Shinwa Densetsu no Eiyuu no Isekaitan - Volume 1 - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Awakening

“I hope he comes to soon,” Liz murmured as she cast another worried glance at Hiro’s bed. Though he appeared to be sleeping peacefully, he hadn’t once opened his eyes since falling unconscious. A doctor had looked him over but failed to find any clear reason for his prolonged slumber.

“Not long now, I’ll wager. He’ll be up and about before you know it.” Tris stroked his goatee as he watched Liz. “You ought to get some sleep yourself, Your Highness. It wouldn’t do to be passed out when the whelp finally wakes.”

“I suppose.” Liz nodded. She looked outside the window, where a boundless night sky bathed the town below in starlight. This was Natur, Baum’s first and only city. Built in a shallow basin, the town gently curved down on all sides to meet the austere white oblong of its central temple: Frieden, the Spirit King’s sanctum. It was there that the sixth princess and her retainers had been received.

“I’ll come by again tomorrow to wake him up.” Liz brushed Hiro’s cheek one last time, then turned to leave. As the door clicked shut, silence rolled in on the night air, seeking to fill the room in her absence...and failing. A low groan emitted from between Hiro’s sleeping lips to keep it at bay. His face twisted in pain.

He was dreaming.

It began with a start. Suddenly, he found himself on a battlefield glutted with corpses—a mind-numbing quantity of dead stretching as far as the eye could see, the hate-steeped progeny of two great armies. Blood seeped into the earth to stain it scarlet. The heavens wept fine rain.

The boy was in the center of the melee. His black garb fluttered in the wind and his arm moved to match it, sending his silver sword slicing through the air—an easy motion, like waving away a fly. Five heads flew. His attention moved on and he sprinted away.

It was the high commander’s head he wanted. That was the most efficient way to end the fighting and the surest path to victory. Still, the enemy would not relinquish it easily. A thousand elite soldiers stood in his way, their front lines packed as dense as a solid wall. To any ordinary man, the high commander would have seemed impossibly far away, but he slipped through their ranks unhindered, lopping off heads as he ran.

Whether short or long, all paths reach their end in time.

What must the high commander have thought to see the boy approach?

“Impossible! How did you break through?!” he blustered, but received only silence for an answer. He looked at the boy’s bloodstained face and swallowed hard. The bottomless depths of those jet black eyes seemed to swallow his very soul.

“Those eyes, like black glass... I know you, boy.” His voice trembled, perhaps in anticipation, perhaps in fear. This was the one they whispered of throughout the surrounding nations: a soldier in service to a once-ruined nation now rising with unstoppable force, a man in whose eyes all of creation bared its secrets. Regalo, they called him. A gift from the Spirit King.

“And here I’d taken the rumors for mindless prattle! So that’s your Uranos, eh?” The high commander stepped forward, readying his colossal greataxe. “It’ll make a fine trophy when I rip it from your corpse!” He raised a burly hand. Soldiers rushed in to surround the boy on all sides.

“You’ve got balls to come alone, I’ll give you that. A pity you weren’t blessed with more brains.” Uranus or no, he was only one man. How dangerous could he be? “I’ll make you squirm before I let you di—”

The high commander’s head toppled from his shoulders to smack into the mud. The surrounding soldiers looked on, dumbfounded. Nobody but the twinblack boy had yet processed what had happened.

With a graceful bound, he launched into a deadly dance. Metal gleamed dully as a few soldiers regained their wits and stabbed at him with their spears, but the weapons only passed harmlessly before his eyes. More spears followed, seeking his life. He leaped high to avoid them, lopping off heads as he went. Every tender stroke of his gleaming blade sent more falling, like overripe fruit shaken from the tree.

A ripple of fear spread through the enemy ranks. All this had been the work of a moment. Such feats were beyond the reach of men. This boy encroached on the realm of the monstrous.

Raindrops burst on his silver sword as it clove a man in two, armor and all. Soldier after soldier fell, powerless to repel his onslaught, their bodies splashing limply to the ground to lie half-submerged in muddy puddles. Jets of blood mixed with the falling rain, shrouding the battlefield in an overpowering stench.

“Y-You— Agh!”

He didn’t even give them time to cry out. Before long, he stood alone among mountains of corpses.

Cut the head from the beast and the body dies. The boy’s allies swept in to rout the leaderless army as though crushing ants. Cheers and battle cries filled the plain as they pursued their fleeing foes.

The boy left them to their slaughter and returned to the main encampment.

“Mars!” came a cry. There was no telling who first uttered it, but more and more voices took it up until it became an air-shaking cheer.

“Mars! Mars! Mars! Mars!”

Thousands of soldiers chanted his name, their voices reverberating to his core. The very ground shook with their acclaim.

With every step he took, the sea of men parted before him. The royal road, they called it. Two long ranks formed on either side of him, between which he strode with his head held high.

“Mars! Mars! Mars! Mars!”

As he walked on, a young man appeared to block his path. The youth raised his hand, and suddenly there was silence. He approached the boy, his brow furrowed with anger.

“What is this I hear of my strategist fighting on the front line?”

“I had to do something to break the stalemate,” the boy protested. “We’re spread too thin across too many fronts. Once we’re done here, we’ll need to head west— Ouch!” A finger prodded him in the forehead, cutting him short.

The young man’s lips curled into an impish grin. “The next time the urge takes you to strike out on your own, tell me. We shall lead the van together, and our foes shall cower before us.”

“Then who would command the army? You’re better placed here, taking it easy in the back.”

“You would condemn me to the dullest of fates, my friend. Still, what’s done is done. There’s no sense in lamenting it.” The young man clapped the boy on both shoulders. “I’m glad to find you safe, Schwartz. I swear I lost a hundred years of my life when I heard you’d taken to the field yourself. Fortunately, I regained those years when word reached me of your triumph.”

“Please, Artheus. Don’t be so dramatic.” Schwartz thought for a moment. “Oh, that’s right. I brought back the commander’s head. What do you want to do with it?” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. An infantryman stood behind him, carrying a white box.

“I still recall how you threw up at the sight of your first corpse. To think the day would arrive when you would come before me bearing heads... Men truly can grow used to anything.”

Schwartz gave a small laugh. “I’m still not used to it. Not the killing, not the death, none of it. But if I let that get to me, it’ll be my head that rolls.”

“Quite so.” Artheus nodded in approval and turned to the soldier carrying the box. “No need to ascertain its veracity. Return him to his homeland and ensure he’s well cared for. Our enemy he may have been, but we are no better than beasts if we neglect our respect for the dead.”

“At once, Your Majesty!” The soldier bowed deep.

“Now, come! Raise a glass with me, brother!” Artheus draped an arm over Schwartz’s shoulders. “We must tell the Spirit King of our glorious victory.”

“I’m still underage,” Schwartz replied. “I can’t drink.”

“Worry not! I’ve had freshly squeezed grape juice specially prepared!”

“You think of everything, don’t you?” Schwartz smiled ruefully at the young man at his side. His comrade in arms. He really did never change.

Ah...I see now. This must be a dream. You couldn’t be here otherwise.

Just a dream. A fond recollection of a long-lost memory. A chance convergence of time and space where his path crossed once more with those who were gone. The passage of time could never dull the brilliance of this moment...but all dreams must come to an end.

“Come on, Hiro, wake up. What’s taking you so long?”

A tearful voice reached his ears. Hiro forced his eyelids open to find a beautiful girl with crimson hair sitting in front of him.

“Liz?” he whispered as he pushed himself upright.

Liz’s eyes widened with joy. She flung her arms around him. “Oh, thank goodness! You’re back!” she cried. “I thought you might never wake up!”

As she continued to gush, Hiro looked absentmindedly around the room. There was a mustiness to the air, as though it hadn’t been used for a long time, but it had still been maintained: someone had kept the old writing desk by the window neatly arranged, and while the books on the nearby bookcase had grown yellow with age, they were clean of dust. Two flags stood by the windowsill, one bearing a set of scales on a white field, the other a dragon clutching a silver sword on a black field. Hiro’s bed lay by the wall, next to the door.

Hiro tried to ask where they were, but Liz began mothering him before he could speak. “You don’t hurt anywhere, do you?” she asked.

“I... No, not particularly. Anyway, where are we?”

“Oh, right! So, after you passed out, we took you down the mountain as fast as we could...”

Liz recounted her story. After he had lost consciousness, she and the soldiers had taken him to a nearby town for treatment, but they had alerted Baum to their presence in the process. Soon enough, they found themselves surrounded by a company of knights, but as they braced themselves to be taken captive, quite the opposite had happened.

“This is a poor place of limited means,” the captain had said, “but Her Grace the archpriestess invites you to accompany us to Frieden, where you might be better accommodated.”

In place of a king, Baum was ruled by an archpriestess who acted as stewardess of the nation. Out of consideration for Hiro and their wounded, Liz had deigned to go with them—and the rest, she concluded, was history.

“Now, come on, let’s get breakfast!” she said, tugging Hiro’s arm. “You must be starving!”

Hiro smiled awkwardly, but nodded. “I guess, yeah. I could do with somethi— Ah!” He tried to stand, but his legs failed to take his weight. Liz caught him and held him steady.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“I, uh...I think so,” he said. “I guess I’ve only just woken up. I should have given myself a minute.”

“Tell me if you’re struggling, okay? We still need to have the doctor take a proper look at you.” Liz opened the door to reveal a woman prostrating herself on the other side. She and Hiro both cried out in alarm and shied away.

“Good morning,” the woman said. “You slept well, I hope?”

She wore a white kimono in the Japanese style, with a black hakama on top. Her skin, clear and luscious as the fresh morning dew, seemed to glow as it caught the sunlight. The beauty of her face was remarkable enough, but a sensuality lurked beneath that only heightened her allure. Combined with the soothing fragrance that wafted from her skin, the effect was nigh irresistible.

“I am the archpriestess, stewardess of Baum,” she said. As she bowed her head, her hair fell about her shoulders in a waterfall of midnight blue. With her ears now bared, Hiro could see that they were too long and tapered to belong to a human.

She noticed him staring. “Do my ears interest you?” she asked.

“I, um...no, I...” he stammered. “I just thought they were an odd shape.”

She gave a little laugh. “So they must appear, to a human.” Fortunately, she didn’t seem offended. She touched a finger to them, smiling.

Liz jabbed an elbow into Hiro’s ribs. When he turned, she brought her mouth to his ear. “She’s an álf,” she whispered. “They’re known for their long lives, but they’re all incredibly beautiful too.”

“Huh. I did think she seemed...otherworldly, somehow.”

Though she’s no prettier than you, he wanted to say...as though he could be that smooth in his wildest dreams. The archpriestess watched as they whispered to each other, her kindly smile never dropping.

“Oh, and they’re really smart!” Liz continued. “My eldest brother actually has an álf among his advisors, though he’s—”

“Your Highness!” a gruff voice interrupted. “What are you— Aha! You again, whelp! I ought to have known!”

Hiro’s eyes went wide. “Huh? But I haven’t done anything!”

Tris and all his bearish bulk advanced on him, face twisted in rage, but screeched to a halt as the archpriestess stepped between them.

“Master Tris, I must ask that you remain quiet inside the Spirit King’s sanctum,” she said, gently but firmly.

Tris harrumphed, but relented. “Apologies, your grace,” he said, falling to one knee.

“Thank you for understanding.” She turned back to Hiro and Liz and stepped to the side, clearing the way. “Allow me to show you to breakfast. There, you may talk to your hearts’ content.”

“Uh, right. Please,” said Hiro.

“Thank you!” exclaimed Liz. “I’m absolutely famished!”

The three of them filed out, the archpriestess in the lead with Hiro and Liz in tow. “That’s twice now, whelp. I’ll not forget this,” Tris muttered as they passed. Hiro shuffled ahead a little faster but otherwise ignored him.

Trying to distract himself from the naked bloodlust emanating from behind his back, he called out to the archpriestess. “Where are we going?”

“We have a dining hall in the southern quarter. Please take care to stay close. It would be easy to get lost.”

Frieden, the Spirit King’s sanctum, was broadly divided into four quarters: central, east, south, and west. The central quarter comprised the Baptismal Font, where the Spirit King was enshrined; here newborn babies were brought, as well as newcomers to Frieden. The eastern quarter served as a training ground for apprentice priestesses, and as such was barred to outsiders. The western quarter, where Hiro and Liz were staying, formed the apprentice priestesses’ lodgings, while the southern quarter was a rest area; this was where Tris and the soldiers had spent the night.

On their way to the dining hall, the archpriestess stopped and turned to Hiro. “Master Hiro...you are yet to be baptized, are you not?”

“Baptized?” Hiro asked.

“Huh? You’ve really never been baptized?” Liz sounded surprised, but it wasn’t his fault. He’d only just arrived from another world, after all.

“Not that I know of,” he said.

“In that case,” said the archpriestess, “might you accompany me to the Baptismal Font?”

“I suppose that has to come first,” said Liz. “Make a good impression on the Spirit King, won’t you?”

“Hmph,” Tris muttered from behind them. “Let him curse the whelp and be done with it.”

The archpriestess turned to Liz. “I shan’t postpone your breakfast. Please go on ahead. You know the way to the dining hall, I trust?”

“Of course,” Liz said. “I’ve been here before. I know my way around.”

“Then, with your leave, I shall escort Master Hiro.”

“By all means. Don’t worry, Hiro, it’s nothing to be scared of. It’ll be over before you know it.”

Liz continued ahead with Tris in tow. The archpriestess watched them go. Once they were out of sight, without warning, she took Hiro’s hand. “After me, if you please,” she said, then noticed his discomfort. “I cannot risk you going astray,” she explained.

“R-Right! Got it. Sorry, you just...kinda took me by surprise.” Faced with her smile and its womanly charm, Hiro’s heart felt ready to explode.

For a while, they silently wended their way through white-walled pathways. Before long, Hiro grew thoroughly disoriented. Their route twisted and turned this way and that, and he could swear they took the same passage more than once. The path ahead seemed to grow dimmer and dimmer until at last they emerged into an open space.

“We have arrived,” the archpriestess said. “Welcome to the Baptismal Font.”

“Whoa...” Hiro breathed in astonishment. The archpriestess released his hand and left him alone, but he was so spellbound that he didn’t notice.

Ahead, the passageway abruptly broke off as though severed with a blade, giving way to a lush forest. Hiro’s legs unconsciously carried him forward. The air was clear and blue like ice, and its caress felt chilly on his skin. Birdsong hung in the stillness.

Beyond the forest lay a wide clearing. In the middle, framed by a colonnade, sat a spring, its waters sparkling with light. Two colossal statues cast in bronze towered on the other side. A white orb floated between them, glowing with a sublime radiance.

As Hiro knelt to touch the water, the foliage behind him rustled. He wheeled around in alarm.

“Thank you for waiting, Master Hiro. I will now begin your baptism.”

There stood the archpriestess, clad in a shawl so sheer that the snowy white of her skin showed through its weave. Her ample breasts, with their sensual tips, were only barely hidden. Beneath lay the curve of her slender waist; farther down yet, the fork of her legs plunged into shadow. All of her was on display, pale and pure and dazzling. It would have been more modest if she had been wearing nothing.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“No, I...” Hiro fought for words. “What does this baptism involve, exactly?”

“You will receive the blessing of the Spirit King.”

“Can’t I...do that alone?”

“Yours is something of a special case.”

“Special how?”

Hiro was trying his hardest to keep his eyes on the ground, but from the rustle of footsteps on grass, he could tell she was drawing closer.

“I fear I cannot say. All I can offer you is impetus.”

He knew she had stooped by the way her voluptuous thighs dipped into view. A gentle hand settled on his shoulder, then traced up his neck to cup his cheek. Raise your head, it bid him, and he was powerless to disobey. He looked up to find her face only inches from his nose.

“I am overjoyed to find you safely returned.”

A tear trickled from her midnight eyes as her lips gently closed over his own.

＊

“Tris!” Liz cried. “Have you seen Hiro? I can’t find him anywhere!”

“Calm yourself, Your Highness,” said Tris. “A princess mustn’t be seen rushing hither and thither like some harried maid.”

“But he’s gone! The Baptismal Font was empty! What if he’s gotten lost?!”

“The boy has the archpriestess with him. He’s in no danger.”

“Well then, where is he?! Oh, I can just picture him crying his eyes out!”

Liz collapsed into her chair and buried her head in her hands. Freshly emptied plates and bowls littered the table before her. Cerberus lay at her feet, dozing contentedly.

“The boy is sixteen years of age,” said Tris, seated in the opposite chair. “He is too old for such things. Perhaps he has simply—” He cut himself off as a familiar figure came into view. “It seems he has returned, Your Highness.”

“What?” Liz swiveled around to find Hiro standing in the doorway, looking oddly fatigued. His baptism must have been taxing.

“Hiro! This way!” She waved him over. He began walking towards them, though apparently too slowly for Liz’s liking. “Oh, just get over here!” she exclaimed, before running up to him, seizing his hand, and pulling him into the next chair over.

“You look exhausted,” she said. “Was it really that tiring?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “Well, mentally, anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“Honestly, I didn’t know where to look. And there was a lot of...touching involved.”

“It did look like the old man had a lot of people to get through today,” Liz said. “That baby face of yours might have given him some funny ideas.”

Hiro paused. “Old man?”

“Yeah, you know. The old man who does the baptisms.”

“What?”

“What?”

As they frowned at each other in confusion, a shadow fell between them.

“Did you enjoy your breakfast, Lady Celia Estrella?” a female voice asked. Hiro turned around to see the archpriestess.

“Oh, it was wonderful!” Liz said. “The food here is just as good as I remember.”

“I am pleased to hear it. Do you intend to stay another night?”

Liz put a finger to her chin. “Hmm...I’m tempted, but we really ought to be going.”

“A pity. I pray you find the time to visit again someday.”

“I’ll drop by soon. I’ll need to pick up my soldiers sooner or later.”

It would be too dangerous to take their wounded with them. Anything could happen between here and their destination. If they were attacked, they would be hard-pressed to fight back with injured men to protect. The archpriestess nodded in understanding. She must have surmised as much.

“As you say. Might I prevail upon you to join her, Master Hiro? I would be glad of the opportunity to speak with you again.”

Hiro blinked, taken aback. “Me? Uh...sure. I’d be happy to.”

“Hiro?” Liz scrutinized him. “You’ve gone all red. You haven’t caught a cold, have you?”

“No, nothing like that! It’s nothing! Don’t worry about it!”

The archpriestess gave a little laugh. “Well, time is upon me, I fear. I must excuse myself.”

“Thank you,” Liz said. “I’ll never forget everything you’ve done for us.”

“To offer succor to troubled souls is the duty of all who serve the Spirit King. Should you ever find yourselves in need, I will be glad to lend what aid I may.”

“Do you mean it? Thank you so much!”

“Ah, one last thing. We have horses stabled outside. They are yours to use as you wish.” With a formal bow, the archpriestess excused herself.

Liz watched her go. Once the woman was out of sight, she sat back down and peered at Hiro. “You really are bright red, you know,” she said.

Hiro began to panic. “It’s nothing! Just your imagination! Come on, let’s get going! Time’s wasting!” He grabbed her wrist and pulled.

“I mean, if you say so...” Liz looked baffled. “What’s the sudden hurry?”

“No hurry! I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about! Let’s just go!”

From the shadows some distance away, the archpriestess watched their exchange. Once they had departed, she turned around and began to walk.

Her path took her to the northern quarter of the Spirit King’s sanctum: the Baptismal Hall, where only Baum’s reigning archpriestess was permitted to set foot. There, a sphere floated in the air, radiating a dazzling light. She stared at it awhile. Those who extolled her beauty claimed her smile never faded, but she was not smiling now.

“I fear I no longer comprehend the will I serve. To what end have you recalled the Hero King from his rest? O Spirit King, father to us all—I beseech you, heed my prayer.”

An eerie silence fell, as though she stood on the edge of the world.

“And still you do not answer,” the archpriestess sighed.

She lifted her eyes to the two great statues flanking the sphere. Anybody in Aletia would recognize the figures they depicted, for they were two of the Twelve Divines. One was a young man, fair of feature, with his sword thrust into the earth: Leon Welt Artheus von Grantz, the Lionheart, founder of the empire. The other figure stood with both arms raised, holding his sword to the heavens: Held Rey Schwartz von Grantz, the Hero King, who built what his predecessor dreamed.

“I beg you, Lord Artheus,” she whispered. “Keep Lord Schwartz safe from harm.”

＊

Liz’s company put Natur behind them and soon came to the border. Though they now numbered fewer than seventy, they still rode with enough horses that the constant thunder of hooves set the nerves on edge. Liz took her natural place at the head of the column, her crimson hair streaming behind her as she deftly guided her steed. Hiro shared her saddle, clinging onto her waist.

“Are we really there already?” he asked.

“Yep. Not far now to the Gurinda Mark.”

Tris must have overheard the exchange because he pulled his horse up beside them. “Our foreriders haven’t returned, Your Highness,” he said, knitting his brows. “There’s no telling what might await us. I say we ride for another sel, then release the horses and proceed on foot.”

“Do you think my brother might be up to something?” Liz asked.

“As likely as not. At any rate, it’ll do us no harm to be cautious.”

“All right, then. We’ll do that.” She nodded and turned back to the front.

The road between Baum and the Gurinda Mark passed through a parched wasteland for most of its span. Around a third of the Mark’s area was arid terrain, wanting for water and poor of soil, and some of those qualities bled through even to the Baum side of the border. The land was dry and dusty, dotted with small sand dunes and crumbled sandstone cliffs. No grass or trees grew there. The place was nigh on desert.

The company dismounted their horses on the edge of the wasteland and let them run free. “Proceed with caution, everyone,” Liz said. She signaled with her eyes to the soldiers and set out.

Cautiously they ventured onward, keeping to the cover of the cliffs so as to stay out of sight. If their pace held, they would reach the Gurinda Mark within half an hour.

“Still neither hide nor hair of our foreriders, Your Highness,” Tris said. “Something’s afoot, and I like it not.”

“Agreed,” said Liz. “We might well be walking into a trap.” Following his lead, she took hold of a nearby rock face and began to climb. Once on top, they would be high enough to see across the border. She noticed the concern in Hiro’s eyes and flashed him a reassuring smile. “It’ll be fine. It’s Uncle’s land,” she said, although she seemed to be trying to convince herself as much as anyone else.

Tris hauled himself up to the top of the cliff, which offered a commanding view of the road ahead. He crept forward as far as he could, keeping low. After a short while, he signaled to Liz. Evidently, he had seen something or he would have come back in person.

Liz approached the lip of the cliff warily and peered over. She almost cried out in shock, before hurriedly clapping her hands to her mouth. Only despair lay below. She rubbed her eyes, unwilling to believe what she was seeing, but when she looked again, reality was still there, cold and cruel. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes.

“How awful...”

On the point where the road crossed into the Gurinda Mark lay the mutilated corpses of her ten foreriders. Various missing parts suggested they had not died easily. Whoever had killed them had likely tortured them first.

Behind the bodies stood three thousand enemy soldiers, their heads wrapped in brown cloth and their bodies clad in leather armor that left the arms and chest exposed. Each carried a curved sword on his hip, as well as a spear and an elongated oval shield driven into the ground at their feet. The banner at their head fluttered in the harsh desert wind, depicting a tiger on a brown field.

“Those are Lichtein forces,” Tris said, grimacing.

The desert wolves of Lichtein were renowned for their brutality. The peoples they conquered faced a choice between slavery and death. Their society still retained the slave trade that had been abolished in so many other nations.

“I can see that!” Liz said. “But... But that doesn’t make sense! What are they doing here?!”

Long years under the empire’s shadow had cowed the Duchy of Lichtein into placidity. It had been decades since so much as a skirmish had broken out between the two nations. Their peace was anchored in Lichtein’s slave trade: as the Grantzian Empire had abolished slavery, it instead extracted a profit from captured civilians or unransomable enemy commanders by selling them to Lichtein. Not only did the empire—with its many warfronts—make for a reliable source of human bodies, but it was so large and powerful that an invasion would be suicidal. All conventional wisdom indicated that Lichtein should have no reason to attack them.

“There’s only one reason they’d be waiting here, Your Highness. They’re after you.” Tris cast a hawkish gaze over the army. “How they knew you’d be passing this way is a question all its own...but regardless, we’d best retreat to Baum.”

Liz shook her head. “We can’t. I won’t bring war to the archpriestess’s doorstep.”

“They’ll not invade Baum, Your Highness. They’d earn the enmity of every nation on the continent.”

“They’ve already committed an act of war. If they’re willing to invade the Grantzian Empire, do you really think they’ll hesitate to burn the Spirit King’s sanctum?”

“I...” For a moment, Tris struggled for words. “No, I suppose not.”

“We have to find a way to break through and meet up with Uncle’s forces.”

“I’d not hold out hope. If they’re here, odds are they came through Berg Fortress,” Tris said. Both Fort Alt and Berg Fortress lay on the way from their position to Lichtein. If the enemy had made it this far, there was a good chance that both had already fallen. “Besides, they can’t trespass on imperial lands for long. The Fourth will come to our aid soon enough.”

“But if they get tired of waiting for me, they’ll turn on the nearby settlements. They might even attack Baum.” Liz stared at the army below, imagining them torching towns and farms, putting the inhabitants to the sword. She clenched her fist and pounded it against the earth. “I can’t stand by and let innocent people get hurt on my account.”

“We’d have no hope against an army of that size. If you were to come to harm—”

Liz cut him off. “The royal family must always be willing to fight in the people’s defense, no matter the odds.”

Tris fell silent for a moment. “And you’re settled on this course?”

“Of course I am. I’m the sixth princess of the empire. This is my duty.”

“You always were a stubborn one, right enough. Well, the least I can do is make sure you’re not alone.”

Liz smiled. “I’ll be counting on you.”

They climbed back down to the bottom of the cliff, where their subordinates waited in the shadow of the rocks. As soon as she touched the ground, Liz straightened up and ran to Hiro, covered in dust she had forgotten to brush off.

“We’re in for heavy fighting,” she said, “so I’m sending you back to Baum.”

Hiro struggled to follow. “What?”

“We can’t afford to have you with us. It’ll be safer for everyone, you most of all.”

“I want to stay. Let me fight with you.” Hiro sounded determined. For all that, though, he had never fought a real battle. When Liz glanced down, she could see his legs trembling.

“You can’t,” Liz said, hardening her heart. “Go back the way we came. Get yourself to safety.”

For a moment, Hiro seemed about to give in, but then he steeled himself. “I helped against the gigas, didn’t I? Maybe I could...”

For a moment Liz’s eyes widened with joy but then clouded over again before settling into grim resolution. “Let me be as clear as I can,” she said. “I don’t want you with us. You’ll just be a distraction.”

Her words struck Hiro like a hammer. He swayed on the spot but then clenched his fists and stood his ground. For a while, he remained there, mouth agape, knowing he should be bursting with objections but failing to come up with anything to say, until Liz laid a tender hand on his cheek.

“It’ll be fine. We’ll meet again, I’m sure of it.” The kindness in her voice felt somehow forced, as though she didn’t quite believe her own words. “Thank you for coming with me this far.”

If she said any more, she would surely end up asking him to stay. She ran her thumb regretfully over his cheek one last time.

“It really has been fun, you know. Traveling with you. I’m sorry it has to end so soon.”

And he knew that was goodbye.

＊

“Are you certain you’ll not regret that, Your Highness?” Tris asked gently.

“I’m certain. We’re in for a grueling fight. I don’t want to drag him into it if I don’t have to.”

He had been so very eager to please. If Liz had asked, he would undoubtedly have fought for her until his last breath—and that was precisely why she couldn’t let him. She could not allow such kindness to perish on this battlefield.

“Here they come!” she shouted.

In the distance, a black shadow rose into the air. It grew in size until it filled the sky like a great stormcloud, then arced downward to fall on them in a deluge of wood and steel.

“Bodies low, shields high!” Liz commanded. The soldiers answered with a roar. Thousands of arrows rained down on them not a moment later, battering their shields like a barrage of hailstones. By the time the din abated, countless wooden shafts studded every one of the heavies’ shields.

“Shield wall! Form up!”

The heavies assembled their shields into a barrier—as wide across as six men standing abreast—and readied for the enemy charge. Liz’s company had chosen the base of a narrow canyon to make their stand, with sheer cliffs on either side. Here the terrain would compensate for their lesser numbers. Even three thousand men could not charge through solid rock; in such an enclosed space, the enemy would have to fight them on even terms.

Liz hurled a javelin into the oncoming ranks. It struck home and a soldier toppled with a gurgle, but two more leaped over his corpse to take his place.

“Archers! Loose!” she cried, swinging Lævateinn down. A volley of arrows soared over her head from the back lines. Fired from such close range, nearly all found their mark. As the enemy’s front line toppled, their bodies tangled the feet of those behind them, but the pileup did nothing to slow the cohort’s overall momentum; those farther back simply trampled over their comrades. As they drew closer, they raised an air-shaking battle cry.

“Your Highness! Stand clear!”

The heavies tensed their arms and gritted their teeth, bracing themselves for the impact. Suddenly the wind changed, whipping up a cloud of sand to swallow their ranks. A moment later, a thunderous crash resounded through the canyon, followed by the clangor of clashing metal.

Liz drove Lævateinn forward with a cry, blowing the sand cloud aside with the force of her thrust. She felt the blade bite, tore it back out, and swung it sideways. Sensing rather than seeing her targets, she struck out with a lightning series of blows. By the time the winds changed back and cleared the air again, corpses littered the ground around her.

A short distance away, Tris struck out at his foes with a spear. “You’re too far out, Your Highness!” he shouted. “Fall back!”

“Not yet! Let me take down as many as I can!”

A group of soldiers charged for Liz, jostling one another against the narrow cliff walls. They bellowed wordlessly as they approached, swinging wildly with their weapons.

“You thought you’d hit me with that?!” With a single stroke, Liz dispatched a man lunging for her. He fell to the ground, coughing up his own blood.

A growl ripped through the air, followed by a ragged scream as Cerberus tore out a second man’s throat. The wolf dove from soldier to soldier, reaping lives with fang and claw wherever she landed. Her white pelt soon grew matted with blood.

Liz pivoted on her right leg and swung diagonally down at a soldier trying to flank her. He reeled back, his arm lopped off at the elbow. Ignoring his agonized scream, she spied an enemy in the corner of her vision and ran him through, then, letting her momentum carry her around, lashed out at the man to his left and struck off his head. Finally, she finished off the man whose arm she had taken with a clean decapitation.

“This’ll keep you busy!”

A fireball erupted from Lævateinn’s blade and burst into a sea of flame. Funneled into the narrow confines of the canyon as they were, there was no arresting the Lichtein column’s momentum. A chorus of screams rose as their charge carried them straight into the wall of fire. Men burned to death by the score, filling the battlefield with the stench of scorched flesh. Liz took this chance to cut through the isolated knot of enemy soldiers that separated her from her allies. When she returned to Tris, only corpses lay in her wake.

“Your Highness! Are you hurt?!”

“I’m fine, but that wasn’t the last of them. Prepare for the next wave.”

Now that she finally had a moment to breathe, Liz’s thoughts turned to Hiro. She had not intended their parting to be so cruel. Her heart ached with regret as she remembered the hurt in his eyes. If fate saw fit to bring them together again, she resolved to offer him a true and sincere apology. Hopefully, that would be enough to earn his forgiveness...but there was no point dwelling on such things now. The battle has only just begun, she thought to herself with a rueful smile as she scratched Cerberus’s head. Once it’s over, I can worry about making things right.

“More coming!” Tris bellowed.

“Let’s bloody their noses! Archers, fill them with arrows! Heavy infantry, advance!”

The heavies charged forward beneath the archers’ supporting fire, holding their shields in front of them in an unbroken wall. Dismay spread across the enemy soldiers’ faces, but they had no way of stopping—the men behind forced them onwards. When the two sides smashed together, the heavies held, but the enemy front line went flying back into the second. Spears jabbed out through gaps in the shield wall to finish off any men lying on the ground.

Seeing they had broken the enemy line, the heavies took apart the shield wall. Liz and Tris threaded through with the light infantry. While they finished off the wounded, the second rank of heavies advanced from the rear to join them.

“That’s it! Push them back!” Liz shouted.

Little could inspire a soldier more than their commander fighting alongside them. Indeed, Liz’s men showed no hesitation in the face of their numerical disadvantage, only a burning desire to defend their mistress. Their zeal drove them forward more than their fear held them back, turning them into their enemy’s worst nightmare. Lichtein soldiers fell before them in droves.

Such fervor, however, could be a double-edged sword—especially when it blinded them to their surroundings.

“Oh no...”

Liz was first to see it. She looked up at the sky and paled. The light infantry, flush with triumph, left her behind as they continued their advance.

Tris realized something was amiss and wheeled around. “Are you hurt, Your Highness?”

“Tris! Look up!” Urgency turned Liz’s shout into a scream. “Shields up, now! Cerberus, to me!”

She pulled Cerberus close with her left arm even as she signaled to her soldiers with her right, but her efforts came too late. The light infantry stared dumbly up into the air, their wits dulled by dismay. Seconds later, enough arrows to cloud the sky thundered down on them.

The barrage fell on friend and foe alike, plunging the battlefield into chaos. Once it passed, the ground was a carpet of wooden shafts. Only small spiked humps here and there marked where bodies lay. It was hard enough to even recognize them as human, let alone tell which side they had been on. None of them moved. The light infantry had been annihilated.

“Your Highness! Are you harmed?!” Tris shouted. Several arrows protruded from his back, but he was still up and moving. They didn’t seem to have done him serious injury.

The heavies’ faces fell as they saw how the battle had turned. Tris barked orders, trying to instill some fight back into them. “Reform your ranks on the double! Secure the canyon mouth and halt their charge!” It drove the pain of his wounds from his mind as he ran to Liz’s side.

“Got a little careless there, didn’t I?” Liz grimaced as she yanked an arrow from her left arm and tossed it aside. Cerberus watched uneasily as blood oozed from the wound, but she gave the wolf’s head a reassuring scratch. Several heavy infantry rushed past to reform the shield wall on the front line.

“You’ll need that seen to,” Tris said.

“One bandage and it’ll be right as rain. Don’t worry about me. Let me count our losses.”

“Leave that to others, Your Highness. You need medical—”

“Battalion Commander!” A heavy infantryman cut in.

Already on edge due to the dire situation, Tris wheeled around with a terrible scowl. “What?!”

“It’s the enemy forces! They’re up to something!”

A vein throbbed in Tris’s forehead. “And what’s that bloody well supposed to mean?!”

“I... I mean... Well, see for yourself, sir!”

The man pointed towards the enemy army, where a surreal scene was unfolding. Around two hundred imperial soldiers sat in a line with their hands bound behind their backs. As they watched, a man stepped from the enemy ranks to the fore.

“My name is Beil Narmer Lichtein!” he roared. “And I come with a message!”

“What’s this knave up to?” Tris muttered.

The man drew his curved sword from his belt, then planted his foot on an imperial soldier’s shoulder, forcing his head low. One stroke of his wicked blade took it off. He kicked the body as blood spurted from its neck and turned, leering, to Liz.

“Hear me, sixth princess! Come quietly and these executions end! Persist in your resistance and they will continue until every last man lies headless!”

“Bastard!” Tris flushed crimson with anger. Liz only listened in silence. She seemed ready to burst into tears.

“I care not which you choose. Either way, you’ll come to me in chains. From this day forth, you’ll be my slave. But worry not, my sweet—I won’t neglect you. I’ll make you my plaything, every day and every night!”

The man set about lopping off imperial heads as disinterestedly as if he were filing paperwork. This was a show, one intended to break their spirits.

“I await your decision, Princess Celia Estrella!” he bellowed. His bloodstained sword gleamed as it caught the sun’s light.

＊＊＊

Hiro sat down on a large rock and stared at the ground. His mind swirled with frustration at his own impotence. Why had he been summoned here? Just to be a burden? All he had going for him was good eyesight—what good was that to Liz?

Why am I even here at all?

Liz had told him to flee back to Baum, but he couldn’t summon the will to walk. Though she had long vanished from sight, she still occupied his thoughts. The memory of her sad smile flashed through his mind. If only she had asked him to stay. Even if it meant facing impossible odds, he still owed her a debt he had yet to repay.

But what if we did end up having to fight? I’d probably just freeze up...

Putting himself in danger was one thing, but forcing Liz to risk her own life defending him was another. He shook his head and looked up at the sky. The sun’s harsh glare scoured the wasteland below. The wind was hot and sticky and clung unpleasantly to his skin, grating on his nerves.

So what now?

He heaved himself down from the rock and turned to gaze regretfully along the road behind him. She was down there, somewhere. Perhaps the fighting had begun already. What chance did she stand, leading fewer than a hundred men against three thousand? Then again, Liz was no ordinary girl. Even he could see that. He offered a short prayer to the Spirit King, asking him to see her safely to Margrave von Gurinda. Then it was time to go.

“Can’t stay here all day,” he said to himself. He closed his eyes for a moment, putting the past behind him once and for all. Then he made to stride away—and stopped dead.

What’s that noise? Is someone coming?

It was the footsteps he heard first, the steady drumming of dozens upon dozens of feet. Next came the voices, carried on the wind. He hid in the shelter of the rock as men dressed in leather garb emerged from a cleft in the cliffs.

“You sure we’re in the right place?” one asked.

“No doubt about it,” another replied. “This here’s the Baum side. Follow the cliffs south and we’ll take the imperials from the rear. The sixth princess won’t even know what hit her.”

“Any villages around here? I could use some fun.”

Someone scoffed. “Not now, idiot.”

“What? We’re picking a fight with the sodding empire here. If I’m not getting a slave or three out of it, what’s the point?”

A great host of soldiers came out of the shadows of the cliff. Hiro couldn’t tell how many there were, but they were clearly men of Lichtein. Every one of them rippled with muscle, their brown chests exposed to the desert air. They swaggered along the road Hiro had come down as though it was theirs to tread.

“We can torch all the villages we like once we’ve grabbed the princess. Keep that in mind and do your jobs.”

“Heh. A real princess, eh? Wonder if His Highness would mind if I took a turn with her.”

“Mind? He’d cut your idiot head off your shoulders.”

“For a taste of a royal? Sounds cheap at the price!”

As the men roared with laughter, a surge of anger seized Hiro. Before he knew it, he had jumped out from behind the rock. At first a wave of alarm ran through the soldiers, but they lowered their guard again as soon as they got a better look at him. He was just one teenage boy with knocking knees. He was no threat to them, and they knew it.

“Who’s this brat?” said one.

“Bah, just a boy,” sighed another, the one who had been cracking crude jokes. “Pity. I thought I could have myself some fun.” His shoulders slumped, but then a thought seemed to strike him. He stared at Hiro, cupping his jaw. “Still, he’s got a pretty mug on him, and there’s always some who’ll pay for a little extra down below. Reckon he’s worth taking?”

“He’ll just get in our way,” said the first, the more serious of the two. “Let’s just kill him and be done with it. If he tells Baum we’re here, we’ll all pay for it.”

He drew the curved sword from his belt, but the crude one raised an arm to stop him.

“Not so fast,” he said. “I’ll do it.”

“Fine, but be quick about it.”

“Heh! I’ll stick ‘im faster than you lot’ve ever seen. Unless anyone’s game for a wager?”

Shouts and laughter rose from the soldiers behind him. “A wager on what?!” “Just kill the boy. We need to move!” “Hurry up or His Highness’ll have your head!”

“All right, all right. I won’t be a minute.” The crude soldier seized Hiro by the shoulder. He stuck his spear into the ground, then drew out the curved sword at his side and pressed it against Hiro’s neck.

“Too scared to make a peep, eh?” he said. “Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon. With that scrawny neck of yours, you won’t feel a thing.” He drew his sword arm back for a wider swing, meaning to cut through Hiro’s neck in one stroke.

Hiro began to tremble. The soldier’s grin deepened. Clearly the man was expecting him to scream, but only a whisper escaped his lips.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry, kid. Too late for that.” The man gave Hiro one final reassuring pat on the shoulder, then swung with all his strength.

The blow never came. Confusion spread across the man’s face as he turned to gape at his arm—or rather, at where his arm used to be. Everything past his shoulder was missing.

“Eh? How did...? Eyaaaaaagh!”

He pressed his hand to the stump, trying to stem the flow, but it was no use. Blood poured through the gaps in his fingers. He fell to the ground and rolled about, screaming in agony. A dark figure looked down on him with ice-cold eyes: the very boy he had meant to slay.

The man’s severed arm dangled from Hiro’s grip. Blood dripped from its torn root to seep into the soil.

“Ah...”

A sound echoed from deep within Hiro’s core. The discordant note of something shattering.

“Now I see.”

Whatever it had been, it was gone now, never to be restored.

“Who I am. What I am.”

A pleasant clarity suffused his mind. He drew the soldier’s spear from where it lay planted in the earth—

“Die, you little shit!”

—and drove it through the chest of an enemy running at him. As that man fell, he plucked the sword from his belt—

“Take thi— Agk!”

—and used it to strike off the next soldier’s head. He could feel power coursing through his body, filling him up to the very tips of his fingers.

“Bugger me! Surround hi— Ghk!” Hiro cut another man down midsentence. He snatched the spear from his victim’s grasp and swept it in a wide horizontal arc. Three soldiers’ heads flew from their shoulders.

All the walls that had once restrained him now lay in ruins. He could feel his mind growing clearer, his limbs growing lighter, his senses growing sharper. His former self was returning. Twice, thrice he clenched his fingers, testing the new feel of his old body.

Not a word did he speak. His eyes were twin abysses, devoid of emotion, devoid of all but nothingness. And so the slaughter began—so very dark, and so very deep, and so very cold.

＊＊＊

Where did I go wrong? What did I do to deserve this?

Over and over again, the man asked himself the same questions. Where scant moments ago he had felt on top of the world, now he knew only despair. The enemy was hot on his heels, and it was all he could do to keep running.

His name was Caleris, and he served in the ducal army as an advisor to Beil Narmer Lichtein. This year, he would be thirty-four. Though he had once worn a slave’s chains, by devoting himself to the pursuit of learning and cultivating his talents, he had eventually won his freedom. It had taken many years, but at last, he was living the life he had always dreamed of—or at least, he had been until he’d had the sheer misfortune to stumble across that thing.

Now his comrades were gone. All five hundred of them—five hundred! How did he kill five hundred?!—cut down by a single swordsman upon whom none of them had landed a single blow. Either this was a nightmare or they were facing some manner of spirit. No mortal man could have done such a thing.

Wait...what if that really was a spirit?

Caleris slowed to a stop as the thought developed. He hid among the rocks while he caught his breath. His commander would surely want to hear of this. He ought to report back once the danger had passed. Keeping a watchful eye on his surroundings all the while, he slowed his breathing and tried to organize his thoughts.

A spirit. That’s it. He must have been some kind of a spirit. Nothing else could have done that to Dagnar.

He shuddered to remember it. A strange boy had appeared out of nowhere to obstruct their march, torn Dagnar’s arm clean off when the man went to cut him down, then unleashed indescribable carnage. All who stood and fought, he slaughtered. All who fled, he ran down and beheaded. Worst of all, as he cut down men left and right, his face had betrayed not a single shred of emotion. The memory of his empty eyes made Caleris tremble with fear even now.

Why is this happening? This mission was supposed to be simple! Flank the princess! That’s all we had to do!

His teeth were chattering, though it was hardly cold. He hurriedly pressed his hand over his mouth. If he made the slightest sound, the boy would find him.

Somewhere, a stone clattered underfoot. Caleris squeezed his eyes shut as a humid wind brushed his cheek. He felt ready to go mad with fear.

I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die...

But the despair that dogged his heels was not so kind.

“I’ll give you two choices,” a voice said. “Die by your own hand or by mine.”

Caleris squealed in terror. “Mercy, I beg you! Whatever I did, I’ll never do it again, I swear! Just let me go!”

The boy looked down on Caleris, who was grinding his head into the dirt, with dead eyes.

“I’m on my hands and knees here! What did I ever do to you? Nothing, that’s what! You’ve already killed all my friends! What more could you wan— Agh!” Caleris gave a choked scream as the boy picked him up by the throat. Feeling the inhuman strength in those slender arms, his spirit broke entirely.

“I’m telling you, I’ve done nothing! Don’t kill me! I don’t want to die!”

“True enough. You have done nothing...yet. But you may, if I let you go. That is the crime for which I sentence you. In showing you mercy, I might bring misfortune upon the innocent, and that I could not bear.”

Caleris’s eyes bulged. “You’d kill me just for that? For what I might do?! Who do you think you are, a god?!”

“Right now, I might very well be.”

“Wha—?!”

Blood burst from Caleris’s mouth as a shining blade slashed across his chest. As his world grew dark, a story he had heard long ago passed through his mind. An old tale, the kind parents all across Soleil told their children at bedtime.

Go to sleep before nightfall, like good little children...

...or the Desperation will snatch you away, and you’ll never be heard from again.

＊＊＊

From the waist up, he was naked, exposing his muscle-bound physique to the air. The rest of his body was draped in expensive silks laced with silver and gold. His skin was the same olive brown as the rest of his men, but there the similarities ended. He stood stronger and taller than any of them and exuded an aura of authority none could match. His name was Beil Narmer Lichtein, third son of the duke of Lichtein and the commander of the ducal army’s advance force. He narrowed his eyes at the crimson-haired princess huddled in the cleft in the cliffs where she had made her stand.

“Stubborn little thing, isn’t she?” he said. “I like that in a woman.”

Behind him, two hundred imperial soldiers knelt on the ground in a row. He slashed off several of their heads, then turned to his men. “That’s about enough. Kill the rest, then bring me the big one.”

The imperial soldiers were powerless to defend themselves as the ducal men ran them through, tore out their throats, lopped off their limbs. Soon there were none left alive, only a line of corpses relinquishing their lifeblood to the parched soil. As they bled dry, Beil’s subordinates dragged another prisoner before him: a man with a large scar on his cheek.

“Dios?!” The princess’s horrified scream was audible even from this distance.

Beil’s expression twisted into an ecstatic grin. He burst into laughter. “Good, good! So she speaks at last! And what lovely cries you raise, my sweet!”

Dios ground his teeth in rage. Beil planted a foot on his head. “Oh, you didn’t like that, did you?” he jeered. “She means something to you, hm? What are you? Her advisor? Her bodyguard?”

He was formidable, this one, far more so than the other imperial soldiers. That much he had shown during the fighting at Fort Alt. Beil had taken great pains to capture him alive, hoping to put his bullish bulk to use as a slave. These past few days truly had been one stroke of fortune after another.

“How does it feel to know that when I finally get her in my clutches, it’ll be because of you? Well, not to worry. I’ll treat you to a good view!”

Beil kicked Dios across the face, prompting a grunt of pain, then raised his voice to address the princess. “If you want your man back in one piece, lay down your weapons and come quietly!”

She was too far away to make out her expression, but judging by the soldiers struggling to hold her back, he seemed to have touched a nerve. She only needed one more push. So thinking, Beil brought his sword down on Dios’s shoulder.

Dios cried out in shock and confusion. His severed arm flew high into the air, tumbling end over end to smack into the dirt. He gritted his teeth and managed to bear the pain, but there was no escaping the loss of a limb. His consciousness hung by a thread.

Seeing the blood spurt from Dios’s shoulder, Beil turned to one of his men. “Stop his bleeding!”

“Sir!” The man produced a strip of cloth and bound it tight around the open wound.

Beil spitted the severed arm on the tip of his sword and hurled it across the gap between the armies. It thumped to the ground at the crimson-haired girl’s feet.

“Do you see that, Sixth Princess? Best not wait too long or your man will die!”

He burst into laughter. What now, you fools? he thought. Charge to your deaths. Lay down your weapons. I care not what you do, so long as you do something.

In his mind’s eye, he could already picture the princess crying and screaming. Just the thought filled him with indescribable pleasure. He would torment her, violate her, debase her, and parade her whimpering ruin all around the empire. The very idea made him laugh so hard, he thought his mouth might split—but in the end, his joy proved short-lived.

“Hear me, Lady Celia Estrella Elizabeth von Grantz!” Dios shouted.

“Eh?” Beil looked down at him, puzzled.

“Leave me here and fight on! Though my body may die, my soul will forever be with the Grantzian Empire, and with you! You once spoke to me of a noble dream! I would see that dream fulfilled!”

Beil’s eyes narrowed. “What are you babbling about?”

“If I must give my life in exchange, I will go to the Twelve Divines with my head held high!”

“Shut your bastard mouth!” Beil kicked Dios across the face once more, but Dios didn’t so much as flinch. He fixed Beil with a glare so piercing that the man backed away in fear, then spat out a gobbet of blood and continued.

“Yours is an unforgiving road, my lady, and many are the hardships you must face along the way! But I beg you, walk it even so! Though it should be strewn with corpses, see it to its end! Forge a path of conquest you might truly call your own!”

“Enough!” Beil planted a kick in Dios’s armless shoulder. Dios gasped in pain and fell to the ground. Beil glared down at him for a moment with fury in his eyes, before turning his attention back to the sixth princess. He was just in time to see her retreating behind her shield wall.

“Get back here!” he bellowed. “Do you care nothing for this man’s life?!” He seized Dios by the hair and wrenched his head upright, but to no avail. The princess’s distant figure disappeared amid the shadows of the cliffs.

Dios gave a pained chuckle. “Seems your plan’s failed. If you mean to kill me, then kill me, but you’ll make no slave of my lady. Not this day nor any other.”

Beil scowled. “Very well. I’ll take her by force, then—and take her I will, mark my words, until she’s thoroughly defiled.” He smashed Dios’s face into the dirt again, then brought a foot down hard on the back of his head. Over and over he stamped, without mercy, until his rage was spent and Dios spoke no more.

“Hmph,” he grunted. “Find yourself a good seat in the afterlife. Once I’ve got my hands on your precious princess, I’ll put on a show just for you.” He sawed the head from Dios’s lifeless body and tossed it at one of his soldiers’ feet. “Take that and raise it high. Make sure they can see it.”

Beil spared the severed head not another glance as he raised his bloodstained sword and bellowed across the battlefield:

“Charge!”

＊＊＊

“The bastards think they have us! Make them think twice! Protect Her Highness with your lives!”

Tris’s voice echoed through the narrow confines of the canyon. The heavies beat their swords against their shields as they braced for the charge. Behind them, the archers fired at will, picking off enemies by the dozen. Farther back yet was Liz. With her eyes downcast and her eyelids swollen and puffy, she made for a pitiable sight. She bore no trace of her usual vibrancy.

Hiro...

His gentle face solidified in the back of her mind. Though even now he didn’t know it, he had been her rock: this mysterious boy who had shared her journey though he had been lost himself, this kind soul who had stayed by her side without a word of complaint. When he had asked to fight alongside her, she could have hugged him for joy.

I wish I could have told you how sorry I was.

Her fight was gone. After seeing so much death, she could stomach no more. Only a handful of her men had survived the journey thus far, and they too would lie cold on the ground before the hour was done.

You know, Hiro...I’m just so tired of it all.

She hugged her knees and buried her head in her thighs, shutting out the rest of the world. With no more tears left to cry, she closed her eyes and sank into a sleep-like fugue. As she fell deeper into darkness, the clamor of battle receded until it hardly seemed real at all.

And so she was the only one not to see the battle turn.

As the glaring sunlight beat down upon the wasteland and the desert sands churned with sweat and blood, a mote of darkness plunged into the fray like a droplet of long-awaited rain. The two sides withdrew as it alighted on the earth. All across the battlefield, men paused in their fighting and regarded it warily.

It stood up, revealing itself to be a teenage boy. His hair danced in the wind, dark and lustrous as obsidian. His eyes were black and clear, and they gleamed with a cold rationality. He regarded the enemy in silence, dressed from head to toe in garb like darkness incarnate.

He swung his glittering sword in a lazy arc. A gentle breeze rolled through the enemy ranks. For a moment, nothing seemed amiss, and then a handful of soldiers collapsed in plumes of gore. In a matter of seconds, the same scene played out across the entire battlefield. As far as the eye could see, ducal soldiers stood showered in their comrades’ blood, blinking in confusion as they struggled to process what had happened. Even the sight of their friends’ bodies seemed to evince no understanding. Their minds had gone numb with shock, leaving them unable to comprehend where the blood had come from or what had occurred.

Time seemed to have stopped, and yet there was one exception. The boy strolled forward into the enemy lines. Without so much as a glance, he lashed out sideways. A ducal soldier’s head flew, its jaw still hanging slack from its stupefied face. He twisted his torso around, claiming two more heads with his gleaming blade. Before the blood had even begun to spray from their severed necks, he took a step forward and killed another man, then yet another step and cut down three.

Passing his sword to his left hand, he picked up a fallen spear from the ground and hurled it. The shaft skewered four men’s heads like so many apples. Even as they fell, he drove his sword into a stunned soldier’s throat with his left hand, then sliced the head from the man next to him with a stroke like a lover’s caress.

That much death would shock anyone back to their senses. A great roar rose from the enemy soldiers as they regained their wits. The sheer force of their battle cry seemed enough to send him flying.

“What are you, you monster?!”

“Yah!”

His shining blade sliced through the air to bisect an attacking soldier’s torso. The two pieces fell to the ground with a sickening squelch.

“Raaaaaagh!”

“Hah!”

He ducked inside the reach of a lunging spear and rammed his blade through its owner’s chest. Yanking it out, he mowed down two more soldiers with the backswing, then launched himself high into the air. A volley of spears thudded into the dirt where he had been standing not a moment before.

His somersault brought him down amid a dense knot of enemies. Two strokes, three, and he carved a cross in midair. White lines glimmered in the space around him. His enemies died where they stood before they even had the chance to feel pain. How easily he cut them down, with the cold indifference of a child crushing ants.

Tris watched, dumbstruck, as the battle pitched wildly in their favor. He was far from the only one. Even the imperial soldiers were keeping a wary eye on the boy, making sure not to lose sight of him.

A surreal atmosphere hung over the battlefield. The living darkness eroded the enemy ranks like water seeping through cloth. Its assault had the ducal army’s vanguard in tatters. Regrouping and recovering would be a hopeless endeavor in their current state. Besides, every soldier on the front line wore a mask of sheer terror. If not for the momentum of their allies behind them, forcing them to maintain their charge, they would have broken and run—but as it was, they could only plunge helplessly into the maw of darkness.

“It can’t be! Is that the whelp?” Tris stared in disbelief. Even from this distance, the figure now carving a swathe through the enemy lines bore no resemblance to the timid child he remembered. It was as though the boy were possessed by some malevolent force. “And what’s that sword he’s wielding?”

No matter how many men the gleaming blade slaughtered, no blood ever dulled its brilliance. It shone as brightly as ever, fierce and beautiful and silver.

Though Tris did not—could not—have known, there was once a time when that blade was renowned as the sword of a hero. As the weapon of a king who saved his nation from ruin and brought the surrounding lands to heel. A thousand years of history had turned it to myth; even its name lay buried beneath the sands of time, leaving only the legend of a sword long lost. Yet in the legend of Held Rey Schwartz von Grantz, second emperor of the Grantzian Empire, it was written:

To the king blessed with twinned black, commander of all creation, there came a mighty sword, and it knew no defeat, bringing only victory assured.

None remained alive to remember those days, but if they had, the sword would have struck them with awe. Its hilt and crossguard seemed dusted with powder snow, so pure and unblemished was their shine; its blade trailed a thousand dazzling stars as its razor edge parted the air. Set against the twinblack boy and his dark garb, it seemed a heavenly canopy on a backdrop of deepest night.

It was the last and most beautiful of the Spiritblade Sovereigns, made manifest once more in this world:

The Heavenly Sovereign, Excalibur.

“Well, I’ll be...” one of the heavies whispered. “They’re retreating!”

The massacre had been unfolding in stunned silence, but now movement rippled across the battlefield. Word of events must finally have reached the enemy commander. The Lichtein army’s front line ponderously retracted, skirting Hiro as it went. The boy watched them go for a while, then turned away, seemingly no longer interested.

Tris’s face stiffened in sudden urgency. “Whelp! Behind you!” he shouted. A cloud of arrows rose from the retreating army, but Hiro didn’t seem to have heard. Even if he had, without a shield, what chance did he have of defending himself? It was over. Tris shut his eyes.

When next he opened them, he could not tell whether or not he was dreaming. Hiro stood amid a forest of arrows, but they parted like a stream around him, leaving him unharmed. As Tris stared, mouth agape, the boy’s eye caught his gaze.

“Uranos... Well, that explains it.” As Tris breathed a sigh of relief, Hiro launched into a sprint. “What’s he playing at?”

Tris peered at him warily, and with good reason: the boy was approaching the imperial lines at full speed. His face was no longer the emotionless abyss of before. He seemed once more like the fainthearted boy he had been when they first met.

“Tris!” he shouted. “You’re all right!”

“What are you— Whoa!” Tris’s voice cut off as Hiro flung his arms around him. For a moment, he didn’t know how to react, but then folded his arms around the boy’s shoulders.

“What about Liz? Where is she? She isn’t hurt, is she?”

“Now just— One thing at a time!” Tris spluttered. “I’ve sent Her Highness to the rear to regain her strength. More importantly, how do you fare?” That was perhaps a pointless question, with Hiro in such obvious good cheer, but it only felt right to ask.

Hiro looked himself over. “Fine, I think? Anyway, I’m going to see Liz. I won’t be a minute!”

“Now? No, she’s not—” Tris reached out to stop him, but the boy had already vanished into the depths of the canyon.

The stench of death hung thick and muggy between the cliff walls. Hiro unconsciously scrunched his nose. Just how many men had died here? He made his way deeper, taking care not to tread on any bodies.

“Liz! There you—” He spotted her and flashed her a smile but quickly sobered up as he took in the whole picture. She sat on top of a boulder, huddled into herself, surrounded by corpses. His chest tightened at the sight. She seemed so fragile that she could shatter at any moment.

Hiro hefted himself up alongside her, but she said nothing. Cerberus watched him at her side. He patted the wolf on the head, then placed a hand on Liz’s shoulder.

“Liz...”

She was dead to the world. She didn’t even seem to recognize his touch.

“Liz!”

He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook. At last she raised her head, though she still remained silent. Hiro swallowed hard at the sight of her face. Her eyes stared unfocused into empty space, devoid of their vital spark. Her eyelids were swollen, red, and tender.

Oh, Liz...who hurt you like this?

Hiro gently brought an arm around her head and pulled her close. Faced with such utter exhaustion, he couldn’t find any words that seemed right.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered into her crimson hair. He didn’t even know what he was apologizing for: not being able to think of anything to say or arriving too late to help.

A shudder of life ran through Liz’s fingers. She gripped his arms and lifted her face from his chest.

“Hiro?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, flashing a guilty smile. “I know you’ll probably be mad, but...I’m back.”

Liz reached out to touch his cheek. The air here was thick and humid as a midsummer day, but her fingertips were cold enough to make him shiver.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

“I figured out what I can do to help.” He took Liz’s hand and gently held it in his own, heating her with his warmth. The light returned to her eyes as it struck home that this was really him, but then a wave of sadness overcame her and she lowered her gaze.

“Dios is dead,” she said.

“I see.”

“He was like a brother to me, you know? More than my real brothers ever were.”

“Yeah.”

“But when it really mattered, I couldn’t do anything to help him.”

Hiro said nothing, letting her continue.

“He told me to...to make my dream real.” Her voice cracked as tears welled in her eyes. “I... I don’t...”

She wailed and buried her face in Hiro’s chest, where she began to cry short, panting sobs. Hiro wrapped his arms around her and drew her close. A wielder of a Spiritblade she might be, but beneath all that, she was still just a girl of fifteen. To have to watch someone you called family cut down before your eyes would tear anyone’s heart in two.

You know, she really does take after you.

Her hair was a different hue, her features were nothing like his, but her soul burned with the same flame. Both had had the burden of authority thrust upon them at a young age, yet found their lofty positions only stifled their ambitions and left them powerless to save their nation from ruin.

Is that why you called me back?

As he stroked Liz’s head, he felt he finally understood why he had been brought back to this world. Perhaps he was mistaken. He probably was. Even so, it was as good a reason as any.

Tris and the heavies watched on in anguish as their princess silently wept atop the rock. Even the burliest man present shed tears through clenched teeth. Tris alone refused to cry, but he trembled with rage. A trickle of blood oozed from the corner of his mouth.

Dios von Mikhail would have been twenty-eight years of age this year. He had once made his living working as a mercenary before taking a grievous wound and ending up abandoned in the empire. Tris had been the one to take him in and nurse him back to health. Not once had Dios neglected his training, and over time he had won countless feats of valor on the battlefield. The day his prowess had been rewarded with a position as the sixth princess’s aide was one of the proudest of Tris’s life. If Liz was the old soldier’s daughter, then Dios was surely his son.

Tris thumped his hand against his chest, consigning his memories to the past. His gauntlet clanged against his breastplate, breaking the silence. He sank to one knee.

“Princess Celia Estrella Elizabeth von Grantz!” he shouted. All eyes turned to him as his voice echoed through the canyon. “Now is not the time to mourn! That is not what Dios would want! Soon the sun will set! We must think of a way to break through their lines!”

It was not Liz who answered, however, but Hiro.

“Leave that to me,” he said. “I have a plan.”

Tris looked taken aback. “What?”

“The enemy forces number around two thousand. Even if we somehow escaped them, they’d only fall on the surrounding settlements in retaliation. I doubt Liz would want innocent people to suffer on her account.”

“Hiro?” Liz looked up at him in confusion, and small wonder: for all she knew, he was still just an ordinary boy.

Hiro smiled awkwardly and continued. “We don’t have to wipe them out, but unless we thin their numbers, we’ll be left with a bandit epidemic.”

Tris frowned. “We’ve twenty men left, if that. What would you have us do against two thousand? Is each of us to slay a hundred men?”

“Nothing like that. Especially given the state you’re in.” Hiro’s smile widened as he hopped down from the rock. He raised an index finger. “Why, it’s so simple, even a child could think of it.”

And so the man once known and feared as Mars was reborn.

＊＊＊

The Lichtein encampment lay two sel from the cliffs, a cluster of several hundred tents ringed by a palisade. A notably luxurious tent sat in the center. Inside it, advisors and officers lined up in two parallel columns. Beil Lichtein sat in a large chair at their head, scowling as he listened to the report of their losses.

“...six officers, and eight hundred and twelve infantry, with two hundred and nineteen more wounded. That’s all, sir.” The chief strategist concluded his report and returned to his place in line.

Not only had the five hundred soldiers he’d dispatched to circle around the enemy’s rear been wiped out, but the sixth princess herself had put up unexpectedly fierce resistance. He had lost a lot of good men that day.

“Do you mean to say we lost a thousand men to fewer than a hundred?!” Beil dashed his wine glass against the ground, sending shards of glass flying in all directions. “Is this what you would have me tell my brother?! That I let the princess slip through my fingers and frittered away a thousand men in the process?!”

The chief strategist came forward once more. “There were extenuating circumstances, Your Highness. Surely you witnessed them for yourself. What attacked us was no human, of that I’m certain!”

This man in black was a menace, it was true. No sooner had he descended on the battlefield than he had carved through their ranks in the blink of an eye. Even so, that was no excuse for failure.

“Bah!” Beil scoffed. “So I must instead report that I lost a thousand soldiers to a single man? My brother would have my head!” He kicked his chair in an explosion of rage. It collided with the desk and smashed to splinters with a discordant crash. Still not placated, he seized one of his officers by the lapels.

“He was strong, that much I’ll grant, but who gave him the run of the battlefield? You! You and all the other imbeciles I dared to hope could lead my troops!”

“We had no choice, sir!” the officer protested. “After what he did to us, the men were terrified!”

“And you call yourselves soldiers of Lichtein?! Pathetic!” Beil thrust the man away and glared at the rest in turn. “We attack with the dawn, every last man. There will be no retreat. If any of you object, step forward now and I’ll end your concerns.”

This was supposed to have been an easy assignment. By all rights, the fighting should have been over hours ago. They had seen no need to prepare for a night battle, so now that darkness had fallen, they were left sitting on their hands while the enemy enjoyed a much-needed reprieve.

“None of you? Good. Then this meeting is over. Find replacements for the dead officers, then get to work. I want every last one of you plotting through the night. Anyone stupid or incompetent enough to disappoint me will spend the rest of their lives in chains.”

His subordinates fell to one knee, clapping their right hands to their left shoulders. “As you command!” they intoned as one.

At that moment, a panicked messenger tumbled into the tent. “We’re under attack!” he cried. “Enemy numbers unknown! The camp is under attack!”

Confusion spread across every face, and for good reason. The enemy was on the brink of annihilation. The idea that they would launch an attack themselves was unthinkable.

Even Beil doubted his own ears. “What did you say?” he demanded.

“I repeat, the camp is under attack! Enemy numbers unknown!”

“Preposterous! There are barely a handful of them left!”

Beil stormed out of the tent in a flurry of silks, followed in short order by his advisors and officers. Yells, screams, and thundering hoofbeats filled the air outside as hysteria spread through the resting soldiers.

“What is the meaning of this?!” he bellowed. “Surely they can’t have reinforcements!”

The princess had no cavalry left, only infantry and archers. If there were hoofbeats in the air, they could only signal the arrival of a new force, but that wasn’t possible...or at least, it shouldn’t have been.

“It can’t be... Has my brother fallen?” For a moment, the thought crossed Beil’s mind, but he immediately dismissed it. “No. He would never.”

The ducal army’s main force of twelve thousand was currently assaulting Berg Fortress. So long as they held, no enemy reinforcements could reach them here.

“This Athena has a formidable reputation, but even so...”

Beil and his men were an advance force dispatched to capture the princess, having arrived two days ago. Even the illustrious Warmaiden would be hard-pressed to break through twelve thousand men. But then, if enemy reinforcements were out of the question, what was going on?

As Beil looked around in confusion, an advisor at his side took charge. “Return to your regiments!” he commanded the officers. “Assemble back here once you have restored order!”

“At once!” they replied. They turned to leave—and then, as one, toppled to the ground. A young boy stepped over their corpses with a battered spear in hand.

“That was lucky,” he said, heaving a mock sigh. “If you hadn’t thought to call a strategy meeting, this would have been much harder.”

One of Beil’s advisors fell on his rear with a squeal. The boy cast aside his spear, picked up a sword from one of the officers’ bodies, and began to inspect it. “Hm. Well-maintained,” he said. “The sword of a dutiful man.” With a smooth sideways stroke, he lopped the head from the fallen advisor.

Every man present had witnessed the havoc this black-garbed boy had wreaked on the battlefield. Now that he was in their midst, the fear he had sown in their hearts began to take root. The advisors and captains alike backed away in terror.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you get away,” the boy said. “Not when it might invite misfortune on the innocent.”

He held his sword horizontally and threw it. With a crunch of bone, it caught an advisor between his tear-filled eyes. Blood sprayed from his shattered forehead. The rest of the men screamed and ran—

“I told you, I can’t let you get away.”

—but only so far as the boy let them. They died with prayers for salvation on their lips.

At last, only Beil was left. “Curse you!” he cried, fleeing into the tent.

The boy picked up a curved sword and followed. As he entered the tent, Beil turned around to reveal a sword studded with gemstones. His grin deepened. “Heh. I don’t know who or what you are, but this’ll cut you down like a babe at the teat!”

“A spirit weapon?” The boy shrugged. “Well, then.”

He brought his sword down on the nearby wreckage of Beil’s chair. Over and over he slashed at the wood, until the curved blade was chipped and dented.

“What are you doing?” Beil’s brow knotted in confusion.

When finally the boy turned back to him, he held not so much a sword as a rod of beaten metal. “Have you ever heard it said that our capacity for cruelty comes from our capacity for reason?” he said. “My brother’s words, not mine, but I always thought they rang strangely true.”

“What’s this prattle?”

“I’m going to ask you some questions now. I want you to answer me honestly.”

“Have you lost your mind?!” Beil was growing exasperated. The boy barely even seemed to be listening to him.

“Normally, I’d start with your fingers, but I’m short on time. I suppose your arm will do.”

The boy disappeared from Beil’s field of view, and then suddenly the abyss was right before Beil’s eyes, staring deep into his soul. The next moment, his arm exploded with pain. He looked down to see the boy’s battered sword sunk deep into his bicep, its uneven blade digging into his flesh like the teeth of a saw.

“Gaaaaaah!!!”

“First question. Was it you who killed Dios?”

Beil grunted as a kick to the face sent him flying.

“Someone, help...please... I need to stop the bleeding...” He let his spirit weapon fall and clutched at his arm, writhing in agony.

“I’ll do your ankle next. Try not to die before you give me some answers.”

Beil looked up to find himself gazing into the void. What stood over him now was something mechanical, something dead, lacking even a shred of emotion. He found himself wondering if it was even human at all.

A strange delirium had come over all of the soldiers who had fought on the front lines. They had all repeated the same thing, over and over in a fervent whisper: “The Desperation.”

Overcome by despair, Beil ground his head into the dirt. “I yield! You’ve won! I beg you, cease this!”

“Why should I?”

“You’d be violating the binational accord! There are rules for treating prisoners of war! Excessive mistreatment or killing of captured soldiers is prohi—”

The black-haired boy cut Beil off mid-explanation. “Those don’t apply to me, I’m afraid. I’m not an imperial soldier.”

Beil struggled to understand. “You’re not...? What?”

“I still haven’t gotten an answer, and we’re running out of time. Perhaps you’ll be more willing to talk without a foot.” The boy’s voice was detached as he approached.

“Gah!” Beil cried as the blade sank into his leg.

The boy leaned forward, his breath as cold as ice. “Now, let’s try this again. Was it you who killed Dios?”

Hiro left the tent to find that the sky to the east was beginning to lighten. Out in the darkness of the wasteland, he could perhaps have made out his feet if he squinted. Here in the Lichtein encampment, however, the illumination was so overpowering that there was no such need.

The place was barely recognizable. All the tents had been torn open, tipped over, consumed by fire. Burning bodies littered the ground, poisoning the air with an acrid stench. Riderless horses ran free beyond the palisade. Hiro stood in the middle of the camp, a black-haired figure gazing at the gutted remains of the central tent amid a vision of hell.

“Hiro!” A crimson-haired girl rushed up to him and patted him up and down, checking him for injuries. “You’re not hurt, are you? Are you sore anywhere?”

He blushed as her inquisitive hands reached his face. “I’m fine. See? Not a scratch on me.” He raised his arms and twisted left, then right, showing her he was unharmed.

Liz’s eyes softened and she sighed with relief. “Thank goodness! Whatever were you thinking, running in here alone?!”

Her hand flew out with inhuman speed to smoosh his cheeks in a vice.

“Bhut it wash the obly whay!”

“I want an apology, not whatever that was!”

His jaw was starting to creak in her grip. He couldn’t exactly explain himself like this. He couldn’t even apologize.

“Promise me you’ll not go running off into any more enemy camps. I can fight with you, you know!”

Hiro nodded desperately. “Yesh.”

With that, Liz finally released her hand. As Hiro massaged his stinging cheeks, a light bulb went on in Liz’s eyes. “Oh, that’s right!” she said. “What was that sword all about?”

Hiro still had Excalibur tied to his belt. Liz crouched down and looked it over with appraising eyes.

“Whoa...” she breathed. “It looks gorgeous up close. Lævateinn’s like a sweet little girl, but you’re a proper noble lady.”

She unsheathed Lævateinn and held them together, comparing. Sweat beaded on Hiro’s forehead. This was going to be difficult to explain. Impossible, actually. The sword of a legendary hero, supposedly lost for a thousand years, had turned up in his hand. What could he say that would make any sense? Screw it, he thought, and decided to lie.

“After we split up, I... I found it. By the side of the road.”

“You found this by the roadside? Just lying there?” Liz asked.

“Um...yeah! I thought it looked pretty, so I took it.”

“Really? Wow...I bet that doesn’t happen every day. Maybe it’s because Baum’s so close by?”

“Ha ha, yeah, maybe!”

It was an obvious lie, but she bought it all the same. Maybe she was too quick to trust, or maybe she was just an airhead. Either way, Hiro was thankful.

“Hmm...” Liz murmured to herself. “I can sense a powerful spirit in there. It’s no ordinary sword, that’s for certain. No, wait... Could the Spirit King’s power be bolstering it somehow? But then...” She seemed to be genuinely deep in thought.

Hiro felt a little guilty—not to mention uncertain where to look. The front of her armor did a poor job of hiding her chest when she was bending over like that, and it was getting harder and harder to ignore. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, one might call it. Her shifting from side to side to inspect Excalibur from different angles made even her modest chest sway noticeably. Her shapely figure and the sweat beading on her pale skin only inflamed his excitement. If this kept up, he was going to say something ill-advised.

Unable to take any more, Hiro cut Liz out of his view entirely. Only then did he notice the hulking figure looming behind her back.

“Having yourself a good long look, are you, whelp?”

With his bulging muscles, Tris looked like a bear on horseback. A sword glinted in his hand. It was trembling, most likely with barely restrained bloodlust. Hiro’s desire instantly cooled. “I-It’s not what you think!” he stammered.

“Oh, isn’t it now? Coercing Her Highness into such a shameful pose—I should take your head, you lecher!”

“I’m not coercing anyone into anything!”

“Silence! You’ve had designs on Her Highness’s virtue from the start, I’ll wager. Well, no longer!”

“Now, hold on!” Hiro protested. “Let’s not jump to conclusions! Just hear me out!”

Liz straightened up and turned to Tris. “Could you two lovebirds do this some other time? I want to know how the battle went.”

Tris’s face froze. “Lovebirds? Your Highness, I assure you—”

“We’re standing in the middle of the enemy camp. Give me a report.”

Tris ground his teeth. “Bah. Well, as you can see, we dealt them a crushing defeat. Thanks to the whelp, much as it galls me to admit it.”

The first thing Hiro had instructed them to do was round up their old horses. Naturally, some were long gone, but they had managed to recapture around sixty, which they divided into three groups of twenty. With these, they launched an attack on the Lichtein camp from three sides.

Only the foremost few horses in each group bore soldiers. The rest went riderless, and indeed many peeled off and ran wild along the way. Their charge would have made a pitiful sight in the light of day. In the dead of night, however, it wreaked havoc. With their true numbers hidden under the cover of darkness, the thundering of hooves across the silent wasteland made their small force seem a mighty army.

The enemy had already been rattled by the battle earlier that day, and the night attack had hit them when they were least equipped to think clearly. Few soldiers would have been willing to contend with shod hooves powerful enough to shatter skulls.

“Between that and them killing each other, I daresay few got away,” Tris continued.

Additionally, Hiro had instructed a small number of infantrymen to dress as enemy soldiers, sneak into the camp during the mayhem, and attack. With their superiors attending Beil’s strategy meeting, the rank and file had quickly plunged into confusion. No one wants to die—human beings will do anything to survive—so once the seeds of suspicion had been sown, the men quickly fell upon each other. Meanwhile, Hiro had assaulted the main tent, ensuring the officers could not restore order to the chaos.

Liz nodded as Tris concluded. “Good work, but we have to stay vigilant. There might still be stragglers lurking nearby. Sweep the area, then gather the men here once you’re done.”

“At once, Your Highness.” Tris clapped a hand to his chest, then turned his horse about and rode away through the burned-out camp. Liz watched until he was out of sight, then turned to Hiro.

“And what about you?” she asked.

Hiro said nothing, but jerked a thumb at the pile of ashes that had once been the central tent.

“Is he dead?” Liz asked hesitantly.

“Yeah.”

“I see.”

They stood in silence for a while before Liz spoke again, her expression clouded. “You know, I don’t really know how to feel. There’s a part of me that’s glad he paid for what he did, and another part of me that just feels numb, and I’m not sure I know what to do with either of them.”

“You’ll figure it out someday,” Hiro said. As I did, he silently added.

For better or for worse, she was pure of heart—too pure, perhaps. Someday, that would lead to tragedy. If she had been in his place, she would have accepted Beil’s surrender. The title of Sixth Princess was a great weight, and she had grown used to suppressing her emotions in order to bear it.

That was only what he thought was going on inside her head, of course. He could not know for certain. To justify his actions with convenient assumptions about another person’s heart was perhaps the height of arrogance. Even so, he would not take back his attack on Beil’s tent, even if he could.

The seeds of misfortune are best plucked before they can take root.

As a glimmer of dazzling sunlight broke the horizon to the east, a great crack split the melancholy air. Hiro’s eyes grew wide as he saw the cause: the crimson-haired girl had just smacked her cheeks with both palms.

“All right! That’s quite enough moping for one morning,” she announced. Gone were the pain and the sorrow that had weighed so heavily on her brow. Her face was as bright as the new day.

“Come on, Hiro. Let’s go and see my uncle!”

Here was a crimson flower blooming in the wasteland, nobler and more beautiful than any precious stone.

I should never have worried, Hiro thought with a wry smile. She has your blood in her veins, after all.

“But first, I owe you a thank-you,” Liz said.

Hiro grew alarmed as she suddenly leaned closer. “Huh? What are you—”

“You’re the reason I’m still here. I won’t forget that, not as long as I live.”

Something soft and warm brushed his cheek. By the time he realized what it was, she had already pulled away.

“We’re in this together now, all right?”

Hiro gave a flustered little laugh. “All right.”

Truly, a smile suits you better.