Nolan gave a noncommittal smile. He couldn't exactly go around telling people that Crown Prince Godwyn was going to die. That would be a blatant slap in the face of the Golden Order Dynasty.
Would Lord Consort Radagon tolerate talk like that? Would Queen Marika, who was always stirring things up, let him off easily? And would those lurking schemers and opportunists, eager to make a spectacle out of Godwyn's death, really spare him?
If anything, he might end up dying even sooner than Godwyn.
Seeing that her friend didn't argue back, Finlay nodded once more. As they headed upstairs, she paused slightly, her steps faltering for just a moment.
Nolan was just starting to feel puzzled when the knight commander suddenly asked, "Let me ask you something. If war really does break out, do you think you can lead troops in battle?"
Did that even need to be asked?
Nolan raised an eyebrow. He had taken military courses at the Haligtree, and in his previous life he'd played strategy games like Total War.
But personally commanding troops on the battlefield was another matter entirely. He couldn't honestly say he felt confident.
It was true that he had once been a king in Dark Souls, but he'd never led an army in an actual campaign. Charging alone into an entire legion, on the other hand, was something he'd done plenty of times. His throne had been carved out with nothing but his own blade.
After he burned himself out, those who longed for the light praised his feats and strength, granting him the title "Lord of Cinder." It wasn't because he had truly ruled over countless people.
The title itself carried no deeper meaning. Everyone simply knew that when this king burned himself out for the final time, that world would sink into an abyss of despair, beyond any hope of salvation.
"Leading a small squad is manageable," Nolan said. "But commanding a large army? I really have no experience at all."
Finlay, of course, knew how spotless his life record was, so she nodded in understanding.
"That's fair. You do lack experience. I'll find a chance for you to try."
"You make it sound like this is some kind of game where you can just experiment whenever you want," Nolan said, rolling his eyes.
War was anything but simple. Every decision a commander made could reshape the entire battlefield and decide the life or death of countless people.
"You can build experience step by step," Finlay said with a smile. "It's not like I'll throw you straight into commanding thousands and send you off to war."
As she spoke, she seemed to already see Nolan galloping across the Lands Between, commanding armies with confidence and flair.
When that time came, Nolan would take charge of the army, while she herself would serve as the vanguard, charging headfirst into battle. If she could run into evenly matched opponents along the way, especially Demigods, that would make it truly satisfying.
"Back when I watched you in class, I could already tell you had real talent for military matters. Compared to you, that idiot Arl is just a fool."
"Hey! If you two want to chat, fine, but why drag me into it?"
A Cleanrot Knight patrolling along the wall raised a hand in protest, his irritation obvious.
But when Finlay shot him a vaguely threatening look, he immediately shrank back and wisely shut his mouth.
Ignoring him, Finlay continued. "Strength alone isn't everything. To govern a realm, you also need wisdom. Take His Highness Miquella, or the First Elden Lord—didn't the Queen also appoint a beast as her chancellor?"
"I'll make time later to teach you. We'll study military strategy properly."
Nolan didn't respond. It was a valid path for growth, but his immediate priority was still to strengthen himself. Once he had a solid foundation, setting aside time to study wouldn't be a problem.
"Alright, let's go in," Finlay said. "His Highness Miquella is waiting for you inside."
She came to a slow stop and stepped aside, revealing the heavy door before them.
Nolan let out a helpless, wry smile. He couldn't help wondering why His Highness always seemed to prefer meeting him alone.
He straightened his slightly disheveled armor and the hem of his clothes, took a deep breath, and placed his hand against the thick door.
At the same time, the surrounding knights all turned their heads away in unspoken agreement, as though they instinctively knew they weren't meant to see what lay beyond.
Nolan gently pushed the door open and stepped across the threshold into the room.
What greeted him was a room no different from an ordinary young girl's boudoir. He searched around, yet not a single document was to be found. Clearly, this was not a place where His Highness handled official affairs.
The pure glow of the full moon streamed through the window, leaving the far corners of the room steeped in shadow.
On the bed lay a young girl sprawled lazily, like a goddess out of myth.
A faint veil of moonlight draped over her like soft gauze. Her small, delicate feet swayed playfully back and forth in the air.
Propping her head up slightly, the goddess gazed out the window. Her eyes shone like stars, and a bright smile curved her lips, lovely yet carrying a trace of sacred grace.
The sight carved itself deep into Nolan's vision. His heart settled at once as he fixed this breathtaking tableau firmly in his memory.
Cool moonlight spilled across the room. The bed curtains swayed gently, lending the space a hazy, mysterious air.
Loneliness lingered in the dim chamber. Nolan quietly closed the door, his gaze drifting in a daze over everything before him. The girl seemed completely unaware, like a flawless painting come to life.
"Ahem."
The soft cough shattered the silence. The girl on the bed slowly sat up, looking at the loyal knight before her with an ambiguous, knowing smile.
At her prompt, Nolan reacted instantly. He dropped to one knee and called out loudly, "Your Highness!"
Miquella seemed to see straight through the knight's thoughts. Whenever he summoned this Golden Needle Knight alone, more often than not, it was Trina who came out to meet him.
Nolan lifted his head. Tonight, the saintly lady had braided her hair in an ancient style, making her look every bit the holy and noble Saintess.
"Good evening, my knight."
Trina's voice was soft and gentle. Her gaze rested on Nolan, carrying a faint smile.
Nolan's expression remained still and unfathomable, as calm as an ancient well, severe like a warrior risen from the depths of hell.
Yet inwardly, he could not help but complain.
It was rare for Her Highness not to tease him with Miquella's charm today. Instead, she radiated a different kind of allure altogether. It was oddly unsettling.
Despite his inner grumbling, Nolan maintained a rigidly serious demeanor on the surface.
No matter how small and delicate Her Highness appeared, she was far stronger than a mere knight like him.
"Nolan, come over. Sit here," Trina said, extending her hand and lightly patting the space beside her.
Nolan did not hesitate. He walked steadily to the bedside and sat down openly, without the slightest hint of awkwardness.
All he felt was how soft the bed was, as though it might swallow him whole. Other than that, nothing felt out of the ordinary.
Besides, it wasn't as if he had the strength to replace Radahn as the Promised Consort. Miquella could not possibly have designs on his body.
No need to let his thoughts wander. After knowing each other for so long, it was best to think of her as just a normal friend.
And even if he did not think that way, there was no alternative anyway. It was not as though he could resist.