Chapter 116

It had been five years since he left the Knight Order, and now he was reuniting with Sid. Looking back, it was to save those three that he’d first exerted his will to change the course of the original story.

By intervening in the Battle of Bertis Forest—where they were destined to die—Harold had ended up collared by Justus. Cody hadn't quit the knights, and Harold had established Frieri in his stead.

It had been a true crossroads of fate, and Sid was one of the characters whose death flag was so massive they couldn't have been saved otherwise. While the reunion itself was something to be celebrated, Harold’s honest feeling was that he had a very bad premonition.

“It—it’s been a while, Harold...”

The source of his unease was the fact that Aileen was in town alongside Sid. It was a terribly rude thought, but to Harold, it looked as if a death flag he’d snapped off years ago had suddenly sprouted back to life.

After the initial commotion settled, a visibly awkward Sid asked if Harold had some time to talk. Harold, finding it difficult to heartlessly refuse, agreed to meet him later that night at a tavern near the inn.

When he arrived, Sid wasn't alone; Aileen, their former comrade, was right there with him.

“I was not informed that you would be here as well.”

“Ugh... S-sorry.”

Her once-feisty personality had withered away until no trace of it remained. Sid was the same. The fact that both of them were so dejected was concerning.

They certainly hadn't parted on good terms, but Harold didn't remember being so cruel that they would be this intimidated. It was throwing him off his stride.

“Is the big one not with you?”

“A-ah... Robinson is at a place called Travis right now.”

Sid and Aileen were in Burston, and the intimidating giant Robinson was in Travis. Both were towns where a massive monster horde would soon descend. His bad premonition grew even larger.

Without letting it show on his face, Harold continued the conversation.

“So it is only you two. In the first place, why are you here?”

“Knight Order business. I can’t give you the details, though.”

“Yeah, it’s a bit of a mess.”

It was likely based on the report El had sent to the Knight Order. If they had been dispatched in response to that, they had almost certainly been told that a monster horde was lurking beneath the town.

Neither Sid nor Aileen seemed green enough to let such information slip. However, it was unlikely they could take any meaningful countermeasures on their own.

“Whatever. So, what is this talk? If you intend to waste my time with something worthless, be prepared for the consequences.”

“No, it’s about that... I wanted to, well, apologize to you...”

“Hah?”

Fidgeting, Sid spat out words that were completely unexpected. Since Aileen remained silent beside him, she was clearly there for the same reason.

From Harold’s perspective, however, he truly had no idea what they were talking about.

If they were thanking him, he could almost understand. In fact, he was in a position where it would be natural for them to demand to know why he had "betrayed" them back then.

“Is this some kind of joke?”

“It—it’s not a joke!”

“If so, what exactly do you intend to apologize for to a man who betrayed this kingdom?”

To Sid and the others—and to most people in the Liber Kingdom—that was exactly who Harold was.

As members of the Knight Order, they surely would have heard the rumors. More importantly, they had seen Harold wearing a Sarian Imperial Uniform with their own eyes. Even though he had slain the enemy general, the official story had been framed as a petty dispute among comrades leading to murder.

In the eyes of the world, if the Deliberation Chamber handed down a verdict, that verdict was the truth.

“...Harold, they say you betrayed the knights. But I just couldn't believe it.”

“...”

“No... that’s not right. I wanted to believe you weren't that kind of guy, but... I couldn't bring myself to believe in you.”

As if confessing a sin, Sid continued.

To Harold, it was only natural that they hadn't trusted him. If anything, the fact that they had even tried to believe in his innocence was a shock.

“It matters not to me, but what caused this change of heart?”

“I heard a story from the source. From someone who was attacked by monsters during a mission and was saved when their squad was on the verge of being wiped out.”

Harold dug through his memories. That did happen. It was shortly after he had become Justus's pawn.

He had come across a group of about ten knights on the brink of annihilation. He intervened, but he'd only been able to save two of them, both of whom had to retire due to the severity of their injuries. The person Sid spoke to must have been one of them.

“That person looked after me when I was a rookie... I heard they were seriously injured, so I went to visit. That’s when they told me everything.”

Sid raised his head, staring into Harold's eyes with an intensity that felt like a physical pierce.

“They said, ‘My life was saved by Harold Stokes.’”

It wasn't surprising they knew Harold's name and face. And in reality, Harold had acted purely out of goodwill.

However, he felt that was a weak reason to conclude he wasn't a traitor. If someone could be convinced so easily despite the possibility of it being a fluke, they wouldn't have been agonizing this much.

“After I heard that, I realized I didn't understand you at all...”

He didn't want to think Harold was a traitor. Yet, the scene he saw and the verdict of the court pointed to nothing else. And yet, after leaving the Order, Harold had saved a man Sid respected.

The sheer cognitive dissonance must have put Sid through the wringer. But there was more.

“I kept worrying about it, so I went back to visit him again... and that’s when I realized. I realized you might have been caught up in something much bigger...”

“What do you mean?”

“When I went back, his memory of being saved by you was gone. He told me a new story: that he’d been attacked, blacked out, and woke up in the hospital.”

If memories were being manipulated, it was almost certainly Justus's work. What the goal was, Harold couldn't say.

“Pointless. He likely experienced a hallucination while on the verge of death.”

“No! It was definitely more than that!”

“How can you, a layman, speak with such certainty?”

“Because it was weird! He didn't just lose the memory of being saved—he completely forgot that 'Harold Stokes' even existed!”

It wasn't a mere lapse or general amnesia. It was a targeted erasure of a specific person's existence. Had it happened in isolation, it might have been dismissed.

But the person forgotten was far too specific for Sid and Aileen to ignore.

“Right after you were sentenced, Platoon Leader Cody told me: ‘The criterion for judgment isn't whether you can believe in Harold, but whether you can believe in yourself.’ But I couldn't do it. I couldn't believe in the 'me' that thought you were innocent!”

“It’s the same for me,” Aileen added. “I knew you were a jerk who only said spiteful things, but I knew you weren't a bad person... and even so, I couldn't stick to my guns.”

Their regret was palpable. Even in the dim tavern light, Harold could see the tears shimmering in their eyes.

Robinson, though absent, likely felt the same burden of guilt for doubting Harold's innocence. Even during his short stint in the Knight Order, Harold had known they were far too kind-hearted for their own good.

That was why he lashed out—to tell them, in his own way, to stop worrying.

“I wondered where this was going... Are you two morons?”

“H-hah?! Listen, I’m trying to give you a serious apology here!”

“And that is why I am calling you morons. What exactly do you have to apologize for?”

“Well, for not having the guts to believe in you...”

“Suppose, for a moment, that I was innocent and you two had shouted it from the rooftops. What would have changed? What part of that verdict could you have possibly altered?”

Sid and Aileen fell silent.

He was right. Whether they believed in Harold or not, the result would have been identical. The forces at play were so vast that the entire Knight Order could have protested in unison and it wouldn't have mattered. The death sentence had been a fixed outcome from the start.

“I suppose I should reveal the truth. That death sentence and its subsequent overturning were factored into the plan from the very beginning.”

““Hah?!””

They gave exactly the reaction he wanted.

It was a total lie, of course. Ever since the Battle of Bertis Forest, his life had been a series of one unexpected disaster after another. But even so—

“I am alive. Even fools like you should be able to grasp that such a fact is the ultimate proof, shouldn't you?”

He laughed mockingly. He was an expert at it by now. He did it to hide the fact that he was grateful. He was grateful for the kindness of people who would worry and ache over a lost cause like Harold Stokes—people who would carry that regret for years.

Showing gratitude wouldn't be like Harold Stokes. Being his usual, insufferable self was the only way to repay them.

“Hmph. To think you could have changed the situation through your own actions... how incredibly arrogant.”

“I do not want to hear about arrogance from you!”

“'Arrogant' implies being haughty or conceited. I am merely behaving in a manner befitting my stature. There is no arrogance in stating the truth.”

“No, that exact way of thinking is what makes you incredibly arrogant!”

This was fine. There wasn't a single reason for them to feel indebted to him.

The insolent, overbearing Harold was alive and well, proving that their concern had been a waste of time.

“You stuck-up jerk! You high-and-mighty prick!”

“Sigh... where am I supposed to vent all this worry and regret I’ve been holding onto...?”

“That’s it, we’re drinking, Sid! And we’re making Harold pay for every last drop!”

“Hey, don't just decide things for me...”

“Who cares! You’re a noble, so just cough up the cash!”

“...Actually, she’s right! Alright, we’re drinking on Harold’s tab tonight!”

“...You two are remarkably shameless.”

Still, Harold preferred them making a scene to them looking miserable. He had gone to great lengths to save their lives; he felt he could be allowed the luxury of seeing them live with smiles on their faces.

The timing of their reunion was ominous, but he hoped they could live out their days in peace, without any more death flags...

“Oh, that’s right, Harold! Actually, once this mission is over, the two of us are getting married! Where should we send the invitation?”

“Even if you’re a former subordinate, I’m still your senior, so you'd better show up to the wedding, okay?”

“Don't mess with me, you pieces of shit.”

That outburst of abuse wasn't because he hated weddings or invitations.

It was directed at the act of marriage itself.

(Don't you dare go raising the most vicious death flag of all! "I'm getting married after this battle" is the kiss of death!)

It seemed his bad premonition had been spot on. In a way, Sid and Aileen were loved by death flags almost as much as Harold was.

In that moment, a mountain of fresh work was ruthlessly dumped onto a man who was already dangerously overworked.