Shinwa Densetsu no Eiyuu no Isekaitan - Volume 3 - Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Like Embers, Huddled in the Blizzard

The tenth day of the tenth month of Imperial Year 1023

The day of the celebration was bitterly cold. Clouds obscured the sun’s rise in the eastern sky, impeding its light from spreading across the land. A fierce wind wailed like a howling beast as it beat at the walls of buildings and whipped freshly fallen snow into flurries. Typically, the high street would be bustling with shoppers and lined with stalls, but now it was empty and the shops were shuttered. The commonfolk were all holed up in their homes, hands over their hearths and prayers on their lips, waiting for the snowstorm to pass.

The Amethyst Hall could not have been more different. Its interior was bathed in warmth. Light scattered throughout the great hall, illuminating faces flushed with cheer. A vast selection of dishes adorned twenty long tables, perhaps more, while silver goblets caught the light of the chandelier to trace mesmerizing patterns on the walls. Nobles sat around the tables, conversing merrily with wine glasses in hand.

“A blizzard on a day like today? A blasted shame is what it is.”

“Is it so lamentable? Who’s to say it isn’t a sign of the heavens’ favor?”

“Quite. Do they not say that a great cataclysm split the land on the day we zlosta were born?”

“True enough. It may very well be a good omen.”

“It must be, for today we celebrate Princess Claudia’s sixteenth birthday!”

No sooner was the princess’s name spoken than all eyes converged on where she sat beside the king.

“I daresay her beauty could rival that of the empire’s sixth princess.”

“Is that so? And have you seen the Valditte to compare?”

“Oh my, no. But the rumors paint a very pretty picture.”

Holding his plate amidst the nobles and their gossip, Hiro surveyed the room.

Things seem peaceful...for now.

Above his head, an orchestra played an elegant melody on an open balcony. Along the fringes of the room, royal guards stood in bulky armor, weapons on full display as if to assure the attendants that all was secure.

“Lord Hiro,” came a voice. “You seem rather unenthusiastic.”

“Not at all,” he replied.

The man who had spoken was one of the officials who had accompanied him from the empire. Hiro forced a smile to fend him off and downed his glass of water. In a room where everybody was indulging in drink, it felt awkward to be the only one refraining.

“Lord Hiro,” another voice called out. “You are enjoying yourself, I hope?”

This speaker was a slender, foppish man: Flaus van Lebering. With an extravagant cloak draped over his shoulders, he projected a stately air. His features had the hard lines of maturity, but his build could have been that of a boy.

Hiro gave a nod of acknowledgment. “Prince Flaus. I’m having a wonderful time, I assure you.”

“Are you certain? From where I stood, you seemed awfully bored.” Flaus’s tone was jovial. He drained his wine glass, then strode over to the table and returned with the bottle. “Come, let us drink. Our great founder would weep to see you frown so.”

Just as Flaus was about to pour, Hiro shook his head. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t drink.”

“Really? How unfortunate.” Flaus sniffed. “Perhaps I will be able to persuade you another time.”

Hiro changed the subject. “I was wondering, is all this security really necessary? This is only a banquet.”

For just a second, the crown prince’s face twisted into a hostile scowl. “With one of the Grantzian royal family in attendance, we cannot be too cautious,” he said with a sweep of his arms to punctuate the point. “We have one thousand soldiers on guard around the palace and over one hundred in this very room.”

The prince craned his neck and looked around. On the first floor, the royal guards lining the walls scanned the crowd for intruders. On the second, sentries kept watch in teams of two from behind the orchestra. The hall was thoroughly secure.

He nodded in satisfaction and patted Hiro gently on the shoulder. “Rest assured, you are quite safe. The Asuras themselves have taken charge of security tonight. Not even a mouse will sneak into the hall without their knowledge.”

“So if something does go wrong, nobody outside will know.”

“Nothing that could slip their notice would be worth knowing.” Flaus flashed a defiant grin.

At that moment, a cheer went up from their right as the ornate doors to the corridor outside swung open.

“It seems our living legend has arrived,” Flaus remarked as a tall man approached. “I’m glad you’re here. Is our security all in order?”

“Not a hair out of place.” The newcomer rested a hand on the hilt of his sword as he spoke. Hiro could not help but notice the large amethyst embedded in its pommel.

Now that takes me back. It’s been a long time since I last saw that manastone.

Its size and shape matched the manastone of one of the zlosta ancestors who had ruled their race one thousand years prior. Hiro remembered it well. He had cut off its owner’s head with his own sword.

“Lord Hiro, allow me to present a hero of Lebering: Sir Garius van Sarzand of the Three Asuras.”

“A pleasure. Hiro Schwartz von Grantz.” Hiro held out his hand.

Garius gladly accepted the handshake. “So you are this scion of Mars that has set the continent talking!” he exclaimed. “Even in this far-flung land, the people whisper that you are your forebear’s match on the battlefield.”

“Rumors have a way of getting exaggerated. You shouldn’t take them seriously.”

“Please, you needn’t be so modest. I would relish the opportunity to spar with you!”

Garius seemed ready to draw his sword at that very moment. Hiro had to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“That will do, Garius.” Flaus stepped in. “Lord Hiro does not want to entertain your whims. More importantly, is the hall secure?”

Garius drew away from Hiro with a scowl of disappointment. “Not a single ruffian would dare try their luck.”

“Excellent. Dare I ask what the Three Asuras are doing here? I know how you disdain celebrations.”

“I was struck by a rare urge to enjoy myself. Although it seems that he was set on coming from the start.”

Garius’s eyes flicked to someone in the crowd. The man cut an unsettling figure, leaning motionlessly against the wall. With his hood pulled low, his features were impossible to discern.

“Baal van Bittenia,” Flaus whispered, seeing Hiro’s wary gaze. “The Frumenti—the Asura of Wisdom, that is—and the wielder of the fiendbow Failnaught.”

“So that’s him...”

As Hiro nodded in acknowledgment, a loud note blared from the orchestra. A ripple passed through the room as they switched from graceful melody to dramatic bombast.

“How time flies. I must give my regards to my father.” Flaus snorted and downed a mouthful of wine. He stood still for a moment, then slammed his goblet back down onto the table. “Would you join me, Lord Hiro?”

“Of course. I was just thinking that I should greet him myself.”

The two set off through the crowd. Hiro glanced at Flaus’s face, but he couldn’t glean any hint of what the man was thinking.

As they were about to ascend the steps to the throne, Flaus spoke once more. “Tell me, Lord Hiro, what do you think of Lebering?”

“It seems like a pleasant place. The people seem happy and the king is just. Maybe it could stand to be a little warmer, but that’s all.”

“It is pleasant, isn’t it?” With a faintly jaded smile, Flaus came to a stop. “You should be the first to give the king your regards. I will wait until you are done.”

“Very well. Later, perhaps.”

With a polite nod by way of answer, Hiro made his way up the rest of the steps alone. He reached the top to see the king on his throne. Princess Claudia sat at her father’s side, wearing an elegant smile.

“Ah, Lord Hiro!” the king cried. “I am pleased to see you here!” He flung his arms wide in welcome. Hiro guessed he had already begun drinking.

“I apologize for keeping you waiting for so long. It is a great honor to be invited.”

“Oh, please, enough with the formalities. All I care to know is whether you are enjoying yourself.”

“I am. I’ve been having a wonderful time.”

“Good, good,” the king replied. “I hope that, just for today, you can forget about your duties and have a little fun.”

“I would be glad to. May the friendship between the Grantzian Empire and Lebering be long and fruitful.”

Hiro gave a small bow and turned away. From the corner of his eye, he saw Claudia return the gesture. As he strode away from the throne, Flaus passed him by. The crown prince’s face was twisted with naked anger, his eyes glaring at the king with a piercing intensity.

Seized by a sudden premonition, Hiro thought to turn around, but—

“Ah, Flaus! I must say, this banquet of yours has been a roaring success!”

“I am pleased to hear it, Father. Anything to honor my dear Claudia...and, of course, to impress upon our guests the glory of Lebering.”

“Indeed. Lord Hiro told me that he has found it wonderful.”

The cheerful exchange convinced Hiro that he must have imagined it. He continued back down the steps.

In that instant, everything went awry.

Something heavy thudded to the floor behind him. The sickening squelch produced an unpleasant dissonance with the elegant playing of the orchestra.

“Wha—?”

Hiro swung around to see...

“You were neither a wise king, Father, nor a tyrant. You were simply a mediocre man. And in a time of peace, that would have been enough.”

Flaus stood over the king’s headless body with a bloodstained sword in his hand. Tension spread throughout the hall, weighing heavier and heavier in the air as more nobles realized that something was amiss.

“But the coming age will be no time of peace. We will not have the luxury of living on the empire’s leash. We zlosta must learn to stand alone. I do only what I must, and though it breaks my heart...I know that you would understand.”

Flaus’s mouth twisted into a crazed grin. He laid a hand over his face, bending over almost double as he burst out laughing.

“Aha ha ha ha ha! Oh, the joy this brings me! At last, the throne is mine!” His head swiveled to regard Hiro with bloodshot eyes. “Aha ha...ha. Lord Hiro. You’re still here, I see. You look shocked. Are you shocked?”

The prince bent over backward, laughing like a madman. A scream tore its way from Claudia’s throat as she cradled the king’s body in her arms, but as she howled, shrieks from the nobles drowned her out. Hiro wheeled around to see that the royal guards were laying into them with their swords. In an instant, the throne room had turned from a tranquil gathering to a massacre.

“Kings, fathers...all just rotten meat once they’re dead, aren’t they? No better than livestock. Don’t you agree, Claudia?”

“Brother! I suspected you had ambitions, but this?!”

“If you would blame anything, blame your own deluded notions. It was you who forced my hand. You who overstepped your bounds!”

“You truly are an incurable fool.”

“Let us see which of us is the fool.” Flaus stalked up to Claudia and grabbed her roughly by the hair, eliciting a cry of pain from the princess. “Not to worry. You might no longer have Father, but you still have me. While I cannot allow you to run free, nor will I keep you in a cage.”

Claudia whimpered in fear.

“Leave everything to me. I’ll be gentle, I promise.” Flaus grinned a lecherous grin. Eyes burning with lust, he wrenched Claudia to her feet, wrapped an arm about her slender waist, and pulled her close. “Nothing can part us now. We’ll be—”

His words caught in his throat as he caught sight of her necklace. His voice deepened to an unsettling growl as he glared at the jeweled metal.

“What is...that...doing around your neck?”

Claudia took the chance to thrust him away. As space opened between them, she clasped her hands around the necklace protectively.

“Why would you do this, brother?!”

“Give me that. It is wasted on you.”

“Answer me! Why have you killed our father?! Why are you cutting down our good nobles?!”

“That is not for you to know. Shut your mouth and do as I say.”

“Stay back!” Claudia stammered in terror as Flaus advanced on her—and stopped. Somebody had stepped between them.

“That’s close enough,” Hiro said.

“Lord Hiro. And what, pray tell, do you think you are doing?”

“Standing in the way of a man with a truly hideous look on his face.”

Shielding Claudia behind him, Hiro raised his right hand. Out from empty space emerged Excalibur, its point trained firmly on Flaus.

The prince scrambled backward, alarmed by the Heavenly Sovereign’s sudden appearance. “What is that?!”

“None of your concern.”

Hiro sank into a crouch with Excalibur raised horizontally. He twisted his hips to lay his left hand against the blade. Panic flashed across Flaus’s face at the sight of Hiro’s practiced motions.

“Let’s be reasonable, Lord Hiro,” the crown prince protested. “Lay down your arms and I will see that you are treated well. As an honored guest, even. I need you as leverage against the empire. I have no reason to wish you harm.”

“That’s not a very convincing offer.”

All at once, Hiro was a blur of motion. Before Flaus could react, his right arm was sailing through the air, trailing a ribbon of blood.

“Gyaaaaaah! My... My arm! You cut off my arm!”

“Pathetic.” Hiro smirked. “And sloppy. If you call yourself a prince, grit your teeth and bear it.”

“You’ll pay for this, you cur!” Flaus snarled. “I’ll have your head!”

“Don’t worry, I won’t kill you. You’re more valuable alive.”

Flaus was clearly the ringleader of this attempted coup. Taking him hostage would secure their safe escape from the castle.

As Hiro strode toward the crown prince, several severed heads flew in from his left. The grisly masses bounced across the floor several times before gravity brought them to a stop. There were four in total, their faces twisted in pain. Both Hiro and Flaus recognized them—they had once belonged to imperial officials.

“Why did you slay the envoys, you fool?!”

Surprisingly, the objection came from Flaus. The killing seemed not to have been on his orders.

“Forgive my indiscretion,” came a voice. “They resisted when I tried to escort them to their confinement, so it seemed prudent to relieve them of their heads.”

“Are you mad?! Do you seek to make war with the empire?!”

“Calm yourself, my lord. I have not killed them all.”

“One will be enough to invite the emperor’s wrath, you imbecile!”

The tall figure of Garius advanced up the stairs, indifferent to Flaus’s frantic objections. Spattered with gore from head to toe, he looked more demon than man. Unless he had gone out of his way to bathe in the envoys’ blood, the heads on the ground could not account for his appearance. He had killed more than just those four.

“Now, Lord Hiro.” Garius halted. “I shall be the one to face you...or so I should like to say, but I fear another has a prior claim.”

Puzzled but wary, Hiro adopted a guarded stance.

“Wrong way, boy. Behind you.”

“Ngh!”

The arrow skittered away, deflected by his blade. A second came winging in its wake, seeking to catch him between the eyes. It took all of his speed to evade it.

Garius saw his chance and pounced. “Gah ha ha! Just as I’d hoped! The scion of Mars makes for fine sport!”

Weaving between the man’s swings, Hiro glanced toward the entryway. As he looked, the doors crashed open and a wave of soldiers flooded in, speartips glinting and swords at the ready. They set upon the nobles with abandon. Drunken and unarmed, their victims died in droves without so much as a chance to fight back.

“There are few finer marksmen in this world than Baal van Bittenia. A crowded hall is no obstacle to him. To elude his arrows is no mean feat!” Garius grinned to see Hiro scanning the unfolding bloodbath, searching for the archer. “Now, for how long will you duck and dodge, I wonder? I tire of this chase!”

Hiro leaned back to avoid Garius’s swing and pivoted onto the offensive. He struck his opponent’s blade once, twice, ducked an arrow, and then resumed his assault.

This is bad. I can’t take on both at once and protect Claudia.

Three more arrows came flying in quick succession, but the fluttering hem of the Black Camellia batted them away. The archer—Baal, Garius had said—seemed to have realized that Garius was outmatched and switched his focus to the princess, aiming to keep Hiro’s hands tied.

I could try hunting this Baal down...

But that would cost Claudia’s life. The arrows were swift and unerring in their arcs. Each one was being fired to kill.

Even as his mind whirled, people were dying. Moans, roars, shrieks—every kind of cry imaginable filled the hall. Guards who had run out of unarmed nobles to slaughter began to turn their attention toward the throne.

“Is that hesitation I feel in your blows?” Garius crowed. “Do you believe you can face me with less than your best?”

“I’d be trying harder if you made me.”

“Hm?”

“Like now. You aren’t watching your feet.”

“Wha—?”

Garius looked down. All too late, he saw that he had been pushed back to the edge of the stairs.

“I’ve figured out where Baal is. And if I know where the arrows are coming from, I can keep myself between them and Claudia.” Hiro kicked Garius’s leg out from under him. “So I’m taking you out of commission for a while. I don’t have the time to duel with a charging boar.”

“Impudent little—”

Garius lost his footing and reeled backward. No warrior of Hiro’s skill would have missed such a wide opening. Without skipping a beat, Hiro planted a kick in the man’s chest.

“Agh!”

Garius crashed down the stairs. Hiro spared him one final glance before hurrying back to Claudia.

“We have to get out of here, Your Highness,” he urged her. “And quickly.”

“But...”

“We don’t have time to hesitate. What do you plan to do if you stay? Fight all these men by yourself? If you want to avenge your father, right now you have to run.”

For a brief moment, a look of reluctance crossed her face, and then resolution kindled in her eyes. She stood. “This way!”

She led him by the hand to the wall behind the throne. A great tapestry hung there, emblazoned with the heraldry of Lebering. She thrust it aside to reveal an iron door. For a moment, it seemed like they had found their escape, but the door’s sturdy frame had no handles or openings. For all intents and purposes, it was a slab of metal embedded in the wall.

“Does it even open?” Hiro asked with some apprehension. They didn’t have time to pry open a rusty old door. He was starting to plan a forcible escape through the entrance when Claudia lifted a hand to her neck and held up her necklace.

“Father told me that this would serve as the key.”

She raised it to show him the amethyst set into the metal. In spite of the pressing danger, he couldn’t help but close his eyes in reminiscence. The presence emanating from the manastone was all too familiar.

I knew I’d seen that somewhere before. It was yours, wasn’t it, Lox?

It felt like an unexpected reunion with an old friend; a comrade whom he had long given up on ever seeing again. The corners of his eyes grew hot.

The gem was no artifact of a zlosta ancestor, but the manastone of Lox van Lebering himself. It was traditionally held by the rulers of the kingdom, passed down from one to the next, and so was known as the Dellingr, or Kingsjewel. Its unusual luster and variety of hue made it particularly highly prized, even among the more precious manastones known as golden amethysts.

Claudia set the stone into an indentation in the door. With a heavy grating sound, the portal opened.

“Where does this—?”

Hiro tried to ask where the passage led, but he had no time. A volley of arrows sped toward them, threading their way through the encroaching guards. He thrust Claudia through the door and spun around, lashing out with Excalibur. As the arrows scattered, he rounded on the soldiers.

“Don’t get ahead of yourselves.”

The first man he beheaded. The second’s throat he slit. Excalibur slipped effortlessly between the seams of the guards’ armor, piercing flesh and sending blood arcing through the air. Before the first sprays of gore could splatter the flagstones, he unleashed a flurry of silver, raising a heap of corpses.

“Have you learned your lesson or do you want more?”

As red mist swirled around him, he settled again into a battle stance and grinned in challenge. His swordsmanship halted the guards in their tracks. One man whimpered.

“No one makes a fool out of me, boy!” A roar of rage issued from their ranks. Garius burst forth and fell upon Hiro.

“Then make me pay, if you can. It’s only fair. I plan on doing the same to you.” Garius’s blade clashed with Excalibur. Sparks showered.

“I’ll take your head next time we meet. Try not to lose it until then.” Hiro planted a punch squarely in the man’s face, forcing a grunt from his lungs, and turned away. “See you around.”

With that, he vanished into the darkness of the passageway. A fresh volley of arrows bounced uselessly off the doors as they shut behind him. The guards surged forward.

“There’s no bloody handle!” one cried.

“Wedge your sword into the crack, then! Pry it open!”

“It’s no use! There’s no crack to be seen!”

“So how do we open the blasted thing?!”

“What are you idiots doing?! After them!” Flaus’s anger cut through the confusion. He was breathing raggedly—perhaps caught up in the excitement of the moment, although the loss of his arm could not have helped.

The guards stepped aside, allowing the prince to approach the door. He laid a tentative hand on the metal.

“It seems that only one who bears the Dellingr may pass.” Garius’s voice issued from behind him, dripping fury.

“I never knew this door was ever here,” Flaus said.

“A secret only for the ruler of Lebering to know, perhaps.”

“Curse her!” The prince kicked the door in his fury. “With her fled and the Dellingr gone, what will become of my plans?! All that time I spent preparing for this day, wasted!”

Garius stopped behind him. “Your plans are not ruined yet,” he said, his voice low and reassuring.

“And how can you say that?!”

“Calm yourself, my lord, lest you bleed out.”

“Why must you be so—?” Flaus spun around in rage, only to find that the man behind him was not Garius. A hooded zlosta stood there: Baal van Bittenia, holding the fiendbow Failnaught.

“Our goal remains what it ever was, my lord. If one path is closed to us, we need simply make another.”

“Lord van Bittenia...” Flaus’s wrath evaporated at the sight of the enigmatic Asura.

Baal wore his hood low at all times to shield his face from view. What lay beneath, no one knew. The commonfolk’s opinion was divided on whether he was horrifically ugly or as beautiful as the gods above. More than a few people objected to such a shadowy figure occupying the seat of Asura, but he had retained his position over the years nonetheless—his uncommon tactical acumen had proved itself too valuable to the prosperity of Lebering.

“We must prepare a story for the people,” he said. “Waiting too long to assuage their fears will only arouse suspicion.”

Flaus trusted Baal’s intellect as much as anybody else. “So what do we tell them?”

“All in due time. First, you must have your arm seen to.”

Baal instructed the royal guards to summon a physician before turning to Garius and asking him to find where the secret passage emerged. As the exchange unfolded, Flaus eased himself onto the throne. He beckoned a soldier over and ordered the man to bring him fruit and wine before returning his attention to Baal.

“So, again,” he ventured, “what do you propose we tell the people?”

“I would suggest that the Grantzian envoys were conspiring with a faction of nobles to kill the king. That will focus their attention outward for a little while.”

“And what do we do about Claudia?”

“If we can apprehend her before she crosses the border, all the better, but if she does flee Lebering, it will almost certainly be to the empire. There are no other paths left to her.”

“We cannot allow her to reach the empire with the Dellingr. If she does...”

“Indeed. The imperials will no doubt rejoice to have casus belli.”

“My own people will call me a usurper! My nobles will turn traitor!”

“They will not, my lord. I will not allow it.”

“Then what’s your plan?”

Baal gave a nod of affirmation, his smile widening wickedly beneath his cowl. “First, I will attack the south of the kingdom so that it does not stand in our way. Then I will continue into the empire. I will gather soldiers on the border and demand the return of our princess, showing the world that ours is the righteous claim.”

“But...that’s ridiculous!” Flaus spluttered. “You would wage war with the empire?!”

“Does the prospect scare you?” The mockery in Baal’s voice was faint, but there was no mistaking it.

Flaus took a swig of wine. “Of course it does. We have no quarrel with them. There are one hundred thousand soldiers in the Fifth Legion alone, and another hundred thousand in the north’s standing army. We can muster perhaps forty thousand. We have no chance of victory.”

“Not if we were to fight them all at once, but their numbers mean nothing if they are scattered. The empire’s attention is on Friedhof in the west—I trust you know the Spirit Wall. It will take time for the Fifth Legion to marshal its forces.”

“Are you saying you believe that we can win?” A hopeful expectation crept into Flaus’s gaze.

Baal answered matter-of-factly. “If we command our army effectively. But first, we must rid the south of Haniel, or we will have gathered our forces in the north only to trap them.”

Flaus’s lips twisted at the lack of reassurance he had hoped for, but eventually he nodded. “Very well. We have come too far to turn back now. Do as you see fit.”

“Of course, my lord. To begin, let us execute the imperial envoys and their guards.” Baal’s laugh was a dry rattle as his lips pulled into a sadistic grin.

＊

“I can only apologize for my foolishness. I never believed my brother capable of such savagery.”

Claudia bowed her head in apology. The torchlight picked out faint tear trails where it caught her cheek.

Hiro looked around. Torches lined the walls at regular intervals, seeming to continue all the way down the tunnel. He closed his eyes, breathed deep, then turned back to Claudia.

“We have to keep moving. Let’s get out of here.”

He lifted a flaming torch from the wall and set out, using it to light the rest as he went. Claudia fell in silently behind him.

“Do you know where this leads?” he asked.

“I do. It comes out near a village called Carilles. Father told me so more than once, so there’s no mistake.”

“And Flaus doesn’t know?”

“Only the bearer of the Dellingr may enter this place. Father would not have told him about it.”

“I see.”

Perhaps King Svarov had foreseen Flaus’s betrayal, perhaps not. The truth had died with him. The question now was how they could put a stop to the crown prince’s madness.

They walked in silence for a while. At last, the exit came into view. The wavering torchlight illuminated a stone door, conspicuously devoid of moss. Someone had kept it clean.

Hiro gestured for Claudia to step back and shunted the stone with his shoulder. A cloud of dust rose up as it swung open. Fragments of rock trickled down from above. He stepped through to find himself in a shed piled high with rusty farming equipment. Slipping soundlessly to the outer door, he listened for anybody outside. At last, he turned back to Claudia, satisfied that they were alone.

“Eh?”

A noise of surprise escaped his mouth. The princess had stripped off her dress and was standing in her undergarments.

“Erm...” Her cheeks flushed pink to see him staring. “Would you terribly mind looking away until I’m decent?”

With a deep sigh, Hiro faced back outside. “Can I ask why you’re taking off your clothes?”

“My dress would attract attention. I thought I might change into something less conspicuous.”

“I suppose that’s sensible. I hadn’t thought of that.”

If he led her outside in her ballgown, Flaus’s forces would find them in minutes. He looked down at himself, then reached for a nearby sack.

“I suppose I’d better cover up too.”

His black overcoat would stand out particularly starkly against Lebering’s white snowfields. He tore a hole down the side of the sack, opened it up, and wrapped it around his shoulders, covering up the Black Camellia.

“I am ready, Lord Hiro,” came Claudia’s voice. “We ought to hurry.”

Hiro turned to see the princess wearing peasant’s attire. A kerchief covered the purple of her hair, and holes pockmarked her clothes.

“Should you not remove your eyepatch?”

“I can’t,” he said. “The wound still hasn’t healed. I don’t want the cold getting to it.”

“I see. Then we must endeavor to avoid being seen.”

With that, they left the toolshed together.

The frozen sky was empty of stars. Heavy clouds streamed overhead, obscuring the light of the moon. In the darkness below, a gale howled like a starving beast.

“This way! Hurry!”

Claudia’s voice cut as sharp as the wind through the blinding snowstorm, urging Hiro on. He tried to hurry after her, but the snow caught his foot and he fell to one knee.

She hurried back to his side, her hand outstretched in an offer of aid. “Are you all right?”

“I’ll be fine. Just keep going. If we stop now, we’ll freeze to death.”

“At least they can’t follow us,” she said. “Although at this rate, the blizzard might do their job for them.”

He took her fingers in his and found them ice-cold. They did not have long. Warmth might be too much to hope for, but finding shelter was imperative. Once the blizzard passed, they would be on the run again, and that would take every last ounce of strength they could conserve.

“There.” He pointed to a cattle shed. It would keep the wind off well enough and help them retain some warmth. “No one will be working the fields this late, so...” He caught himself. “Of course, if you’d rather somewhere else...”

“Never fear. Nobody would ever believe that a princess spent the night in a stall.” Claudia stepped forward and turned around, pressing a finger to a mischievous smile. “But you must promise not to tell. The people would faint if they knew.”

Hiro raised his arms with a theatrical sigh. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Although he didn’t voice it, there was another reason he had suggested the cattle shed. Drix, Huginn, and Muninn, whom he had sent to lie low in Tiane’s castle town, had almost certainly escaped to this village. He had given them simple instructions: if anything went awry at the palace, they were to flee the city for a nearby settlement and find somewhere to hide.

And the cold will be harsh for Huginn and Muninn.

Outsiders would stand out easily in a settlement this small. Not many places could keep the Lichtein-born siblings warm while fending off prying eyes. In this blizzard, at this time of day, factoring in that the locals wouldn’t be likely to venture outside, there was only one place they could be.

Hiro stopped and looked up. A barn with a red-gabled roof rose above him. Shielding Claudia behind him, he pushed open the door. He could sense three people lurking within, holding their breath. They were well hidden, but not well enough.

“It’s me,” he announced. “You can come out.”

They emerged from the darkness to kneel before him.

“I’m glad you’re safe, Your Lordship.”

“Aye, you can say that again! If you were missing so much as a hair on your head, the boss would’ve had my guts for garters!”

After Huginn and Muninn had finished their excited greetings, Drix straightened from his bow. “I am pleased that you are safe, Your Highness, but we do not have the luxury of time. We ought to discuss what we know.”

“Please. I’ve got a lot of questions myself. I don’t know what’s been happening outside of the throne room.”

“First of all, allow me to say that we escaped the royal city without incident...”

Drix launched into an explanation. While Hiro had been embroiled in Flaus’s ploy for the throne, strange events had been afoot in the castle town. A great volume of soldiers had descended on the streets, heading for inns and noble residences. They hadn’t stayed to lock the city down once their work was done; instead, they had left as quickly as they had arrived. A steady flow of nobles had ridden from the palace in the time since, Flaus and his co-conspirators among them.

“I see,” Hiro said. “Then I suppose it’s my turn.”

He thanked Drix for his work, then beckoned Claudia over and introduced her to his subordinates.

“I can only apologize for all the trouble you have suffered. I never could have imagined that my brother would go to such lengths...”

“It is quite enough for us that you are safe, Your Highness,” Drix reassured her before turning back to Hiro. “Might I ask if you have noticed anything unusual around the village?”

“Come to think of it...” Hiro set a finger to his chin. “You’d think they’d be looking for us, but I haven’t seen a single soldier.”

“Quite so. The military presence in and around the royal city is virtually nonexistent. One might surmise that almost every last man has joined Prince Flaus’s army in its march south. By now, I daresay his forces must number over thirty thousand.”

“He’s marching south? Not toward the empire?”

Drix shrugged. “I cannot speak to specifics, but so it seems.”

Hiro sank into thought, but Claudia drew closer, interrupting his musings.

“I expect that my brother means to attack the south of Lebering,” she said.

At that, every gaze converged on her.

“Haniel rules the south, and he is loyal to my father. As soon as he hears what happened tonight, he will place himself in my brother’s way. His nobles and his people love him. I should not be surprised to learn that my brother considers him a great threat.”

“Do you know how many men the south can muster?” Hiro asked.

Claudia answered without hesitation. “Ten thousand, but many will be commonfolk, and some elderly too.”

“Lord Hiro,” Drix interjected, “I propose that we write to Prince Selene for aid. Through some happy accident, he is conducting exercises near the border. If we combine his forces with those of the south, crushing Prince Flaus will be a simple matter.”

The plan was sound on paper, but something about it bothered Hiro.

So that’s what’s going on...

Second Prince Selene’s ominous parting words repeated in his mind. All at once, the small discrepancies that had been nagging at him connected into an unbroken chain, and the full picture came into focus.

“The emperor knew this would happen.”

“His Majesty expected a coup?”

He had to. Too much didn’t make sense otherwise. The second prince’s presence near the border was suspicious enough, but nobody would send a strategist with Hiro’s military record on a peaceful diplomatic mission. If the emperor truly wanted to get rid of him, it would have been easier to pack him off to serve the empire on some irrelevant battlefield. Instead, it seemed the man had higher priorities—namely, quenching the sparks of Lebering’s revolt before they could drift across the border. Most likely, he hoped to use Hiro’s capture or the envoys’ deaths to justify an invasion, crushing Lebering quickly and decisively with the north’s military might.

Well, I’m not going to let him have his way. My friend built this nation. I won’t let anyone destroy it, not even an emperor.

Calling on all of the ingenuity he had cultivated a thousand years prior, he racked his brain for a way to ensure Lebering’s survival. Claudia’s figure caught his eye, and a plan began to form.

“Drix, I need you to deliver a message to the second prince. Tell him we don’t need any reinforcements. That the deaths of the envoys were not the work of the true rulers of Lebering, but the actions of blood-crazed rebels.”

“At once, Your Highness. But, if I may, what will you do next?”

“I will escort Princess Claudia south to find Haniel. And then I will crush the rebel army.”

As Hiro touched his fingers to his eyepatch, his lips curled into the faintest hint of a smile.

＊

The sixteenth day of the tenth month, Imperial Year 1023

A maelstrom of carnage swept over the southern Lebering province of Halm. Flaus and his rebel army showed no mercy. They pillaged, slaughtered, burned villages, razed towns. Men were tortured until they could not move. Women were snatched as they fled to sate the soldiers’ lust. Even children were not spared. They were beheaded in front of their parents and left to rot in the dirt.

Beneath the spreading cloud of putrefaction, yet another town burned. Its buildings lay in smoldering cinders. Black smoke rose from the fields, mingling with the stench of death as it drifted skyward. Out in the streets, where small fires still guttered, blackened corpses littered the ground.

“Damn shame we don’t take slaves like the desert wolves or we could’ve kept the women.”

“Plenty of women south of here. If you ask me, you ought to be more worried about whether yer rod’ll rust!”

Two soldiers conversed amid a chorus of crude guffaws. They swaggered through the town as though the streets were their own, their arms piled high with fresh spoils. Women’s screams rang in the air.

“Can’t say I ever thought I’d have the chance to loot the south.”

“You can say that again. They’re our own countrymen, even if their blood does run human. And they’ve got one of the Asuras protecting ’em. Haniel himself.”

“Just goes to show that Baal’s a crafty sot. Even Haniel couldn’t outsmart him. We should thank our lucky stars we sided with Flaus.”

“Aye, true’s true.”

As the pair chuckled, a rider appeared, thundering toward them from down the street. On his arm was the blue band of a messenger. His horse whinnied as he skidded to a stop.

“Return to camp immediately!” he shouted. “By order of Crown Prince Flaus!”

The soldiers glanced at each other, then shrugged.

“Pull the other one. We’ve still got plenty recon left to do.”

“Aye, what ’e said. We’re not due back yet.”

Their confusion was understandable. Their “reconnaissance” was scheduled to last for two more days.

“You have until tomorrow to return to camp! Whether you believe me’s no business of mine, but it’s your heads that’ll roll!”

The messenger turned his horse about and returned the way he came. Soon, he was nothing more than a distant shadow and a faint drumming of hooves.

One soldier turned to the other. “Where’d that come from?”

“Bah.” The other spat. “I was hoping for a little more fun.”

“Prince’s orders. Can’t do shit. Now, let’s go find a woman that’s still breathing.”

They dropped their plunder where they stood and set out in the direction of the screams.

A day’s march from the burned-out village lay the rebel army’s camp. An extravagant tent rose in the center with the flag of Lebering fluttering beside it. Behind a barrier of guards, Baal and his strategists were holding a meeting.

“Seven villages, two towns,” one of the strategists recited. “We have left the men’s heads on spikes on the castle walls and slain the women and children. The surrounding settlements have fled their homes in fear and headed south.”

As the man finished his report, the rest of the advisors began to look appalled at the army’s activities.

One of the officers could not restrain himself. “We have gone too far!” he exclaimed. “The south will be barren for generations! This will haunt us, mark my words!”

Baal waved the accusation away in annoyance. “I have recalled the reconnaissance units. They will conduct themselves more properly in future.”

The gesture only seemed to incense the officer. “What do you mean to achieve by massacring our own countrymen?!”

“Perhaps I allowed the men to get a little carried away, but this was a necessary step in my plan.”

“What plan?!”

Baal sighed in exasperation. “What do you suppose will happen when the refugees flee south?”

The east of the Grantzian Empire lay only sixty sel due south from where they stood. The rebel army’s advance would drive the fleeing commonfolk across the border—not into the empire’s northern territories, where Baal later hoped to invade, but into the east.

“I suppose the eastern nobles will welcome them with open arms,” the officer replied.

“My point exactly.” Baal stood up from his chair. The shadow over his face deepened as he pulled his hood lower. “Had they fled from some other nation, the empire might leave them to rot, but Lebering is a longtime ally. The nobles will have no choice but to take them in.”

With a clack, the Asura set a pawn on the map.

“People require sustenance to live. The refugees will need clothes, food, and shelter. Yet such a sudden increase in population will oblige the eastern territories to empty their coffers and open their storehouses. When strife inevitably arises, the imperial citizens will turn against their new neighbors.”

They would have to watch the resources they had stockpiled with the sweat of their own brow being ravaged by newcomers from a foreign land—a nonhostile invasion. Discontent would turn to anger, and anger would turn to resentment against the ruling class. Once it exploded, it would be unstoppable. Revolt would ignite and, whether it succeeded or failed, the nation would crumble all the same.

“The empire is vast, and so is its population. That will be its downfall.”

Dissent would spread from one province to the next like wildfire. All of the malcontent that the empire had accumulated over its long history would erupt at once. In the ensuing chaos, it would be a simple matter to carve off a piece of the north.

“That is why we pillage. That is why we slaughter. As a warning. The more the northern territories fear us, the easier they will be to control once we have them in our grasp.”

Baal concluded his explanation, but some of his advisors and officers still looked unconvinced.

“Some will see our intentions, will they not?” one ventured. “Surely some of the eastern nobles will oppose taking in the refugees.”

“All the better if they do. In squabbling amongst themselves about who must take responsibility, they will only cause more discord. We will make of these refugees a wedge”—Baal drove a dagger into the table to emphasize his point—“to bring about the empire’s downfall. It has believed itself ruler of the world for far too long.”

The conviction in his words finally brought silence to the table. No more objections were forthcoming.

“This meeting is adjourned. We will reconvene once the reconnaissance units return. In the meantime, you may return to your posts.” He cast one final look around the table and left.

His next destination was not far: Prince Flaus’s tent. The guards recognized him on sight and stepped back to clear the way.

As soon as he stepped through the tent flap, a vile stench assaulted his nose. The reek of decay suffusing the tent would have made any ordinary man vomit. It issued from a sickbed in the center of the room. Lying upon its pristine white sheets, with skin pale as death, was the sorry figure of Prince Flaus.

“Ah...Lord van Bittenia. What news?”

The prince tried to sit up as he registered Baal’s arrival, but his strength quickly gave out. He collapsed back onto the bed, panting with exertion.

Baal approached soundlessly to stand over him. “All is well, my lord.”

“Good... Good.”

Flaus’s face retained no trace of its youthful vivacity. His face was as wrinkled as an old man’s and his body was emaciated. Only a week had passed since the king’s killing, but he looked as though he had aged decades.

His decline had begun three days prior, when he had vomited blood and collapsed during a strategy meeting. Ever since then, he had grown thinner by the hour, until at last his extremities had begun to rot away. Now, he had lost his right eye entirely and the sight was fading in his left. Standing unaided was beyond him.

“Heh...”

And so Baal knew that Flaus could not see him laugh. His repulsive purple lips curled into a smile as his throat rattled with amusement.

Flaus’s cracked lips parted. “And what of Claudia? Have you found her?”

“There has been no word as of yet, my lord.”

“She’s a cruel woman...to leave her brother alone in such a state...” A tear trickled from the prince’s eye. He raised a three-fingered hand; the other two had rotted off. “Bring her to me, Lord van Bittenia. I need her.”

“Try not to move, Your Highness. It would not do to lose another finger.” Baal had to clamp a hand to his mouth to suppress the urge to giggle. “Rest assured, I will take care of Princess Claudia. Now, please, you must take your medicine.”

He grasped Flaus’s head and wrenched it upright. Something like a scream issued forth, but it was far too weak to escape the tent, and none came to help. Baal watched with amusement for a while as the prince’s face contorted in agony. Eventually, he reached into his pocket and produced a golden bottle, which he brought to Flaus’s lips.

“Drink up, my lord. Soon, bitterness will turn to sweetness, pain to pleasure, and doubt to hope.”

“Mmph! Mmrgh! Agh!” Flaus thrashed as an unidentifiable liquid flowed down his gullet.

“Surrender to our lord and you will be blessed.”

Darkness pressed in, black and cold. Within the stagnant air of the tent’s confines, Flaus’s torment continued long into the night.

＊

Hiro and his companions made their way south through idyllic scenery. Grasses and flowers peeked through the snow, swaying joyfully in the breeze. Trills of birdsong drifted from above, dispelling unease with their tranquil melodies.

Once they passed into the south of Lebering, however, the view turned gruesome. It was hard not to gasp at the sight. They stared as one at the ominous shapes ahead: wooden crosses rising along the roadside like gravestones. Nailed to the boards were women, children, the elderly—the people of the south. The bodies lined the road as far as the eye could see, a ghastly brushstroke on the landscape. Dead tongues could give no testimony, but it was not hard to guess how they had perished.

Hiro and his companions could only stare in mute horror. Their feet seemed rooted to the earth as their minds gradually made sense of the scene.

“What kind of brutes would do this to their own people?!” Huginn made no attempt to hide her disgust.

“Killin’ women and children. Motherless bastards, the lot of ’em.” Muninn shielded his eyes from the horror.

For her part, Claudia fell to her knees and offered a prayer. Hiro only burned the cruelty of the sight into his memory.

“Muninn.”

“What is it, chief?”

“Let’s go. If the refugees were right, the southern army’s camp should be close.”

“Aye. Let’s.”

They resumed their progress. As heart-wrenching as it was to leave the bodies where they were, there was no other choice. Even if four people could have dug that many graves, they had no time to delay.

“Many people in Lebering still uphold the ideals of zlosta supremacy,” Claudia explained. “And many of Haniel’s subjects are human. The rebels likely do not consider them true countrymen. That is what allows them to commit such atrocities.” She paused. “My brother was one of those people. Father always did scold him for his beliefs.”

“Those who are not zlosta are no better than beasts” was the creed of zlosta supremacy. Hiro could not have forgotten it if he tried. It was the ideology of arrogant monsters. In its name, many lives had been lost, much blood had been spilled, and much hatred had clouded the skies. Even now, a thousand years later, it persisted like a lingering curse.

“But does that really explain this kind of brutality?” Hiro asked. “Or is there more to it?”

Claudia fell silent for a moment. “There...was something else,” she said finally. “On the day he died, Father was supposed to announce that he would yield the throne to me.”

“And Flaus found out?”

“Somehow, yes, I believe so. And it seems that even murdering his own father did not placate his anger. Now, he seeks vengeance on all the people of the south.” Claudia’s eyebrows knotted despondently. She lowered her gaze and exhaled a white breath. “I am dreadfully sorry to have involved you all in my family’s quarrels.”

“You don’t have to apologize. We’re here because we want to help.”

She turned to Hiro with a quizzical expression. “If I may, why are you being so kind to me?”

Hiro smiled, but he said nothing. His reasons were better left unspoken. It was true that he was unwilling to watch his old friend’s nation fall to ruin, but he also had a more practical motivation: a healthy Lebering would be indispensable to his future plans.

“I see the camp, Your Lordship!”

Huginn bounded cheerfully back across the snow, pointing down the road. In the distance were lines of white tents. Smoke, perhaps from cooking fires, rose from the encampment in wind-blown spirals.

“Well, then,” Hiro said. “Let’s go and see Haniel.”

They prepared to explain themselves to the sentries at the gate, but there was no need. The men stiffened at the sight of Claudia.

“Your Highness!” one stammered. “You’re safe!”

“Well met, brave soldiers,” she greeted them. “Might you tell me where I can find Haniel?”

“Your Highness, there’s something you ought to...” The soldier seemed to struggle for words. “Perhaps you should come with me.”

He turned to his comrades and asked someone to take his post, then set out.

As Hiro followed, he noticed for the first time the air of hopelessness hanging over the encampment. Grim-faced soldiers hurried about, loading supplies onto carts, their footsteps filling the air with dust. It almost seemed as though they were preparing to retreat.

Soon enough, their guide stopped before a tent. Hiro’s eyes narrowed.

This isn’t a command tent. It’s a medical one.

The shadow of unease that had hung over his chest since his arrival began to squeeze around his heart.

The group stepped through the tent flap. A simple bed lay inside, its once-clean white sheets unsettlingly bulbous and mottled with blood. The sharp scent of medicines pricked at the nostrils.

“Your Highness?”

A middle-aged man sat by the bed, his face downcast. He stood as he registered the newcomers’ arrival and staggered toward them on uncertain feet, falling to his knees at last before Claudia.

“You’re safe!” he wailed. “Oh, thank the heavens!”

“Raise your head,” she replied. “Tell me, what is happening? Where is Haniel?”

She laid a hand on his shoulder, encouraging him to stand, but he only pressed his forehead more firmly against the ground.

“Forgive our foolishness, Your Highness! He is dead in battle!”

“Dead?”

“The enemy outwitted us, Your Highness! Prince Flaus sent word that you had been captured and invited us to negotiate, but it was all an ambush! Lord Haniel fought valiantly, but he perished on the field!”

“Is that his body?” Claudia cast a hesitant glance at the lumpen shape on the bed. The man gave a brief nod, before descending once more into sobs.

Hiro looked between them and sighed. That explains why they were preparing to retreat.

It was hard to imagine that Haniel had gone to negotiate alone. More likely, he had taken most of his advisors with him. Now, his army was headless, with nobody left to take command.

“Excuse me,” Hiro interrupted, “but how many men do you have left?”

“Five thousand, my lord, a thousand of them wounded.” The man’s eyebrows furrowed in surprise at the question, but he answered truthfully enough. “The enemy fell upon us in full force while we were reeling from the loss of Lord Haniel.”

With their leader dead and their chain of command in disarray, they had been unable to muster any effective resistance. They had lost more than five thousand men and been forced into a humiliating retreat.

“Your Highness, before Lord Haniel passed, he instructed me to give you this.” The man retreated to a corner of the tent and returned with a cloth-wrapped bundle. “The fiendblade Hauteclaire. Please, it is yours to take.”

The cloth unwound to reveal the fiendblade’s steel. Claudia’s hands flew to her mouth. Tears beaded in the corners of her eyes.

“Will you lead us in Lord Haniel’s stead?” the man pleaded.

A hush fell over the tent. The air turned stifling. At last, Claudia took the fiendblade in her hands and approached Haniel’s body.

“I do not know whether I am equal to this burden...but all who bear royal blood have a duty to safeguard Lebering. I swear, I will do my utmost to restore the peace.”

She drove her blade into the earth and rested her forehead against the hilt. Hiro caught a glimpse of her face as she bowed her head. He closed his eyes, fighting back the anger that flared in his chest.

“Lord Hiro, would you lend me your strength in this?”

At the sound of her voice, he opened his eyes again. “I’ll do what I can. Just let me ask you—what exactly is it that you want?”

“To strike down my usurper brother. I cannot allow him to bring any more strife to these lands.”

“In that case, my strength is yours.”

Despite his confidence, their position was extraordinarily poor. Engaging on conventional terms would be a path to defeat. The enemy was crafty—they knew to entice their foes with tempting bait and strike once they were committed. He sensed a shrewd and ruthless intelligence at work behind their lines.

And our side is almost out of options.

The crucifixions they had passed on the way were not a provocation. They were meant to break the spirits of the retreating soldiers. Such a show of overt brutality would inevitably seed terror in their hearts, even as they outwardly grew enraged. With morale at rock bottom, the troops mentally exhausted, and the odds stacked against them, he had to find a way to turn the tables.

“We’ll start by reforming the units. Have the officers assemble in the command tent.”

“Of course.” Claudia nodded before turning to the man on his knees. “Might you find all those who yet live?”

The man nodded and left the tent at a run.

Claudia turned back to Hiro. “Am I to take it that you have a plan?”

“It’s nothing complicated.” He flashed her a self-assured smile. “But first, I want to hear what the officers have to say.”

＊

Before long, the surviving officers were all assembled in the command tent. Their faces betrayed confusion at having been summoned so abruptly. Were they not supposed to be fleeing the coming massacre? Nervous whispers filled their ranks.

Hiro arrived to that anxious audience with Claudia by his side. The officers stood as one and bowed as they entered. Claudia bowed in return before taking her seat at the head of the table.

“My apologies for calling you here on such short notice. Allow me to introduce my aide and military advisor, Hiro Schwartz von Grantz, the fourth prince of the Grantzian Empire.”

The officers’ eyes grew wide as saucers. Apprehension filled the room as comprehension spread among them. Hiro’s expression did not flicker. Their naked incredulity bounced off him as he laid a map and some documents on the table, bowed his head politely, and took his place at Claudia’s side.

“At ease,” he said, gesturing to the chairs laid out around the table for the officers. They obediently took their seats.

So far, so good. He could hardly expect them to trust him yet, but at least they weren’t scoffing at him. Despite some reservations, they seemed willing to hear him out.

“First things first. The retreat is canceled. If we permit the rebel army to run roughshod over the south any longer, it may never recover. We must strike down Prince Flaus before the damage becomes irreversible.”

Claudia’s presence forestalled any vocal dissent, but Hiro could see the dissatisfaction in the officers’ faces. Seeing that doubts needed to be assuaged, he drew a short breath and spoke again.

“The odds are against us, it’s true, but the situation can still be salvaged. Your people beg you to save them from the fires of war. Your fallen commander and comrades implore you to avenge their deaths. For their sakes, you must stand again and fight.”

Some faint light returned to their eyes to hear him speak with such confidence. It was said, after all, that Mars had never known defeat, and his scion’s words carried weight. He could not deny some disappointment—the presence of someone with a little more fight in them would have greased the wheels immeasurably—but he could not blame them for being dejected after the defeat they had suffered. First, he needed to restore their spirits.

“I put to you the question of what to do next. Anybody who wishes to propose a plan has my permission to speak.”

“Have you no plan of your own, Lord Hiro?” Claudia asked apprehensively.

Hiro nodded. “Of course I do. Several, in fact. But first, I want to hear what the rest of you think.”

The officers looked at him in surprise at that. It was hard to blame them. They were the broken survivors of a defeated army. No sane man would come to them for optimism.

“Why?” one man finally said.

Hiro heaved a sigh of genuine disappointment. So they had come here expecting someone else to tell them what to do. “I don’t need yes-men who can’t form their own opinions.”

A future hero of Lebering might be seated at that very table. He needed to find that talent and cultivate it, for the sake of the future as well as the present. One more capable commander in the world would mean countless more lives saved.

“Forget about princes. Forget about Mars. Forget who I am and tell me your honest ideas. If they’re good, I’ll use them.”

Hesitation could be fatal. Seeking to please one’s superior made a commander indecisive, and indecision cost lives, sometimes battles. Indeed, the loss of a single unit could doom an entire nation. Cringing subservience had no place on the battlefield. It had to be weeded out swiftly and decisively.

“Will you hear mine, then?” A burly looking officer at last broke the silence.

Hiro gave the man a small smile. Regardless of the quality of his idea, the fact that he had spoken was enough. “You may speak.”

“Thank you, sir.” The burly man stood. Sweat poured off his brow. “They have numbers on their side. As I see it, we ought to make use of the terrain and launch a surprise attack.”

“Would that we could,” a thin-faced officer interjected. “They’ve been holding position for days. Now they’ve had time to send out scouts, they’ll know the lay of the land as well as we do. We might manage to outflank them, but I wouldn’t put coin on doing it without being spotted.”

“But the element of surprise is the only way to overcome their numbers. Are you proposing that we fight them head-on? We’d be slaughtered.”

“I’m proposing that we lure them out. Get them to let their guard down.”

“And how will we manage that?” the burly officer pressed.

The thin-faced man fell silent. He didn’t seem to know.

In obvious frustration, one of the other officers began placing pawns on the map. “How about this? We split our forces in two. One lures them out, the other circles around behind, and we trap them in a pincer.”

“Hold on,” another said. “We can’t pincer a larger force. The two groups will only be isolated and picked off.”

It did not take long for the rest to pitch in. As the air in the tent began to warm, the debate took on a burning intensity. Even so, their arguments seemed to go around in circles. No proposition was convincing enough to be decisive.

Eventually, Hiro stepped in. “Thank you all for your contributions. I think we would all benefit from a drink of water and a moment to rest.”

The officers could not ignore his instruction. They returned to their seats, breathing heavily. Once they had all sat down, Hiro rose. They scrambled to follow suit.

“No, don’t get up.”

The officers looked perplexed, but they did as he asked.

Hiro looked over the room. “As the descendant of Lox van Lebering’s onetime ally, it brings me great joy to see the love that you bear for your country and the ideas you put forward to defend it.”

In that moment, he spoke as the fourth prince of the empire. With a grandiose gesture, he continued.

“Your proposals were all excellent. I would be loath to throw even a single one away. Consequently, I have decided on a course of action.”

The tent went quiet. Somebody swallowed hard. A plan was about to be chosen. If it led the army to victory, its proponent’s name would go down in the annals of Lebering history. Their gazes converged on Hiro as they all but forgot how to breathe.

“I will use them all.”

The officers looked incredulous. Every face screamed bewilderment.

Hiro only smiled. He had anticipated that reaction. “They all have their virtues—and, more importantly, they were all born of your love for your nation.”

Nobody would be disappointed that their idea had been overlooked this way. Hiro’s true goal, however, had been to create a sense of solidarity. They would face the foe not alone, but together.

“I will smooth out the edges myself. We will take them by surprise, we will fight them head-on, and we will have them dancing to our tune as we seize victory.”

If the rebel army had not turned on the people, a peaceable solution might have been possible through Claudia. They had resorted, however, to the lowest and most barbaric of tactics. That could not be ignored and it could not be forgiven.

“I’ll tighten the noose slowly. Slowly enough that they can feel it. I want them to know exactly who they’ve crossed.”

Hiro planted his hands on the table, exhaling simmering anger with every breath. He looked around the tent. A fire blazed in his eye.

“And I will show them despair.”

His audience shivered at the cold fury in his voice.

＊

A small hill stood a short distance from the southern army’s camp. Dense with foliage and shrouded in darkness, it was hidden from the light of the stars. Four men crouched in the underbrush, half-buried in snow. They held their breath as they surveyed the encampment. Their clothes were uniform white, the better to blend into their surroundings, with leaves and twigs stuck on as camouflage. The mud smeared on their faces completed the effect.

“I say we’ve seen enough,” one said. “We ought to make ourselves scarce before we’re spotted.”

“We’ve already sent someone back to report. The rest of us’ve still got a job to do.”

The large man lying nearby stifled a yawn as he spoke. “What’s the point? They’re only five thousand. We could spend all day napping and it wouldn’t make a jot of difference.”

“Aye, a paltry five thousand against our thirty. Those ain’t the kind of odds you beat.” The fourth man was an old soldier sipping on plundered alcohol. He took a glance at the southern camp and snorted before offering the keg to his two more diligent comrades. “No need to work so hard. I’ve drink enough for all of us, though I can’t offer ye meat to go with it.”

“There’s meat aplenty back in town,” the large man sniggered, “if you don’t mind your pork long.”

The two watchmen didn’t respond. Neither showed any sign of moving until his shift was over.

The old soldier cleared his throat and expelled an exasperated sigh. “You younglings work too hard for your own good. Aye, well, whatever keeps watch duty off these old shoulders...”

“Quiet down a little, old man.” The large man poured liquor into a wooden cup. “We’ll have to run for it if you get us spotted.”

A haughty sniff. “You say that like you’ve lifted a finger all day.”

“Ga ha ha ha! True enough, but I’m still young. I can fight if it comes to it.”

“Let’s hope that youthful confidence don’t get you killed, eh? Now, what’s taking that blasted captain so long? Figured he’d be done pissing by now.”

“Fallen asleep somewhere’s my guess. He drank as much as most men could take.”

“Probably frozen stiff by now in this cold. And it’d serve him right. Idiot thinks he can hold his liquor.”

“Can’t blame a man for wetting his whistle on an assignment this dull.” The large man suddenly stood. He waved a dismissive hand as the old soldier glanced at him suspiciously. “I’ll go find the captain. And maybe take a piss myself while I’m at it.”

“Here’s hopin’ you slip and bash your brains out.”

“Aye, just as long as you’re not cold and dead by the time I— Whoa!” No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the man lost his footing and went down like a sack of bricks.

“What did I tell ya?” the old man cackled. “Hope you didn’t piss yourself.”

“Course I didn’t. Just slipped in the mud...” He patted the ground. It made an oddly viscous squelch.

“What’s wrong?” the old soldier called.

The large man raised his hand above his head for the moonlight to catch as it filtered through the trees.

“What in the...?”

His fingers, his palm—everything from the wrist down was drenched with red. Sticky droplets dripped down onto his cheek. He wiped them away on his arm and looked back, only to find that the old soldier was nowhere to be seen.

“Huh? Where’ve you gone, old man?”

He glanced around. The two watchmen were still at their posts, but the old soldier seemed to have vanished into thin air.

“Oy, did either of you see where he—?”

He grasped one of their shoulders and tried to pull the man around, but he went sprawling.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me...”

Both of them were headless, everything gone from the neck up. As the large man retreated in terror, the blood-soaked ground squished noisily beneath his feet.

“How much did I bloody have?”

With his head swimming in alcohol, it was hard to tell what was real. He could only pray that he was dreaming. Stumbling, he turned around and fled into the forest.

“Whole world’s gone bloody mad...”

His nerves screamed at him to run. His drunken stupor rapidly cooled to cold sobriety. His body could not follow so quickly, however, and he took more than a few tumbles as he ran desperately for the horses. At last, covered in scrapes and bleeding all over, he returned to the clearing.

“Erp...”

A squeal slipped from his throat, tiny for his size. The old soldier’s corpse hung from a tree before him. A boy dressed in black sat at the roots beneath it. He looked up with eyes darker than midnight.

“Agh!”

The man scrambled to draw his sword, but his arm wouldn’t listen. He looked down to see that it was severed at the shoulder. Screams resounded in the darkness as he fell to the ground, writhing.

“Let’s get started, shall we? I doubt a grunt like you will have much to tell me, but you never know until you try.”

The boy’s boots crunched on the snow as he came closer, until he abruptly vanished from the man’s field of view.

“We have a long night ahead of us. Try to keep your mouth shut if you want. It’ll only make things more fun for me.”

A boot landed in the man’s back, smacking his face into the ground and sending him sprawling.

“What can you tell me about the Three Asuras? I’m particularly interested in Baal.”

Out of the corner of his eye, the man saw the boy holding his own sword. He hadn’t even seen him pick it up. With his one remaining arm, he waved his tormentor frantically away. “Stay back! Don’t you dare!”

The sword glinted as it bit into the flesh of his arm. Blood sprayed. His scream echoed in the night.

“That’s enough out of you.”

The soldier’s head fell with a grunt, leaving a trail of blood across the snow as it rolled. At last, it came to a stop next to a man’s feet—the captain who had been gone for so long. The man’s arms were bound and his mouth was stoppered by a rag.

“You’ll be sobering up around now, I expect.” Hiro reached down and removed the gag.

“What do you want?!” the captain pleaded. “I’ll tell you anything!”

“You can start by telling me about Baal.”

“I don’t know anything about the man! It’s true, I swear it! No one does, not even the prince!”

“And Prince Flaus allows someone so suspect to advise him?”

“The king trusted Baal, and so did the last king before that. Nobody has worked harder for Lebering. The people love him.”

“I already know all that. What else can you tell me?” The blade flashed in Hiro’s hands.

The captain’s teeth chattered as he spoke. “I’ve no more to tell, I swear it! I’m only a captain—I don’t know the Asuras’ secrets!”

“I see. Next question, then. Why are you attacking the south?”

“Why? Why?! They started it! They killed our king and abducted our princess! If that’s not just cause, what is?! Half of them are human, anyway! They were working with the empire!”

“Did you see the king die? Did you see the princess kidnapped?”

The man fell silent at that.

“You only heard about it secondhand, didn’t you? This Baal told you, or perhaps Flaus. Am I wrong?”

“No, that’s right. They said some of the old nobles had a hand in it too.”

“And what happened to them?”

“Most were killed on the spot, or so I heard. The ones who were spared were thrown in the cells.”

“Naturally,” Hiro mused. “They kept the ones they could use and killed those they couldn’t.”

The captain looked at Hiro askance. He didn’t seem to follow, but Hiro showed no sign of explaining himself. He raised his sword.

The blood drained from the man’s face to see the blade glint dully in the dark. “Wait! Please! Don’t kill me!”

“Don’t worry. I still have questions for you.”

“Whatever you want to know!”

“All right. Who gave the order to butcher innocent civilians?”

“That was Lord Baal.”

“And did you take part in the looting?”

“Not once, honest! Most of the looters are criminals he conscripted!”

Lebering’s zlosta blood might have thinned over the centuries, but more than half of the population was still unusually long-lived, and that was as true for criminals as it was for anybody else. Many of the kingdom’s penitentiary facilities were full to bursting. It seemed Flaus had taken advantage of the war to relieve that pressure by recruiting around five thousand offenders into his army.

“Their influence has been spreading among the soldiers. After Lord Baal gave the order, many of them took to pillaging. Not me, though! I take pride in my zlosta blood, I would never—”

The man never finished his sentence. His head toppled from his shoulders.

“I can spot a liar, you know.”

Hiro threw the sword away. He took one last look at the corpse and its frozen stare before turning his back.

“It seems I’m running out of reasons to let Baal and Flaus live.”

With that, he vanished wordlessly into a darkness so deep, not even the moon’s light could pierce it.

＊

It was early the next morning, before the break of dawn, when Hiro and the forces of the south caught up with the rebel army. The confrontation took place on a flat plain dotted with sparse outbreaks of trees.

Prince Flaus’s forces took to the field in three horizontal lines. They seemed undaunted by the prospect of battle. The first cohort arranged itself to spring into action at a moment’s notice, sending its archers to the fore and lining cavalry up behind to pounce on any opening in the enemy lines. A bloc of infantry reinforced the center.

“The spearhead formation,” Hiro mused. “Then we can’t expect them to go on the offensive.”

Also known as the turtle formation, the arrangement was designed to invite an enemy assault. It would taunt its prey with its unbreakable outer shell to lure them closer before snapping out to devour them whole.

“I’d hoped they’d throw caution to the wind and try to overwhelm us, but they aren’t letting their numbers go to their head. The commander’s a tough nut to crack.”

Whoever was in charge of the enemy forces understood the rules of war. They wouldn’t attempt something as foolhardy as an all-out charge. Indeed, they were actively taking advantage of the fact that Hiro’s troops were less numerous by forcing them to go on the offensive.

“Well, we could do this the traditional way, but that wouldn’t be much fun.” Hiro hopped down from his carriage.

Claudia followed him. “Where are you going?” she asked.

He looked back over his shoulder and grinned. “To ask them to surrender.”

“Have you taken leave of your senses? Surely you cannot expect them to accept?” Her brow furrowed, she wheeled her horse around to block his way.

“Can I ask you to let me through?”

“Not without an explanation. You must know that my brother will not entertain your demands.”

Flaus’s army had thirty thousand men. They had only five. Surrendering against those odds was unthinkable—but then, that was the point.

“We need to knock them off-balance somehow,” Hiro said. “And they won’t see this coming.”

“I suspect that you will be met with disdain rather than surprise.”

“That’s why I plan on angering them too. They’ll need a little provocation before they take the bait.”

“So that’s your plan? To enter their ranks as an emissary and cause havoc?”

“It won’t be that easy. They won’t let me get close. I’ll have to address them from a distance.”

Claudia breathed a sigh of resignation, evidently tired of trying to keep up. “Very well. Do as you please. Would you have me do anything in the meantime?”

“I’d appreciate it if you could ready a hundred riders. Tell them they’re to do exactly as I say.”

“I shall make certain of it.”

“I’ll have them fall back quickly enough, then go back to the plan. I’ll be counting on you.”

Claudia’s expression stiffened. “We’re walking a tightrope now, aren’t we?” she asked, her voice laden with anxiety. “We cannot afford even the slightest mistake.”

That was overstating it a little, Hiro thought. Even if his plan fell through, he could turn that failure into a later success. Anything short of total rout would be recoverable. Still, it would not be prudent to diffuse the tension overmuch. He didn’t want Claudia too nervous, but it wouldn’t do to let her get careless either.

In the end, he simply nodded in agreement. “See you on the other side,” he said, turning away, but then he spun back around with his arm outstretched. “Actually, can I borrow your bow and one of your arrows?”

“Not as such, but...” Claudia handed him the weapon and cocked her head quizzically as she watched him test its flex. “May I ask what you need it for? Will one arrow be enough?”

“Just watch. You’ll see soon enough.”

Smiling softly, Hiro set out for the front line. His black garb fluttered behind him, flapping at the air as he threaded through the soldiers’ uneasy ranks. He emerged into open space to feel the cold wind blowing over him, carrying the tension of the battlefield.

Before him, thirty thousand men stood arrayed across the snowfields. A ripple of surprise passed through them to see him approach alone, but any concern faded away as they realized that he was unarmed.

“Hear me, faithless rebels!” Hiro bellowed. “It is not too late to lay down your swords!”

His words carried clearly across the snowfields, but the enemy did not heed them. As Claudia had expected, their astonishment soon gave way to derision.

“Go back to sucking your mama’s tit, boy!”

Jeering laughter drifted back on the frozen wind.

Hiro grasped Excalibur’s hilt at his belt. “Then we will fight to the last man!” He drew the Heavenly Sovereign and held it high.

At this signal, the hundred riders at his back fanned out in a line and advanced. As the enemy archers drew back their bowstrings, Hiro thrust his arm out sideways.

“Halt!”

The riders kicked up a spray of snow as they skidded to a stop. At the same time, the sky darkened with enemy arrows. Hiro merely watched, unconcerned. He returned Excalibur to its sheath and raised his bow.

A breath later, the arrows fell, pouring down like a rain of gravel with a rumble that sent shivers down the spine. Wooden shafts carpeted the snow. The riders, however, suffered no casualties.

Disquiet spread through the enemy ranks to see that none of their targets had even been grazed.

Seeing his moment, Hiro raised his voice again. “Is this all the proud zlosta have to offer?! Truly, there is no more pathetic race in all of Soleil! Can your arrows only find women and children?!”

As his mockery settled in, the enemy’s front line broke. A hundred or so cavalry—a unit, perhaps—came charging toward them.

“Face me, coward!” A voice drifted across the snow. “I shall teach you to fear the zlosta!”

“No one takes bait like an idiot.” Hiro grinned to himself, then nocked his arrow. He drew back the bowstring, gauged the distance, and let loose.

The arrow whistled as it traced an arc through the air to land clean between the commanding officer’s eyes. A sickening crunch echoed across the battlefield. The man toppled from his horse, a lifeless corpse.

Hiro drew an enemy arrow from the ground and fired. Another soldier fell before he could get his bearings. Five more soon followed. With their commander slain and their comrades being picked off, the rebels’ momentum petered out as the immediacy of their peril set in.

Hiro turned around to address the cavalry unit behind him. “To your positions. Let’s teach them a lesson they won’t forget.”

“Yes, my lord!” The men raised their voices in unison and fell back.

Hiro returned his attention to the enemy riders, who were still in disarray. Lured far away from their lines, they were completely isolated.

“And as for you...you’ve served your purpose. Time to quit the stage.”

He drew Excalibur once more and lunged forward, sending a plume of snow dancing behind him. He closed on them like striking lightning. The swipe of his blade was a gentle caress as it parted a goggle-eyed soldier’s head from his shoulders.

Hiro ducked an incoming lance and sprang high into the air. The tip of Excalibur found his attacker’s throat as he soared over the man’s head, sending an arc of crimson spraying across the snow. As soon as he landed, he transitioned into a forward lunge to cleave a horse and rider in two.

“Yah!”

Moving too fast to see, he set about leading the enemy soldiers around by the nose. He ducked left, right, back, but invariably stepped in again to deal a killing blow. At last, the enemy army’s first cohort realized that something was wrong. Their ranks began to move as they hastened to save their comrades.

Hiro lifted a hand to his eyepatch and smiled thinly.

“What are you, you monster?!” a soldier cried as he charged him down.

“You’ll need to be faster than that.”

He cut the man down with a single blow, then put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. The signal summoned Muninn on horseback.

“Over here, chief!”

Hiro grasped the man’s hand and swung up onto the back of his horse. He turned to look back at the advancing enemy.

“Today, you’ll see the depths of hell. You will writhe and scream in the flames of perdition.” His lips pulled into a smile as he closed his fist around their ranks. “Do entertain me.”

His voice sounded almost exhilarated before the drumming of horseshoes snatched it away.

＊

Five thousand men ground into motion as the first cohort’s turtle formation transformed. Two wings of cavalry unfurled to the sides. The infantry in the center broke into a run, heedless of their heavy armor.

This was one of Schwartz’s eight formations, the dragon-wing formation. Named for its resemblance to a dragon taking flight, it was the one most frequently used in battle. Many nations favored it for its ease of transition from the spearhead.

“Are they trying to engulf us? My, how bold.”

Claudia sounded almost impressed as she murmured to herself atop her horse. She turned to survey her own forces. The southern army awaited the enemy charge in a simple line, its soldiers now more eager than nervous after the enemy’s gibes.

“Had we nothing up our sleeves, their numbers would likely overwhelm us.”

Both armies numbered five thousand, but many of Claudia and Hiro’s troops were wounded. In practical terms, they had only four thousand men. They had tried to obfuscate their numbers, but it was only a matter of time before the enemy cottoned on.

“There’s still the question of how to best guide their momentum toward the center, and I must judge the right timing to signal the cavalry.”

Claudia glanced around the surrounding terrain with a noise of consternation. Hiro had given her directions, but it fell to her to see them succeed, and she was not certain that she possessed the necessary decisiveness.

As she wrestled with her doubts, Huginn approached on horseback.

“I’ve spied out their formation, Your Ladyship!” the ex-sellsword cried. “They’ve cavalry to both sides, two thousand all told, and three thousand footmen in the center. The second cohort’s staying put. Seems the first came charging out all on its own!”

Perhaps they had mistaken their massacre of helpless commonfolk for evidence of strength. Perhaps the unfettered looting had degraded their chain of command. Perhaps the knowledge that they numbered thirty thousand had simply gone to their heads. Claudia set a finger to her daintily pointed chin and smiled. The enemy had numbers, but they seemed to expect a one-sided slaughter rather than a battle to the death. They lacked resolve.

With her course decided, she drew Hauteclaire from where it lay on her hip. “Raise the flags! The battle begins!”

Banners bearing the heraldry of Lebering unfurled all across the heart of the army. A horn blast shook the air. The cavalry on their flanks began to advance, churning up clouds of dust in its wake. The infantry braced for the enemy’s impact.

The blowing of the wind, the fluttering of the banners, the quiet music of the forest—all vanished beneath the approaching crunch of armored boots.

“Here they come!” Claudia cried. “Do not falter!”

The front line raised a mighty roar, and then battle was joined. Swords clanged and spear tips glinted, scattering sparks, spraying blood. Farther out, the southern army’s cavalry had also engaged their rebel counterparts. A plume of dust rose skyward where they clashed.

Huginn squinted at the melee. “Look, Your Ladyship! The center’s buckling!”

Claudia saw it too. The southern army’s center bowed inward as the soldiers began to flee. The rebels seemed to sense their enemy’s weakness and shifted their weight inward, concentrating their attacks on the breach. The princess, however, seemed unconcerned. If anything, she was pleased.

“It’s quite all right,” she said. “Lord Hiro will drive them back.”

“His Lordship’s there?!”

They had concentrated conscripted commonfolk in the center to create a deliberate weak point. All for the sake of victory, Hiro had said. It was a trick; a ruse to draw the enemy in while minimizing their own losses.

“The soldiers have lost their confidence. It will impede our future plans for them to grow too accustomed to retreat, so Lord Hiro decided upon this little charade. I had never imagined he might use the commonfolk so, but I daresay he will succeed in restoring the soldiers’ spirits.” Claudia looked back at the front line. “He is quite something, isn’t he? But then, what else would one expect from the scion of Mars?”

Fear would soon spread through the enemy ranks, if it had not already. Perhaps they were panicking even now, fighting desperately to escape the jaws of darkness. Claudia pictured the sight in her mind’s eye as she stared unflinchingly at the field.

＊

The center had broken. The enemy was pouring through the breach. The soldiers of the southern army fought valiantly to hold them off, but the rebel onslaught was as vicious and implacable as a storm surge.

The middle files were made up of civilian units—conscripts from among the commonfolk. For most, this was their first battle. With no military training beyond whatever scraps of knowledge they already had, they were quick to buckle. Experience, resolve, discipline—they were deficient to the enemy in many respects, and all made themselves known as soon as the melee broke out.

Time to start pushing back. Morale is at rock bottom. The men could break and run at any moment.

This was the moment to bolster the troops’ confidence. If the conscripts fought hard, the rest would fight harder, and the army would grow in strength and cohesion. Encouraging that friendly rivalry had been one of Hiro’s goals when concocting this plan. It would ignite the soldiers’ flagging resolve, compensate for the conscripts’ weaknesses, and serve to invite the enemy in deeper.

“Out of my way, brat!” a charging soldier snarled.

“An opportunity like this won’t come by again. I have to make what use of it I can.”

“Agh!”

Hiro lopped off the man’s head. His body toppled to the ground, blood spraying from its severed stump.

“My men will feast on you and grow stronger, until they are the army I need them to be.”

A host of foes bore down on him, filling his vision. Furious battle cries shook the air. With an annoyed flick of Excalibur, Hiro sent one head rolling, then another, and another. Blood slicked the ground.

“This is the price you pay for your excesses. Now I will show you what fear truly is.”

He strode forward, the dreadful might emanating from him freezing his enemies in place.

“Raaaaaagh!”

The conscripts raised a cry as they charged past him, swords in hands. On the battlefield, hesitation meant death. Countless boots trampled the rebels where they fell.

Dishonorable though they might be, however, the enemy were still zlosta, and some were uncommonly hardy for foot soldiers. One such man stood on the field, brandishing a greatsword as long as he was tall. Viscera sprayed as his swings sent soldiers flying.

“Mongrel scum!” he roared. “You dare turn on your betters?!”

It would be dangerous to allow him to stall their momentum. Hiro caught the greatsword with a lazy motion—not with his blade, but with his hand.

“Weak.” He smirked. “If you’d been pureblood, I would have lost my fingers.”

“What... But... You...!” The man’s face contorted, not in rage but in surprise.

“It looks like you’re a mongrel too.”

Hiro released his grip on the greatsword and flourished Excalibur as its wielder’s bulk lurched forward. A gentle wind blew around his enemy. A confused noise left the man’s lips as his head slid oh-so-easily from his shoulders and struck the ground with a thud.

“Now, who’s next?”

Hiro leveled his sword at the soldiers around him. They shrank back in fear. His eyes narrowed with disparagement for a moment, and then he was on them. They fought tooth and nail, but in vain; Excalibur’s gleaming blade left only corpses in its wake.

The conscripts raised a battle cry as they charged along the trail of blood and gore that he created. With a heroic effort, they pushed the enemy back, and their fervor quickly spread throughout the rest of the troops. By the time Hiro finally stopped, bodies lay in heaps around him.

“Time to close out this battle,” he said to the man before him. “With your death.”

In front of him was the enemy commander, the last obstacle in his bloodstained path: Garius van Sarzand of the Three Asuras.

The tall man leaped down from his horse and grinned. “So, you take to the front lines yourself to rally your men! Consider me impressed! You fight like a true warrior.” He drew his sword from his belt. With a quiet exhalation, he lifted it into a high guard. “But I would expect nothing less from Mars’s progeny. It’s enough to make a man’s blood run hot!”

“Careful, now. The reaper loves overconfidence.”

“I’ll cut him down, and you besides! Then all the world will recognize my might!” Garius spread his legs wider and settled into a battle stance. His eyes flashed. “Besides, you would lecture me on arrogance? You, who fight on the vanguard yourself? You, who believe that your presence alone will turn the tide of battle? Please. I overestimate myself no more than you.”

His blade slashed through the fetid air, but Hiro easily leaned out of the way.

“Your concern is touching but misplaced. I never overestimate myself. I learned that lesson the hard way a long time ago.”

“Bold words, boy! We’ll see if you still look so smug with a scar across your face!”

Garius took a heavy step forward and unleashed a flurry of blows.

“Men like you all think fighting is nothing more than swinging a sword around,” Hiro said. “There’s no one simpler, no one easier to lure into doing what I want. Usually, I’d want to keep that kind of stupidity around, but this time I’m afraid I don’t have that luxury.”

He leaned back as the blade sliced past the tip of his nose, twisted aside to avoid a thrust at his abdomen, and kicked upward to knock it askew. With every attack dodged, his mind reclaimed a little space to breathe, which it used to predict and evade the next. In spite of Garius’s onslaught, he never moved one step from where he stood.

“Ngh... This...cannot be...”

In time, Garius began to tire. His movements slowed.

“The gulf between us...cannot be this great!”

The Asura’s attacks grew clumsier as his exhaustion mounted and his anger swelled. At last, one particularly wild swing bit into the earth. Hiro laid his foot on the blade and raised Excalibur to strike.

“Thanks for the fight back at the banquet. Unfortunately, it seems even the Asuras aren’t much of a challenge one-on-one.”

His slash carved Garius open from shoulder to hip, splitting ribs and tearing through vitals. Blood sprayed from the Asura’s chest. Even so, the man planted his feet on the earth and refused to fall.

“Gah! You make a fool of me again, boy. That I wouldn’t land a single blow...”

At last, his strength gave out and he crumpled to the ground, hacking up crimson gobbets. One last whisper passed his lips.

“Baal...will not fall...so easily...”

As the light left his eyes at last, a cheer went up from the southern army.

Hiro cast his eyes across the field. The rebels’ second cohort was stirring. They must have realized that the first’s offensive had gone wrong.

“That’s one battle down. Now we just have to—”

Huginn rode up to interrupt him. “I spy movement from the enemy’s second and third cohorts, Your Lordship! They’re headed this way!”

Hiro grasped her outstretched hand and hoisted himself onto her steed. “Then it sounds like it’s time for an orderly retreat. Do you have your banner?”

“Right here!”

Huginn took up the flag of Lebering hanging by her horse’s flank and held it high. Horns sounded from the main body of the force and drums began to beat. As the clashing of swords faded from across the battlefield, a change came over the enemy’s first cohort too. With Garius’s death, they fell into retreat.

“Reform our ranks as we fall back. Tell the officers not to pursue.”

There was still a healthy distance between the southern army and the enemy’s second cohort. As long as nobody jumped the gun and rode out in search of glory, they would have the time to retreat safely and consolidate their defenses. Besides, the more enemies survived the day’s massacre, the more their fear would infect their comrades, and the more strategies Hiro could devise to exploit it.

“Right away, Your Lordship!”

With a crisp reply, Huginn turned her horse about. As she left, Muninn cantered up on his own steed, covered in blood. He had clearly been in the thick of the fighting.

“You know,” he observed lazily, “zlosta ain’t all that much different from humans. Stick ’em and they fall over just the same.”

Hiro could not help but be impressed. “Good work, Muninn. I daresay the day is yours.”

“You mean it? Thank the gods! Now the boss won’t be after my hide!”

Muninn raised his spear above his head and let out a whoop of joy.

＊

“The rebel army has fallen back and set up camp, sir,” the soldier said, his head bowed. “At last count, they were at rest.”

Hiro, back with the main force, was busy reading a report. It was not clear whether he was listening.

The soldier’s brow creased, but he continued. “It appears that they are sending out scouts. What would you have us do?”

Hiro at last looked up from the sheet of paper. The fallen snow glowed a fiery red in the setting sun, sending flecks of smoldering embers dancing across the soldier’s armor, although the effect owed just as much to the blood spattering his steel.

“Tell the commanders of units seven through ten to lie in wait and capture them,” Hiro ordered.

The fighting was over for the time being. He had prepared defenses against a night raid as a precaution, but it was unlikely that the enemy intended to mount one.

“Yes, sir.” The soldier brought his left hand to his chest with a clatter.

Hiro stowed the report in his pocket. “Oh, and instruct the officers that they are to remain watchful of our surroundings.”

“As you command!”

Once the soldier was out of sight, Hiro set out to the scheduled strategy meeting.

“I’d hoped to chip away two or three thousand more of them, but no matter.”

The southern army’s camp was sandwiched by woodland to the east and west. Hiro had chosen the spot in case the rebel army pursued, but the precaution had proved unnecessary. Apparently, some among the rebels were thinking clearly enough not to let their anger get the better of them. Still, he welcomed the opportunity to let the soldiers rest early.

“And morale is up. That’s the real victory. Now we just have to make our next move before the enemy tries to retake the initiative.”

Hiro entered the tent to find Claudia, Huginn, and Muninn waiting inside. The meeting would only include the four of them to begin with. The officers would arrive once they had taken stock of their units’ losses.

Huginn and Muninn made to bow, but he raised a hand to stay them. “At ease. We’ll start by going over how things stand.”

He made his way to the table in the center of the tent. A map of southern Lebering was unfurled atop it. Pawns indicated where traps had been laid.

“As you please.” Claudia nodded. “First, our enemy’s losses. We estimate that their first cohort has been depleted by two thousand men, three thousand including severe and walking wounded. As for us, we have lost around a thousand, wounded included. That leaves us with around three thousand men able and willing to fight.”

She placed a pawn on top of their current location.

“Our spies report no changes in the enemy encampment. In other words, they have yet to make a move.”

She laid down another pawn a short distance away, where Flaus’s army made their camp.

“They appear set on maintaining a defensive position. One might conclude that the first cohort’s defeat has made them cautious.”

“You sure that’s all there is to it?” Huginn interrupted. “They ain’t budged an inch since they made camp. Save for sending out looters, that is.”

Claudia’s brow creased. “Do you believe that they are planning something?”

“I figure it’s likely. They’ve got the numbers, but they ain’t using ’em. Weird is what it is. They’re up to something, mark my words.”

“A night raid, perhaps?” Claudia glanced at Hiro.

He shook his head. “I don’t think it’s likely. If there’s no movement in their camp, they mustn’t have started preparing, but they’ve left it too late to field a large force without being detected.”

Aside from anything else, the enemy would have to rebuild the first cohort after the damage it had suffered, which would leave it with no time to organize a nocturnal offensive. The second and third cohorts were still unscathed, but it would be foolish to erode their numbers in battle when they would be needed in the weeks ahead.

“They might try to catch us by surprise, but we’re prepared for a night raid, and we’ve laid plenty of traps.”

They had control. Things were proceeding smoothly. It was time to make their next move.

“We’ll stage a night raid of our own,” Hiro announced.

Claudia’s eyebrows rose. “I cannot imagine we will find them unprepared.”

For as long as military strategy had existed, a night raid had been a staple means of overturning a numerical disadvantage. Needless to say, however, it was no use if the enemy saw it coming.

“I’m not talking about doing anything that would lose us men. Just making noise and spreading confusion.”

“Then I presume your aim is to tire the enemy out. But we do not have the numbers to cover for the men we would use.”

She was right. There would be no point in exhausting the enemy if a significant portion of their own troops would also be too sleep-deprived to fight.

Hiro only nodded. “That’s fine. We won’t be fighting tomorrow. They’ll have the chance to rest.”

“We won’t?” Claudia’s slender eyebrows pulled together doubtfully.

“How can you say that, Your Lordship?” Huginn interjected, alarmed. She didn’t seem to have followed Hiro’s reasoning. Still, walking her through it would only encourage her to rely on him for answers. He would prefer that she thought about the problem herself.

As he wondered how best to handle the matter, an unfamiliar soldier burst into the tent.

“My apologies for interrupting, Your Highness!”

The man was breathing hard. With fumbling hands, he produced two letters from his pocket. Hiro looked them over, then glanced at the soldier’s arm. It bore a white armband embroidered with the numeral V.

“You’re from the Fifth Legion?”

“Yes, Your Highness. The Knights of the White Fangs.”

The Knights of the White Fangs fell under the personal command of the second prince. It would not be an overstatement to say that this man was a messenger from Selene himself. The letters he proffered, bowing deeply, were probably from the prince too.

Hiro took the letters, unfolded the first, and expelled a sigh. “There’s nothing here but your name.”

The letter was blank but for a small note verifying the carrier’s identity. Hiro showed it to the messenger. The man blanched and pressed his forehead to the ground.

“H-His Highness says that talk can wait until you meet face-to-face.” His voice trembled, like a man anticipating a death sentence—as was indeed the penalty for deceiving a member of the royal family.

“Relax,” Hiro said. “I’m not offended.” With a sigh, he settled into a chair. The intent of the blank letter was clear—Selene was giving him the opportunity to appeal for reinforcements. “Where is the second prince right now?”

“His Highness is gathering his forces near the Lebering border. He is ready to move as soon as you send word.”

“If I wrote to him for aid, how quickly could he get here?”

“I would estimate eight days, Your Highness.”

“Good. Then I have a message for him.” Hiro gestured for a sheet of paper from Claudia and handed it to the soldier. “Tell him that I have defeated the rebel army.”

“Excuse me?” three voices said—Claudia, Huginn, and Muninn.

Hiro approached the messenger and clapped him on the shoulder. “You won’t be lying to him. By the time you reach him, it will be true.”

“But, Your Highness...” The man didn’t seem to believe him. His expression turned deeply uneasy.

“If you’re concerned, there’s no need to set out right away. Put some food in your belly. Rest your feet.”

Hiro turned his attention outside and called for one of the sentries. One came running.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Bring this man something to eat and ready him a fresh horse.”

“At once, Your Highness. This way, if you please.”

The messenger left the tent, escorted by the sentry, looking confused all the while. Hiro turned back to Claudia and the others to find them glaring at him. Their eyes demanded explanations.

“I’ll be happy to answer questions if you have them. But first...let’s see how our enemy responds.”

Hiro’s smile deepened as he cast his gaze over the map.