The Water Magician

Ryo, along with Abel and the party led by Wei Feng, returned to the "Dragon Spring Residence" after clearing out their waiting area.

"I knew you were hiding and following us," Ryo said.

"Yeah. The four people Ryo mentioned before, I could sense them moving as they followed us," Abel replied.

"Abel, you figured that out even without using magic!" Ryo exclaimed in surprise.

"I was able to catch their presence among the twelve," Abel said, nodding happily.

It seemed he felt he wasn't to be underestimated.

Seeing this, Ryo looked somewhat frustrated for some reason.

"What kind of man are you, a swordsman, encroaching on a mage's territory! Aren't you ashamed?" Ryo scolded.

"Not at all," Abel responded confidently.

The "Dragon Spring Residence" welcomed them just as it had before.

Even though their master was detained, it seemed they wouldn't be persecuted or kicked out.

"As expected from a first-class inn," Ryo praised.

"Well, it's only natural, right?" Abel replied.

"What are you saying? A common pattern is to be told 'Pack your things and get out!' and then when you step outside, enemies are waiting to ambush you. They’d say something like, 'Foolish subordinates! I'll end your lives along with your master!'"

Ryo spoke passionately about the classic development typical of light novels.

Abel shook his head gently.

"I always think, Ryo, you come up with story ideas one after another. Your imagination is amazing."

"Ah, it's nothing special," Ryo replied modestly.

"Yeah, I'm not complimenting you," Abel pointed out, teasing Ryo who blushed at the misunderstanding.

The world is made of miscommunications.

The party returned to their rooms, took turns bathing, and then gathered again in front of the dining hall.

"Ah, the bath feels great. It washes away the fatigue of the day," Ryo said.

"I agree, but it seems there's a fatigue that can't be washed away," Abel remarked, looking tired as he observed the faces of his companions.

Although they had gathered, everyone looked unwell.

Given the situation, it was hardly surprising.

Their master had been restrained after drawing his sword within the Imperial Palace.

Even if they were informed that he was being treated properly in the Censorate, it was only natural to feel anxious.

"I'm not feeling hungry," murmured Nuan, the female vice-captain.

"I understand. But there’s a saying in my homeland: 'You can't fight on an empty stomach.' We should always be prepared to fight at any time. If we need to rescue Mr. Von Dobre and find ourselves too hungry to muster our strength, it would be a problem, wouldn't it? I believe it’s our duty as subordinates to remain prepared for when the time comes," Ryo said gently, not harshly, wanting all ten subordinates present to hear his words.

"That's right; I think Ryo-san is right," Wei Feng nodded in agreement.

"For the lord’s sake, we should always be ready to give our all. Fortunately, it seems they are considering the possibility of manipulation in the Censorate. Of course, even if we don't achieve acquittal... there is a chance to return without losing our lives."

As Wei Feng spoke, the other subordinates nodded in agreement.

Ryo and Abel also nodded at this sight.

Hope is important.

If you lose hope, the possibility of reckless outbursts arises.

That is something no one desires.

"Alright, let's go into the dining hall," Wei Feng said.

"Yes," the other nine responded, and Ryo and Abel nodded as well.

First, they needed to fill their stomachs!

The twelve of them were led to a table set for six.

Today, there was no piano present.

"There's no piano today," Ryo said, sounding somewhat disappointed.

"I saw earlier at the entrance that a bard named Wana Shee would be singing," Abel replied.

Indeed, a high chair was placed at the front.

"Oh! That sounds exciting!" Ryo said, his face lighting up.

When he was in the kingdom, he had heard bards singing while playing the lute.

He had even heard performances by bards at the "Café de Chocolat - Royal Capital Branch," a regular hangout.

The lute played by bards from the Central Nations was akin to a small guitar.