Shinwa Densetsu no Eiyuu no Isekaitan - Volume 3 - Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Wisdom and Foolishness

An oppressive silence hung over the rebel army’s command tent. The first cohort’s losses were the biggest reason, but there was also a shared indignation that humans—and conscripted commonfolk, at that—had dealt the proud zlosta such a humiliating defeat.

“For haste’s sake, I shall abridge the details, but the essence of the matter is that over half of the first cohort is no longer fit for battle.”

“I never would have imagined they would fall for such an obvious ruse.”

“It’s the price we pay for forming a regiment of common criminals. No notion of discipline. They act only to satisfy their base cravings.”

“Can the cohort be reformed? It would be a sore loss.”

Several advisors conversed in the middle of the tent, their faces uniformly grave. All knew that there was little hope of reforming the first cohort. Its officer class, including its commander, Garius van Sarzand, had been annihilated in the battle.

“We could promote lower-ranking officers to the positions. Have them fill in temporarily.”

“Even assuming they could fill those boots, who would take overall command?”

“There’s no one left who’s seen enough battles. We’d be dooming the cohort in the next engagement.”

Lebering had sheltered beneath the aegis of the empire for many years. Decades had passed since it had last known war. Most of the younger soldiers had only ever fought monsters and bandits.

“Where’s Lord Baal got to?” one of the advisors wondered aloud. “We need his guidance.”

“He’s not been seen since the first cohort’s defeat,” an older man answered.

“Do you know where he is?”

“No one does. He’s been acting strange ever since he saw Mars’s scion take to the field.”

“Blasted shame the boy didn’t run when he had the chance. Now that he’s with the southern army, he’s causing us no end of grief. Have you ever known anyone to handle a bow like that?”

“The troops are saying he took Garius’s head himself.”

“Hmph. When all’s told, he’s a mortal man like all the rest. We can think of ways to outfox him later. For now, we need to rebuild our forces.”

As the last man’s words left his mouth, the tent went silent. Baal, the last remaining Asura, stood in the entryway.

“Send the first cohort to the rear,” the hooded man commanded. “They will be our reserves. Consider them spare bodies to put wherever they will be most useful. Perhaps we could integrate them into our other units, but I doubt many will welcome criminals.”

The advisors bowed in unison. Baal acknowledged them with a nod, then he strode to the center of the tent and looked down at the map laid out on the ground. As usual, his hood hid his face and rendered his expression unreadable, but none questioned it.

“My lord, if I may, where have you been?” an advisor asked.

“Relaying the events of the battle to Prince Flaus.”

“When you were so urgently needed on the field?”

Baal’s mouth, all that peeked out from beneath the shadow of his hood, curled into a smile. “We needed to lose our first battle in order to light a fire beneath our soldiers’ heels. All that matters is that the second cohort is not affected. Besides, my presence was not required. You managed well enough by yourselves.”

“You mean to say that you anticipated this?”

“I did. Well, I did not expect Garius to fall, but that is neither here nor there. He was not a popular commander. He too often let his love of battle go to his head.”

“And the first cohort was where we assigned the criminals,” the advisor mused. “As far as the rest of the army was concerned, they were nothing but a nuisance.”

“I will admit,” Baal conceded, “Mars’s scion lending his aid to Haniel’s forces did catch me by surprise. I had expected him to flee. The rest, however, fell well within my expectations.”

An aged man stroked his gray-flecked beard as he turned to the Asura. “Then how should we proceed, my lord?”

“The last battle ought to have cured our troops of any reckless disobedience. Our strategy remains unchanged. We focus all of our efforts on defeating the southern army.”

“Then we shall—”

A sudden noise interrupted the advisor. Drums were beating outside.

“Are we under attack?!”

The men paled. They stood, ready to rush out to see what was happening.

“Hold,” Baal commanded. “We will only set the soldiers ill at ease by venturing out in disarray. No matter what you see, do not panic.”

He took up position at their head and led them through the tent flap. Although the sun had set and darkness now pressed in from all around, the starlight from above and the bonfires around the camp rendered it light enough to see. In every direction, soldiers looked around in confusion, but any plumes of fire or other material signs of attack were notably absent.

“I see. A childish trick.” Baal flagged down an officer as he hurried past and addressed the man with cool clarity. “Our enemy is playing games. We will not entertain them. Put an end to this unsightly racket. Triple the palisades, set up more bonfires, change the watch every hour, and instruct the officers to launch fire arrows at anything that makes so much as a squeak. That should quiet them.”

“At once, my lord!”

As the man left, the elderly advisor approached Baal. “What do you suppose they’re planning, my lord?” he asked.

“Perhaps they balked upon seeing that our defenses were heavier than they expected and are now trying to exhaust us. Perhaps they are trying to cause confusion to give their spies an opportunity to slip into our camp. One of the two, I don’t doubt.” Baal’s voice was absolutely confident in his assessment. “Now, get some sleep. We’re in no danger of being attacked so long as we’re not foolish enough to take their bait.”

He pulled his hood lower over his face and turned away.

“Where are you going, my lord?” the advisor asked after him.

“To reassure Prince Flaus. This disturbance will have unsettled him.”

Baal strode away, muttering to himself as he went.

“They walk the same. Carry themselves the same. And the presence I sensed was his. Mars’s blood must run as thick as it ever did.” He turned over long-faded memories in his mind as he walked. “And they have the same penchant for provocative tactics. It is as though I fight Schwartz himself. At last, I have the chance to fulfill our lord’s final wish and avenge these thousand years of shame. I will kill this scion of Mars. I must.”

The upheaval in the camp had subsided by the time he reached Prince Flaus’s tent. The inside was dark, and an unpleasant gloom hung in the air.

“How are you feeling?” Baal asked the darkness.

A shape stirred within. “Well enough,” came a short reply.

“You did admirably, Your Highness. Your resilience has earned you a place as one of our lord’s dead champions.”

“I am dead, then?”

“Oh, yes, quite dead. It took thirteen thousand lives to recall your soul. Only human lives, unfortunately, but what’s a man to do?”

Flaus grinned. “As long as they are not kin, I care not how many you spend. I am only surprised that the power of the Origin came at so cheap a price.”

Baal’s lips curled at that word, but he otherwise said nothing. His figure shuddered in the darkness.

“Is something amiss?” Flaus asked.

Baal’s silhouette shook its head. “Not at all. More importantly, I bring urgent news. The second prince of the empire is summoning troops to the border from all across his lands. There look to be fifty thousand in all. If the fourth prince should send for aid, they will be here in eight days.”

“And we have only thirty thousand. Less, now, with the first cohort’s losses.”

“Indeed, but there is nothing to fear. Every plan they might make is plain as day to me. We need only wait for them to act and see which they choose.”

An amused titter echoed in the darkness. The air creaked and swirled, growing ever more foul.

＊

Stars studded the sky like jewels. The night wind cut to the bone, but the moon’s glow was soft and warm. By its light, Hiro looked over a letter—the same letter that the second prince’s messenger had delivered alongside his own blank missive. It came from Liz, who even now was bound for Faerzen at the head of twenty thousand men. Faerzen’s well-maintained roads had allowed the enemy easy ingress, but the reverse would also be true; it would take her only three days after sending the letter to meet up with Aura.

The Faerzen Resistance worries me, but I need to see things through in Lebering first.

Too many things didn’t add up in this conflict, more than he could hope to shine a light on in a single day. He needed to penetrate his enemy’s schemes by tomorrow, or the day after that at the latest.

If only I had the time to play around with them a bit longer...

He returned to his tent, unfurled a map on the ground, and sat down.

I need to push them into doing something, anything. But how?

As he stared down at the map, the imperial border caught his eye. Prince Selene was massing his forces there at that very moment... But no, that chalice was very much poisoned. Taking it could mean the end of Lebering.

But if I can make the enemy think I’m going for it, maybe they’ll slip up.

He gave a discontented hrmm, touched his fingers to his eyepatch, and expelled a small sigh.

I’ll give them a good shake. Maybe something will fall out.

If the enemy took the bait, it would be all the easier to ensnare them in his schemes and lead them to destruction. He sank deeper and deeper into a fugue, placing pawn after pawn on the map, devising and discarding ideas.

“Your Lordship?”

Hiro looked up to see Huginn on one knee before him. With some surprise, he realized his focus must have been so intense that he hadn’t even noticed her come in.

“Back with us, are you?” she said with a wry smile. “Five times I had to call you. What if I’d snuck in with a blade? I know you keep us all close by, but we can’t be with you in an eyeblink.”

That, at least, was not a concern. He would have sensed a would-be killer’s bloodlust, and even if a prospective assassin disguised their intent, the Black Camellia would not be fooled.

“What are you doing here so late?”

“I saw your light was still on. Figured you could use a bite to eat.”

Huginn’s tent was not far from Hiro’s own. Concerned for her safety with so few other women in the army, he had made certain to keep her close by. Muninn shared her accommodations, earning the jealousy of most of his comrades in the process.

“It’s not much,” she added. “Just soup and bread.”

“No, thank you. I was just starting to get hungry.”

She set herself down opposite him and looked idly over the map. “Are you always up this late? Thinking up strategies night after night?”

“Not every night. Sometimes I turn in early.”

“But not tonight?”

“I couldn’t sleep. Too much to think about.”

“What if I slept beside you? Would that help?”

Whatever leap of logic she had performed to come out with that idea, Hiro couldn’t follow it. “I’ll be fine. Now that I’ve had something to eat, I’ll be out like a light.”

“Then how about I sing you a lullaby? You know, for sweet dreams.”

How was she coming up with this? Hiro pressed a hand to his brow as his head began to throb. “Maybe not,” he said with a shrug. “I wouldn’t want the troops to find out.”

Huginn’s brow furrowed as she narrowed her eyes. “The boss said lots of generals show their strength by keeping women on their arm. You saying he was wrong?”

Hiro shook his head, internally cursing Garda and his loose lips. It was true that some commanders employed arm candy to demonstrate their authority, but that had its drawbacks. In the present situation, the troops would respond poorly to the practice.

“Let’s just drop it for today. Head back to your tent and get some rest.”

“And leave you without a guard? Not on your life.”

Huginn clearly wasn’t going to be persuaded. Most likely, she just wanted to stay because she enjoyed his company. As Hiro sighed, an idea came to him.

“Fine,” he said. “You can help me think.”

Trading thoughts with someone else could inspire ideas that would never occur alone.

“You mean it, Your Lordship?!” Huginn’s eyes flew open, sparkling with delight.

Hiro nodded and placed another pawn on the map.

＊

The next morning, Hiro’s southern army faced off again with the rebels. Their formation was orderly. Despite their lesser numbers, their faces betrayed no flicker of fear.

The rebels, too, were invigorated. They raised fierce battle cries in the early morning air, proclaiming for all to hear that they were willing to fight at any time—a show likely meant to break the southern army’s spirits.

“How would you resolve this standoff, Lord Hiro?” A sweet voice rose above the foe’s taunts to ring in Hiro’s ears.

“Hm?” He looked to his side.

Claudia stood next to his carriage, surveying the enemy lines with keen eyes. Hiro followed her gaze. The rebels lay in wait in exactly the same formation they had adopted the previous day.

“How would you defeat us if you were in their place?”

Hiro nodded thoughtfully. “I’d make a deliberate blunder and gauge how we responded. I might end up paying for it, but it would still be better than an endless staring contest.”

“Then why do you suppose they don’t?”

“Perhaps they’re still scoping out the field. Or perhaps they have a plan that we don’t know about.”

Claudia nodded in understanding. “An ambush, then. Perhaps they’re sending their forces behind us to catch us unawares.”

“If they were, they’d be trying harder to provoke us. Besides, the terrain’s against them. We have too good a view from here.”

If an enemy detachment tried to sneak around through the snowfields, the scouts would spot them immediately. Such a force would have to be hiding in the woods, but that would require the rest of the rebel force to draw the southern army near so they could spring their trap—or at least, such was Hiro’s reasoning.

He surveyed the battlefield. “I don’t see any signs of an ambush. As far as I can tell, the enemy means to stay right where they are.”

“Staring us down won’t win them any victories,” Claudia said, eyeing the rebel lines suspiciously.

Hiro shrugged. “At the end of the day, what they’re trying to do is none of our business. We can just do what we like.”

He called a messenger over.

“Yes, Your Highness?” the man said.

“Command the vanguard to advance,” he instructed. “The rest of the army is to proceed as planned.”

“At once!” The messenger bowed and cantered away.

Next, Hiro beckoned Muninn. He whispered a sentence or two in the man’s ear, then handed him a scroll. Muninn stowed the paper carefully in his chest pocket and inclined his head.

“Don’t put yourself in too much danger,” Hiro said.

“No worries on that score, chief. I run just as well as I fight.”

“Still, if anything goes wrong, abandon the plan and flee. This isn’t worth risking your life over.”

“You got it, chief. See you on the other side.”

With one last bow, Muninn left. At that moment, the vanguard ground into motion. As a cloud of dust rose over the front lines, Claudia mounted her horse and approached once more.

“It’s time for me to be away,” she said. “Are you quite certain you will be all right?”

Hiro answered the concern in her eyes with a breezy shrug. “I’ll be fine. You’ve got the more important job, anyway.”

“Perhaps, but if the enemy were to realize what you’re up to...”

“Then I suppose I’ll mount a heroic charge and go out in a blaze of glory.”

“That would be quite the sight, I’m sure.” Claudia giggled into the back of her hand before turning her horse about. “But time is pressing, and I have duties to attend to.”

She merged with her unit and rode away. Once she was out of sight, Hiro returned his gaze to the fore, where a curtain of snowflakes swirled in the wind.

“That’s all the pieces in place,” he whispered to himself with the faintest hint of amusement. “Now all that’s left to do is run.”

He gestured to the standard-bearer, who unfurled a great flag of Lebering. The army began to advance—not forward, nor to the sides, but gently backward.

At that moment, a messenger emerged from the blizzard that blanketed the battlefield. “Lord Hiro!” the man shouted. “The enemy is holding position. Our vanguard has deployed to the flanks to intercept the first cohort.”

“Order them to fall back. Once we’ve gained enough distance, we’ll make camp and rest.”

There was no need to waste valuable energy. If they tired themselves out, they would be done for.

As the southern army receded, the rebels decided that enough was enough and moved forward to close the distance. Even so, they maintained their defensive posture. Jeers and taunts rose from their lines, but nothing more. Hiro ignored them and continued his steady retreat.

The moving standoff lasted all throughout the day, until the sun set and night descended.

＊

“I see they’re back again tonight,” Baal remarked. “Making noise and little else.”

He and his advisors were again in the command tent in the middle of their encampment. Their strategy meeting had concluded, but the advisors remained, looks of uncertainty on their faces. They hesitated to return to their tents for fear of an enemy attack.

“My lord, is there truly nothing to be done about this din?” one pleaded. “I’ve barely slept a wink, and it’s making the soldiers nervous.”

Baal understood the man’s frustration. The enemy showed no sign of actually attacking, but they were beating drums, blowing flutes, and generally making a racket. The ploy was making it impossible to rest, and the effects on the army’s mental state were undeniable.

“We have already taken defensive measures. You may return to your tents secure that you will come to no harm.”

There was nothing to be gained from taking the enemy’s bait and riding out. They would find footprints at best and an ambush at worst.

“We have better things to do than waste our energy chasing after shadows,” Baal concluded. “Pay them no attention.”

“But, my lord...”

The advisors’ faces said plainly that while they understood his point, they did not find it satisfactory. Reassurances would not help them sleep any more soundly when the enemy was raising a ruckus just next door. The fact of the matter, however, was that there was nothing they could do but plug their ears.

“Our guard is too tight for them to attempt a night raid,” Baal snapped, “and that is my final word on the matter. If anybody raises it again, I will stuff their ears with cotton and put them to sleep myself.”

He looked down at the map on the desk. The enemy’s movements earlier in the day had been unusual on several counts. The vanguard had raised a great cloud of dust, and by the time it had dispersed, a thousand men were missing. Baal had naturally sent out scouts into the surrounding forest after the vanished soldiers, but he had found no trace of them. With the rest of the southern army retreating, he had eventually given up the search and pursued the main force.

In the end, despite remaining wary of potential ambushes, nothing had happened all day. It seemed the men had truly vanished. Even so, it was hard to believe that the enemy had no plan. If there had been no reason for their split, the forces left behind would have shown signs of confusion, but their defense had remained impeccable over the course of their retreat.

“Perhaps they’re aiming to buy time to join forces with the Fifth Legion. Well, let them try.”

The second prince’s forces would outnumber Baal’s if they arrived in time, but if the southern army was relying on that faint hope, its commander was frankly naive.

“If that’s their play, we’ll crush them before they make it.”

He had yet to take the full measure of Mars’s scion, but he had seen enough to tell that the man would be dangerous at the head of a larger army.

As he pondered, a point on the map caught his attention. He narrowed his eyes. “Interesting. If this southward course continues, it will take us past Schnee Fortress.”

As likely as not, the southern army intended to hole up there until the Fifth Legion’s arrival, at which point they would trap Baal between the two forces. Indeed, that was their only chance at victory. Baal had already foreseen the wisest plans they could make. The battlefield lay in the palm of his hand.

“Lord Baal,” one of the advisors said, “there is one other thing. Our scouts found this.” The man held out a scroll of paper.

Baal suspended his pondering and had the man read it. Within was a plea for aid to the Fifth Legion.

“And how exactly did this fall into their hands?” he asked.

“The scouts happened across a suspected enemy soldier on reconnaissance. The man got away, but he dropped this as he fled.”

“Oh? How convenient for us, that our foe should misplace such an important document.”

Baal’s smile grew wider. This was base intimidation, a foolish play. If the enemy commander had any sense, he would be ashamed at having sealed his own doom. Baal could not help but grin as mirth swelled in his chest.

“How tragically idiotic. I imagine they hoped to broaden their options. Instead, they have culled them to none.”

Most likely, they had fed the letter into his hands to redirect his attention to the Fifth Legion, or perhaps even to convince him to drop his pursuit entirely and go after the second prince instead.

“Ironic. All they have told me is that I have nothing to fear.”

They needn’t have dropped this letter to remind him of the Fifth Legion’s presence. He had kept it constantly in mind since the conflict had begun. They had dug their own graves and gained nothing for the trouble.

“An arrogant ploy. Did they truly believe they could defeat me with fewer than three thousand men? It will be all too easy to outwit such presumptuousness.” Baal narrowed down his long list of schemes, searching for the one that would most efficiently drive their foe to ruin. “If they mean to make their last stand at Schnee Fortress...”

Ah, there he had it. They planned to hole up there and occupy his attention while their vanished detachment struck from behind. And considering their fewer numbers, the attack was all but guaranteed to come at night.

“So that is the purpose of all this nighttime racket. They mean to lull us into complacency.”

But now Baal had seen through their plans. He would bury the War God’s scion in the grave he had dug for himself, shatter the second prince’s army, and lay waste to the northern territories...and in time, the rest of the empire would fall too.

“The time is nigh for the zlosta to erase our old disgrace. Soon, Soleil will know the terror of our rule once more.”

But until then, he would enjoy watching this would-be War God succumb to despair as his foolish schemes fell apart around him.

＊

The twenty-fifth day of the tenth month of Imperial Year 1023

Again, the day saw the two armies face off in silence. Hiro yawned as he surveyed the rebel ranks from his commanding position to the rear of the southern forces.

“Another day of nothing. Good for us, but it does get dull.”

No blood stained the battlefield. No clashing of steel echoed across the snow. There were only two armies hurling jeers at one another. Soon enough, Hiro mused, even their taunts would become rote.

An advisor approached him. “It is time, Lord Hiro. What shall we do?”

“Fall back, just like yesterday. If the enemy comes after us, shower them with arrows, then reverse course and meet them.”

At times like these, smaller numbers could be advantageous. The enemy would flinch to see weaker prey turning around to bite, sending their ranks into disarray: an effect that would quickly snowball throughout the entire army. Their losses would be severe, and their faces would be slate-gray by the time they finally rebuilt their fighting force.

“Their numbers will make them overconfident. Their commanders might be cautious, but their prudence won’t carry through to the lower ranks, especially in an army so lacking in discipline.”

That would be all the more true if the troops were riding high on burning towns and slaughtering innocent civilians. The ease of it would only swell their egos.

“We’ll retreat as planned,” Hiro concluded.

He gestured to the standard-bearer. The army began to reenact the motions of the previous day. The distance between the two forces slowly grew, but the rebels showed no sign of closing it. Soon enough, another sunset arrived without them trading anything more than glares.

The sun sank and the moon rose, as the laws of nature decreed. The southern army made their camp, set up a vigilant watch, and began to rest. With the troops permitted a small amount of alcohol, the atmosphere was lively, and soldiers chatted merrily in small groups throughout the encampment.

Hiro summoned the officers to the commander’s tent in the center. They assembled around a long table, every face drawn with anxiety. All of their eyes were on Hiro in the head seat.

“After observing the enemy’s actions today,” he announced in lieu of a greeting, “I have made some deductions.”

The officers’ eyes grew wider at that.

“Does this mean you’ve divined their plans, sir?” one man asked.

With a self-assured smile, Hiro nodded. “I cannot say for certain, but yes, I am confident.”

“Then ought we adjust our strategy?”

“No, we will proceed as planned. As I said, I mean to use all of your proposals.”

He had made a promise and he intended to keep it. If possible, he wanted every one of his advisors’ ideas to see the light of day.

One officer still had the shadow of doubt on his brow. “Is it wise to be so inflexible in our approach?” he asked. “Does that not risk defeat?”

“That’s what I’m here for. To lead you to victory.” Hiro gestured to the map and picked up a pawn from the side of the table. He pushed it westward until it reached a fort. “Tomorrow we will retreat to Schnee Fortress, making it clear all the while that we are setting up a trap. That is where we will make our final stand and where all of our plans will come to fruition.”

On that day, the snow would run red, as though a great crimson flower had blossomed in the north.

“We want to avoid any unnecessary engagements before then. Still, it wouldn’t be much fun if all we did was run. We’ll send a few units out again tonight to keep them on their toes, tire them out, lull them into a false sense of security. Then we’ll crush them in one fell swoop.”

Hiro’s voice carried a confidence that brooked no argument. Someone swallowed.

“As you command, my lord,” one of the advisors finally responded. “We will see it done.”

“I’m happy to field any questions you might have. If you’re uncomfortable asking them here, my tent is always open. You need hold nothing back.” He looked over their faces for a long moment, then drew a quiet breath and continued. “Nothing? Good. Then this meeting is adjourned.”

With that, the officers bowed in unison, straightened upright, and left the tent. In the absence of their body warmth, the air rapidly cooled. Hiro settled down in his chair, laid his elbows on the table, and settled his chin atop his clasped hands. He lowered his gaze to the map.

“They think they’ve already won. Let’s prove them wrong.”

A smile pulled at his lips as he touched his fingers to his eyepatch. He picked up several pawns and lined them up in a row. A plethora of schemes raced through his mind, and his left eye itched to try them all.

“After this will come Faerzen, and Draal, and Steissen, and then the nations farther west. Not all will oppose us, of course, but nevertheless...”

Once he had no more enemies left in Soleil, he would turn his attention across the sea, to the landmasses to the north and west—although it was more than likely that they would come to him.

“Ah, of course. And the eastern islands too.”

They were a harsh place where beastfolk dwelled and monsters prowled. The beastfolk were a warlike people, but certain circumstances prevented their expansion. As long as he left them alone, they were unlikely to openly move against him.

“They might be a rogue element. I don’t know how things have changed while I’ve been gone.”

Even so, he had many options to choose from, and his opportunities to test himself would only grow. He toppled the pawns one by one until only the last remained. He stared at it for a while.

“And then there’s the Grantzian Empire.”

A thousand years had seen the empire grow beyond anything Hiro could have imagined. With the power it now commanded, it was ruler of the continent; a force the other nations would have to band together to have any hope of opposing. Still, that didn’t mean there weren’t cracks in its foundation.

“The emperor isn’t weak, exactly, but the nobles are too strong.”

At some point, he would have to focus his attention inward or the domestic situation would deteriorate beyond saving. Preserving a balance between the five great houses would be essential.

“I could raise up a new faction of undeclared nobles and pit them against House Krone, but that might end up handing one house all the power for generations to come.”

New factions rose quickly, and their momentum made them dangerous. They would quickly swallow all who opposed them. One wrong hand on the rudder was all it would take for the empire to collapse. He had to proceed with caution if he wanted to avoid that, and shore up the eastern nobles’ power as he went.

“There is much to be done. I don’t have time to waste squabbling with rebels.” Hiro knocked over the final pawn and rose. His black garb swirled about him as he turned toward the tent flap. “First, I’ll put an end to this pointless war. I can’t let the past shackle me any longer.”

His footsteps resounded unusually loudly as he touched his fingers to his eyepatch and stepped outside, leaving the tent deserted but for the howling of the wind.

As the flap fell shut behind him, the shadows clinging to the corners of the empty tent churned and twisted, until they resolved into the shape of a man. The figure grinned eerily as it began to dance with wild abandon.

The darkness spread, unheard and unseen, like water seeping into wool.

＊

The twenty-sixth day of the tenth month of Imperial Year 1023

Dusk was falling when the southern army finally displayed a change in tactics.

“Oh?” Baal mused. “Hoping to blind us, are they?”

He sat in a roofless carriage in the center of the rebel formation. Before him, a torrent of snowflakes danced, thick enough to obscure the enemy lines.

“They do love their games. As though I would fall for such a childish trick.”

He pulled a map close and studied it, toying with a pair of pawns as he ruminated. Schnee Fortress was close. He had already dispatched scouts to inspect it, and they had reported that its defenses would not withstand a siege.

“Such a fragile gate will easily fall before the battering rams we’ve made.”

If the enemy did as he expected, the effort of crafting the rams would be well worthwhile. If his predictions were accurate, they would take advantage of the snowstorm to retreat at full speed, turning to attack if his forces tried to pursue. It would be possible to finish them off there and then, but he could not afford a messy skirmish with a mere three thousand—not with a battle against the second prince looming on the horizon.

“Lord Baal!” came a cry from a messenger. “The enemy is falling back at full speed!”

His smile grew wider. Next, they would doubtless flee to Schnee Fortress and hole up like a tortoise in its shell.

“And if we’re too eager to chase them, their vanished detachment will fall on us from behind.”

One thousand men had split off from the southern army shortly after the two sides had made contact on the previous day. Most likely, they were lying low somewhere behind Baal’s forces, ready to strike once he attacked Schnee Fortress. That, he could not allow to happen.

“I could dispatch a force to intercept them...” he mused.

But if the enemy saw through his plans, that force would inevitably end up caught between two sides. That would buy no time and lose men for nothing.

“Then I’ll crush their plots before they can come to fruition. I have no intention of playing along with their games. I will finish this by tonight.” He beckoned the messenger closer. “Tell every officer in the army that once we have encircled Schnee Fortress, they are to be wary of the rear.”

“At once, my lord!” The man departed.

As Baal stared after the retreating army, his mind began to turn.

Now a night raid is their only hope.

They were clearly laying the foundations, staging dummy attacks night after night to induce overconfidence. The vigilance of the soldiers on the ground would be dwindling. If a night raid struck the army now, the effect would be devastating.

And their ploy might have succeeded if I hadn’t seen through it. As it is, they will find us ready and waiting.

The commander had spun his web cleverly, laying plans to account for every eventuality. His strategy was textbook—perfectly polished, and perfectly predictable.

Hardly a challenge, for a scion of Mars. His ancestor overshadows him yet.

After foiling the night raid and lowering the enemy’s morale, Baal would strike them where they cowered in the fortress. The final battle would take place that very night.

His mind set, he went to Flaus’s carriage to report his decision.

Flaus seemed to sense Baal’s approach. “So, our foe has fled into Schnee Fortress,” he said. “All has transpired as you foresaw.”

“Indeed it has. In the end, this vaunted scion of the War God is as fallible as any other man.”

“We can only hope that you are right. So? When should I show myself? I imagine my absence is beginning to affect morale.”

The prince was right. Between Baal’s refusal to fight despite vastly superior numbers and the disruptive effects of the enemy’s feigned night raids, the soldiers’ spirits were beginning to flag.

“Morale will recover naturally, in time. Fear not, Your Highness. The moment to reveal yourself will come soon enough.”

After annihilating the attempted night raid and chasing the main force back into Schnee Fortress, the enemy would be Baal’s to dispatch. When the time came, he would pit Flaus against their most fearsome fighter: the man in black. That would be the test. If his experiment proved a failure, he would abandon Lebering and return to his homeland. If the prince was fortunate enough to survive, he would continue his plans, and his compatriots would have no choice but to lend more credence to his ideas.

“The zlosta will rule Soleil once more.” Baal’s voice was low and tinged with amusement. “That much I promise.”

Flaus chuckled. “Indeed. We shall build a nation grand enough to rival the Grantzian Empire!”

Laughing silently at the prince behind closed lips, Baal left the carriage behind. With the cold wind blowing over him, he stopped and cast a glance back over his shoulder.

The zlosta will rule Soleil once more—but you shall have no place among us.

Lebering was the land of the zlosta in name alone. Pureblood zlosta existed there no longer. The blood of some ran thicker than others’, but all were tainted by intermingling with other peoples.

There are no mongrels among the zlosta. You will be our slaves, just as the humans once were.

Humans had ruled Soleil for a thousand years, yet that weakest of races had only their own numbers to show for their prolonged infestation. They had accomplished nothing of worth. They were a poison to this world, and their age was one of darkness.

Yes...a dark age. That’s what they’ve built.

The corners of Baal’s mouth twisted with distaste as he resumed walking.

＊

Schnee Fortress was one of several forts that had been constructed in times long past to expand Lebering’s power in the south. When the region had finally fallen, however, it had ceased to serve a useful purpose. Nowadays, it was nothing more than a shell of its former self.

Moving around soldiers hurrying past in all directions, Hiro made his way to the war room that had been set up in the center of the complex.

This is a fortress in name only. It won’t last a day.

Schnee Fortress had only seen one recorded battle, when a disaffected local noble had raised an army against the king of the time. That had been two hundred years ago. Ever since, it had been left to molder, its visibly rotten structures periodically repaired but otherwise left unprepared for an external assault.

Hiro entered the war room and took stock of the faces within. They immediately rose and bowed. He bowed back, gestured for them to take their seats, and took his own place at the head of the table.

“You may begin,” he commanded.

A nervous-looking officer stood up, holding a sheaf of documents. “As we expected, the rebels have surrounded the fortress. Furthermore, Princess Claudia has sent word from behind their lines. She is in position to commence her attack and awaits our signal.”

Of their three thousand troops, Hiro had sent one thousand behind the enemy in order to facilitate an all-out attack on their central camp. No army could survive without its chain of command, even one of this size; cut off the head and the rest would scatter. He had also stolen around three hundred rebel uniforms during the rout of their first cohort, which he would use as disguises to trick them into falling on each other. He had left nothing to chance. Everything was going according to plan.

With a satisfied nod, he instructed one of the officers to lay a map on the table. Pawns went down to indicate the positions of Claudia’s detachment, the rebel command, and the second prince’s forces.

“She also writes that the Fifth Legion shows no sign of moving,” the officer continued. “It seems they are waiting to see how the battle unfolds. Oh, and it appears that Lord Muninn has joined her, none the worse for wear.”

“Good. It sounds like everything is in order.” Hiro smiled, then stood up as the officer took his seat. “We will proceed as planned, then. In half an hour’s time, we will give her the signal.”

“Her Highness also writes that the enemy appears to have made preparations for a night raid and she doubts the effectiveness of an attack. Would it not be better to first send spies into their midst?”

“No need. We have plenty there already. Besides, it doesn’t matter whether the enemy sees the night raid coming or not. It will work.”

With a fearless smile, Hiro toppled the enemy commander. A clack echoed through the room—a small sound, yet loud in the silence.

＊

Heavy clouds shrouded the night sky, obscuring the light of the stars and blanketing the world in darkness. The eye could not have picked out a rock on the ground unaided. In the rebel camp, however, there was no such concern; to the army’s rear, a sea of bonfires illuminated the night. Ranks of soldiers stood near the pyres, their eyes glinting eerily in the firelight as they scanned the darkness in anticipation of an enemy assault.

“Not long now, I’d wager,” Baal murmured as he gazed over the scene from his watchtower.

“What makes you think they’ll come at all?” asked Flaus, beside him. “I’ll wager our defenses will scare them off.”

“You fret too much, Your Highness. They will come. See for yourself.”

Baal raised a finger. Flaus’s piercing blue eyes squinted in the direction he indicated. Below, a group of soldiers were conversing merrily.

“To look at them, one would not think we were at war at all,” Flaus said with audible disapproval. “And they are not the only ones. Our army’s vigilance appears to be lacking.”

Baal only smiled. “Such is the enemy’s plan: feigning raid after raid in order to exhaust our men, make them incautious, and lull them into complacency. And tonight, they mean to reap their harvest.”

Night after night, the enemy had threatened an attack, keeping the men awake and on edge, but had never followed through. In time, they had convinced Baal’s soldiers that a raid was never coming. They had also laid other traps—too minor to be worthy of notice, but Baal counted at least eight—which, in sum, had certainly succeeded in lowering rebel morale. Next and last would be their final ploy, and it would start with yet another feigned night raid.

“First, they will make a great deal of noise to our fore,” Baal predicted.

“Oh?” Flaus’s eyebrows rose. “Whatever do you mean?”

At that moment, the thunder of horseshoes sounded from the direction of the fortress. Panicked cries of “We’re under attack!” rose from below. Baal, however, did not seem rushed. His mouth curled quietly into a smirk as he directed his prearranged messengers to their respective destinations.

“It is only a bluff, my lord. An all-too-obvious ruse that we need not entertain.”

“So this racket is meaningless?”

“Well, not entirely. It does play a part in the enemy’s designs.”

The noise would double as a signal for their next move: a false attack on the rebel army’s rear. The feigned charge would most likely comprise captured criminals—those who, sooner or later, would be put to death under the laws of Lebering.

“We have lost contact with several of our reconnaissance patrols,” Baal explained. “I expect they have been captured.”

In light of their crimes, the men could expect no sympathy. The enemy would not hesitate to use them as bait.

“Riders to our rear!” a cry went up.

“And there you have it,” Baal said.

“Impressive. You truly have read their every move.”

In the light of the bonfires, picking the enemy out from the darkness was a simple matter.

“Loose arrows!” Baal commanded. “Don’t be deceived by their tricks! Use your wits, shoot straight, and we shall easily prevail!”

Bows twanged. Arrow after arrow struck home. A few horses escaped the rain of projectiles only to crash fruitlessly into the anti-cavalry palisades. As soon as the fighting was over, Baal sent out a unit to investigate the identity of the riders. While waiting for their return, he and Flaus descended from the watchtower.

“Next, they will attack in force from the front,” he said.

“So their feint is in truth a double feint? Their true attack was always from the fore?”

Baal’s grin grew even more conceited. “Indeed. They will come in waves. It would be truly foolish to attack from the rear, where our defenses are strongest. Even a rank amateur would not make such a mistake.”

“So in the end, their strategy was one that even a child could understand. Why all this subterfuge, then?”

“I imagine they hoped to split our forces. But when one can read them as easily as I can, it is a trifling matter to counteract their schemes.”

As the pair mounted their horses, a messenger approached.

“We have inspected the men who attacked the rear, my lord,” the man announced. “We found their limbs bound and their shoulders marked with prisoners’ brands. It seems they were fixed to their horses.”

Baal snorted. “Predictable to the last. Now, blow the horns, just as I told you! We will meet the enemy to the fore and crush them!”

The messenger departed. A short while later, horn blasts took up from all directions. At the same time, the battle cries from the front began to swell, suggesting that the fight had begun in earnest. Satisfied that the enemy’s focus was indeed there, Baal gave his final order.

“Put them all to the sword. Cut the head of every last human from his body—”

He did not finish his command. Blooming light cast the visible portions of his face into sharp relief as several tongues of flame erupted across the camp. Frantic cries of “To arms! To arms!” went up from all around.

An advisor rode up, wide-eyed and frantic. “My lord! The rams are burning!”

Baal raised his voice to calm the panicking soldiers. “Do not falter! This is but another ploy to split our forces! We have no need for siege weaponry! Leave the fires to burn and hasten to the front! Focus their attention there!”

The enemy had laid their plans well. They were pulling out every trick in the book to confound Baal’s men and keep them separated. Their agents had likely slipped in during the chaos of their first feigned night raid and lain low in the camp ever since. Impressive work, all told. Still, they had only prolonged the inevitable. This battle had been decided from the first, and it lay within Baal’s grasp.

“If only they had been content to play their tricks from behind the safety of their walls, they might have lived a little longer.” He scowled in exasperation at his enemy’s incompetence.

Flaus’s expression soured. “Then I shall have no part to play after all. How long must I wait to test my newfound powers?”

“Many battles yet lie ahead of us, Your Highness.” Baal shrugged. “You will not want for chances, of that I assure you.”

He spurred his horse into a trot. By the time he joined the back of the front line, the fighting had turned bloody. The foe had shifted their efforts to the center in a desperate attempt to break through, but the night raid defenses were standing strong, and the rebels vastly outnumbered their enemies; the soldiers were having little difficulty pushing back. Orders passed quickly along the chain of command, and all units moved in cohesion to maintain the advantage as they charged into the fray. The southern army was falling back. It would not be long before they broke and fled to Schnee Fortress.

“I had hoped to play out my plans to perfection,” Baal said to himself, “but this will suffice. I will crush them here and now, and be done with them.”

Soon the enemy lines would collapse, and the task of mopping up the fleeing soldiers would be all that would remain.

“Send word to every last man,” he instructed the advisors waiting at his side. “Annihilate the foe!”

Drums rumbled and horns sounded, carrying the order throughout the army.

At Baal’s side, Flaus gazed with satisfaction at the battlefield, from which the stench of death was already rising. “And so it ends,” he observed. “This scion of Mars was of little note after all.”

“Humans are short-lived creatures, Your Highness. I expect his ancestor’s blood must have been thinned to nothing.”

“Well, who he was in life hardly matters. His death will serve equally well to announce the return of the zlosta.”

“Quite so—”

No sooner had Baal opened his mouth than his body pitched forward. Caught off guard, he crashed to the ground. As he staggered to his feet, disoriented, screams erupted from all sides.

“What is the meaning of this?!” he roared.

A wave of dizziness came over him and he sank to one knee. Only then did he notice the arrowhead protruding from his stomach.

“Where did this...?”

Blood trickled down the shaft, dripping from the metal tip to seep into the earth. Baal’s face twisted, in confusion more than in pain.

Flaus dashed up, his mouth agape. “Lord van Bittenia!” he cried. “Are you all right?!”

“A scratch, Your Highness, nothing more. We must determine what is happe— No, never mind. I see there is no need.”

Flaus looked around to see the ground littered with soldiers, all with arrows protruding from their bodies. Some were not moving.

Baal gritted his teeth and got to his feet before reaching behind his back and yanking the arrow out. Slowly, he turned around. Laughter burst from his chest at the sight that awaited him. “I see! The attack was from the rear all along!”

A wall of cavalry bore down on them like an avalanche, its tumultuous force far too great for the depleted rear guard to halt. The charge earlier, while false, had nonetheless succeeded in breaking much of the palisade. Now, the enemy surged through those gaps and into the camp. The bonfires fell into their hands and tents began to burn. Fleeing soldiers died beneath a rain of crushing hooves.

“So they chose foolishness over wisdom. The gall of it...”

“Lord Baal! They’re not just coming from the rear— Urgh!”

A messenger dashed toward Baal, his face drawn, but a rider’s lance took him in the back before he could finish. His body bounced across the ground and vanished from sight. Screams and roars rose from both sides, accompanied by the harsh timbre of a steel symphony.

“They thought well to sweep in from the sides. The dark will conceal their numbers. Even a small host will be able to cause chaos.”

Now that the fortress was surrounded, the rebel soldiers would be feverishly focused on the fore. An attack from another angle would naturally catch them unawares. Baal watched as though in a dream as the battle turned to slaughter. All the while, the enemy riders bore down on him.

“Hmph. You underestimate me.”

He raised Failnaught and launched three arrows in quick succession. Each found its mark in a soldier’s throat. As the men fell, Baal turned to grasp a stunned Flaus by the shoulder.

“The time to reveal yourself has come sooner than expected,” he said.

“Reveal myself? Now?!”

“You may not turn the tide of battle, but you will secure our retreat.” Baal shot arrows into the press even as he spoke, steadily picking off foes. “We must fall back. Overcommitting here will impede our future plans.”

If they regrouped now, they could still salvage perhaps ten thousand men.

“In any case,” Baal continued, “the enemy’s success does not mean they will survive the night unscathed. They will lose many men in this battle. We will have ample opportunity to settle the score.”

The Asura’s detached tone sent Flaus into a red-faced rage. “You snake! You promised me victory!”

“Calm yourself, Your Highness. First we must quit this field.”

Flaus wheeled around to vent his spleen by striking down an enemy soldier. Then, although the words seemed to stick in his craw, he roared for all to hear, “Retreat! Retreat!”

“That’s the way,” Baal said.

Remaining here would do nothing to check the enemy’s momentum now. This defeat stung, but his overall plan was still proceeding apace.

“I am far from out of schemes. We may have lost this battle, but the war will be ours yet.”

To never know defeat was a useless ideal. Some engagements might go against him, some of his plans might be seen through by the enemy, but the only battle that truly mattered was the last. As long as he won that, history would call him the victor.

“We must return to the royal city and regroup,” he declared, turning his horse about to flee the battlefield.

At that moment, an eerie noise rang through the air—a quiet sound, oh so quiet, too low to ordinarily be audible above the battlefield clamor. Its touch lingered unpleasantly on the eardrums.

“Countless fields of carnage have I crossed. Countless fallen corpses have I trodden underfoot. Countless frail hopes have I cast aside.”

A figure approached almost soundlessly, like the looming maw of purest darkness.

“How dare you speak of wisdom when you have never known despair.”

The voice bore no inflection, but it carried a deep and terrible weight. Baal and Flaus instinctively raised their weapons as they spun around to face it. There stood a boy with an eyepatch covering half of his face. Lifeless bodies lay strewn around him.

“If you think I’ll let you run, think again. You are prey for me to devour and grow stronger from. I won’t risk you coming back to haunt me.” The boy’s kind features hardened as he raised his gleaming sword. “Now, let me show you what despair truly is.”

The darkness billowing around him took on a deeper shade, and the air itself began to warp as it flooded with cold rage.

＊

“You will teach us of despair? Words taken straight from your ancestor’s mouth. You are just as arrogant as he was, and just as grating for it.” Baal’s lips twisted with ire, then gradually curled in joy. “Still, I will admit, your scheme was impressive. I shall take it for my own. It will serve me well in the battles to come.”

The Asura’s smug tone was an unmistakable taunt, but Hiro only snorted. “Then take some advice too,” he said, laying Excalibur’s blade across his shoulders as he turned his empty gaze on Baal. “There is no ingenuity in wisdom or practicality in convention, but both can be found in plans you might dismiss as foolish.”

Commanders cared only for wise plans and disregarded foolish ones. Precisely for that reason, the latter could present unique opportunities. It was a simple thing, in the end. To confound one’s opponent in order to open them up for a lethal blow was a time-honored path to victory.

“How comfortable you must have felt, watching everything unfold as you predicted. So comfortable, you missed all the signs of your defeat.”

“Do you mean to say that I was playing into your hands all along?”

“Not mine. Not this time. I was just another pawn in this game.” With a shake of his head, Hiro lifted his sword and leveled it at Baal. “But enough talk. I think it’s time to finish this.”

He raised his blade and drew a breath. There was a beat of silence—and then he vanished.

All at once, there was an arrow in Baal’s hand. The Asura unleashed a volley, quick and wild. Sparks scattered with every shot, filling the air with the ringing of metal.

“Oh?” Hiro’s eyebrows rose. “You can see me?”

“I can sense you.”

Baal punctuated his answer with another arrow. The sparks between the two combatants grew closer and closer, until—

“Forgotten me, have you?!”

Flaus sprang forward to stand in Hiro’s way. Metal rang as blade clashed with blade. Excalibur skittered away.

Hiro looked down at his numbing fingers, then back up at Flaus. “You weren’t that strong last time,” he said. “You’ve fallen, haven’t you?”

If the fact had not been obvious from the prince’s regenerated arm, it would have been clear from his uncanny might. His zlosta blood could account for neither.

Flaus grinned widely. “Please. I am no mere fiend. This is the power of the Origin, the power of our lord. That which lies beyond the reach of you feeble humans—the birthright of the zlosta!”

“I see.”

“I hear much of your strength in battle, but you will never surpass us. It is not in your blood.”

Flaus was babbling something or other, buoyed up by his own newfound power, but Hiro wasn’t listening. He was gazing up at the sky, his eyes fixed on something far away.

“I would stop talking if I were you. Say your lord’s name and I won’t be able to hold back.”

With a tilt of his head, he cracked his knuckles. The abyss swirled in the depths of his eyes as they held Flaus in their gaze. Excalibur’s brilliance guttered mournfully, while the Black Camellia swelled on a battle wind. White and black light did battle around him, devouring one another to create an unearthly sight.

At last, Flaus noticed the change that had come over his enemy. “Who are you?”

“Even now, when I think back to those days, my chest feels like it could burst with anger. I was pathetic, squeamish, far too naive. A hopeless fool.”

Hiro spoke to nobody but himself. His words were a reprimand for his ears alone.

“Naivety must be shed. Snuffed out before it can cause tragedy.”

Space began to distort around him. Spirit weapons emerged from rents in the air.

“War is a world of absolutes. Kill or be killed. Strength or weakness. Victory or defeat. Black or white.”

And so, the king declares from atop his lonely pinnacle...

“As such, I choose to never know defeat. Until I build the world she wished for.”

Such was the duty left to him. The crowning glory that he had fallen short of one thousand years ago. Flaus shrank back in the face of Hiro’s overwhelming might.

“There is nothing to fear. You will only return to dust.”

As Hiro stepped forward, there was a violent noise like reality itself tearing—and thence came Liegegrazalt. With a surge of vast power, blinding speed turned to explosive force, gouging a furrow into the earth. A torrent of light turned darkness to day. The spirit weapons hanging in the night sky fell like shooting stars, bathing the world in brilliance. The eye could not hope to follow. Unleashed at the speed of light, his unstoppable swordsmanship carried immense destructive force.

“Gah!”

Only when pain blasted through his thorax and his spine snapped back like a bow did Flaus register that a blade had run him through from behind. Before the realization even hatched in his brain, the next sword struck home, rending flesh and splitting bone as it sank deep into his bowels. Hiro’s blinding speed admitted neither defense nor reprieve. This was the power of the Heavenly Sovereign’s Graal, Godspeed—or Lucifer.

Yet Flaus, too, was no mere mortal. Even as innumerable slashes scored his flesh, he struck back relentlessly against his assailant. His body overflowed with a vitality that would have astounded an ordinary man, and his regenerative powers surpassed even those of a fiend. His strength was no less extraordinary; the slightest graze of his wild swings could crack a skull like an egg.

Even so, Hiro evaded all of his attacks with ease.

“Monster! Are you truly human?!” Flaus’s eyes widened. His voice took on a note of surprise. “Curse you... Gah!”

As living beings cannot defy the natural order, so Flaus was helpless before Hiro’s easy mastery. His arm flew from his shoulder, less severed by a blade and more torn free by a bullet.

“This cannot be!” he roared. “I am zlosta! Our lord’s chosen!”

“And you’re slowing down. Time to finish thi— Ngh?!”

A volley of arrows arced toward Hiro as he landed. A short distance away, Baal lowered his bow.

“I can sense you plain as day, boy! I’ll see you dead yet!”

Alas, he was only chasing his foe’s shadow.

“You can keep out of this. Get down and stay down.”

Hiro appeared in front of Baal and rammed a spirit weapon through his flesh. A second followed, a third, a fifth. The Asura didn’t even have a chance to cry out. Hiro ran his limbs through and kicked him to the ground before at last turning his attention back to Flaus.

“The crown must be mine!” the prince croaked. “I will not fall here! I cannot!”

His own hot blood melted the snow into slush. He thrashed weakly in the middle of a crimson mire, struggling to rise despite his injuries.

Hiro approached softly. He patted the breast of his overcoat and smiled. “Your determination has impressed the Black Camellia. She says she wants to eat you.”

Flaus blanched. “What?”

“Don’t be afraid. You’d be surprised how comforting the dark can be.”

The flood of light was fast fading. Darkness consumed it down to its faintest traces. Flaus’s face contorted in despair. A scream tore from his throat.

“Feast,” Hiro commanded, and color fled the world.

The abyss crushed all light in its jaws. All hue and shade vanished into its wicked maw, yet still it was not sated—not until it sank its teeth into the shrieking Flaus.

In an instant, it was done, and Hiro stood alone on a blood-soaked snowfield.

“Phew...”

As he let out a sigh, he opened his ears to the world around him. The clashing of steel gradually soothed the pounding in his chest. Cold rationality reasserted itself over burning anger. As he swept his gaze across the battlefield, he spied Baal crawling away on his belly. At a leisurely pace, he moved to block the Asura’s path.

“I have a question for you,” he said. “How did you grant Flaus that power?”

“As if I would tell you, of all men,” Baal growled. With a smirk, he tore away his hood.

The breath caught in Hiro’s throat at the sight. Baal’s face was horrifically scarred, as though he had been tortured. His eyes had been gouged out, leaving two yawning pits, and a hole in his forehead marked where a manastone had been cut free from his skull. Most shocking of all, however, was that his face was familiar. Once, he had been one of the zlosta ancestors—the old kings of the zlosta whom Hiro had slain.

“Surprised, boy? I lost my eyes to the War God long ago. It took a long while to learn to survive without them, believe you me. Yet even stripped of my mana, even cast down into the muck, I clung to life. And I dreamed of the day when vengeance would be mine.”

Hiro could tell that he spoke the truth: his mana was barely a shadow of its former glory. His body, too, was emaciated and dreadfully frail.

“One thousand years ago, the War God took my land from me. And now my ambitions are thwarted once more by his descendant’s hand.” Despite the spirit weapons skewering Baal’s limbs, he shakily rose, the fiendbow Failnaught tight in his grip. “Come, then! Let us finish this! My thousand years of hatred will go unspoken no longer!”

He loosed an arrow with astounding speed, but in spite of his proximity, Hiro batted it aside with one hand.

“You’re living for nothing more than a past grudge. Pathetic.” He grasped the still-struggling Baal by the chest and pulled him close. “But if that is part of my legacy, then I will accept it.”

Excalibur ran Baal through as he fell forward. The Asura cried out in pain, but his fingers sank deeper into Hiro’s shoulder even as blood burst from his mouth.

“Do not...believe...that this is over! My schemes...have only just begun!”

“Then I will devour them all and grow stronger still.”

Hiro thrust Baal away. A silver streak scored the air as he twisted, bringing Excalibur across in a horizontal slash.

“Death will not stop m—”

Baal’s head flew, trailing a ribbon of blood. It landed in the heart of the bloody quagmire and sank out of sight.

“It’s over, I see,” a soft voice said.

Hiro turned to see Claudia standing nearby. She walked closer and picked up the dropped Failnaught.

“Now all three Relics have returned to the crown.”

She plucked out the fiendbow’s manastone and slipped it into one of the divots on Hauteclaire’s hilt. With three manastones and Lox’s Dellingr, the fiendblade was finally complete. She gazed at it for a moment, enraptured, before her eyes slid to Hiro.

“On behalf of the royal family of Lebering, I thank you. This would not have been possible without you.”

Hiro shrugged, but otherwise said nothing.

“Now,” Claudia said, “let us end this senseless war.”

She raised Hauteclaire high, then drove it down into the ground. Mana surged into the earth. Fissures spread out around her like spiderwebs.

“The traitors who slew His Majesty are dead!” she declared.

Her cool voice cut clear and true through the night. Snowflakes danced around her on the wind, lending her an ethereal air, and the flames of the burning encampment cast her beauty in flickering amber. The battle ceased as all turned to look at her.

“Sheathe your swords! There is nothing to be gained from further bloodshed!”

She withdrew Hauteclaire from the ground and leveled it at a group of soldiers who were still fighting. The gesture brought them to a standstill. For a moment, there was silence, and then shocked whispers rose from all around. The men were quite literally frozen solid. They adorned the snowfields like ice sculptures, reflected firelight dancing on their translucent skin.

“If you would continue this battle, then it is me you must face!”

Dawn broke, illuminating Claudia with searing light. The soldiers cast aside their arms and fell to their knees. In some time long past, the rulers of this land had possessed an unassailable dignity. Now, that quality was born again in her.

Hiro watched her thoughtfully for a while, squinting against the light, then he turned and walked away.

“Your Lordship!”

“Chief!”

Huginn and Muninn raced up through the burning camp.

Hiro spread his arms wide in welcome, overjoyed to see them safe. “I’m glad you’re all right. You’re not hurt, are you?”

“Not a chance!” Huginn exclaimed. “Her Ladyship saw to that! What about you?”

“Aye,” Muninn followed. “We might not look it, but we know when to make ourselves scarce.”

“You did well, Muninn,” Hiro said. “It’s thanks to you that they came after us at all.”

If not for Muninn’s actions, Baal might have been too wary of the Fifth Legion to pursue Hiro’s forces.

“Think nothin’ of it, chief. All I did was drop one measly scroll and scarper.”

Huginn shot her brother a jealous glare as he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“You did well too, Huginn,” Hiro said. “It was dangerous work I gave you, but you pulled it off.”

Huginn had been one of the spies whom Hiro had sent to infiltrate the enemy camp and coordinate with Claudia’s assault. She had played the vital role of torching the siege weapons, as well as raising cries of alarm to incite the enemy to turn on each other.

“We would have lost this battle if not for the two of you.”

He would have to find some way to reward them once they returned to the capital. Garda would be delighted.

There was a moment of silence. The siblings seemed dumbfounded to see him smiling so kindly.

“We should get going,” he said. “We have no more business here.”

“At once!” they chorused.

Hiro smiled a little bashfully, relieved to see the tension broken, and looked up at the sky.

I don’t know what kind of queen Claudia will make, but one thing is certain: Lebering has entered a new era.

Cloudless blue stretched away above him, so clear that the previous days’ blizzard seemed like a distant dream.

I only hope she builds a nation you would be proud of, Lox.

As his old comrades passed through his mind, his lips pulled into a quiet smile.