Reivan and the forces of Samsara continued their frequent assaults for three days, yet the empire's massive army continued its much slower advance southward.

Despite the relative success Reivan and the others found on the first day, the empire wasn't led by fools—and as such, naturally came up with countermeasures. Or rather, they utilized the countermeasures that old imperial generals used when fighting against knights in the past. Such countermeasures involved putting most of the levied forces in a relatively secure area while the giant homunculi or Imperial Vanguards waited at the edges of the army, ready to rain down a storm of javelins on the knights at any time.

While the attacks weren't that dangerous to knights, they weren't nothing either. So they were successfully discouraged from further pressing forward. Of course, Reivan and the knights could force the attack, but doing so would be an unnecessary risk when the mere threat of an attack was enough to sap away the enemy's stamina and will to fight. Besides, the empire didn't bring an unlimited number of javelins and other projectiles, so continuing to maintain distance while spooking them from time to time wasn't a loss in the long run.

Now, even if Reivan and his forces had a way to somewhat deal with stamina problems, magic power had to be recovered if they wanted to fight effectively. Since their skirmishes have devolved into ranged harassment, both sides had to stop and rest more frequently.

Argonians could just rest their ass safely, protected by their big hulking beasts and walls upon walls of their people's corpses. Even though many died from the knights' ambushes, there were still more than five hundred thousand imperials in the army after everything.

But Samsara's forces only numbered a minuscule two hundred in comparison. If they were going to rest at all, they couldn't do it somewhere in the open. With no more greeneries left in the wake of Arkhan's unnatural heatwaves, that limited them tremendously.

'Good thing we found these underground chambers! What a life-saver.'

Reivan's golden bestial eyes penetrated the darkness as he scanned the expansive dark chasm underneath one of Arkhan's many abandoned towns. The place had apparently been prepared over the course of a few weeks by battlemages who had [Earth] attribute spirit beasts. Under the conceptual knowledge that hot air rose higher and cold air sunk, they sought to escape the accursed heat by keeping the ordinary people hidden in underground chambers much like the one Samsara's forces were using as their temporary base.

The hollowed-out area wasn't that big, truth be told, only capable of comfortably housing a few hundred—but could probably squeeze thousands within. And there were no partitions, so privacy must not have been an available commodity for everyone staying there. Not even a proper bathroom was provided, it seemed.

But at least they didn't die from heatstrokes or dehydration.

Those people had all been forcefully evacuated to Lageton though, which was also why Reivan and the others knew about the underground chamber in the first place. Surprisingly, the battlemages in various other settlements thought of similar ideas despite no correspondence between each other, so the subterranean bunker that Reivan was in wasn't the only one out there.

And they were quite thankful for having readied places to hide in.

Reivan was making good use of his time by chewing on field rations, using a rock as his impromptu throne. Naturally, he could have taken out a freshly cooked meal frozen in time within Zouros' belly or retrieved one of the many comfy furniture he collected for personal use. But that didn't seem very appropriate given the current situation. And besides, he didn't want to get too comfortable when battle could erupt at any minute.

Around him were the other knights dutifully waiting for their mana to recover. Some used the time, like Reivan, to fill their stomachs. While some merely leaned against a wall, a rock, or a comrade's back to get some light sleep. Others still, talked with their fellows in hushed tones, most likely discussing tactics or exchanging tips regarding fighting style.

Gwen was discussing things with Sir Gregory and Sir Vino, while Xander was passed out not too far away. The poor knight had to get knocked out because he wouldn't take a rest, even after Reivan asked him to go on an extended scouting trip.

Helen, his wife, was squatting on the craggy floor nearby as she munched on her own field rations. She was making a point of turning her face away, which didn't strike him as strange because she was a little annoyed at him right now.

Reivan finished his handful of lizard jerky before sheepishly nudging her leg with his foot. "Hey. I know you're worried, but I'll be fine."

"That's what people who don't end up fine say before going off to get themselves killed."

"Uh... Yeah, that's probably right. But relax." He shrugged. "Just like the time I infiltrated the Tower, I'll be in and out before anyone even notices."

Helen finally turned to him with an exasperated sigh and a cheek that was slightly bulging—which, he decided, shouldn't be commented on for now. "I know you've done it before, but I still think the risk is unnecessary. Dame Gwendolyn and the others agree with me too, that the empire is practically guaranteed to retreat and break up their coalition since they've run out of food and we can easily attack any supply convoys that try to relieve them. We even caught the riders they sent to ask for aid."

"But still, wouldn't it be better to be extra sure?"

"For the price of your life? No. No, it wouldn't."

"I'm not guaranteed to die, you know? I have the [Darkness] affinity so I'll be harder to detect."

"The risk still exists," Helen rebutted, sighing again. "You don't have to infiltrate the enemy camp. Our side has essentially secured victory already. Or at least, we've secured a stalemate where a full-on clash will never occur."

Reivan groaned. He'd only mentioned it in passing on one of the war councils they held after every other ambush. But as he voiced his thoughts aloud, the benefits gradually dawned on him.

Sadly, the others didn't agree.

Gwendolyn, at least, acknowledged the boons and how much the conflict would be accelerated toward its end. But she still dismissed it as too much of a risk when the method of slowly suffocating the enemy army was available. Sir Vino praised his valor too, saying that Reivan really was a warbeast at his core.

On the other hand, Sir Xander, Sir Gregory, and Helen were vehemently denying his plan despite its merits.

"C'mon, it's not as bad as it sounds," Reivan continued to try to convince her. "And like I said, I've done it before. In the Spirit Tower, there were Ascendants everywhere and even a Transcendent. Now there's just a bunch of mortals so the risk is even less."

"And how much time did you spend in preparation for that?"

Reivan froze for a moment before reluctantly answering. "More than a year..."

"Uh-huh. And you knew just about everything about the person you were impersonating too, right?"

"Yes..."

"You even practiced how to act like him and noted down mannerisms the person didn't know they had."

Groaning, Reivan raised both hands in surrender. "Alright, alright... When did you get so good at arguing with me anyway? Good lord..."

Helen turned her face away in what was probably a mix of annoyance and exasperation for a few moments. But she eventually glanced at him and spoke in a hushed tone that he could barely hear. "In the first place, are you asking or telling?"

Despite her lack of clarification, Reivan understood what she meant. Basically, she wanted to know if he sought her counsel or simply told her his plans with no intention of changing them no matter what she said.

It may have been different in the past, but they were husband and wife now. His life no longer belonged to him alone, just as her life didn't belong to her alone. They were partners now, and they were supposed to be companions in the journey through life—making life-threatening decisions without the other's input wasn't right. Of course, there were times when they were bound to ignore the other's opinion, such as when Helen wouldn't have agreed to be left behind in Lageton while he went off on this mission. But if their positions were reversed, Reivan would ignore her sentiments and go with her too. That was just how it was.

At the heart of this quiet discussion, it felt as if Helen was trying to ascertain what kind of relationship he wanted theirs to be—one where he went and did whatever he wanted, pulling her along for the ride. Or one where they worked together in the truest sense.

"I'm asking. Of course, I'm asking." Reivan got up from his rock and sat on the ground right next to her, grabbing her hand and holding it tight. "Sorry, if it didn't seem that way."

Helen hummed and finally faced him fully, a small smile gracing her face. "That's nice. But you shouldn't be showing this kind of stuff off when others are watching..."

"Ah."

As he'd just noted down earlier when looking around the cave, there weren't any partitions or anything like that, meaning privacy was nonexistent. This was fine too, because everyone was in everyone else's line of sight, essentially making it so that their group covered for each other.

But that also meant that their little moment was out on display for two hundred knights to see.

"Ehem, excuse me." Reivan cleared his throat and looked around, noting that Gwen didn't even seem to notice, too drawn into her discussion with Sir Gregory and Sir Vino. Meanwhile, most of Hosue Mercer's knights discreetly looked away or were busying themselves with something—such as observing the bumpy ground and walls or cleaning their perfectly clean soul armaments.

The warbeasts, on the other hand, were not so considerate. They openly smirked, and some even wolf-whistled. Insolent bastards, the lot of them.

He threateningly waved his fist at them to make them stop before shyly turning back to his wife, whose mood had improved drastically. "A-Anyway, about my plans..."

"I still don't like it. Too risky. We'll win even if you don't do anything like it."

"I understand that, but I also want to infiltrate the camp so we can gather information. I want to sneak in and maybe catch some conversation between important figures. I also want to know who the important figures are and maybe assassinate them if I can."

"Like I said, too risky. We'll win any—"

"Right. We'll win this battle." Reivan interjected. "But even if we kill... what, a few hundred thousand peasant levies, tens of thousands of legionaries, and a few thousand vanguards, what does that even do to the empire as a whole? They have hundreds of millions of people in there. Maybe even billions, though nobody's sure. They can refill their ranks and come back another day. Maybe with a bigger army. With much more preparation too."

Helen groaned, unable to deny it.

Pressing the attack, Reivan continued. "We need to hit them where it hurts, Helen. Not all their nobles are important, but if we take enough of them out, won't other nobles who hear about it become reluctant to join up the next time some asshole tries to gather an army of this scale again? We're making them bleed right now, but that's all. They go home and lick their wounds, then it's as if we never wounded them in the first place."

"That's..."

"If we want to hurt them, we need to do more. We need to make them afraid, Helen. We need to make it so that every time they march on us, their spines will chill at the thought that they could die before they even see our walls."

Reivan stopped to check if she was starting to be convinced, but instead, he noticed that the other knights seemed more convinced and approving. They didn't make it obvious, but they were nodding along and some even muttered about how he was right.

Finally, Helen nodded. "I can see how this would benefit us..."

"Then—"

"But it still places you at tremendous risk. I don't like it. Nobody here does."

Reivan groaned, remembering something his father had said in passing. When arguing with a woman, logic had to take a back seat in favor of the emotional side of things. This was mainly where men and women didn't see eye to eye, sometimes valuing entirely different things. "Like I said, the risks aren't as high as you think... I have Zee with me and Dom too. I have a bunch of runestones and spell balls just in case of a pickle as well."

Since it was made by Transcendents, he had to temporarily leave behind Frey's Blessing, which essentially granted him a second life and the ability to cast miracles. The same could be said of the Sword Star's silver bell. But even then, how could the prince of one of the world's most ancient nations not have a bag full of extremely expensive tricks? The empire would have a very hard time exhausting the bombs he had in his bag, so to speak.

Suddenly being hit by a bout of inspiration, Reivan brought his lips close to her ear and whispered so that nobody else would hear. "Also, the sooner we end this, the sooner we can get back to Lageton and focus on making a kid."

That seemed to impact her a lot because she bit her lip and furrowed her brow. "That's true..."

"Also, if we crush their hopes for long enough, I can spend a lot of time with you and the baby even after it's born. At most, I'll be gone for a few days at a time, never for extended periods to deal with massive armies like this one."

"You say that as if you're not taking in a second wife and dozens of concubines. But I can see the merits."

"R-Right..." Reivan cleared his throat and wiped the bead of sweat on his brow. "And if I can rescue any captive Arkhanians, it might help my image as a ruler and subsequently endear me to the general public. That means my regime can rule more effectively and I'll be even less busy. I can pretty much throw all the administrative tasks to Gwen and Jiji without showing up as much. Doesn't that sound great?"

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Helen groaned before finally sighing, her shoulders slumping in resignation. "Fine. I understand. I won't say anything about this anymore."

"Really?"

"Yes. But, you'll have to do it at dusk and get back out at dawn. Like you said, in and out."

"Of course. It won't take that long. And I won't greed for more gains."

"Okay... Also, if you don't get back on time, I'll never let you talk me into supporting your recklessness ever again. Got it?"

Reivan nodded vehemently, a smile forming on his lips as he got up and offered her a hand. "Alright. C'mon, let's discuss this with the others."

Helen took his offer and stood on her feet before nonchalantly calling out to him. "Rein."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for discussing this with me."

Reivan's brows rose and he glanced at her, chuckling when he noticed that she'd already gone on ahead of him toward Gwen and the other two important figures in their merry little warband.

'I'm glad I did too.'

----------------------------------------

The plan was simple.

Samsara's forces would do what they had done on the first day—strike swiftly and decisively, like a spear digging into a beast's flank as deep as it could. They would have to endure more resistance than the first day and a few were likely to come out injured, but the empire's forces wouldn't expect them to strike too hard at this point. The Argonians had been lulled into a false sense of peace these past few days, so they wouldn't expect Samsara to switch tactics so suddenly.

In the chaos of that attack, Reivan would disguise himself as a common peasant levy and blend back into the imperial army. As for who he would be impersonating, he could simply procure it in the battle. There would be plenty of opportunities to do so. In fact, he highly doubted anyone memorized almost half a million people's faces. Especially not the nobles, who were known for treating their own levies as lance fodder. So he could just come up with an entirely new face and go largely unrecognized.

As for why he chose a peasant levy—who had the lowest standing within the army—instead of a legionary or an Imperial Vanguard, that was because the latter two were professional soldiers. That would make them all much harder to impersonate since Reivan didn't know Argonian military traditions and etiquette. If he impersonated a peasant levy, then even if he did something stupid, everybody would just chalk it up to him being a bit dim in the head. Or maybe they'd just chastise him for not paying attention to training or something.

After infiltrating, he'd skulk around as Samsara's forces continued to pressure the empire. This would also make it much easier to move around in the army's camp, and also provide him ample opportunity to escape.

Now, as for what he was going to accomplish, that was still up in the air because he didn't know what opportunities he'd find. But he had a list of things to look for. He'd just have to pray that his luck was decent today.

On the dusk of the fourth day since Samsara's forces collided with the gargantuan imperial army, Reivan seamlessly infiltrated the enemy camp.

'That was so easy, it's actually kind of alarming.'

Reivan pretended to groan in pain as he rolled around in the mud. Samsara's forces had already retreated after being chased off by a force of about three thousand Vanguards and about a dozen homunculi. A lot of the latter were killed, however, their ridiculously massive carcasses blocked his view of his retreating allies. Since that was the case, he may as well screw his eyes shut.

"Oi, we got a live one over there!" someone called out in some Argonian dialect, which Reivan could only understand because he'd learned a few dialects including the main one through a pearl of wisdom. A few heartbeats later, a wet squelch filled his right ear as someone knelt before him before clicking their tongue. "By the Sun God. Just my plowing luck, this guy's a peasant levy too. Would've been great if I managed to save a legionary..."

Despite what the man muttered to himself, Reivan still felt himself get carried off and slung over someone's shoulder. From what conversation he could hear nearby, it seemed he and anyone else found alive in the battle site were to be brought to a priest for healing. Which wasn't good, because he wasn't actually injured.

'Lord have mercy, I'm already running into trouble...!? Damnit. I should've dislocated my arm, at least...'

Having lived a knight's lifestyle growing up, he had plenty of experience having limbs dislocated and setting them back. Honestly, he didn't even flinch when it happened nowadays, which scared him a little when he really thought about it.

He peered through the crack of his eyelids and observed the surroundings he passed by, noting how well-organized everything was. The large ten-person tents were arranged with uniform distances in between, just enough for three people to pass through if they walked shoulder to shoulder. Not only that, but the surroundings outside of the tents were pretty clean too.

If he was being perfectly honest, he'd expected Argonians to just shit in a pot inside their tents before wantonly throwing it outside. So this was a bit of an eye-opener. Maybe there was something about the crimson color of their tents that made things look cleaner. He couldn't be sure.

As he passed, he saw some legionaries maintaining their rifles or oiling their blades with practiced precision, sitting on scattered crates while giving levies the stink eye from time to time. Given how numerous the imperial army was, it went without saying that observing his surroundings got old really fast. At some point, he'd seen it all and there wasn't anything of interest. Only levies and legionaries were in this area, apparently. Because anyone higher ranked was either in the middle of the camp or at the edges to guard against enemy harassment.

Just as the man porting him complained about how his back was aching from how heavy Reivan was, they made it to an especially large collection of white tents, each with a priest treating particularly bloody patients or reattaching limbs. Additionally, there was a particularly large tent that seemed as if it could easily fit a hundred people in the middle, where fewer injuries were being treated. Most of the injured were being brought into the larger tent.

There were a lot of injured people inside though. Clearly, Samsara's attack had produced plenty of injured men.

'We went for the kill though. I guess they were just out of killing range.'

When he looked closer and listened to surrounding conversations, he realized that the majority of the injuries were caused by rubble sent flying by the fights or an errant gust of wind blowing them away, only to crash into the ground enough to break bones but not kill. Some even got injured because they were trampled by others when the undisciplined levies rushed to get away from the area where the knights suddenly attacked.

Seemingly too impatient to wait in line, Reivan's human mount roughly set him down inside the tent before leaving.

'Alright, let's figure out how to get out of here...'

Reivan cracked his eyes open and observed the interior of the tent. The inside was lit with floating balls of white flame that radiated an unnatural brilliance, each one presumably following the priest that conjured them. Still, despite their brightness, there were shadows he could exploit because the sources of light kept moving around without illuminating the entire tent. And in a stroke of luck, he'd been set down in one of those shadows.

When he was sure that nobody was paying attention to him and no one was heading inside to bring in more injured, Reivan's disguise quickly fell away, allowing him access to all his abilities once again. He then melted into the shadows and rushed through the gaps beneath the tent, blending seamlessly into the night. That said, even though the [Darkness] affinity made it impossible for ordinary people to notice him if he didn't want them to, even mortals could eventually detect him if they were close enough to Ascendance. After all, with the improvement of the body comes the evolution of one's senses.

Of course, even those people wouldn't notice him immediately. Especially not if he was surrounded by darkness like he was right now.

'I should still play it safe and move carefully though.'

A dead man with a thousand successes only had to mess up once.

For a few hours, Reivan aimlessly wandered the expansive campsite by moving from shadow to shadow, taking extra care to be as far away from light as possible. He was actually curious about the center of the camp where all the really important people were gathered, but he was sure that a lot of powerful people were concentrated there too. It was also a terrible idea for him to willingly make his way to the center, thereby making it much easier to get surrounded if he was exposed.

That was why he mainly roamed the part somewhat close to the sections that were supposedly in danger from a knight raid. Justifiably, there wasn't much to speak of but a bunch of soldiers grumbling about the dwindling rations, but what surprised Reivan even more was that they hadn't run out of food entirely.

'There must have been another food storage other than the one Sir Xander blew up. Or maybe they kept it in spatial storage artifacts?'

If it was the latter, then they probably wouldn't last long anyway. And it also proved that he was correct in infiltrating the camp, because the imperial army clearly wasn't in as a dire state as they thought. The battle would have been prolonged even more.

Just when he was trying to come up with a way to find it, he suddenly heard an interesting conversation between two passing legionaries.

"Sormon have mercy on my soul, I hate this job sometimes," one of the two, the older one with a grey beard, complained. "We're getting plowed to high heaven by those bastards from Aizen, but some noble brat wants me to fetch one of the Arkanian prisoners for him?"

"Eh, what else can we do." the other chuckled. He was much younger than the other and seemed to look up to his senior. "Hey. Maybe we could have a turn before they do."

"Don't even think about it, boy. No noble is gonna like it if you handed them a freshly used woman. They'd hang you for less. Best to stay out of trouble."

"I was just joking..." the younger one grumbled. "But it ain't right. The legionaries are the ones who scoured those cities while the Vanguards just jerked themselves off in camp. But they're the only ones allowed to plow the Arkhanian slaves we captured? I didn't feel as bad about it a few days ago because I thought they'd protect us if any knights came running, but they haven't even killed a single one. It's been what, four days?

"Don't talk so loudly. You'll get us both in trouble." the older one whispered with urgency but didn't refute the younger one's words. "I'm not too satisfied with them either, honestly. Lots of our boys even got killed because the vanguards keep letting those plowing knights walk all over us."

"They got my cousin the other day. Good guy, that one. He even gave me a turn at the redhead he caught a week ago before he turned her over to the overseers. Tightest plow of my life, I swear to Sormon. I almost ascended then and there."

"Did ya, now? Should've called me so I could've had a turn too."

"Sorry about that, old man. Slipped my mind. I swear it won't happen next time we get to pillage."

The more Reivan listened, the more his guilt over the Argonians he slew over the past few days dissipated.

If he really tried to, he could probably recall most of their faces, but he indulged himself by avoiding such thoughts. Even though he knew that he had to kill them, he'd always felt a certain level of guilt over what was essentially murder. It wasn't indirect deaths like when countless people died because of the information he divulged about the Sage King's plans. These people died as a direct consequence of his actions, like Maya and the boy he killed in the Sanctuary.

Now, he felt as if he could be a bit less concerned. Not to the point of total indifference, of course. But he certainly wouldn't be agonizing over the Argonians he killed any time soon.

Reivan didn't hesitate to follow the two legionaries for now, eventually reaching a very large tent very similar to the one he'd been deposited in earlier. Except this one was easily distinguishable from the white tents that priests used or the red ones meant for most of the soldiers.

This one was a very bright pink and was illuminated with plenty of lanterns.

Guarding the large tent were two very imposing men in full-plate armor—Imperial Vanguards. And a quick examination placed them at around 800 Might each.

The two vanguards looked at the legionaries with suspicion. "Halt. State your business. Legionaries and peasant levies aren't allowed past this point."

"We are aware, great warrior." the older legionary stepped forward with a friendly smile. "It's just that we're under orders from Lord Clavelus to bring him some fine girls. Untouched, if you would be so kind."

"Ah..." The vanguards immediately eased up. Clearly, this wasn't the first time something like this happened. "Aye. We anticipated this so we've set some aside if a lord ever wanted to partake. If we didn't, all they'd have to choose from won't be pretty no matter how good they looked at the start."

The old legionary chuckled knowingly. "Then they'll somehow find a reason to blame us, am I right? As if we were supposed to just leave 'em all alone."

"You got that right, old timer." one of the vanguards laughed and the other soon followed before nudging his armored head toward the tent. "Go ahead inside. You'll want the ones chained to the very back. Can't miss 'em. They've still got their clothes on, after all."

"Thank you, warriors. Ah, but... Since we're here already, could me and the boy be allowed to have a go at the used ones?" The older legionary hooked his arm over the younger one's shoulders. "This guy's never touched a woman, if you'll believe it. Have some pity, would ya?"

Immediately catching on, the younger legionary nodded vigorously. "Please, warriors. I don't wanna die before getting to plow anything."

"Hah?" one of the vanguards grunted in apparent confusion. "Didn't you get to pillage on the way here?"

"We did," the older legionary interjected. "But we weren't lucky to find any young'uns. Just men and kids we sold off. And a bit of loot. The young women always got snatched up, before I could help this boy shed his youth."

The vanguards looked at each other before one of them shrugged and turned to the legionaries with a nod. "We won't say anything. None of the vanguards can have a go because of these plowing knights. May as well let you teach those Arkhanian wenches what's what. Just pick a girl, shoot your shot, and plow off, alright? Don't you be staying too long after, thinking you could rest up and have another go. We're not supposed to let you bastards have a turn at all. Us two're just nice fellows."

"Thank you, thank you, warriors." The old legionary grinned and dipped his head. "We won't be forgetting this any time soon."

"Oh, sod off already old man. No need to butter us up."

The two legionaries were then allowed to go into the large pink tent. Unlike the one with the priests in it, this one actually had its flap set down to hide the interior from prying eyes. But when the legionaries entered, Reivan managed to glimpse the harrowing scene within.

And the smell too, reached him from his hiding spot a dozen yards away.

'These inhuman swine...'

Reivan's fist couldn't help but clench, trembling under the strength of his grip. He quickly calmed down, however. Time was of the essence, and if he delayed for longer, at least two of those girls were going to suffer even more than they already had. Maybe it was just one drop in a very full bucket, but he wouldn't allow that drop if he could stop it.

Because it was too bright in this place, especially around the large pink tent, Reivan couldn't just sneak into the place the same way he'd been sneaking around until now.

'I guess this is where the disguise comes in.'

Reivan chose a hidden corner to come back into existence, quickly switching to a different face. This one had belonged to a brown-haired legionary in his early twenties. After rapidly putting on the man's looted uniform, he confidently walked up the the tent with a smile.

"Evening, warriors," he greeted before they could tell him to stop. "I know I'm not supposed to be here, but hear me out. A bunch of drunk lords asked me to pick up a few girls for them and I'm kind of in a hurry. Judging by how drunk they are, they'll either completely forget they ordered me at all, or have me hanged if I take too long. I'm not much of a gambler, honestly. So if you don't mind, could you help a poor soldier out?"

The two vanguards glanced at each other before one of them sighed in exasperation. "These lords, I swear to Sormon... Which one ordered you?"

Reivan raised both hands in shook his head. "I'm gonna be frank with you fellows, I don't even know who they are. Too many of 'em too. But they're dressed nice and they're guarded by other vanguards, so..."

"Agh, fine, fine. Get in and make it quick. Don't be looking around too much."

Laughing at how easy it was, Reivan bobbed his head with an ingratifying smile. "I know my place, warriors. I ain't great enough to have a go at the wenches like you all."

One of the vanguards chuckled. "Got a good mouth on you, man. Well, if you weren't in such a hurry, we wouldn't have said anything if you had one go."

"What? Seriously?" Reivan slumped his shoulders. "Just my luck... Would you let me if I come back here after delivering the girls to the lords?"

"Haha. Don't push your luck, boy."

"C'mon. Even the fugly ones will do."

"The fugly ones were sent home, fool." one of the vanguards laughed and even slapped his belly, which was behind a cuirass. "Only the decent-looking ones get the honor of being a tent girl."

Reivan had to try very hard not to grimace. "An honor, huh..."

"Of course." the vanguard on the left waved a hand dismissively. "These plowing Arkhanians had it coming to 'em. They're lucky if one of the vanguards take a liking to them enough to bring 'em home."

"If they survive, yeah?" the other vanguard said with a grin. "It's pretty rough having to handle so many, you know? I heard it's worse over in the other comfort tents."

Reivan's ears immediately perked up.

'Son of a...There's more than one tent...!?'

When he really thought about it, that made perfect sense. The Argonian's words implied that men, children, and women who weren't attractive enough were shipped back to Argonia as slaves. Even if they only picked out women above a certain level of charm, they wouldn't all fit in just one tent considering just how many settlements this army passed through and ravaged.

'Fuck. If I had known that the tents were color-coded, I would've had Zee scout from the sky and note down where all the pink ones were.'

That meant the girls were separated, making it harder for him to rescue all of them at once. If the absence of even one tent was revealed, the other tents would be more strictly guarded and would have more vanguards on them. While he could easily handle more than ten at once, chances were high that he'd get overrun before he could silence all ten.

But there was no going back now. Rescuing some was better than rescuing nobody. He would retrieve all the women here and then see what he could do about the others.

In the end, he'd just have to try his best on that front.

Since that was the case anyway, Reivan's disguise rapidly fell away along with the weakness it caused him. Before the vanguards could react, the swords in each of his hands had already traced a line across their necks. Just as their armored heads fell, Reivan retrieved all the parts and stored them inside Zouros' stomach. After checking his surroundings to see that nobody had noticed, Reivan strode into the tent.

Even when he'd anticipated it, and even when he'd already glimpsed a bit of what was inside earlier, he still couldn't help but grimace.

'Now I understand why some knights are really racist against Argonians.'

Reivan was starting to think that becoming racist wouldn't be so bad either.