Hyakuren no Haou to Seiyaku no Valkyria - Volume 17 - Chapter 2

ACT 2

The Holy Capital of Glaðsheimr was the capital of the Holy Ásgarðr Empire and the largest city in Yggdrasil, boasting a population of over one hundred thousand people. While the authority of the Empire itself had waned over the preceding two centuries, the city had remained the center of Yggdrasil’s culture. However, it was also a city with a shadowy underbelly, where those who sought to lay claim to the authority of the þjóðann for their own ends engaged in a constant web of schemes and conspiracies. Further, it had also been the object of desire for the Arms and Armor Clans, with the blood of countless soldiers spilled in efforts to control the city. Currently, the man with the responsibility to protect this city—the crown jewel of the empire—was Jörgen, the Steel Clan’s Assistant Second and the current Wolf Clan patriarch.

“The Flame Clan is back at its old tricks, it seems,” Jörgen, sitting at the head of the round table, spat out bitterly as he scratched at his bald head. He was already well past the age of forty, but he was still quite the physical specimen, with a large, muscular physique. Jörgen also bore scars on his brow and cheek, and he appeared every bit the part of the burly, uncouth warrior. In stark contrast to his appearance, however, he was known as a caring, thoughtful leader and was well-liked by his subordinates, which was why Yuuto had tapped him to serve as governor of the city in his absence.

“A Flame Clan force numbering around ten thousand has started to advance eastward from Bilskírnir in the west. Their target is probably Gimlé itself. Additionally, reports are coming from the old Spear Clan capital of Mímir that suggest that there is a constant stream of supplies flowing into the city.”

The picture that the available information painted was clear. The Flame Clan had somehow managed to solve their food shortage, which meant it was only a matter of time before the Flame Clan Army once again advanced upon the Holy Capital.

“How did they manage it...? I can’t even begin to think of what they must have done to pull that off.”

“His Majesty’s foresight in anticipating this development is also impressive,” Fagrahvél, the Patriarch of the Sword Clan and the general tasked to assist Jörgen in the defense of Glaðsheimr, said in response. She possessed the rune Gjallarhorn, the Call to War—the Rune of Kings—and along with her reputation as a skilled general, she was one of Jörgen’s most trusted lieutenants at this juncture.

“Of coooourse, he alsoooo said that he would haaaave preferrred to be wrooong,” Bára, the Sword Clan’s Assistant Second and strategist, said in her languid lilt. She was another of the generals Yuuto had tasked with the defense of Glaðsheimr, and though it was hard to imagine given her demeanor, she was one of the three greatest military minds in all of Yggdrasil.

“Well, in my experience, it’s usually when you’ve got a bad feeling something might happen that it actually does. Nothing to do about it now that it’s happened. Complaining won’t change the reality. May as well come up with measures to deal with it.”

“That would be the best course of action.”

“Agreeeed.”

Fagrahvél and Bára nodded their agreement with Jörgen’s observation.

Most people tended to try to look away from unpleasant truths through some desperate desire to keep bad news hidden. That behavior wasn’t simply limited to the simpleminded or the incompetent—even those with exceptional abilities could easily fall into the same trap.

However, these three had long since moved past that impulse. They had quickly accepted the reality of their situation and moved on to looking for a solution. No doubt that was partly helped by their experience interacting with someone like Yuuto, who left the shattered remnants of conventional wisdom in his wake. The truth of the matter was that they were used to the unexpected by now.

“Shall we be executing that contingency plan?” Fagrahvél asked tersely. Her expression was tense, her brows knitted in concern.

“Yes, that’s the idea. This danger is, viewed another way, an excellent opportunity.”

“It’s as you say... However...” From the tone she spoke in, Fagrahvél apparently remained unconvinced. Jörgen looked at her sympathetically and sighed.

“I understand your reservations, but this is all following Father’s orders.”

“...Yes sir.”

Jörgen’s blunt declaration appeared to have settled the matter for Fagrahvél. Instead of the concern that was just previously upon it, her face took on an expression tinged with sadness.

“This is certainly quite the troublesome situation to find ourselves in. Those two men from the land beyond the heavens seem to take a perverse pleasure in overturning all our expectations.”

“Quite! But it’s nothing new.” Jörgen nodded sympathetically, then laughed it off.

He had supported Yuuto ever since the young boy had been the Wolf Clan patriarch. It was no stretch of the imagination to believe that he had regularly been forced to go along with Yuuto’s often outlandish thought processes. He was probably the one most used to the ridiculous developments he brought about within the Steel Clan. He was, in that sense, the most dependable man to have in charge in a situation where so much seemed to be unreadable.

“A-A-Achoo!”

“Oh dear, Big Brother. Have you caught a cold? I’m told summer colds can linger. Allow me to prepare—”

“Oh, it’s fine. Just something in my nose, I think.” Yuuto waved off Felicia’s note of concern. He didn’t feel any particular congestion or any other symptoms that would indicate that he had come down with a cold. It was probably just dust or something similar.

“Never mind that. If anything, it’s pretty damn hot.” Yuuto furrowed his brow as he fanned himself with his hand. It was now the middle of summer in Yggdrasil, and the sticky humidity in the heated air was extremely uncomfortable.

“Yes, it’s certainly gotten hot.”

“It’s almost lunch. Why don’t we take a break?”

“Yes, I believe that would be best.” Felicia nodded and sent word to the soldiers outside of the covered wagon.

Currently, the Steel Clan Army led by Yuuto was advancing from the Tiger Clan capital of Gastropnir to the Silk Clan capital of Útgarðar. However, Yuuto still had a nagging feeling that the Flame Clan might be up to something. He wanted to hurry his advance along, but if he forced his soldiers to march and had them collapse through exhaustion as a result of the current heat, he would just be shooting himself in the foot. Haste makes waste indeed.

“Pardon me for interrupting your rest, Father.” As Yuuto got off his wagon and stretched to get the cramps out of his sore body, Sigrún called to him from behind.

Sigrún’s Múspell Unit was one of the rare units in Yggdrasil that was made up entirely of mounted cavalry. They were assigned to serve as scouts when the army was on the march to take full advantage of their impressive mobility. He turned to face her, thinking she was presenting a scouting report, but his eyes widened in surprise at what he saw instead.

“Wha?! What happened, Rún?!”

“Hm? Oh, this?” Sigrún tilted her head quizzically for a moment in confusion before she placed her hand against the bandage on her forehead. There wasn’t a hint of tension in her demeanor. If anything, she seemed a little ashamed at the bandage.

“I didn’t quite block properly when sparring with Hilda. As Múspell commander, I’m embarrassed to say that it’s just a training wound.”

“A-And how badly are you hurt?!”

“It’s nothing worthy of note.”

“I see. Phew. Damn, you had me scared there for a moment. You being hurt is one thing, but I thought that we’d been attacked or something.” Yuuto let out a sigh of relief. Given that he had been nervous that they’d encountered an enemy, and an enemy that was skilled enough to wound Sigrún—the Steel Clan’s greatest warrior—no less, his relief was palpable.

“Ah, rest assured, Father, there’s no sign of any enemies around here.”

“I see. Well, that’s good, but try not to worry me too much. I mean, I know training is important, but...” Yuuto said with a dry laugh.

Sigrún wasn’t just one of his direct Chalice children. Yuuto had known her ever since he first arrived in Yggdrasil, and while she was initially skeptical of him, from the time since he had become patriarch, she had been one of his most loyal retainers and a woman that loved him. Even though he understood that fighting was her chosen way of life, he never enjoyed sending her off to fight for him, which was why it had come as such a shock to him to see her injury. He had already lost numerous people close to him. He knew it was all a part of war, but he wanted to avoid losing anyone else close to him if at all possible.

“My apologies. But it really is a trifling wound, so please rest assured.”

“Fine, that’s all well and good the—Mm? Wait, Rún. Didn’t you injure your right hand?!” Yuuto shouted as though the thought had just occurred to him. It had completely slipped his mind upon seeing the wound on Sigrún’s forehead, but Sigrún’s right hand was in no shape to be holding weapons. Physical training was one thing, but sparring should have been totally off-limits.

“Yes. Which is why I was using my left hand. Unfortunately, it’s a lot more difficult than I’d like.”

“Well, yeah. It’s not your dominant hand.”

Sigrún glared at her left hand, prompting a dry laugh from Yuuto. At the same time, though, he understood. The reason she had made such a name for herself as a warrior in Yggdrasil despite her youth had nothing to do with the gifts of her rune. No matter how great the gem, if left unpolished it was just a rock. She was as strong as she was because she had constantly put in the effort to get stronger every day.

“I know you’re hard on yourself and stoic in the face of pain—almost to a fault, in fact—but there are times when you should rest, and this is one of them.”

“I see. Then once the Ark Project is completed, I would like to spend some time relaxing.”

“Huh? No, no, I don’t mean that far off in the future. I’m just saying that you should at least rest while you’re hurt,” Yuuto waved his hand and said lightly.

“Begging your pardon, but I don’t believe we have that luxury. No doubt we’ll face the Flame Clan again soon. As I am right now, I won’t be able to defeat Shiba,” she said in a rather despondent tone.

Up until now, he’d been content to simply watch over her efforts much like a loving father would, but given her proclivity for taking her stoicism to the extremes, it appeared that things might have been more serious than he’d initially believed.

“Mm.”

Yuuto nodded to re-center his thoughts and looked carefully at Sigrún’s expression. Generally, Sigrún never showed much emotion and was somewhat difficult to read, but Yuuto had known her for four years now. He was able to read the subtle changes in her expression. As he did so, Yuuto let out a small sigh.

“I understand how you’re feeling, but aren’t you putting too much on your shoulders?” he asked worriedly.

Yuuto understood the need to deal with a problem on his own. In particular, when he had returned to Yggdrasil after a brief trip to the present, he had taken everything upon himself to protect the others from the harsh truths of their world. Things had ended without any real problems thanks to the kindness of the people around him—people like Mitsuki, Felicia, and Linnea—but without them, he probably would have been crushed under the weight of the responsibility he felt bearing down upon him at the time. He couldn’t help but see much of that version of himself in Sigrún’s current expression.

“Am I really taking too much upon my shoulders?” No doubt she had no real awareness of it herself. Sigrún looked at him curiously.

“I agree with Big Brother, Rún. Given that he was able to overpower you, no doubt this Shiba is a very powerful opponent. But he alone won’t decide the outcome of a battle.”

“Yeah, Felicia’s right. Setting aside the occasional exception like Steinþórr, there’s a limit to the power of an individual. If you can’t beat him alone, then it’s fine to send a group after him.”

War wasn’t a sport. It was a fight to the death. There was no point in adhering to principles of fair play or misguided notions of honor and getting yourself and your companions killed as a result. If the worst came to pass, they could end up losing the war entirely. It may not be the honorable thing to do, but tactics sometimes required less than honorable conduct.

“I do understand that is the case,” said Sigrún as she nodded in agreement.

“Okay. In that case, take some time to heal. If you injure yourself further and we’re unable to have you, the Mánagarmr, on the frontlines, that’ll hurt our army’s morale. That would be completely self-defeating.”

While it was certainly true that a single individual couldn’t change the tide of a battle on their own, Sigrún’s presence on the battlefield was indispensable to the Steel Clan Army. She was a beautiful, delicate-looking young woman, resembling one of the sprites from myth, and she had defeated countless warriors of repute on the battlefield. She was, in a way, the Steel Clan’s very own Joan of Arc. Just her presence on the battlefield gave a massive boost to the army’s morale.

“I see. My apologies for troubling you. As you say, Father, if I overwork myself in training and can’t fight, that would cause more problems than it would solve.” Sigrún nodded as though in understanding. It seemed that this matter had been settled. However...

“You’ve gotta be kidding me...”

“Oh, Rún.”

That night, Yuuto and Felicia couldn’t help but worry about Sigrún and made their way to the Múspell Unit’s camp to find exactly the sight that they dreaded they would find.

“Hah, mrmph, grmph!”

“Yah, hrmph, hyah!”

Sigrún and Hildegard were sparring with wooden swords lit by the moon and the campfires. Hildegard appeared to have the advantage. Ordinarily, Sigrún was almost certainly more skilled than Hildegard, but it seemed the fact that she was fighting with her weaker hand meant that she couldn’t quite wield her wooden sword as effectively as she would have liked. Hildegard continued to press her advantage.

“And stop!” Yuuto couldn’t bear it any longer and gave the order for them to stop.

Hildegard’s expression was set in a look of intense concentration. She had a tendency to lose herself in whatever she was doing and would struggle to think clearly as a result. If the match had continued, Yuuto felt Sigrún might very well get injured again.

“Father?”

“Your Majesty?!”

At the chastisement of the highest-ranking holder of the Chalice, the two of them stopped their match and turned to face him.

“Why are you here so late? Do you have a new assignment?” Sigrún asked in her usual tone, wiping the sweat from her brow. Even Yuuto couldn’t help but twist his face into a grimace.

“I told you to rest when you can, didn’t I? Didn’t you agree with me?” he said with a harsher tone than usual. It wasn’t that he was angry that she had ignored his advice, he was simply concerned for her safety. To Sigrún, however, she felt she was being chastised and slumped her shoulders as a result of the telling-off.

“M-My apologies. I misunderstood what you said. I thought you meant I should continue training while being careful not to get hurt.”

“Oh, okay, I get it now... Can’t you just focus on physical training for now, at least until your hand heals?”

“If you command it, Father, then I’ll obey. However...” Sigrún’s expression belied her words; she seemed unhappy at the prospect.

“You don’t seem to be fully convinced. If something is bothering you, tell me.”

“No, I understand that what you’re saying is correct, Father.”

“Come on, out with it. You always place me on a pedestal, but I’m just a normal human being. There’s plenty of things I miss.”

“Oh, um, well, then... I understand that you’re speaking out of concern for me, Father, but if I stay away from fighting for too long, I feel it would end up dulling my battle instincts...” Sigrún said hesitantly as she glanced around awkwardly. She was fiercely loyal to Yuuto. She appeared to be struggling immensely with the idea of going against his wishes.

“Hrm.” Yuuto rubbed his chin in thought.

Sigrún was always on the front lines, spear in hand. The thing that made the biggest difference between life and death on the battlefield was those battle instincts she had just mentioned. He understood why she wanted to keep her senses sharp in that regard.

“It’s tricky to deal with, isn’t it?” Yuuto scratched at his head as he furrowed his brow in thought.

The type of training he’d just witnessed seemed a little bit too risky given Sigrún’s current state. The bandage around her head bothered him more than he wanted to admit. However, he also didn’t want to lose her just because he’d forced her to set aside her training. It was hard for him to decide what the right call was under the circumstances.

“Okay then. Please just make sure you don’t get hurt. Be really careful about that.” In the end, it was Yuuto who gave in. While he had some training in fighting for self-defense, he wasn’t much better than any other novice warrior. By contrast, Sigrún was the greatest warrior in the Steel Clan. An amateur telling a professional what to do would just confuse the matter. That was how he had reached his decision, but he would immediately regret making that call.

“See? See? Hey, daddy, what should I do next?” the girl asked Nobunaga as she looked up at him eagerly. She looked to be about ten years of age. She was a cute, innocent-looking girl with black hair and black eyes.

“Hah! That is a good question. You’re quite the hard worker, Homura.”

“Hehe! Thanks, daddy.”

Nobunaga patted her on the head, and the girl’s expression lit up in a happy smile. Her name was Homura. She was the daughter of Nobunaga and a local woman whom Nobunaga had met after he arrived in Yggdrasil.

“Remarkable... The wheat has actually fully grown in just two months... It’s truly unbelievable no matter how many times I look at it.”

Ran shook his head as he gazed out at the field of grain stretching out well off into the horizon. He understood well that it was pointless to deny the sight before him. However, Ran was the man who had come to Yggdrasil with Nobunaga and had spent the past decade or so as Nobunaga’s right-hand man, handling the governing of the Flame Clan as his Second. The conventional wisdom he had built up over the years made it difficult for him to accept what he saw before him. After all, the grain had grown to maturity in less than half the usual time. It should have been impossible. Even his master, Nobunaga, the revolutionary mind that had ended the Warring States Period, couldn’t have accomplished it on his own. What had made it possible was—

“Hehe! Is it amazing? It’s amazing, right?!”

—the power of this seemingly innocent smiling girl.

Her gaze held not only hopes of praise from her father, but a pattern that looked like a flower. She was a twin-runed Einherjar. She was one of the rare individuals who had been blessed with two runes, one of perhaps only three to possess such powers in all of Yggdrasil. Ran had always heard stories of how extraordinary the powers of those with twin runes might be, and it forced him to accept that the sight of the golden grain stretching out over the horizon was real. Her powers were far beyond that of ordinary human beings.

“Yes. I, Ran, am extraordinarily impressed by your accomplishment.”

“Extra...ordinar...ily?” Homura furrowed her brow quizzically. Ran immediately understood that he had slipped up, but it was too late. Homura’s eyes narrowed as she looked upon him.

“Hey, Ran? Didn’t I tell you before? Don’t use difficult words with me!”

“Ah! M-My apologies!” Ran sucked in a breath at the chilling gaze that she directed at him. It was a glare that felt completely out of place from a child of her age. He reflexively bowed his head in apology. He couldn’t help but do so. The intimidating glare was just like that of his master, Nobunaga. While it wasn’t quite at his level, it was more than enough to send a cold shiver up Ran’s spine. She had a remarkable presence given that she wasn’t even ten years old.

“Mm, good.” Homura nodded, her expression returning to the bright, innocent smile from a moment earlier. Ran sighed in relief. However—

“But don’t make me too mad, okay? I don’t want to kill one of daddy’s favorites.” He froze at the words she murmured after. While Ran had recently been caught under the weight of all the administrative work he needed to do in Nobunaga’s stead, he had originally been one of Nobunaga’s closest retainers, and he was quite skilled in battle in his own right. Even he couldn’t dismiss Homura’s words as a mere child’s jest though. The girl in front of him had the power to actually execute the threat she had voiced.

“Yes... I... I’ll be more careful in the future.”

Ran was about to say he would cautiously bear that in mind before he corrected himself with simpler words. It was a wise decision. The girl had the ruthlessness of her father. She had no reservations about killing people, doing so as though she were toying with an insect. While Nobunaga’s accumulated experience had given him the ability to tame that ruthlessness, Homura was still a child and lacked that self-control.

He needed to be remarkably cautious when dealing with her.

“I suppose this does make for an interesting twist of fate,” Ran couldn’t help thinking to himself.

While, yes, he certainly feared her, there was a part of Ran that was ecstatic. Though Nobunaga was still rather spry for now, he was over sixty years old and quickly coming into his late years. For his most loyal retainer, the presence of someone who could become the next ruler was a fact worth celebrating. The ability to make cold, ruthless decisions and act on them was a trait necessary for a ruler. While Nobunaga had over twenty children in the land of the Rising Sun, Ran felt that they were all, at best, average in ability. Nobunaga’s eldest son, Nobutada, had the character and ability to serve as Nobunaga’s successor, but he was still lacking when compared to his father. Ran had never expected that a worthy successor to his master would be born in this far-off land. A successor who had Nobunaga’s conqueror’s aura and power.

“Yup, be careful.”

“Now, now, don’t be so mean to Ran.”

“Okaaay, daddy. Sorry, Ran.” Homura let out a dry laugh at her father’s chiding, but she quickly returned to her bright smile as she apologized to Ran.

Her moods changed on a dime, but that was very much expected of a child of her age, and she dearly loved her father.

“So, it’s about time to go. There’s enough grain, but I still have things I need you to do,” Nobunaga said as he gestured with his chin. Homura’s powers weren’t restricted to just making plants grow at an extraordinary rate. She had one more rune, and Nobunaga intended to make the best use of it.

“The Great Lord is the one who’s truly impressive,” Ran thought to himself.

Yes, Homura was remarkable. She had great promise, especially because of her twin runes. After all, the powers of the Einherjar were all supernatural and difficult to understand, similar indeed to the powers of demons and spirits, but her power was far beyond that of those ordinary Einherjar. At times, she seemed like a monstrous being to Ran.

A part of him felt that including such a being into one’s strategies was an act of madness. In reality, though, it was very much in character for Nobunaga, who had famously incorporated the culture of the Christian padres into his strategies when he viewed them to be logical and useful, tossing aside the conventional wisdom of his era. The fact that he could continue to incorporate such oddities into his thinking despite being past the age of sixty was beyond impressive.

Ordinarily, the older one got, the easier it became to be fixed in one’s ways. It often became harder for them to accept new ideas. Nobunaga, however, was a man who seemed to grow wiser and more innovative with age. It would almost be apt to describe him as aging like a fine wine. Ran couldn’t stop his lips from turning up into a smile.

“Let us get our revenge for our frustrations at Honno-ji this time, My Great Lord,” Ran murmured as though to remind himself, gripping his hand into a tight fist.

“Our preparations are complete.”

“Good to know.”

Shiba nodded with his arms still crossed as he listened to his adjutant Masa’s report. His reply sounded somewhat half-hearted, though this was likely because his gaze was firmly fixed on the horizon to the north of their current location. His mind was already far away in the Steel Clan lands that would soon become his next battlefield.

“This’ll let us finally pay them back for last time.” Shiba’s lips twisted up into a predatory smile as he dug his index fingers into his biceps.

During the Siege of Glaðsheimr, the Flame Clan had held the advantage over the Steel Clan from start to finish, but the Flame Clan had been forced to retreat just as they were on the cusp of victory when the Steel Clan pulled a rabbit out of its hat. They’d used their galleons—which, by all rights, shouldn’t have existed in this era—to conquer the Flame Clan capital of Blíkjanda-Böl. Shiba had fought against the unit that had attacked the clan capital and had even had the upper hand in his duel with the Steel Clan’s great Sigrún, but she and her forces had, in the end, eluded his grasp.

The Flame Clan, despite spending considerable resources on their previous campaign, had almost nothing to show for it. On top of that, they had suffered the humiliation of having their clan capital conquered and having lost an enormous amount of supplies to the enemy. It was a humiliating strategic loss, and a rather heavy one at that. However, they now had an opportunity to avenge that loss. It was impossible for Shiba not to be motivated.

“Heh. I’m looking forward to this.”

“You’re getting far too ahead of yourself.”

“Mm?!”

As he noticed the sound of an object cutting through the air behind him, Shiba reflexively leaped away from the spot he currently stood in. Even if his mind was elsewhere, his body reacted without a moment’s hesitation at the first sign of danger. It was a result of years and years of intense training.

“Hrmph. A shame you merely dodged it.”

Shiba turned to face his attacker to see an old man snorting at him with a look of boredom upon his features. The man was more than seventy years old and was completely bald, save for a bushy white beard adorning his features. His back had been bent by the burden of his years, and he walked with the help of a cane. His face was covered with wrinkles, but his eyes were as sharp as any younger man’s.

“Uncle. Please stop with your frightening jests.”

“Ho hoh, you’re far too skilled for this to be a threat to you,” the old man stated as he laughed in amusement. His name was Salk, and he served as the Flame Clan’s Leader of Subordinates. He was a warrior whose name had been known within the Flame Clan since he was but a lad, and he continued to wield his mastery of war as one of the five division commanders of the Flame Clan.

“Seems you’re ready to depart.”

“That’s correct. We intend to depart as soon as possible. I’ll leave the defense of the capital in your hands.”

“Sure, leave it to me,” Old Man Salk responded, and nodded firmly.

“Heh, it’s reassuring to know you’ll be here, Uncle,” Shiba returned with a laugh.

As a result of his experiences in countless past wars, Salk was known for the complicated tactics he employed in battle. He had been left with a force of around five thousand to defend the clan’s capital. It would be all but impossible for their enemy to capture the capital from under them once again. This meant that Shiba could fight without any consideration for what was occurring back home.

“So the lad I once knew as little more than a snotty brat has finally learned how to flatter, it appears? No wonder I feel so old.”

“I mean it, Uncle.” Shiba shrugged his shoulders with a dry laugh. There was something faintly embarrassing about having one’s childhood indiscretions brought up when one was now in their mid-thirties. While Shiba didn’t dislike this old man—in fact, he even held a certain fondness for him—he still found it hard to deal with someone who had known him since he was but a child.

“Hrmph, hard to be sure. Oh, that reminds me, you’ll be fighting alongside Kuuga this time, I believe?”

“Well, about that...”

“An unlucky man he is. If he didn’t have a younger brother like you, he’d have a little more confidence in himself.”

“Heh...” Once again, a dry laugh escaped Shiba’s lips. There really was something uncomfortable about dealing with a man who was so familiar with him.

“People all have their strengths and weaknesses. There’s plenty of things Brother Kuuga can do that I’m not capable of.” Shiba shrugged his shoulders with a sigh. He truly believed what he had just said.

It was certainly true that in terms of raw combat skill and in reading opportunities that appeared on the battlefield, he, as an Einherjar, was superior to his older brother. However, that didn’t mean he could definitively state he was better than his older brother. While Kuuga lacked the spirit that Nobunaga or Shiba possessed, he was a man who had steadily built up his position and had gotten results through steady effort. Nobunaga himself held Kuuga’s abilities as a governor in high regard, and it was precisely because of the balance between his high skill as an administrator and as a general that Nobunaga had placed Kuuga in charge of the old Lightning Clan territories. Shiba even admired his older brother for that.

“Those are the words of the strong; you know that, yes?” Salk smirked with a chuckle and cut right through Shiba’s observations. Shiba had nothing he could say to that retort. He had been an Einherjar for as long as he could remember, meaning that Shiba had been born as one of the strong.

“The strong can never understand how it feels to be weak. That’s the greatest weakness of the strong.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’m talking about dark feelings like envy, despair, cowardice, doubt, delusion, persecution—to find yourself looking down rather than up to vent your frustrations...”

“Huh? None of those sound like admirable things.” Shiba furrowed his brow skeptically. He didn’t say it out loud, but Shiba believed that being fixated on such things was why the weak stayed weak. Rather than being beholden to such useless emotions, shouldn’t they just focus entirely on achieving what they want? It was much more useful to focus on the positive, after all. That was how they’d actually achieve what they were seeking.

“Heh. You’re still young, aren’t you, Shiba?”

“Well, I haven’t even lived half your years, Uncle...” Shiba felt a stir of irritation at being described as young, but Salk outranked him. As a man who was more of a warrior than an intellectual, he also had no confidence in being able to win a war of words with this cunning old man. It was simplest for him to avoid giving offense and refrain from offering a counterargument.

“Heh. The weak have their own way of fighting. In fact, it’s a tale as old as time. The strong often underestimate the weak and end up being defeated as a result. Do watch yourself.”

“I’ve always prided myself on avoiding underestimating my enemy, but I thank you for your warning.” The old man’s words didn’t really ring true to him, but Shiba nodded in agreement anyway. While there were times when the old man’s teasing was an irritant to Shiba, he knew that the vast experience Salk had accumulated over the years made his advice hard to ignore. The least he could do was to remember his words, even if it was only in the back of his mind.

“I believe I’ll study how the weak fight by observing my brother this time.”

“Hrmph, that’s why I say you’re one of the strong,” Old Man Salk said with a snort.

Shiba’s best effort at respect got him a derisive snort in response. Just how was he supposed to respond to him? Shiba couldn’t figure out how to deal with this old codger.

“So they’re here,” Rasmus said in disgust as he stood atop a watchtower and watched the Flame Clan Army appear from over the horizon. According to his scouts, the enemy force numbered around ten thousand. The garrison at Fort Gashina currently housed a bit less than two thousand men. The gap between the two armies was large enough that the Steel Clan garrison stood no chance in open battle.

“The enemy’s commanded by one of the Flame Clan’s five division commanders, eh? Kuuga, I think his name was.”

The reports from Kristina’s Vindálfs suggested that Kuuga was quite a cunning commander. To their understanding, Kuuga wasn’t an Einherjar, nor was he a particularly skilled combatant on his own. However, intelligence was a more difficult trait to deal with than individual strength when it came to mass warfare. Indeed, Kuuga had made his mark among the Flame Clan’s generals in his clan’s campaigns against the Wind and Lightning Clans, two of the Ten Great Clans, by bringing down several fortresses. This man was an enemy that needed to be taken seriously.

“A talented commander who is commanding ten thousand troops. Reminds me of the Hoof Clan invasion from two years ago,” Rasmus said with a nostalgic smile. He remembered that invasion as though it were yesterday. His master, who had still seemed out of her depth at that time, had grown wonderfully into her role since. It made Rasmus acutely aware of the passage of time.

“Heh, yeah, I honestly remember thinking that was the end,” Grer said in response. He was the man who had been appointed to head the garrison in Fort Gashina by Linnea. He was in his mid-twenties and was a muscular man who looked the part of a warrior. He was also one of the Brísingamen, the four great Einherjar of the Horn Clan.

“I don’t recall being particularly worried at the time,” Rasmus quipped with a faint snort as his lips twisted up into a grin. Grer looked at Rasmus, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Hm? Really?”

“I had already seen His Majesty’s immense conqueror’s aura in action by that point.”

“Ah, that,” Grer said with a tense smile as Rasmus’s comment triggered a memory.

“Yes, that.” Rasmus nodded in agreement. It was easy enough to imagine what Grer was thinking back upon. It was the time they had faced off against the Lightning Clan’s Dólgþrasir, Steinþórr. Rasmus couldn’t recall ever being more frightened in his fifty-something years of life. It was a harrowing experience to think about even now.

“That could only have been described as the air of a conqueror. Not to mention the fact that he then conquered the Holy Capital of Glaðsheimr and became þjóðann just two years after.”

“We truly are blessed to be born in this age as members of the same clan as such an extraordinary heroic figure.”

“Bad for the heart, though.”

“Heheh, yes, that is certainly true. Especially since mine hasn’t much life left in it!” Rasmus laughed dryly, shrugging his shoulders. In Yggdrasil, living into one’s fifties was a mark of a long life. Rasmus was already in that age range. He was at an age where he could quite literally drop dead at any moment.

“You say that, but you seem quite hale and healthy to me.”

“Despite appearances, my body’s rattled by all sorts of aches and pains,” Rasmus said as he rubbed his right shoulder. It was the spot where he had been injured in the battle against Steinþórr. While it wasn’t a life-threatening injury, he had been unable to wield a sword ever since. That injury was why he had abdicated his position as the Horn Clan’s Second and gone into semi-retirement to serve as the clan’s Leader of Subordinates.

“Putting aside your shoulder, the rest of you looks fine. If anything, I feel like you’ll still be around to see the princess’s grandchildren, Uncle.”

“The princess’s grandchildren, eh? I certainly do want to see them. They’ll be adorable for sure! So, to protect that future, we need to put in the effort here, don’t we?”

“Indeed, sir!”

As Grer energetically nodded in agreement, Rasmus looked rather sourly at him.

“Mm? What is it?”

“Well. It’s a bit hard to tell you, but... You should head back to the princess.”

“Wha?! Wh-What are you talking about?! Isn’t whether or not we can hold this fortress the key to this entire campaign?!” Grer protested. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was a natural reaction. As a warrior, being told to retreat from the front lines and back to the clan capital on the eve of a major battle was hugely humiliating. He couldn’t describe it any other way.

“Can you tell me the reason, at least? If you can’t give me something good, then I just can’t follow those orders, even if they come from you, dear Uncle.” Grer continued his protest, drawing closer to Rasmus to drive home his point.

For Grer, who was still young and hadn’t yet achieved any great victories, this was a chance to prove himself. No doubt he had been burning with motivation, and Rasmus’s words felt like a splash of ice-cold water. It was even harder for Rasmus to give those orders as he understood exactly how Grer was feeling, but they were the words he needed to say.

“It’s on the express orders of the princess.”

“Mmph... I see...” Grer slumped his shoulders with a bitter frown. In Yggdrasil, orders from one’s Chalice parent were absolute. And if those were express orders, then no matter how difficult they were to follow, a child had to follow his parent’s orders.

“But why though...?”

“Not a clue. I wasn’t told the reason.”

That was a lie. In fact, Grer’s dismissal was actually Rasmus’s idea.

As previously mentioned, the enemy this time was a powerful foe who possessed an overwhelming advantage in numbers and was led by a skilled commander. While Grer had shown flashes of potential, it was still a heavy burden to place on a young and inexperienced commander like him. Not to mention that Grer still had a long and bright future ahead of him. Rasmus needed Grer to support Linnea over the next several decades alongside Haugspori, the Horn Clan’s Assistant Second. He wasn’t an asset that could be risked in a battle like this. Of course, the young man wouldn’t accept such a reason, even if Rasmus explained it to him in those terms, which was why he had convinced Linnea to issue express orders for him to return to Gimlé.

“Besides, you and I are the only Einherjar present from the Horn Clan. Given that we don’t know what will happen, at least one of us should be there to support Her Highness.” Rasmus shrugged his shoulders and uttered the words he’d prepared beforehand. He hoped they sounded convincing. The words weren’t a lie, however.

Although they called themselves the Brísingamen—the Four Flames—two of them had already been killed in the war against the Lightning Clan two years ago, and Haugspori, known as one of the greatest archers in Yggdrasil, was away with the Steel Clan Army in the east.

“Well, I understand that, but aren’t you better suited for a role like that, Uncle Rasmus?”

“I can’t hold a sword and I’m old. I’m a bit lacking in terms of the strength needed to protect Her Highness. Especially so when you consider there’s another to protect in the princess’s belly.”

“I see...”

While he wasn’t completely satisfied with the reasoning, it seemed Grer at least understood the orders. Rasmus silently apologized to Grer, but at the same time let out a sigh of relief. He had been worried Grer would obstinately insist on staying.

“Anyway, leave this to me. While I may not have the ability to fight toe-to-toe these days, I still have the wisdom and experiences I’ve gathered over my fifty years of life. When it comes to defending against a siege, that’s far more important than individual valor. I doubt there’s anyone better suited to the task than me at present,” Rasmus stated.

That was precisely the reason he had pushed his ailing body to come to the front lines.

“So this is Fort Gashina...” Kuuga furrowed his brow as he looked up at the towering wall. Gashina had been strategically placed. It was a fortress that needed to be captured in order to be able to invade the Horn Clan capital of Fólkvangr or the Steel Clan capital of Gimlé.

“Tch, I had heard that this would be a difficult nut to crack, but actually looking at it makes it even worse. This’ll be trouble,” Kuuga spat with a click of his tongue.

While the mountains that surrounded the fortress weren’t particularly high, they were significant enough to make it difficult to deploy a large army. To make things worse, it was widely understood that during a siege, the attacking force required five to ten times as many troops as the defending force in order to capture a fortress. With all that in mind, taking down Fort Gashina would be rather challenging.

“It certainly looks impregnable, but I believe that this fortress has changed hands several times over the past two years. Perhaps there’s some hidden path or some other weakness that can be exploited?”

“None of the previous sieges are of any use to us.” Kuuga furrowed his brow, a sour expression on his face as he responded to his child.

“Is that true...?”

“Yes. The Wolf Clan took over a mostly empty fortress after crushing their opponent in a field battle. While the Lightning Clan’s Dólgþrasir, Steinþórr, used his powers as a twin-runed Einherjar to tear open the gates by hand, that’s something only he can manage. When the Panther Clan took it, they used a monstrous catapult that threw boulders that needed several grown men to carry. These are all things we lack.”

“A-Ah... I hadn’t realized you had already looked into those battles.”

“I can never rest easy before a campaign if I don’t gather all the information I can ahead of time. After all, I don’t have much in the way of talent or courage.” Kuuga replied to his child’s admiration with a dismissive chuckle. Having been compared to his immensely talented younger brother throughout his entire life, Kuuga was well aware that he was a painfully average man. He knew that he wouldn’t always succeed; that he’d eventually fail at some point or other. He understood that reality very well and recognized it more than he’d ever wanted to. However, if he knew that failure was a distinct possibility, then he could take the measures necessary to deal with those missteps. Gathering as much information as possible was one of the ways he could reduce the chances of his defeat.

“If we had time, we could just surround them and wait until they run out of supplies and surrender,” Kuuga said bitterly, chewing on his right thumbnail. It was an act he engaged in when he was faced with a difficult problem. He was aware of it, and he wanted to kick the habit, but since it was something he did subconsciously, he tended to do it without realizing it.

“If we dally here, Shiba will arrive before we know it.”

If that happened, there would have been no point in deciding to strike out early. Even if they conquered the fortress with Shiba’s forces, that glory would be split between the two of them. No, if anything, there was a very real possibility that Shiba’s overwhelming presence on the battlefield would overshadow the groundwork he had done to allow for their victory, and Shiba might very well end up with the lion’s share of the credit.

It could end up worse than that, in fact. Shiba could make use of his talent for charging headfirst and force his way into the fortress. If that happened, he’d once again just be a foil that made his younger brother’s star shine that much brighter. That was the situation he wanted to avoid no matter what, even if it could cost him his life.

“Then what shall we do?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I was hoping I’d come up with something when we actually got here,” Kuuga said with a deep sigh, scratching at his head. He knew all of this coming into this siege, but the world didn’t work that conveniently, especially for him.

“Well, then, I suppose we have no choice but to try each tactic one by one. We’ll be cautious even as we’re quick. We should be able to find at least one weakness in the process,” Kuuga muttered to himself, before giving orders to his subordinates. This was the only way he could fight.

“Damn. Curse my lack of talent,” Kuuga murmured to himself, shaking his head. However, the truth of the matter was that the Flame Clan leadership’s evaluation of Kuuga was the exact opposite of his self-appraisal. Kuuga never relied upon outlandish tactics or reckless risks—using plain but certain steps—and slowly cornered his enemies as though strangling them with a silk rope. He was always cautious and on guard, considering countless possibilities in his tactics, never leaving an opening for his enemy. He was perhaps one of the most difficult enemies to ever have to deal with. Kuuga was more than capable as far as Nobunaga was concerned, and he was a man who valued merit above all else. That view was made perfectly clear by his decision to appoint him an army division commander.

“Sigh... I despise the naturally gifted. Damned bastards!”

Of course, Kuuga himself had no awareness of that fact.