Shinwa Densetsu no Eiyuu no Isekaitan - Volume 7 - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Beyond Despair

Hiro awoke to searing brilliance. The world was filled with light. The glare was so uniform that he couldn’t tell whether he was facing up or down, his sense of balance so faint that he couldn’t be sure whether he was looking left or right. Only one thing was certain.

I’m back again.

Hiro had been to this place once before. Indeed, his first visit had been one that he would never forget. His return was certainly a surprise, but with that memory lingering in the back of his mind, he felt less alarmed than he expected. Warmth enfolded him, comforting and familiar, as though he had fallen into slumber.

A sense of weightlessness permeated his bleary awareness for a short while, and then it ceased. As his senses came back into focus, he realized that he was lying face-down.

“From the outset, answers are hard to come by. To be expected, perhaps.”

A voice drifted down from above, one that he had heard before. He planted his left hand on the ground and levered himself upright, seeking to overlay the source of the voice with the images that it stirred. His head felt heavy. An ornate throne came into view as his gaze moved up, followed by the dignified young man seated upon it. He looked every bit as Hiro remembered.

A gust blew through the featureless space. Its gentle caress set Hiro’s heart at ease. Something flat pressed softly against his back. He looked down to find that he was seated on a jet-black throne.

“So astounding is your audacity, I can hardly even bring myself to feel anger.”

The voice drew Hiro’s attention back up. “Artheus...”

“You haven’t changed a jot, Held. Rey would weep to see it.”

“I don’t regret what I did. It was the best way.”

“Yet again, you argue back as though you knew best.” Artheus sighed, pressing a hand to his forehead as if suppressing a headache. “That always was a failing of yours, Held. You insist on doing things your way, never questioning its wisdom, and so throw yourself into peril.”

“And it’s saved more lives than I can count.”

“So you may believe, but has it truly?”

Hiro blinked, taken aback.

“You may have saved some commonfolk from bandits,” Artheus continued, “but did you stay to make certain that their stories ended happily? What of those you freed from noble tyranny? Or those you rescued from monsters? Did you see them all the way to safety?”

Hiro had no reply. His throat grew dry as an invisible pressure seemed to tighten around his neck. Artheus was right. He had never truly seen anything through. Not Artheus’s road, not the dream he’d dreamed; Hiro had fled into obscurity before seeing either to fruition.

“I recognize the irony in my saying this, Held, but you are irresponsible. You draw a line where it benefits you most and declare a matter concluded. That is selfishness, nothing more.”

“That’s not—”

True, he wanted to say, but a wave of Artheus’s hand stopped the word dead in his throat. “You trust no one, you confide in no one, you open your heart to none, and yet you flatter yourself that you will risk your life to save others. What am I to call that but arrogance?”

“I’m not the same person I was a thousand years ago. Arrogance has nothing to do with it. This time, I have the strength I need.”

“Is that why you lost a limb?” Derision flared in Artheus’s golden eyes as his gaze fell on Hiro’s right arm.

Hiro lowered his eyes, biting his lip in shame. “The empire was on the brink of disaster. I had to do something or it would have fallen apart.”

There were so many other things he wanted to say, but the words failed him, leaving him with nothing but a sheepish retort. It fell flat even to his ears, ringing vainly in the empty air.

Artheus’s dismissive snort scattered what remained. “If a nation is so weak that one man’s efforts can determine its fate, perhaps it deserves to fall.”

The remark fell easily from the other man’s lips, but Hiro’s eyes widened at his presumptuousness. “What? After how hard we fought to build it? After everyone we lost?!”

“What of it?” Artheus let Hiro’s outrage wash over him coolly. He struck his fingers hard against the arm of his throne with a savage smile. “I have no need of such a nation. If my empire must stand on the back of my brother’s corpse, let it crumble.”

“You can’t just decide that!”

“Of course I can.” Artheus recrossed his legs, clasped his hands on top of his knees, and flashed a full-faced grin. “I’m the first emperor.”

He spoke without shame, smiling as innocently as a child. There, again, was that same confidence that he had always possessed in abundance. Hiro found himself at a loss for how to respond. He felt like he was looking directly into the sun, and he lowered his gaze to escape the glare.

“How self-centered can you be?”

“As much as I please. Emperors must be thus.”

Prideful as a lion and haughty as a tiger, Artheus had been born to wear a crown. The arrogance he projected was rooted in an unshakable conviction.

“Ever do you insist on making things more complex than they are. On denying your own heart in service of others. I always disliked that about you...” Artheus broke off and pressed a fist into Hiro’s chest. “Enough to want to strike you.” He let one eye fall closed mischievously and settled back into his chair. “Sadly, that is not my place. Not this time.”

A shadow of loneliness fell over his face. The past and the present had drifted apart, and never again would the twain meet. Artheus’s role in history had ended a thousand years ago. For better or for worse, his age had long met its end.

“There is truly nothing so vexing as to be forced to watch my brother suffer. Would that I were there, Held. Perhaps I could not save you, but I would never have allowed you to end up in such a sorry state.”

As pointless as it was to ponder might-have-beens, Hiro had to admit that Artheus was right. If he were still alive and in his prime, most of the problems facing the Grantzian Empire would disappear. He would sweep them aside with one swing of his mighty arm.

“But that can never be, so there is no more to be said.” Artheus’s regrets seemed to fall from his shoulders as he settled back with a carefree grin. He produced a piece of black card from his breast pocket. Hiro remembered it well—it was the same spirit seal that Artheus had given him before his return to Earth. Over time, it had gradually blackened, the stain spreading progressively faster in response to some unknown stimulus. At some point it had vanished from Hiro’s possession, and yet here it was again, in one piece.

“The final condition has been satisfied. Self-sacrifice always was your way, Held. You are so predictable, I cannot even bring myself to laugh.” There was an edge of exasperation to Artheus’s voice, but it vanished as his face turned grave. “Truly, you push yourself too far.”

Hiro smiled awkwardly, sensing that he was being chided.

“Ever do you seek out the thorniest road,” Artheus continued. “And with every step, you heap more curses upon yourself, as though you felt you deserved the punishment. Tell me, does it not pain you?”

“It does,” Hiro said hesitantly. The oversized title of the Hero King of Twinned Black; the name of Mars, written in the blood of his allies; both weighed heavy enough to crush him. “But I can’t complain.”

“Why not? Do you fear letting others down?”

“That’s not it. I’m not scared of that anymore. I just don’t want to be left with regrets.” Hiro looked down at the trembling fingers of his left hand. “What happened one thousand years ago... I can’t let it repeat itself.”

Did Artheus understand the terror of feeling the warmth fade from those he loved as they hovered on the boundary between life and death? Did he know the fear of hearing their breath grow ever more shallow? Of instant, irreversible loss, of the dawning realization that only a hollow husk remained—Hiro did not think he could bear that despair again.

“I’m tired of it all. Of losing people I care about. Of failing to protect them.”

“My sister would not want this, Held.” Arthur’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “Rey would not want this. She would disavow what you have become.”

Silence fell between them. The uncomfortable pause stretched on as they both found themselves at a loss for things to say.

In the end, it was Artheus who spoke. “But you are longer beholden to such things. Walk the path you choose, Held. It is long past time that you lived as your heart desired, bound by no one. You have served the name of von Grantz for long enough.”

Hiro gave no answer. He remained silent, his eyes cast down.

Artheus sighed, toying with the black card as he continued. “It was just before you returned to your Earth, was it not?”

Hiro jolted. He looked up in surprise.

“Did you think me so oblivious?”

“No, it’s just...I never told anyone.”

Artheus snorted. “Please. Do you think your own brother would fail to notice?” Behind his mock exasperation, his eyes were full of affection; the words were no accusation. “I admit, I was surprised when I learned that you had challenged the Demiurgos. Then again, attempting to take everything upon your own shoulders is very much like you.”

But his attempt had ended in failure, the consequence of succumbing to maddening rage. Resolving never to be ruled by emotion or fear dirtying his hands, he had risen, fought, and reached out to claim the heavens, only to fail to grasp anything at all. For his failure, he now bore a curse. He clasped and unclasped his fingers bitterly.

Artheus smiled ruefully. “I told you once that I cast many possibilities at your feet.” Three books appeared from featureless space. Hiro recognized them all: the White Chronicle, the Black Chronicle, and the Memoirs of the First Emperor. Artheus took the latter in hand. “When I knew my time was nigh, I began to ask myself what I could leave behind to aid my dear brother.”

Hiro had suspected Artheus’s goal, if only vaguely. Ever since returning to Aletia, he had spent every spare moment cooped up in Berg Fortress’s study, researching all manner of topics in the hope of learning more. The more he read, the more he learned how his actions had affected the world, and with it, the full extent of his irresponsibility. Liz now bore his cursed legacy, which had burdened her with a tragic fate. He had never managed to uncover the true nature of Artheus’s designs in the end, but along the way, he had stumbled across a deep truth of the world.

“What is it you want, Artheus?”

“I have only ever wished for one thing, Held. Only one.” With an impish smile, Artheus picked up the Black Chronicle. “And to that end, I granted you the rank the people always desired. I took the liberty of assuming your likeness and ascending the throne as the second emperor.”

That, too, Hiro had surmised. Artheus had always possessed a mischievous streak; no doubt the deception had amused him to no end. Still, his actions defied reason. Who could conceive of the ruler of a grand empire going to such lengths to distort their own nation’s history?

“Why go so far?” Hiro’s gaze hardened with accusation.

Artheus’s face took on a lonely cast. “I am your brother, and you are mine—the only remnants of each other’s families to emerge from the horrors of the great war. Our bond may not be one of blood, but it is firm even so.”

Beneath his cheerful veneer lay a deep solitude, to the point that he seemed on the verge of tears. This was an expression he would show only to family, and the love therein was eternal and unchanging.

“Even the emperor who challenged the world is but a mortal man. Is it so wrong to wish for my brother’s happiness?”

Within those words lay Artheus’s every dream, his most earnest desire.

“Never falter, Held, even if your hand falls short of what you seek. Walk the path you choose. Chase your most distant ideals. I have left you all I can.” Artheus held the black card over his right eye and grinned. “Now you need only...” He broke off, shaking his head, and smiled warmly. “No, I will not overstep my bounds. But allow me to give you one final piece of advice.”

His tone dropped a notch. Hiro had heard those words many times, always accompanied by the same austere expression. Artheus spoke with the voice of a natural ruler, rich with a gravitas that he could never truly hide. It did not compel the ear so much as make one want to listen. He had been a naturally charming orator since the day he was born.

“Once you know the truth, all will be an open book before you. Choose wisely, Held. I can help you no longer.”

Artheus rose from his chair and spread his arms wide as though to encompass the world’s vastness. Even after coming to reign over all the peoples of Aletia, he had never managed to enclose it in his grasp. Yet there was no trace of regret or wistfulness in his hands, only pride.

“But fear not. My will remains. It will aid you, even if I cannot.”

He looked up to the heavens with a piercing gaze, and a smile spread across his face. When he looked back down at Hiro, his face was as bright as a clear sky. Now nothing was left undone.

“The time has come to awaken.”

All at once, Hiro’s vision filled with light. Oddly, it did not dazzle, so he had no need to squint against the glare as he looked back at Artheus.

“Do you think I can find what I’m looking for?”

A vague question, lacking even a definite subject, but Artheus nodded firmly regardless and offered him a warm smile. “I do not doubt it for a moment.”

The tension fell away from Hiro’s shoulders as he looked up at the featureless sky. “I’m glad. Well, I suppose...”

He let the sentence fade away unfinished. Artheus surely knew how it ended, even if he didn’t speak the words aloud. There was only one thing he truly needed to say.

“Until we meet again.”

He closed his eyes. As the light swelled, so too did the darkness burgeon. The two were inseparable, watching over the world together like the sun and the moon.

Gravity took hold of Hiro’s limbs once more as wakefulness washed over him. He opened his eyes. A wooden ceiling came into view. A light hung from the beams, although its flame was too weak to fully drive the darkness from the corners of the room.

He took a breath, sat up, and examined his surroundings. Only then did he notice the woman standing by the door. Her amethyst hair fell to her waist, shimmering in the dim light. Shadows lay over the corners of her compassionate eyes, and fresh pink lips stood out beneath the bridge of her shapely nose. Her delicate features held an ethereal beauty even in the gloam; one glimpse was enough to sear them into one’s memory forever. Hiro knew her name. She was Queen Claudia van Lebering.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

Hiro laid a hand on his neck and tilted his head. “Well enough. How long has it been?”

“A month, perhaps. Today is the twelfth day of the third month.”

His eyes widened. “Longer than I thought...”

“For a long time, I feared you might never wake. It is a relief to see you unharmed.” Claudia’s brows drew into a frown as she stepped closer. “May I ask what has happened to your eye?”

Hiro cocked his head again. Claudia produced a mirror and handed it to him. His right eye was glowing gold and his severed right arm had been restored. Curiously, the hole in his abdomen had also healed.

Artheus. It must have been.

“The final condition has been satisfied,” Artheus had said. The full extent of the boons it would bring to his body remained unclear, but at the very least, regenerating from his injuries was apparently one of them.

I suppose I’ll just have to figure out the rest myself.

As Hiro rubbed his arm, Claudia spoke again. “Your Black Camellia was the same as ever when I paid you a visit a short while ago, but now it appears to have turned white. However did it manage that?” She looked him over searchingly. “The influence of a dharmastone, perchance?”

Devouring the arm of Igel, the young commander of the kingdom of Vulpes—or more precisely, the dharmastone embedded in his hand—had sealed away the Black Camellia’s power. All of its abilities had ceased to function, including its formidably rapid regeneration. The dharmastone remained inside the garment even now, continuing to exert its effects. Most likely, that was the cause of its change of appearance.

A thought struck Hiro. “I notice the one in my side is missing. Did you take it?”

“But of course. Presumptuous of me, I know, but a promise is a promise.”

Claudia’s face betrayed not a hint of remorse. Hiro gave a hopeless shrug, which turned into a quizzical raise of his eyebrow when she held out a hand.

“What?”

“Two, I believe, was our agreement?”

Hiro smiled ruefully. There truly was no getting anything past her. Unfortunately, he could not afford to return the Black Camellia to its original form. Besides, he was not yet done with Igel’s arm.

It’s bound to come in useful sometime.

The feeling was only a premonition for now, but he felt certain that it would become reality. That would not be good enough for Claudia, however, who would not be satisfied with just one. If he failed to make good on their agreement, she would likely deliver his head to Six Kingdoms in person—or perhaps she would take him captive to use as leverage in negotiating with the empire.

“I’m sorry. I still need this one,” he said. As Claudia looked at him askance, he reached into the Black Camellia’s pocket. “Will this do in exchange?”

In his palm lay a manastone, radiating a baleful aura.

“May I take a closer look?” Claudia took the manastone, her interest piqued. A rapturous sigh escaped her lips as she registered its purity, and a flush crept into her cheeks. She peered at it in the dim light with undisguised fascination. “Where in the world did you find this?”

“I was lucky enough to have the chance to enter the royal treasury. It caught my eye, so I asked the emperor for a favor.”

That was a lie, of course, but it was the only way to convince her not to probe further. It was widely known that there were no longer any pure-blooded zlosta in Soleil, so a manastone of such purity could only come from a limited number of sources. As legend had it, the zlosta had emigrated across the southern sea to the Ambition archipelago one thousand years ago, fleeing persecution in the aftermath of the great war. The truth was impossible to verify—passage to the islands was blocked by raging seas—but in any case, not all zlosta had joined the exodus. At least one was known to have stayed behind in Soleil: Lox van Lebering, Claudia’s forefather and a member of the Black Hand.

“What do you think? Will that be enough? I’d say it’s just as good as a dharmastone, myself.”

“Yes, thank you. This will do perfectly. Our compact is sealed. Henceforth, what strength I have is yours to command.” Clearly satisfied, Claudia stowed the manastone away and gave an elegant bow.

“I’m pleased to hear it,” Hiro replied blithely. “I’ll be counting on you.”

Claudia flashed him a pointedly diplomatic smile. Their alliance would only last as long as their interests aligned; if either ended up at a disadvantage, they would just as readily fight each other to the death. They were working together because they could use one another, nothing more.

“Still, you certainly kept me waiting.” Hiro changed the topic with a reproachful remark. “When I went to the trouble of hiding you among the traitors, I pictured you showing up more quickly.”

“I simply chose the moment when the enemy would be most distracted. The success of your plan came first, after all.” Claudia shot him a disapproving glance, placed a hand to her brow, and shook her head. Her voice took on an edge of irritation. “Frankly, given the state of the battlefield, the fact that I arrived in time to save you at all is a feat worthy of honors. I daresay you ask the impossible.”

After routing the Vulpes soldiers laying siege to the town of Severt, Hiro had appropriated their equipment, which Claudia’s troops had used to disguise themselves as Vulpes cavalry in the climactic battle against Six Kingdoms. In addition, he had assigned several skilled agents to command the imperial troops under the guise of central nobles, although their command had quickly fallen apart on account of their lack of military training.

“I brought five thousand soldiers to this conflict. Two thousand remain on the back lines in reserve. Of the remaining three thousand who lent their blades to your ambush, only one thousand are left.” Claudia’s voice held no regret as she reported her losses. They were pawns to be sacrificed, nothing more—talented ones, but pawns nonetheless. “I hope my gain will be worth the price I paid.”

She fixed Hiro with a barbed look, but he thought better of taking offense. No point in wasting words on a conversation that was bound to go in circles; it would only fritter away precious time.

“So what’s Six Kingdoms up to?” he asked.

Claudia frowned at the obvious change of topic but elected to humor him. “If the spies we have in their midst are to be believed, they have been feasting day and night in celebration of your death. Making rather merry, by all accounts.”

“Then almost no one knows I survived.”

“So it would seem, thanks in no small part to my skillful performance. In the eyes of the world, you are a fallen legend.” She clearly believed she deserved the credit and wasn’t even trying to hide it. Hiro snorted, which she tactfully ignored as she produced another report. “After losing so many commanding officers to your assault, their upper ranks appear to be in considerable disarray. I am told this led to a disagreement between Commander Lucia of Anguis and her vice-commander, Luka of Vulpes.”

Luka had wanted them to dig their heels in and hold their ground, while Lucia had advocated for retreating to Faerzen and regrouping. Neither was mistaken, and there would be support among their subordinates for both positions. Nonetheless, Hiro did not expect the Six Kingdoms army to split in two. Human greed was bottomless. Anyone would jump at the prospect of glory if offered tempting enough bait, and he had not only supplied them with a chance that would make anyone drool, he had furnished them with a lie that made it difficult to back out.

“It looks like they’re acting exactly as we planned,” he remarked.

“How maddening it must be for them, knowing that they dance to our tune yet are powerless to do otherwise.” Claudia giggled as she pictured their consternation. “Well then, what next? News of your passing has spread throughout the land. If you were to reveal yourself now, you could leverage your popularity to rally your soldiers’ spirits...if you so wished, of course.”

“I’m afraid not. Revenge will be good enough motivation for the imperial armies. Raising their spirits any higher would just make them reckless. Besides, then there would be no point to any of this.”

Revealing himself now would render all his efforts wasted. There would have been no purpose to his deception. What was more, his reappearance would likely stand in the way of Liz becoming empress. The people would venerate him all the more if they learned he had survived, and the military would extol him too. The War God’s scion is immortal, they would cry. He alone deserves the throne.

The emperor and third prince were dead, the first prince was gone, and the second prince had no interest in anything south of the northern territories. The fourth prince and the sixth princess, with her claim to the title of first emperor reborn, were the only two contenders left. If Hiro remained in the empire, sooner or later, it would split in two. For all the War God’s renown, it was Artheus’s bloodline that had shepherded the nation for a thousand years. Those who disapproved of him would not hesitate to throw their lot in with Liz, regardless of the cost to the empire, and the grinding of their will against the people’s would set the course for civil war. Caught in the middle, the eastern nobles would crumble. Such a conflict in this time of turmoil would lead to the collapse of the empire.

I have to avoid that at all costs.

Claudia saw him deep in thought. “If you are pondering what I suspect,” she said, “I daresay you are being a little paranoid.”

Hiro looked up, his expression conflicted. His fears were far from a paranoid fantasy. Indeed, he had seen them come to life. One thousand years ago, the empire had devolved into two factions, one supporting him, the other supporting Artheus. In spite of the wishes of the men they ostensibly supported, they had feuded constantly for power. One side insisted that only Schwartz deserved the throne, the other that Artheus was the one true emperor, and neither listened when Hiro insisted that he had no interest in ruling. Exhausted by court politics, Hiro had retreated to the battlefield and kept his silence. In retrospect, that had been a mistake that had only made things worse. People drunk on power abused it at the slightest opportunity.

After the war with the zlosta came to a close, the humans of Soleil looked around for their next battle and found one another. Conflict among the nobility manifested as murders, assassinations, and poisonings. Despite Artheus’s best efforts to quench them, the flames burned higher until even the commonfolk were affected. Then, a third faction began to advocate for a coregency, plunging the political landscape into chaos.

The discord lasted until Hiro gave up his status entirely. He renounced the title of high general, relinquished control of the Black Hand to Artheus, and established a small nation on the eastern fringes of the empire ruled by Artheus’s elder sister, Rey. Known as Baum, that nation was now a site of pilgrimage and the residence of the Spirit King. Naturally, many had resented Hiro for giving up his titles so easily, but the second archpriestess had pledged her loyalty to him, pacifying their outrage.

I can’t let that happen again.

Hiro did not belong to this world. He could not assume the burden of a nation when, for all he knew, he might vanish at any time. So, again, he had put himself in harm’s way in order to disarm the most visible threats.

It looks like the worst has been averted...for now. All that’s left is to deal with the truth lurking in the shadows.

As the light grew in strength, the shadows lengthened, and the resplendent glory of the Grantzian Empire cast a long shadow indeed. Even Hiro could not imagine what might happen if its darker aspects were to be unleashed. He had to strengthen its foundations before things came to that, by heavy-handed means if necessary.

He heaved a deep sigh. “Do you have anything I could use to cover my face?” If he was to hide his identity, he would make long use of it.

Claudia folded her arms and cocked her head in thought. After a moment, she gave a little nod. “I believe so. An article of ceremonial significance, I am told. If you might wait a moment, I shall see for myself.”

She turned about and left the room at a brisk walk. As her presence receded down the corridor, Hiro pulled the nearby desk closer. He reached into the pockets of the Black Camellia and produced a humanoid skull, which he laid on the table, along with more manastones.

“It’s only a matter of time before Orcus makes a move,” he murmured. His voice fell from his lips like malignant, black tar. “Will my hand reach this time, I wonder?”

There was one thing he had not told Claudia. Securing her cooperation was not the only reason he had sought out dharmastones—and while stabilizing the empire, as he had one thousand years ago, had been one of his goals in feigning death, it was only a front for his true intent.

“That lies elsewhere.” His fist thumped down on the table as he glared at the skull with simmering hatred. “Your will still lingers in this world. I can’t exactly ignore that, now, can I?”

Day by day, its influence was making itself known, and the curse Hiro bore was beginning to eat away at his flesh.

“I won’t fail again.”

He would destroy his enemy so thoroughly that not even ashes remained. The dharmastone had succeeded in concealing him. Unable to sense his presence, Orcus would conclude that he was indeed dead.

“So hurry up and show yourself.”

The manastones glowed on the table, illuminating Hiro’s face with an ominous light. Rage swirled in the abyss of his eyes as his gaze burned into the skull.

＊＊＊＊＊

The sun had set by the time Claudia returned, carrying a mask and a tray of dinner. Apologetically, she explained that something urgent had demanded her attention. Hiro had his suspicions about what she meant, which a glance out of the window confirmed as he dug into his meal.

“We’re surrounded, I see.”

“So you did notice.”

“With all the noise, it was hard not to.” He spoke between mouthfuls of soup, as nonchalantly as if he were discussing the weather.

“It seems the enemy task force has discovered our position. It was only ever a matter of time, but they tracked us down quicker than I expected.”

“Now that you mention it, where are we?”

Claudia drew up a nearby desk, produced a map, and laid it out. “A place called Fort Veritas, in the middle of the western territories.”

“Is it strong?”

“Oh, not at all. A large force could break it with ease.”

“Then it sounds like I need to get a clearer picture of the situation.” Hiro gulped down the last of his dinner and stood up.

“By all means.” She held out the mask. “But don’t forget this, or your efforts will be for nothing.”

“Of course. It almost slipped my mind.” He affixed the mask with a practiced hand, much like he had donned his old eyepatch, and opened the door. “Fort Veritas, you said? I’m not familiar. Could you show me to the battlements?”

“It’s hardly so large that you will need a guide, but as you wish.” With a shrug, Claudia led him from the room.

In short order, they made their way outside. The moon’s light greeted them as they passed through the door. They had been inside a wooden building, the largest structure in the fort. Rows of longhouses—presumably the troops’ sleeping quarters—stood nearby. Harried soldiers in Lebering colors rushed to and fro with torches in hand.

From what Claudia had said, two thousand of her remaining three thousand men were waiting in reserve on the back lines, meaning that only one thousand had accompanied her to the fort. That the place felt cramped even so only went to show how small it was. From what was visible in the light of the bonfires, the walls were low enough to scale with a ladder and had no chance of standing up to siege weaponry. Put charitably, Fort Veritas could be defended just as well by a small force as by a large one; put less charitably, it would crumble at the slightest blow. It was clearly not fit to weather a siege.

Hiro and Claudia walked past the patrolling sentries and climbed up the stairs to the battlements. A powerful gust of wind swirled around them, sending Claudia’s hair aflutter.

“Now that I think about it, they did contact us requesting our surrender. I declined, of course. Along with appropriate provocation.”

It wasn’t exactly sensible to aggravate the enemy, but knowing Claudia’s temperament, Hiro wasn’t surprised. If anything, perhaps he should have been thankful that she was too arrogant to lay down her arms.

“That does sound like you,” he said nonchalantly as he surveyed their surroundings. Lights danced out on the plain—no, more than lights, a roaring flame bright enough to illuminate the heavens. The fort was completely surrounded by an enormous force. A shiver ran through him at the sight.

“Dear me. How will we ever get out of this?” Claudia laid a hand to her cheek and cocked her head—a gesture it was hard to take at face value when her eyes radiated such obvious enjoyment.

She delights in war. No, that’s not it... She doesn’t think she’s really in any danger.

It was easy enough to guess why: she had already concocted a plan to break out of this deadlock. If she was yet to put it into action, that could only mean she was testing him.

“Truly a dilemma,” she murmured. “How would you approach this quandary?”

“It sounds like you’ve already got something figured out.”

She giggled. “Oh, but where would be the fun in doing everything myself? I have not forgotten how ingeniously you defeated my brother’s coup, but much has changed since then. I would know the measure of my ally-to-be.”

Her intention, then, was to watch from up close while Hiro strategized, in order to satisfy herself that his edge had not dulled. Moreover, her subordinates would regard him with suspicion. A mysterious stranger smugly assuming a position at their queen’s side would stick in anybody’s throat, much less being asked to trust them. In short, he had to prove his worth not only to Claudia, but to the soldiers who followed her, and demonstrate that they stood to benefit from his assistance.

Given what’s coming, I can’t blame her for wanting to be certain I can pull my weight.

She was using this opportunity to gauge his true worth; he could sense it in her piercing gaze. And if that was the case...well, he couldn’t let her down.

“Do you know the odds?”

“I do.” There was a beguiling glint in Claudia’s eyes as she replied. “We have one thousand men, while Six Kingdoms has twenty.”

It would have helped to know what kind of commander they were up against, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Hiro set his hand to his chin and sank into thought.

Claudia glanced his way, then swept her gaze over their surroundings. “As best I can tell from here, their camp is quite secure. There is little chance of staging a night raid, I fear. And they have erected a great many bonfires. We shall all sleep poorly tonight.”

Her point, in short, was that the enemy was well prepared for nocturnal warfare. The moment they saw the fort’s defenses falter, they would stage an all-out assault, and if it did remain secure, they would try to deny the defenders rest.

I’ll need to open with something bold and audacious. Let’s show them who they’re up against.

Demonstrating the difference in their abilities would be the cornerstone of things to come. In a world that readily culled the powerless, some walls were insurmountable. The strong seized victory while the weak supped bitter defeat; that was the law of nature, as simple and clear-cut as it had been one hundred or even one thousand years ago. When life and death hung on a razor’s edge, victory was all that mattered.

“Let’s bloody them a little.” As schemes spun in his mind, Hiro shot Claudia a sidelong glance.

“Oh?”

“I want to get a sense of their commander’s temperament—whether they’re aggressive or passive. That will help me narrow down my options.”

“Do you mean to say you have a way to overcome these odds?” Her eyes opened wide as surprise filled her lovely face. And several, no less, she wanted to add, although she stopped short of vocalizing it.

“I wouldn’t have said so if I didn’t. Stick to the steps I have in mind and our victory will be guaranteed.”

That was easier said than done. It was one thing to think of a promising scheme, but another thing entirely to implement it. Some convergence of uncontrollable factors could snatch defeat from the jaws of victory at any time. That was an eternal truth of the battlefield. Yet Hiro spoke with unshakable confidence.

“Emotions are common to all human beings. Even the mightiest emperor or the commander of the strongest army are just people in the end. They come in different types, but they all have their weaknesses.”

That made the course of war easy to steer, provided one saw true. If he knew the enemy’s heart, he could read their minds and ascertain how best to carry out his plans. It was impossible to lose when he was playing both sides of the board.

“Any more explanation would probably just sound like armchair strategizing...so instead, let me show you.”

Actions spoke louder than words. Better to give Claudia and her troops a miracle they could not ignore.

“What do you propose?”

“Nothing too tricky. First, could you put out the bonfires on the walls?”

Claudia looked at him in disbelief. “With respect, are you quite sane?”

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained. The bolder our plan, the more cautiously the enemy will scrutinize it. Even the most incompetent commander would get suspicious if we offered them a tasty morsel out of nowhere. That’s just human nature. But it’s also human nature to want to check if it’s really poisoned.” He opened his mouth in a half-yawn and continued. “And reduce our watch. Tonight, we’ll allow all the soldiers we can spare to rest.”

“And what if the enemy should attack?”

“Then we’ll have the remaining sentries retaliate with arrows. Oh, and if you could send the rest to gather rocks...” Hiro cut himself off and looked down at the ground, cupping his chin in his hands. “Yes, about a dozen per soldier. That should do. It shouldn’t be hard to find some in the courtyard.” He smiled sheepishly, seeing that Claudia had fallen silent. “It’ll be fine. Trust me.”

“Are you certain?” She seemed to be choosing her words with care. Clearly, she didn’t quite believe him.

“As certain as I can be. Have a little faith.”

Her shoulders slumped in defeat. “Very well. As you wish.”

She summoned one of her retainers and relayed Hiro’s commands. In short order, messengers dispersed throughout the fort, conveying his orders. The bonfires on the battlements went out one by one. Before long, the light had faded and the fort was swathed in inky blackness.

“The enemy has certainly noticed by now,” murmured Claudia in the dark. “What next?”

Hiro stared at the sea of candlelights flickering out in the night—the enemy encampment. “Their first reaction will be confusion. After that settles down, they’ll try and put together a plan, but opinion will be split into two camps: those who know they’re prepared for a night battle and see no reason to hold back, and those who suspect a trap. The debate will get heated, and they’ll waste time.” He spoke matter-of-factly, as though stating the obvious. “After they fail to reach an accord, they’ll send in spies. When you don’t know what the enemy is thinking, all you can do is go and listen.”

Anyone would be wary of a trap under the circumstances. The enemy’s command would naturally be cautious. If they suffered losses attacking a scant one thousand men holed up in a rickety fort, no excuses would save them from ridicule. Everything they had spent their lives building would crumble in an instant.

Claudia nodded hesitantly. “But what if the enemy commander is foolhardy enough to seize what he thinks is an opportunity?”

“Attack or don’t, it’s all the same in the end.” Hiro thrust a hand out into empty air. Every human being feared the dark. It was only natural; there was no way to tell what lurked in its depths. That was why they wandered in search of light: so they could gaze into the abyss for as long as their hearts desired. “I’ll crush them no matter how fiercely they struggle. No one can fight their fears in a world without light.”

＊＊＊＊＊

Darkness hung low over the land. A moaning gale carried a biting chill. The light of the torches flickered violently as it passed over them, sending sparks spiraling into the sky like tiny stars.

The Vulpes task force’s command tent lay in the center of the camp. General Macrill stood at the mouth of the tent, gazing at the distant shadow that was Fort Veritas.

“An hour already since the bonfires went out...” His brows knitted in bewilderment.

White puffs rose from the mouth of the aide beside him as he read off the spies’ report. “There’s no sign of the enemy on the battlements, sir. It seems prudent to commence an all-out assault.”

General Macrill pursed his lips. “There’s time yet to wait for the scouts to return. What if the enemy is waiting in ambush?”

“We have twenty thousand men, sir. That ramshackle fort will offer little resistance. The battle will be decided in short order.”

“Don’t be so quick to assume. True, we have the numbers, and morale is high. On the face of it, victory would seem assured.”

“Then please, sir, you must give the order—”

General Macrill cut the man off with a wave of his hand. “Think, man. What would happen if we should fail? We will be driven to a cliff’s edge. Word has come already that the empire has finished assembling its forces.”

If they could not take Fort Veritas by the time imperial reinforcements arrived, the troops’ morale would fall dramatically.

“Low spirits we can cope with, but if we suffer a loss on the field, no excuse will be enough.”

The aide dug in his heels, evidently fearing for his reputation. “But sir, with respect, if we surround our prey only to let them go, we will be the laughingstock of the continent.”

General Macrill gave a deep, disapproving sigh. “If they must laugh, let them laugh. There’s no greater shame than defeat.”

Only one thing would decide success in this battle: taking Fort Veritas. There was a world of difference between a failed assault and an assault not attempted. The most important factor was bringing this matter to a close without compromising their future endeavors. If they failed to take a fort of one thousand men with twenty thousand, the consequences would be immeasurable. A drop in morale would not be so bad if it was limited to the task force, but if it spread to the main army, Six Kingdoms might be unable to weather the imperial counterattack.

“Our casus belli is falling apart. We undertook this invasion in the name of Faerzen’s liberation, but what have we done with it? Pillaged the empire’s western territories, that’s what. The other nations will turn on us soon enough.”

Macrill foresaw a brutal, prolonged war in Six Kingdoms’ future. They had started in an advantageous position, but that could crumble beneath their feet at any second.

“Our victories have kept morale high, and we still have more than enough men despite our losses. Plunder has kept our food stores full. If not for our lack of officers, we’d be in an ideal position. But that kind of thinking will lead us into a trap.”

Namely, arrogance. Repeated victories against the empire had made them overconfident. Now they thought they could best any foe. That was not necessarily a bad thing on its face, but it bred undesirable complacency. To make matters worse, after the battle with the fourth prince, there were not enough superiors to keep the men in line. Now, the soldiers’ overconfidence was becoming endemic.

“Every kingdom’s officers are competing for glory. There’s little we can do to order calm when they’re all plotting to undermine one another.” All the more reason to avoid incurring losses in a small-scale engagement. That, in a nutshell, was General Macrill’s reasoning.

“So you counsel caution, sir?”

“Aye, I do. The bait before our eyes might be tempting, but overextending ourselves now won’t do us any good. We’ll wait for our scouts to return before we decide whether to attack.”

General Macrill expelled a cloud of white breath and looked up at the sky. Presently, the night had been so clear that the stars seemed close enough to touch, but now they lay beneath a thick layer of cloud.

“Even the moon hides herself to fend off the cold. Whose side will the night take, I wonder?”

This was the perfect opportunity for a night raid. The darkness would thwart the enemy’s eyes. Under any other circumstances, Macrill would have given the order to attack. This time, however, something in the corner of his mind gave him pause—a sensation that the enemy was lurking in deeper darkness yet, watching his every move.

“These old bones have grown too weary,” he muttered grimly.

The aide’s ears were sharp enough to hear. “Weary, sir?”

“Aye. When you reach my age, you start to lose your edge—”

General Macrill broke off as the sudden sound of footsteps cut through the night air. He squinted into the darkness, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his sword. In an instant, he was ready for combat.

The aide smiled wryly at his reflexes. “You don’t seem to have lost it yet, sir.”

“Aye, perhaps you’re right.” With a shrug, General Macrill lifted his hand from his sword and folded his arms. His face turned surly, embarrassed perhaps by his twitchiness.

In time, several figures emerged from darkness into the torchlight.

“The mission went sour, I see,” he said.

The arrivals were the reconnaissance unit he had dispatched to investigate the fort. They looked far more bedraggled than when they had left. Some had their hands pressed to wounds on their sides, others dripped blood from their foreheads, and yet others shuffled forward blindly, dead-eyed. All of them were pierced deep with arrows.

The moment General Macrill saw their pitiful state, he knew. “So it was bait after all.”

“Forgive me, my lord!” The captain fell to the ground at Macrill’s feet and pressed his head against the earth. “We tried to poke the hornet’s nest to get a sense of the enemy’s movements, but as you can see...it didn’t go as planned.”

So that was the cause of the fiasco: a failure to follow orders. General Macrill had issued no instructions to attack the fort, only to watch and report back as to whether it had any exploitable openings. Most likely, the reconnaissance unit had let ideas of glory go to their heads. Still, he thought better of coming down on them harshly. Scolding bruised soldiers bristling with arrows would only reflect poorly on him.

“Then it was a trap?”

“Yes, my lord. A rain of arrows fell on us out of the dark. They must have been expecting us.”

There was nothing more terrifying than the sound of arrows in darkness. A man could hold a shield over his head, but the whistle of passing shafts would make him paranoid, and the moment he flinched in fear, he would expose himself. The enemy needed only aim their bows toward the screams and they would die flailing in the night, drowning in a sea of inky blackness.

Macrill offered the wounded returnees a few words of encouragement and turned back to the aide. “They must have been lying in wait on the battlements. We’ll change plans. Tonight, we’ll deny them sleep.”

They would beat the drums and raise battle cries until daybreak. The enemy would not get a wink of sleep with their nerves on end.

“Very good, sir. I’ll relay your orders to the officers.” With a bow, the man turned around and jogged away.

Privately, Macrill doubted that the tactic would have much of an effect. It might have worked well enough on inexperienced troops, but the men holed up in Fort Veritas would not blink at a little noise.

“We’ll attack come morning. Whether we commit our full strength, however... That remains to be seen.”

He ordered his aides to convene in the command tent and, with one last glance at Fort Veritas, stepped back inside.

＊＊＊＊＊

As the morning sun began to rise, Hiro surveyed the ground outside the gates from the battlements.

“Not much to show for all that noise...”

A gust of wind ruffled his hair. He wrinkled his nose internally at the freezing blast but let no emotion show upon his face. A handful of enemy soldiers, less than half a dozen, lay sprawled in front of the gates. His lips pulled into a slight smile as he saw the scattering of rocks nearby.

“But it looks like it worked well enough.”

In darkness too deep to see, sound became the primary means of discerning the nature of things. The enemy soldiers had mistaken the thud of pebbles for a rain of arrows, producing the scene before him.

“My,” said a demure voice. “You’re up early.”

Hiro turned to see Claudia, the queen of amethyst, wearing a brisk smile.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked.

“Like a baby, thanks to last night’s lullaby.”

“I am pleased to see that your ruse appears to have succeeded.” Claudia stepped closer. “Do you now have a better grasp of the commander’s disposition?”

“More or less. To put it kindly, he’s a cautious man who thinks carefully before he acts. And to put it less kindly, he’s a fool who fails to capitalize on opportunities.”

In short, he was mediocre. A bland, unexceptional man of no particular talent or note.

“Now here’s a question for you. My plan had several holes in it. The enemy commander didn’t spot them, but can you?”

Hiro turned back to the scene beyond the gate. Claudia didn’t hesitate to follow his lead, placing a hand on the battlements and looking below without question. Her eyes narrowed as though imagining the one-sided slaughter that had taken place the previous night.

“For one thing, I notice there are few bodies. Which is to say, most of the enemy must have escaped alive.”

Judging by the corpses, the enemy had been clad in light armor, but they had at least been wearing proper head protection. The rocks might have rattled a few brains, but they would not have been lethal. All of the bodies left behind sported arrow shafts—the rest must have managed to get away.

“So I can only assume that the commander failed to adequately interpret their reports.”

If he had been more diligent in asking them the details or examining their injuries, Fort Veritas might very well be burning right now.

“Well, perhaps it might be presumptuous to say that the fort would have fallen,” Claudia added. “In any case, he is evidently a rational man, but one blind to small details and ill practiced at reading the battlefield.”

“Full marks. And now that it’s morning, he’ll realize that he’s been tricked.”

Whether he had noticed the scene outside the fort for himself or been informed by his spies, he would be trembling with anger. If he had a shred of self-respect, he would attack—an eventuality that the imperial forces had well prepared for the previous night. Amusement sparkled in Hiro’s eyes as he looked at the enemy lines, wondering when they would begin.

“Well, well. Just as I predicted.”

Drums resounded from the Six Kingdoms encampment. The forces raised a battle cry and began to advance. Horns blared on all sides as the army ground into motion. Here and there trundled the larger shapes of siege weaponry.

“Time to open the gates,” Hiro declared. “Is everything ready?”

Claudia nodded. “Indeed. And with a good night’s rest, the men’s spirits are high.”

“Then let’s get started, shall we?”

He raised a hand. The standard bearer saw the signal and waved a banner. The stones beneath his feet began to shake as the drawbridge lowered. A shudder of surprise ran through the enemy ranks at the unexpected move, but they could not stop their advance; no order had been given to halt. The front line looked clearly perturbed by this, but until the command came, they could do nothing but keep walking.

“How do you imagine they will respond?” Claudia asked.

“If they suspect an empty fort gambit, they’ll most likely pull their forces back.”

“And if not?”

“If they’re foolish enough to think they’ve seen through me, then they’ll charge.”

They had fallen for his trick the previous night. Loath to be deceived a second time, they would quickly jump to wild speculation. The first instance had robbed them of their composure. More to the point, they would have to be quick about delivering orders to the front line to avoid detracting from the first cohort’s momentum, but anything insufficiently decisive would throw the chain of command into disarray. With precious little time left to think, they would naturally resort to simple commands that could quickly propagate through the ranks.

“Either they’ll charge or they’ll retreat. Unfortunately for them, it won’t make a difference. I’ll win either way.”

As he gazed down, pity in his eyes, the first cohort lurched into motion. A cloud of dust rose in their wake as they accelerated.

“A charge it is, then. I suppose that means I must excuse myself.” Claudia headed down the stairs to the courtyard without waiting for a reply.

Hiro didn’t spare her so much as a glance as she departed. He pressed a hand to his mask and regarded the enemy with a smirk. “You should have spent a moment to stop and take stock. Regurgitating simple orders isn’t the same as thinking on your feet. And when you give up on using your head, you make it obvious that you’ve been knocked off-balance.”

The corners of his mouth pulled into a sneer as he raised his hand to the standard bearer.

At that very moment, the enemy’s first cohort cleared the gate and poured into the courtyard. They showed no joy at having broken in, however. There was not a single soldier of Lebering to be seen.

“Have the cowards given up on defending the place?!” one of the men shouted.

“Check the walls!” cried another. “They must be hiding up high!”

They could not very well stand still while assaulting a fortress, especially not with the rest of the army pressing in behind them. They had no choice but to move forward. As they moved deeper, however, many of them inexplicably slipped and fell over.

“What’s this on the ground?! Mud?! Oy, watch your feet!”

Horses pitched over with agonized whinnies, dashing their riders against the ground. Pandemonium ensued as the Six Kingdoms soldiers tried to struggle to their feet. Rendered defenseless, they would make easy prey for any archers on the battlements.

“What an embarrassment. Talk about reckless.”

Seeing the soldiers descend into confusion, Hiro sent another signal to the standard bearer. An archer rose from a hiding place on the wall and loosed an arrow. The tip of the shaft was wreathed in fire. It sliced through the air to drive deep into the mud-soaked ground at the soldiers’ feet...and the air exploded outward as a raging inferno erupted in the courtyard.

“Gyaaaaaah! Help m—!”

Dying screams rang through the air. Enemy soldiers fled in all directions, limbs flailing with the unbearable heat. They forgot about fighting, threw away their weapons, even tried to rip off their armor, but burning horses knocked them off their feet and trampled more than a few beneath their hooves.

Naturally, not all of the soldiers were caught in the flames; those who had managed to break free from the carnage in the courtyard were already halfway up the stairs built into the walls. However, they stopped and stared as the fire broke out. At that moment, a rain of arrows struck.

“Gyaaah!”

“Curses! It’s a trap! Fall back! Fall ba— Urk!”

Their shaft-riddled corpses toppled down the stairs. As screams filled the air, Claudia’s voice rang out above the din.

“Cavalry, charge!”

The courtyard shuddered with drumming hoofbeats as Claudia appeared at the head of a unit of riders. They surged forward like a raging torrent, skewering the fleeing enemy on their lances.

“Drive them back to their tents!” she cried, raising her sword high. “All those brave of heart, with me!”

With that, she set about massacring the enemy massing at the gate. Faced with an unorthodox offensive and a succession of devious traps, the first cohort quickly crumbled.

“Now, the question is whether the rest will come to save their beleaguered allies.”

The blast of horns rose from the enemy lines. Hiro glanced at their main force to see the second cohort begin to move, coming to save the first. He turned away and strolled down the courtyard stairs.

“Bad move. You should have sounded the retreat, not sent more men in.”

As he arrived at the gate, Claudia rode up, fresh from laying waste to the enemy. Her shoulders were heaving, and the battle fervor had not quite faded from her face.

“I see the second cohort has begun to move,” she said.

“It looks that way.”

“The core lies behind them. What say you?”

Most likely, she hoped to harness their momentum to plunge straight into the heart of the army. She was strong enough that she might even succeed, but it was far too risky to attempt. Hiro estimated the enemy’s first cohort at five thousand men, but only around eight hundred had burned to death in the courtyard; even taking Claudia’s charge into account, their losses probably amounted to fewer than two thousand. Fort Veritas was simply too small. If only it had been larger, their losses would have been devastating.

“I think we need another plan,” Hiro said. “This won’t be decisive enough on its own.”

“What do you intend?”

“What’s behind the enemy’s core?”

“Their supplies, I believe. But they are well guarded.”

“It’s not time for that yet.” A faint smile spread across Hiro’s face. “Could you place archers on the battlements? About a hundred should suffice.”

“What are you going to do with that few men?”

“I’m going to capture the commander of the second cohort.”

The commander of the first cohort would have done just as well, but the man had made a lucky escape and probably retreated to the back lines by now. It would not be easy to fool prey that had fallen for a trap once, and there was no need to waste time on trying. Better to change focus to the second cohort, which was rushing in recklessly.

“You truly mean it, don’t you?” Shooting Hiro an exasperated look, Claudia summoned one of her retainers.

“Back soon.”

Hiro set out with a nonchalant wave, as though he were going for a morning walk. He passed through the ranks of heavy infantry guarding the entrance and out of the fort.

The second cohort was charging furiously toward the gate, hellbent on seizing glory. He watched them come.

“Archers, loose arrows.”

His voice was nigh on a whisper, easily snatched away by the clamor of the battlefield. But it carried even so, reaching their ears unfailingly through the storm of clashing swords. Without a moment’s hesitation, the nearby archers dutifully raised their bows skyward and let loose. The first barrage was a warning, taken up by the archers lined up on the battlements. Gaps appeared in the enemy ranks as their momentum slowed.

Hiro took another step forward and patted his neck provocatively. “Well? What are you waiting around for? The commander’s right here. Come and get him.”

The enemy’s front line hesitated for a second, taken aback by this strange masked man’s appearance on the battlefield. A handful of eyes filled with outrage as they registered his noble attire.

“It’s their leader! Cut him down! Leave the rest, just take his head!”

They drew steel and charged ahead, shields raised to fend off arrows from above. The imperial heavies moved forward to shield Hiro. Blades clashed and metal rang, showering the field with countless sparks. Armor caved in, blood sprayed, brain matter arced through the air. Battle cries drowned out screams, only to be stifled in turn by raw fury.

Seeing the fighting begin, the rest of the enemy cavalry charged, refusing to be left behind. That was a mistake. Their ranks all but collapsed in the confusion.

“Now, let’s find that commander.” With a thin smile, Hiro drew his black blade. “Out of my way.”

Every swing cut another man down as he made his way forward. He threaded his way through the gaps in the enemy lines, light-footed, pressing constantly ahead. A great horde of soldiers swarmed toward him, but their efforts were in vain. Their spears failed to hit their mark, their battle axes clove the ground, their blades slashed empty air, and a mountain of corpses rose in Hiro’s wake. The display of inhuman swordwork left the enemy stunned. Even as the blood flowed beneath his feet, it was as though he were doing nothing but striding forward.

“Terror breeds hesitation,” he said to the oncoming enemy. “Fury breeds stagnation, sorrow breeds stasis, and elation will weigh you down.”

He drove his sword through a soldier’s throat, then spun as he wrenched it free, lopping off the heads of two more. Crimson arced high as his white mantle fluttered through the air, bearing not a single bloodstain. He unveiled feat upon feat of astounding skill, breaking the enemy’s spirits, pushing them to give in.

“Fear, dread, anger, sadness... You should choose one emotion to take to the battlefield.”

“Gah!”

A helmet crumpled beneath the hilt of his black blade. He stepped callously over the body.

“Never hesitate. The battlefield is no place to let your mind wander. Keep your edge sharp and ready to cut down your foe.” His cold warning carried unmistakable fury, promising death to his enemies. “Now taste despair.”

He surged forward, a dancing storm of blood and cutting steel, never stopping, dispensing death and then streaking across the battlefield in search of new prey. After seeing the carnage he wreaked, not a soul could summon the courage to stop him. The pressure of his presence was something that mortal men could neither resist nor endure.

In time, the enemy’s momentum ebbed—little surprise, when they were forbidden from retreating yet unable to advance. And in such circumstances, the role of breaking the deadlock fell to the commander.

“What are you doing?! Press the attack, you louts! Their gates are open! Would you let them mock us?!”

The voice was a little too unseemly to be stirring, lacking in intensity and not quite noble enough to foster courage. It issued from a man clad in extravagant armor, holding a jewel-encrusted sword high. Judging from his well-groomed steed, it was clear that he was the commander of the second cohort.

Hiro turned, a cold smile spreading across his face. “There you are.”

Terror had settled over the enemy’s vanguard. It was all they could do to raise trembling blades in his direction. He sprinted across the battlefield, gently carving the heads from anyone foolish enough to stand in his way. Only one thing mattered: the bellowing figure of the commander.

The man saw Hiro coming, and his lips pulled back in glee. “You may call me—”

“Don’t bother. I already hold your fate in my hands.”

The nearby bodyguards sprang to defend their master. Hiro planted his foot in the dirt and leaped high, taking two heads over the course of his arc through the air. Alighting on the ground, he picked up a discarded sword and sliced off an astonished soldier’s arm before lopping the heads off the men hastening to attack him with a single mighty swing. The commander had lost his guards in the span of a moment. As he looked about in a panic, Hiro’s fist caught him squarely in the face.

“Oomph!”

The man fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes, knocked clean unconscious. Hiro picked him up by the collar and looked around threateningly at the massing Six Kingdoms soldiers. He gave a conspicuous yawn. “Try it.”

He made no move to defend himself and looked so tired that a stray arrow or spear thrust or sword stroke would tear through his limbs like paper. But the enemy made no move. Pressure emanated from his slender body like a gale, and the glint of the golden eye behind his mask radiated an indescribable authority.

“I’m taking your commander hostage,” he declared. “Do any of you object?”

Unsurprisingly, nobody stepped aside to let him go. Such a mocking request would bruise any warrior’s pride. The soldiers’ eyes burned bright with the will to fight, regardless of the strength of their opponent.

“Give back Lord Wake!” someone cried. The shout rallied their spirits; they shed their fear and charged.

Hiro could have retreated to the fort with Lord Wake as his hostage, but he wanted to acknowledge the soldiers’ bravery. They had refused to flee or abandon their commander, even if it meant death, and that deserved recognition.

“I’ll show you the true meaning of despair.”

He lifted his fingers to his mask and a gust of wind blew, setting his white mantle fluttering. The shadows on the ground began to dance. Grotesque noises rang in his ears. Screams tore skyward. Howls rose from men on the brink of death, but faced with his strength, their cries faded away as vainly as the flames of their lives. None could stop his advance. To stand in his way was futile. Any who tried were exterminated by overwhelming might, tantamount to divine judgment. He walked, and the way cleared.

By the time Hiro reached the gates of the fort, the commander in his grasp was splattered with gore from head to toe. However, not a speck of dust besmirched Hiro’s white mantle, and not a drop of blood had touched the unsettling mask upon his face. The Lebering soldiers greeted him with mouths agape.

Six Kingdoms troops followed him in, seeking to reclaim their commander, although their faces were stiff with terror and they looked ready to weep. Sadly, their desperate hopes would come to nothing. A rain of arrows fell on them from the battlements, picking them off one by one.

Hiro ordered the Lebering soldiers to fall back and raised his sword to the standard bearer. With a metallic grating, the gate slammed closed. A fierce gust of wind blew through the courtyard. The remaining enemy soldiers stared dumbfounded at the gate, slowly turning pale. With the only exit closed behind them, they were trapped.

“Take them prisoner,” Hiro commanded. “If they fight back, you’re free to kill them.”

The Lebering troops set about restraining the captives. There was no resistance. When Hiro looked back over his shoulder, they had already laid down their weapons and fallen to their knees. He handed the commander off to one of his allies and approached Claudia, who was sipping nonchalantly from a cup of tea in the shade of the trees.

“I’m impressed you can drink tea at a time like this.”

“Would you care for some?”

The courtyard was strewn with the remains of both friends and foes—charred corpses, bodies with arrow-pierced skulls, dismembered limbs, scattered viscera. A flicker of delight passed over Claudia’s face as she smiled daintily amid the carnage. She breathed in the aroma of the tea with evident relish, complaining only that it smelled a little burnt. Either she was suppressing her disgust, or her stomach was so strong that she did not care. The former would at least have been understandable, but if it was the latter, her heart was surely lacking some essential piece.

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that.” Hiro took a seat nearby. “All that running around has made my throat dry.”

She set about pouring him a cup. “What do you intend to do next?”

Hiro made a noise. “I’m still thinking about it.”

The enemy’s future assaults would be less sophisticated. Their morale would suffer dramatically for having fallen into his trap. The commander would almost certainly withdraw for a while in order to rally their spirits.

“Then I shall look forward to seeing what you devise.”

As Claudia poured the tea into a silver goblet—presumably to demonstrate that it was not poisoned—a messenger rode up to her.

“Six Kingdoms has begun to withdraw, Your Majesty,” the man announced.

“So, they’re giving up...and with so much time left in the day too.”

The sun was still high in the sky. All across the fort, soldiers of Lebering raised victory cries. It was hard to blame them—repelling twenty thousand with one was a feat worthy of celebration. In a broader sense, however, they were still surrounded on all sides and cornered like a rat in a trap. The gap in numbers might have narrowed, but the enemy had fifteen thousand men.

“And so we return to square one, although I regret that I must be the bearer of bad news.” Claudia expelled a regretful sigh as she handed Hiro the goblet. “Our stocks of both food and men are dwindling. Shall I call upon the reserves?”

They had won the engagement, but with little provisions stockpiled, it would not be possible to survive a siege. More to the point, there was a limit to how long men could fight on morale alone. They had begun the day with a thousand soldiers and—pending an account of the number of wounded—may have ended it with far less. The pace would not last for the battle tomorrow, or the day after that.

“No food, no men, only high spirits...” Hiro sipped pensively at his tea. Behind the rising steam, his left eye glinted sorrowfully. “There’s nothing for it. We’ll finish this tonight.”

The Six Kingdoms troops had been led around by the nose by a thousand men before being forced to beat a retreat. Their morale would be plummeting, and their general would inevitably bear the brunt of it. As discontent built with a commander who had fallen for the enemy’s tricks, the officers would take out their frustrations on the troops, blaming them for failing to take the fort despite their overwhelming advantage. Their abuse would quickly bring about rupture and discord. Under such circumstances, an army of any size would descend into a mindless rabble...but they were not there yet. Hiro had to sever the thin thread that held them together, and to do that, he had to break their spirits.

“Once night falls, we’ll release the prisoners.” He surveyed the courtyard, where the stench of blood and death was settling. At last, his golden eye came to rest on the Six Kingdoms soldiers seated by the wall. “Until then, keep them blindfolded. And execute perhaps two dozen, if you could.” His tongue slipped out to moisten his lips like a serpent lurking in darkness. Even as he gave the brutal order, his voice was fierce and bold.

Claudia did not so much as blink to see him so, but she did regard him with an unsettling gaze. After a while, she closed her eyes and struck a thoughtful pose, undisguised delight playing on her lips.

“All shall be as you wish, my lord.”

＊＊＊＊＊

“What a pitiful showing.”

Fury erupted with a crash. The desk shook beneath the old general’s fist. Nobody said a word. They waited in silence for his anger to pass.

“One thousand cavalry dead. Two thousand infantry dead. Four thousand out of commission, including wounded. Grievous losses against a force that size, I’m sure you can agree. We have twenty thousand men, and this is the best we can do.”

“They appear to have a capable strategist in their midst, sir. Once morning comes, surely we can march on the fort with clear heads. I daresay the men will look to the next battle with redoubled vigilance.”

After stumbling repeatedly into the enemy’s traps, General Macrill was furious. His aides hastened to calm him with platitudes, their faces taut with desperation, but none of them dared to look him in the eye. They spoke as though their lips had been greased.

“We came across some old reports, sir. It seems Fort Veritas was formerly occupied by our forces. We gave it up around the time of the battle with Fourth Prince Hiro—too quickly to destroy the place, it seems, but the reports say that we took all the food from the storehouses. The enemy cannot withstand a protracted engagement. So long as we are methodical about our assault, our victory is assured.”

“Do you truly think that capturing one run-down old fort will absolve this disgrace?” Macrill spat.

Far from becoming more vigilant, most of the troops were so despondent that they could hardly fight. Besides, dragging the battle into a protracted siege could quickly turn against them if imperial reinforcements arrived.

“I ask again, gentlemen. Will sacking this place restore our honor?”

Nobody dared reply. They knew it would not. They would all be reprimanded for this failure. If they were unlucky, their heads would roll.

“Then all that matters is bringing this matter to a close. We must finish what we’ve started.”

Victory was a necessity. Defeat would earn them all a thousand deaths.

Three options now lay before General Macrill: to stage a night raid; to attack more methodically the next day; or to return to the main force and await punishment. Another failure was not an option. If he attacked the following day but could not break the fort, time would grow short; the forces of the empire were drawing closer by the hour. An unsuccessful night raid, meanwhile, would not only fail to regain his honor, it might cause responsibility to fall on Luka. While he cared little for his own life, he had no desire to see her executed. To retreat empty-handed would at least ensure her safety.

“Tell me your thoughts, gentlemen. What would you have me do?”

As a sullen atmosphere settled over the tent, the entrance suddenly flew open and a sentry entered. The aides’ despondent gazes converged on him.

“A moment, if you would, sir.” The sentry approached General Macrill, clearly intimidated. “It appears that the enemy has freed their captives. They have just returned.”

Macrill’s brows knitted at this new puzzle. Why would the enemy go to the trouble of taking prisoners only to immediately let them go? With a strange sense of foreboding, he rose from his seat.

“I’ll see them. Where are they?”

After suffering the humiliation of being captured, the men would no doubt have preferred to receive their punishment without having to look him in the eye, but with discontent building among the troops, that was a difficult request to grant. A display of compassion on behalf of a commander could go a long way to restoring unity. Conversely, if he berated them, morale would fall and his support would crumble.

“They await outside,” the sentry said.

General Macrill set out, and his aides fell in behind him. The cold seized at them the moment they passed through the tent flap. Nearby stood a group of soldiers with their heads bowed. Exhaling misty breaths, they approached the returned captives.

“Welcome back,” Macrill said. “I’m pleased you’re all safe and sound.” He greeted them appreciatively before proceeding. “Now, if I may ask, how did you come to be released? Why did the enemy set you free?”

The question was addressed to the man at the head of the group: Commander Wake of the second cohort. He seemed to have received medical attention—he wore a bandage around his head and carried his arm in a sling. The men behind him were in a similarly pitiful state. None of them had escaped the battle unscathed.

“I don’t know, sir,” Wake replied. His brow furrowed beneath his bloodstained bandage. “They didn’t so much as interrogate us. They simply blindfolded us and let us go. I fear I’ve no satisfactory explanation to offer you. We are just as confused as you.”

“Indeed.” General Macrill unconsciously heaved a long sigh, unable to hide his disappointment.

Sensing his commander’s frustration, Wake pressed his head to the dirt. “Forgive me, sir! I know I have failed you! I only ask that you spare my life!”

If anything, General Macrill was too astounded to be angry, but Wake—convinced that his head was on the chopping block—only continued to plead.

“As unwelcome as this advice may be, sir,” one of the aides whispered, “I believe mercy would be the wiser course. The troops are watching. I implore you to set aside your anger.”

Macrill had never had any intention of executing anyone, but looking around, he could see that a large number of soldiers had gathered. If he failed to show forgiveness, it could easily plant the seed of mistrust in their hearts.

“I’ll see that you’re fed,” he said. “After that, focus on getting yourselves back to health. You’ll be needed soon enough.”

Wake’s eyes widened. “We are not to be executed?”

“Nothing of the sort.” Macrill dropped to one knee and met his gaze. “If not for me, you wouldn’t have ended up in this sorry state in the first place.”

“You are most generous, sir! I will repay this kindness on the field, I swear it!”

Macrill looked on with a smile on his lips as Wake bowed and began spouting adulations. Once word of this spread around the camp, morale would finally begin to recover.

“That will do. Have your wounds seen to.” He held out his hand to help the man to his feet—and froze. A dumb noise slipped from his lips. “Eh?”

Blood poured from Wake’s mouth. A black sword protruded from his back, its malignant blade darker than darkness. He collapsed in a pool of his own blood.

“Run rings around the enemy until they can no longer think, then finish them in one fell swoop.”

Behind, a masked man unwound the bandages from his face. His right eye blazed golden even in the night. A shiver ran up Macrill’s spine. Every muscle in his body froze. Every nerve screamed that this man was dangerous.

The masked man cast aside his bloodstained cloak to reveal a white military uniform. “So goes the essence of strategy. The road to victory. The teachings of Mars.”

Blood sprayed as the black blade slid free from Wake’s body. Eerie shadows danced across the mask in the flickering light of the wind-stirred bonfires. Even in his pure white garb, the stranger’s presence felt so faint that he melted easily into the darkness. Perhaps he had been there from the beginning; perhaps he had only just appeared; perhaps he did not even really exist at all. Macrill shivered. There was no way to tell.

“I’ve come for your head. Time to die a warrior’s death.” The masked man raised his right hand before his eyes. His forefinger unfurled to point squarely at Macrill. “Draw steel.”

The soldiers prostrating themselves behind him jumped to their feet and drew their swords.

“Devour your enemies and offer their souls to the heavens.”

They fell upon the dumbfounded troops around them. The night rang with the sound of steel carving flesh. Before their victims could scream, before they even realized what was happening, they were stabbed through the throat, slashed, pierced, crushed, and exterminated.

Seeing their comrades cut down, a few returned to their senses and began to fight back. Just as the noise of the battle seemed poised to alert the rest of the encampment, a shuddering explosion split the night.

General Macrill spun as blinding light flared behind him. His eyes widened. “What in the blazes?”

A plume of fire blasted skyward. If he was not mistaken, that was where the supplies were stored. As the army’s provisions turned to ash in the blazing inferno, he knew that a true devil stood in their midst.

“What... What...is happening?” he spluttered, forgetting even to draw breath. His mind seized up as it tried and failed to process the situation, leaving him only with questions.

“With the first stroke, foil their footing. With the second stroke, knock them reeling. And with the third stroke, break their spirits.”

Stone crunched beneath uncaring boots. The clamor of clashing steel faded away before the enormity of the presence approaching him. A shiver wracked his body.

“You weren’t even a challenge.”

“Hah... Ha ha... Ha ha ha ha...”

His lungs fought to draw breath. A crushing pressure assailed him, as though his heart were being squeezed in a great fist. The mask looming over him betrayed not a scrap of emotion. The white mantle fluttered in the wind, shining with dazzling hues.

“This battle is over. The curtain will fall with your death.”

The voice dripped with contempt, but strangely, General Macrill felt no indignation. Any minuscule spark of defiance guttered out in an instant.

“Save your prattle.”

Yet despite it all, he refused to yield. He had something to protect. That gave him the strength to draw his sword.

The masked man’s blade glinted dully in the firelight. A low chuckle slipped from his lips. “Very well. I acknowledge your determination.”

He made no move to defend himself. So colossal was his presence, any cut would strike him.

General Macrill steeled himself and swung with all his strength. “I dedicate this victory to Lady Luka!”

“Too slow.”

The words never reached Macrill’s ears. His head had already struck the ground. His eyes glared furiously at the sky, not even realizing that he was dead.

“I take back what I said. You weren’t a fool. You were a brave man.”

“General Macrill!” one of his aides cried. “You’ll die for this, you cur—!”

“Silence.” A furious slash sent a blast wave streaking forward, scoring a perfectly straight line into the earth. “Struggle all you like; it won’t help.”

The masked man strode forward and began slaughtering the surviving members of Macrill’s command.

“Augh!”

“Fight, you fools! Fight to the last man! Avenge General Macrill!”

Crushing their resistance was child’s play. The masked man cut them down dispassionately, breaking their hopes root and stem. The flames of an overturned bonfire leaped to the tents, and the wind carried the sparks, magnifying the spread. As chaos began to set in, voices rose above the din.

“Traitors! Traitors in our midst!”

“Beware! The bastards have turned to Lebering!”

“Our supplies have burned!”

“The imperial reinforcements have arrived...”

“Flee if you value your lives!”

Scraps of information flew every which way, accelerating the chaos as the night air rang with screams. Almost all of the officers had been gathered in the command tent; now, with the masked man’s attack, nobody was left to issue orders. The chain of command had fallen apart. Nothing was more pitiful than an army with no superiors to relay orders and no leaders to direct it. Now they would descend into confusion and suspicion, and sending a few disguised enemies into their midst would ensure that they turned on yesterday’s friends without a second thought. There was nothing so dangerous as mob mentality on the battlefield. The enemy army’s expectations of a night raid would turn against them, and their soldiers would soon fall upon each other in their disorientation.

“Human hearts are frail and all too easily consumed by fear.” The masked man withdrew his black blade from a corpse.

A unit of riders cantered up to him. “This will suffice, I trust?” asked the woman at their head. “Linger any longer and our losses will become unacceptable.”

“I suppose you’re right. Let’s head back.”

“Indeed. Let us return to the fort. I eagerly await what the morning’s light will reveal.”

He took her hand and swung himself up into the saddle. The group rode away with their heads held high as shouts rang out above the Vulpes detachment’s camp. A wretched sight unfolded in their wake. More tents caught light, burning soldiers rolled across the ground, and frightened horses ran wild. With a symphony of screams that split the night, the Vulpes encampment burned to ashes.

＊＊＊＊＊

The sky stretched from horizon to horizon, with fluffy clouds drifting gracefully past. Birds soared high against the blue, wheeling between plumes of smoke as they descended in pursuit of the smell of charred meat. The battlefield was still warm, dotted with smoldering corpses and swords plunged into the earth. One wanted to avert their eyes from the grisly sight. Even from a distant vantage point, the reek of death was strong.

Hiro tore his gaze away from the burned-out encampment and turned to the woman at his side. Claudia stood with her hands on the battlements, gazing out at the battlefield. Her face betrayed no emotion.

“I suppose I should say, ‘There but for the grace of heaven go we’?”

“Maybe. But if we’d shown any mercy, that would have been us today.”

Hiro returned his attention to the pitiful sight that was the Vulpes task force’s encampment. No survivors were left, only monsters come to feast on the bodies, wild dogs fighting over viscera, and carrion birds hoping to snatch the scraps. The earth had drunk deep of lifeblood the previous night, and the perhaps ten thousand men who had escaped the slaughter had chosen to flee in disgrace. Now, only corpses remained.

“Consider me impressed,” Claudia said. “My subordinates will have no choice but to acknowledge you now.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he answered. “With what’s coming, we’ll need to be on good terms.”

“What now?”

“Six Kingdoms’ forces are still causing chaos across the empire. I’d like to thin their numbers before we join up with the imperial army.”

Claudia wasted no time beating about the bush. “Only six hundred men remain in this fort, I must remind you. Two thousand six hundred, including our reserves. I would prefer to avoid any further losses.”

Hiro smiled wryly. “I know. In that case, I’ll just give them the runaround while we wait for the empire.”

“If this is to be believed, they ought to arrive in a few days’ time.” Claudia held out a letter. The envelope bore the seal of the sixth princess.

“So Liz is coming at last...” Hiro touched his mask as though adjusting its position. “I suppose I’ll have to change my name.”

He was hardly honor-bound to tell the truth and reveal his identity. Until his plans came to fruition, he would have to play the part of a false Lord. The time had come to cast aside his new name and reassume his old one.

“Would you call me Surtr from now on?”

Claudia shivered as a thrill ran through her body. She turned to look at him, her face radiating equal parts admiration and ambition. Her lips formed a smile as though she could not contain her delight.

“As you wish, my lord. Our dear, sweet monarch.” A wicked light burned in her eyes as she lowered her head in a retainer’s bow. “All will be as you will it.”

Once, there had been a lord of deepest black, unrivaled in his or any age. More resplendent than the sun in his carnage, as divine as any deity. More resplendent than the moon in his compassion, as dazzling as any demon.

The devourer of all the world’s darkness, an all-consuming midnight sun.

Surtr, the Black-Winged Lord.