Hyakuren no Haou to Seiyaku no Valkyria - Volume 21 - Chapter 1

ACT 1

“Ba ha ha ha! We have nothing to fear from the Flame Clan!”

“All we need to do is skewer them with our spears.”

“Glory to our reginarch, Suoh Yuuto!”

“Cheers!”

Valaskjálf Palace was abuzz with the sound of the spontaneous victory parties scattered around its grounds. The celebratory mood was understandable—they had won successive victories against the Flame Clan, an opponent against whom they had previously been forced to endure a string of humiliating defeats. They had even been able to kill one of the Flame Clan’s greatest generals, Vassarfall the Fáfnir, and Sigrún’s Múspell Unit, a symbol of victory to the Steel Clan, had joined up with their forces. Even without alcohol, the mood of the army was elevated by the circumstances.

“I’d heard we’d been ordered to keep fire away from the area at all costs. I never would have imagined the air itself would ignite had we disobeyed those orders...”

“Hah. I imagine the Flame Clan soldiers got a real fright.”

“Oh, they certainly did.”

Yuuto himself was busily engaged in an enjoyable chat with the Horn Clan general Haugspori, a key player in the recent victory, as the other generals celebrated around them. The subject at hand was the fire attack that they had unleashed on the Flame Clan using the highly distilled spirits at their disposal. Haugspori himself had been quite a distance away from the Flame Clan’s ranks, but it seemed he had gotten a good look at their reactions. Such was the eagle-eyed vision of the Steel Clan’s greatest archer and an Einherjar with the rune Ljósálfar, the Light Elves.

“I was certainly surprised by how you managed to pull that off. I heard you hit countless urns that the trebuchets launched. That was a feat of divine marksmanship,” Yuuto said in admiration.

“It wasn’t actually that big of a deal. When I first heard what needed to be done, I thought it would be impossible to pull off, but when it came to it, it was easier than shooting a flying bird. It was easy to read how they arced through the air,” Haugspori replied with a modest shrug of his shoulders. His expression, however, indicated he was proud of his accomplishment. “At the very least, I’m relieved I don’t have to give up the title of the Steel Clan’s greatest archer.”

“Ah, right, you won by two arrows, right?” Yuuto asked.

“Yes. Uncle Rungr was quite the shot, too, but I was still better,” Haugspori said, chuckling as his lips twisted into a proud smile. It seemed he was quite pleased to put one over on Hveðrungr, the man who had once been his enemy. There was something appropriate about the fact that Hveðrungr wasn’t quite able to topple the Clan’s, and perhaps Yggdrasil’s, best archer.

“Lord Haugspori, we’d appreciate it if we could have a bit of your time. It is only fair we get a chance to hear of your exploits.”

Haugspori let out a cry of surprise as a pair of arms suddenly grabbed him from behind. Of course, he wasn’t actually caught by surprise, and he was simply playing along with the act as part of the partying atmosphere. There was no way a man as accomplished in war would be caught by surprise from behind.

“Your Majesty, if we may drag him off?” a stern-looking man with a thick beard asked respectfully. His name was Fundinn. Though clad in a bare minimum of furs, he was a muscular man who showed off his physique without a hint of modesty. Although he appeared like any other mountain bandit, he was, in all actuality, the patriarch of the Mountain Dog Clan, and one of the highest-ranking members of the Steel Clan.

“Yeah, I’ve heard what I’ve wanted to hear. Go on and take him. With that said, it’s about time you returned the guest of honor of this party to me, wouldn’t you say?” Yuuto responded.

“Ah, of course. No doubt she would like to return to you as well, Father,” Fundinn said, nodding in agreement as he disappeared into the crowd, Haugspori in tow. Yuuto watched him depart and let out a long breath, letting his shoulders slump for a moment.

“Phew...”

Sieges were exhausting. While he had permitted victory celebrations to allow the soldiers to vent their frustrations and to improve morale, Yuuto himself still felt the pressure of being under siege. Yes, they had won the most recent engagement—the fact that they had been able to take down Vassarfall the Fáfnir, one of the Flame Clan’s Five Division Commanders, was a big accomplishment. They had, however, taken their share of losses. Though the number of dead was thankfully rather low, there were a fair number of wounded. A particularly painful loss had been the fact that Erna and Hrönn had been wounded gravely enough to knock them out of the fighting. The two were particularly notable for their offensive strength, even among the elite Einherjar that made up the Maidens of the Waves. Just having them on the front lines provided a massive boost to morale.

Yuuto had to admit that the forces he had at his disposal had been depleted by that battle. Furthermore, he had already expended one of his important trump cards—the distilled alcohol firestorm. The enemy had let the Steel Clan scatter alcohol over them because they weren’t aware that alcohol was flammable. He wouldn’t be able to use the same tactic a second time. Also, while the Flame Clan had lost their northern army, they retained their eastern, western, and main southern forces. Given that they had probably also collected the remnants of the northern army, they still probably had at least eighty thousand men at their disposal. The Steel Clan Army, however, numbered just a touch over thirty thousand men, of which three thousand were wounded. The situation still massively favored the Flame Clan.

“Father, I’m told you wished to see me.”

A familiar voice shook Yuuto out of his reverie. When he looked up, silver hair wavered in front of him. He felt his expression lighten and his brow unknit.

“Yep. Once again, welcome back. I’m so happy you’ve returned,” Yuuto replied as he greeted Sigrún with a warm, genuine smile. While she had come to see him to report her return, his dealing with the retreat back into Glaðsheimr and the victory celebrations meant he hadn’t had much time to speak to her. In fact, it had been two months since he had last seen her. Furthermore, she had been considered missing in action since being washed away by a surge in the Körmt River. Yuuto wanted to make sure he took the time to properly welcome her home.

“I am glad to be back at your side, Father.”

It seemed Sigrún understood Yuuto’s intent, and she allowed a smile to creep onto her usually stoic features. The sheer gap from her usual expression made her smile seem all that more dazzling to him. Lately, she had started to express more of her emotions in her facial expressions. She was already popular among the soldiers as the Frozen Flower and the Goddess of Victory, but if they were made aware of this development, no doubt it would drive her popularity to new heights.

“Yeah, and thank you for your souvenir. It was a huge help,” Yuuto responded gratefully.

The souvenir in question had been the head of Vassarfall, one of the Five Division Commanders of the Flame Clan Army and the commander of the northern army who had so fiercely resisted the Steel Clan. Sigrún was now not only a goddess of victory to the soldiers—even Yuuto had started to regard her the same way.

“I was only fulfilling my role as Mánagarmr,” she stated earnestly.

“Just doing your job, huh? If that’s what the job entails, your successor is going to have a hell of a time filling those shoes!” Yuuto chuckled as he considered how much the next generation’s warriors would struggle to live up to Sigrún’s reputation. He knew with confidence that they wouldn’t be able to match her accomplishments. Not only that, but they’d be constantly compared to their predecessor. Yuuto wasn’t able to resist feeling sympathy for that person.

“But, well, the best souvenir you’ve brought me...” Yuuto trailed off and lightly gestured for Sigrún to come closer. In response, Sigrún knelt to one knee and tilted her head in his direction. Yuuto gently placed his hand atop her head. “...is your safe return! Well done!” He then ruffled her hair with all of his might. He knew that war was her life, and he knew he needed her on the front lines, but if he was honest, he would have preferred not to send her to the front. What had made matters worse was that this time, she had been sent on a separate assignment and had been struggling both physically and mentally before the fact.

His relief and happiness at her safe return were pronounced. However, in contrast to her usual happy expression at having her head patted by Yuuto, Sigrún’s face took on an apologetic pout.

“My apologies, but I can’t say that I’ve come back completely unharmed...” she stated sheepishly.

“Ah?! W-Were you injured somehow?!” Yuuto couldn’t help but look at her wide-eyed in surprise. He had received regular messages from Linnea via messenger pigeon, but none of Linnea’s reports had mentioned anything of that sort. The news had caught him completely by surprise.

“Yes. My right hand isn’t working as I wish.”

“That’s your dominant hand! Was it wounded?!”

“No, not a physical wound, at least. I believe it’s a side effect of spending too long in the Realm of Godspeed.”

“Ah, that...”

He had heard that the ability allowed Sigrún to move with god-like speed, but that after prolonged use, it left her with muscle cramps across her entire body.

“So the technique had its dangers,” Yuuto said with a pained expression.

In modern Japan, it was well known that human muscles were only capable of exerting about thirty percent of their full strength due to its popularity as a trope in fiction such as manga. It wasn’t because humans were predisposed to reserving their strength, but just like how professional athletes often suffered from injuries, there were limits to the amount of force that the human body could withstand. Sigrún’s Realm of Godspeed was essentially a way for her to remove the limiters that kept her from overstressing her body to assist her in life-and-death situations. It should have been obvious to him that if she used it too often, Sigrún’s body would eventually begin to break down as it was unable to withstand the damage that its extensive use was bound to cause.

Yuuto frowned apologetically and bowed his head to her. “I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. I knew that it was dangerous, but I couldn’t tell you not to use it.”

“No. If I hadn’t used it, I wouldn’t have been able to be here with you like this, Father,” Sigrún replied.

“...I see. He must have been a hell of an opponent.”

That was the greatest reason Yuuto had never been able to prohibit her from using it. It was one thing to not use it in exhibitions or sparring matches, but Sigrún regularly engaged in life-or-death fights. He was afraid that if he put restrictions on its use, Sigrún would end up dying as a result.

“He was. If anything, he was so powerful that it’s a miracle I got away with just losing the use of my right arm. He was far stronger than I am,” she explained.

“If he’s got you saying things like that, then I’m damned glad you made it back to me.” Yuuto then once again stroked her hair and placed his palm against her cheek. He needed to feel it—the warmth of her skin that proved she was still with him.

“Things are starting to get a bit difficult now...”

Yuuto deeply furrowed his brow as he lay sprawled on his bed after the end of the party. While he hadn’t mentioned it in front of Sigrún, given her extraordinary contributions to the army, her injury was one of the worst developments that could have occurred. Certainly, he would prefer not to send her to the front lines, but at the same time, there was a part of him that had looked forward to her contributions on the battlefield. Being a patriarch required balancing competing desires like those.

“Indeed... I’m told Nobunaga’s daughter Homura is twin-runed. If Rún can’t fight properly, then dealing with her will become substantially more difficult,” Felicia, sitting next to him and gently stroking his hair, said with a troubled expression.

“Yup...” Yuuto replied.

According to Hveðrungr, though Homura was still a child, she possessed superhuman physical abilities.

“I initially had an advantage thanks to her being both off guard and rather arrogant. I was somehow able to defeat her because she was still young and her technique was rough, but I don’t know if I could do so again,” he had explained.

She was strong enough to make even Hveðrungr uneasy. With Erna and Hrönn wounded and out of action, he couldn’t think of whom to send against her.

“Sometimes the greatest opportunity comes after the period of greatest danger, but the reverse is also true,” Yuuto muttered.

Bad news tended to come in bunches, and another new difficult problem had just popped up for Yuuto to deal with. Southern Glaðsheimr had been a sea of fire for a while, but because the majority of houses were made of adobe, the fire was quickly dying down. It would probably completely die out by tomorrow morning. Of course, that was well within his calculated results, but although the adobe houses wouldn’t burn, they had grown more fragile due to the high temperatures they had been exposed to. According to Kristina’s survey, most of the houses in southern Glaðsheimr had collapsed after the fire. There were many locations where rubble blocked the alleys, and on top of that, the Flame Clan Army’s bombardment had also wiped quite a few of the houses off the map. That meant that the guerrilla tactics that had been the foundation of the Steel Clan’s defensive plans were no longer viable options.

“So, how do we deal with them?” Yuuto let his mind weigh the possibilities as he gazed up at the ceiling. In terms of numbers, the odds weren’t even enough to let him engage in direct combat with the Flame Clan forces. He needed some sort of scheme to overcome their numerical advantage. However, the honest truth was that he was running out of cards to play in that regard. He had concocted a number of schemes in preparation for this battle and readied them within the city. However, the battlefield was a living creature. The vast majority of those schemes weren’t suited for the current situation and wouldn’t result in any meaningful progress toward the Steel Clan’s goals.

“I suppose we’ll start with that one. It’s perfect given that we don’t know how the enemy’s going to move,” he decided. It was the patriarch’s job to make decisions even in the worst of circumstances. After all, countless allied lives depended on his choices. It was a heavy burden—one he wanted to run away from. However, that wasn’t a choice for him. He needed to grit his teeth and bear the overwhelming pressure.

“The moment we get to our new home, I’m going to abdicate. I’ll just sit in the sun and play with cats,” Yuuto stated.

“Yes, that sounds rather nice. I’ll follow you there,” Felicia replied.

“Yep. I’m counting on you to provide your lap as a pillow,” Yuuto said cheerily.

The peacefully mundane routine of daily life... Even that felt like a distant dream at the moment. It was something he was going to reclaim at all costs, and he was willing to do anything to accomplish that goal.

“Please wait, Great Lord!”

It was right when Nobunaga was about to bring down his bare blade upon his unconscious officers. A craggy but vital voice rang out. Nobunaga held back his blade right before it cut through the unconscious men’s necks and turned his gaze toward the voice, where he saw an old man with a gloriously full white beard.

“Salk...” Nobunaga muttered.

The man was none other than Salk, a grizzled veteran that the soldiers referred to as Old Man Salk out of respect, and the last surviving member of the Five Division Commanders. Because of his experience, his intelligence, and his care and cautiousness as a general, he had been placed in command of the defense of Blíkjanda-Böl, but now that the Steel Clan had practically abandoned their western territories and the Múspell Unit had appeared in Glaðsheimr, Nobunaga had ordered him to the front lines. After all, given the Steel Clan’s current military situation, there were no reasonable threats to the Flame Clan’s capital.

“You’re late. Where had you been idling?” Nobunaga glared at the old man and said icily. The other officers gulped in fear.

“Ha hah. So harsh, My Lord. I’m afraid at this age, I can’t keep up with the younglings on horseback,” Old Man Salk replied with a casual chuckle. As he had noted himself, his body was thin from age. Though his back was bent, and at a glance he appeared a withered old man, he showed no sign of being intimidated by Nobunaga’s gaze. He was one of the Five Division Commanders. He hadn’t lived to his current age through sheer luck.

“Hrmph. I’ll set that aside for the moment. On what basis do you demand I spare them?” Nobunaga asked.

“First, rein in your anger, My Lord. At my age, I can let it pass over me, but it’s a bit much for these younglings. The poor children, they’re even struggling to breathe,” Salk explained.

At Salk’s observation, Nobunaga turned his gaze to the officers around him. All of them flinched backward in fear the moment Nobunaga looked at them. That wasn’t enough to satisfy him though.

“They’re generals in the Flame Clan. To faint at my mere anger is a sign of unforgivable weakness,” Nobunaga stated coldly.

“Your rage at the moment is far too intense to be described as ‘mere’ anger, My Lord. It feels as though I’m facing a god or a demon lord,” Salk replied.

“And yet, you seem to be dealing with it without issue.”

“I suppose I am. I’m so old I may drop dead at any moment. With that thought lurking in my mind, most things seem trivial, much like flatulence in the face of a gale.”

“Hrmph. Full of hot air as always.”

“And by that, you mean the flatulence, My Lord?”

It was a painfully thin joke, but it took quite a bit of nerve to say it in front of Nobunaga himself.

“You fool. Tch. You’ve ruined the mood.” Nobunaga clicked his tongue in annoyance and sat down where he stood.

“Fine. I’ll forgive them this time, for your sake,” he added with a frown, resting his face on his palm. Salk’s words seemed to have calmed him down to a degree. He still felt that the officers were rather worrisome given that they fainted in the face of his anger (which by his own standards wasn’t particularly intense), but with four out of the Five Division Commanders dead, they now made up the core of the Flame Clan. If he were to reduce their numbers before the decisive battle, that would be shockingly poor generalship—it was a thoroughly unwise decision, no matter the situation.

“I’m glad to hear that, My Lord. I was worried you would take my head as well,” Old Man Salk said with a laugh. In contrast to his words, he showed no concern in his mannerisms.

Nobunaga snorted with displeasure at the old man’s unwavering attitude. At the same time, however, it was precisely that unwavering confidence and nonchalance that would be vital to the Flame Clan, given that they had just suffered successive losses.

“Now, My Great Lord, I’m told you were planning a massive frontal assault. No doubt you have a plan?” Old Man Salk’s expression changed from one of relaxed nonchalance to deathly seriousness in an instant. He hadn’t been present when Nobunaga had announced that fact, but it seemed he had been listening in. It was dangerous to underestimate the old man.

“What plan could possibly be needed to pull off an all-out assault?” Nobunaga responded.

“My Great Lord...” Salk said in exasperation.

“Even without a fleshed-out plan, I have great confidence in our chances,” Nobunaga stated.

Salk furrowed his brow in skepticism. Even if he had been enraged, Nobunaga wasn’t one to start a battle without being confident of victory. He couldn’t have been bothered to explain it, but he had already coolly calculated the odds of success.

“Oh? May I ask why?” Salk asked.

“The great fire. No doubt the effects of their entrapment have been weakened. Even if they had other things prepared, the fire would have consumed it,” Nobunaga explained. “If we give them time, no doubt they’ll come up with another troublesome scheme. In that case, it’s much better for us to attack with all of our forces from the south before they can do precisely that.”

“I see. Yes, that is logical.” Old Man Salk nodded as though in agreement. Salk then turned to the other generals.

“You have no objections either, I take it?” he asked with his lips curled into a smile. The officers also nodded in unison—they too seemed to approve of Nobunaga’s decision. Salk had instantly cleared the discord that had threatened to build between Nobunaga and his generals. That was an ability he had acquired through his years of warfare.

While Nobunaga appreciated that side of Salk, he also found it irritating. With his head boiling with rage, he wanted to move as quickly as possible. All his underlings needed to do was shut up and obey his orders. He swallowed the first words that had come to mind and instead waved his arm toward the north.

“Return to your units and prepare for battle! It’s time to avenge Ran and Vassar!” he proclaimed.

“Ah, so that’s how you’re moving.” Yuuto furrowed his brow and glared at the shogi board in front of him. Rather than Hveðrungr, his usual opponent, he faced a young woman who sat across the board from him.

“Heh... You underestimated me when you agreed to play against me without rooks or bishops,” Kristina replied as she placed her hand over her mouth and chuckled elegantly. She had just recently turned fifteen. Compared to when he had first met her two years ago, her height hadn’t changed, but her curves had filled out a bit, and she now looked very much like a young woman. Her perpetually expressionless features were extremely finely sculpted, and even Yuuto, who was surrounded by stunning women, had no choice but to admit she was turning into quite the beauty. She was also the blood daughter of the current patriarch of the Claw Clan, which, combined with everything else, would have made her quite the eligible bachelorette. He’d yet to hear any rumors of anyone seeking her hand, however. Given that she was now at the right age to marry in Yggdrasil, that was rather odd. The reason for that was simple though...

“Uta, my shoulders feel a bit stiff,” Kristina stated.

“At once, mistress!” Utgarda answered dutifully.

Soon after Utgarda started, however, Kristina lashed out at her with a riding crop. A clear smacking sound could be heard as it made contact.

“Eep!” she yelped in pain.

“Too strong. Use a bit less brute strength, will you?” Kristina demanded.

“But last time you said this was...” Utgarda replied.

Smack!

“Ack!”

“Quite brave of you to talk back despite your status,” Kristina said coldly.

“M-My apologies...” Utgarda responded meekly.

The reason was clearly because of this sadistic streak in her personality. Her lips were curled into a cruel smile—she was deriving great enjoyment from her actions. Yuuto couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh at the exchange. There likely weren’t many men who had the strength to be able to both readily accept her and keep up with her.

“Now it’s too weak,” Kristina complained.

“Urk!”

The riding crop lashed out yet again. Yuuto felt a brief pang of sympathy for Utgarda as she was smacked for every little mistake, but he quickly reminded himself that Utgarda had been the tyrannical and sadistic patriarch of the Silk Clan and had done far worse to her subjects. His pity toward her quickly dissipated. Kristina’s punishments were on the harsh side, but it was a necessary part of teaching Utgarda how to properly function in society.

“More! Please punish this unworthy slave more, my mistress!” Utgarda pleaded.

It seemed to Yuuto that Utgarda was learning something else entirely. He had hoped to have her understand how it felt to be oppressed—and, in the end, learn empathy for others such that she would only take actions that she would accept in return—but it seemed things rarely went according to plan. Given that Utgarda herself seemed satisfied with the current arrangement, perhaps it was okay to leave things as they were. This was hardly the time to be concerned with trivial matters like that anyway.

“Oh, I just remembered... Have you decided on your next move yet, Father?” Kristina asked.

With that, Yuuto turned his attention back to the shogi board. He found himself in a rather difficult situation. In particular, Kristina’s defenses were ironclad, and without his rooks or bishops, Yuuto had to admit he didn’t have enough firepower to break through.

“This is totally not how a beginner plays,” Yuuto couldn’t help but mutter to himself. Kristina had adopted a tactic known as Ibisha Anaguma, which was also referred to as “The Bear-in-the-hole Static Rook.” It was a mainstream strategy in modern shogi, and it had been refined by first-class shogi players over generations, eventually turning it into an impregnable defense.

“Heh heh. You’re right, I’ve barely played this game. However, I’ve watched you and Uncle Hveðrungr play quite a bit now,” Kristina explained.

“You’ve learned this much simply from watching? You’re something else...” Yuuto replied.

She wasn’t just going through the motions of constructing the necessary defensive formations. She had been able to flexibly adapt to Yuuto’s counters as she proceeded to build up her defenses. This was what was annoying about people like Hveðrungr and Kristina—those blessed with naturally heightened intelligence and intuition. They were able to quickly leapfrog any efforts that average people could put into the game.

“Without a handicap, you’re still far better at this game than I am, Father,” Kristina stated.

“I would hope so. I’d be a complete joke if I lost to a beginner in an even match,” Yuuto replied.

“Of course, I had already calculated that you would give me a handicap, Father. Your shogi style is less about winning at all costs and more about enjoying the game. Which was the opening I had chosen to exploit.”

“I see... So you made sure you had your bases covered before challenging me.”

“Yes. Something I learned from none other than you, Father,” Kristina said nonchalantly. Making thorough preparations and planning for every contingency before battle and securing victory before the battle even began—that was exactly how Yuuto the patriarch fought his wars.

“Entertaining at least. It makes it all the more interesting!” Yuuto felt his competitive streak flare up, and he smiled with a predatory gleam in his eye. Turning the flow of this game and winning would, no doubt, be quite satisfying. That was particularly true given Kristina’s usual casual arrogance. Just as Yuuto was about to make the move that would turn the tide of the game—the radio transceiver next to them came alive with a burst of static.

“This is Shadow Six. The main body of the Flame Clan Army is abuzz with activity. I believe they’re preparing for an assault, over.”

Kristina placed the radio to her ear and responded. “Understood. Continue to observe the enemy. Over.” The sadistic smile had faded from her lips.

“Father...”

“Yeah, I heard,” Yuuto replied, nodding. He had harbored the faint hope that the Flame Clan might temporarily withdraw to regroup and reformulate their strategy after two straight defeats, but it seemed Nobunaga had other ideas. The radio crackled with more static. Additional reports came in almost simultaneously.

“This is Shadow Nine. The Flame Clan Army in the west has started to move. Over.”

“This is Shadow Three. The Flame Clan Army in the east has started moving southward. Over.”

“So, they’re moving all of their forces in, it would seem... I guess Nobunaga is finally directing all of the Flame Clan’s military power toward crushing us.” With that, Yuuto swallowed a lump that he felt in his throat. Just a few minutes earlier, Kristina had mentioned the lessons she had learned from Yuuto about properly preparing and setting up the battlefield for victory before conflict even began. Yuuto himself had learned to do that from Nobunaga, though. Realizing that Nobunaga was now preparing for an all-out assault, it was safe to assume that he was doing so with a firm picture of how he would achieve that victory. This was going to be the most difficult battle yet.

“So, I’m told the Flame Clan Army’s been busy making their preparations. We need to make sure we’re ready for them, no matter when they choose to move.”

“Yes, leave it to me, Your Majesty,” Fagrahvél answered crisply and stood at attention as the orders came over the radio. She knew that Yuuto wasn’t able to see her, but given that he was her chalice father and the þjóðann, her body reflexively responded with strict formality. It was very much in character given her serious personality.

“No maaaatter hooow many tiiimes I seeee it in aaction, these radiooos send a shiver up my spiiine,” Bára—Fagrahvél’s most trusted adviser and strategist—standing beside her, responded and nodded, gazing admiringly at the radio all the while. Fagrahvél understood precisely what she felt. Currently, Fagrahvél was positioned in front of the front gate of Valaskjálf Palace. It was nearly two hours away from the palace’s Hliðskjálf that served as Yuuto’s headquarters, but she was able to hear his orders in real time. Not only that, but they were also able to use the same devices to acquire and communicate information about the Flame Clan Army instantaneously, even though the enemy was still many miles away. If they had needed to communicate this information using runners, it would have taken far longer to get the messages across. At best, they would have learned of these developments right before the Flame clan had made it close enough to engage. Yuuto himself stated that he came from the land beyond the heavens, and these devices were certainly worthy of being called divine instruments.

“It’s an extremely powerful device, but we can’t let our guard down. Although we possess such objects, we’re still in a rather disadvantageous position,” Fagrahvél stated as she gripped her hand tightly into a fist, her brow furrowed. In the previous Battle of Glaðsheimr, Nobunaga had managed to defeat Yuuto’s forces. This was despite the fact that Yuuto had been able to coordinate several dozen units almost simultaneously—a power that Nobunaga lacked. When Fagrahvél had faced Yuuto, she had outnumbered him three to one, prepared the most capable generals from each army, extensively drilled their forces, turned the entire army into berserkers using her rune Gjallarhorn, and acted according to tactics prepared by Bára. Despite all that, he had destroyed her practically perfectly prepared army with little struggle. Since then, while the Steel Clan had won some minor victories against the Flame Clan Army, the Steel Clan had continually been on the defensive. Nobunaga’s current actions made no sense.

“Sooo, the most frightening ooone is Odaaa Nobunaaagaa?” Bára asked.

Fagrahvél nodded in response. While the words weren’t so languid when Yuuto had spoken them, Bára had just repeated something Yuuto had mentioned countless times.

“Nobunaga is so formidable that even Father describes him in such terms. There’s no such thing as being too careful against an enemy like him.” With that, Fagrahvél thinned her lips into a line and glared in the direction of the approaching forces. There was still no sight of them yet, nor could they hear anything that would suggest they were moving in. Even so, she still felt it clearly—a powerful, deadly aura that seemed to scorch her skin as it drew nearer. “Seems they’re here,” Fagrahvél stated.

“Yooou never faaaail to amaze meee. I still caaan’t pick up a thiiing,” Bára replied in awe.

“You’re as slow as ever on this front. You focus too much on what your head tells you,” Fagrahvél explained.

Bára pouted in displeasure. Fagrahvél felt a surge of triumph, though she managed not to let it show on her face. She was still somewhat annoyed about the fact that Bára had burst out laughing when Yuuto had told Fagrahvél she took everything too seriously. This was Fagrahvél’s way of getting a small measure of revenge.

“Ah, I get it. This is quite nice.” Fagrahvél nodded as though something had finally made sense to her.

“Hmm? Whaaat are you taaalking about?” Bára asked.

“To stay a bit playful, even in a situation like this,” Fagrahvél explained.

There was still a part of her that felt it was inappropriate, but she had tried it because Yuuto had told her that sort of confidence was necessary for a commander. It felt right. The most important thing was that it let her laugh even in the face of danger. It helped drain just enough tension from her shoulders. Her nerves were no longer so taut that they risked snapping, and she felt her perspective widen. She was able to see things she had missed before. She saw the faces of her children, her grandchildren, and the fact that they seemed to have let down their guard.

“The enemy is here! Get your acts together! Don’t let your guard down despite our recent victories! We’re still the ones who are outnumbered! Lose sight of our situation and they’ll quickly overrun our positions!” Fagrahvél shouted at the top of her lungs, her throat aching from the exertion. That had been close. A few days ago, her focus would have entirely been on the enemy, and those thoughts would never have occurred to her.

Bára chuckled approvingly. It seemed that up until now, Bára had been the one who had watched for such developments and dealt with them when Fagrahvél had missed them. They had been partners for a long time now. There were occasions when Fagrahvél found Bára irritating given her casual attitude toward matters of hierarchy, but in times of crisis, there was no one else she wanted more by her side.

“So, shall we set off? Time to show those Flame Clan soldiers what Fagrahvél, patriarch of the Sword Clan, and her strategist, Bára, can do!” Fagrahvél exclaimed.

“Yees ma’aaam,” Bára replied.

Her response was so languid and relaxed that Fagrahvél felt her newfound enthusiasm drain from her in an instant. But she was used to that. If anything, this was what everyday life was like, it was reassuring. Shortly after, her radio crackled to life.

“This is Shadow Two. The Flame Clan Army is in range of the arquebuses.”

“Brilliant news. Fire!” Fagrahvél issued the order, and a heartbeat later, the thunderous roar of arquebuses rang out from the city in front of her.

“Striking first with the tanegashimas they stole from us. The damned nerve of those thieves,” Nobunaga sourly spat and crossed his arms. Nobunaga had prepared a thousand arquebuses for this battle, but the Steel Clan’s arson had consumed the whole lot of them. Given their nature, the arquebusier companies had been positioned at the very front of the army, and that had cost him dearly. Meanwhile, the tanegashimas the Steel Clan were using had been looted from the Flame Clan capital of Blíkjanda-Böl. He found the entire situation greatly frustrating.

“Hah. To take from the enemy and incorporate into your own forces. That is the fundamental rule of an age of war, is it not?” Old Man Salk observed casually as he stroked his long beard. He had originally been recalled to serve as a division commander, but with Ran’s death, Nobunaga had made Salk his Second.

Nobunaga’s words were often difficult for the average man to understand. On top of that, his intensity, while useful as a motivator, was also capable of creating unnecessary friction and strife. Because of that, he needed someone who was unafraid of him, could understand what he said, could translate his words so that others could understand, and could serve as the lubricant that would keep the army operating smoothly.

While it was unfortunate that Salk couldn’t be sent to lead a separate, independent unit, with Ran’s death, this old man was now the only person capable of filling Ran’s shoes even among the ranks of the skilled generals found in the Flame Clan.

“Besides...” Old Man Salk’s eyes glinted with mischief. “We, too, are cheeky thieves, are we not?”

Nobunaga curled his lips into a grin and nodded in agreement. It was true that the Steel Clan had taken the guns from them, but the Flame Clan had, in turn, taken objects from the Steel Clan as well.

“It seems our new equipment is working as expected,” Salk said gleefully.

The fact that the front line showed no signs of being thrown off their march in spite of receiving a full volley of gunfire was indisputable evidence of that fact. If anything, Nobunaga felt a surge in confidence and morale.

“Very well! Wheelbarrow companies, charge!” Nobunaga yelled.

A moment after Nobunaga gave the order, a roar erupted from the front line. The Steel Clan had left a large number of wheelbarrows when retreating from Gjallarbrú Fortress after the recent siege. He had initially dismissed them as mere carts, but Ran’s reports had shown they were substantially better than carts, and Nobunaga himself had been shocked by how well they performed. They were far more mobile than the carts the Flame Clan had been using until that point. Their ability to accelerate from a dead stop and their maneuverability were worthy of particular note. Furthermore, Nobunaga knew that the Steel Clan had been using wagons as defensive walls in their fighting.

Another staccato burst of explosions rang out from the enemy ranks. But like the previous volley, there were no screams or groans of pain from his own lines.

“Row-man conkreet, was it? Quite tough,” Nobunaga remarked.

It was a material that had sustained bombardment from the new province destroyers he had hoped would turn the tide of battle in his favor. Each of the wheelbarrows was loaded to the limit with the Roman concrete from the ruins of Gjallarbrú Fortress. Even the tanegashimas that had the power to punch straight through both sides of iron breastplates weren’t able to pierce the piles of rubble upon the wheelbarrows.

“Good. Continue the charge!” he ordered.

With the wheelbarrow companies at their vanguard, the Flame Clan Army continued to close the distance.

Meanwhile at the Steel Clan headquarters...

“A wagon wall charge, huh? He really is full of surprises.”

Yuuto furrowed his brow sourly as he processed the reports that had come over the radio. It was a tactic that he had used on Vassarfall’s northern division two days ago, though he doubted Nobunaga had chosen to emulate the tactic based on reports from Vassarfall’s surviving soldiers. Two days wasn’t enough time to come up with an effective defense against gunfire. Nobunaga had to have been preparing his own version of the wagon wall before learning of the battle from two days ago.

“Still, I’d have been dead a long time ago if my own tactics could be used to defeat me,” Yuuto stated. He had brought a large number of things into Yggdrasil. He had made proper preparations in case they were stolen by his opponents. With that in mind, he continued issuing orders. “Fagrahvél! Pull the arquebusiers back and move the archers to the front!”

“Yes, Your Majesty!” Fagrahvél replied. Her reputation as a great general in Yggdrasil was well-earned. Yuuto’s orders were enough for her to understand precisely what he wanted from her. Soon after, volleys of arrows came flying out from the Steel Clan ranks. They carved an arc through the air and then began falling onto the Flame Clan formation like torrential rain.

“Guh!”

“Gack!”

He heard the screams of the Flame Clan soldiers come over the radio. It seemed switching to bows had the effect he had wanted. While the wagon walls were extremely effective in stopping ground-based attacks, they provided no defense against attacks from the air.

“The Flame Clan forces aren’t slowing! They’re continuing to charge at us without losing any momentum!”

“Well, things would be too easy if this were all it took to beat them.”

Yuuto let out a dry laugh at the scout’s report. The Flame Clan Army was filled with professional soldiers that had been trained over the last decade as dedicated soldiers—a contrast to the armies typically filled using peasant levies that the clans of Yggdrasil often leveraged. While the Flame Clan had conducted a massive conscription effort before this campaign and their ranks had swelled with amateurs, they were likely maintaining their morale and cohesion by putting professional soldiers at the center of their ranks. They were a hard enemy to fight.

“No, wait...” Yuuto furrowed his brow in suspicion as something felt off to him. Wagon walls were technically somewhat capable of defending a force from aerial attacks. The most basic defensive uses of wagon walls relied upon using guns that significantly outranged bows to keep enemies at a distance. Guns were most effective as a defensive weapon, but in the Warring States Period, they had also been used offensively as an opening volley to intimidate the enemy before a charge. The fact the Flame Clan Army hadn’t fired such a volley meant...

“Good news! I can’t be certain of it, but the Flame Clan likely has no guns or cannons!” Yuuto exclaimed.

“Truly?!” Fagrahvél responded in shock.

“I can’t say for certain, but yes. I’m quite sure of it,” he replied.

There was a chance Nobunaga was simply holding them back as a trap, but they were weapons that weren’t usable in a pitched melee between two armies. There was no real advantage for them to keep the weapons in reserve.

“Meaning that, currently, we have an advantage in ranged weaponry over the enemy,” Yuuto explained.

He heard sharp intakes of breath coming over the radio. This was a massive discovery. From ancient times to the Middle Ages, the weapon that slew the most enemies was not the sword or spear, but the bow and arrow. Up until this point, Yuuto had fought opponents such as Steinþórr and Fagrahvél, with her Gjallarhorn—ones that nullified the advantage of arrow volleys—but weaponry that had substantial range advantages over the enemy should have been enough to turn the tide of battle in their own right.

Historically, during the Hundred Years’ War between England and France, the English longbow had been the ultimate weapon, allowing vastly outnumbered English armies to inflict one-sided defeats on French forces. There were even examples such as Crécy, Poitiers, and Agincourt where the French had thousands of dead versus only a few hundred casualties on the English side. Not only did the Steel Clan have the advantage of guns, but their bows had substantially greater range than the Flame Clan’s did. He needed to use that to his advantage.

“Right then. Fagrahvél! Slowly back away while firing arrows into the enemy ranks! Do whatever you can to maintain your distance from the enemy! Don’t let them get close!” Yuuto ordered.

“My gasp Great Lord! The enemy’s arrow fire gasp is so intense that our forces can’t approach them. A-At this rate, we’ll only continue gasp to lose soldiers to their arrows.”

Nobunaga nodded shortly as the breathless messenger relayed his report to him. However, the fact that his hands were balled tightly into fists belied his intense anger at the situation.

“Hrmph. I see he’s at least developed counters to his own tactics,” Nobunaga muttered. The Steel Clan soldiers had immediately switched to bows the moment it was clear that guns wouldn’t work. They must have already had a contingency plan for if his forces had adopted the wagon wall...

“This volume of arrows was unexpected,” he continued. Ordinarily, bows were a weapon that required a great deal of training until the wielders were proficient in their use. As such, it was usually difficult to gather a large number of archers.

“I’m told the Steel Clan utilizes a weapon called an arbalest, yes? They don’t have the fire rate of standard bows, but I hear they still have a great deal of power and range even in the hands of an amateur,” Salk stated.

“Oh, yes, that’s quite true,” Nobunaga responded as he scratched at his scalp with a bitter expression. The fact of the matter was that Nobunaga had little knowledge about arbalests. That was because the arbalest—also known as the crossbow—had never evolved in the same way in Japan, despite being widely used across the world, due to a combination of environmental and material factors. By Nobunaga’s time in the Warring States Period, their use had practically died out, and no Japanese army equipped their men with them.

His spies had acquired information about the Steel Clan’s arbalests, but up until this point, he had simply dismissed them as an inferior version of an arquebus. In fact, Nobunaga’s understanding of arbalests was correct. Both arbalests and arquebuses shared one important common trait: relatively unskilled users could outrange and outdamage skilled archers in a short amount of time, and in almost all aspects, the arquebus was superior in performance to the arbalest.

To Nobunaga, who already had a solid understanding of arquebuses and had started mass production of them, arbalests had appeared to be an irrelevant and obsolete weapon. But there was one area where arbalests were far superior to arquebuses—the ease of procuring ammunition. For arquebuses, the black powder that was necessary to fire its lead ammunition was much harder to procure than the guns themselves.

“I’d dismissed them as a half-baked weapon that was inferior to tanegashimas in range and power, and to bows as far as their rate of fire was concerned, but viewed from a different perspective, they’re easier to wield and have superior range to bows while being easier to secure in large quantities than tanegashimas,” Nobunaga explained.

That meant that they were a weapon that offered an advantage in the most important facet of war: numbers. He had heard they had limitations in terms of rate of fire, but the Steel Clan had probably increased their rate of fire by implementing dedicated loaders, as Nobunaga had done for his tanegashimas. Given the overwhelming volume of arrow fire, the Flame Clan forces, stripped of their guns, were unable to close the distance, and at this rate, he would simply continue to waste his own men for little gain.

“Quite the challenge. Then I suppose we must use our trump card as well. Homura! Take the Akazonae and charge in!” he exclaimed authoritatively.

Homura let out an odd note of surprise, evidently caught completely off guard by Nobunaga’s order. Had it been any other general, it would have triggered an enraged reaction from Nobunaga. But, of course, Nobunaga was extremely sweet to his own children. He simply smiled and smacked her on the back.

“Yep. It’s your chance to make up for your past failure. Go rampage to your heart’s content!” Nobunaga proclaimed.

“Okay!” Homura nodded with a bright smile and dashed off toward the Steel Clan’s ranks. She ran off at a speed that outpaced even the fastest of cavalry, and they lost sight of her almost immediately. One would expect nothing less from a twin-runed Einherjar.

“Are you sure? It’s quite a dangerous assignment,” Old Man Salk asked with a furrowed brow.

While she hadn’t been named Second, it was tacitly acknowledged within the Flame Clan that Homura would be the next patriarch. She was not only extremely capable as a warrior, but she also had the intelligence and the character to be a ruler. The Flame Clan couldn’t afford to lose her, and Old Man Salk’s concern was understandable, but Nobunaga confidently laughed off the elder’s concern, as though he had not the slightest doubt about her safety.

“Ba ha ha! She’s the child I’ve chosen to succeed me. She won’t die so easily,” he exclaimed proudly.

“Hm? What’s that?!” Peering through her binoculars, Fagrahvél furrowed her brow at the sight ahead. Suddenly, the wagon walls at the front of the Flame Clan formation had divided, and roughly a hundred cavalry troopers began charging toward the Steel Clan. She knew that Nobunaga wasn’t simply going to sit idly by and let her cut down his forces with arrows, but this caught even the tactically astute Fagrahvél by surprise. This seemed, to her, like nothing more than a desperate and useless gamble.

“What are they trying to do?!” she yelled in confusion.

Certainly, cavalry were capable of much more powerful charges than infantry given their vastly greater speed and size, and they were a formidable sight for any infantry facing them. However, they were useless against the phalanx, the standard formation used by the Steel Clan. A reckless charge like this would only result in the cavalry being impaled on a wall of spears and leaving behind more bodies. Nobunaga, who employed pike formations that were similar to phalanxes, knew that better than anyone.

“It’s best to assume there’s something behind their attack. All units, focus on the cavalry!” Fagrahvél ordered.

There was no need to let them pull off whatever they had planned. At Fagrahvél’s orders, the Steel Clan rained arrows down upon the Flame Clan cavalry.

“What?!”

Most had missed the target.

“Tch! Again! Don’t let them close!”

Fagrahvél once again issued the order to fire, but the arrows once again completely missed the mark. That was because the enemy cavalry had accelerated the moment the arbalests were about to be fired. While amateurs could be taught to use an arbalest in a short amount of time, it was also true that they were rarely given enough training on the weapon. Though they might be perfectly capable of massed attacks against a large army, they hadn’t learned how to read a rapidly moving enemy and aim accordingly. As the arbalests struggled to hit the enemy, the cavalry had rapidly closed the distance.

“I know they’re cavalry, but they’re moving far too quickly!”

“They’re aaall amaaazingly skilled. Suppooooose they’re the Flaaame Claaan’s equivaleeent of theeee Múspells.”

As Fagrahvél let out an agitated shout, Bára calmly evaluated the approaching enemy. Bára was right—even at this distance, it was easy to see their skill at horsemanship from how easily they rode upon their mounts. They were clearly extremely well-trained.

“Tch! Phalanx companies! Get ready! Impale them...” Fagrahvél stopped midsentence as her eyes caught something in the distance. The Flame Clan cavalry all began to spin a rope that was wrapped around an object at their side using just their wrists. Slings. It was a primitive ranged throwing weapon that had been developed somewhere between 12000 BCE and 8000 BCE that consisted of a rope with a wide center. They were powerful, but if all they were throwing were rocks, the ranks of the Steel Clan army, clad in iron armor, had nothing to worry about from a mere hundred or so slings launched in their direction. But if they carried something other than rocks—

“Message to the front li—!”

Before Fagrahvél could get off her warning, the shattering din of explosions cut her off in midsentence.

“As I feared. Tetsuhau!” Fagrahvél’s expression twisted in frustration. Tetsuhau were a relatively easy weapon to make so long as there was black powder available. There was nothing surprising about the Flame Clan having their own. The well-armored nature of the phalangites worked to their disadvantage, and their sheer weight meant quite a number were caught in the resulting explosions. Just as the tetsuhau disrupted the formations, a triumphant roar filled the air. The Flame Clan cavalry charged into the disordered ranks of Steel Clan infantry. With their formation disrupted, the infantry units were easily cut down.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the entirety of the Flame Clan’s assault. A flood of infantry followed, letting out a challenging shout, the ground rumbling beneath their feet as they charged in. They had closed the distance while the Steel Clan had been preoccupied with the cavalry. The arbalest companies assigned to either flank had noticed their approach and unleashed a large barrage of arrows before they were ordered to fire. Countless enemy infantry collapsed in mid-charge as they were torn to shreds by the rain of arrows. However...

“Raaaah! Follow Lady Homura!” a Flame Clan soldier screamed.

“Don’t waste this opportunity Lady Homura created!” another yelled.

The Flame Clan soldiers continued to pour in, unfazed by the Steel Clan’s arrows. The charge by the patriarch’s own daughter had evidently supercharged the enemy’s morale. The two armies clashed, devolving into a massive melee.