Fremd Torturchen - Volume 9 - Chapter 3

3

Marching to Their Deaths

Aguina Elephabred held heroes in disdain.

He had loved to read when he was a boy, and that was how he had learned of the concept.

In the tales he read, they always showed up at just the right moment. The vast majority of people who read the same books he did would have regarded them with admiration. But young Aguina knew. Heroes didn’t exist. Nobody was going to swoop in at the last second to save them.

The more he researched, the more he realized just how bleak the future of his people truly was.

The demi-humans had spent their long history excluding the mixed-race folk and building a rigid caste system. At the beginning, there hadn’t been any larger purpose to it. It was simply the result of the purebloods’ obsession with aristocracy. Now, though, deviating from that system would spell disaster for them, and even so much as loosening it would lead to immediate repercussions. The pureblood caste would collapse, and the line that marked what it meant to be demi-human would grow blurrier and blurrier. Why, their country’s very leadership might get supplanted by those whose blood had been sullied by that of other races. After all, their birth rate was declining. They might have been able to weather the losses they suffered from the demons, but the fact that humanity was multiplying like rabbits weighed heavy on them.

They could hold fast to their pride, or they could perish.

Those were the only choices the demi-humans had.

This realization was what drove Aguina to his blood purity fanaticism.

That was why he hated the concept of heroes.

Whenever he heard a fairy tale, it filled his heart with scorn. He regarded them as ludicrous from the bottom of his heart.

Such a person couldn’t possibly exist.

If there existed someone who had amended the injustices of the world, they would have seen his people’s plight and helped them bridge that population gap.

Ironically, the very fact that Aguina existed as a blood purist served to discredit the possibility that heroes existed. In a sense, he played the role of a villain, as his very life was the personification of how nonexistent and meaningless heroes were in the world. There were no noble crusaders or legendary champions.

Or at least, there weren’t supposed to be.

But when the end of days came, Aguina saw a hero with his own two eyes.

Sure enough, that boy pining for the peerless sinner that was the Torture Princess brought about a miracle.

And Aguina witnessed a noble death, too. It was a ludicrous way to go, but the man’s pure wish for a star of his own and the way his faith in God remained unshaken to the end were beautiful in their own right.

Aguina Elephabred held heroes in disdain.

Fools, though? Fools, he had a soft spot for.

“And that, if nothing else, was why I wished I could be one.”

“That was all there was to it, I must confess.”

The Sand Queen’s mind had been overwritten so that she would behave a certain way.

Now there was a pitiful man inside her.

Aguina had tried to protect the purebloods in the hidden settlement. Now, though, his soul had been twisted and placed inside the Sand Queen. For starters, his ego had probably been shattered, but even if it hadn’t, contents placed in ill-fitting vessels had a habit of breaking. And if that vessel was the body of someone who exceeded mortal comprehension, then all the more so.

By now, Aguina Elephabred was broken beyond repair.

It was perhaps only a matter of time before the surviving demi-humans and Torture Princess alike were all burned to a crisp.

Upon realizing that, Elisabeth dashed through the settlement. She raced between burning chunks of debris like a gust of wind and barreled out of the skull gate.

Then she began setting up to launch a fierce point-blank attack on the Sand Queen. All she needed to do was draw his attention her way. However, she didn’t get a chance to activate so much as a single torture device.

For the Sand Queen did something wholly unexpected.

“Gu…………Gu r u…………Gi………Ru r u………Rurururu……Ru………gi…………”

After a bewildering cry, she hung her head low.

Then she ran her long tongue across the lake of spilled blood. Dark mana welled up within, and the surface of the lake burst into flames.

The Sand Queen slowly began submerging herself in the black fire.

Her mind’s—Aguina’s—destructive impulses clearly weren’t being directed at the hidden demi-human village.

“Ah, I see… Broken as you are, you would still choose as such,” Elisabeth murmured quietly. She analyzed the spell that had been cast on the black lake.

Although the Sand Queen’s method deviated from the norm, she was trying to teleport. And with Aguina being the blood purist he was, it wasn’t difficult to guess what destination his unconscious mind would choose.

He would head to the lands of the purebloods’ biggest threat—the humans.

Elisabeth reached her verdict instantly. The Sand Queen’s already begun her teleportation, and stopping her halfway is beyond us. She hurried over to the lake.

As she ran, she conjured up a whirl of black darkness and crimson flower petals and, without slowing down, drew Executioner’s Sword of Frankenthal from within. She gave it a firm swing downward.

The swing sliced her own left arm clean off.

Her blood poured out and splattered atop the parched sand.

Elisabeth didn’t close the wound. Not right away, at least. Instead, she splashed its gushing crimson flow into the black lake.

It was like watching a dance. Or like someone mixing poison into water.

“—La (become).”

The spell she wove was one the Torture Princess rarely used. She was tampering with the Sand Queen’s teleportation magic.

The Sand Queen had less blood at her disposal than the beastfolk did when they sent the Three Kings out of their nation, and furthermore, she had no incantations to support her. Thanks to those vulnerabilities, Elisabeth was able to successfully influence her spell.

In doing so, the Torture Princess skillfully shifted the destination site.

The Sand Queen dived into the blackness none the wiser, and her massive frame vanished completely.

The moment it did, the ground around the lake’s perimeter began violently moving. Sand spilled into the newly formed hole like it was being swallowed up by an ant lion pit. As the quicksand swirled in every direction, it made its way down into black depths and began filling in the lake.

With one of her arms missing, Elisabeth quickly lost her balance. Fortunately, Lute was able to catch her just in the nick of time.

“Ho-whoop!”

With a strange cry, he yanked her back to safety. However, the excess momentum caused him to collapse on his backside. He got sucked up in the sand’s flow like so many ants. On seeing that, Elisabeth calmly conjured up a rope. She started by tying off her left arm to stop the bleeding, then threw the other end at Lute and caught him by the tail. She reeled him in like the catch of the day.

“I appreciate the save!” she shouted. “Now, get on back here yourself, Lute!”

“Oh, what a shameful way for me to get caught! Thank you for the assistance. I must say, though… Owwwww.”

Having his beloved tail squeezed like that brought tears to Lute’s eyes. Yet somehow, he managed to drag himself back up.

That was when a vermilion, lizard-headed demi-human chose to pop up. “I would ask if you two are all right…but I can see the answer for myself!”

It was Randgrof. Elisabeth was surprised. Apparently, he had chosen not to hide with the other purebloods. His good nature was clear to see, as was his sense of duty. He helped Lute to his feet. Then he plucked up Elisabeth’s arm before the sand had a chance to swallow it up and offered it back to her. He seemed a little daunted, but he spoke up all the same. “I imagine a mage like you can reattach it, no? Come on, we need to get out of here!”

“Nimbly done. You have my thanks. Let us be off, then!”

Elisabeth loosened her rope, then forcibly pressed her arm against her stump and squeezed down on the seam as she fell back alongside Randgrof and Lute. Once they’d reached a safe distance, she turned to look back.

Her eyes went wide.

Both the black lake and the fire were gone without a trace.

In their place, a hexagonal tower of sand rose high into the sky. It was the exact same shape as the demi-human sanctuaries, and it was cracked on the edges like over-pounded sugar candy. Then, all at once, the tower crumbled. A dry yellow wind blew past.

When it faded, there was nothing there.

Abruptly, Randgrof fell to his knees. He must have heard Lute’s shout earlier, as he let out a vacant murmur. “Father… Her Majesty the Sand Queen… What the hell is even happening? I don’t…”

Elisabeth and Lute had no reply to that. They just stared at the space before them.

The Sand Queen had vanished off to the human lands.

And with her, she had brought death and destruction anew.

A calamity cometh.

A calamity cometh.

To all the people of the land.

It was like an apostle’s proclamation—the calamity that was the Sand Queen was on the move. By all rights, she should have already been burning the human territories to the ground. However, Elisabeth had interfered with her destination site and changed it to a mountain range far to the east. There were no houses there, nor did anyone harvest any natural resources from the area. It was about as far from human habitation as you could get.

That bought humanity a little time to try to come up with countermeasures. However, preventing the Sand Queen’s invasion altogether had been beyond Elisabeth, and the prospects of them being able to stop her en route were slim. After all, her wounds had already been patched up.

Furthermore, she still had enough mana in her to wreak all manners of destruction.

The broken toy had been repaired, and her key had been wound back up.

What was mankind to do, now that they were faced with this new peril? Elisabeth turned her thoughts as fast as they could go.

I doubt we’ve any option but to destroy her reactor again… She has her scales, but we hold a better picture of her weaknesses than we did before. It shan’t be easy, certainly, but we’ve no choice but to try. Damn it all. If this were the final battle we had to face, that would be one thing…

Elisabeth ground her teeth. If they threw the saints and everything else they had at her, they actually stood a pretty good chance. The problem was, the Fremd Torturchen was waiting right in the wings. It was all too easy to imagine what would happen if Alice came back right in the middle of their battle with the Sand Queen. Mankind simply lacked the power to take both of them on at once.

If that happened, there would be no way for them to escape annihilation.

They needed to kill the Sand Queen, and they needed to kill her now.

Elisabeth thought back to Kaito Sena’s True Message.

“Fool. You would ask me to believe in you, even in a situation such as this?” she muttered.

She was still drenched in her own blood.

She stared off into empty space like an infant. However, she soon shook her head.

This was no time to waste dwelling on idle thoughts. She needed to get back to the Capital as fast as she could so she could tell them about the situation. Conveniently enough, her surroundings were already splattered with her blood. She began drawing a teleportation circle.

Then Lute interrupted her. His voice was oddly grave. “Ah, I see. Fate can be a funny thing, can’t it? Maybe this was what my people’s turmoil was leading to. It made us think long and hard about the weight of our own lives, and maybe that will be what lets us make a choice we won’t regret.”

“What are you on about, Lute? Don’t tell me you’re going to get all gloomy and muddled on me.”

It wasn’t like him to be so roundabout with his words. Elisabeth couldn’t help but be a bit worried about him.

Lute looked up. The look in his eyes was firm and unclouded. He straightened his posture and spoke with deep solemnity. “I can’t make any promises, Captain Elisabeth, but the world is in peril again, and the end is nigh. My people and the demi-humans were once sworn friends, and I believe we have it in us to make the right decision.”

Elisabeth was about to reiterate her question, but she stopped. There was a strange sort of drive burning in Lute’s eyes. He closed his mouth and said no more. It was obvious that she wasn’t going to get any clearer of an answer out of him than that.

Randgrof, who’d been listening to their exchange from the side, wore a similar expression to Lute’s. Still silent, he clenched his fists tight. He didn’t seem any more likely than Lute to give voice to his thoughts.

Realizing there was nothing to be done about it, Elisabeth turned back. Petals scattered as she completed her teleportation circle. The florid crimson splashes hardened into walls, obscuring Lute and Randgrof from view.

The two of them saw her off through to the very end.

And all the while, they were brimming with a tragic sort of bravery.

“…and now the Sand Queen is on the move. We need to deploy combat assets so as to intercept her.”

As soon as Elisabeth returned, the first thing she did was explain what had happened.

She was in the underground tomb, standing before the round table in the royal council room.

The moment she entered that cramped chamber, she immediately laid out the situation.

When she ended on the news of their new foe’s march, the conversation came to a standstill.

Maclaeus, his attendants, a smattering of aristocrats and high priest representatives, and Izabella all stared at her in disbelief. When Elisabeth arrived, they had still been discussing Alice and the Saint’s death.

However, it was hard to fault them too much for that. The Church and its religion had been the cornerstone of human society for many years, yet now their central pillar, the Saint, had chosen to sacrifice herself and perish. If anything, it would’ve been stranger if their discussion hadn’t been in disarray.

Now Elisabeth had dropped yet another bombshell in their laps.

With how somber the room was, it was like the world was ending or something.

Suddenly, one of the high priests—an elderly man who’d stayed neutral during the schism between the reconstruction sect and the moderates—rose to his feet. He thrust one of his withered fingers at Elisabeth.

“What?” she responded. “If you’ve something you wish to say, do at least try to be quick about it.”

“Why couldn’t you have been the one to die?” he spat, the crinkles in his face quivering. Ah. Elisabeth nodded.

The question was one born of abject hysteria, but it wasn’t completely without merit. Even Elisabeth found it somewhat odd that she was the one who’d been left behind. That said, it was the Saint herself who had determined that the Torture Princess was a piece better suited for a protracted battle. That was all there was to it. However, the high priest was clearly unconvinced.

His scarlet vestments swished as he prattled on.

“Why is Her Holiness the Saint gone, yet the Torture Princess draws breath? And not only did the peerless sinner have the audacity to survive, she even comes and brings us more calamity? It’s not too late, you know. You can still go to Her Holiness and die instead of—”

“You must really be distraught, to want us to sacrifice our own forces. I hope you’ll forgive me this impropriety.”

The words rang with great courtesy as the fist sank squarely into the priest’s cheek. His wrinkled face crumpled inward.

The discrepancy between the voice’s tone and the sheer violence of the act was a sight to behold.

On both counts, the culprit was Izabella. She lowered her fist, her silver hair swaying. However, it was clear that she had held back as much as possible.

The priest stumbled a little, but was otherwise none the worse for wear. Another high priest grabbed his shoulder to help support him. The second man had been one of the moderates, as well as Godd Deos’s direct pupil. After his mentor’s death, he assumed Godd Deos’s position.

His long hair rustled as he shook his head. When he spoke, his voice was calm. “Compose yourself. In this case, Madam Vicker is right. Now, Elisabeth Le Fanu, you just comported yourself as an apostle heralding a calamity and told us that the Sand Queen is on the move, do I have that right? In other words, she’s sided with the Fremd Torturchen and is assisting with her rampage?”

“Not in the strictest sense, no. But explaining the particulars would take time we don’t have. I’ll be sure to write you a full report later. The long and short of it is that she’s coming for the human lands, and she won’t stop till she’s laid waste to us all.”

This time, it was Maclaeus who spoke up. “Any coordinated bombardment we try with the paladins and priests would cost us too much, and it wouldn’t give us the firepower we need anyway. It looks like we don’t have a choice but to deploy the saints, even if it means leaving the Capital undefended for a time. Do you know where exactly it is she appeared?”

As always, he carried himself with composure. But in truth, he was doing everything he could to keep his terror in check. His eyes still retained a great deal of their youthfulness, and he couldn’t conceal the fear lurking in their depths. However, they didn’t have the leisure to worry about such things at the moment. Elisabeth chose to ignore the king’s emotions.

Instead, she just answered his question.

“That I do. I shifted her drop site as far as I could. The problem is…”

“We still have to deal with the Fremd Torturchen, right,” Izabella murmured to continue her thought. “That means we’ll want to keep our casualties as low as we can get them… Still, even if this will mark her third death, it’s still the Sand Queen we’re dealing with. We’re up against long odds.”

Elisabeth nodded. Their only choice was to pull out all the stops to deal with the threat before them. There was no point worrying about the future if they were going to be dead before it even arrived. If mankind was to survive, this counterattack needed to succeed.

The discussion moved on to details of how they were going to deploy the saints.

The air was thick with tension. Despite the voices clearly audible, the room felt as still as a seabed.

That was, until the door swung loudly open.

“King Maclaeus, big news!”

An outsider barged into the room. It was one of the officials who’d been monitoring the communication devices. Everyone turned anxiously to look at him, wondering what it could be now. Under the weight of their tense stares, the official shouted excitedly. “The message is from Sir Randgrof Elephabred of the demi-humans and Sir Vyadryavka Ula Forstlast of the beastfolk! They’ve received permission from their respective leaders and are working together to assemble a joint army!”

“The beastfolk and demi-humans, together?”

“And what’s more, the injured Three Kings of the Forest are joining the march. They’re coming to stand against the Sand Queen!”

That certainly sent the room astir.

As it did, Elisabeth finally realized what Lute had meant.

So the beastfolk understand.

The Sand Queen was being controlled by Aguina, and between his broken mind and his obsession with blood purity, there was little doubt that he would turn his attention to the beastfolk after he was done with the humans. Plus, even if the humans prevailed, Alice’s slaughter was right around the corner. And those who numbered strongest among the beastfolk, the Three Kings of the Forest, were ill-suited for battle against pesky little rats.

In other words, the beastfolk were doomed if they lost the shield that mankind represented.

Considering all those conditions, the choice they were making was more or less the best one they had.

And that choice was to help humanity preserve its strength.

No one wants to die, after all.

However, there were also those whose positions were such that they had to protect others, even if it meant throwing themselves to the wolves.

It was a sad, lonely lot, having to shoulder the weight of the world. Yet the Three Kings of the Forest had chosen to act for their people’s sake all the same.

The room was full of clamor and commotion, but Elisabeth alone remained silent.

The official clutched his abdomen as he quickly relayed the rest of his information.

“The message went on! ‘We and the demi-humans are old friends, and as their friend, the duty to cut off their head falls to us. We wish to leave the battle with the Fremd Torturchen to our new friends the humans.’ And there was one more thing…”

“The Three Kings of the Forest

are marching to their deaths.”

And march they would, for the sake of the countless lives that hung in the balance.

Shedding rivers of their noble, precious blood as they went.

The Three Kings’ declaration echoed through the room, then vanished into silence.

Come, let us sing a victory hymn.

What lies beyond death? What lies after death? What awaits us following death?

It isn’t oblivion. It isn’t tragedy. It isn’t despair. It isn’t the end.

It’s life. Our deaths will pave the way for new life.

The moment we drew our swords, victory was already at our hands.

So let us sing. Let us sing our victory hymn.

Sing of a battle that will live on beyond us.

Sing loud the victory hymn of our kings.

And sing loud they did, scores of soldiers all in unison.

It was clear to Elisabeth that it wasn’t merely a victory hymn. It was just as much a funeral march.

The soldiers all knew the implications of the choice the Three Kings of the Forest were making, and still they chose to honor their kings’ resolve and fight for the sake of their people. However, that didn’t stop them from grieving for their kings’ willingness to die.

Their procession had a dignified gravity to it, and the grim sound of their march echoed through the forest. They were walking to their own graves, and they all knew it. Yet even so, not a single one of them even thought of stopping.

Leading up the solemn march were Randgrof and Vyadryavka. Both of them had been impressively fast to make their choices and act. They had made their case themselves, they had won over the rest of the beastfolk imperial family, and now they were standing at death’s gate.

And there was another familiar face among the soldiers’ ranks as well—Lute’s.

“So this is what you were getting at earlier,” Elisabeth said to him. “’Twas a welcome choice from our perspective, but I’ll admit to some shock at your Three Kings having chosen to battle to their deaths amid your country’s national crisis, much less that such a thing was allowed.”

“C-Captain Elisabeth! What are you doing here, ma’am?”

“Really?” Elisabeth shot back in exasperation. “What could possibly compel you to believe I would sit this battle out after hearing its particulars? The very thought of doing so would be ludicrous. Am I wrong?”

Lute’s tail was all puffed up. By the look of it, he really was surprised to see her. The man had many talents, but reading the room wasn’t one of them, nor was being quick on the uptake.

Even deep in the undeveloped mountains, the path between the trees was flat and easy on the feet, and the view was clear and unobscured. A damp forest wind lapped at Elisabeth’s cheeks. The air was humid and ripe with the smell of rusty iron.

That was all due to the Three Kings of the Forest mowing down the trees and leveling the ground in their path.

Everything in their wake was dyed red with their blood.

Lute veered away from the beastfolk procession for a minute. He and Elisabeth took shelter behind some trees.

There, he gave her his thoughts on the current state of affairs.

“In a sense, it’s that same national crisis that made this possible. Before, the imperial family was divided. But they all shared the same fear of annihilation. That was what made them tearily accept the Three Kings of the Forest’s decision. It simply goes to show what sort of influence the Three Kings of the Forest wield.”

“Kings going to battle gravely wounded to fight for their people and the lives yet to come… Why, ’tis almost like something out of a storybook. I can easily imagine what a beautifully tragic scene it would have made for. Little wonder, then, they were able to move so many hearts.”

Elisabeth frowned. You wouldn’t have known it by her words, but she despised heroic epics.

More often than not, stories that ended with everyone living happily ever after were just there to mask the tragedies that lay beneath, with their heroes stripped of every last vestige of their personalities. At the same time, though, there was something she had to begrudgingly admit.

Beautiful stories had the power to spur people into action.

This story was one well worthy of being told for ages to come.

What she and the others were about to witness was the birth of a legend.

She shook her head to dispel her saccharine reverie. Once she’d cleared her mind, she spoke calmly. “Mankind has sent me, Torture Princess Elisabeth Le Fanu, as well as three-fifths of the saints to join in this battle, with Jeanne de Rais, Izabella Vicker, and one of the other fifths waiting on standby. That said, we’ve already lost La Mules and La Christoph, the two who’d be best suited for this sort of counterattack. I intend to stand on the front lines, but the plan is to have the others acting solely as support for the Three Kings. We sent a signaller ahead, so Vyadryavka should already be aware of our intentions.”

“Roger that, ma’am. I’m sure that’s about what the Three Kings of the Forest, Sir Randgrof, and Lord Vyadryavka Ula Forstlast expected. At the end of the day, it’s us beastfolk and a handful of the demi-humans who have chosen this place to die. The victory hymn is ours, as is the funeral march. If Lady Vyade Ula Forstlast were here, I imagine she would say the same thing.”

“I see. Very well, then. Oh, and Lute…one other thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t you dare die today.”

When he heard her curt warning, Lute conspicuously avoided meeting her gaze. Elisabeth gave him a kick in the rear, and a rough one at that. It nearly sent him crashing into a tree. Then, speaking as his captain, she tore him a new one. “You absolute dunce, you have a child on the way! My plan is to act independently of the army, but I have every intention of doing it with my men by my side, and I’m of no mind to let you lot die. So don’t. Consider that an order.”

It wasn’t something one would typically expect to hear from the Torture Princess. However, Elisabeth said it knowing full well how ridiculous she sounded. Even in a crisis such as theirs, there were some people whose role it was to survive.

This was a battle to secure the future.

Everyone there knew and boasted of it, and the man before her was one they couldn’t afford to let die.

Lute averted his eyes again. However, mentioning his child had produced a marked change in his expression. He gave her a deep nod. “Of course. I have no intention of dying for nothing. That I swear, for Ain’s sake as well.”

There was something ominous about his words,

but there could be no doubting the unshakable resolve resting within them.

Elisabeth had a mind to continue her warning. Before she could get the words out, though, a violent tremor shook the air.

The bugle had been blown.

Loud, loud, loud it blew.

It was like a messenger had come to deliver a message:

A calamity cometh.

The broken Queen has arrived, in all her glory.