The journey back to the town was largely uneventful, Atlas sat on the Baron’s back with his eyes closed and his mouth shut, immersed in internal ponder.

Baron Helm, on the other hand, was pushed both mentally and physically to the very edge. This trek back was the most difficult task that he had ever done in his life. Yet.

Arriving at the edge of the town, the Baron, teetering on the verge of collapsing onto the ground, hoarsely said, “M-my… liege, w-we… have… arrived.” The man’s voice resembled the final grunts of a dying horse.

“Oh. You’re right,” Atlas flatly replied. Tapping on the bald man’s head, he continued. “Well then, why did we stop? Let’s hurry up and return to the manor.”

The young prince gestured by pointing his arm forward. His tone and actions showed no intention of getting down from the Baron’s shoulder and relieving the middle-aged man from the burden. He sat as firmly as one could sit.

“M-my liege… bu-but–” Baron Helm felt like crying. Pain radiated from every inch of his body, his muscles feeling like they were being torn apart. He couldn’t feel his neck, shoulders, and most of his back from quite some time ago, the features having grown completely numb.

“Would you look at the sky? It looks like it's already noon!” Atlas exclaimed. He then kicked with his feet. “Hurry up, Baron Helm! We’ve already lost so much time!”

“Y-yes, my… liege!” The teetering, aching, sweating, pig-faced man painfully replied. His face settled on the expression of resignation.

Biting his teeth with such force that he involuntarily drew blood from his gums, the man performed a short snort before taking a step forward.

He immediately lost balance.

“Whoa! Whoa! WHOA!!” Due to the sudden imbalance, Atlas instantly lost his seating. His failure to hold onto the Baron’s body –it irked the prince on a spiritual level to touch the filthy, sweaty head– caused him to fall from his human throne.

Before he could make sense of the situation, Atlas saw the sky and the ground interchange their respective positions and felt his body hurtling to the ground. The suddenness of the situation made it difficult for him to comprehend it.

‘Ah, sh*t! I’m going to hit my head against the ground!’ Atlas cursed, his thoughts accelerating moments before the impact. At this instant, a thought crossed his mind.

‘Is this karma?’

If it was, it sucked.

Just as he was inches away from heading the ground, Atlas felt a secondary force crash against him from the side. His descent was immediately thwarted, and a strong crushing force enveloped his entire body.

“MY LIEGE!!”

Baron Helm caught him in the nick of the time.

---

“You don’t have to be so depressed, Baron Helm. I told you, it’s my fault,” Atlas patted against the Baron’s side while gently consoling the large man.

The two of them sat behind one of the trees lining against the edge of the town. They hadn’t entered the town yet, for… well, they couldn’t enter it yet.

The large-bodied, obesely-built, pig-headed Baron held his face with his large hands and cried.

That’s right. He cried.

It was quite the spectacle, watching a fully-grown man cry uncontrollably while blaming himself for failing his duty. Atlas wore a half-amused, half-annoyed expression.

It wasn’t his first time watching the man cry. But that didn’t mean that he felt comfortable, or equipped, to deal with his situation.

‘We can’t go into town with this guy looking like this. Any measure of trust and respect that the townspeople have in their leadership will completely disappear!’

And so, they would wait.

‘Well, this at least confirms one thing.’ Atlas thought to himself while absentmindedly patting the Baron. ‘The Baron is definitely not the traitor.’

Baron Georg Helm was definitely not the traitor that betrayed and backstabbed the Royal Family. Atlas was finally sure of it.

How?

‘I took a risk today. Exposing myself to certain unknown, unavoidable levels of danger to confirm something.’

It had already been established beyond doubt that someone had betrayed the Royal Family of the Constantine Kingdom; the entire family being captured by monsters was no coincidence. Someone, probably from the invading enemy camp, wanted them dead.

The trap had been perfect. The Royal Family was captured with its escorts killed. The King and the Queen had perished. The final member and remaining heir would’ve also died, if not for the transmigration. By pure chance, Atlas had managed to survive that near-death ordeal.

As such, the enemy’s motive –the annihilation of the Royal Family– still remained incomplete. And if the enemy force leader possessed even marginal intelligence, he would know better than to leave this matter unattended.

What this meant for Atlas was that the threat for his life remained.

Now, ideally, the matter of his unexpected survival would remain hidden and wouldn’t reach the enemy’s ears. It could be that no traitor existed amongst the townspeople, and that Atlas was just being overly paranoid.

However, the youth, possessing sixty years of life experience, knew better than to gamble with his life. Atlas would never leave matters to chance and sit still hoping for the best.

In his mind, a traitor definitely existed amongst the townspeople. Someone was hidden within the shadows, awaiting the perfect moment to reap his life.

Question was, who could this be?

With some logical reasoning, a few concrete facts could be garnered from this complex situation.

Whoever this traitor was, they were skilled enough to flawlessly murder the Royal Family while leaving behind little to no evidence. If it were not for Atlas’ unexpected survival, the matter of their demise wouldn’t have been exposed until a much, much later date. The traitor somehow possessed access to sensitive and highly accurate information. To have orchestrated that monster attack, they must’ve known the exact route, timing, composition, and strength of the Royal Family’s escort. The traitor was intelligent enough to not expose themselves lightly. This meant one of two things; either their mission wasn’t limited to the annihilation of the Royal Family and that they had more targets, or that there was a greater, long-term scheme that required them to hide and stay put for now. The traitor was quite cautious and not suicidal. This could be garnered from how no one attacked him outright. Atlas had made sure to deliberately expose himself several times.

With the broad classification established, it was a matter of looking for the individual(s) themselves. But before he did that, Atlas had to establish a trustworthy group that he could rely on first.

What was the point in discovering the traitor if he couldn’t aptly deal with them? Searching for the traitors before gathering power of his own would be like putting the cart before the horse.

And so, Atlas began with looking for a trustworthy person whom he could rely upon. And owing to situational constraints, he had no choice but to begin with Baron Georg Helm. For if Baron Helm was the traitor –although his initial impression suggested otherwise– Atlas’ life was as good as forfeit.

The testing began from the moment Atlas finished dealing with the townspeople.

He intentionally pushed the Baron, a member of the nobility, into performing menial chores and treating him in a degrading manner: bringing him washbowls to wash his face, towels to dry it but then complaining at the lacking quality, acting whiny and annoyed towards the Baron, etc.

Atlas undertook immense risk when he traveled alone with the Baron through the Brooding Dark Forest. During the trek, he presented the man with every opportunity to attack. Atlas’ constant complaining, spoiled attitude, forcing the Baron to act as a means of transport… The young prince did his very best to cultivate negativity and irk within the Baron’s heart, forcing him to act. This continued until their return to the town.

Yet the Baron never did anything to harm the prince in the least. Even in the end, when Atlas accidently fell from the Baron’s back, the large man immediately threw himself to catch the prince, injuring himself in the process, but ensuring that not the slightest scratch befell the prince.

The Baron acted true to the promise he had made earlier. He remained as steadfast and loyal as ever, not having the slightest of dissatisfaction towards the prince no matter what he did or how low he treated him.

‘I can see why the late king trusted the man with his life.’ Atlas smiled to himself. Even the most cynical part of him couldn’t speak anything against the Baron’s behavior.

‘This man,’ Atlas looked up at the Baron, who had finished crying and was now busy wiping his face, ‘can be relied upon.’

“Are you done, Baron Helm?” Atlas asked to which the large man nodded his head. His face flushed red as he realized how unsightly a behavior he had exposed before his liege.

“My liege! I beg you to wipe away this memory from your mind. Please forgive my unsightly behavior!” Baron Helm bowed in shame.

“I’m afraid I can't do that, Baron Helm. I, never forget anything,” Atlas shook his head with pity. Horrified, the Baron immediately moved to apologize even more profusely. He was, however, immediately stopped by the prince.

“However!” Atlas exclaimed. “I will promise to never mention this embarrassing display ever again. I do owe you a favor for keeping a secret of mine after all.”

Baron Helm wore a confused expression at the prince’s bargain. Moments later, a look of realization flashed across his face as he spoke.

“Oh, my liege! Do you perhaps mean what happened when we found you in the river with a fish crawling up your–”

Atlas immediately moved to strangle the Baron to death.