The banquet lasted until nearly midnight.

  At first the tent had been quite lively—the clinking of glasses, polite laughter, and a few small debates about territories and last year’s harvest. But as the night grew later, the atmosphere gradually softened. Some of the older nobles gathered into smaller groups, slowly sipping wine and speaking at the measured pace of people long accustomed to social gatherings like this. Others began to take their leave, calling for their attendants to bring lamps.

  Philip watched the scene for a while.

  If he were being honest, this was probably the most suitable moment.

  He had already completed most of the necessary introductions. Names, territories, even the number of soldiers each person had brought—Philip had managed to remember these things fairly clearly. At least, within the limits that etiquette allowed one to ask.

  So now, only one task remained.

  Philip set his silver cup down on the table and walked toward the corner of the tent. Roland was standing there, slightly bent over as he carefully packed away the magical items he had displayed earlier that evening.

  “Sir Roland.”

  Roland looked up. Recognizing Philip, he gave a small nod.

  “Lord Montserrat. How has your evening been?”

  “More interesting than I expected,” Philip replied, his voice maintaining the proper politeness of a young noble. “I had the opportunity to make the acquaintance of quite a few people.”

  Roland chuckled softly.

  “That was the purpose of the banquet, after all.”

  He closed the lid of the small wooden box in front of him and set it aside. Then Roland glanced toward the row of tables where his magical items were still resting in place.

  “As for this part of my evening…” he said, with a hint of self-mockery in his tone, “it seems it was not particularly successful.”

  Philip did not answer immediately. He tilted his head slightly, as if weighing his words carefully.

  “Perhaps it isn’t because they lack value.”

  Roland raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

  “It’s simply… not the most convenient time,” Philip said. “At the moment, many lords are probably thinking more about grain stores, new armor, or warhorses. A cup that preserves temperature—no matter how refined—has difficulty competing with those things.”

  Roland let out a quiet laugh.

  “You’re more direct than I expected.”

  “My apologies if I sounded discourteous.”

  “Not really.” Roland shook his head. “You only said what most people in this tent are probably thinking.”

  He leaned lightly against the table.

  “Still, I need money.”

  Philip noticed that statement.

  Roland continued calmly.

  “War consumes many things. Food, armor, medicine… and sometimes research that others consider somewhat useless.”

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  “Magic,” Philip said.

  “That’s right.”

  Roland answered very naturally, seemingly unconcerned that most nobles in the kingdom were not particularly fond of magic.

  Philip remained silent for a few seconds.

  In his mind, several scattered thoughts slowly began to connect. A noble knight so fascinated by magic that he was willing to bring small items to sell at a banquet. A man who needed money—something not uncommon, but with Roland it seemed to carry a different meaning.

  And more importantly, someone bold enough to organize tonight’s gathering.

  Philip spoke slowly.

  “Sir Roland, may I ask a somewhat… delicate question?”

  Roland shrugged.

  “Go ahead.”

  “What do you think about this campaign?”

  Roland looked at him for a few seconds.

  “In what capacity are you asking?”

  Philip smiled slightly.

  “Just a minor noble trying to understand the situation.”

  Roland let out a quiet breath.

  “Then I’ll answer accordingly.”

  He folded his arms.

  “We were summoned by the Count. That much is certainly true.”

  “There is supposedly a rebel force somewhere in the region… that may also be true.”

  Roland gave a small shrug.

  “But if everything were as simple as described in the summons… I wouldn’t entirely believe it.”

  Philip nodded.

  “You may not be the only one thinking that.”

  Roland studied him more carefully.

  Philip continued, his voice still calm and measured.

  “Most of the people present at tonight’s banquet share something in common.”

  Roland said nothing, but his expression showed he was listening.

  “We all come from small territories.”

  Philip said it plainly.

  “Each of us brings perhaps a few dozen soldiers, at most a few hundred.”

  He paused for a moment.

  “In large campaigns, forces like that are often used… rather directly.”

  Roland gave a dry smile.

  “You mean the front line.”

  Philip did not deny it.

  “That has happened more than once. At least, the kingdom’s history seems to suggest so.”

  The atmosphere between them grew slightly heavier.

  Philip continued.

  “Tonight I spoke with quite a few people. They were all very polite. Very confident.”

  He hesitated slightly.

  “But if we say that none of them are worried… that might not be entirely accurate.”

  Roland was silent for a moment before asking,

  “So what exactly are you suggesting?”

  Philip tilted his head.

  “Just a thought.”

  He spoke more slowly now, choosing his words carefully.

  “Not a formal alliance.”

  Roland raised an eyebrow.

  “Simply… temporary cooperation between the people present here.”

  Philip continued.

  “For example, exchanging information.”

  “If one unit encounters trouble, the others might learn about it sooner.”

  “If the situation on the battlefield changes… at least we won’t be the last to know.”

  He paused briefly.

  “And if absolutely necessary, smaller forces might support each other to a certain extent.”

  Roland smiled faintly.

  “That sounds rather like a noble alliance.”

  Philip shook his head immediately.

  “A formal alliance would attract the Count’s attention.”

  He spoke calmly.

  “And that would probably benefit no one.”

  Roland nodded slowly.

  Philip continued.

  “But if the people who became acquainted at this banquet… simply keep in contact during the campaign…”

  “It would be difficult for anyone to call that a problem.”

  Roland thought for a moment.

  “Then why bring this up with me?”

  Philip smiled lightly.

  “Because this banquet belongs to you.”

  Roland did not respond immediately.

  Philip continued.

  “You were the one who invited them.”

  “They came.”

  “That alone suggests they respect you to some extent.”

  He glanced around the tent. A few nobles were still talking, but many were preparing to leave.

  Philip turned back.

  “If anyone here has the position to suggest a small degree of cooperation among the people present… it would most likely be the host of the banquet.”

  Roland looked at him for quite a long time.

  Then he laughed.

  “Lord Montserrat.”

  “Yes?”

  “How old are you… really?”

  Philip shrugged.

  “Younger than most people in this tent.”

  Roland shook his head, still smiling.

  “How interesting.”

  He straightened up.

  “At first I only intended to sell a few magical items.”

  Roland looked toward the remaining nobles.

  “But your idea… when I think about it carefully, it seems far more practical.”

  He turned back.

  “Very well.”

  “Let’s give it a try.”

  Philip bowed his head slightly.

  “Thank you.”

  Roland waved his hand.

  “Don’t thank me yet.”

  He smiled.

  “Convincing a group of older nobles to cooperate with one another… might be far more difficult than selling a magical cup.”

  Philip smiled as well.

  “Perhaps.”

  He looked around the tent once more.

  “But tonight… we may already have a decent beginning.”

  Roland nodded.

  Outside the tent, the night wind moved across the dark fields.

  The campaign had not yet begun.

  But in a small corner of the military camp, Philip could almost be certain that something had already started—though at this moment, no one had officially given it a name.

  To be precise, it was slowly beginning to take the shape of a noble alliance, even if no one had openly called it that yet.