Shinwa Densetsu no Eiyuu no Isekaitan - Volume 7 - Chapter 4.1

Chapter 4: Those Who Cling to Hope

The seventeenth day of the third month of Imperial Year 1024

The army departed Beyrouth, its path illuminated by the rays of the sun. The serpent of Anguis fluttered on its banners. Thirty thousand strong, the host made for Faerzen along the western road, with the commander’s carriage trundling along near the middle of the pack. Lucia sat inside, staring out of the window with a disgruntled expression. Her vice-commander, Seleucus, was opposite, as pointedly unruffled as ever.

“You seem in poor spirits, Your Majesty,” he said.

“Why shouldn’t I be? I never knew we had so many fools among us.”

It was patently obvious that there were no more victories to be won in the western territories, and yet the majority of the army had thrown in their lot with Luka. Human greed had worked against her this time. Buoyed up by their defeat of Mars’s descendant and thinking of little else, a great number of officers had grown willfully blind and misjudged their own capabilities.

“It’s to be expected, perhaps, looking purely at our record.”

Lucia snorted. “I pity whatever poor souls must serve under those imbeciles.”

When word had arrived that the Grantzian Empire’s final tally came to one hundred and thirty thousand men, the other kingdoms’ officers had rejoiced to hear that they had the superior numbers. They had overestimated themselves, blind to the truth that they had just lost forty thousand men to a much smaller force. As far as Lucia was concerned, her outrage was well justified. It seemed she was the only one who understood the situation.

“Truly, the War God is worth a hundred thousand men,” she sighed sourly.

“‘Unrivaled on earth with one thousand, unrivaled in heaven with ten, the War God’s machinations rule the world entire,’ I believe the words go. One cannot blame them for letting it go to their heads.”

Lucia sniffed. “Quite the memory you have.”

After defeating the descendant of such a prolific legend, the Six Kingdoms officers had convinced themselves that the imperial forces would be no obstacle. Knowing the truth of his escape, however, Lucia saw the parade of fools for what it was.

“If only Luka were still in her right mind,” she sighed. “We could have retreated without incident.”

She had anticipated that Luka would be shattered by Igel’s death, but the results had proven far worse than expected—in more than one sense. Her original plan to insert herself in Igel’s place and manipulate Luka into doing her bidding was out of the question now.

“Nothing ever goes as planned, it seems...”

“That is only to be expected,” Seleucus replied. “It is the Grantzian Empire we face, after all.” He was right; winning a string of victories against the longtime conqueror of Soleil would inflate anyone’s ego. “Besides, the heirs to the throne are dropping like flies. The empire is weakening. Everybody can sense it.”

“It has lost but four royals. We are not at so great an advantage as you might think.”

The central and western territories might have collapsed, but the rest still stood firm. They must, otherwise the empire would not have been able to assemble so many troops. It was clear as day that the war was poised to drag out. The empire had held against Six Kingdoms’ strongest blow; at that point, it would have been best to withdraw and let it rot. A common enemy held it together for now, but deep down, each of its factions schemed to undermine the others. The passage of time would have seen it collapse without any need for foolhardy assaults.

“We have mistaken the turning point, ’tis true...”

If Six Kingdoms committed to its offensive any further, it would no longer be able to withdraw. The wise move would have been to withdraw to Faerzen and regroup. Once the empire again turned inward and became embroiled in power struggles, it would have been all too easy to find willing collaborators. Human greed was bottomless, and it always presented opportunities. They should have watched and waited. That had been the surest path to victory.

“No empire was built in a day. All must follow the proper order. There were many paths we might have taken.”

If their preparations proved insufficient, they could return to the drawing board and think of something else. Dwelling on might-have-beens would not help her kingdom prosper. If anything, it would drive it to ruin.

“Fritter away our soldiers’ lives now and all will be for naught.”

“Then what of Vendetta, Your Majesty? I confess, I fail to see the need to give them to Lady Luka.”

Lucia snorted. “Would you hold a rabid dog by the leash? They were never long for my command.”

Against the empire, the unit of bloodthirsty avengers were a force to be reckoned with, but in battle against the other kingdoms, their indiscriminate madness was a factor that could not be ignored.

“Perhaps it would have been prudent to dispose of them earlier,” Seleucus conceded, “but might they not have been useful in future battles?”

“So long as their madness lasts. But after it is stripped from them, they will be useless even as beasts.”

Seleucus cocked his head in confusion. “‘Stripped from them,’ Your Majesty?”

“Never mind. ’Twould be too bothersome to explain.” Lucia returned to looking out of the window. “I shall set my sights on the next battle. Naught remains for me in the empire.”

“Do you mean Faerzen, Your Majesty?”

“Indeed. Now that I have slain the War God’s scion, I shall stake my claim while the other kingdoms are fixated on the empire.”

“I only hope she does not interfere.”

“Nameless? Fear not. She is far too preoccupied with training her new pet. I do not expect she shall emerge until she is done.” Lucia pressed her iron fan smugly to her forehead. Her expression abruptly changed. “Hm?”

Shouts issued from outside, and the carriage ground to a halt.

“What now?”

This was no squabble between soldiers. The voices were too panicked for that, but there were so many that they blended together, making it difficult to determine any details.

“I will see what is happening, Your Majesty.”

Seleucus made to stand up, but Lucia stopped him with a hand. She strained her ears and listened harder.

“We’re under attack! We’re under attack!” came a distant cry. “They’re on the right flank!”

“Oho?” Despite the emergency, Lucia’s eyes narrowed with fascination. The first thought that crossed her mind was from whom the attack might come. The second was the possibility of bandits or monsters, but she dismissed that with a shake of her head.

“Your Majesty, we ought...to...”

Seleucus slumped against the wall, out cold. Lucia did not so much as blink as she looked to his side.

“My, my. What remarkable composure.”

The mirthful voice sounded out of place in the rapidly cooling air. Next to the unconscious Seleucus sat a hooded figure.

“Nameless. How long has it been?”

The mouth beneath the hood curled into an uncomfortably wide smile. “Too long indeed. How have you been keeping?”

“’Tis rather rude to barge into another woman’s carriage. How long have you been there?”

“Why, from the start, of course.”

Lucia moved to stand, but a staff appeared from nowhere to push her back into her seat.

“No moving, if you please. I’m quite aware that your Mandala has me at a disadvantage.”

Lucia settled back down, gesturing to the staff with her fan as it hovered in front of her chin. “What is this about, Nameless? Do you mean to bare steel against Anguis?”

“Oh, my. Nothing so forward. No, I have a deal in mind. I wish to trade for Fourth Prince Hiro’s remains.”

Lucia arched an eyebrow. “A deal?”

“Surely you can guess. Orcus, my dear. They will do almost anything for the corpse. We go back quite a way, and they have been awfully accommodating to me in the past, so I could hardly turn them down. Quite the dilemma, don’t you think?”

“If the High King were to learn of your ties to those cutthroats, your head would—”

Nameless silenced her with an accusing finger. “I assure you, we both stand to gain.” She raised the finger and waggled it. “In exchange, I will tell no one that you let your prey escape.”

“Oho.” Lucia’s eyes narrowed angrily. The fingers curled around her fan began to tremble with rage.

Nameless’s shoulders shook with a mirthful chuckle. “Is it truly so strange that I would know?” Her amusement only grew as Lucia remained silent. “It is no bluff, I assure you. I have had my eye on you from the start—although, knowing the gulf between your strength and his, I could have seen the truth blind.”

Lucia bristled, sensing that she was being mocked. She began to seethe with murderous fury. The temperature in the carriage plummeted, a barrel of gunpowder waiting for a spark.

“And in exchange, I would allow you to steal the fourth prince’s remains?”

“Not a bad deal, don’t you think? Just consider—if anyone thinks to inspect them, your deception will come to light. Would it not be convenient to have an explanation for their absence? Besides, you still have the real arm, do you not? Presenting that to the High King will only strengthen your position.”

“And why would you aid my lie when you know the truth?”

“Once our present arrangement concludes, I will have no more need of Orcus. I will supply them with a false body, receive what I want in return, and then we will part ways. I see no reason for them to know the truth, do you?”

“Orcus will not look kindly upon your reneging on a deal. Have you a death wish?”

Nameless giggled. “You will be disappointed to learn that I have no such desire. But no, I do not fear assassins. My new guard dog will protect me well enough.”

The mocking voice grated on Lucia’s nerves like sandpaper. She had half a mind to cut Nameless’s head off there and then, but in a confined space with blades pointed at one another’s hearts, she would not escape unscathed herself. As galling as it was, she gritted her teeth and bit back her outrage.

“What is it that you want? Is leverage your game? Do you hope to keep me from the throne?”

“I act only as our Lord wills. Fear not, I have no interest in a throne as paltry as the High King’s.” As suddenly as she had appeared, Nameless melted into thin air and vanished.

Lucia was far less surprised than she was furious. She broke into cold laughter. “The High King’s throne, ‘paltry’?”

She had sacrificed much in pursuit of that throne, climbing high on the backs of others. To be told that it was insignificant was not an insult to be taken lightly.

“I shall get the better of you yet. Someday, you shall eat those words, spoon and all.”

As she reaffirmed her resolve, someone appeared outside the window. She bristled.

“Your Majesty!” came a cry. “The carriage carrying Fourth Prince Hiro’s remains has been attacked!”

She relaxed. It was an ally. “And?”

“The body has been taken! We must dispatch a unit to pursue—”

“Enough. Let it be.”

“Your Majesty?”

“I have no wish to send my men to their deaths.”

If Orcus truly was responsible, ordinary cavalry would stand no chance. Even if they did give chase, the chance of recovering the body would be vanishingly small, and if Nameless was among the enemy, they would only be wasting men. Orcus interested her, now that they had begun to move in earnest, but Nameless’s objectives did too. Still, her games were only one concern among many more...

“A mountain of troubles indeed. Naught to do but squash them one by one.”

＊＊＊＊＊

The eighteenth day of the third month of Imperial Year 1024

Maruk, in the west of the central territories

The one-hundred-and-thirty-thousand-strong imperial army, led by Liz, had made camp on the westward road. In the center of the encampment, a cluster of lion banners indicated where an enormous command tent had been erected. A variety of extravagant tents crowded around it, vying with one another for visibility.

Liz had stopped here because Six Kingdoms had recalled its full strength and entrenched itself on the Laryx Plains. The grasslands were the site of Hiro’s rumored execution and the remnants of battle lingered still, the ground strewn with uncollected corpses. By odd coincidence, the imperial camp was located on the very same spot where Hiro had set up base before his fateful battle, and Liz and Aura almost felt as though they were tracing his footsteps as they walked between the tents.

“I hear our scouts are back from the Laryx Plains,” Liz said.

She saw a soldier bow politely and noticed the anxious look on his face. Coming face-to-face with Liz probably accounted for some of the man’s nervousness, but the looming battle no doubt played a greater part.

Liz returned the bow and looked around. The nearby troops wore similarly tense looks as they attended to their duties. The camp was in a state of stress. It didn’t seem to be weighing on their spirits, however; if anything, it represented a healthy level of vigilance. No matter what unexpected events arose, they would be ready for anything.

Liz returned her attention to Aura and her report.

“Their numbers are down,” Aura said. “From one hundred and sixty thousand to one hundred thousand.”

Lucia du Anguis’s retreat had played a part, but the battle with Hiro seemed to have cost them dearly in manpower, as had local resistance to their pillaging. That said, the latter activities had boosted their morale and filled their food stores to bursting.

“But they’re losing cohesion,” Aura continued. “It sounds like they can’t control their army. They aren’t just taking, they’re killing compliant civilians.”

Liz frowned. The report described one-sided massacres, and the lands of the western nobles who had sided with Six Kingdoms had not been exempt. When they spoke out against the atrocities, their towns were razed to the ground.

“Six Kingdoms is ruthless. The nobles who took their side have all been executed. It looks like they’ve decided to destroy the empire entirely.”

The western nobles had probably believed that they had saved their hides by turning traitor, that Six Kingdoms would have no reason to harm them. How wrong they had been. The moment they opened their gates and let their new allies in, the slaughter began.

“It looks like some managed to drive them off, however.”

Six Kingdoms’ attempts had been met with failure as well as success, which had driven their numbers down to one hundred thousand. Still, the report was not all good news. Countless people had died. When Liz’s thoughts turned to those who were suffering even now, her chest felt like it would burst with sadness.

“Times are going to be tough for the west,” Aura said solemnly. “For a long time.”

Liz gave a small nod as she squeezed her hand over her chest. Even after the fighting was done, the misery would continue. There would be homeless refugees, marauding bandits, wandering monsters. How much easier it would be if she could tell herself that was merely the cost of war.

“First, we have to win this battle. Then we can think about the rest.” Liz laid a consoling hand on Aura’s head. “It’ll be all right. I’ll make the west beautiful again, I promise.”

She put on the brightest voice she could. Between the grim reality and the weight of her responsibility, her smile came out stiff, but Aura nodded anyway. Considering the great many trials that were in Liz’s future, it was hard to blame her.

“I’ll do it with you,” Aura said. She clenched her fist and looked up at the sky. A pure and beautiful devotion shone in her eyes, one that would fight to overcome any hardship.

“Your father’s in the west, isn’t he?” Liz paused for a moment, then continued hesitantly. “Is he safe?”

Aura nodded and pulled out a letter. “There was a siege, but they held.” She went into more detail. Hiro had written to her father in advance. Accordingly, he had chosen to ignore the enemy’s provocations and managed to survive.

Liz stopped short of expressing relief. To do so would be an insult to those who had lost their lives in the fighting. Some had died for their country, some for their families, some to save their friends. In times of turmoil, national stability came at a human cost. To suggest that life only had meaning to the living was arrogance, nothing more; nobody fell victim to war because they wanted to die.

“He must be a clever man if he raised you. We’ll have to put him to good use.”

Aura nodded. “Work him like a carthorse.”

Liz giggled. “All right, we should get to the strategy meeting. We shouldn’t keep everyone waiting.”

“Why not? Let them wait.” Aura’s face turned surly. She didn’t even try to hide her displeasure.

Liz smiled awkwardly. She understood Aura’s reservations perfectly well. House Muzuk of the south was being belligerent in trying to assert control. Rosa would have kept them in check, but Beto’s plot had prevented her from joining the march, and the eastern nobles were easily cowed without her to lead them.

“If only my sister was around,” Liz sighed.

“Two of the great houses have collapsed,” Aura said. “House Muzuk wants their territory.”

Her reservations were well-placed, but Liz looked at her reassuringly. “I won’t let Beto have his way.”

The war with Six Kingdoms was changing the balance of power among the five great houses. House Maruk had risen to take charge of the central nobles in place of the collapsed House Krone, but now that its leader had died in battle, its support was dwindling. It had also lost a great many backers in the purges following Stovell’s rebellion.

House Münster of the west was in a similar position. After Third Prince Brutahl’s death, many of the western nobles had thrown in their lot with Six Kingdoms, which had proven a poisoned chalice. That left House Scharm of the north, whose head was a puppet of Second Prince Selene and rarely emerged onto the political stage. It seemed to have no ambitions outside of the north, which had failed to win much support from its nobility.

The result was that House Muzuk was the most authoritative great house taking part in the campaign, and Beto was already putting pieces in place to expand his influence. Strategy meetings had a tendency to center around House Muzuk’s proposals.

“This is my fault. If I had done better...”

It was rare to see Aura question herself. Liz tried to think of something that would allay her doubts. But at that moment...

“What?” Liz’s hand went instantly to Lævateinn’s hilt.

“Hm?” Aura spun to face the same direction. She had noticed it as well. From the distance came the sound of raised voices, shouts with an edge of panic.

“Are the soldiers fighting? We’d better take a look.”

They hurried toward the source of the noise. Soldiers were always nervous on the eve of battle, and squabbles were apt to break out over the smallest things. In an effort to prevent discord, Liz had ordered the officers to give their men drink and try to put them at ease, but things rarely went so easily with fighting men.

“Clear the way! What is going on here?!”

Liz’s voice rang out loud and clear over the din. The soldiers froze as they recognized their commander and stepped aside. Soon the way was clear, but nobody offered any explanations.

The soldiers parted around her like water as she pressed forward to see what was causing the disturbance. At last, she came to a patch of open ground and gasped. A great beast was lying in a pool of blood, covered in wounds. All around it were soldiers, hurriedly tending to it.

“We need more bandages!” one man cried as he tried to staunch the blood with a cloth. “Blast it, where are the medics? Who called for them?!”

“I’ll get some!” another responded. “Hey! You! The last man’s gone walkabout! Go and fetch a medic!”

Another soldier rushed past Liz, so harried that he didn’t even notice she was there. She approached in a daze and crouched beside the great beast.

“Well done,” she whispered. “You made it back.” Its hide was slick to the touch. Warm blood coated her hands.

A nearby soldier rounded on her furiously. “Hey! You! What do you think you’re—” His eyes went wide as he realized who he was addressing. “Pardon me, Your Highness! I said nothing!” He averted his gaze and went silently back to work.

“It must have been hard.” Tears welled up as she took in the arrows protruding from its hard scales, and she hastily fought them back. A commander could not cry in front of her soldiers. Through her bleary vision, she saw Aura crouch by the beast’s side and dab at an arrow wound with a piece of cloth.

“It’s his, isn’t it?” Aura asked.

“That’s right. His swiftdrake. Just look at the state she’s in...”

Swiftdrakes were temperamental beasts known for being distrustful of humans, so Liz was astonished when this one had taken so easily to Hiro. While the swiftdrake had never let Liz ride on her back, she had been affectionate enough. To see her now, limp and lifeless, there was almost nothing left of the beast that had so frequently run around Berg Fortress with Cerberus.

“My medical training was for men, not beasts! Do I look like I treat swiftdrakes for a living? You ask me to do the impossible!”

“It’s Lord Hiro’s steed! We can’t just leave it to die! Please, you have to do something!”

The medic was approaching.

“I’ll do my best,” Liz whispered as she got to her feet. She couldn’t stay by the beast’s side with the strategy meeting at hand. There was work to be done. If she dragged her feet now, everything she had fought for would go to waste. “Aura?”

Aura froze, her hand on the swiftdrake’s saddle.

“Is something wrong?” Liz made to lay a hand on her shoulder, but Aura shot to her feet. Liz blinked. It was rare to see her move so quickly.

“Let’s go.” Flustered, Aura struggled to maintain her usual composure. “The meeting’s about to start.”

Liz cocked her head, but before she could ask any questions, the petite girl turned around and began walking away.

“Hey! Wait! What’s going on?”

“Swiftdrakes are resilient. It’ll heal in no time. Don’t let yourself get distracted. You need to focus on defeating Six Kingdoms.”

With an unusually verbose speech, Aura stalked away. Bewildered by her response, Liz didn’t notice the letter that vanished up her sleeve.

＊＊＊＊＊

A figure looked on from a distance as the pair departed. Had she not been so distracted, Liz might have taken note of him, or at least his strange garb. He was dressed in white from head to toe, with a mask that covered his face. He turned away from the two figures and approached the soldiers who were tending to the swiftdrake.

“Would you let me through?”

His simple act of speech was enough to make the air grow heavy. The pressure grew until the soldiers could do nothing but yield the way. Their faces tightened as he passed, terrified—or perhaps awed—by his dreadful presence. Nobody thought to ask him his name; they were too stunned to speak. And as nobody dared to stop him, he soon made his way to the swiftdrake.

“Thank goodness,” he said, kneeling. “I’m truly glad you’re safe.” His shoulders shook as he stroked her head.

“Hey! Hey, don’t touch it! You’ll open its wounds—” The medic steeled himself enough to speak, only to fall silent again at the sight before him. His eyes widened. “It can’t be...”

A faint light engulfed the swiftdrake. Slowly but surely, its wounds began to heal. It was a sublime mystery, a defiance of common sense, a miracle brought to heel. The soldiers looked on from a distance, as astounded as the medic by the mysterious power.

The masked man didn’t even spare them a glance. “Better?” he whispered. Seeing that the swiftdrake’s saddle had been unclasped, he rose to his feet. “Would you leave her in my care?”

“I-I’m sorry, but we can’t,” the medic stammered. “The beast is Fourth Prince Hiro’s steed—”

The masked man grasped the medic’s shoulder with his left hand and splayed his right hand in front of the man’s face. “I’m afraid I can’t take no for an answer.”

Golden light poured forth from within the mask. The soldiers reached for their swords, sensing something amiss. Suddenly, the masked man looked up at the sky in exasperation. A long pole fell from the heavens to drive deep into the earth, gouging out a large crater.

“How very unlike you. No matter your delight at finding the beast safe, that is no excuse for indulging in needless conflict.” A female voice, oddly bright, cut through the tension as a plume of dust rose skyward. The crowd of soldiers parted to reveal an amethyst-haired woman.

“She’s my kin, Claudia. I have a duty to keep her safe.”

“Indeed. Which is why I took the liberty of providing you with evidence to support your case.”

“So that’s what that was.”

“Whatever did you think it was?”

“An opening salvo.”

The soldiers froze in astonishment as the pair began to bicker. Not because of them—it was the pole driven into the ground that captured their attention. It unfurled, revealing itself to be a battle standard: a set of scales on a white field, the livery of Soleil’s smallest nation, with influence to match the greatest. Nobody alive had seen the flag fly before. The kingdom had always maintained a neutral position, cultivating a culture that withdrew from worldly concerns, staunchly refusing to take any kind of place on the political stage. To see it in the flesh would leave anybody lost for words.

“My. You all look terribly surprised.” Seeing the soldiers’ stares, the woman named Claudia brought a hand to her mouth and giggled. “Allow me to introduce you...”

＊＊＊＊＊

Meanwhile, in the imperial command tent, a strategy meeting was poised to commence. The atmosphere was hardly jovial, but neither was it stifling—the appropriate gravity for the proceedings. The nobles looked at the woman at the head of the table with expectant eyes.

The voice of the presiding noble broke the silence. “Her Majesty Queen Claudia of Lebering has reportedly arrived on the field.”

The air in the tent tangibly changed. Claudia’s name had reached the imperial encampment well in advance of her coming. Through the western refugees, word had trickled down of her rescuing fleeing civilians from bandits, liberating towns besieged by Six Kingdoms, and even a thrilling episode where she drove back a twenty-thousand-strong army with a meager thousand men. Someday bards would sing of her deeds, and starry-eyed commonfolk would listen in taverns as they supped ale and watched dancing girls.

“Please convey my gratitude,” Liz said. “If not for her, the west would be in a far worse state.”

Claudia’s deeds merited more than words, of course, but tangible gestures would have to wait until more peaceful days. Until then, it was Liz’s duty as the commander of the imperial army to offer what she could.

“No doubt she will be pleased to hear that,” a noble remarked. “It’s heartening to know our neighbor will ride to our aid in a crisis.”

“True. Although I hear that Lebering’s army has suffered heavy losses.”

Saving the commonfolk had come at a cost. Many soldiers of Lebering had died in the fighting. Liz would have to bear in mind compensation for their families when the time came to issue rewards.

“As far as I’m concerned, I welcome them to our camp with open arms.”

Nobody objected to that. No matter the nobles’ true opinions of Claudia, she had been first on the scene and rescued a great many commonfolk. Gratitude was one thing, but voicing complaints or jealousy was out of the question.

“Anyway, we should get started.” The tent audibly quieted. Liz cast a satisfied glance around the table before turning to the presiding noble. “Could you start by reviewing how things stand?”

“Of course, Your Highness.” The man placed a pawn on the map laid out on the table. “We are presently encamped here, in the province of Maruk, appropriating supplies from the local nobles in advance of the decisive battle. We have dispatched reconnaissance units across a wide area to watch Six Kingdoms’ movements. It appears they are currently encamped on the Laryx Plains.”

Liz checked the information against the report in her hand and then looked up at the head of House Muzuk. “Lord Beto, I believe I left you in charge of reconnaissance. Could you tell us more?”

“As you command, Your Highness.” Beto stood up and issued a bow, radiating smug confidence. “As my esteemed friend has explained, Six Kingdoms has taken up position on the Laryx Plains. Our scouts put their numbers at one hundred thousand men—quite the decline from their original tally, as you have no doubt noticed, but I believe the odds that more troops are lying in ambush are slim. In light of the news of a disagreement between their commanders, one hundred thousand seems a believable figure to me.”

“I heard about that as well. Do you know how it has affected their forces? Has it lowered their morale? Affected their will to fight?”

“Their pillaging has kept morale high, and they appear just as thirsty for battle as ever.” Beto’s tone conveyed well enough that the enemy was formidable, but there was something else in his face—a flicker of reservation, as if he was mulling over whether to speak. Clearly, there was something more.

“Is something the matter, Lord Beto?”

“It’s nothing, Your Highness. Only...” He trailed off as his words died in his throat.

Liz’s voice grew steely. “If it may affect our performance in battle, I want to hear it. No matter how good or bad it may be.”

Beto drew a deep breath and looked back at his report. “It appears they are calling Fourth Prince Hiro ‘the Fallen Hero’ beneath his own black dragon. Our reports indicate that they have forced captured refugees to tread on his sacred standard before cutting off their heads.”

The nobles froze, so still that they forgot to breathe. So appalling was the news that it silenced their thoughts. The War God’s black dragon standard was sacred in the empire, even to those who opposed Hiro. Any soul born and raised on imperial soil regarded Mars of the Twelve Divines as a true deity. Directing imperial citizens to soil his banner with their boots was inconceivably monstrous.

It was not anger that colored the nobles’ faces, however, but alarm. They looked pointedly at their feet, limbs stiff and sweat pouring from their foreheads. A fearsome torrent of fury had filled the enclosed space.

A sound broke the silence—the unsettling crunch of something breaking. The nobles flinched. Praying that the anger would not turn their way, they looked toward the source of the noise: the crimson-haired girl at the head of the table.

Liz said nothing, but a trickle of blood ran from the corner of her mouth. She looked ready to draw her sword and charge straight into the enemy encampment, and only her fists, balled against the table, seemed to be holding her back. Her eyes were wide open and fixed on Beto, who frantically wiped cold sweat from his forehead with a cloth. Being the focus of her wrath had chilled him to the bone, even though he was not at fault. He had carved his way through fields of carnage and spun many devious plots, but even he had to break eye contact and look away.

“So that’s how they’re keeping their morale high. With acts of cowardice.”

The ploy was not honorable, but it was clever. Many of those who revered the War God would grow just as angry as Liz. Those around her, however, only grew alarmed and began to sweat. They had not thought she was capable of such violent rage. Her ordinary, mellow disposition had been a rarity in the imperial family, and many of the nobles had believed that she was more of a kitten than a lion. Now, as they watched her fury grow so intense that it seemed to warp the space around her, they learned better. Even lion cubs someday learned to roar.

“We resume our march the day after tomorrow,” she said, her voice low and dreadfully cold. “Keep our reconnaissance patrols up until we depart. We’ll annihilate the enemy on the Laryx Plains.”

Her audience could only nod. The water’s surface had been disturbed, but beneath it lay a deep and boundless sea.

Time dragged on, with nobody willing to speak a word. Silence fell over the tent. With the presiding noble having grown too fearful to speak or forgotten his role entirely, the meeting ground to a halt. The rest of the attendees looked at him, but to no avail.

It was the silver-haired girl standing behind Liz’s chair who finally broke the awkward silence. She rifled through her sleeves for something and then, with no show of hesitation, approached the princess.

“Lady Celia Estrella.”

She held out a white cloth, gesturing to the blood trickling from Liz’s mouth.

“Oh, right. Thank you.” Finally noticing that she was bleeding, Liz frowned and dabbed the cloth to her mouth. The nobles breathed a sigh of relief as the dangerous aura emanating from her subsided.

At that moment, a loud noise erupted outside the tent.

“Please, Your Majesty, a moment! The strategy meeting is in session!”

“Is it now? Well, surely you would not keep me from taking part. I will be fighting alongside you, after all.”

“Please at least wait until I get permission! I will only be a moment!”

“We hardly have the time for that, don’t you agree?”

A beautiful woman cut through the clamor and strode into the silence within. Her violet eyes gleamed bewitchingly, and a sultry smile hovered on her lips. “I am Queen Claudia van Lebering,” she said, taking a graceful bow. “May our alliance be a fruitful one, nobles of the Grantzian Empire.”

Several nobles rose to their feet, most fearing that Claudia’s insolence would anger Liz after her earlier outburst, although a few were simply outraged.

“The ruler of a northern wasteland interrupting our strategy meeting? Outrageous, I tell you!”

“Begone with you. Your contributions to the war effort have not earned you the right to be so disrespectful.”

“Silence,” Liz snapped.

The nobles’ mouths clamped shut. She rose from her seat and offered Claudia a bow. A hush filled the tent—the leaders of empires were not supposed to bow to the rulers of their smaller neighbors.

“Please forgive my subordinates’ rudeness. We are grateful for your assistance.” She raised her head and gave a dainty smile. “I am Celia Estrella Elizabeth von Grantz.”

Claudia was taken aback. She seemed to have been anticipating a haughty reply that she could meet with defiance, so Liz’s meek response threw her for a loop. Still, she had won her throne with cunning and guile; she was used to thinking on her feet. She fell to one knee in a vassal’s bow.

“And please forgive my unseemly conduct.” She apologized with full grace, lowering her eyes as though ashamed of her own childishness. “May the bond of friendship between our nations grow long and fruitful.”

“Indeed. Let’s start with a clean slate, shall we?” Liz gestured for Claudia to sit.

At that moment, she caught sight of the figure behind the queen of Lebering and found herself lost for words. He was a man of strange countenance, wearing a mask that rendered his expression unreadable. His pure white garb suggested purity and nobility, but the black blade at his hip was something altogether more malevolent. Light and dark, in perfect balance—a queer appearance that left Liz speechless and the nobles slack-jawed.

“Who is that?” Liz’s eyes narrowed searchingly.

Claudia smiled. “This is the second king of Baum, His Majesty King Surtr, the Black-Winged Lord.”

“It cannot be...” The exclamation of disbelief came from Beto’s throat.

The space inside the tent seemed to converge on the man. His overbearing presence transfixed all who looked at him, as though his preeminence was naturally ordained. Golden light spilled from his right eye, while his left was darker than the abyss.

“I bear a letter from the archpriestess verifying his identity.” Claudia produced a sheet of paper covered in glowing, golden letters, a form of writing known as spirit script, which only the archpriestess could produce. “He despairs at the fate of his old ally, the Lionheart’s nation, and has ridden forth to provide what aid he can.”

“There is a king in Baum?” Beto sounded distrustful. “I have heard of no such thing.”

Claudia’s expression did not falter. If anything, she smirked. “The truth is the truth, whether or not you have heard it.”

She handed him the archpriestess’s letter. Such an article could not have been counterfeited. Spirit script was a holy form of writing that only those beloved by the spirits could employ. Beto still looked skeptical, but he concluded his inspection with a disappointed shrug, no longer able to deny its authenticity.

“It’s spirit script, true enough. Written by Her Grace the Archpriestess’s hand...” With his will to argue drained away, he slumped back into his seat.

Throughout the interaction, Liz had not moved her eyes one inch from the masked man. At the beginning, her gaze had been suspicious, but over time, it had filled with reproach.

“I suppose he owes his black hair to the blood of the first king of Baum?” Even as she addressed Claudia, Liz’s gaze remained almost obsessively trained on the masked man.

Claudia took a half-step in front of the man, breaking her line of sight, and nodded. “Indeed, Your Highness. You are as well-read as they say.”

Liz laughed. “Very well. If you say so.” She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, smiling softly with her eyes half-closed.

“Do you mind if we join the proceedings?” Claudia asked.

Liz gave her a nod. “Of course. I’m sure there’s a lot you could tell us about Six Kingdoms’ movements, and I’d like to hear Lord Surtr’s opinion as well. We’d welcome your attendance.”

“Then we shall humbly oblige.”

Sparks showered between the two women as they glared at one another. Aura, watching from a distance, let out a small sigh and shut her eyes.