Hyakuren no Haou to Seiyaku no Valkyria - Volume 19 - Chapter 5

ACT 5

“Waaaa! Mother Rún! I’m so glad you’re alive! What a great day this is!”

“Stop making such a racket. You’re making my head ring.”

In Iárnviðr, Hildegard and Sigrún were having their moving reunion. While her words and expression suggested that Sigrún was displeased, in truth, this was a wonderful reunion with her beloved little sister. Not to mention, it had come after an enormous natural disaster. She had been concerned for Hildegard’s safety whilst they had been separated. She was pleased to see that she was safe.

That said, she had overused the Realm of Godspeed during her battle with Shiba, and she was suffering from a massive headache as a result of that. Hildegard’s loud, clear voice was only making it worse.

“But, but...! We couldn’t find you for days! I was so worried you were dead! Why wouldn’t I be crying tears of happiness right now?! Waaaaah!”

As Hildegard’s bawling intensified, Sigrún’s face took on a look of utter exhaustion. As always, Hildegard made no effort to actually listen to what anyone was saying. Still, in this case, it was somewhat forgivable that she would be so overcome with emotion. Following the great earthquake, it had taken Sigrún three days to return to Iárnviðr, largely because she had struggled to even walk in the aftermath of her intense battle with Shiba—especially because she was suffering from the aftereffects of overusing the Realm of Godspeed. Just as she had started to seriously consider the possibility that she might starve to death out in the wilderness, her beloved wolf Hildólfr had found her, and she had returned to Iárnviðr atop Hildólfr’s back.

“Yes, you’re totally right. I’m sorry I made you worry. As you can see though, I’m alive, so rest easy.”

For the moment, Sigrún decided to focus on reassuring the crying Hildegard. Ordinarily, she would never let Hildegard occupy the moral high ground, but if she let Hildegard carry on as she was, she might very well be forced into Valhalla as her headache reached unbearable heights.

“Sniff, sniff... So long as you understand. I was really worried!”

With that, Hildegard loudly sniffed and cleared her nose. It seemed her flood of emotions had abated somewhat after Sigrún had shown that she understood Hildegard’s feelings. Sigrún let out a soft sigh of relief. However, things hadn’t calmed down just yet.

“Sigrún! You’ve returned! Thank the gods!”

Sigrún let out a grunt of pain as a different, equally ringing voice pierced her head. Linnea had arrived. While she wasn’t speaking very loudly, she had a voice that carried a long distance. Normally, Linnea’s voice was very reassuring to hear, but today, Sigrún would have preferred not to hear it.

“If you’d died, I wouldn’t have known what to say to Father. Well done for getting back alive!”

“I-I did what I could... I made it back alive somehow,” Sigrún answered with a forced smile.

While Sigrún could issue orders to Hildegard, who was her junior, Linnea was her sworn big sister. Not only that, but Linnea was also the Steel Clan’s Second—the clan officer in charge of all of its children. It would have been one thing had she been a dull and incompetent individual, but Sigrún admired Linnea for her ability. She couldn’t bring herself to speak disrespectfully to her.

“You don’t look to be in the best shape though. Are you injured?”

Linnea’s expression clouded with worry as she saw that Sigrún wasn’t sitting atop Hildólfr’s back, but rather lying atop it.

“I just pushed myself a bit too far. I believe I’ll recover with a bit of time.”

Though she was still struggling to walk, her current state was still a vast improvement. After all, immediately following her battle with Shiba, she had been left practically paralyzed by her pain.

“Too far, you say? What could possibly have occurred for you to end up in such a state?”

“I found myself having to face off against Shiba after I had crawled ashore.”

“What?! Shiba?! D-Did you win?!”

It seemed the news had been a total shock for Linnea. Her eyes went wide with surprise.

“If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be speaking to you right now.”

“Oh, yeah... That makes sense. It’s a blessing that you made it out alive.” Linnea then slowly let out a long sigh of relief.

In the Steel Clan’s most recent engagement, Linnea had taken supreme command of the clan’s forces. Given that Shiba had somehow managed to escape a complete Steel Clan encirclement through his sheer skill as a warrior, she understood just how powerful a foe he was.

“It truly was. Honestly, I can only consider myself lucky to have survived.”

It had been by nothing more than coincidence that she had been able to enter the Realm of the Water Mirror. She had only come to understand how to make use of it because she had overused the Realm of Godspeed, and her consciousness had grown hazy. If she had retained any mental clarity at the time, she wouldn’t have been able to achieve what she had. Nearly losing consciousness during the fight would, in other circumstances, ordinarily be a death sentence. In this case, she had truly been lucky. She had literally won by the skin of her teeth.

“It doesn’t matter if it was luck or coincidence. All that matters is that you’re alive.”

Sigrún let out a grunt of pain as Linnea gently patted her shoulder. Even the slightest vibration sent jolts of pain running through her entire body.

“Ah, I’m sorry! I have to say though, that wasn’t a particularly heavy touch. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sure. I haven’t suffered any meaningful physical wounds. It’s just that whenever I enter the Realm of Godspeed, I end up with aftereffects like these.”

“I see... Well, rest and recover...is what I wish I could say, but we can’t afford you that luxury.”

“Did something happen to Father?!” Sigrún asked, reflexively sitting up atop Hildólfr. Pain wracked her entire body, but it didn’t matter to her—she was still needed on the battlefield. The fighting in the west had been settled, which must mean that she was needed in Ásgarðr, where Yuuto currently was facing off against the Flame Clan. Sigrún had already been anxious about the situation in Ásgarðr even before this point.

“Well, it’d be wrong of me to tell you to rest easy, but Father, at least, is in no immediate danger.”

“I-I see...”

Upon hearing Linnea’s response, Sigrún let out a sigh of relief. At the very least, things weren’t so bad that there was no chance of recovery. After all, even a twin-runed Einherjar couldn’t bring the dead back to life.

“But I would assume things aren’t going well?”

“Your assumption is correct. According to the carrier pigeon, the Gjallarbrú Fortress collapsed in the recent earthquake, and they were forced to retreat to the Holy Capital.”

“...I see,” Sigrún furrowed her brow and said bitterly.

It was true that the recent quake was much more powerful than any that had come before. Sigrún had heard that Gjallarbrú had been constructed using the same Roman concrete as Iárnviðr’s walls. Sadly, even that wasn’t enough to stand up to the force of such a monstrous earthquake.

“He intends to return to the Holy Capital to regroup and fight the Flame Clan forces there,” Linnea explained.

“It certainly does sound like things are rather grim,” Sigrún replied and nodded with a tense expression.

Even if it had been caused by a natural disaster, a loss was a loss. This loss was not the first, which only served to make things worse. In the Battle of Glaðsheimr that had taken place not long before, the Steel Clan Army had been defeated by the Flame Clan Army and made to retreat. Two straight losses... The impact such an eventuality would have on the army’s morale would be devastating. Winning against an army three times his number, one commanded by the legendary Oda Nobunaga, while his own army was sapped of morale would be a difficult task even for Yuuto.

“That they are. For that reason, we need to head to the Holy Capital as soon as possible. News of our victory in the west, as well as the prospect of their allies coming to aid them, will fill the hearts of the soldiers hunkered down in the Holy Capital with renewed vigor. Even more so if they were led by our army’s Goddess of Victory, the Mánagarmr who had just slain Shiba, the enemy’s greatest warrior.”

“I understand. I agree that there is no time for me to sit around resting.”

“As much as I hate to do this to you, it’s the truth of the matter. I’m leaving Father in your care. I’ll head to the Holy Capital as soon as the army’s main body is ready.”

Sigrún turned to her little sister and issued her orders.

“Yes, ma’am. Hilda, gather the others. We’re leaving immediately.”

Hildegard furrowed her brow in concern. “Immediately? Mother Rún, can you handle a march in that state?”

“Well, if I’m honest it’ll be quite hard, but I can’t afford to be selfish,” Sigrún replied.

“Selfish...?” Hildegard said with a faintly exasperated, dry laugh.

Sigrún understood what she wanted to say. While moving on horseback sounded easier than walking, the rider needed to maintain their balance as the horse rocked up and down along the way to avoid falling off. It was a relatively taxing ordeal, and given that Sigrún was suffering from sharp pains across her entire body with every movement, a horse would be an excruciating animal to ride.

“That’s too dangerous. Let’s get a chariot. That would make things a little...”

“No. We don’t know when the Flame Clan Army will advance on the Holy Capital. They might even be pursuing our men as we speak. We can’t afford to move that slowly.”

While a chariot was substantially faster than marching by foot, it was much slower than horseback. Given that every minute was valuable, there was only one feasible choice.

“You might be right, but it would all be for naught if you fell from your horse and hurt yourself.”

“I’m prepared for that eventuality.”

If it really came down to it, Sigrún getting injured to the point of being unable to fight would be absolutely fine, so long as she made it to the capital. After all, it was no exaggeration to say that morale was the most decisive factor on the battlefield, and as Mánagarmr, her presence alone would be more than enough to boost the army’s morale substantially. She couldn’t bear the thought that trying to shield herself from potential injury could lead to her being late to arrive to the battle, which could very well lead to Yuuto being killed in her absence. With that in mind, the highest priority right now was for Sigrún, the woman the soldiers worshipped as the goddess of victory, to get to the Holy Capital.

“I’m going, no matter what. If I end up pushing myself so far that I cannot fight, then so be it.”

“Oh for... When it comes to His Majesty—to Father—you completely lose your head.” Hildegard scratched at her head in frustration. It seemed she had given up trying to persuade Sigrún to consider a different course.

“Fine, whatever. I get it. I’ll do something about it. That’s my job, right?”

With a sigh, Hildegard lifted Sigrún from Hildólfr’s back... Then tossed her into the air.

“Wh-What are you doing?!” Sigrún said with a look of utter shock, but Hildegard then caught Sigrún on her back and carried her.

“I’ll carry you on my back. I can keep up with the unit’s march on foot,” Hildegard said with a tone of resigned exasperation and shook her head.

While she was smaller than Sigrún in stature, she boasted significantly greater physical abilities than her. Although the Steel Clan had a great number of Einherjar in its ranks, she was, without a doubt, one of the most physically gifted. Hildegard was certainly more than capable of carrying Sigrún on her back while also maintaining pace with the Múspell Unit’s march.

“Surely that must be difficult, even for you.”

“It is. Honestly, I don’t really want to do it. In fact, I already regret saying I would.”

“That’s fast!”

“But we’ve got no choice, have we? Since I’m the only one who can do this, I don’t really have any say in the matter. It’s a pain in the ass, and I really don’t want to! I really don’t want to do it!” Hildegard repeated her complaints as she expressed her displeasure with the situation. Sigrún couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

“You’ve grown quite a bit,” she said, deeply moved.

Ordinarily, the sight of someone whining this much wouldn’t instill a belief that the person in question was mature by any stretch of the imagination, but it was worth remembering that when Hildegard had knocked on the door of the Múspells asking to join a little over a year earlier, she was horrendously self-absorbed and completely unable to think about anyone but herself. Hildegard had grown as a person to the point where she could now think of the needs of the Steel Clan and her mentor Sigrún. Sure, she was complaining, but she was volunteering to do something for someone other than herself. That was a huge improvement. What else could you call it?

“Hrmph. That’s because you’ve done nothing but train me day in and day out, Mother Rún. So thanks to that, I’ve built up a stupid amount of energy,” Hildegard pouted and said with a touch of snark. It seemed she hadn’t quite grasped what Sigrún had really meant. It was, however, true that the combination of her hellish daily regimen of training and the fact that Hildegard was in the middle of a growth spurt meant she was also physically substantially stronger than she was a year ago.

“Okay, I’ll leave it to you, then. I apologize for this, but I need to rely on you.”

“Sure, whatever. I’ll take care of it.”

“Make sure you don’t shake me that much. Also, if you can hold me lower down, that would be much better. Ah, also...”

“You’re being awfully demanding!”

“That’s because it’s you holding me. Surely you can manage it, right?” Sigrún went out of her way to say with a taunting tone.

She had known her for over a year. Sigrún knew full well that this was the best way to motivate Hildegard to work harder.

“H-Hrmph! Of course! This is easy!”

As expected, Hildegard took the bait almost immediately. Sigrún chuckled affectionately at her adorable and easy-to-control little sister.

The battle between Hveðrungr, staff officer of the Steel Clan, and Homura, daughter of the Flame Clan patriarch, had started on the plains south of the Holy Capital of the Glaðsheimr. Sparks flew from Hveðrungr’s nihontou and Homura’s dagger as the pair clashed.

In combat involving weapons, engagement range was extraordinarily important. A common understanding was that it took three times as much skill to defeat an opponent with a sword whilst unarmed. While Homura wasn’t unarmed, the dagger she wielded was only half the length of Hveðrungr’s blade. Hveðrungr had an overwhelming advantage in terms of his weapon... Or so he should have, but once the battle had actually started, Homura was the one on the offensive.

“C’mon! If you’re not gonna attack me, then I’m just gonna keep going!”

Homura swung her dagger as her whims dictated. There was no sort of form behind her attacks. She was just attacking as she liked, and there was no trace of logic or reason to her blows. The reason she was overwhelming a man as strong as Hveðrungr despite that was simply because of the sheer difference in their speeds.

A tone of irritation spilled from Hveðrungr’s lips. His arms, legs, and clothing had already been struck multiple times. While it seemed he had somehow avoided taking a lethal wound, he hadn’t been able to completely evade Homura’s attacks.

“Hehe... How long will you last?” Homura said with a cruel smile.

Hveðrungr wasn’t actually weak. In fact, Homura admitted that he was quite strong. Shiba was about the only one in the Flame Clan capable of defending against her to this extent. Now, as for Shiba, Homura had thought he had promise, however—

“Hahahah! I would certainly love to fight you at full strength in about five years, Lady Homura!” he had said to her. He had treated her as a child, so Homura had sworn she would never make him her lackey.

“Have you started to understand the extent of my power?”

“Yeah. I’ve gotten a good grasp now.”

“So, gonna surrender? I won’t kill you if you’ll become my lackey!”

“Heh, kill me? There’s no way you can,” Hveðrungr said as he laughed derisively. Although he had been completely on the defensive in the battle so far, he still managed to maintain his cockiness.

“Not getting it yet, huh? You need a little more punishing!”

“I’d say the same about you.”

As they argued, they continued their exchange of blows. Homura still held the advantage. Hveðrungr was still fully occupied with his defense and was unable to get in any meaningful attacking blows. However, one thing had changed. Hveðrungr, who had been gritting his teeth until earlier, was now smiling.

It was now Homura’s turn to let out a cry of frustration. Homura had been completely on the offensive. Her opponent wasn’t able to keep up with her speed in the slightest. However, despite having inflicted multiple scratches on him, she hadn’t been able to land anything deep enough to slow him down. He kept avoiding her blows at the very last moment. No, wait... When was the last time she’d landed her dagger on his body? She hadn’t been able to connect a single blow for a while now.

“I’d been rather cautious until now despite you being a brat since you’re twin-runed, but I guess this is all you’re capable of,” Hveðrungr said as he smirked maliciously.

Even if she was a child, Homura understood that he was deliberately drawing parallels to the things she had said to him before the battle to mock her. She hated to be looked down upon more than anything else. She felt something snap inside her.

“Okay, no more nice Homura! DIE!”

She had been aiming for Hveðrungr’s arms and legs to try to disable him because he had promise, and she had wanted to make him her lackey, but her patience had reached its limits. She had no need for someone who mocked her despite being an inferior form of life. With a powerful murderous intent, she unleashed her dagger at his face and torso. The sound of steel against steel rang out.

“Oh. You’ve changed where you’re aiming, eh?”

Much to Homura’s chagrin, however, he easily blocked the blows as he continued to smirk that irritating smirk.

“Graaaaaah!”

Homura made her anger evident as she swung her dagger wildly.

“DIE DIE DIE!”

“Hah! Sorry, but you’re gonna have to try a little harder if you want to kill me.”

“You...! Wait, what?!”

The dagger that she had thrust out in anger suddenly slipped in a different direction than Homura had intended. It was as though she had slipped in the mud and had almost lost her footing. All she could feel was the weird sensation of being unable to get her feet under her and sliding in directions she didn’t want to go.

And then came the shudder...

A cold shiver ran up Homura’s spine as though someone had suddenly dropped snow onto her back. She saw Hveðrungr’s black mask out of the corner of her eye. The eyes behind his mask had no life behind them—only the cold, sharp embodiment of his murderous intent.

“Yah!”

Hveðrungr let loose a sharp war cry as his blade sliced through the air.

“Eep!”

She was going to die. The moment that thought ran through her mind, Homura jumped in the direction that she had been driven to. That decision had saved her life. Hveðrungr’s blade passed just over her head. She clearly felt a cutting wind pass over her scalp. Had she been even a fraction of a second slower in her decision, her head would have been split in twain.

“Nooooo!”

Her momentum carried her forward, and on her hands and knees, Homura scurried away from Hveðrungr like a fleeing hare. She felt her heart pound painfully in her chest. It wasn’t because of intense exercise. It was all from fear of death. Homura slowly, hesitantly, cautiously looked behind her. With a short cry, she turned away, every one of her features twitching in fear. Homura, with her twin runes, felt something that the ordinary person couldn’t see. What stood before her was a void. No rage. No hatred. No fear. No resolve. Just pure, untamed murderous intent.

“Wh-What the heck...are you?!” Homura eked out through her chattering teeth.

Despite her overwhelming talent, she lacked any meaningful combat experience. While she had engaged in numerous mock battles against Flame Clan soldiers, this was essentially her first real battle. She had never witnessed the terrifying sight that was the murderous intent exuded by a truly great warrior.

“Tch. I thought I had her.”

Falling back into his regular stance after swinging his blade, Hveðrungr let out a disappointed sigh as he looked upon Homura. There was none of the derision or mockery from earlier present in his expression. He knew better than anyone that he could spare himself no allowance to look down upon a twin-runed opponent.

His entire attitude had been an act; a bluff to enrage his opponent—to force her to lose her head in the heat of battle and make her attacks easier to read, so he could catch her on the counter-attack when she overcommitted.

“Nothing is easy when it comes to twin runes, is it?”

Hveðrungr had maneuvered the girl right into his trap, and yet she had somehow managed to defy all reasonable expectations and avoid his attack. He had used the Willow Technique to force her to lose her footing and had unleashed what he had planned to be a killing blow, and yet all he had managed to do was cut off a few strands of her hair. The raw instinct that drove her to leap in the direction she had been forced into was something straight out of the Dólgþrasir’s playbook.

“I suppose she may look like a kitten, but she’s still a tiger cub.”

He was forced to admit with a resigned sigh that Homura was going to be a difficult opponent to kill. In Hveðrungr’s long experience in battle, the fastest opponent he had faced to date had been Sigrún whilst she was under the effects of the Realm of Godspeed. However, in terms of raw speed, Homura was clearly faster. That speed made her an extremely dangerous opponent in and of itself. If she had the training to combine that speed with an understanding of the mechanics of sword fighting, even he wouldn’t be able to do anything against her.

“That said, a tiger cub is still just a cub. It may pose some threat, but it’s certainly not unkillable.”

Though he believed he would have never been able to best a monster like Steinþórr in single combat, he was sure that Homura was an opponent he could take down. Yes, she too may be a tiger, but she was still just a cub—powerless in comparison to a fully-grown tiger like Steinþórr.

“Better kill her before she matures into a tiger as fierce as him.”

Hveðrungr dangled his sword at his side and quickly approached Homura. While he appeared defenseless, it was a calculated risk to invite her to attack.

He moved with a firm conviction based on what he had learned through watching Homura’s movements in their initial exchange. Hveðrungr’s greatest weapon, his observational skills, had allowed him to grasp the tells that Homura gave off before she moved to attack. The fact that he was able to detect when she was about to attack meant that no matter how quickly she might move, he was always completely ready to deal with any of her blows.

“Sniff, sniff...”

As Hveðrungr approached, the girl shied away from him with a look of sheer terror, her teeth chattering uncontrollably. It seemed the last blow had completely unnerved her.

“It all makes sense now. This must be the first time she’s felt her impending death—that she’s felt a truly murderous intent coming from an opponent.”

Hveðrungr’s lips quirked into a smile.

The girl cowered, frozen as though she were a deer in the headlights. It was a common occurrence with those experiencing their first battle. In any given battle, the soldiers most likely to die were the ones who were finding themselves facing the reality of their potential end for the first time. The sudden exposure to the thick scent of death in the air and the sheer intensity of the hostility coming from all sides threw them into a panic, and they would either ignore orders and engage in reckless charges or end up freezing in place.

“I’ve been unlucky to this point, but it seems fortune’s finally smiling upon me.”

Hveðrungr thanked his luck to run into her at this stage in her life. It seemed that despite her strength, this girl had basically never been exposed to actual combat. Had she seen more combat before this encounter, he wouldn’t have been able to deal with her.

“Though things may be going well for me, it would seem that the same can’t be said for you.”

Had it been Sigrún or Skáviðr facing her, they might have hesitated in killing such a young girl. They may very well have been tempted to capture her and use her as a negotiating chip against the Flame Clan. Nobunaga was well known to care deeply about his own kin and make allowances for them that he wouldn’t for anyone else. Given she was named Homura and had black hair and black eyes—qualities that were extremely rare on Yggdrasil—she was likely the daughter of Nobunaga that had been mentioned in Kristina’s intelligence reports. That would have given the girl the chance to survive a battle against a powerful opponent, and she would have gained a priceless opportunity for personal growth.

Hveðrungr, however, was far more ruthless and driven by rational calculations than the aforementioned Mánagarmrs. He had already come to the conclusion that it was best to kill Homura here and now. After all, it was impossible to keep a twin-runed opponent restrained for long. Homura would likely use some ludicrous method to escape her confinement, and driven by resentment, she would become a dangerous opponent in the future. With all of that in mind, Hveðrungr brought down his blade without hesitation or guilt.

“Guh!”

Just as he was about to land the killing blow, an explosion rang through the air, and Hveðrungr felt a sharp jolt slam into his left shoulder as he was thrown backward. Even through the pain, Hveðrungr recognized the sharp retort of an arquebus that had echoed through the air. Someone had shot him, but that wasn’t the end of the attacks against him. A barrage of arrows soon followed the gunshot.

“Blast!”

Hveðrungr rolled backward to avoid the volley as he caught sight of an older man on horseback approaching with an escort of armed bodyguards, loosing arrows of his own at him all the while. The man’s accuracy with his bow from atop a horse traveling at full gallop was impressive, but what caught Hveðrungr’s attention was his black hair. There was only one man that could be.

“Daddy?!”

“Is that Nobunaga?!”

Homura and Hveðrungr shouted out at the same time. Even Hveðrungr was caught off guard at the sudden appearance of the Great Lord himself. Nobunaga rode over to Homura and smiled down at her.

“Ah, my dear Homura. Are you unhurt?”

Hveðrungr understood what Yuuto had meant when he said Nobunaga was attached to his kin and coddled them. Nobunaga had probably been watching his beloved daughter’s first battle from a short distance away, ready to swoop in if she was in actual danger.

“Tch, the odds are a bit too lopsided now,” Hveðrungr spat out bitterly as he glared at the cavalrymen gathered around Nobunaga. With the experience he had gathered over his many battles, Hveðrungr was capable of telling how powerful an opponent was simply by observing their slightest movements and their demeanor, and it was obvious to him with a mere glance that all of the cavalrymen present were accomplished warriors worthy of serving as Nobunaga’s bodyguards.

Of course, there was also the minor fact that he had been shot in his left shoulder. The shot had been a glancing blow, and Hveðrungr was still capable of fighting, but as much as he hated to waste an opportunity to attack the enemy’s supreme commander, even he had to admit it would be all but suicide to take on this many opponents alone as he bled profusely from his shoulder. In this particular instance, discretion was the better part of valor, and Hveðrungr quickly abandoned any thoughts of glory and switched over to figuring out how to escape. He reached into his breast to retrieve the item that would secure his retreat.

“Now, go and kill this insolen...Ah!”

Nobunaga paused mid-sentence and his expression tensed as he saw what Hveðrungr had retrieved from his pockets. It was somewhat smaller than the type Nobunaga was familiar with, but the ceramic orb could only be one thing...

“He’s got a tetsuhau!”

Nobunaga and his bodyguards reacted exactly as Hveðrungr had hoped. Nobunaga immediately leaped off his horse and, after picking up Homura, attempted to jump to safety. His bodyguards hurriedly reined in their horses as they prepared for the blast from Hveðrungr’s bomb.

“Nope, not quite.”

Hveðrungr smirked and threw the orb against the ground. Smoke billowed outward as it struck the ground and shattered. It was a smoke bomb that Hveðrungr carried around for just this type of situation. As a cautious tactician, Hveðrungr made it a point to always have contingency plans before committing to any scheme.

“Tch! A smokescreen!” Nobunaga observed bitterly as Hveðrungr made a run for the horse he had kept close by for this exact kind of situation. By the time the smoke cleared, he had already mounted his horse and set off at a gallop.

“Don’t let him go!”

“Chase him!”

“Heh, that’s a mistake,” Hveðrungr said with a malicious grin.

Nobunaga’s bodyguards gave chase, filling the air with angry shouts. They were evidently unaware that Hveðrungr had been patriarch of the Panther Clan. While the Panther Clan was now one of the member clans of the Steel Clan that made its home in western Álfheimr, when Hveðrungr had been at its head, they had been a nomadic clan of horse warriors based out of the Miðgarðr region.

“Guh!”

“Urk!”

Because of that ignorance, they were also unaware that the horse warriors of the Panther Clan had specialized in hit-and-run tactics using the Parthian Shot, the highly skilled art of firing backward at a chasing opponent on horseback. Two arrows, fired in rapid succession, brought down the first two cavalrymen chasing after Hveðrungr, forcing their companions to slow their pursuit. Taking advantage of the opening, Hveðrungr spurred his horse into a full gallop and quickly disappeared from their view as though carried off by the wind.

“Enough! Let him go!”

Nobunaga stopped his bodyguards with a single barked command before they could set off after the retreating black-masked horseman. Nobunaga clearly recalled seeing that man on the battlefield before as the commander of a cavalry unit that was ferociously skilled in the art of horseback archery. They had been a difficult enemy to defeat, raining down arrows with powerful bows that outranged his army while making maximum use of their mobility on horseback. Nobunaga knew that chasing after the horseman would result in more casualties as he launched arrows backward at the troops that pursued him.

“...Yes, My Lord.”

“Understood, My Lord.”

While the troopers reined in their horses and gave up their pursuit, Nobunaga saw the frustration in their faces. Though the enemy was skilled, he was but a single horseman. It was maddening to see him escape after having killed two of their comrades.

“I understand your frustration at losing two of your comrades. But I ask that you swallow it. Your responsibility is to protect myself and Homura.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

It seemed they had regained their composure, and this time, there was no hesitation before they answered. They had realized that chasing after an enemy in a rage and leaving their liege and his daughter unprotected would be a foolish abdication of their responsibilities. Still, it was only because they were assigned to be his bodyguards that they had obeyed his order. Nobunaga knew that even he would have struggled to rein in their anger had they been ordinary soldiers.

Nobunaga couldn’t help but admire the malicious genius behind the Parthian Shot. It was extremely difficult for a commander to stop his soldiers once they were overcome by the thrill of victory and rage. The Parthian Shot took advantage of that fact to draw soldiers into a killing zone even as the horsemen feigned retreat.

“I see now. He must also be the one who concocted this suicide rear guard strategy.”

Nobunaga nodded to himself, as though the pieces had finally fallen into place in some sort of mental puzzle. The Parthian Shot and the suicide rear guard had both been created by a man who understood how people reacted and had no qualms about manipulating them. The shared traits of those two tactics made it clear to him that it had been the masked man who had come up with both plans.

“Hveðrungr, formerly of the Panther Clan, if I recall. He may be serving the Steel Clan now, but I can see how he was able to raise a great clan during his own reign. An impressive man.”

Nobunaga was particularly impressed by the fact that Hveðrungr held no reservations about using whatever means were required to obtain his desired ends. Most in the world would condemn such an attitude as dishonorable. It was also hardly an outlook that was likely to garner a positive reputation. But the world wasn’t a gentle place where things could be accomplished solely by honorable means.

Nobunaga believed that what was most important was the dedication to achieve one’s goals regardless of what that required. To him, it wasn’t those with the greatest dreams that accomplished great feats in the world. It was those with the dedication and the unwavering commitment to do whatever it took, however underhanded and dirty, to achieve those feats. That was particularly true if the goal was conquest of the known world.

“H-He’s nothing! Nothing at all!” Homura said with a trembling voice and a complete lack of conviction. She was huddled in place, as though her legs had given out from under her, and her face was still pale with terror.

“In spite of all that, it seems he got the better of you, huh?”

“I-I just let my guard down a little! Next time I’ll... I’ll...!”

The moment she shouted out in defiance, a tremor went up Homura’s body, and she fell silent with a sob. It seemed the thought of a ‘next time’ made her imagine fighting that man again. Once again, Nobunaga was impressed by Hveðrungr, admiring the fact he had so thoroughly terrified a twin-runed Einherjar.

“Heh. It was certainly a gamble, but one that seems to have paid off.”

As he watched his beloved daughter tremble, Nobunaga smiled inwardly.

The suicide tactics of the rear guard had given Nobunaga the conviction that a real warrior was among them, someone who was capable of instilling the fear of the gods in Homura’s mind. Hveðrungr had done exactly what Nobunaga had hoped.

Even without Nobunaga’s favoritism for his beloved daughter, Homura was an extremely capable and promising girl. She was everything one would believe a prodigy would be. Not only did she have the superhuman physical abilities of a twin-runed Einherjar, but she also was an extremely quick learner, had the sharp senses to notice things that others missed, and the smarts to make use of those skills. All this and she was still only ten years old.

There was, however, one thing that had concerned Nobunaga. It was the simple fact that Homura was too gifted, too talented—too much of a prodigy. Nobunaga had seen countless talented people throughout his lifetime. Those who had a gift for fighting from childhood and stood head and shoulders above their peers when it came to learning the art of fighting. But he had also seen them fail. He had seen those gifted youngsters freeze when faced with actual battle; watched them panic in the face of death. They’d fail to achieve anything and die without ever making use of their talent. That was exactly why Nobunaga had wanted Homura to experience real battle, and the fear that came with it, for herself.

“Let it go, let it go. That man’s made for war. No matter how often you try, you’re not going to defeat him,” Nobunaga went out of his way to say harshly to his beloved daughter in order to break her arrogance. While Nobunaga was gentle toward his kin—particularly his children—Homura was a child who had the character and the talent to become the next ruler of the Flame Clan. He needed to instill in her the discipline she would need to take his place before he was gone and it was all left to her. Before she needed to survive on her own.

“Sniff... Th-That’s not true! I-I’ll never ever lose to him again! B-Beating him’ll be easy!”

Even as Homura shied away at her father’s harsh words, she found the courage to insist that she would win next time. She was probably driven by a desire not to disappoint her beloved father. Even so, she was still just a child, and Nobunaga saw right through the fact that she was putting on a brave face for his sake.

“No, you won’t be able to. He approaches battle with a different level of commitment.”

“Commit...ment...?”

“Yes. You’re certainly a good daughter. But because you’re too good, you don’t know what it means to lose. You’re too accustomed to winning, to have things go easily. The confidence that comes from that sort of easy victory is a fragile thing. It crumbles the moment it faces an actual challenge. Just like you have now.”

Homura gazed downward, sobbing with frustration at Nobunaga’s critique. She was probably painfully aware of how weak and fragile her heart was. She had yet to stand up. She was still trembling from fear.

“However, darling, that’s what makes this experience such a blessing,” Nobunaga said with a softer tone after making certain that Homura had been adequately humbled.

Harshness alone wasn’t enough to push a person to grow. After sixty years of life, Nobunaga was more than aware that it took a combination of honey and vinegar to properly motivate and teach people. Nobunaga understood Homura’s frame of mind and applied the necessary kindness at precisely the right moment.

“Huh?”

“Face your fear and be able to control it. Use this humiliation as fuel to drive you. Never be satisfied with yourself, and always know you have much to learn. If you can remember that, you will never lose to anyone,” Nobunaga smiled gently and said to his daughter as she blinked in surprise.

He truly appreciated the masked man’s work. This was a lesson that no amount of words could teach. Even if he wanted to educate her through experience, neither he nor Shiba could convincingly teach her a fear of death. At the same time, there were few enemies who could actually inspire fear in Homura. The masked man’s skill and his cold, ruthless demeanor had been the perfect combination.

“No doubt you’re frustrated, you’re humiliated. No doubt you never want to experience this again. But it’s only when you overcome these things that you’ll truly begin your journey to becoming a true warrior,” Nobunaga gripped his hand into a fist and said with fierce conviction.

In Nobunaga’s book, those who relied upon their talents and took them for granted were second-rate. There were heights that couldn’t be reached through talent alone. There was a world that only those who experienced the bitterness of failure and yet overcame those setbacks without breaking could enter. Homura was finally at the entrance to that world. Whether or not Homura would overcome her fear or be broken by it was all up to her. All he could do was give her a push in the right direction. But Nobunaga had no doubt about the outcome. After all, she was his greatest accomplishment—the child that he knew was worthy of being his successor.

“Let us go, Homura. Avenging your humiliation is something you need to do for yourself!”

“O-Okay!”

Homura nodded without hesitation at Nobunaga’s encouragement. There was a strong resolve in her eyes, even as her face was still pale from the lingering fear and her body still trembled. She would overcome her fear. Nobunaga smiled as that conviction grew within him. He was no longer concerned about what would happen when he was gone. It meant that he could now pour all of his effort into the war ahead—a venture which he was willing to give his body and soul in order to allow it to succeed.