Among the countless rumors that he'd heard, one in particular caught his attention.
It began with the general's words, stating that he was going to issue a an important mission, one that required a unique set of skills, and the reward was the rumored precious mana-controlling method of the general himself.
Ashen didn't care about the offered technique, unlike the others who were spreading the rumor.
Instead, he honed in on the mission itself, because he knew from historical facts that while the tailed foxes were busy poaching and secretly coercing their soldiers to change sides, the higher-ups of the army themselves were quietly sending their own men to infiltrate.
And if Ashen's guess was true, then this "important mission" was most likely just the general looking for suitable candidates to send.
Now all he had to do was find a way to snag a spot in the mission and be on his way to the other side.
As he steadily walked to the general's tent, he started feeling nervous, almost like he was going to a job interview he was likely to screw up.
'…No, my plan should work. And if it doesn't…'
He coldly smirked. '…Then I'll just go and get poached by a fox lady. It works all the same anyway.'
"Soldier Ash Harth, reporting! Requesting permission to enter, sir!"
"…Come in."
Finally, he arrived, and with the iron oath salute, he was allowed to report in.
The moment he lifted the tent's flap, he was greeted with the appearance of two of the most unique men he'd known until now.
General Rowan Vance sat behind a makeshift desk with straight posture, locked on a stack of reports.
His appearance was neat, almost austere, but there was a wildness that made his presence fill the room without effort—the kind that didn't need messy hair or torn armor to show itself.
Simply put, he had this atmosphere that could only be gained by leading too many hopeless charges and somehow surviving them all.
To his right, angled lazily on a chair, sat Shun Morikawa, the army's Marshal-Adjunct. Rowan's right hand and, somehow, his complete opposite.
His posture looked careless at first glance, but Ashen could tell it was intentional. From his perspective, it was more of a relaxed readiness—something that only someone who'd been through hell once and came back with a permanent look of "really? this again?" could pull off.
His foreign features made him sharp, and the tired grimace only added to that strange, effortless presence he exuded.
'A general forged from steel and a right-hand man shaped by exhaustion.' That was Ashen's objective assessment from seeing them face to face for the first time.
But he couldn't deny how they still managed to look like they owned the entire warfront.
Rowan didn't bother looking up immediately, flipping a page with slow motions.
This allowed Ashen to take a moment to recall his accomplishments.
The man who led a campaign with fewer than a thousand men. The man who personally held a gate against a Narkal pack ten times the number of his soldiers until reinforcements arrived. A commander whose popularity was built entirely on results, not speeches or propaganda.
Morikawa, on the other hand, had once cleared an entire division of demi-humans without a scratch.
Soldiers whispered that he fought like he was bored, as if the battlefield was just another chore someone had forced on him.
But despite the look that always screamed he'd rather be anywhere but here, he followed Rowan without hesitation.
A persistent loyalty that everyone respected but nobody fully understood. Everyone speculated that there was surely a story behind it, since with Morikawa's achievements, he could have left Rowan's shadow and risen in rank a long time ago.
Ashen stepped inside, closing the flap behind him.
'Great. Just my luck. Facing the two most terrifyingly competent men in the entire army. Perfect first hurdle.'
Only then did Rowan lift his head, eyes meeting his.
"Report," he said, voice calm, steady, and brooking no thought for nonsense.
Morikawa shifted slightly, one eye half-lidded, watching Ashen with that unreadable, world-weary stare.
Ashen swallowed.
Here goes.
Ashen cleared his throat. "Sir. There's… an issue regarding troop integrity. I've come across some troubling patterns among the ranks."
He kept his tone uncertain. "Withdrawals from supply points… men disappearing before assignments… and… even talk about the nine-tailed foxes offering deals."
Rowan's gaze settled on him. A silent demand: continue.
Ashen did. "I don't think they're just deserters. I think some of them were approached and coerced, maybe promised things our side can never match."
He hesitated, letting the heaviness of the words hang between them. "We all know morale's taken a hit after the last siege. People are… desperate."
Actually, much more than that, but Ashen didn't need to say it. He was sure they understood.
Inside, his brain was already racing ahead. 'Since they need someone to infiltrate the demi-human lines, I just have to make them think I'm useful enough for that.'
This was the "method" he'd thought of to go to the other side.
After letting the moment simmer just enough, he stepped forward and, with hands that tried to look uncertain, fumbled open his coat.
From inside, he produced a battered notebook.
'Play dumb, act concerned, and let the facts do the work,' he reminded himself.
"I—uh—kept track of what I found. I don't know if it's all correct, sir, but… I did my best."
He placed it on the desk.
Rowan opened it without comment. Shun leaned forward, laziness evaporating as soon as he caught sight of the writing.
Every page was dense.
Names of at least a dozen missing soldiers. Their units. Last missions. Social circles. Stressors. Small signals of despair. Cross-referenced notes tracking moments where they might have come into contact with demi-human agents… Brothels harboring suspicious demi-human slaves, women with foxlike features, whispers of "easy gold" in tents.
There were even conjectures about seduction spells, mana trails, and bait-locations where deserters might have first been snared.
All of it was hand-written in a meticulous way.
Rowan stopped turning pages.
Shun's brow lifted almost imperceptibly.
Ashen forced a nervous shuffle. "I-I know it's a mess. I just didn't want to jump to conclusions, so I wrote down everything. In case it helps the division prepare. Or… avoid more losses."
The extensive study of this point of history made him know where to look and what to look for.
The rest of it was easy.
He just had to gather evidence for what he already knew and was certain was happening. His observant trait played a huge role in this, aside from the grafted skills of the many infiltrators and scouts working in tandem in his muscles and veins.
To the two men, though, it must not have looked like this.
He watched their reactions like a hawk. 'Come on. See it. See that I can do more than grunt work.'
Rowan shut the notebook gently. Shun's eyes moved from the book to Rowan's face.
They didn't speak.
A single look passed between them before Rowan nodded his head and turned his gaze back to Ashen, now looking far more interested.