Chapter 12: But I refuse

By the time Orlando reached the gates of Rantesti City, the sun was nearly setting.

The city gate was an arched stone doorway.

Four soldiers stood in the gate tunnel, holding halberds, their armor stained dark red by the sunset.

A short line had formed at the gate, with a few carriages and a dozen pedestrians waiting to enter the city.

When his turn came, Orlando pushed back his hood, revealing half his face.

A soldier held out his hand, palm up, and curled his fingers twice.

“Entrance fee, two coppers.”

Orlando fished out two coppers and placed them in the soldier’s hand.

“Anything else?”

“No.”

The soldier’s eyebrows furrowed together like two caterpillars.

He clenched the coppers in his fist and tilted his head to the side.

As Orlando walked past him, a faint voice came from behind:

“Penniless wretch.”

Twenty minutes later, he stood in front of the library.

It was a three-story stone building.

Much of the white plaster on the outer wall had peeled off, revealing the gray-black stone beneath.

The library floor was marble, polished to a mirror shine.

A fresco on the ceiling depicted several winged angels handing books to a robed old man—probably a bit of flattery.

At the front desk sat an old man wearing glasses, reading a newspaper.

The paper covered most of his face, revealing only a bald head and two hands resting on the table.

“What do you want?”

The voice was muffled, as if coming from the bottom of a barrel.

“To read.”

“Get out.”

“I just want to borrow a book—”

“No vagrants allowed.”

Orlando looked down at himself: gray cloak, mud-stained boots, tattered bag, stubbly face.

He really did look like a vagrant.

“I’m not a goddamn vagrant!”

The old man didn’t even look up.

He flipped a page of the newspaper with a rustle.

Orlando turned and walked out of the library.

He had to endure everything now.

He couldn’t reveal his identity.

If that bastard found out he was here, he didn’t know what would happen…

Then a hand clapped onto his shoulder.

The force wasn’t strong, but it was precise—right on the spot between his shoulder blade and neck.

His footsteps stopped.

He stood still, not turning around.

“Yo, long time no see. Not even a greeting?”

Von Brunswick’s voice came from behind.

Orlando took a deep breath, pulled his shoulder out from under that hand, and turned around.

The streetlight hit from the side, illuminating half of Von Brunswick’s face while the other half remained in shadow.

He had changed into a dark blue casual outfit, collar open, looking like he had just slipped out of someplace where formal wear wasn’t required.

“You might have mistaken me for someone else,” Orlando said.

Von Brunswick tilted his head, his expression saying, ‘Go on, I’m curious how far you’ll take this lie.’

“You’ve lost weight.”

Orlando fell silent.

He had nothing to say to this guy who had betrayed his teammate; he wished he could tear him apart right now.

But of course, out in public, he didn’t dare do that…

“Have you eaten?”

Von Brunswick asked.

“Yes, I have.”

Then came a deafening roar from his stomach.

“See? You haven’t eaten. Come on, my treat.”

The restaurant was small, with a narrow storefront.

A pot of stew, a basket of bread, two plates of roast meat, and a bowl of soup—enough for three people.

Von Brunswick picked up a piece of bread, broke it in half, and handed one half to Orlando.

“How did you escape?”

Orlando thought for a moment.

“After the teleportation array disappeared, I was locked in a cell. Later, during a guard shift change, one of them dozed off. I took the chance to strangle it with the chain, grabbed the keys, and ran.”

He’d made that up.

Escaping from under the Silver Dragon Queen’s nose was something no one would believe, but they’d have to take it or leave it.

Just how sensitive was the Silver Dragon Queen Astrid?

Could a dragon’s neural circuitry be the same as a human’s?

“What about her?”

Orlando asked.

“Who?”

“Elenora.”

“She left the party,” Von Brunswick said flatly, like reading a notice.

“Not long after we got back, maybe a month or two. She said she needed some time alone. The temple approved a long leave, and she went back to her hometown. No news since.”

Orlando understood.

She was probably unsettled by her teammate’s “death.”

Orlando picked up another piece of bread and broke it open.

Steam rose from the crack, blurring his vision.

“Don’t you want to see her?”

Von Brunswick’s voice came through the steam.

“She’s a noble lady. If you come back and become a dragonslayer again, you’ll have a chance to meet her.”

Orlando put the bread in his mouth and chewed.

The bread was still warm, but he couldn’t taste it.

“But I refuse.”

“Why?”

Orlando didn’t answer.

He scooped up a spoonful of stew—carrots, potatoes, and beef, simmered until tender and melting in his mouth.

On his third bite, Von Brunswick spoke again.

“In the emperor’s eyes, you’re already dead. Orlando Dellfort, a member of the Third Squad of the Royal Dragon-Slaying Corps, made a heroic sacrifice during the mission to subjugate the Silver Dragon Queen. Posthumously awarded an Imperial Cross Medal, and the pension has been delivered to his father, Aldric von Dahlfurt.”

He recited these words fluently, like reading an official document—because it was one.

Orlando’s spoon paused.

But he had already expected these people to do this.

“I can forge a new identity for you,” Von Brunswick’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“I have people in the empire. A new name, new records, a new military registration. No one will know you’re Orlando Dellfort. You can rejoin the Dragon-Slaying Corps under another identity.”

“No need.”

“But you always wanted to—”

“No need.”

“You really won’t go back?”

Von Brunswick set down his spoon.

It clinked against the rim of the bowl with a crisp sound.

“I’m not going back.”

“Not even consider it?”

“No consideration.”

“You—”

“I said, I’m not going back.”

Under Orlando’s triple strike of refusals, Brunswick said nothing more.

Orlando put down his spoon and stood up.

The chair legs scraped against the floor with a harsh screech.

A few other patrons in the restaurant glanced over, then turned back.

He pulled a few silver coins from his pocket, placed them on the table, and pushed them toward Von Brunswick.

“This meal is my treat.”

Von Brunswick looked at the silver coins, then at Orlando.

“Where did you get the money?”

“Earned it.”

With that, he turned and headed for the door.

He didn’t want to say any more to this bastard.

Someone who betrays you once will do it again, and again… Only a fool would trust him.

After two steps, Von Brunswick’s voice chased after him.

“Orlando, are you sure you won’t reconsider?”