looks to my attendants.

“Has she been like this all day?” he asks them.

They all nod except for Emma. Traitors.

Julian puts a hand on his chin and studies me the way a psychiatrist would a patient. After an entire minute of silence, I can’t sit around any longer.

“What?” I eventually snort, subtly checking if there are still any crumbs on my face.

“Yes, yes, I see,” Prince Julian makes a show of rubbing his chin and evaluating me. “If anyone asks, just tell them that the princess is indisposed and cannot see to any patients today.”

And then my caricature of an older brother has the audacity to swoop down and pick up my significantly smaller figure like a sack of potatoes. My body becomes weightless as Julian lifts me with incredible ease. Without so much as a by your leave, he strolls away towards where our tents are located regardless of what I say.

“No, these people need me! Put me down!” I order, wacking my small fists on his buttoned shirt.

“No one needs you when you’re like this,” Julian hisses under his breath, quelling my fists in their path of fruitless destruction.

“Easy for you to say. If you’re ever exposed, House Duvernay has your back,” I counter.

“Will you stop?” Prince Julian’s voice is slightly raised and he stops walking for a second. “Look, with the way the current atmosphere is and all the terror the eruptions have created, House Duvernay would just cut their losses and sacrifice me. Then, in your words, my mother would simply be pregnant again within the span of a year.”

I shut up, my fists falling back to my sides with a sigh.

“You’re right. Can you put me down now?”

“No.” Julian is firm as he continues the walk back to my tent.

“Asshole.”

It isn’t until we are close to the tent that I can speak again.

“So what are the odds you can have a conversation with that weaponsmith? Figure out where he came from, why he introduced bombs to this world, all the works,” I whisper. If someone heard my words, it could be misconstrued as treason.

“Probably as hard as it is to assassinate our father,” he answers with an apt analogy.

This time, we both sigh in unison. The number of assassination attempts that have been leveled against our father probably numbers in the hundreds. Some mistakenly thought that my father’s aura diminishes when he sleeps and tried to sneak in at night only to keel over once they enter his window. Others tried a beauty trick, sending in a beautiful female assassin to bed our father and kill him in the throes of passion. But as someone who clawed his way onto a throne that was never his, how could Emperor Helio allow his sovereignty to slip through his fingers so easily?

Poison? He’s developed an immunity to most, although his enemies circulate rumors that my father used black magic to attain his aura and poison immunity. Either way, he is so impervious to being killed that calling my father a god wouldn’t be a huge reach. Perhaps this is why he gave himself the name, Helio.

“We need to talk to this guy,” I insist.

“And find out what exactly?” Julian says as he sets me on my bed. The comfy covers beneath me sends a wave of tiredness flowing through my body. Since I’m a little kid, I cannot weather all-nighters as well as I did as a college student.

“Well for starters, figure out why he was stupid enough to bring powerful, modern weapons into this world. Maybe wring his neck a little for ruining it for the rest of us Travelers,” I pantomime strangling the air and elicit a chuckle from Julian. “And of course, we need to find out if he left any blueprints behind and destroy them. Imagine what could happen if someone got ahold of them and figured out how to make his bombs even more destructive and powerful. We could be dealing with a World War before we know it and a witch hunt that would make Salem’s look like child’s play.”

Julian’s face is serious, the shadows inside my tent painting the gravity of the situation onto his skin. He’s older than me and is definitely better acquainted with the aftereffects of the two World Wars than I would be.

“There’s absolutely no way for me to sneak in and talk to him while we’re at camp,” Julian repeats after thinking for a bit. I shake my head in disappointment.

“But,” he continues dramatically. A light shines in his eye, the sparkle of a crazy idea. “what if we got him on the road?”

“What?” I stare at Julian like he’s speaking another language.

“What I mean is, instead of trying to sneak in now while security is at its tightest, we find a way to crack this weaponsmith while he’s being transported back to Radovalsk. The guards will rotate more often and because we would be traveling, it is inevitable that there will be some lapses in security. Look, there’s a reason why many heists occur when valuable goods are being transported. If we play our cards right, we could find our chance then,” Julian says excitedly.

“Shit,” I mutter as my lids grow heavy. “That’s a good idea. Kind of crazy, but we don’t have any other shot.”

“Exactly. I’ll make arrangements,” Julian is completely taken with his idea, already rising from his chair.

“Wait!” I cry. I grab hold of his clothes before he leaves, my eyes fighting a losing battle.

“Don’t tell anyone yet, even your closest servants,” I say, remembering how Emma had warned me about the manservant Julian drags around everywhere.

Julian treats my suggestion like air. “I know, I know. Don’t worry I’ve cultivated my own people.”

“I don’t care,” I answer sternly. “Our existence is a secret that is dangerous enough to get both of us killed. So please, let’s just keep this between us for now.”

Julian looks torn as I hold onto his sleeve for dear life.