Chapter 75

Brave Hearts was what one would call a classic "royal road" RPG. Growing up, the protagonist, Rainer Griffith, had watched his parents—once legendary adventurers—from a front-row seat. Longing to follow in their footsteps, he had trained since childhood to become strong, eventually dreaming of becoming the Commander of the Order of the Holy King.

The Commander was a hero, a powerhouse recognized by all. It was no exaggeration to say that nearly every child in the kingdom aspired to the position at least once.

On his seventeenth birthday, Rainer was supposed to inherit the sword his parents had used during their adventuring days and set off for the Royal Capital to join the Order.

However, on the eve of that birthday, a thief broke into his home and stole the blade. Brushing aside his parents' attempts to stop him, Rainer left the village alongside his childhood friend, Colette, to reclaim his birthright.

That was the game’s opening. This single catalyst would eventually sweep Rainer into a world-shaking conspiracy, forcing him to race across the continent to stop a heinous plot.

Incidentally, the tutorial battle involved fighting off that thief. It was the player’s first experience with full-scale combat involving magic—an absolutely essential milestone for any RPG.

In this reality, there was a high probability that Rainer had already gained experience elsewhere, but from a narrative standpoint, this was the first major turning point. The story simply wouldn't work without a thief to set things in motion.

Harold had always assumed the culprits were mere pawns under the command of a man named Harrison. In the game, these intruders were nameless, given almost no dialogue, and their backgrounds were never explored. They were nothing more than stage props designed to fulfill a role.

But that was how things worked in the game.

Based on the information gathered and Justus’s own words, it was almost certain that the youth and the girl before him were those very intruders. The problem was that Harold had just been ordered to lead them—and the fact that in the Original Story, there had been three of them.

Once Justus finished his clinical lecture on the automata, Harold asked a question to clear the air.

"I understand what these things are. But why do I have to be the one to lead them? Couldn't you just prep another doll and be done with it?"

"I considered it, but I burned through more Stella Clan vessels than I anticipated to reach this level of quality. I wish I had a few more spares."

Justus spoke of the Stella Clan members he had captured during the chaos he orchestrated five years ago—the conflict involving the Knight Order and the Imperial Army—as mere "spares." To him, they weren't even human.

The casual cruelty sent a chill through Harold. Then again, if he traced it back to the source, this whole situation was likely the fallout from his own interference five years ago. Had he not obstructed Justus’s plans back then, the man might have captured enough Stella Clan members to follow the script. More importantly, if Harold hadn't intervened, he wouldn't have been stuck in the position of being Justus’s subordinate in the first place.

In short, he was reaping what he had sown.

Harold Stokes and the leader of the intruders. He was being forced to lead a double life.

As Harold, he had some room to maneuver, but as the intruder, he would be an outright enemy to the protagonist. If his identity were exposed, things would get incredibly messy.

Justus, oblivious or indifferent to Harold’s inner turmoil, pressed on.

"With that settled, you will all be placed under the command of a man named Harrison. Are you acquainted with him?"

"No. He's the Minister of Military Affairs, if I recall."

"Correct. Promoting a stubborn fool like him—someone incapable of flexible thought—was no easy task, but I’ve finally placed him exactly where I can use him."

"So you've had your eye on him for a long time."

In the game, Harrison was a man blinded by pride and stupidity. His end was pathetic—killed by the very subordinates he thought were his pawns. As Harold thought that far, it dawned on him: the job of killing Harrison was likely going to fall to him.

Harrison treated the automata like tools. He would demand the impossible, and when they failed, he would cut them down without mercy. Ultimately, he was destined to be killed by the very emotionless dolls he abused.

"His mind is narrow and his perspective is biased, but that makes him exceptionally easy to handle. I’ll let him play the part of a glorious disposable pawn for as long as he’s useful."

"As usual, you have terrible taste."

"And you have a foul mouth. I’ll tell Harrison the automata lack language functions, so keep your mouth shut. You should also wear a robe to ensure your face isn't seen."

Harold’s face and name were fairly well-known. Such precautions were a necessity.

Personally, he hated the idea, but the potential rewards were worth the risk. Besides, as an order, he had no right of refusal. Saying "no" meant a one-way ticket to the disposal bin or the laboratory table. Either way, his survival rate would plummet.

It was more constructive to figure out how to navigate the role while causing as little collateral damage as possible. Through his experiences so far, Harold had reached a state of weary resignation toward the trouble that constantly found him.

He had simply accepted that this was his life.

"That goes for you two as well. You are forbidden from acting without permission from myself or Harold."

The youth and the girl nodded in unison. They seemed obedient enough, but one phrase caught Harold’s attention.

"Wait. I have the right to command them?"

"Of course. There will undoubtedly be situations requiring split-second judgment in the field. Officially, you’ll be Harrison's right-hand man, but you’ll never get anything done if you follow his idiocy to the letter."

That was a fair point. If Harold could control their movements, he’d have more options when things inevitably went sideways. That was a small comfort.

"What's the hierarchy for orders?"

"Myself, then you, then Harrison. I’ll leave the specifics of how you execute Harrison’s orders to your discretion, but at least try to look faithful."

"That depends on him."

"Hm. Well, you should be fine."

Harold wasn't sure what Justus based that assessment on, but it seemed his answer was a passing grade.

In truth, Harold had no intention of derailing the Original Story's flow. And since Justus was providing cover for his "silence," he wouldn't have to worry about his "Harold Mouth" ruining the disguise.

The only remaining question was whether or not he would kill Harrison.

In the game, there was no boss fight against Harrison himself. The primary struggle was against his pawns—the black-robed intruders Harold was now part of. Fighting three enemies with different styles was a hassle, and the experience and items they dropped were barely worth the effort.

As Harold recalled, the game version of Harrison was killed by his own automata. It looked like a sudden rebellion triggered by the death of one of their comrades, but after hearing Justus’s explanation, Harold suspected that Justus might have simply sent the "kill" command at that exact moment.

Then again, maybe their suppressed emotions really had just boiled over.

Regardless, Harrison was going to die. His death had almost zero impact on the overall plot. He was just a tool for Justus, unaware that he was being used, destined to leave this world while clutching a false plan he’d been fed.

If he survived, nothing would change. Given the scale of his crimes, he would likely be arrested for treason anyway.

Once Harrison's sins were brought to light, he would be dragged before the Deliberation Chamber. Justus, who planned to discard him from the start, certainly wouldn't lift a finger to save him.

The man was as good as dead. Harrison had more than earned a death sentence.

He was complicit in the bloody clash five years ago between the Knights, the Stella Clan, and the Empire. He had helped guide the Imperial Army into the kingdom; there was no talking his way out of that.

Countless people had died because of Harrison’s greed.

Harold knew the man deserved to die, yet he couldn't shake the visceral aversion to killing someone with his own hands. During the battle five years ago, he had nearly killed Ritzelt, but he’d been in a fugue state then, unable to control the "switch" in his mind.

Could he really become a "murderer" by his own will, without the excuse of a grand cause or self-defense? The fact that he was even asking the question suggested the answer was no.

Then again, even if he didn't kill the man personally, it wouldn't cause any problems.

"I’ll be handing you over to Harrison tonight. Don't cause any trouble."

With those final words, Harold returned to his room. He had more to think about now, but all things considered, this wasn't a bad development.

Being handed over to Harrison meant he would be, to some extent, away from Justus's direct supervision. For Harold, who needed more freedom of movement now that the story was starting, this was exactly what he wanted. Contacting El would be much easier now.

The only worry was the risk of being recognized by Rainer and the others, but as long as he handled that, the benefits far outweighed the costs.

Night fell. Dressed in a black robe that swallowed the light, Harold and the others were led to a tavern tucked away in a desolate, quiet back alley, far from the bustling central districts.

The interior was more than dim; it was pitch black, with barely enough light to see the floor. No one was drinking here.

In fact, there wasn't even a barkeep, let alone customers.

Despite the emptiness, the door had been unlocked. Justus’s messenger led them deeper into the shadows without a word until they reached a single door in the back.

Harold expected it to lead to a back alley, but instead, they found a stone staircase descending into the earth.

Four sets of footsteps echoed—clack, clack—as they went down. At the bottom was a large chamber of stacked stone. The ceiling was low, supported by thick pillars. The space was roughly the size of a tennis court.

"Ah, you've arrived."

The voice echoed through the gloom. The speaker was Harrison, sitting arrogantly at a round table. Just as in the game, he was a man with a bulging gut. If Harold were allowed to speak, he likely would have blurted out something like, “How rare to see livestock that can talk. Do you do tricks, too?”

The "mute" setting was a godsend.

"Are these the dolls the doctor mentioned?"

"Yes. You can expect them to serve as your loyal servants, Lord Harrison."

"Reliable, indeed. And their names?"

"They have none. You may call them whatever you wish, my Lord."

"Then 'dolls' it is. That's what the doctor called them."

Harold stood in silence, watching the exchange. The messenger spun a plausible tale: they had no names, their language centers had been tampered with during development, and while they were slow to react, they were perfectly obedient.

The most important takeaway was that Harrison was fully aware of Justus’s involvement. This meant that if things went south, Justus would likely silence Harrison himself to protect his own secrets.

Harrison was walking around with a massive death flag over his head. In that sense, they were practically kindred spirits.

Harold watched the scene play out for a few more minutes until the messenger finally departed.

Once they were alone, Harrison turned to Harold and the others. A greasy, repulsive smile was plastered across his face.

"Now, my loyal dolls. It is time for you to begin your work—for the sake of my sublime salvation."

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Author's Note: As mentioned in the activity report, Volume 3 of "Ore Fura" was released yesterday.

The light novel includes a new story where Erika works hard in her own maidenly way. If you're interested, please do pick up a copy!