Became the Villainess’s Guardian

The general Andre with whom I was conversing was a central military figure.
His very presence in determining the hero’s armaments affirmed this fact, corroborated by the information I had received from the embassy.

And as a de facto representative of the Belfast military establishment, the general, adorned with medals undoubtedly imbued with ballistic properties, delivered an impassioned oration:

“Offense is the ultimate defense!”

A doctrine of relentless offensive assaults leaving no respite for waning morale.
Yet for the Belfast Republic, such assertions did not lack substantiation.

Of course, history would not precisely mirror itself. Nevertheless, the past war records served as a valuable reference.
Inevitably, they recounted the initial setbacks culminating in Antrim’s recapture, triggering a counteroffensive – during which the hero had proclaimed:

“We now face an unprecedented crisis since the founding of our Republic!”

“For too long, we humans have suffered at the hands of the Demonic Tribe. We must prove, by our own volition and not another’s, that we no longer cower before them!”

And true to his words, the hero had blazed the most direct path to the Dark Lord’s stronghold, advancing at such a relentless pace that even his support battalions struggled to keep up, ultimately severing the Dark Lord’s head.

At that juncture, his statements rang true.
Humans had indeed been subdued by the Demonic Tribe’s superior physical attributes and reflexes. The sheer unprecedented scale of that invasion had further exacerbated their daunting predicament.
Hence, a morale boost had been imperative, and the abrupt shift to an offensive posture had likely caught the Demonic Tribe off-guard, facilitating their retreat.

I could comprehend Belfast’s eagerness to glorify the tactics that had ultimately secured their nation’s salvation, despite the recklessness.
Yet in my assessment, the hero’s preternatural prowess had been the pivotal factor.

“I understand the General’s intent.”

“As I expected, you grasp the essence, Magician. Some may argue for dispatching the hero while focusing on defense, but surely a single experience of being overwhelmed despite fortifying is sufficient?”

However, I could not presently interject to such a degree.
Unless outright warfare erupted, my input as a foreigner would amount to mere unsolicited advice, devoid of any substantive basis.

Yet in the [Londinium Survival Chronicle]’s world, no matter how distorted, I would have undoubtedly hurled my forces against the Demonic Tribe without hesitation.
And the outcome… well, the sheer devastation precluded any recounting.

So for now, I would acquiesce, content with gaining a broad strategic overview.

‘Should I advise Carno that this seems misguided?’

The thought had briefly crossed my mind, but I promptly dismissed it.
While he had extended me unusual courtesies, the likelihood of heeding claims premised solely on future knowledge was negligible.

Unless I outright dominated Antrim, which was not the case.

“Here are the military’s specific performance requirements. Can you accommodate these guidelines?”

“I shall commence work upon returning to Londinium. Ah, and if I may, General, a brief discussion?”

General Andre handed me a few documents.
As he turned to depart, I briefly detained him. While unable to challenge their doctrinal tenets, other matters still required my attention.

“What is it?”

“You are aware that I am affiliated with Ceres Martop, I presume.”

“Yes, I recall.”

“And I have recently established a new factory in Antrim that will be manufacturing automobiles, among other products.”

As a Ceres Martop salesman in addition to conducting research,
securing military contracts would bolster my influence – benefiting the martop’s revenue while enhancing our capability against the Demonic Tribe.

The general stroked his goatee contemplatively before responding:

“In mentioning this to me… are you implying they could serve military purposes?”

“Precisely. Would you have the time?”

After glancing at his timepiece and a moment’s deliberation, General Andre replied:

“As an invaluable partner, allocating some time should not prove difficult, Magician.”

After bidding Edan farewell, Freugne embarked upon a busy day.

Edan seemed to assume she would contentedly lounge about the hotel room or indulge in some casual shopping – activities she did not inherently object to. However, today’s urgencies precluded such leisurely pursuits.

Moreover, a gentle jog would scarcely suffice when the Demonic Tribe would quite literally pursue her with blades and firearms – she might need to outright sprint.

Consider encountering a famished bear while hiking.
To survive, one need only outpace their companion. But with Edan as that companion, she would need to devise a means for their mutual safe descent.

An ordinary person might sacrifice their companion as bait or resign themselves at this juncture.
Fortunately, Freugne was no ordinary individual and possessed the ability to foresee such bear encounters.

“Today, is it?”

“Yes.”

If evasion proved impossible, preemptive precautions could be taken.

“Please apprehend all the Demonic Tribe members at your worksite.”

Freugne issued these instructions to Ulr.

Coincidentally, today was the day Edan had mentioned returning late.
She had confirmed his arrival at the hotel past 10 PM, so she needed to complete her endeavors beforehand.

While Freugne determined their detention location, interrogation details, and double-checked future contingencies, Ulr prepared for work as usual.

Along the river bisecting central Antrim,
a vast warehouse now stood nearly complete at a former vacant riverside lot.

Shortly past lunchtime, the bustling workers jointly paused to admire the fruits of their collective labor, as if by prior arrangement.

“Just the roof remains. With the framework in place, four days should suffice, don’t you reckon?”

“Less than two months’ work, but you all toiled diligently! Let’s power through to the finish line.”

“I heard the foreman would treat us all to beer once it’s done. Was he serious? I could use a drink after all we’ve endured……”

“Now, now, the remaining materials haven’t arrived at the docks yet. Let’s call it a day and reconvene bright and early tomorrow.”

“Great work, everyone!!”

Like most urban laborers, no formal contracts had been drafted. Yet precisely because of their occupation, they adhered to implicit understandings:

Don’t shortchange their wages claiming they worked fifty minutes. Don’t threaten salary deductions for absences.
While grumbling about such miserly practices potentially affording affluent Antrim residences, they dispersed, steadfastly trusting the initial pledges accompanying their endeavors.

And among these laborers was Ulr.

“Good work. Here’s an extra five pennies for you – just don’t blab to the others.”

“I hold this in high regard.”

“Right, if there are any other similar gigs, don’t forget to contact me. I’ll compensate you better than those schmucks. Got it?”

Despite the preferential treatment, the wages remained paltry, the weather sweltering, and hauling lumber and rebar arduous.
Yet Ulr had persevered diligently for over a month and a half, earning the foreman’s begrudging respect for his tenacity.

Not out of fear for any reprisals Freugne might inflict – she was not so petty as to purge subordinates over trivial matters.

Rather, Ulr had embraced this as a form of self-discipline.
It even seemed to suit his inclinations. Perhaps, had he never encountered Freugne, he might have found himself toiling in Londinium’s underbelly.

While seldom outwardly expressive due to his taciturn nature, he derived a sense of fulfillment from strengthening himself through such exertions.
Day by day, the menial labor had fortified him, honing dexterities that could handle even 3-nanometer processes with just a hammer, grinder, and pliers.

“Uver! Not joining us today?”

“No. I’m rather fatigued today, so I’ll retire.”

“Suit yourself. Get some rest while you can – the less I have to cover for you, the better. Hahaha!”

But all endeavors inevitably reach their conclusion.
Having once again slipped away under the pretext of remitting funds and letters to his awaiting family back home, Ulr made a circuitous detour before eavesdropping at the Demonic Tribe’s warehouse rendezvous.

“No one else around?”

“Yeah, yeah. So let’s crack open some booze already.”
“Hiya, clocking out early is great. Wish it were like this every day.”

Ulr gripped a sturdy club – a firearm, while obtainable, risked drawing undue attention.
Above all, Freugne had instructed him to capture the Demonic Tribe alive if possible. So he intended to apprehend all five unharmed.

-Whooosh

A wispy vapor trailed through the crisp air, emanating from the empty void.