CHAPTER 132: CHAPTER 132 - ROLPH DRAGONAIR

The wind shifted.

It carried the faint tang of metal and the heavier scent of leather and sweat.

Luca’s steps slowed, his shoulders instinctively tensing as the figure ahead came into focus—broad-shouldered, encased in dented but well-kept armor, a mace resting with casual familiarity in one gauntleted hand. Behind him, a half-dozen soldiers fanned out, their eyes sharp, tracking every small movement Luca and Celestia made.

The air between the two groups tightened, like a bowstring drawn to its limit.

Luca flicked his gaze sideways, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Why... why are they able to see and interact with us?"

Celestia didn’t look at him, her own eyes fixed warily on the approaching men. "Remember," she murmured, the faintest crease between her brows, "I wrapped myself around you. My body is strong enough to withstand the time–space tunnel. So..."

Luca’s throat felt dry. "So we’re actually here—with our physical bodies."

The warrior’s voice cut through the tension like a blade scraping stone. "What are you whispering about? Introduce yourselves."

Luca’s mind spun, trying to land on a safe answer. His pulse thudded at the base of his neck. Before he could speak, Celestia stepped forward, her chin lifted with imperial composure.

"We are here to participate," she said smoothly, her tone steady but her fingers tightening slightly at her sides. "We heard of an impending battle against the Devil Emperor’s forces. We wish to contribute... and seek the lives of those devil lackeys."

The man’s eyes narrowed, the suspicion still there but dulled by a fraction. "State your names."

Celestia opened her mouth. "I am Celestia—"

Luca’s hand shot out, wrapping around her wrist. She turned sharply toward him, brows arched in silent question. His eyes spoke the rest: Don’t.

He cleared his throat and stepped forward. "Ah, I am Luca Barney... and this is Cecil... Barney."

A flicker of disbelief flashed in Celestia’s gaze. What are you doing?

Luca ignored it, forcing a neutral smile.

The warrior studied them both a moment longer, then grunted. "Let’s go. I’ll take you to the main camp. We’ll see what to do with you there. And don’t try anything until then."

Luca gave a curt nod. The soldiers closed in, forming a loose but unmistakable circle as they started forward. The sound of armor plates shifting and boots crunching the dirt was constant in Luca’s ears.

As they walked, Celestia leaned in slightly, her voice low but edged with irritation. "What’s with the names? Why change them? I am an empress—how can I change my name?"

"Your Majesty," Luca said, his voice equally low, "did you forget? We’re seven thousand years in the past. Our ancestors are here. You think the Dragonair and Valentine names are common? Using them will only raise suspicion."

He glanced at her sideways, smirking faintly. "Besides, they’ll just assume we’re brother and sister anyway."

Celestia’s lips flattened at that, her eyes narrowing in quiet disapproval. She said nothing, but the faint wrinkle between her brows deepened.

The camp unfolded before them, a sea of tents stretching far beyond the first ridge. Sunlight glinted off spear tips, and the distant clang of weapons on training dummies carried through the air.

Luca slowed, his eyes widening. "There must be thousands of tents here... are all these people going to fight in the war?"

One of the soldiers glanced over his shoulder, his face grim. "These are still too few. We’ll need twice this number if we want to stand a chance."

For the first time since they’d arrived, a flicker of surprise broke through Celestia’s calm mask. She met Luca’s gaze, and in that brief look, both seemed to understand the sheer scale of what they’d stumbled into.

The warrior with the mace stopped abruptly. "Enough. We’ve reached the main tent." It loomed larger than the rest, its thick canvas reinforced and its poles carved with markings Luca didn’t recognize.

"I’ll inform the great commanders. They’ll decide if you’re spies for the devils or not."

Without waiting for a reply, he pushed aside the heavy flap and stepped inside, leaving Luca and Celestia outside under the weight of a dozen watchful stares.

Luca shifted his weight from one foot to the other, feeling the prickling weight of the soldiers’ eyes on his back. The warrior with the mace had disappeared into the main tent, leaving them under silent guard. The stillness was suffocating.

He glanced at the soldier who had spoken earlier.

"Hey, friend," Luca tried, keeping his tone light. "Who are these ’great commanders’ he mentioned?"

The man snorted. "Hmph. You come here and don’t even know the names of the great commanders?" His eyes swept over Luca as if weighing his worth. "Right now, only Sir Rolph Dragonair is here. The others will arrive in a few days."

Luca’s gaze flicked to Celestia. Her eyes widened the barest fraction. He exhaled slowly. Thank the stars I didn’t use our real names.

Celestia’s voice, calm but edged with curiosity, cut in. "What kind of man is he?"

The soldier’s expression softened with respect. "Sir Rolph is... more than a commander. Born with the blood of ancient dragon kin, they say his aura alone can quell a battlefield. He’s never lost a duel, commands with both strength and honor, and has saved more lives than anyone in this war. If he’s here, it means victory is still possible." The man’s eyes glinted. "But make no mistake—he suffers no fools. If you lie, he’ll see straight through you."

Luca swallowed, a knot forming in his stomach.

Before Celestia could ask more, the tent flap burst open. The warrior with the mace stepped out.

"You two—inside. Sir Rolph wants to meet you."

They followed him into the tent.

The air inside was warmer, heavy with the scent of parchment, oil, and steel. Maps stretched across a long table, candles flickering over their surface. At the far end sat a man with sun-gold hair that caught the light like fire. His golden eyes lifted to meet theirs, scanning them with a warmth that somehow didn’t lessen the sharpness of his gaze. His presence pressed against the air like an unseen weight—steady, unshakable, and impossible to ignore.

"So," he said, voice deep but inviting, "these are the siblings you spoke of?"

"Yes, Sir," the warrior replied.

Rolph stood, his movements unhurried but powerful. "I am Rolph Dragonair. Welcome to the Savior Camp."

Luca and Celestia inclined their heads.

Rolph’s gaze shifted back to the warrior. "There’s no problem with them. The man has the makings of a warrior. As for the woman..." His tone softened slightly. "...she is ordinary. No power."

Luca’s head snapped toward Celestia. Her face was a mask—calm, unreadable—but his thoughts raced. Ordinary? Is she hiding her strength... maybe an artifact? But why?

Rolph went on. "Assign the younger brother to the 56th Cavalry. As for his sister, have her help with chores."

Her Majesty... doing chores? The thought hit like a punch. Luca could already see the disaster unfolding—her pride, her temper. He risked a glance at her. Her lips were pressed tight, her eyes sharp.

The words left his mouth before he could think. "You misunderstood, Sir. She’s not my sister—she’s my wife."

A silence fell. Rolph’s brow lifted slightly. His gaze slid to the warrior.

"They have the same surname," the warrior said after a pause. "Given their age gap, I assumed..."

Luca felt Celestia’s gaze boring into him from the side—sharp enough to cut steel.

Rolph turned back to him. "Even so, that doesn’t explain why she can’t help with chores."

Luca’s mind scrambled for an answer. His palms felt damp. His jaw set. "She... she’s actually p-pregnant, Sir."

The air between him and Celestia thickened. He could practically hear the fury radiating from her, though her expression stayed frozen in an almost regal stillness.

Rolph’s expression softened immediately. "Oh. Then I apologize. You needn’t do anything strenuous." His gaze warmed. "Take care of her. You can go now—Mr. Banner here will show you to your quarters."

They bowed slightly and left. In few minutes Mr. Banner arrived.

As he led them to the far edge of the camp, where the tents grew smaller and sparser. He stopped at a modest one—barely large enough for two or three people. "This will be your residence. You’ll be summoned if needed."

Luca gave him a look that screamed don’t leave me here alone, but the man simply nodded and turned away.

The moment he was out of sight, a sound broke the quiet—a slow, deliberate cracking of knuckles.

Luca froze, then turned stiffly, almost mechanically.

Celestia stood there, eyes narrowed, a faint, icy smile curving her lips.

"Married. Pregnant. Hah..." Her voice was smooth, but it carried the weight of a drawn blade. "Don’t you think you should explain something to me, husband?"