Shinwa Densetsu no Eiyuu no Isekaitan - Volume 1 - Chapter 4

Chapter 4: The Warmaiden

The twenty-eighth day of the fifth month of Imperial Year 1023, two days after the battle in the nameless wasteland

Liz’s company was eight sel from the border city of Linkus and closing. They had begun their journey with over three hundred soldiers. Now, after a series of monster attacks and their clash with Lichtein, they numbered fewer than ten. Despite their losses, Liz rode onward. Hiro, with his arms wrapped around her waist, had no choice but to follow.

“Once we reach Berg Fortress, I’ll have to teach you to ride,” Liz said.

“Um...that might be harder than you think.”

He’d had much the same conversation a thousand years ago. Emperor Artheus had taken it upon himself to instruct him in riding day and night, but while mounting up had been easy enough, his horses had all refused to move an inch once he was on their backs. He had always used a carriage in battle, so his inability to ride had never been an inconvenience. Now, however, perhaps it was time to look into addressing that. There were two reasons it had become a pressing issue: one, Tris’s glare was growing more murderous by the second, and two, the rising and falling of the horse’s gait was pressing Liz’s breasts into his hands.

The latter was a particular concern. A thousand years ago, he had ridden behind Artheus who, for obvious reasons, had given him no such trouble. Now that he was riding with a woman, however, things were different. Modest her chest may be, but for now, she was a world-renowned beauty in the making.

Are all girls’ chests this soft, or is it just because she’s a princess?

Hiro’s thoughts were starting to take a turn for the idiotic when Tris, Liz’s ever-watchful guardian, pulled up beside them on his horse. He shot Hiro his now customary glare, then turned to Liz. “We ought to take a rest before long, Your Highness.”

“Agreed,” Liz replied. “We don’t know what state Linkus is in, and Cerberus is getting tired. The horses could use a break too.”

Cerberus bounded alongside them, her tongue lolling dolefully from her mouth.

“I’ll send two men ahead to scout out the town,” Liz continued. “We’re not so pressed for time that we can’t afford to wait.”

If all had gone to plan, they would have been arriving at Berg Fortress by then, but after everything that had happened on their journey, there was no such thing as being too cautious.

“We’ll stop two sel from here. Are you all right with that, Hiro?”

“I’m happy to stop any time. Now, even.”

He wasn’t particularly tired, but his rear end ached something fierce. Judging by Liz’s composed expression, she wasn’t experiencing the same discomfort. Perhaps her butt was softer? The temptation to check was growing irresistible when something at the side of the road caught his eye.

“Liz! Stop!” he shouted.

She responded immediately. Their horse ground to a halt. Tris and the soldiers bringing up the rear were slower to react and sped past them, stopping farther up the trail.

“What’s wrong? Did you bite your tongue?”

“That’s not it!” Hiro cried. “Over there! There’s a child in trouble!”

“Oh no! Where are they?! What’s wrong?!” Liz looked around in alarm.

“There!” Hiro pointed.

The tension quickly drained from Liz’s body. “Oh, that? That’s not a child.”

“Are you sure? It looks like one.” Was he seeing things? He rubbed his eyes, but the figure was still there, under attack by an avian creature about twice the size of a bald eagle.

“Tris!” Liz called ahead. “We’re taking an early rest!”

“Understood, Your Highness!”

Liz dismounted first, then offered Hiro her hand. “You see that bird-like creature? That’s a gerdem. And the one you thought was a child, we call a goblin.”

Hiro took her hand and climbed down. He looked closer at the goblin, cocking his head curiously. Monsters had roamed the land a thousand years ago, just as they did now, but he didn’t remember any quite so small. With its stubby horns, round, pink eyes, and baby-like features, it looked almost endearing. It wore green clothes somewhere between a shirt and a skirt, and it clutched a stick in its chubby fist which it swung in vain at the gerdem.

“Shouldn’t we do something?” he asked. “I’m starting to feel bad for it.”

Even from afar, Hiro could sense its panic. The gerdem was swooping down on it from far beyond the reach of its stubby arms. Eventually, he could stand to watch no more, but just as he stepped forward to intervene, Liz seized him by the shoulder.

“Don’t bother,” she said. “You don’t want to get in the way.”

“Yes I do. I’m going to help.”

“That’s not what I mean. Just watch. You’ll see soon enough.”

She folded her knees and sat down on the ground. A short distance away, Tris ordered his soldiers to scout out the town. Two horses sped off across the sparse scrub of the plain, kicking up twin plumes of dust in their wake.

Hiro watched the goblin with concern, but he soon paled as events unfolded. A horde of other goblins surged out from underground. One climbed onto its neighbor’s shoulders, and another one on top of that, until they formed a tower tall enough to smack the gerdem out of the sky with their sticks.

“Huh,” he said.

“Goblins were earth spirits once, before they angered the Spirit King by getting up to too much mischief. He turned them into earth faeries and sent them to Aletia. They’re good friends with the dwarves, you know. You can often find them helping with their smithing.”

It was oddly inspiring to watch the goblins work together to take on a creature twice their size. With nimble movements, they kept the gerdem on the defensive, giving it no room to strike back. Even so, with their little sticks, the most they could injure was its pride. The bird-like creature looked thoroughly fed up but otherwise unhurt.

These goblins were cute, Hiro decided.

“If you’d tried to help, you’d be keeping that gerdem company right about now,” Liz said.

“Good job I didn’t. I’m not sure I’d enjoy being thwacked with sticks.”

Liz giggled. “I’m sure you wouldn’t. But it’s when they drop their sticks that you really have to worry.”

“What happens then?”

“Some people call it ‘Death Meteor.’ It almost killed Tris once. Goblins were once spirits, don’t forget. They’re nothing to mess with.”

Hiro felt a chill run down his spine. Anything that could threaten Tris’s life was no joke.

As he watched, the goblins started throwing their sticks. A wave of alarm seemed to pass through the gerdem. Eventually, it gave up on weathering their attacks and took wing, flying away until it vanished into the blue. The battle was over.

Liz seemed to remember something. “Oh, that’s right! They’re also all female.”

For a second, Hiro thought he’d heard something concerning, but he didn’t have a chance to ask about it. At that moment, the scouts returned from the town. A primly dressed man on the cusp of old age accompanied them. He dismounted, placed a hand to his chest, and sank to one knee, mindless of dirtying his clothes.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Celia Estrella,” he said. “My name is Kurt von Tarmier. In Margrave von Gurinda’s absence, allow me to welcome you on his behalf.”

Liz brought her hand to her own chest and bowed in return. “Celia Estrella Elizabeth von Grantz, granted the rank of major general by His Majesty the Emperor.” She delivered her courtesies with a perfectly poised expression, as befitted a princess. “Might I ask where my uncle is?”

“In Berg Fortress, Your Highness. A hostile force crossed the border from the Duchy of Lichtein four days hence—some twelve thousand men, if the reports are accurate. It is only thanks to the Warmaiden’s assistance that we have held them off thus far.” Von Tarmier produced a letter and held it out to Liz. “Margrave von Gurinda instructed me to give this to you in the event that you arrived in Linkus.”

Liz took it, broke the seal, and scanned the single leaf of paper inside. She nodded to herself as she read, then turned to Tris.

“Tris!”

“Your Highness!” Tris and his six remaining men fell to one knee in unison.

“We’ll stop by Linkus and rest awhile. After that, we’ll head to Berg Fortress.”

Ever since their clash with Lichtein, they had ridden without sleep. Tris and his men weren’t visibly tired, but trained soldiers or not, their exhaustion was surely mounting.

Liz turned to Hiro, gesturing to the letter. “Want to read it for yourself?”

“Are you sure you should be showing me that?” Hiro couldn’t hide his surprise. A personal letter wasn’t the kind of thing one would show to others, even if the contents were banal. At least, Hiro thought so, but Liz, pushing the letter on him with an encouraging nod, seemed to disagree.

The letter read as follows:

To my dearest Elizabeth,

It gladdens my heart that you have reached Linkus unharmed. I regret only that we must wait to exchange pleasantries.

I await you in Berg Fortress.

Signed,

Rugen Kiork von Gurinda

Liz turned back to von Tarmier. “How many soldiers do we have in Berg Fortress?”

Von Tarmier hesitated for a moment. “Around three thousand, including the Warmaiden’s forces from the Third Legion.”

“Those aren’t good odds.” Three thousand men against Lichtein’s twelve. Liz’s face fell, and with good reason.

Hiro’s mind began to race, searching for a way to overcome the odds, but just as quickly, he gave up. He could scheme all he liked, but there was no point—his station in this world was no higher than a common peasant, arguably lower. If he hadn’t happened to meet Liz, he would probably be living off the land right now. Who would let someone like that decide their strategies? What was he supposed to say, “I’m actually a thousand-year-old legend in the flesh”?

Well, Liz might believe me, but no one else would.

In any case, it was best to hold fire for now. He could start strategizing once he had a better grasp on the situation. He still had time to figure out how it would best be resolved.

Hiro craned his neck to look up at the sky. An azure expanse stretched from horizon to horizon, vast and clear and indifferent to the worries of men.

The border city of Linkus was a peculiar town, born of an uneasy coexistence between the grasslands of its northern quarter and the desert of its southern. Its main gate was found in the arid environs of the south. In less troubled times, the high street would have been bustling with market stalls, but now it was practically deserted. The poorer citizens who made their homes nearby had shut their windows and barred their doors. A few sparsely populated inns and taverns remained open here and there, but that was all.

Stagecoaches lined the grassy streets of the northern quarter. A crowd of nobles carrying loaded luggage milled about them. They pushed and shoved at one another, desperate not to be left behind in the city when the fighting broke out.

Margrave von Gurinda’s mansion lay at the end of the high street. On the first floor of the house, next to the corridor leading to the balnea—or bathhouse—was a square room. This room, which Margrave von Gurinda aptly called his library, housed a treasure trove of local and continental history. Bookcases occupied all four of its walls, filled with books of every kind, from ancient tomes to the most modern treatises. Those volumes that didn’t fit on the shelves spilled over onto the floor, where they lay in stacks.

In the center of the room was a crude, utilitarian writing desk that seemed somehow master of the place. Cerberus hid quivering behind its legs, looking less a noble wolf and more a puppy taking cover from the rain. Books covered its top. On the floor beside the desk, a figure sat reading, a black-haired, black-eyed boy whose features fell somewhere between weak and kind: Hiro Oguro.

Hiro placed his book back on the desk and rubbed between his eyebrows with a finger. “I’m never going to live this down,” he sighed.

Reading through these books felt like having his most embarrassing middle-school writing unearthed and shoved back in his face. No self-respecting history of Aletia could avoid bringing up the first emperor, and wherever Artheus was mentioned, Schwartz was never far behind. While only three years had passed for Hiro, a thousand years had passed for Aletia, and somewhere in the interim they’d gone so far as to deify him. Just thinking about it made his head hurt.

“Still, some parts don’t match up.”

As far as he knew, he had returned to his home world—Earth—from Aletia three years ago, when he was thirteen. Yet all of the legends agreed that Schwartz had lived out his natural lifespan in this world and passed away as emperor.

If this Schwartz wasn’t me, then who was he?

There was one possibility he could think of, but he banished the idea with a shake of his head. Aside from anything else, there was little to be gained from fixating on thousand-year-old events.

Deciding he needed a change of pace, Hiro looked outside the window. Twilight-hued clouds spread across the sky from the west, arranging themselves playfully in front of the setting sun. By that light, he reached into the inner pocket of his school blazer and took out a white card—the same card Artheus had once given him on the eve of his return to Earth.

“It does look a lot like a spirit seal...but it’s not quite the same, huh.”

He had come across illustrations of similar items in his reading, but they were neither blank nor quite so thick. He was still none the wiser as to what this thing even was, let alone what he was supposed to do with it.

“I guess not everything can be as self-explanatory as Excalibur...”

The blessing of the Spirit King was a transcendental power, a force that existed outside the limits of human understanding. As Hiro gazed into empty space, a tear appeared there with a small pop. A gleaming hilt slowly emerged from the rent as though pushing its way into existence. He lowered his eyes to his lap, and Excalibur’s hilt disappeared as quickly and completely as if it had been erased from existence. The next time, he tried grasping it instead, and the sword vanished from his belt and appeared in his hand.

“The Heavenly Emperor has chosen you,” Artheus had said when Hiro had first shown him the same trick.

Spiritblades are more than just weapons. They have minds of their own.

Simply by willing it, he could open a gateway between Aletia and the spirit world through which Excalibur could materialize. He released his grip on the blade and let it fall. It dissolved into thin air the instant before it hit the ground. A hush rippled through the room, leaving silence in its wake.

Outside, night was creeping in. A flurry of footsteps thundered down the corridor, drumming out an arrhythmic beat on the floor. The door burst open, revealing an irate Liz.

“Come on out, Cerberus! I know you’re in here!”

If Hiro had been drinking something as he turned to look, he would have spat it out. Cerberus scampered behind him, where she cowered, her ears pressed flat against her head.

“Stop whining and come with me!” Liz demanded as she approached. “We need to wash your paws, at the very least!”

Cerberus growled menacingly as Liz reached for her. Hostility burned in her amber eyes, as though she were facing down her sworn enemy. She clearly had no intention of moving an inch.

“Oh, stop being such a baby! One little bath is nothing to be scared of!”

“Um, Liz?” Hiro broke in. “Sorry, I can see you’re busy, but I have a question.”

Liz wheeled around. “Ugh, what?!”

“I don’t really know how to say this, but...where are your clothes?”

“Well, I can’t wear them while I’m bathing Cerberus, now can I? They’d get soaked! The towel hides anything that needs hiding, so it’s fine.”

“I’m telling you, it’s definitely not fine.”

Liz’s towel was doing heroic work, but it could only cover so much. After a moment of deliberation, Hiro narrowed his eyes to limit his peripheral vision and did all he could to look only at her face. That was hard enough by itself, but given the circumstances, it was the best he could manage.

“Could you please just take your bath, Cerberus?” he pleaded. “For me?”

He had to resolve this situation before Tris happened by. If the grizzled old warrior saw this, no amount of explaining would save him.

Cerberus shook her head in a surprisingly expressive “no.” Out of options, Hiro wrapped his arms around her stomach, picked her up, and, despite her struggling, handed her to Liz.

“Stop wriggling and come quietly!” Liz ordered the wolf, but somewhere in the tussle, Cerberus dislodged the towel. Liz turned to leave, unaware of the loss.

Words deserted Hiro entirely. His half-closed eyes opened wide. A surge of power to rival a Spiritblade’s blessing began to gather below his waist. His face flushed bright red, and he seemed to have forgotten how to breathe.

Oxygen, however, is generally considered important to human survival. Air burst from his lungs as he finally remembered to take a breath. At last he returned to his senses—just in time to see Tris appear in the open doorway. The old soldier’s face bore no anger, nor even remorse, but an emotion beyond description.

Hiro prostrated himself. “I won’t resist,” he said. “Just please, spare my life.”

“I’ve a question for you, whelp,” Tris rumbled.

“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Just let me live.”

“‘Let you live’? What are you babbling about?”

Hiro paused. “Wait, what?”

“Clean out your ears, boy. I’m talking to you.”

Hiro lowered his eyes. They seemed to be talking at cross-purposes. Whatever Tris was here about, it wasn’t Liz. Thank goodness he’d noticed in time. If he’d kept talking, he probably would have ended up digging his own grave.

He forced his mouth into a smile as he met Tris’s gaze again. “Please forget about all that. How can I help you?”

Tris looked at him with suspicion for a moment, but then decided it wasn’t worth it. “It’s no easy matter to discuss.” He hummed and hawed, uncertain how to continue. “In light of...events the other day, I must know where things stand.”

It seemed to have nothing to do with Liz after all. Hiro breathed a silent sigh of relief.

“Let me ask you,” Tris continued. “What are you, boy?”

“What do you mean?”

The cold edge of a blade settled against Hiro’s neck. The metal glinted in the dying sunlight.

“Have a care how you answer,” Tris said. “It might cost you your head.”

Hiro said nothing. The harsh set of Tris’s eyes made it clear that this was no idle threat.

“You’ve earned the benefit of the doubt by now,” the old soldier continued, “and there’s no denying we’ve you to thank for pulling us out of that hellhole on the border. But I saw things that day. Things I can’t pretend I didn’t see.”

“I suppose not,” Hiro said.

“I owe you my life, whelp—but if you’re a threat to Her Highness, I‘ll gladly stain my honor with your blood. I only hope it won’t come to that.”

Hiro swallowed hard. He couldn’t exactly tell the man he was the second emperor—his head would roll in a heartbeat. But then, explaining that he’d come from another world called Earth would hardly be any better for his survival prospects.

As he racked his brains for an answer he could give, Cerberus burst into the room. The wolf still looked as dry as when she’d left. She must have gotten free of Liz’s clutches.

“Fine, have it your way! No hot bath for you! I’ve already gotten dressed, anyway, so— Tris! What do you think you’re doing?!” Liz had followed Cerberus in, grumbling, but her eyes went wide when she saw the sword at Hiro’s neck. She ran up to Tris. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but that’s too far!”

“Your Highness, I...”

“Don’t ‘Your Highness’ me. Put that thing away.” Liz clearly wasn’t willing to argue the point.

Tris sheathed his sword and sank to one knee. Liz stepped back, leaving a sweet scent in her wake. “Now tell me what’s going on. Start from the beginning.”

“Liz,” Hiro interrupted. “Good timing. I wanted you to hear this.”

“Hear what?”

“Who I really am. I’m sure you must have been curious.”

Liz was silent for a moment. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” she said eventually. “I won’t mind.”

In spite of her words, she couldn’t look him in the eyes. Hiro hesitated for a moment, but then reached out to stroke her head. She seemed as forlorn as a child who’d been separated from her parents. He gave an awkward smile. “It’s fine. I figure it’s about time.”

“All right. As long as you don’t mind,” she said.

“It’s really not that complicated. I’m...” Hiro paused. “I’m a descendant of the second emperor.”

“What?”

“Eh?”

Liz and Tris looked equally astonished.

Telling the truth would require explaining everything from the beginning, including the events of one thousand years ago. Hiro didn’t have that kind of time. He only had half a day to bring them up to speed before they had to leave the next morning. It was simpler just to lie.

“As far as proof goes, I suppose my hair and my eyes are good enough,” he said. “I’m the first in my family to have them since Schwartz.”

Both Liz and Tris stayed silent, listening. Hiro continued, a little self-consciously. “I guess that explains how I managed to get into the Anfang Forest. I technically have royal blood.”

At last, Liz spoke. Her face was oddly grave. “Hiro...do you understand what this means?”

Hiro cocked his head. “What does it mean?”

“If what you’re saying is true, then you have a claim to the throne. You’re an imperial heir.”

“I doubt it. I’m just a distant relation, nothing more.”

“But you do have Mars’s blood?” Liz asked.

Hiro shifted uncomfortably. “I guess...”

“Then that makes you next in line after the royal family. I think.”

Hiro’s brows furrowed. “Wait, what? Why?”

“Because of the first emperor’s will, of course,” Liz said, as though that explained things.

“He left a will?”

“A strange one too.” She cast a glance at Tris, who had been watching in silence.

“‘Those who claim the blood of Schwartz shall be put to the proof at Frieden,’” Tris recited. “‘They whose claim is true shall be furnished with a suitable title. May the Spirit King’s curse fall upon any who defy these words.’”

Artheus, what the hell have you been playing at?

The first emperor always had been astonishingly astute. As likely as not, he’d had an inkling that Hiro might come back someday and made arrangements to ease his future return. That he had foreseen the exact excuse Hiro would make, though... That was a little scary.

“Aren’t you pleased?” Liz took hold of his arm and grinned. “You might end up a royal, just like me!”

If Hiro had been a little less oblivious, he might have noticed her feelings then—might have realized that her interest in him ran deeper than a princess’s curiosity for a stray. But he wasn’t, so he only forced a smile and glanced at Cerberus for help. The wolf turned a sulky cheek. She must have been holding a grudge about before.

“I suppose that’s settled, then. As well as can be for now,” said Tris, rising to his feet. He seemed dissatisfied with Hiro’s story—unsurprisingly, as it didn’t explain any of his strange powers—but with Liz present, he couldn’t push the matter further.

Liz didn’t seem to notice. “A descendant of the second emperor! Who’d have thought? I’m a little disappointed you’re not a spirit, but that’s not important, I suppose.”

She was still hanging on to that? Hiro almost said something, but thought better of it. There was something more important to bring up.

“I know this is a lot to ask,” he said, “but can we keep this whole thing between us?”

“All right,” Liz said. “We have bigger problems to deal with, anyway. Besides, there are still some parts I want to ask you about.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Hiro only had himself to blame, but still, his web of lies was growing more convoluted by the day. He could only hope he didn’t tangle himself in it. Life in this other world was certainly never boring. His thoughts turned to the future, and his mind began to whirl.

＊

Berg Fortress lay in the middle of a vast prairie. The nearest town was a day’s walk away; the border city of Linkus, two days’ ride. This was technically the vanguard of the southern front, although in practice the Grantzian Empire and the Duchy of Lichtein, with their shared interest in Lichtein’s slave trade, had been on good terms for decades. As a result, while Berg Fortress was still in good repair, it was far from impregnable and ill-equipped to withstand a siege.

The ducal army of Lichtein made camp on a small hill some distance from the fortress. Spirits were so high that they hardly seemed like men at war. A few sentries kept watch, but the rest of the soldiers sat on the ground and chatted the day away. They had every reason to be confident: they were up against three thousand men in a fort that would collapse at the first knock. As far as they were concerned, they had as good as won.

As they sat around, looking more like tavern patrons than soldiers—and almost as likely to break out mugs of ale—a rider galloped through their ranks, wearing the red armband of a messenger. He stopped his horse in front of the Lichtein command tent, leaped off, and sprinted to the entrance.

“Let me through!” he cried. “I have urgent news!”

The two guards moved to block his way. “Not so fast, friend,” said one. “I might know your face, but I’ll still need to see your papers.”

“I don’t have time for this! Something terrible has happened!” the messenger cried with no small amount of anger.

The guards glanced at each other and shrugged. “Fine, but if anyone asks, we checked you good.” They turned aside, opening the way.

The messenger hurried into the tent. Several men stood within. All of them turned harsh glares on him as he entered. Under normal circumstances, he would have withered under their gazes, but the urgency of his message gave him courage.

“The advance force has been wiped out!” he announced. “Lord Beil fought heroically, but he perished on the field!”

A hubbub spread through the tent at the news, until—

“Silence.”

A single word, dripping with fury, quelled it. It came from Reihil Lumer Lichtein, firstborn son of the ducal family and Duke Lichtein’s heir apparent.

“What news of my brother’s spirit weapon?”

Beil’s spirit weapon had been worth more than his life, even to his own brother. No spirits dwelled in the Duchy of Lichtein, so the nation had no means of harvesting spirit stones. While it could still buy them, the costs involved would empty its coffers.

“We believe it is now in the hands of the sixth princess.”

Reihil scowled. “Curse that fool. Does his stupidity know no bounds?”

Beil always had cared more about brawn than brains, but even then, Reihil had never expected him to lead three thousand men to defeat. Their intelligence had indicated the princess had no more than a few hundred soldiers at her disposal. Had they been fed false information? Reihil turned a burning glare on the hooded man who had been their informant.

“Is something amiss?” The man’s voice was a lazy drawl.

“You assured me three thousand would be enough!” Reihil exclaimed. “That the princess had no more than a hundred men!”

The hooded figure flared with sudden hostility. “Are you suggesting that I misled you?”

Reihil shrank back. “No, I... That is not what I said. I meant only to question whether some details might have been overlooked.”

“A Spiritblade is not to be taken lightly. This I warned you. Though the sixth princess has not yet mastered its power, Lævateinn in its full glory could slay men by the thousands.”

“Then could she have grown more proficient than you assumed?”

The hooded man shook his head. “That I doubt. Which only raises further questions.” He fell silent, thinking.

Reihil sank into his chair. This was supposed to have been simple: capture the princess and give her to this cowled man. After that, they would raid the Gurinda Mark for what slaves they could take, then return home with their spoils.

I never should have agreed to this, he thought.

He knew this hooded man, if only a little. They had exchanged letters in the past. Several days ago, one such letter had arrived, this time proposing a deal: one hundred golden grantzes and two spirit weapons in exchange for capturing the sixth princess of the Grantzian Empire. Naturally, Reihil dismissed the offer as nonsense, but the letters had kept coming until finally, one arrived with an advance payment of a spirit weapon. At that, Reihil had immediately gone to his father and persuaded the reluctant duke to let him raise an army.

The prospect of the Fourth Legion staying put was just too tempting.

The letters had been very clear on that point. The empire would not retaliate against Lichtein, no matter what destruction Reihil and his brother wreaked on the Gurinda Mark.

If I back out now, I’ll have nothing to show for my efforts but shame.

With his mind made up, Reihil turned his gaze to the hooded man. “You are certain that the sixth princess cannot access her Spiritblade’s true power?” he asked.

A nod. “She cannot. I would stake my life on it.”

“And the Fourth Legion will truly not interfere?”

The hooded man chuckled. “So I said. Do you doubt me?”

“Should I not?” Reihil snapped back. “Your advice just cost me three thousand men and a blasted spirit weapon!”

“Then allow me to assuage your doubts.” The hooded man reached into the darkness of his cloak, pulled out a sword, and laid it on the desk. It was exquisitely decorated with silver and gold: a spirit weapon. “Capture the princess,” he said, “and you shall have another, and a hundred more golden grantzes into the bargain.”

Reihil stiffened. The offer comprised more wealth than he could have imagined.

“And this, too, as a show of good faith.” The hooded man held out his hand. In his fingers he held a small, round pellet, roughly the size of a berry.

Reihil looked at it warily. “What is that?”

“An elixir to enhance the power of spirit weapons. Try it and you’ll understand.”

Reihil peered at the pellet curiously. He had never heard of such a thing. He shot the hooded man a distrustful glance. “It’s not poison, I hope?”

The hooded man snorted. “All medicines are poisons. Throw it into a river if you do not trust me. I will not force it on you.”

Reihil looked down at the spirit weapon on the desk. His mouth curled into a grin. “No, I trust you.” He tossed the pellet into his mouth and swallowed. A moment passed, then he looked himself over. “Am I supposed to feel something?”

“Its effects will take three days to make themselves apparent.”

Reihil thought for a moment. “I see. Then we shall march on Berg Fortress in three days’ time.”

“That would be in both our interests.” The hooded man got up from his chair. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must take my leave.” Just before he left the tent, he paused and turned around. “I trust you are already aware, but should you disappoint me...there will be consequences.”

Reihil spun around in alarm, but the man was already gone.

＊

On the first day of the sixth month of Imperial Year 1023, the sixth princess and her company arrived at Berg Fortress. Though the fort was technically under siege, its immediate surroundings were clear of enemy forces. The ducal army had set up camp some distance away, content to maintain its silent standoff with the imperial troops.

Tris signaled to the sentries and the gate opened. The party ventured inside. They found themselves in a large central courtyard, mostly used for training. To the east were the officers’ quarters, and to the west, longhouses that served as the soldiers’ barracks. A central tower—housing the war room, the bathhouse, the mess hall, and other such facilities—rose over the courtyard to the north. It was this tower that the garrison escorted them into. After a climb up a spiral staircase and a short walk along a corridor, they arrived at the fort’s war room.

A map of Soleil adorned the western wall, with a world map alongside it. In the center of the room was a long table, surrounded by chairs for ten. The window overlooked the courtyard. Two flags stood beside it: a golden lion on a white field, and a red rose on a brown field.

The room’s three occupants stood up as they arrived and bowed politely. A genteel nobleman with a bearded chin was the first to approach. His well-polished armor clanked a little as he drew Liz into a close embrace.

“I am glad to find you safe, Elizabeth. How you’ve grown since last I saw you!”

“Uncle von Gurinda!” Liz exclaimed delightedly. “It’s been far too long!”

As Hiro watched them rejoice in their reunion, he felt someone else’s gaze burning into him. He turned to find a dainty young girl staring at him. Her silver hair shone as it caught the sunlight streaming through the window. With her small, round face and doe eyes, she inspired the same protective instincts as a small mammal. Her neatly trimmed bangs, clipped just low enough to hide her eyebrows, only served to accentuate the effect. Perhaps because of her leaden gray eyes, or perhaps because of her impassive expression, she seemed to emanate a chilly air.

Hiro would have called himself short, but this girl was shorter. She wore a black military uniform, but the sleeves were so long that they flopped over her hands. Her jacket was so large on her that she seemed in danger of getting lost inside it.

Is she a soldier? She seems way too young for that.

The book in her hand looked familiar. Hiro tried to remember where he’d seen it before, but the girl stepped forward impatiently, interrupting his thoughts.

“Who are you?” she asked. Her presence had an ethereal quality—she seemed half in her own little world, and her expressionless eyes seemed to look through as much as at him.

“Impossible...” someone breathed. From next to where the girl had been standing, a dashing, brown-haired young man stared at Hiro in astonishment.

What’s this about? Hiro wondered, cocking his head quizzically, but then there came a tug on his sleeve, bringing his attention back to the girl in front of him.

“Who are you?” she repeated, this time more insistently.

“Me? I’m no one. Just an ordinary commoner,” he said. “My name’s Hiro.”

“Hiro... Hiro... Hiro...? Hiro, Hiro, Hiro...” She turned his name over in her mouth. Hiro could only smile awkwardly. She was making it sound like a bird call of some kind.

“I see,” the girl concluded, nodding to herself in satisfaction. She rummaged around for a moment, then one pale hand emerged from her oversized sleeves. It held a small, paper-wrapped bundle.

“Here. A Schwartz dumpling. For you.”

“Uh...thanks.” Hiro took it. Apparently, they had dumplings in this world. You learned something new every day, he supposed.

The bun had grown unpleasantly warm during its time in the girl’s pocket, to the point that he hesitated to eat it. A certain kind of person might have jumped at the chance, though.

The brown-haired young man was glaring at Hiro so fiercely, his eyes seemed about to pop out of his head. If Hiro offered him a handshake now, the other man might actually pull a sword.

The silver-haired girl’s sleeve flopped as she gestured to herself, oblivious to Hiro’s discomfort. “Treya Verdan Aura von Bunadala,” she said. “Brigadier General. Call me Aura.”

“Nice to meet you.” Hiro inclined his head politely, a little taken aback. Who was this oddly high-ranking child? A thought struck him. He raised his head and looked her over.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Um...can I ask you something?”

“If you like.” She cocked her head. Her impassive expression made the gesture particularly endearing.

“Are you this Athena I’ve heard about?”

“I am.”

She replied without a hint of hesitation. It was only the subtlest of changes, but at the sound of her epithet, a hint of pride suffused her face and her eyes seemed to grow a little less stern.

So this was Athena, the Warmaiden, the girl who took her name from Hiro’s own onetime moniker of the War God. A veritable wunderkind chosen to advise Third Prince Brutahl at a historically young age, who served as chief strategist at the tender age of seventeen. He had not imagined she would be so...small. It was astonishing to think that she was older than him.

She’s definitely not what I imagined...

As he wrestled with this knowledge, Aura suddenly lurched sideways with a startled “Bwah?!” Hiro hurriedly turned in the direction she had gone to find Liz pinning her on the floor, rubbing her cheek on Aura’s face.

“Awww, aren’t you just the cutest little thing! How are your cheeks so soft?!”

Aura responded only with silence.

“So you’re the Warmaiden! It all makes sense now! That adorable face would beat me any day!”

Aura looked thoroughly fed up but made no effort to resist. Perhaps she was hesitant to defy a princess—even one acting inappropriately—or perhaps she had simply decided that fighting back was more trouble than it was worth. Either way, despite her passivity, she clearly wasn’t enjoying Liz’s attentions. Hiro decided to intervene.

“Leave her alone, Liz. You’re annoying her.”

“But she’s so squishy!” Liz’s eyes flashed with rage.

Hiro fell back, begging forgiveness for interrupting. Purely voluntarily, of course—nothing whatsoever to do with him suddenly fearing for his life. He mentally apologized to Aura, who was glaring up at him vengefully, and resigned himself to letting Liz have her way.

Liz’s genteel uncle chose that moment to approach. “A pleasure to meet you,” he said. “I’m certain Elizabeth has mentioned me, but allow me to formally introduce myself.”

He extended a hand for Hiro to shake. His fingers looked slender, but to Hiro’s surprise, they were rather rough to the touch. This man was no stranger to physical labor.

“I am Rugen Kiork von Gurinda, margrave of the Gurinda Mark, but please, call me Uncle Kiork.”

“I’m Hiro,” Hiro said. “I’d prefer just Kiork, if you don’t mind.” This man was altogether far too debonair for “uncle” to feel appropriate.

“Too early by half, it seems,” Kiork sighed under his breath, too quietly for Hiro to hear. He politely excused himself and headed over to Cerberus and Tris.

The brown-haired man from earlier quickly took Kiork’s place. “Well, congratulations,” he said to Hiro. “Between you, you’ve managed to turn a perfectly serious meeting into a farce. Granted, we perhaps needed the levity given the circumstances, but still. What’s spoiled is spoiled.”

He thrust out his hand with a disdainful sniff. Hiro took it, marveling at his prickly attitude.

“I am Laurence Alfred von Spitz,” the man said. “Viscount, second class military tribune, aide to Lady Aura...and Lord von Spitz to you.”

The Grantzian Empire’s military tribunes mostly comprised government officials who specialized in military affairs. There were also civil tribunes, similar but for their expertise leaning more towards politics. Tribunes were organized into six classes, from first class to sixth; the first, second, and third classes were collectively called senior tribunes, while the fourth, fifth and sixth classes were junior tribunes. Tris, incidentally, was a third class military tribune.

“I’m just going to call you Alfred,” Hiro said.

“If you wish.”

“Well...all right, then.” Hiro had been certain the proposal would turn the man apoplectic, but apparently not. Perhaps he had been a little childish.

“After all, the nobility can hardly stoop to acknowledge the provocations of the commonfolk,” von Spitz continued sourly.

Hiro internally took back any credit he had given the man. “Of course. Should have guessed. Anyway, can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“If you’re Aura’s aide, shouldn’t you be doing something about...that?”

Von Spitz folded his arms imperiously. “Do you not understand what it means to be nobleborn? Commoners I may order about with impunity, but Her Highness? Never.” That was a rather pathetic admission when one thought about it, but he seemed not to care. “Besides, do they not make for a wonderful sight? Two lovely maidens, intimately entangled. I see nothing to complain about.”

If anyone’s making this a farce, it’s you, Hiro thought.

In the end, he succeeded in peeling Liz away from Aura. Soon enough, everybody took their seats at the table.

Liz was the first to speak. “So what brings the Warmaiden all the way here?” she asked, tilting her head curiously. “Shouldn’t you be with the Third?”

Von Spitz stiffened. All of a sudden, he became very keen on avoiding eye contact. Hiro narrowed his eyes at the man, watching his every movement.

“Allow me to explai— Oof!” Von Spitz shot to his feet, but he only got a few words out before a long sleeve slapped him across the face. At the other end was Aura, glaring fiercely.

“Sit down,” she said. “I’ll tell them.”

“Of course, my lady.” Von Spitz collapsed back into his chair as his knees buckled under the weight of her gaze. Beside him, Aura got to her feet. She took a small breath, then turned to Liz.

“We were sent here to capture you, Your Highness.”

Who marked the small pop that broke the silence then? The peculiar sound of the air tearing in two? Though it rippled through the room, perhaps it blended too well into the ambient noise. Only Hiro, with the abyss in his eyes, knew it for what it was. Space split apart at his fingertips to disgorge a faintly glowing pommel. The conviction in his eyes spoke plain: depending on what Aura did next, he was prepared to draw Excalibur.

Happily, things did not come to that. “Don’t worry,” Aura said. “I mean to do no such thing.”

With those words, a great tension seemed to drain from the room.

Liz’s uncle was the next to speak. “Though for a while hostilities between us seemed inevitable, in view of Lichtein’s incursion, we have negotiated an armistice. To my shame, it was Countess von Bunadala here who first alerted me to the threat.” He paused for a moment, then continued in a lower voice. “Imagine my surprise when they arrived on my doorstep flying the white flag. At first, I suspected some manner of trickery, before their messenger enlightened me as to Lichtein’s activities.”

“This is no time for imperial citizens to squabble amongst each other,” Aura supplied. “Anyone would have done the same.”

“Perhaps so. Though we might bicker—and bicker we do—the Grantzian Empire must always be united in the face of outside threats. Though not all fit that mold, it seems...” Kiork paused for a moment. “In any case, that’s how I defeated the illustrious Warmaiden,” he concluded proudly.

Aura’s brows furrowed in distaste. “You didn’t defeat me. We never fought.”

She puffed out her cheeks a little—rather adorably, Hiro thought, smiling wryly as he looked on. Beside him, Liz’s gaze was focused on Aura intently, but eventually she abandoned whatever avenue her thoughts were going down and set a thoughtful finger to her chin.

“Hm? Oh, that’s right! Uncle, shouldn’t the Fourth Legion be here?”

“I have written to them time and time again, but they have yet to reply.” Kiork looked around the room. “Come to think of it, where is Sir Dios? I do not see him with you.” A hush fell over the group, but he didn’t seem to notice. “I sent him ahead to meet you at Fort Alt. Could it be that you missed each other?”

Seeing the sorrow in Liz’s eyes, he finally noticed his misstep, but it was too late. What had been said could not be unsaid. An awkward silence fell. Eventually, Tris spoke, his face pained.

“We found the ducal army waiting for us on the border. They... They had hostages.”

“I see.” Kiork’s face fell. He sank back into his chair. He must have known that the enemy’s advance force was headed to Fort Alt, but seeing that Liz was safe, he must have assumed that Dios was too. “I swore to him that we would meet again. An oath it seems I can no longer keep.”

Hiro glanced at Aura to find her wide-eyed with astonishment.

“It can’t be,” she whispered. “The Ogre, gone?”

Bitter regret spread across Kiork’s face. “If only we hadn’t let their vanguard pass unhindered.”

Von Spitz broke in. “We have nothing to gain from arguing over if-onlys. In waylaying those three thousand men, we would have exposed our backs to twelve. It would have meant our deaths.”

The rest of the room had no choice but to admit he was right. Abandoning Berg Fortress to pursue Lichtein’s advance force would at best have exposed their rear to the larger foe, and at worst seen them pincered between the two enemy armies. They had to deal with the twelve thousand first, then go after the three—though even that was much easier said than done.

“But you routed them,” Aura added. “Word must have reached the enemy by now too. It’s made them cautious. That’s why they aren’t attacking.”

Hiro nodded in agreement. The enemy had surely seen Liz enter Berg Fortress, and yet they still hadn’t made a move. The recent shock of losing three thousand men to fewer than a hundred must have made them wary. Either that or there was some other reason they were holding back...

“We might be low on time, but we’re not out of options,” Hiro said. Myriad schemes coalesced in his mind. The question was, how was he to present them to the others? The next moment, however, something happened to ensure he wouldn’t have to. Aura turned to the rest of the table, smoldering with a quiet determination.

“We’ll take the fight to them,” she said. Small fires burned in her leaden gray eyes.

Kiork sat upright and turned to her. “You have a plan?”

“We’ll lead a sortie from the fortress.”

“We only have three thousand men,” the margrave protested. “We can’t fight them head-on.”

“We won’t have three thousand. You and the princess stay here. Something might go wrong.”

That would leave her with two thousand men against twelve. For a moment, Hiro doubted his ears, but von Spitz’s proud nodding told him he hadn’t misheard.

Kiork sighed deeply. “This is madness. If we must fight, we ought to fight together.”

“I can do this,” Aura replied. “Trust me.”

She refused to be swayed. They tried several times to talk her out of her plan, but she flatly rejected every argument they made.

Hiro wasn’t privy to all the details, but he could guess her rationale. First, it would be difficult to coordinate her forces with the other troops. The Fourth’s men had been trained differently than Gurinda’s standing army, and besides, Aura had brought cavalry while the Gurinda men were mostly infantry. In the coming battle, they would need to be able to accentuate each other’s strengths while covering for their weaknesses, but they hadn’t a hope of achieving that without shared training. And secondly, Aura likely felt responsible for bringing chaos to the Gurinda Mark. Hiro suspected that this was her attempt to make amends.

In the end, he gave up on convincing her to take another course. The gathering broke up with the agreement that they would reconvene the next day and the unspoken understanding that they would try again to persuade her then.

＊

It’s not like it matters, though. She’s not going to be talked out of it.

Half of Aura’s recalcitrance was sheer stubbornness, but the other half was rooted in duty, and that would make it difficult to change her mind. Hiro grimaced as he took off his uniform and threw it into the wicker hamper.

That aside, I never expected to find a balnea here...

In the basement of Berg Fortress’s central tower was a bathhouse, mostly used by the officer class. Even more surprisingly, it was naturally heated, apparently fed by an underground spring. Hiro washed the grime off his skin and got into the bath, breathing a sigh of relief as he sank into the warm water.

“Wow, there’s steam everywhere!”

“It looks hot...”

Two familiar female voices echoed through the room. Hiro flinched and turned around. Standing there, without a shred of clothing on, was not only Liz, but Aura too.

“How’s the water? Not too hot?” Liz grinned as she approached. Behind her, Aura stiffened as she noticed him. Her face flushed with embarrassment.

“Oh, it’s perfect!” Liz exclaimed. “Whoops, better wash myself down first!” She bent over, picked up a washbasin, and began to pour water over her naked body.

“What are you doing here?” Hiro asked.

She looked confused. “I want a bath, obviously.”

“That’s not what I’m asking. I mean, what are you doing here while I’m here?”

“I thought we could take a bath together. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

For a moment Hiro wondered if she even registered him as a member of the opposite sex, but he had bigger problems right now. He glanced at Aura. Unlike Liz, she was bright red and currently engaged in a flustered attempt to cover herself with her hands.

“Hey,” he said hesitantly. “You’re, uh...here for a bath too, huh?”

She said nothing, only stared at him. From the corner of his eye, he saw Liz step into the bath.

“Mmm, that feels great!” she exclaimed before wading up beside him and splashing him playfully. The room was filled with steam, but it could only hide so much. What was there was there.

“Stop standing around and come in!” Liz called out to Aura. “The water’s lovely!”

Aura stared back in disbelief for a moment, but then steeled herself and, with a little run-up, plunged into the water.

“Hey! You’re supposed to wash yourself first!” Liz scolded her, still oblivious to the elephant in the room.

If Liz bathes like a cat, I guess Aura’s more of a dog, Hiro mused as water rained down around him.

＊

As Hiro had expected, Aura proved just as stubborn the following morning. In the end, he and the rest gave up on talking her out of her sortie and resigned themselves to watching from the top of the fortress’s central tower. The tower rooftop was high enough to command a view of the entire battlefield, but the sunlight up there was fierce. Before long, they were all sweating.

To distract himself, Hiro looked down at the central courtyard, where three hundred cavalry and seven hundred infantry stood in neat ranks. If anything went wrong, these soldiers would immediately ride to Aura’s aid. On the other side of the gate, Aura’s two-thousand-strong host was organizing itself into a curious formation.

“Do you think she’ll be all right?” a worried voice asked from Hiro’s side. He turned around to see Liz looking down on the battlefield with concern. “I still think we’d be better off dragging this out into a siege.”

“That wouldn’t be a good idea,” he replied. “The fortress isn’t exactly sturdy—that’s obvious even from the outside. If they kept up the offensive, we couldn’t hold them off for long.”

“Not even until the Fourth Legion arrives?”

“I don’t think so, no. Besides, we shouldn’t pin our hopes on them. For all we know, they might not be coming at all.”

“I guess...” Liz’s face fell and her shoulders slumped, but she quickly rebounded. “Then why aren’t we out there fighting too? Maybe it wouldn’t improve our chances that much, but shouldn’t we be doing everything we can?”

“Aura’s soldiers are a lot more disciplined than the Gurinda men,” Hiro answered. “If we fought together, we might get in their way, and if we fought apart, the enemy would just isolate us and pick us off.”

“Hmm...this is all so tricky.”

“It wouldn’t be so much of a problem if we had equal numbers, but no such luck this time.”

Defeating twelve thousand men with two thousand was almost impossible under the best of circumstances. An incompetent commander would doom the attempt from the start. Yet as Hiro looked down at Aura’s strange formation, a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. All two thousand of her troops were heavy cavalry, arranged with five cohorts of one hundred men apiece in front of the remaining fifteen hundred. To charge at the enemy like that would be the height of foolishness...but that wasn’t what Aura was planning.

I see. She’s using the Trident.

It had been a long time since Hiro had last seen that formation. A surge of nostalgia rose within him as he gazed down on it. Now more than ever, he felt that he was truly back in Aletia.

Aura’s front lines began to move, signaling the start of the battle.

＊

The two thousand black-clad cavalry advanced south, slowly but steadily. They were the pride of the Third Legion, the Knights of the Royal Black. Their horses, encased up to their heads in sturdy armor, left a cloud of dust in their wake. The riders astride them wore black plate from head to toe. Every last one was as bulky as a bear. Their standards fluttered in the wind, adorned with a sword and shield on a violet field.

A battle cry rose from the enemy forces, but it carried an edge of apprehension. One could hardly blame them: they faced Aura von Bunadala, the Warmaiden, the Third Legion’s renowned wunderkind chief strategist. There was no man in Soleil who was unaware of her reputation.

The Lichtein forces placed their archers at the fore and waited for the knights to approach. Their faces bore mocking sneers, and for good reason. The imperial forces comprised only cavalry, and armored cavalry at that, which was lumbering and slow to maneuver. The archers nocked and loosed their arrows, a cloud of them darkening the sky in an instant.

What the enemy expected in that moment—for their foes to fall, or for their arrows to break upon that black armor—there was no way to know. Either way, it did not come to pass. With a small smile, Aura thrust her left hand upward. A drumbeat echoed across the battlefield. Her men stopped dead. The arrows rained down almost before the front line’s noses, but astoundingly, not a single one found its mark.

“That’s our opening. Vanguard, forward.”

Aura raised her right hand to the sky, then swung it down. The drum beat three times. The vanguard drove their heels into their horses’ flanks and surged forward, steel shields at the ready. Their five cohorts stretched vertically as they charged, becoming five slim columns. The enemy archers unleashed another volley, but they struggled to find their aim. Most of their arrows lodged harmlessly in the dirt. The rest bounced off the knights’ shields.

Could they have aimed for the horses, perhaps? But the horses, too, were clad in armor. The eyes, then, or the legs—that was the only way, but their attack lacked a sense of flow, as though their commanding officers were panicking.

As Aura listened to the thunder of hooves, von Spitz pulled up next to her. “The officers have their orders, my lady.”

She turned to him. “Then advance. But carefully. We don’t want them to realize what we’re doing.”

“At once, my lady!” Von Spitz swept his arm sideways with two fingers raised. The officers registered the signal. Their main force began to move forward.

Armored horses and full plate made for a sturdy bulwark, but no defense was absolute. Launch enough arrows and some will inevitably find their mark. As the vanguard charged ahead, several of their number toppled to the ground, where further arrows finished them off. Aura snorted in distaste as she looked on.

“On to the next stage. Ready the drum,” she commanded.

“Yes, my lady!” Von Spitz raised his right arm in the air, signaling to the knights behind them. They readied their drumsticks.

“We’ll seize the initiative while they’re still reeling.”

Aura swept her right arm to the side. Twice the drum beat. Two standards rose. Two cohorts of the vanguard merged, whereupon they turned along an arc towards the enemy’s left flank. They would draw the enemy’s attention to the left, while...

“Next,” Aura intoned, sweeping her left arm to the side. Again, the drum beat twice. This time, four standards rose. Two more cohorts merged and wheeled towards the enemy’s right flank.

“Finish it.” She brought her hands together, setting her long sleeves flapping in the wind. The drum beat five times. Five standards rose.

“Let’s see how you like this.”

The final cohort plunged valiantly into the middle of the ducal line. At the same time, the others slammed into the flanks. The enemy tried to withdraw their archers, but too late. The heavy cavalry’s lances mowed the bowmen down in droves. Chaos spread through the enemy ranks: just the opening Aura was looking for.

“All units, charge.”

She drew her sword from her hip and raised it to the sky. Her spirit weapon caught the light of the sun, transforming the battlefield into a vision of valiant beauty.

Seeing his goddess in her full glory, von Spitz drew his own sword. “All units, charge!” he bellowed. “Bring our Warmaiden her victory!”

A deafening roar rose from the soldiers. Fifteen hundred lances clattered against fifteen hundred shields. Von Spitz rode abreast of the clamor as he charged ahead. Five hundred knights thundered after him, radiating an aura of pure indomitability.

The left and right columns of the main force peeled off to the sides, mirroring the pincer movement of the vanguard. Meanwhile, the three points of the vanguard had converged in the middle of the enemy army and were driving inwards as one, like a spear seeking a heart. The Lichtein front lines saw fifteen hundred knights approaching, but their army was too large for the information to proliferate fast enough.

The armies slammed together. Many ducal soldiers were still looking the other way when the maw of von Spitz’s five hundred closed on their lines. Men fell beneath hooves and died in sprays of gore. The human wall of the ducal army broke like a treeline before a storm surge as the knights thundered on and through, single-mindedly following the path the vanguard had forged. To either side, the left and right columns did the same, barreling through the enemy flanks to reconvene in the middle of the army.

“Keep going! Cut right through to their center— Wha?!” Von Spitz’s roar turned into a yelp as he glanced sideways.

“Pay attention, Sir Spitz. Don’t you value your life?”

Aura should have been back in the safety of the rear, but there she was, riding calmly beside him. She brandished her spirit weapon with ease, claiming lives left and right.

“Have you lost your mind?!” von Spitz cried. “You’re not safe here!”

“I have a spirit weapon. Right now, I’m stronger than you.”

“Be that as it may, there’s no telling what might happen! You must return to—” Von Spitz glanced behind him only to find that enemy soldiers had already blocked their retreat. Their numbers were far too great for Aura to break through alone. The left and right columns had already joined them; all that remained now was to catch up with the vanguard and crush the enemy’s core.

He relented. “Very well, but you mustn’t leave my side!” At this point, the only way out was to break through the other end. Besides, Aura’s presence alone inspired the troops. With the Warmaiden herself fighting with them, how could they lose?

At that moment, something wet spattered on Aura’s cheek. Her brows furrowed as she looked up at the sky.

“We’re running out of time.”

Black clouds had swallowed the blue. Now they were beginning to devour the sun too, for all its proud glory.

The warm wind hung heavy with the scent of death and the promise of rain.

＊＊＊

The observers at Berg Fortress, too, felt the change in the air. The rising wind took hold of Liz’s crimson hair and made it dance. She held it down with one hand as she turned to Hiro.

“They’re incredible!” she exclaimed, pointing at the “trident” sinking deep into the enemy forces. “Look, they’ve almost reached the commander!”

Hiro nodded. “They certainly are. It’s a modified strategy, but they’ve pulled it off.”

“What do you mean?”

“The real Trident uses infantry to open up the enemy formation, but Aura did it all with cavalry. You’d have to be a genius or mad to try that. One wrong move and you’d be wiped out.”

The Trident was never designed for use against such overwhelming odds in the first place. Its success owed at least as much to the soldiers’ discipline as to Aura herself; the strategy hinged on the three prongs of the vanguard rejoining smoothly to channel their momentum into an explosive charge. Even so, Aura’s efficacy as she drove her forces into the enemy’s distracted front line was a sight to behold. Her command of the battlefield was nothing short of artful. Hiro was grateful he was on her side to admire her handiwork. She would make a maddening opponent.

“Do you think they can do it?” Liz asked.

“Probably. As long as nothing goes wrong.”

It was still too early for Hiro to voice his misgivings. For now, everything was going to plan. Aura and her knights would crack open the enemy’s center, kill the commander, and escape through the other side. After that, it would be simple to rout the terrified rank and file. There was only one doubt in his mind...

What if the enemy commander is too strong to kill?

Once upon a time, he had five champions at his command called the Black Hand. When he had used this strategy himself, it was their prowess at the vanguard that had allowed it to succeed. Did Aura have five warriors of equal caliber among her men?

And soon, they’ll have another problem...

Looking at the sky only filled him with more unease. Before long, the heavens would begin to weep, turning the ground to mud. Aura’s cavalry were already weighed down by their armor as it was. In mud, they would not be half as threatening.

He gazed down at the battlefield, where the Knights of the Royal Black were carving a dark swathe through the middle of the enemy host. It made for a spellbinding sight, like a black dragon ascending to the heavens.

“Liz? Could you ask Kiork to get his men ready? Not to move out yet, but just in case.”

They had to be ready to ride to Aura’s aid at a moment’s notice. Anybody could make a mistake, anywhere, at any time, and all the more so when caught unawares. It was only human. Still, an enemy with their back to the wall would capitalize on such an opening without mercy. Nobody wants to die, after all.

“Of course.” To his relief, Liz readily agreed. In his current position, this was all he could do.

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

He watched her dash off to speak to Kiork. Above their heads, the stormy clouds hung low, a forbidding shadow spreading over the prairie.

＊

The battlefield was a vision of turmoil. Though it was still midmorning, the sky was dark, with the sun obscured by heavy clouds. Beneath its absent gaze, a company of black-garbed knights carved a path through an army many times their number. Their foes’ screams vanished beneath the drumming of hooves. Their charge formed a thin, black line, creeping ever closer to the heart of the enemy army, and yet with every passing second, the rain falling from above slowed them a little more. Before long, those droplets grew to swollen drops that turned the earth to mud, arresting the knights’ momentum entirely.

Von Spitz turned to his commander, his brown hair slick with rain. “What do we do, my lady?!”

“The commander must be close,” Aura said. “We’ll take his head and break away, then return to the fortress.”

“As I feared...”

“I won’t be reckless. If it seems too dangerous, I’ll fall back at once.”

“Yes, my lady!”

Aura scanned the enemy lines, searching for the enemy commander. Though visibility was poor in the heavy rain, she squinted through it as best she could, seeking the thread that would lead them to victory. Her horse’s armored chest knocked men aside, but not even that could break her concentration.

Here was a soldier wheeling around to face her in alarm. There was another, staring at her in wide-eyed terror. There was a third readying to meet their charge, his face twisted into a bestial snarl. None were the man she sought. One by one, she cut them all out of her mind—and then, at last, she found him, like a glimmer of light in the darkness.

“I see him. With me!”

Though she was usually soft-spoken, she now shouted to her men. She raised her spirit weapon high and drove her heels into her horse’s flanks. Von Spitz’s breath caught in his throat for a moment at the sight, but then he remembered himself and galloped after her with all his might, changing out his sword for a spear as he went.

“Knights of the Royal Black!” he roared at the top of his lungs. “Follow your lady!”

The knights gave answer not with their voices, but with redoubled fury. They slaughtered the ducal soldiers in their way, one after the other, sending blood spraying through the air as they consigned them to the afterlife. Aura felt their fervor at her back, pushing her onwards as she rode. Warmth blossomed in her rain-chilled hands.

Empowered by her spirit weapon’s blessing, she cut through the soldiers guarding the enemy commander. Those remaining soon learned to keep their distance, wary of being crushed beneath her horse’s hooves. They were only conscripts in the end, ignoble brutes come in search of slaves. They had no higher cause to uphold, no great ambition to fight for. She would not suffer such men to ravage imperial lands.

“I dedicate this victory to Emperor Schwartz.”

Aura’s spirit weapon glinted in the dull light. Shock spread across the enemy commander’s face, replaced quickly by dismay.

The blade took him underneath the chin. A nauseating shudder passed through Aura’s hands as she followed through, utilizing her horse’s momentum to swing clear. The man’s head rolled from his shoulders and into the mud. His body, huge but guileless, crumpled to the ground. Aura watched for long enough to be certain he was dead, then raised her spirit weapon to the skies.

“The commander is slain!” she cried.

Her allies behind her raised a great cheer. A shudder of despair passed through the nearby Lichtein forces.

“Sir Spitz! Retrieve his head!”

Killing the enemy commander would mean nothing without proof of his demise. If his death were concealed, his soldiers would continue to fight, leaving Aura and her knights to contend with all ten thousand of them. It was imperative that they retrieve his head so they could alert the battlefield to his death. Aura cast a glance back at the corpse—and her eyes widened in surprise.

“It can’t be!”

As she watched, the decapitated body rose to its feet and picked its own head up from the ground. A thrill of fear passed through her. Whatever this was, it wasn’t human. No human being could survive beheading.

Aura was quick to act. One word filled her brain: “retreat.” She forced a strangled scream from her mouth. “Sir Spitz! Fall ba—”

Her cry cut off in sudden alarm. The enemy commander replaced his head and lunged for her, sword in hand. She hurriedly raised her spirit weapon to block, but the commander’s swing knocked it aside with a clang. Her small body sailed easily through the air to plow into the muck, where it rolled to a stop. Her horse was not so lucky: the swing sheared off its head, armor and all. It collapsed sideways, spraying blood from the red ruin of its neck.

The man turned his unfocused eyes to Aura’s motionless body. As he stared into nothingness, his lips parted.

“Know your place, girl.”

He strode towards her, resting his gem-studded sword on his shoulder.

“My lady!”

Von Spitz charged to her aid, striking out with his lance, only for the enemy commander to catch the blow between his arm and his torso. Von Spitz cried out in surprise as he found himself lifted up and smashed into the ground. The impact sent a plume of water into the sky, though it was hardly noticeable in the now torrential rain. As von Spitz lay groaning in pain, unable to breathe, the enemy commander stomped down viciously on his chest. Again and again the boot fell until a great gout of blood burst from his mouth.

Attempting to save the beleaguered knight, a nearby soldier charged furiously at the enemy commander. He raised a battle cry as he thrust forward with his lance.

“Worm!”

With sickening ease, the commander drove his sword through the soldier’s face. The man toppled from his horse, dead before he hit the ground. His valiant sacrifice bought his vice-commander a reprieve, but von Spitz was beyond taking advantage of the opening. He lay motionless on his back, the pitiless rain spreading his own blood across his face.

At that moment, Aura rose unsteadily to her feet. She cradled her left arm with her right as it dangled uselessly, mud dripping from its sleeve. It hardly took a doctor to tell that it was broken; that much was plain to see in the agony on her face.

“A spirit weapon?” she murmured. Through eyes that struggled to focus, she registered the sword in the huge man’s hand.

But even that doesn’t account for this...

A spirit weapon’s blessing was powerful, but it couldn’t heal a severed head. Only a Spiritblade, with its invested spirit, might be capable of such a feat, or perhaps...

One of the five Noble Blades? But it can’t be. That’s clearly just an ordinary spirit weapon. It can’t have that kind of power.

As Aura’s thoughts whirled, enemy soldiers began to surround her. The Knights of the Royal Black rode in a protective circle around her to ward them away, but they would not last for long. As formidable as they were, the rain would fatally slow them down. Besides, they were vastly outnumbered and, worst of all, collected in one place. Their momentum had been their greatest advantage, and now it was gone.

The enemy commander’s eyes swiveled independently in their sockets as he surveyed the field. Aura’s stomach turned at the sight.

“Not abandoning your men? How noble of you. You must be the Warmaiden.” The man’s purple lips twisted into a full-faced leer, revealing his teeth. “A pity you are not to my taste, but I will capture you nonetheless. Oh, don’t look at me so. I’m no monster. I’ll set you free...once I’ve sold you for a fat ransom...”

Raindrops burst on his sword as it slashed through the air. A nearby knight valiantly lunged at him in Aura’s defense, but he was cut down with ease.

“...and once my men have had their turn!”

A squadron of Knights of the Royal Black barreled towards the man furiously, determined not to let him lay a finger on their mistress.

“Give us but a moment, Lady Aura!” one cried. “We will clear the way, no matter the cost!”

The enemy commander burst into laughter. “Good, good! Very gallant! Very well, who wants to die first? With a spirit weapon in my hands, I’m unstoppable!”

For a moment, Aura thought she had misheard. A spirit weapon’s blessing was certainly strong, but the power now coursing through this man’s veins was nothing of the sort. Of that she was certain. Even so, there was no denying the nightmarish spectacle unfolding before her eyes. The knights lopped off the commander’s hand, ran him through, hewed off his leg, but still he butchered them. He didn’t even seem to notice his injuries.

“More! More! I’ll take you on, every last one of you!”

“Stand firm! Let no harm come to Lady Aura!”

They fought unflinchingly to the bitter end, even as their comrades fell around them in sprays of blood and gore. Yet the end did come. With a grunt of glee, the enemy commander drove his sword through the last knight’s chest, knocking the man from his horse. Then, he tilted his head to the sky, shoulders back and chest heaving.

“Hah. Not a bad fight for a warm-up.”

Piles of corpses lay around him, marking where the squadron of knights had met their end. Countless wounds scored his body, all of them mortal, but as Aura watched, they knit back together in real time.

Aura leveled her sword at him. “That power of yours. What is it?”

“My spirit weapon, you mean?”

The Duchy of Lichtein had never produced a single spirit stone. The arid climate was the biggest reason; the land was mostly desert. Not that it was devoid of sites where spirits might gather—the desert was dotted with idyllic oases—but those oases attracted people too, and where people gathered, settlements rose. For spirits, with their love of tranquil places, Lichtein had nothing to offer, and the blood-soaked air of a slave nation would have driven them away even if it had.

Perhaps the commander had bought this weapon from elsewhere, then...but the Duchy of Lichtein had no such money to spare. One spirit stone was worth a lifetime of leisure, and unlike Spiritblades, with their invested spirits, spirit weapons did not last forever. They could break after only a few blows, and a single slip of the blacksmith’s hammer could render them no better than common rocks. Though their power was undeniable, a nation would be far better served spending its budget on mundane arms and armor. Even in the mighty Grantzian Empire, only the royal family and their most devoted retainers carried spirit weapons.

“I’m curious where that came from,” Aura said. “But no. Your other power.”

“Stay your babble, girl. Stalling for time will not save you.”

“You don’t realize what’s happened to you, do you? Or no, perhaps you do. You just can’t recognize it as unnatural anymore.”

“Spew any more nonsense and I’ll lose my temper—and you won’t like that. Besides, look around you. See what is becoming of your precious knights.”

The battle around them was descending into chaos as the ducal soldiers began to drag the Knights of the Royal Black from their steeds. The unhorsed knights scrambled back to their feet only to find themselves vastly outnumbered. One by one, they were surrounded and picked off. Their numbers slowly dwindled. Blood seeped from their armored corpses to stain the mud.

“Not long now, girl. Soon, you’ll be singing a sweeter tune. But until then...I’ll have myself a little fun!”

The air screamed as the enemy commander swung his sword in a wide swat. Aura caught the blow with her own spirit weapon, but the sheer force of it sent her small body flying. As she crumpled to the ground, the commander landed a vicious kick in her side. Mud filled her mouth before she could cry out. Once, twice, thrice she bounced across the ground. By the time she rolled to a stop, she was barely conscious.

She groaned weakly. Her men were fighting for their lives. She couldn’t let them down. That thought lit a fire in her belly. Yet as she tried to push herself upright, the strength left her arms and she collapsed. As she lay there, her face half-submerged in a puddle, she felt something wet trickle from her eyes. Perhaps she was crying. Beneath the merciless downpour, it was hard to tell.

The enemy commander strode up to her fallen body. He seized her roughly by the hair and wrenched her head upright.

“Passing out already? A blessing, I suppose. You’ll not want to be awake when my men have their way with you.”

Aura looked at him blankly.

“Well, not to worry. I’ll make sure they’re gentle. I’ll still have to ransom you once they’re done.”

Still she said nothing, only stared back with empty gray eyes. He released her hair, sending her face splashing back into the puddle, then looked around for better sport. His eyes fell upon her spirit weapon lying nearby, and he picked it up.

“The Warmaiden and two spirit weapons for the price of one fool brother,” he mused. “A profitable trade, all things considered.”

At that moment, he did not know—could not know—what was coming for him.

“I must thank my friend for his wise advice.”

He spread his arms wide in exultation—and his hand fell from his wrist, taking Aura’s spirit weapon with it.

“Hm? What’s this now?”

Blood gushed from his truncated arm, but he hardly seemed to care. It was the spirit weapon stuck into the ground before his eyes that commanded his attention.

“This sword... This is the one I gave my brother. Why is it here?”

As he stared dumbly at the blade, something was happening behind his back. A glimmer of white light was threading its way through the heaving mass of soldiers. Closer it drew, ever closer, arcing through the air as it surged towards him.

It moved like a bolt of lightning. No other words seemed apt.

And so, like the gleam of a silver blade cleaving through the darkness of despair—

White lightning alighted on the battlefield.