Half an hour earlier.

At the entrance to the Triumphant City delegation’s camp, Lisa stood nervously, glancing toward the tents. She wanted to ask someone for information but hesitated, too timid to approach.

Then a surprised voice called out beside her. “Lisa?!”

The voice was familiar. Lisa turned quickly, and saw a girl holding a laundry basket, wearing a linen dress, staring back at her wide-eyed.

Her light-brown hair and freckles were just like Lisa’s, though she was taller.

“Emil!” Murmuring the familiar yet distant name, Lisa ran up joyfully and clasped her friend’s hands.

Both of them had been born as servants in Triumphant City and trained at the same domestic academy, learning laundry, cooking, and service together.

Later, Lisa was chosen to board the Heart of Steel, following General McClennan eastward. Before she left, Emil had given her a handkerchief, which Lisa had sewn into her clothes and kept ever since. She had almost forgotten those days, never expecting to meet a friend from home again in a foreign land thousands of kilometers away.

Emil was just as astonished, gripping Lisa’s hands tightly. “Thank goodness you’re alright! I heard you were captured by the River Valley Province’s wastelanders and went missing! They, they didn’t do anything terrible to you, did they?”

In Triumphant City, slaves were protected by the Marshal’s laws. They had no rights or freedom, but their lives weren’t unbearable, more like lifelong indentured servants.

But out in the wasteland, things were different.

And the Triumphant Report’s constant propaganda about the cruelty of wastelanders had convinced Emil that Lisa had to have been tortured to death.

Lisa blushed and said softly, “No... actually, they were quite kind to me. They taught me to read, helped me find work, and even paid me wages... I bought new clothes at a festival recently.”

Emil stared at her in disbelief. But when her gaze fell on Lisa’s oil-stained apron, her expression turned blank, like she was looking at someone who had lost their mind.

After a long silence, Emil gently patted Lisa’s head and whispered pityingly, “Oh, poor Lisa... what nonsense have they brainwashed you with...”

Lisa smiled weakly, unsure how to explain. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a group passing by the camp gate and instinctively rose on tiptoe to look.

Emil blinked curiously. “What is it?”

Lisa hesitated, then whispered, “Could you help me... ask about someone?”

“Who?”

Lisa blushed. “Please... his name is Pangolin.”

Emil froze, eyes wide. “Sir Pangolin? Wait, you know him?”

Lisa’s cheeks turned redder. “When we were at Falling Leaf Camp, I served him for a short time. After the war ended... I lost contact.”

Her service had only meant washing a few of his clothes, but Emil clearly misunderstood. Her eyes filled with teasing admiration, and a touch of envy. “You actually served Sir Pangolin...”

Lisa stammered, “W-what’s wrong with that?”

Emil looked toward the camp, her expression dreamy. “Nothing, it’s just... that man is extraordinary. Strong, handsome, and accomplished. Before thirty, he became a commander, and as an outsider no less! So many in Triumphant City see him as their role model... Oh, Marshal above, if only I could become his personal maid...”

Lisa’s eyes went blank.

Surprise, disappointment, and confusion swirled within her.

She realized the gulf between them was vast, so vast that he probably didn’t even remember her.

She had only washed a few pieces of clothes for him. Even if something had happened, he’d have no reason to think of her. Still... she just wanted to thank him, to thank the man who had saved her from hell. Nothing more.

Biting her lip, her thoughts tangled like knotted thread.

Emil, oblivious to her turmoil, suddenly grasped Lisa’s hand excitedly. “I can’t believe you know him! That’s perfect, could you do me a favor?”

“Huh?” Lisa blinked in confusion.

Blushing, Emil lowered her voice. “Sir Pangolin isn’t like the others. He treats slaves and attendants kindly, even outside Triumphant City. He never lays hands on us or says crude things. So... I’ll be honest, I want him to buy me. Could you help me?”

Lisa froze where she stood.

Lisa stared blankly at her friend’s pleading face, her mouth falling open in shock. “Ah?! B-but... he... he’s...”

Seeing Lisa stammering and unable to finish her sentence, Emil lowered her voice and spoke hurriedly, almost begging. “Please, Lisa! For the sake of our friendship, help me this once! I’ll tell you a secret, he’s right here, in this camp! I’ll find a way for you to meet him!”

Lisa’s eyes widened. “He’s here?!”

The words had barely left her lips when a sharp voice rang out from nearby. “Emil! What are you doing! I told you to wash those clothes, are they done yet?!” It was the voice of an old woman.

Hearing it, Emil flinched like a mouse whose tail had just been stepped on, instinctively retreating a few paces from Lisa’s side. “I-I’ve finished washing them! I was just going to hang them up!”

From the direction of the camp gate, a wrinkled old woman in a black dress strode toward them in fury, her voice like a whip. “Then what are you waiting for? For mushrooms to grow out of your head?!”

Her face was a web of deep creases twisted into a permanent sneer. Once, she might have been beautiful, but now, her sharp gaze and harsh expression made her the exact opposite.

Her eyes were as cold and piercing as any Wislander officer’s, making Emil tremble in terror. Bowing deeply, she said, “... No, Lady Sisteel. Please forgive my clumsiness.”

Lady Sisteel wasn’t Wislander herself, but she was the head maid accompanying the envoy, in other words, the direct superior of all the servant women. It wasn’t a high position, but she still held the power of life and death over them.

Emil cast Lisa a furtive, pleading glance. Lisa nodded stiffly, silently promising she would help.

Just as she was about to wave goodbye, Sisteel’s murky eyes flicked toward her. The old woman stared at her hair, then her eyes, squinting as if she had just noticed something.

Lisa instinctively looked away, but Sisteel’s gaze sharpened. “You... you’re from Triumphant City, aren’t you?”

Lisa froze, fear flashing across her face. She said nothing, taking a half-step back, but Sisteel’s hand shot out and seized her wrist, yanking up her sleeve.

There, on her arm, was a faint scar.

Lisa gasped and tried to pull free, but the old woman’s wiry, bony arm was surprisingly strong, her grip like a steel vine.

“Let... let me go!”

“You’re a slave of the Army!” Sisteel barked, stepping closer, her cloudy eyes glinting like knives. “A runaway slave!”

The word hit Lisa like an arrow of ice through her heart. Her face drained of color, and her strength vanished. “I, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Sisteel merely sneered and ignored her.

A moment later, a Wislander officer approached from the camp gate, flanked by two soldiers.

The soldiers moved behind Lisa, blocking the view of onlookers, while the officer squinted at Sisteel. “Release her. What’s going on?”

If it had been a thief, this would’ve been a good chance to humiliate the New Alliance, but to his surprise, the normally kind and courteous Sisteel didn’t let go. Instead, she bowed slightly, lifted Lisa’s wrist to show the scar, and spoke in a tone thick with self-satisfaction. “I found a runaway slave, sir.”

The officer’s pupils narrowed, and his expression turned cold as he looked at Lisa.

In the Army, slaves were the private property of Wislander citizens, sacred and untouchable, like the Academy’s ancient relics.

By law, the Army guaranteed slaves basic safety. An eight-square-meter room, three meals a day, and the right to live healthily until they were 50 years old.

But if a slave ran away, they lost all legal protection.

Furthermore, any Wislander citizen had the duty to capture a runaway and return them to their master for a reward. And those wealthy enough to own slaves were rarely stingy, at the very least, they would gift the slave to the one who caught them.

Lisa trembled, her lips quivering. “I... I really’m not...”

The officer didn’t even glance at her. Instead, he reached out, grabbed Emil roughly by the arm, and dragged her forward.

“Ah!”

Ignoring her cry of pain and the basket of laundry that clattered to the ground, he yanked her in front of Lisa. “You know her?”