The sun was slipping below the horizon, dying the sky amber. Distant embers smoldered on the peaks of the Grausam Mountains. The imperial capital’s usual hustle and bustle was beginning to thin.
The palace of Venezyne kept vigil over the comings and goings of the people below, as it had done for one thousand years. In its eastern quarter, where the nobility resided, one mansion stood out: that of House Kelheit of the five great houses.
“It’s certainly grown quiet,” Rosa mused. She looked around her bedchamber and smiled ruefully to herself. The room seemed terribly large now. Until recently, the mansion had been a lively place—Liz chasing after Hiro, Scáthach watching wryly from a distance, Aura shutting them out as she read her book. Down in the courtyard outside the window, there would be the zlosta and his loyal young lieutenant, or perhaps the sellsword girl who followed her around, determined to protect her mistress’s life with her own. It had been fun and full, a delightful chaos that she would never forget.
“I knew it couldn’t last forever, but still, a part of me dared to hope.”
With a small, forlorn sigh, she leaned back into her chair and stared up at the ceiling. Cerberus snuffled at her feet.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be with your mistress?” she asked.
Cerberus cocked her head and yawned, but that was all. She seemed much more placid nowadays than when she had first arrived in the capital, if not completely domesticated. No doubt the servants had indulged her too much.
White wolves were native to the islands to the east, where the beastfolk who lived there had a tradition of keeping them as pets. Indeed, they were considered holy creatures that only beastfolk of royal blood were permitted to own. How Cerberus came to be in Soleil, Rosa could only guess, but she had certainly been astonished when Liz had walked in with the beast in her arms.
She smiled wistfully at the memory as she petted Cerberus’s belly. “We women ought to take better care of our appearance, you know.”
The proud white wolf had put on weight in recent days. Best take her on a hunt soon or she would cease to be worthy of the name.
“I’ll take you hunting when I find a spare moment, shall I? I used to take Liz all the time.”
All of a sudden, there came a noise from the door. It was too weighty to be a knock, and was accompanied by an unusual clatter besides. Rosa’s eyes turned steely. She reached to her side and picked up Lionheart.
“Is something wrong?” she called.
She had heightened the mansion’s security following Liz’s departure. Two stout men should have been keeping watch outside the door, but no reply came.
She heaved a deep sigh and steadied her breathing. A glance outside the window showed that the sun had set, and the curtain of night had fallen over the world. As the moonlight bathed the room in its silvery glow, Cerberus crouched low and growled.
“So they’ve come.”
She had expected as much, but she had hoped to be proven wrong.
“Good grief. If I really was with child, I wouldn’t dare be so reckless as to stay in the capital.”
It would have been beyond foolish to remain in the palace, especially with its defenses depleted by the war effort. She would have returned to House Kelheit’s seat in Baldickgarten and turned the place into a fortress.
“Now, let’s see which nobles have sent their cutthroats.”
The news that she was pregnant with Hiro’s child had spread like wildfire, and one of the more negative effects of the Grantzian Empire’s thousand-year history was a tendency to place importance on lineage. A child of Mars was to be welcomed, but her political opponents would not be able to celebrate unconditionally. As the next ruler of the empire, her child would command the nation’s reverence even before they were born, which would grant their mother and other relatives a great deal of power. Odds were high that somebody would try to kill her before she could wield it. That was why she had tightened security.
“I’m surprised they got this far. I put some of my best men between here and the entrance.” Rosa had some martial skill, but only to the point of holding her own against an ordinary soldier. “They must be more skilled than I thought...”
The door gently creaked open. An ominous figure stepped into the room, clad all in black.
“Just one of you?”
He was no novice. That much was clear from the way he moved—and besides, a novice would not have been able to get this far. Rosa clutched the hilt of Lionheart and stood firm, summoning every ounce of dignity she possessed.
“I regret to inform you that I’m well prepared for uninvited guests. Please enjoy House Kelheit’s hospitality.”
She flashed a dauntless grin and snapped her fingers. Soldiers rushed into the bedchamber with swords drawn—from the corridor, from hiding places, from the door to the neighboring room.
“Seize him!” she cried. “Make him tell us who sent him.”
With a roar, the soldiers surged toward the assassin. Beneath his cowl, his mouth curved into an unsettling crescent grin.
“Ghah!”
Every strike brought certain death. The first soldier collapsed, pierced cleanly through the heart. The assassin pivoted on his right foot and skewered another before wrenching his weapon back out and slipping it through the seam of a third man’s helm. Brain matter sprayed. The blood had barely splattered across the floor before he laid open a fourth soldier from shoulder to hip, carving through armor like butter.
Rosa’s guards fell one after another to precise and lethal blows, quite literally cut down in the blink of an eye. They slumped to the ground before they could so much as grunt in pain. The gulf between their abilities and those of their would-be prey was almost unfair. It was a one-sided slaughter; before long, all of the soldiers lay sprawled in pools of their own blood. The assassin stood alone before Rosa. He had not moved from his spot since first entering the room.
“Curse you!”
Rosa whipped Lionheart from its sheath, but the assassin vanished in a blur.
“Urgh!”
An impact blasted through her abdomen. The oxygen burst from her lungs, but even as the strength faded from her arm, she gripped Lionheart tight and swung with all her might.
“Don’t...take me...lightly!”
“A futile effort.”
The assassin batted Lionheart aside and drove his fist into Rosa’s cheek, sending her flying. She crashed into the wall. As she toppled forward, he closed the distance and propped her upright, slamming his fist into her stomach.
“Agh!” Her face contorted in pain.
The assassin grasped her head, blocking her mouth.
“Mmmph!”
“Do you fear death?”
Her consciousness faded for a second as her head smacked against the wall, but another blow to her stomach woke her up again. He would not let her escape that easily.
“Go on. Breathe,” he growled. “I won’t kill you yet.”
Rosa opened her mouth to gasp for air. Immediately, the assassin grasped her neck and began to squeeze.
“I lied. No breathing.”
His incredible strength lifted her up so that her feet no longer touched the carpet. She beat with all her might at his forearms, but to no avail. Her feeble attempts were not enough to break free.
“Gaah!”
The moonlight spilling in through the window cast their shadows on the floor, one struggling violently. Rosa’s golden hair, disheveled as it was, shimmered defiantly as it shifted. Violence did nothing to diminish its radiance.
“Nice hair,” the assassin murmured. “Soft. Pretty.”
The pressure around her neck vanished. Suddenly, she was free. She fell to her knees, coughing and hacking, and curled up, gulping down air.
The assassin seized her by the hair. She yelped.
“You take good care of it, don’t you? Very...recognizable. It’ll make a nice gift once I strip every last strand from your head!”
“You’ll never— Agh!” Rosa grunted as the stranger slammed her face into the floor—once, then again, and again. Her awareness grew dim, but her strength of will turned against her, keeping her from the mercy of unconsciousness.
“Stubborn stuff, this. It won’t come out.”
His voice was cold. It harbored no vulgar inclinations, only a quiet loathing. He hurt her as callously as he might butcher an animal carcass, striking her face, kicking her stomach, slamming her against the floor. Throughout it all, he maintained his grip on her hair, holding on as though to say he would never let go until it came loose.
“Seems like I’ll have to take the scalp too. Sorry about the broken arm.”
He planted a foot on Rosa’s slender wrist and wrenched with all his might.
“Aaaaaagh!”
Bone crunched. Rosa’s shriek echoed through the room, but still, her torment continued. The assassin’s one-sided cruelty was far from over.
“Still not enough, hm? Then I’ll take your fingers, or perhaps your nose? No, you’ve got pretty eyes. They’ll look good plucked out and— Ngh!”
Cerberus saw her chance. She leaped on the man from behind. Black and white shadows tangled together, dancing wildly in the moonlight. Rosa forced herself up on trembling feet, spitting out blood as she rose.
“If you think a common cutthroat’s going to get the best of me...!” She picked up Lionheart, fury blazing in her eyes. “A third princess doesn’t die lightly. I might no longer be a royal heir, but I still bear the blood of von Grantz.”
She swung at her tormentor, face twisted in agony, but her blade stopped inches from striking home.
“Ah, yes. Yes, indeed. And therein lies your sin.”
The assassin pried Cerberus from his back and launched her into a wall with a vicious kick, but the white wolf was undeterred. She leaped back into the fray, fangs bared.
“Out of my way, mutt.”
He caught her muzzle, seized her by the tail and smashed her into the floor. As she lay there, struggling, he followed up with a merciless fist, and then, as if that wasn’t enough, a pulverizing heel.
“Ngh!”
His foot never made contact. It crashed instead into Rosa’s back. She had leaped over Cerberus, covering the white wolf with her own body.
“She’s family.” A fierce light burned in Rosa’s eyes as she smiled back up at her tormentor. “I won’t let scum like you lay a finger on her!”
The assassin began to tremble with rage, as though he was struggling to hold himself back. “Then die along with the child in your belly.”
He grasped her by the head and flung her into the wall. A grunt flew from her lips as her back struck the stone. She slid down, smacking heavily onto the floor. Still, she gritted her teeth and pressed her fist against the flagstones, struggling to rise despite the pain.
“Enough. You have nothing left. Give in. You will know the same agony soon enough.”
“Curse you...”
The assassin’s hand stretched toward Rosa—and froze. That was no turn of phrase. His arm gleamed in the moonlight, suddenly sheathed in a block of ice.
“Your games end here,” a voice said.
Standing in the doorway was Scáthach du Faerzen. Her turquoise hair shone like silk even in the dark of night, and a silent will burned across the delicate spun glass of her features. Her slender body was encased in weighty armor, a clean and proper exterior to house her savage anger.
“Forgive me, my lady. The others kept me preoccupied.” She stepped forward, radiating uninhibited fury.
“Curse you! Why are you here?!” For the first time, a note of emotion entered the assassin’s voice. His smug confidence was long gone. Now, he looked so shaken that it was hard not to feel sorry for him.
“What does it matter to you? You will not leave this room.” Scáthach launched herself forward, closing the distance in an instant. “If you think your death will be quick, you are dearly mistaken.”
The assassin scowled and made to leap back, trying to put some distance between them.
“None can escape Gáe Bolg’s chill.”
Both of the man’s legs froze solid, and a flourish of her spear parted his arm from his body.
“That’s better. We couldn’t have you resisting. I’ll do you the courtesy of staunching the bleeding, although there’s no accounting for necrosis.”
“Agh... Gaaaaaahhh!” The weeping stump froze over. The assassin fell to the ground, writhing in pain.
Scáthach brought her foot down on top of him, pinning him in place. “Now, speak. Who sent you?”
“Ghack!”
“If you expect clemency, you will be sorely disappointed. Brutes who resort to such foul methods will earn no mercy from me.”
As the assassin writhed, the hood covering his head fell away, and the moonlight streaming in through the window fell upon his bare face. Scáthach gasped. His features were horrifically scarred, as though he had been tortured. Two gaping pits yawned where his eyes should have been, and his forehead bore a scar where something had been gouged from his flesh. Most remarkable of all, however...
“Lilac skin...” Scáthach breathed. “You’re a zlosta?”
At that, the assassin stopped moving. An unsettling smile spread across his face. “Oh, Father, hear our prayer,” he intoned. “Curse the foolish with eternal torment. Oh, Father, hear our prayer. Bless your faithful with eternal rest.”
There was a beat of silence, and then blood erupted from his every orifice. He went limp, sprawling headfirst across the floor as the strength left his limbs. A bloodstain began to spread across the floorboards.
Scáthach’s eyes flew wide open in surprise. She hurriedly bent down to check if he was still breathing, but he was dead. “A suicide?” she murmured.
Rosa stepped closer. “I daresay you just saved my life, Scáthach. And you too, Cerberus.”
The white wolf sat down next to Scáthach and let Rosa scratch her head. Having gotten her bearings again, Scáthach turned to Rosa and lowered her head.
“Forgive me. My arrival was less than timely. I had not expected that they would be so skilled...”
Rosa shook her head. “I’m still in one piece, aren’t I? As far as I’m concerned, there is nothing to apologize for.” She grinned. “Hardly even a hair out of place. Mine’s rather sturdy, you know.” It was obvious that she was putting on a brave face. Her cheeks were pale, and her brow was drenched in sweat. “Orcus, hm?” She gazed at the assassin’s body as she petted Cerberus’s head.
“Do you know of these vagabonds?” Scáthach asked.
“Only the tales everyone knows. But they loathe the Grantzian royal family, there’s no question of that.” Rosa paused and shook her head. “No, perhaps it’s Mars they despise...”
They hated the War God’s bloodline to an irrational degree. The repeated blows to her stomach had been proof enough of that. She touched her abdomen and winced as agony lanced through her.
“That’s several ribs broken at least. At least he didn’t realize I was never with child or he would have killed me outright. That’s one silver lining, I suppose.”
No, that didn’t make sense. She never would have been targeted at all in that case, which meant the assassin’s goal must have been elsewhere.
“If this is what they do idly, I fear to think what the future holds.”
A violent noise interrupted her musing. The corridor rang with a deafening clatter of armor.
“The guards must have noticed the disturbance, my lady. Come. Your wounds need tending to.”
“You’re right, of course. We can puzzle over this later.”
＊＊＊＊＊
Soldiers flocked to the von Kelheit mansion. Bonfires were lit by the dozen, turning the night as bright as the midday sun. A handful of figures watched from the palace walls. Denser than darkness, thinner than air, they looked on impassively as the scene unfolded.
“The mission has failed,” said one, his voice half snatched away on the night wind. “To think that the Boreal Sovereign would be standing guard...”
“What now?” asked the one next to him in a similar voice. “Shall we finish the job ourselves?”
“There is no need. This was only a diversion, after all. Our true objective lies elsewhere.” Chancellor Graeci let something slide from his left hand. It fell to the ground with a sickening squelch and rolled away. “We have little time. We must begin.” He turned on his heel and began to walk away. “With all eyes drawn to the von Kelheit mansion, the rest of the keep will be poorly guarded. None will stop us from reaching the place we seek.”
Graeci stepped forward onto the moonlit path, a host of shadows in his wake. No rain was falling, but the ground squelched like mud, laying waste to the stillness.
“Do you suppose I could tag along?” a voice asked.
A figure approached, walking toward them in the darkness. Their presence was so immense that it was obvious even in the dark of night, and their eye glinted gold.
Graeci raised a hand in greeting. “Second Prince Selene. What an unexpected pleasure. What brings you out so late at night?”
“I should be asking you the same thing, uncle. What are you doing here?”
With an amiable grin, Selene laid his hands on the hilts of his swords. His smile radiated strength, a promise that his uncle would not pass. The two halted and stared each other down.
“May I ask why you’re keeping such suspicious company?” he pressed.
Graeci spread his arms wide. “A simple social excursion.”
Selene frowned but did not point out the obvious. He looked around at the half-dozen figures, who were now encircling him. “They don’t look very sociable to me.”
“Well, surely you cannot blame them. You haven’t introduced yourself.”
“I see. And should they have introduced themselves too?”
Moonlight spilled through the clouds, illuminating their surroundings. The ground was red with blood—or rather, a gruesome reddish-black that came from gore mixing with earth. No small handful of bodies could have done this. There were scores, carved to pieces and left to lie where they had fallen.
Still smiling, Graeci gestured to a severed head lying on the ground, the object that he had until recently been holding. “It is Second Tribune Drix you ought to blame. If he had not probed deeper than was wise, he and his comrades would still be alive.”
“Wasn’t it you who raised them to be patriots?”
The bodies littering the ground were from the organization known as Vang, Chancellor Graeci’s homegrown cadre of assassins.
“Go on ahead. I will deal with this one.” Graeci shot the hooded figures a meaningful glance. They turned around and departed in silence.
Selene made no move to give chase. He stared only at Graeci with a sour expression on his face. Something tangible had shifted in the air. Condensed mana contracted around Graeci, coiling around him as though to imprison him.
Faced with power of such searing magnitude, Selene had no choice but to devote all of his attention to the enemy before him.
“I suppose you must want to know why I disposed of Vang.” Graeci raised his head haughtily to the night sky. “Well, allow me to enlighten you. They would have found themselves in decline in the days to come. I thought it best to spare them that fate.”
His face twisted as he looked back down at Selene. His composed facade cracked and sheer delight issued forth: glee, pleasure, joy, rapture, as though all the world were for his enjoyment. He seemed so overjoyed that he could dance.
“Is it not a parent’s duty to bring their children’s end when their time comes?”
Selene’s eyes narrowed in displeasure. “What do you want? No, a better question—who are you?”
“Do you imagine I will simply tell you?”
“I’ll make you soon enough. I swear by all I have, I will avenge Drix and his men.” Selene’s power grew like a ripple in still water, seething with quiet anger. The air groaned beneath the weight of a vast surge of strength and unstoppable fury. He drew his twin blades from his hips. “Móralltach! Beagalltach! Our enemy is come.”
Graeci scratched at his neck in exasperation. “And you are truly committed to this course?”
“Why not? Let’s make it a contest for the ages. My strength may run dry, but the sound of our battle will draw our nation’s finest.”
“You would sacrifice yourself? Like our dear fourth prince?”
“Please. We are hardly the same. I simply refuse to be bested.” An unbreakable will emanated from Selene. He would not yield, no matter what.
Chancellor Graeci snorted. He laid a hand on his hip and breathed a deep, heavy sigh. “Foolishness.” All of sudden, every emotion that defined him fell away like a husk. His face registered nothing whatsoever, as if he were looking at nothing more than an insect. “Tell me, what know you of fear?”
An immense surge of mana burst forth, tearing the heavens and gouging the earth.
“Quail in terror, cry in dread...and behold my majesty.”
The ground shattered and space was rent asunder as boundless might billowed forth.
“Succumb now to fear. I call upon the Day of Genesis—Longinus.”
The air shuddered. The heavens cracked in desperate sorrow, and the earth split in tearful pleading. Chaos poured forth into the world.
“For my name is—”
“Save it!” Selene surged forward, closing the distance in an instant, and brought both swords down with incredible force. Graeci’s lance repelled the attack with ease, however, licking out to graze his cheek.
“Consider it an honor that a lord would stoop to entertain his lessers.”
“By the end of tonight, they’ll call me Lordslayer!”
Selene wiped the blood from his cheek and unleashed another attack, bringing his full strength to bear. Graeci met his assault with lips twisted in ecstasy, not even deigning to take a defensive stance. The twain clashed. The sky boomed as it failed to contain their violence, and the earth screamed as it failed to match their strength.
＊＊＊＊＊
The twenty-first day of the third month of Imperial Year 1024
A smaller Lebering encampment had been erected adjacent to the imperial camp, including a tent for Hiro. This was where the day found him, poring over a map spread out on the central table. Nearby, Claudia sipped elegantly from a cup of tea. Also present were a man in traveling merchant’s attire and the captain of Claudia’s queensguard.
Claudia raised her head as he placed pawns on the map. “It seems we have been assigned to the center of the formation.”
“Albeit separately at the rear, yes. Aura will be commanding, so we’re in good hands. The only variables are the generals defending us on the flanks.” Hiro picked up a sheet of parchment lying on the table—a list of the imperial army’s commanding officers.
Claudia peered at the parchment, intrigued. “Commanding the right wing is...a man named Bassianus, it says. Do you know him?”
Hiro cast his mind back through old memories. “I met him once at a banquet.”
A general affiliated with the eastern nobles, Bassianus was exactly the kind of headstrong commander that military nations such as the empire tended to favor. He had few achievements to his name, however, so he had probably attained his position by birth rather than talent.
“His vice-commander’s capable enough, though,” Hiro added. “I think we’ll be able to rely on the right flank.”
Something else concerned him more. By all rights, Rosa should have taken the position, but she was nowhere to be seen. Where had she gotten to? Second Prince Selene seemed to be absent as well. He found himself feeling strangely uneasy.
Claudia spoke again, sensing his misgivings. “The vice-commander is...Decius Etoll von Bunadala, it says?”
“Aura’s father. He’s never led a force of this size before, but I doubt the man who raised the Warmaiden will fail to impress. He’s a good choice.”
The left wing seemed dependable enough as well. Beto von Muzuk had been placed in charge—with some gripes about having been passed over for high commander in favor of Aura, no doubt, but he was not the kind of man to throw a tantrum. His vice-commander was equally trustworthy: one Rugen Kiork von Gurinda. Hiro couldn’t help but smile as he read the name.
Claudia cocked her head. “Is something the matter?”
“Just thinking he’s gone up in the world, that’s all. He’s Liz’s uncle.”
“My, my. Are you certain she should be placing her relatives in charge? Ought we be concerned?”
“He has a proven record. Mostly just small skirmishes, admittedly, but he’s a sound commander. I think he’s a fine choice for the role.”
Kiork’s achievements in battle were far from illustrious—it was natural for some to suspect he had leveraged his family connections. He would have to demonstrate otherwise if he was to assuage their doubts.
I’d like him to take this chance to prove himself, if he can.
One show of prowess would be enough. Any general who distinguished themselves in this battle would be above reproach. His men would follow him without complaint.
“Do you suppose we’re in for an easy fight?” Claudia asked.
“I wonder. It all comes down to the enemy commander.”
Lucia had relinquished leadership of the army to Luka and returned west. Hiro hardly had a complete grasp of Luka, but her command of her forces during her tenure as vice-commander had been superb. It was safe to assume that she was the more familiar one with battles of this scale. Liz and Aura had never led such a large force before, and that was cause for concern. In which case, the center of the formation would be key to the whole engagement.
“What role do we play in all of this, my lord?” The captain of Claudia’s queensguard spoke up in grave tones. He was a warrior with steel in his spine, steadfast, conscientious, and intolerant of injustice. Why such a man was willing to follow Claudia was a mystery to Hiro, but no doubt she had struck a chord with him in some way or another.
“We follow our orders faithfully,” Hiro replied.
The captain turned his eyes to Claudia, who gave a silent nod. Seeing that his queen had given her assent, he said no more.
“Even if that means following them into defeat?” Claudia said what her subject was unwilling to.
“Even then.”
This war was a prime opportunity to assess how much Liz and her allies had matured. Until recently, Hiro had assumed duties that should have been theirs. The situation was improving now, but Liz’s growth in particular still seemed a little slow.
By all rights, she should have awakened sooner.
Hiro only had himself to blame for the delay. He had taken on roles that would otherwise have fallen to Liz and exercised no restraint in them, depriving her of chances to learn. On top of that, he had been too willing to indulge her and overprotective of her talents.
Fighting side by side all sounds very noble, but it won’t help her overcome her limitations.
First, she needed the will to lose to no one and the determination to overtake any competition. Only then could they fight side by side on even terms. If she was satisfied by simply catching up, she would never improve.
She’s trying to be too much like me and not enough like herself. And I’m not a very good role model.
Simply mimicry was pointless. Only by understanding and applying could one truly grow stronger. By removing himself from Liz and her allies’ presence, they would finally start to understand, rather than parrot. They would devour the next enemy, and then the next, until even kings were merely food to them. And beyond that trail of corpses lay an unassailable throne.
The path of conquest, where only the most merciless succeed.
Claudia tittered as she watched his mind work. “You coddle them overmuch,” she said.
Hiro simply shrugged and returned his gaze to the map.
Claudia wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed herself against him. He could feel the softness of her body against his back as she brought her lips to his ear. “You claim that you will do as you are bid, but are you not concocting strategies even as we speak?” Her hands seemed to take on a life of their own as they crept across his chest. “I see how you worry. How you fret. Why not simply be honest with yourself?”
As Hiro persisted in his silence, she pressed her shapely nose against the back of his ear. A warm, sweet breath slipped from her lips.
“You are already plotting what to do if they should fail. You say that you have pushed them from the nest, but I know that you will fly to their aid at the first sign of danger, even at the cost of all our plans.”
Her lips traced the line of his neck like a caress. The captain of the queensguard could only stare, aghast, and the merchant averted his eyes, but she paid neither of them any heed.
“Lavish too much attention on others and you’ll start to make me jealous.”
“You worry too much.” Hiro stepped out of Claudia’s embrace and turned to meet her gaze. “They’re not as weak as you think. I’m sure they’ll put me to shame.”
Humans lived in a state of constant change. Different individuals might develop in different ways, but they could not stand still any more than they could cease accumulating years. This war would propel Liz and her comrades to greater heights, winning them glory, increasing their wealth, and solidifying their power. And, in time...
They’ll need a stepping stone to move forward. And that’s what I’m here for.
Hiro began to walk away.
Claudia called out to him as he departed. “Where are you going?”
“A little night air might do me some good.”
He exited the tent without waiting for a response. The camp was shrouded in darkness. Bonfires flickered in the night wind, sending out puffs of sparks as their firewood crackled and snapped. The frail light danced across the vacant features of his mask, casting shadows and imparting warmth.
He stared down at his own hands—hands stained with the blood of countless dead.
I was truly blessed, Rey.
Above his head, a sky’s worth of stars twinkled.
I had Artheus, and you, and all of our other comrades by my side.
And they had been gracious enough to extend their hand to somebody so naive, so useless.
Maybe that’s why, after I lost you...I lost sight of where to stop.
He gave a self-effacing smile. Some things hadn’t changed.
But when I was called back here, I found somebody worth fighting for.
Although he knew the moon lay beyond his reach, he stretched out his hand even so.
I found a world worth fighting for.
He had failed to grasp the heavens once before, but this time would be different. A certain someone might scoff at that, pointing out that he had already abandoned his duty. Still, he now had a second chance, and he did not intend to waste it.
So please. Please. Look at my foolishness and laugh.
He carried only one wish in his breast: for them to watch over him to the end. To watch and laugh as he fought against fate.
The happiness I found in those days, in that glorious golden age...
He clasped a hand to his chest and breathed out, low and shallow.
Through Liz, I’ll give it all back to you. Until my bones are dust.
＊＊＊＊＊
“Urgh... I’m exhausted.”
With the strategy meeting over, Liz returned to the tent to find Aura already there. She set a finger to her chin and cocked her head, perplexed. It wasn’t common for Aura to pay visits.
“What is it?”
“I wanted to get your permission for something, but...” Aura shook her head, stepped closer, and peered deep into her eyes with an intensity that belied her short stature.
Liz stepped back. “What are you doing?”
“Have you been sleeping?” Aura asked.
Liz’s heart skipped a beat. She almost found herself blurting out the truth but hurriedly bit it back and forced a smile. “O-Of course I am. Why do you ask?”
Aura pointed. “Under your eyes. There are bags.”
Liz’s hand went unconsciously to her face. She had thought the makeup would be enough to conceal the evidence, but Aura had seen straight through it. Aura wasn’t annoyed by the lie, however. She stared up at Liz with concern.
“You’re scared to sleep, aren’t you?”
Liz raised her hands in surrender. There wasn’t a hint of doubt in Aura’s voice; she wouldn’t be talking her way out of this one. “Yes.”
Ever since word had come of Hiro’s death, all of her dreams had been sorrowful ones. She couldn’t quite remember what they were about, but after every one, she awoke with her chest full of grief and tears trickling from her eyes. In time, she had become terrified to sleep at all.
“I’m supposed to be all grown up now, but look at me, still just a child.”
Liz meant it as a joke, but Aura’s brow furrowed with concern. She waved her hands in front of her face, trying to reassure her friend.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll make sure I sleep well tonight, I promise.”
Aura still didn’t look convinced. She moved her head from side to side, perhaps trying to think of ways to ensure peaceful sleep, and then stopped, as though she had hit upon an idea.
“All right. I hope so.”
With that, she settled into a nearby chair and began to read the Black Chronicle. At times, she really did act just like an older sister, Liz thought.
“Didn’t you have something to discuss?”
“It can wait. Your rest is more important.”
The message was clear: Get some sleep, now. Liz sighed. Aura could be terribly strict sometimes. Still, it was hard to blame her. Right now, Liz was in command of the empire’s entire military. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that the fate of the nation rested on her shoulders.
“Sorry for making you worry,” she said, and eased into bed. She couldn’t stay like this, she told herself. Her own weakness was hateful. Sooner or later, she would have to get stronger.
Stronger...stronger...stronger.
Strong enough to stand up to any challenge without moving an inch. With a heart of steel, just like her mother had possessed.
She had heard that her mother had been beautiful. Supposedly, her bloodline stretched back to the twenty-second emperor, the man who had become known as the God of Arms. He had driven the archons and the yaldabaoth back to the farthest reaches of the north, earning himself a place in the Grantzian pantheon in the process. Liz’s mother had been just as courageous as her ancestor. She had also inherited his distinctive flame-red hair, which she had passed on to her daughter—along with the peculiarities that it brought.
Because of that, everything had gone wrong. The people she cared about most in the world had vanished, one by one. Her mother had given her life to save her. Dios, the closest thing she had to an older brother, had died in her name. Now, even Hiro was gone. If only she had never been born...
“You mustn’t blame yourself so,” said a voice.
Liz’s eyes flew wide, and she gasped. All around, flowers bloomed in an array of vibrant hues. A gentle wind blew past. Clean air filled her lungs. All the fear and worry smoldering in her chest faded away.
She searched for words and found none, but she could sense that this was a dream. Even so, something about it felt strangely tangible, as though she were halfway between dreaming and waking.
“What... But how...?”
A profusion of emotions that even she could not understand flooded her heart. They wracked her body violently, so painful that she felt like she was about to burst. She curled up as though retreating into her shell.
“You mustn’t strain yourself.”
A gentle weight pressed against her back. Its presence seemed to take the pain away.
“Is that better?” the voice asked.
Liz looked up to see a beautiful, blue-eyed woman crouching over her. Her golden hair streamed in the wind, and through it peeked the twin tips of pointed ears. The calm that had come over Liz’s heart began to falter. The woman’s face looked somehow familiar.
“Are you...an álf?”
“My mother was...although my father was human.”
“If you don’t mind me asking...where are we?”
The álf put a finger to her chin. “Hmm... Somewhere very deep, I should say. Far deeper than you ought to be able to go.” She waved her hand, and Lævateinn appeared from thin air. “This little lady saw your torment, so she took it upon herself to bring you here. Evidently, the centuries have made her no less willful.”
With a gentle smile, the woman laid a hand on the blade. A jet of flame coiled affectionately about her. Liz blinked. Lævateinn was usually the temperamental sort—she did not take to people so easily.
“Is this a memory? From one of her old wielders?”
That, at least, would explain her earlier déjà vu. As Scáthach had explained previously, the more a Spiritblade wielder drew on their weapon’s power, the more they could access the memories of its previous chosen. Through these memories, they could gain knowledge and learn how to harness their weapon, enabling them to draw out more strength in turn.
The álf however, only gave an unreadable smile. “I fear not. This is not her domain. It is somewhere else entirely.”
“Then where—”
A pale finger touched Liz’s lips. “Must I say it? You already know.” The finger slipped down, the hand opening to press gently against Liz’s chest, and the álf smiled, full and pure. “Do you not?”
Liz wasn’t certain she did, but she nodded anyway. The kindness in the woman’s face—and the earnestness hidden beneath—left her lost for words.
“You can cleave open the way. Of that I have no doubt.” The woman placed Lævateinn in Liz’s hands. The flames clung to her still, reluctant to leave. She gently brushed them free and smiled gently. “Give my regards to Lord Hiro.”
She spoke the words like a simple courtesy, but the depth of feeling contained within them squeezed tight around Liz’s heart.
“One thousand years I have waited. A dizzying span of time, I’m sure you will agree.”
She looked up at the sky, letting her thoughts fly far afield, and a look of peace came over her face. How she could wear that expression was beyond Liz’s comprehension, but what she thought, what she cherished, what she lamented, seared themselves into her heart.“I think,” Liz said hesitantly, “I’m catching up to him now.”
Still, he had eluded her grasp. She could no longer walk by his side.
The woman smiled softly, as though she had read Liz’s mind. “What are you saying? You shall surpass him.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your hesitation is commendable, but you must not stop now.” She gazed at Liz with gentle eyes, making no move to rescue her hair from the wind’s grasp. She still had not moved a step, as though she were rooted to the spot. “Have no fear. If anybody can save him, it’s you.”
She was as close as she had ever been, and yet somehow, it seemed as though she was getting farther away by the second.
“Wait!”
Liz’s field of view narrowed with dizzying speed. Agony clanged inside her head, but she gritted her teeth and bore the pain. There was still so much she wanted to talk about, so many memories that she wanted to hear, so many sides of Hiro that she did not yet know. She stretched out her hand, but it grasped only empty space.
“Please, wait! There’s still so much I need to ask you!”
She fought with all her might, reaching out desperately, clawing at the air. As the world dissolved into rays of light, a gentle warmth enfolded her hand. The woman squeezed her fingers tight and smiled, as though affirming that she truly was there and always would be.
“How can I save him?” Liz asked. “Hiro, he’s... He’s already...”
Already gone. Was that really true? Some small part of her wanted to believe that he was still watching over her from somewhere. Feelings she did not understand flared in her breast—feelings that she could not control, rage and grief intertwining until they spilled from her grasp. She could no longer say what was true and what was false.
She cried out with a voice born of all her frustration. “I don’t even know what to do anymore!”
“Why, hit him, of course. Hard.”
“Pardon?” Liz could not help the voice that slipped from her mouth. Whatever she had been expecting, it was not that.
“Perhaps you’ve noticed that habit of his.” The woman put her fingers to the corners of her mouth and forced her lips upward. Her cheeks flushed a little, as though embarrassed by the gesture. “Whenever he sees his plans falling into place, he cannot help but smile.”
Her laughter, faintly bashful, echoed in the stillness. It dragged on and on, turning to pleasant music that shook the world.
“So show him no restraint. He is one thousand years overdue for a good punch.”
In the last seconds before Liz’s vision went dark, the woman’s expression turned from kindness to anger.
“Wait!”
As Liz stretched out her hand, a sudden fatigue assailed her. Gravity weighed down on her body and her breath caught in her throat. She lifted her head, rubbing her neck.
“Ow!”
She must have moved too forcefully. Dull pain throbbed in her temples. As she winced and massaged her head, the duvet covering her upper body slid to the floor with a thump. At the same time, footsteps pattered up to her and a hand fell on her shoulder.
“Are you all right?”
Liz glanced sideways toward the voice to see Aura staring into her face. “A-Aura?” she stammered.
“Another bad dream?”
This time, she could definitively say otherwise. “No. A pleasant one.”
A sense of peace spread through her, as though she were being enfolded in something soft and warm—like her mother’s arms, she thought idly. She pressed a fist to her chest, desperate not to let the feeling fade. Who had the woman been? Why had she had that dream? Vague emotions swirled in her chest, and reaching for them was like grasping at clouds. She would get no answers here.
She sank back into bed in resignation. “I think I’ll sleep a little longer.”
“Okay.” Aura said nothing more. She sat down on the edge of the bed and opened the Black Chronicle.
Liz smiled. “Goodnight.”
Staring up at the light on the ceiling, she fell away again into darkness. This time, however, where there had once been terror, there was now a sense of peace. She felt a vague yet somehow certain premonition that she would have no more nightmares. She would sleep soundly tonight.
In the moment before she fully gave herself over to slumber, a voice rang in her ears—a calm, gentle voice that soothed her aches and pains. “Don’t worry,” it said distantly. “Everything’s going to be all right.”
＊＊＊＊＊
The twenty-third day of the third month of Imperial Year 2024
The Laryx Plains, in the northwest of the western territories
The ruins of battle lay on the ground. A fierce clash had taken place here, and here its traces remained, bleeding resentment into the soil. Unrecovered bodies—none of them whole—littered the grass. The corpses had rotted before winter was out, ravaged by monsters and picked clean of even the most damaged armaments by scavengers. Now they covered the Laryx Plains undisturbed, elaborate decorations stripped of all that glittered.
Today, this site of carnage would become a battlefield once more. To both the east and the west, ranks of soldiers crowded the horizon. A profusion of banners blotted out the sky, each flapping more wildly than the last as though to assert dominance over the field.
To the east were one hundred and thirty thousand imperial troops. A distinctly different force stood in the center, toward the rear. These were from the Royal Army of Lebering, led by Claudia. While they had been accepted as an addition to the army—although kept separate to be employed as shock troops, owing to their different affiliation—their presence had not been especially welcomed. That came as no surprise. The biggest reason was that they were unable to coordinate with the rest of the army, but the glory they had already accumulated also played a role. The imperial command no doubt hoped to avoid giving them further accolades so as not to invite discord.
“And so we have won ourselves a commanding view of the field,” Hiro remarked. He stifled a yawn and leaned back into the seat of his four-horse carriage.
Beside him, Claudia looked up from the tea she was steeping. “We’ve come all this way simply to watch, it seems. We must truly have nothing better to do.”
“Without even two thousand men, there’s nothing else for it.”
Fighting day after day until the imperial forces arrived had depleted Claudia’s numbers. What had begun as five thousand men was now only the better part of two. Still, their sacrifices had not been in vain. They had inflicted disproportionate damage on Six Kingdoms’ numbers.
“Besides,” Hiro added, “I wouldn’t have wanted to be placed on the front lines.” After all the fighting they had done, the Lebering soldiers needed the chance to rest.
“So?” Claudia’s eyebrows rose. “What do you make of the field?”
Hiro looked down at the map by his feet. He set out pawns to represent the two opposing armies. The imperial army’s right wing comprised fifty thousand, chiefly cavalry; the left wing was the same. The central force of thirty thousand was primarily infantry and deployed so as to accept an enemy charge.
Six Kingdoms had comparatively fewer horses. Its left and right wings, thirty thousand apiece, were primarily infantry, and its central forty thousand was a mix, albeit mostly cavalry. Both armies had taken up a similar formation, each seeking to encircle the other.
Claudia craned her neck to peer over his shoulder. “The imperial center seems terribly sparse. Are our forces not imbalanced?”
“We’re basically telling the enemy what tactics we’re going to use, it’s true, but I presume there’s a rationale behind it. Aura prefers offense to defense, so maybe she’s trying to bait them.”
Fewer troops for the center meant the wings would present thicker walls. The key was which would move first. The imperial forces had more spare pieces—which was to say, reserves—so Six Kingdoms would have to start by chipping away at those. On the face of it, they were at a disadvantage, but that would only hold true in practice if they had no plan.
“What would you do were you in their shoes?” Claudia asked.
“I’d take the bait. And then I’d thrash our forces so soundly that they’d regret ever offering it.”
Hiro looked up from the map and out at the front lines. Today, in a span of time both too short and too long, a battle would be fought that would go down in the annals of history. In less than an hour’s time, the cloying stench of blood would fill his lungs, the tang of iron would scorch the grass, and gore would paint the blue skies red. Good and evil did not exist on the battlefield, but the blaring of the horns sounded the creation of a self-contained world where victory and defeat cast their dice with even hands; a bloodsoaked nightmare where horrors lurked and demons stalked.
“It’s starting.”
Horns blew, announcing that battle was joined. Banners rose from both armies to their stately music: a declaration from both sides that lives would now be spent for honor. Which would stand tall by the day’s end, and which would drown in pools of blood?
“Six Kingdoms is the first to move, it seems.”
Six Kingdoms’ right wing began to advance. The drumming of their hooves resounded all the way to the Lebering troops’ position. Fierce battle cries shook the air.
“Their morale looks high enough. Now to see how we respond...”
Hiro turned his gaze to the center of the army, where no doubt Aura was beginning to feel the pressure.
＊＊＊＊＊
As Hiro had predicted, Aura was racking her brains. She envisioned a future without regret or remorse, filled with her friends’ smiles...but only her performance today could determine whether her chosen strategy could bring that into being. To execute a battle plan capable of defying so formidable a foe would not be easy, especially for someone of her tender years, but she, more than anyone, understood that this was not a battle she could afford to lose.
“My lady!” an aide cried. “The enemy’s right wing has begun to move!”
“I know. Send our left wing forward.”
Both armies were trying to encircle one another. As a result, their formations had ended up broadly mirroring one another, differing only in the minutiae. Aura signaled the standard bearer and the left wing of the imperial army began to advance.
“We’ll be the ones doing the surrounding.”
Another signal, this time for the right wing to advance. The banner waved, the wing responded, and the troops ground into motion. A gap steadily opened up between the center of the army and its flanks. The imperial wings were composed primarily of cavalry, and as a result, their speed was tremendous—a trait that would be put to good use in the encirclement strategy that Aura was employing.
“What of the center, my lady?” the aide asked. “Will it not be dangerous to lag behind?”
He was wrong. It was too soon to make that call. “We wait for now. I want to see what the enemy does.”
The imperial forces had the numbers. The rest would come down to how they used their reserves, but the moment was not yet ripe for that.
As Aura continued to bide her time, the empire’s right wing met Six Kingdoms’ left. With the imperial center still motionless, the clashing of steel was clearly audible. Riders screamed as arrows pierced their flesh, and masterless warhorses whinnied in agony. Blades clashed, carving flesh; lances crossed, piercing hearts. A red mist rose over the right side of the battlefield.
“But the left...”
Despite setting off earlier than the right wing, the left wing was yet to reach the fray. From the plume of dust rising in their wake, it seemed they were moving with all haste, but they were still chasing the enemy’s shadow. By contrast, the right wing was now barreling forward as its momentum willed. The sturdy walls defending the center had utterly crumbled.
“My lady, this seems...” The aide looked at her with budding panic in his eyes.
“I know.” Aura narrowed her eyes, leaning over her horse’s ears to stare at the enemy core. Flags danced against the sky. Drumbeats shook the air. And as a cloud of dust rose skyward...
“There.”
She clasped a hand over her chest, as though suppressing the turmoil within.
＊＊＊＊＊
Six Kingdoms’ armies sprawled beneath a brown sky. Leading the forty thousand men that made up its core was Luka Mammon du Vulpes. The woman stared at the ground with vacant eyes, her aides’ reports sliding off her ears. Sitting atop her crossed legs was the skull that had once been her brother, and she caressed its bony head as she watched a column of ants march across the earth.
“Ants and soldiers have a lot in common, don’t you think?” she murmured. The skull did not answer, but she nodded anyway. A twisted smile spread across her face. “Well said. Even commanders are nothing more than pawns in the end. No different to ants slaving away for eternity.”
As much as she looked like she had lost her mind, she understood her own role well enough. Her clouded eyes watched her aides closely as they ran to their posts, trailing clouds of dust; when messengers rode up to her with reports, she responded, issuing brief but appropriate orders. Her subordinates shared an unspoken understanding that it didn’t matter if she was broken as long as she could do her job. Nobody wanted to try their luck wresting the seat of command from the wielder of a Dharmic Blade.
“The right wing of the imperial army appears to have taken the bait, my lady,” an aide announced.
Luka turned to the man with unfocused eyes, stroking Igel’s skull. That alone was enough to make him gulp, but he rallied, scared to cause offense. Even so, his eyes did not move from Luka’s lap as he reeled off his report.
“What of our own right flank?” she asked.
“They have succeeded in separating the imperial left wing from the core.”
“Have they, indeed. Then you must call for General Macrill.”
The aide remained bowed; indeed, he could not carry out her order if he had tried. The man she had requested was long dead.
“My lady...I know not how to say this...” He steeled himself and lifted his head to find himself looking at a faded husk of a woman.
“Well? Out with it.”
“Regarding General Macrill...I’m afraid that, well...” He had to say it. If he agreed to fetch the man only to return empty-handed, he would soon find himself shorter by a head. He feigned a cough to hide his anxiety while he worked up his nerve, pounded a fist against the ground, and opened his mouth. “General Macrill is dead, my lady! He perished in battle at Fort Veritas several days ago alongside twenty thousand men!”
Twenty thousand routed by one. Such an upset was without precedent. General Macrill would go down as the architect of the worst military disaster in Six Kingdoms’ history.
Technically, not all twenty thousand had perished. Three thousand survivors had staggered, exhausted, back to the main force. The rest were gone, having turned to banditry and brigandry or fallen prey to those who had.
“I see. So General Macrill has passed away.” Luka set off with uncertain steps. She gestured to one of her guards to fetch her horse.
The aide stood and scrambled to follow her, although he kept a respectful distance. “Where are you going, my lady?”
“If General Macrill is no longer with us, I must lead the charge myself.”
“There are other capable commanders, my lady! Can you not leave the matter to them?”
“They cannot be trusted. Nobody can be trusted. I have no one left but Igel.” Paying no mind to the aide’s protestations, she mounted her horse with astonishing agility and rubbed her cheek against her brother’s skull. “The time is ripe. We will sally forth at once.”
Six Kingdoms’ wings had peeled apart the twin walls shielding the imperial core. Seeing the empire’s superior numbers, Luka had judged that they were likely to be taking an encirclement approach. In response, she had made it seem as though Six Kingdoms’ right flank was doing the same, and the enemy had obligingly hastened to respond.
“All is but a pretense to expose their center.”
As a result, the imperial left wing had been separated from the rest of the force, and the right wing was tangled in battle. With its defenses stripped away, the central thirty thousand were left exposed, ripe for Six Kingdoms’ central forty thousand to charge into with their greater numbers.
“Send Vendetta to the vanguard,” she commanded the aide. “Light cavalry for the first cohort, heavy cavalry for the second. The infantry will remain here to fend off their right flank. I will take the sixth princess’s head myself.” With that, she kicked her horse and set out for the front. “Watch over me, brother dear,” she whispered, still stroking Igel’s skull despite the swaying of her horse. “I will tear every last Grantzian royal limb from limb.”
Her guards looked on uneasily, but once they reached the vanguard, they had bigger concerns. The sight of the troops there drove all previous unease from their minds.
“So, this is Vendetta...” one of them whispered. “They’re an eerie bunch and no mistake.”
Ignoring her guards’ reservations, Luka inhaled the stagnant air and expelled a rapturous breath. “I must give my thanks to Lady Lucia,” she said.
For all their foul reek, Vendetta—Lucia’s Revenant Brigade—were no objects of fear to Luka. Judging by her expression, if anything, they inflamed her sadistic streak. They had originally been under Lucia’s command, but for reasons best known to herself, she had relinquished them to Luka before retreating to Faerzen. With no cause to refuse, Luka had accepted, and judging from her guards’ reactions, that had been the correct decision.
“We’ll tear clean through their core,” she said. “They’ll never see us coming.”
Vendetta’s fervor was too raw to be called quiet and too disquieting to be called solemn. “Eerie” was the only word. So thoroughly was their armor dyed with dried blood that even the sunlight could not reveal its original color. The air around them stank of rotten flesh and their bodies issued a bestial reek, with the odor summoning clouds of flies. Their swords were poorly maintained, thoroughly rusted, with the chinks in the blades matted with dried flesh. Worst of all, however, their eyes were as dead as Luka’s. They were like walking corpses, wandering revenants, a pack of ghouls with no hint of life among them.
“What... What manner of monsters...” Unable to suppress his urge to vomit, one of Luka’s guards leaned over and retched.
“That is no way to address brave soldiers of our nation.” Luka shot the man a glance, but he did not hold her attention for long. She turned her gaze to the sky. “You may kill them if you wish. They did not even deign to greet Igel.”
The members of Vendetta moved to carry out her orders.
“Wh-What are you doing?! Have you lost your minds?!”
The dead-eyed soldiers dragged the astonished guards from their horses and stomped their skulls in. Some of their victims had their throats torn out, others were dismembered and strewn beneath their own horses, and yet others were simply beaten to death. Vendetta slaughtered them to a man, simmering with enough loathing to stifle their screams.
Luka watched, enthralled, as the gory scene unfolded. “Wonderful. How much purer humans are when they follow their instincts.” She set Igel’s skull gently between her thighs and pulled on the reins. “Today we eradicate the blood of von Grantz! Tear out the throats of every fool who stands before us!”
With an expression twisted as hatefully as a starving beast’s, she turned her clouded eyes to the imperial line.
“Charge!”
She surged forward at the head of the pack. Monsters followed in her wake, jaws slavering. Once they had been men, but no more. A rain of arrows descended from the imperial center, but it did not slow their momentum.
“Call me low if you will! Call me a villain if you must! My name is Luka Mammon du Vulpes!”
With Luka at their head, Vendetta crashed into the imperial lines with pinpoint precision.
“What in the— Agh!” One swing sent a foot soldier’s head flying. Brain matter sprayed, but the beasts of Vendetta did not falter. Their might was fearsome, and the imperial troops quickly began to falter before their offense.
“Hold the line! Hold the line for all you’re worth— Gah!”
The stress and exhaustion of their long march weighed heavy on the imperials’ limbs. Vendetta took to the field like fish to water, wreaking havoc uninhibited. Caught off guard, the imperial ranks descended into confusion, and the first cohort quickly collapsed. The battle became a slaughter.
“Tear! Flay! Ravage! Cut down all who stand before us!”
Luka’s troops carved deeper into the imperial core, their momentum only growing as they came.
＊＊＊＊＊
“Lady Celia Estrella, it appears that the first cohort has been routed.”
“I see.” Liz nodded firmly and turned her horse about. Behind her awaited a unit of light cavalry clad in vermilion armor. “Not long now. The day has come to show the world the might of the Knights of the Rose!”
A company affiliated with the Fourth Legion, they were the fastest horsemen in the Grantzian Empire; truly the best of the best. In contrast to the heavy cavalry of the Knights of the Royal Black—which Aura had once commanded—they were composed entirely of light cavalry. While they had been too busy keeping the peace in the south to accompany Liz to any of her previous battles, this war was one that concerned the entire empire, which had given them the chance to ride to her aid. Now back under the leadership of their rightful commander, they were the most energized troops on the battlefield.
“If you feel fear, look forward! If you feel terror, look forward! If you feel doubt, look forward! And there you will find me!” Liz drew Lævateinn from her belt and held it high, blazing tip reaching for the blue sky. “I will wash away your fears!”
There was a moment of silence, and then the air erupted with cheers. The Knights of the Rose answered her with a battle cry, beating their shields and raising their spears as they yelled and whooped.
“Spirit King’s blessings upon the Valditte!” someone cried.
Their morale was high, their spirits were higher, and Liz was in fine fettle as she took the lead. At last, the moment came. Seeing the rose banner rise from the main force, Liz fixed her gaze on the azure heavens and took a deep breath.
“We ride to flank their core!”
A pull on the reins sent her steed hurtling forward. Her goal was the annihilation of Six Kingdoms’ central force, which even now was sinking its teeth into its imperial counterpart. Her unit’s position in the third cohort of the left wing had left them perfectly placed to ride to the second cohort’s aid.
Everything’s going just as Aura planned. She wasn’t called the Warmaiden for nothing. All that was left now was for Liz to do her duty.
The moment came sooner than expected. The plan was for her to flank the enemy’s core, which should have been engaging the second cohort, but instead...
“What are they doing?”
Off to the side, far past where they should have been, an enemy force surged ahead with incredible speed. She watched, aghast at the force with which they carved through the imperial lines. A little way behind, the rest of the core chased after their allies.
“Your Highness, a portion of their forces is approaching the center of the second cohort!”
The soldier’s cry brought Liz back to her senses. It seemed that the enemy charge had been faster than she anticipated. If she did not stop them now, it would derail all of Aura’s plans.
“Engage that unit!”
“Are you certain, Your Highness? Were our orders not to flank their core?”
“If we don’t do something, they’ll tear clean through the heart of our army.”
“Surely not. How could they push through with those numbers?”
Liz had her doubts as well, but alarm bells were ringing in her mind. If she ignored the enemy only for them to prove stronger than she expected, she would regret this moment for the rest of her life.
“Turn right! Engage that unit!”
A swing of Lævateinn lit the way, and the Knights of the Rose followed faithfully. The strange cavalry had driven into the second cohort at its weakest point, leaving Liz able to strike it from behind. Corpses littered the ground in their wake, twisted in agony—a field of carnage almost too gruesome to look at.
“Stop them here, whatever it takes!”
As she caught up, she leaped from her saddle, striking the head from a passing horseman in a single blow. Her acrobatics did not end there; she leaped deftly from horse to horse, slicing through each rider’s vitals before moving on. At that point, the Knights of the Rose caught up. Their lancepoints gleamed as they slammed into the enemy’s rear. They struck with incredible precision, their well-honed prowess tearing a ragged hole through Six Kingdoms’ lines.
And yet...
“What in the...? These men have lost their minds!”
A nearby horseman drove his lance clean through an enemy soldier’s belly, only to cry out in shock as the mortally wounded man grasped the haft, dragging him down to the ground. The pair vanished in confusion and dust.
“Be sure to finish them, or else get away— Agh!”
Sensing death, one of the enemy soldiers leaped at an imperial rider, knocking him from his mount. Their bodies caught the legs of the horses behind. Seeing that the enemy did not hesitate to embrace death, the Knights of the Rose hesitated and their momentum ebbed.
A chill ran up Liz’s spine. The enemy seemed willing to throw away their lives for the slightest chance of taking a soldier of the empire with them. What could possibly have driven them to that point? How much hatred must they bear in their hearts to choose such self-destruction? She did not, could not understand, but nor could she allow any more soldiers to die in vain.
Her decision came quickly. “Raise your speed—”
The rest of her words died in her throat. The enemy had changed course. Knocking imperial troops aside, caring not if they fell from their horses, the Six Kingdoms cavalry forcibly pivoted around.
“Urrr... Graaaaaahhh...”
A groan rose above the din—no longer a voice, but an incomprehensible noise born of dread and despair, a wave of sound that grated on the eardrums. Battle-trained warhorses froze with terror as they heard it. For a brief moment, silence fell between the two sides—not one of calm, but one of vehement loathing.
“GRAAAAAAHHH!”
The Six Kingdoms soldiers charged, sparing no thought for the unhorsed allies they mangled beneath their hooves. Indeed, they no longer seemed able to distinguish friend from foe.
“Drive them back!” Liz cried fiercely as she kicked her horse’s flanks. The knights’ vermilion clashed with their enemy’s blood-matted red. One side raised their spears in hatred; the other drew their swords for pride. The two forces grew entangled. Crimson flowers bloomed across the sky, and red rain soaked the ground. In the span of an instant, the battlefield was transformed into a den of carnage, strewn with uncountable dead.
“What are they?”
As Liz cut down the approaching soldiers, a chill ran through her at the hatred in the dead men’s eyes. Their blank gazes took in the bloodsoaked battlefield before them, but their mouths manifested no words, gave no voice to their hatred. They cared for nothing but slaying their enemies. It was hard not to falter when faced with such pointed loathing.
“But don’t think that’ll buy you...” A note of sadness crept into her voice. “...any mercy from me!”
An indomitable will burned in her eyes. Sympathy had no place on the battlefield. The enemy may well be unwilling to yield, but she, too, had something to fight for.
“I’ll take you on with everything I’ve got.”
With incredible force, she leaped from the saddle and plunged into the midst of the dead-eyed enemy. The air screamed with the force of her swings. Even so, the revenants before her didn’t so much as flinch. Her slashes carried incredible force and sprayed nothing so kind as sparks; with every one she unleashed, a great gout of flame swallowed her enemies.
“Ahh...ahh...”
With wordless cries, her foes vanished in flame. A wave of fire spread out before her, a colossal serpent that swallowed her enemies like a raging sea. Its unstoppable heat burned through all defenses, but strangely, it ignored her allies; its fangs were for Six Kingdoms’ troops alone, and it tore through them with vigor.
“A portion of the enemy has split off, Your Highness!” a soldier shouted. “They’re carrying on toward the core!”
Liz turned away from the sea of fire and back to the front. A cloud of dust hung in the air, a plume of brown smoke bearing down on the heart of the imperial army.
“No way... Were they just sacrificing their men to waylay us?!”
That would explain everything—the enemy’s suicidal inclinations, their sudden about-face. The proof of the deception was right before her eyes. And if the commander’s eyes had always been on the imperial core...
“We have to go after them!”
Liz, the army’s spiritual leader, might still be hale, but that wouldn’t matter if the core was broken. Once news spread that the heart of the army had been gouged out, the empire’s numerical advantage would become irrelevant; the battle would take a dramatic turn for the worse.
At that moment...
“There you are.”
A syrupy voice, dredged up from the bottom of some dark lake, brushed her eardrums. It sounded like it had come from just over her shoulder, but when she spun around, there was no one to be seen.
No. No, that wasn’t right at all. There was most definitely somebody there. The ground cratered beneath a surge of incredible force. A stinging gust of wind blasted outward, ravaging Liz’s fiery serpent. As the gale carried the dust away, a woman appeared in the epicenter. Half of her body was gruesomely transfigured by burn scars, and her left sleeve flapped uselessly in the wind. What remained of her slender figure radiated dense, twisted hatred.
“Do you see, Igel? That must be her. Crimson hair, crimson blade, crimson men—all crimson. There’s no mistake. We have found the sixth princess of the empire.” Her clouded eyes swiveled from the skull in her hand to Liz. There was no breath of hope to be seen in their depths, only despair.
Liz’s breath caught in her throat. She had seen those eyes before, countless times. Indeed, she would never forget them. Even now, the sight was seared into the back of her mind: the nightmare that rose to claim her no matter how much she tried to resist, where all was written in stone. Where she could offer no help, grant no salvation, could only watch hell unfold—and the boy she had seen there had eyes very much like these.
“Watch now, Igel.” Oblivious to Liz’s shock, the woman set the skull atop a charred corpse. “There is enough heat left here to warm you. Worry not. I will finish this battle before you grow too cold.”
Liz’s mind swirled, struggling to keep up, but she had no time to ponder. A hideous roar drew her attention.
“No way! They’re still alive?!”
“GRAAAAAAH!”
A shape shambled toward her, the sickly white of bone peeking through from beneath its blistered skin. Its half-melted armor merged with charred flesh. White smoke billowed from its body like resentment given form, spiraling up on the wind.
“Vendetta...my darling playthings.”
The clashing of blades resumed, with a wicked crunch among them, but the woman’s voice cut through it all. Liz looked back to see her with a colossal warhammer in her hands, slumped over as though from fatigue. A smile lay on her face.
“In life, they died, and in death, they live. My poor, misbegotten pets.” She seemed to be looking at once very close and very far away as she stared at Liz. It was hard not to wonder whether whoever she was seeing was really Liz at all. “And I am their mistress, Luka Mammon du Vulpes.”
The earth shuddered with a mighty swing of her hammer.
“Come, now. Drink deep of blood and submit to sweet ecstasy.”
No Comments Yet
Post a new comment
Register or Login