Seeing that Glenn appeared well, Madame Regilla finally spoke again. “Then go and do what you must.”

  Glenn inclined his head in polite farewell and returned home first, entrusting the golden larva to Tia and the others. The young maid, upon glimpsing the oversized creature, promptly fainted dead away, while the elven lady seemed delighted by it, cradling it gently in her arms.

  After instructing Gothaya and Lawiel to look after the unconscious Tia, Glenn departed with the rescued children—more than twenty in all. With the swiftness of a fifth-tier werewolf, he soon reached Dood Town.

  The place was teeming with griffin riders, though few possessed real skill. Thanks to Glenn’s stealth, none noticed his presence.

  He went first to his newly refurbished shop and settled the children there. Drawing the curtains tight, he shifted back to human form, donned one of the spare staff uniforms he had prepared, and stepped out into the street.

  The town was nearly deserted save for patrolling constables. Glenn ignored them and went straight to where Captain Doggory was barking orders.

  The man’s eyes lit with undisguised joy the instant he saw him—relief flooding his face like a long-held breath released.

  “Good heavens, you’re alive! Thank the stars! You’ve no idea how worried I’ve been!” The captain clasped Glenn’s shoulders, scrutinizing him as though to ensure he was no ghost, then broke into a hearty laugh.

  “Sorry to have caused you concern, Captain,” Glenn replied with a faint, apologetic smile.

  Doggory waved off the words, glanced discreetly around, and drew him aside. His voice dropped low. “Those people—what became of them?”

  “They’re all dead,” said Glenn evenly. “The children are safe, though still unconscious. I’ll need a few of your men to fetch them.”

  “I thought those poor kids were beyond saving,” Doggory murmured, astonished yet visibly relieved.

  Tough little human cubs, Glenn thought inwardly, a wry flicker of respect touching him.

  “Where are they now?” Doggory asked briskly. “I’ll send a team right away.”

  Glenn gave him the address of his shop, and within moments the captain had dispatched several officers.

  Seeing nothing else that required his hand, Glenn left the town, walking openly toward the outskirts.

  He had barely glimpsed the open countryside when a voice called out from above:

  “You there, sir—wait a moment!”

  Turning, Glenn feigned a startled look. A griffin beat its wings, landing five paces away. Its rider—a woman in weather-stained armor—dismounted and approached.

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  “Don’t be afraid,” she said gently. “I won’t harm you.”

  When Glenn nodded cautiously, she continued, “The kingdom’s forces are engaged in battle with a sudden demonic incursion. But our supply ranks are thin. We need able hands. You look strong and sound—why not lend your strength to the realm?”

  Glenn hesitated. He had, in truth, been considering a visit to the battlefield. Just as he was about to agree, the knight pressed on quickly:

  “Don’t refuse too hastily! You’ll be under our protection—the soldiers will keep you safe.”

  With that, she stepped closer and slipped a gold coin into his hand.

  The familiar weight and gleam startled him. He looked up, eyes wide, and the knight answered with a faint, warm smile.

  She’s recruiting at her own expense? The thought stirred an unexpected admiration—not of desire, but of genuine respect for such selflessness.

  He returned the coin, and though disappointment flickered in her eyes, he thumped his chest and declared:

  “Lady Knight, what are you doing? The kingdom’s warriors fight to shield common folk like us. To serve them in even the smallest way is an honor! I’ll go.”

  The knight stared at him for a long, silent moment; the resolve in his gaze left no doubt. Her eyes glistened, and suddenly she embraced him. The pressure of her breastplate made the hug somewhat uncomfortable.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Glenn stiffly returned the sentiment. “All… all for the kingdom,” he managed—words that rang rather hollow to his own ears.

  She stepped back, hastily wiping away the tears threatening to fall, and offered him a knight’s salute. “Elena Horn. It’s a pleasure to meet you. May I know your name, sir?”

  Her face was streaked with dust and ash—proof of recent battle—yet her tall, lithe frame and clear, confident voice carried all the boldness typical of her order.

  “Gl—” He caught himself, coughed lightly. “Dylan. Just call me Dylan. I’ve no surname.”

  Better not to reveal his true name to the griffin riders; he’d once crossed paths with one named Windsor and saw no need to invite recognition. “Dylan” was at least part of the truth.

  “Sir Dylan,” said Elena, “the front lines are far. Allow me to fly you there?”

  The image of himself seated behind her, arms around her waist as the griffin soared through the clouds, was so absurd that he quickly shook his head.

  Elena seemed a little disappointed but smiled regardless, bidding him farewell. Before leaving, she pinned a small insignia to his shoulder—marking him as a member of the army’s logistics corps.

  He walked on past the town, and before long he spotted others wearing the same badge—sixteen in total.

  Sixteen recruits… sixteen gold coins? he thought, half-amused. Elena must be quite wealthy. Suppressing a mischievous urge to lighten a few purses, he simply fell in with the group.

  Soon, several griffin riders appeared to escort them toward the royal army’s encampment.

  Upon arrival, Glenn was assigned to deliver meals to soldiers stationed in one of the outer sectors.

  He followed a few others carrying the same duty toward a place thick with the aroma of food. Each took up a wooden container divided into compartments. When his turn came, the portly cook ladled portions briskly into the sections, and Glenn moved off.

  The fare looked modest but filling, though he doubted the taste would match the scent.

  Choosing a quieter section where fewer couriers ventured, he started along the path, meals in hand.

  Then, a strange unease struck him.

  It’s been less than a day since I entered the illusion… so why does it feel as though this war has been raging for days?

  Puzzled, he quickened his pace and called to another porter ahead. “Excuse me, sir—how long has this battle been going on?”

  “Three, maybe four days,” the man answered uncertainly.

  Glenn didn’t know what to make of it. It wasn’t exactly a crisis—yet the thought of losing several days unsettled him all the same.

  He pushed the unease aside and continued his work.

  Then, while delivering food to a cluster of weary soldiers, his eyes caught a familiar figure.

  It was Windsor—the griffin knight.