Translator: CinderTL
Hearing Gloria's question, Roland raised his gaze and, for the first time, truly scrutinized the Imperial Princess before him with a discerning eye.
Her signature long golden hair had been meticulously coiled up for ease of movement, revealing her slender neck and sharp profile.
Her face remained as exquisitely refined as a classical sculpture, and her azure eyes still radiated their usual calm and decisiveness.
Yet, deep within that familiar cerulean depths, Roland detected a faint glimmer he had never noticed before.
It seemed as if some indescribable, fervent, and boundless desire was flickering within her.
He couldn't immediately discern whether this light stemmed from the exhilaration and anticipation of the impending final battle, or...
...a deeper, more profound hunger for power, now quietly burning in her heart.
Gloria remained oblivious to the fleeting scrutiny in Roland's eyes.
Taking a shallow breath, she maintained her usual clear and composed tone, though a careful listener might detect a slightly faster rhythm than usual.
"My royal father and I spoke earlier."
Her gaze met Roland's steadily.
"He believes my handling of this crisis... was commendable."
Gloria paused, as if carefully choosing her words.
"He even mentioned that my capabilities would be seriously considered when determining the future succession to the throne."
As she spoke, the princess unconsciously brushed her fingers across the hilt of the sword at her hip, betraying that her composure was not entirely serene.
"Roland, I value your talents. You possess both intellect and courage. Once the dust settles and the kingdom begins to rebuild, we will need pillars of strength. A man like you should not be buried in obscurity."
She leaned forward slightly, the light in her azure eyes intensifying, her burning ambition now coalescing into a direct invitation.
"I want you to stay by my side, to assist me. Your abilities deserve a grander stage."
The flickering lamplight stretched her shadow across the tent.
Before her words had fully faded, Theresa, who had been standing silently beside her like a shadow, showed a subtle reaction.
Her gaze first fell upon Gloria.
That coiled golden hair, a symbol of noble bloodline; her flawless, refined profile; and that innate dignity and charisma, further enhanced by the weight of power, shone with an ever-brighter brilliance.
A fleeting, almost imperceptible shadow of sadness flickered across Theresa's eyes, vanishing as quickly as a crack melting on an icy lake.
She instinctively averted her gaze, turning to Roland and studying his calm, composed profile as he endured Gloria's scrutiny.
Then, her fingers silently brushed against the cold hilt of the slender sword at her waist, her fingertips tracing the familiar patterns etched into the metal.
This subtle, concealed gesture was an unconscious habit, a small tic that surfaced when she was deep in thought or experiencing emotional turmoil.
She remained standing motionless, like a statue blending into the shadows, uttering not a word.
Yet that brief shift of her gaze and the minute movements of her fingertips spoke more clearly than any explicit declaration, revealing the turmoil in her heart and her unspoken reluctance.
Roland remained oblivious to Theresa's subtle unease.
His entire focus was consumed by weighing the implications of Gloria's question.
On the surface, Gloria's offer seemed like an unparalleled opportunity.
With the Imperial Princess, who was likely to ascend the throne, backing him, resources and status seemed within easy reach.
But what Roland saw behind this opportunity was a bottomless whirlpool.
His greatest asset was his Job Panel.
Beyond the already revealed Rogue and the still-mysterious Sorcerer paths, the countless yet-to-be-unlocked classes hinted at his almost limitless potential for growth.
What he needed wasn't fleeting power, but a stable environment where he could steadily accumulate strength and advance at his own pace.
Could the Golden Valley Kingdom truly provide such an environment immediately after King Monen's return?
Even if Monen crushed Arno with thunderbolt-like swiftness, purged Lucius, and reclaimed Golden Grain City, the inevitable consequence would be a bloody purge and power reshuffling sweeping through the entire kingdom.
The old power structures would be forcibly severed, and a new order would be forged amidst the chaos. This process itself was fraught with uncertainty and peril.
As an outsider with no established roots, temporarily valued only for his battlefield achievements and strength, Roland would be nothing more than a fragile skiff in the midst of this political storm.
If he had only gained Gloria's favor, he might have found a moment of peace under her protection.
But the reality was that his victories over Leonard and Arno had thrust him into the eye of the storm.
His name and strength were now known not only to Gloria but had undoubtedly come to the attention of all the kingdom's high-ranking powers.
Could someone with such conspicuous strength and the label of "outsider" truly remain unscathed in the inevitable turmoil, avoiding being pulled, exploited, or even feared by the various factions?
Roland's mind drifted back to the scene before Cracked Rock Pass.
Even when faced with King Monen's absolute power, which seemed like a god or demon descending upon the world, nobles like the Harrington Family had chosen to defy him, acting like a mantis trying to stop a chariot, all because of orders from their superiors.
This proved that while individual martial prowess might win battles, it couldn't easily untangle the deeply entrenched web of vested interests and the treacherous depths of human nature.
King Monen's strength was unparalleled in Roland's experience, yet even he couldn't forge the entire kingdom into a unified whole.
During wartime, strength was the sole measure of worth. But in the postwar era of reconstruction and power redistribution, a "weapon" like him—a commoner lacking noble bloodline or familial backing—might see his value diminish sharply.
In fact, his exceptional sharpness could even attract unnecessary suspicion and constraints.
By then, attempting to withdraw would likely be beyond his control.
Moreover, the truly powerful and rare Hidden Professions, such as Dragonborn and Psions, could only be triggered through perilous adventures in the vast world, under specific circumstances.
These classes granted power far beyond conventional means. Yet if he remained confined to a corner of the kingdom, clinging to the chessboard of power, he might never encounter the life-altering opportunities needed to change his destiny.
Therefore, rather than binding himself to a massive ship about to weather violent storms with an uncertain future, it was better to remain free and observe cautiously.
Having weighed his options, Roland raised his gaze to meet Gloria's azure eyes, which burned with ambition and expectation. His voice, calm yet resolute, cut through the tension:
"Your Highness's gracious offer fills me with gratitude. However... this matter is of grave importance, concerning the very path I will walk. Please forgive me for being unable to give you an immediate answer. I require time to consider this carefully."
His words were tactful, but the refusal was unmistakable.
The atmosphere in the tent shifted subtly in response to his reply.
The faint glow of anticipation that had illuminated Gloria's face flickered imperceptibly, freezing for a moment.
She seemed utterly unprepared for a response that required "consideration."
An invisible string in the air seemed to vibrate faintly, emitting a barely audible hum.
She didn't speak immediately. The burning light in her azure eyes dimmed slightly, as if veiled by a thin gauze.
Her slender fingertips, which had been resting lightly on the table's edge, unconsciously tightened, knuckles whitening briefly before she forced herself to relax.
The brief silence that filled the tent spoke volumes about her inner turmoil.
It was the barely concealed disappointment of a carefully prepared invitation being politely deferred.
Like someone eagerly unfurling a grand blueprint only to find that their most crucial collaborator wasn't as enthusiastic about joining as expected.
Yet this fleeting display of emotion was strictly controlled and kept to a minimum.
In the next moment, she had straightened her back, her face regaining its usual composure and poise.
A faint, understanding curve still lingered at the corners of her lips.
"Of course," she replied, her voice remaining steady, betraying little emotion, though it was slightly lower than before.
"Such a decision requires careful consideration. I understand."
She nodded gently, her gaze shifting away from Roland as if she were merely handling a routine matter.
But that fleeting, almost imperceptible hint of regret was like a pebble dropped into a still lake, sending tiny ripples across the calm depths of her eyes.
The ripples quickly dissipated, leaving her eyes once again deep and serene.
She remained the composed, rational Princess Gloria, though the momentary flicker of anticipation had already been quietly suppressed.
Gloria nodded again, said nothing more, and turned to lift the tent flap and depart.
In the instant her figure vanished, Roland glimpsed the scene outside through the gap.
Soldiers moved about with the relaxed anticipation of impending victory, their faces alight with restless energy.
He silently withdrew his gaze, his heart filled with the hope that this conflict would soon be resolved.
Yet, in stark contrast to the buoyant mood in the allied forces' barracks, Golden Grain City was now shrouded in a suffocating atmosphere of oppression.
(End of the Chapter)
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