“You must be the lord, right?”
Graham looked at the man who had suddenly appeared and was now staring at him.
‘A madman?’
He looked like he would fit right in if he were drooling. His torn padded armor, old scabbard, and dented helmet all pointed to it. Outwardly, he looked like just a crazed man, but Graham gripped his sword and shield and took a stance.
The man with the shabby appearance let out a breath, blinked his bloodshot eyes a few times, and spoke.
“I'm busy. I'll make this quick.”
His tone was casual, but the killing intent within it was extraordinary. As soon as he finished speaking, a roar erupted from up ahead.
Waaaaah!
It was from the battlefield. He thought he could hear a name amidst the cheers, but it was too far away to be heard clearly. Graham had been moving with the intention of gathering all his forces, including the rear units, to mount a defense if a full-scale battle broke out.
Because having even one more person who could fight, whether the situation was advantageous or not, would be the way to reduce allied casualties. Then, this man had suddenly popped out from the bushes next to the camp and blocked his path. There were almost no soldiers around.
Supply unit or not, all eyes were focused on the front lines at that moment.
Shing.