Ah, it was just a dream.
I realise it immediately. It’s a dream I’ve had countless times, again and again.

“Hey, Roa, are you still reading those antiquated books?” my roommate Derrick teases me. He was an irresponsible worker and a womanizer, but naturally sociable and quite dependable when it came to negotiations.

“I’m about to head to bed,” Jord says with a laidback yawn. This person on the other hand was a diligent worker. He had an introverted character but was also pretty carefree.

We 3 made a good team. As civilian officers, our daily lives were without trouble and peaceful. We would occasionally go out for drinks after work, but other than that, we immersed ourselves in our hobbies.

I thought that tranquil life would never end.

How many times will I be shown this nightmare?

Derrick and Jord both look just as they did back then. I am the only one who’s aged.

Forty years have passed since then. Forty years since my country perished.

My friends, colleagues, and superiors all died in the castle that day.

I remained.

How many times will seeing this dream bring me salvation? Or is this… punishment for surviving? If so… I’d rather…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey! Roa! How long you planning to sleep to for? You’re going to be late, zo”

My head awakens at the familiar voice. It’s Derrick’s, and he’s yanking away my futon.

“Ahre? Derrick? Why are you in my room? Am I finally dead?”

Derrick looks at me as though I were an odd person at that slip up.

“…Has it happened, Roa? Have you’ve finally gone crazy from reading too many old books?”
“Eh? That’s because you’re, already… ah, is this another dream?”

“Hey, Derrick, isn’t Roa still half asleep.” Jord laughs with those words.

“Jord… you’re also…”  I spontaneously begin to cry.

Concerned, Jord gives a bewildered, “Are you really alright? You don’t have a fever, do you? Do your hobbies in moderation…”

“Roa has clearly read too many battlefield logs and can no longer tell apart reality from fiction.”

I watch their conversation in a daze. Then, I glance down at my hands.

They’re firm.

This is not the aged skin of a man in his 60s. I cautiously pinch it, and it feels reals. When I pinch it a bit harder, I actually feel some pain.

“What’s… today’s day?”

At those words, the 2 look at me with growing concern.

“Hey, are you really alright? How about taking today off…”
“No, Derrick, I’m fine. I’m… fine. Just tell me, when is today?”

“—Year 138 of the Ureo Calander, the 1^st day of the 13^th month.”

From what Derrick tells me, the date is exactly 2 years before my country, the Rudek Kingdom, is destroyed.

〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜〜

“Hey, Roa, are you seriously alright?”  Jord asks me with concern as we walk down the corridor from our quarters in the castle to our workplace in a corner of the royal palace.

“Yeah. I just wasn’t fully awake yet.” I give a vague reply.

I was not half asleep. I have 42 years’ worth of memories that start from here. There is no way that this is a memory from a dream.

I don’t know why, but I returned 42 years into the past. By some chance, this could be a dream, but I very much doubt that.

Even if for arguments sake this is just a dream, or a delusion born from my last moments, by returning to the past I might be able to change that predetermined destruction. If I can rescue my friends from that nightmare, from dying—

It might be completely beyond my ability to do anything about it, but even if that’s the case, if I can let those close to me escape…

While I am single-mindedly drifting along in my sea of thoughts, Derrick calls out to me in dismay.

“Seriously, just how much did you read yesterday? We’re going to get busy behind the scenes with preparations for the departure soon.”

Just as Derrick said, my hobby is collecting war records of battles from all over the world. I read old records and inquire about new battles. I am a bit famous among my fellow civilian officers, although as an eccentric.

“If you like wars so much, why don’t you just serve in the army?” I have been asked such by my colleagues, but I am nowhere near brave enough for something like that. I don’t do well with blood. I much more prefer my stories in a safe place.

They are probably thinking I was simply half asleep after staying up late into the night reading war records again. But then they saw I was fine after a few minutes and didn’t say anything more about it.

At any rate, Derrick just now said preparations for the departure. Were there any major campaigns at this time?

“…Departure? To where?”

“How can a man who loves war as much as you forget about a departure in three days… are you seriously alright? Hora, there’s been an outbreak of bandits in a western village, right? Won’t a strike force be sent out for this?”

“Routing bandits in a western village… Ah, there indeed was such a campaign during this time. Right, that battle…”

“This will most likely be a one-sided suppression, so it probably isn’t of any interest to Roa.”

I deny Jord’s words with a shake of my head.

“No, this battle isn’t going to end so easily. It’s the village lord who’s pulling the strings, after all.”

Those words I carelessly let out will greatly change my destiny and the destiny of this country.

---

T/N: For anyone wondering, this story was meant to be for someone else to pick up, but circumstances got in the way.  A few chapters have been translated though, so it would be a shame not to post them.

~Gandire Alea

2. The King’s Eyes>