The Desert People

The sound of chalk echoed through the classroom as Wisdom, the teacher, spoke. On the blackboard was a map depicting the western regions of Britannia.

“Thus, thanks to the Holy King’s efforts, we temporarily achieved peace with the natives known as the Desert People. However, that peace did not last long. When famine struck them again, a great war broke out, ending in a stalemate. Since then, both sides have maintained a policy of mutual non-interference. Any questions?”

Suppressing his drowsiness, Arthur glanced sideways and saw Bedie diligently copying the notes in neat handwriting.

After the Founding Festival, Arthur had returned to his routine, now studying the tribes that lived around Britannia.

“Yes!! Britannia’s national power is far greater, so why don’t we pursue peace with them? Having a hostile people nearby must be unsettling…”

“Hmm, an excellent question. What do you think, Lord Arthur?”

Arthur, who had nearly drifted into the world of dreams, was suddenly called upon and panicked. Wisdom and Bedie’s eyes focused on him, and he began to sweat.

‘This is bad… If I answer carelessly, Morgan will hear about it.’

Half-listening because of sleepiness, he forced his brain to come up with an answer—and fragments of memories from before his return to life surfaced.

“They can’t take a hard stance against the Desert People because of their fighting style. They use nimble weapons suited for desert combat, take advantage of the terrain, and command desert-dwelling monsters. Fighting them without preparation is suicide. On the other hand, they’re not used to battles in grasslands or forests, so Britannia’s knights would easily win there. That’s why both sides have chosen mutual non-interference.”

“As expected of Lord Arthur. You speak as though you’ve actually witnessed their battles firsthand.”

Arthur gave a faint smile at Wisdom’s light remark—because, in truth, he had. Every word he’d spoken came from the experiences of the knights who once guarded him.

During the revolution, there had been a time when he fled to the desert. The terror of that memory remained vivid even now.

In the pitch-black desert, his guards had fallen one after another. Shamanic attacks using strange desert monsters, sleepless nights under constant threat—every moment had been filled with fear. And worst of all, the hunger and thirst had been unbearable.

Poverty in the desert was agony beyond words, worsened by the harshness of the land itself. It was an experience he never wanted to repeat again.

“In short, the Desert People are powerful in the desert, but on open plains they’re no match for Britannia’s knights. As long as they don’t attack us with suicidal intent, there’s no problem—hence, mutual non-interference. Understood?”

“Yes!! The characteristics of each region really do matter… That was very enlightening, thank you!”

Watching Bedie take notes so enthusiastically, Arthur observed him with distant amusement. The Desert People were indeed troublesome, but he had only met them back then because the revolution forced him into the desert. Now that his execution fate was gone, he saw no reason ever to deal with them again…

All he could think about now was how much he wanted to eat a sweet treat made from golden wheat with Kei.

“As expected of Lord Arthur—he had already researched the Desert People in such depth…”

“In that case, perhaps he foresaw this as well. How far ahead does that man truly see…?”

When Wisdom went to report after the lesson, Morgan expressed her astonishment. Arthur’s words earlier had sounded as though he had anticipated the problem described in the recent report from her subordinates.

“Still, I can’t believe the Desert People would bare their fangs at Britannia… They must know that in an all-out war, they would lose due to the difference in national power.”

Clutching the letter, Morgan gazed toward the border where the report had originated, her expression grim.