Shinwa Densetsu no Eiyuu no Isekaitan - Volume 9 - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Schemes Abound

The chancellor’s chambers were located near the throne room. They were sparsely decorated compared to the emperor’s own, almost uncomfortably bare. Aside from the newly procured desk and chair, there was only a simple bed.

Hiro cast a glance around the room before returning his attention to Rosa in the center. “Not exactly quarters fit for a chancellor.”

“Of course not. If I made it any more comfortable, I’d have to live here.”

There were several things she could have meant by that. Perhaps she valued the distinction between professional and personal life, or perhaps she had little special attachment to her rank.

“Besides,” she continued, “I’d prefer not to stay here any longer than necessary. What little time I do have away from my duties, I try to spend in House Kelheit’s mansion.”

Certainly, while the palace’s security was tighter than it had been during Hiro’s last visit, there was no denying their enemies had breached it on multiple occasions. Rosa had reasonable cause for concern on that front. That said, there was a limit to how extensively she could remodel the chancellor’s quarters, and she could not equip it with the kinds of defenses she could employ at her own mansion. Admittedly, she had been attacked once at home too, but it offered better peace of mind than an undefended room.

“Why don’t you sit down? Anybody would think you didn’t mean to stay.” Rosa gestured to the chair.

Hiro duly took a seat. “Congratulations on the chancellorship.”

“I think you owe me a thank-you, at the very least.” She smiled wryly. “It cost me the better part of my wealth.”

Hiro returned the smile, but that was all. A faint awkwardness hung in the air between them—or perhaps it would have been more accurate to say Rosa was struggling to broach the matter of their long time apart.

Eventually, she sighed. “Forgive me. I am not usually so stiff, least of all with you.”

It was hard to blame her. She likely had a great many questions for him. Anger, sorrow, joy, and more were no doubt swirling in her chest. It was a wonder that she wasn’t hurling abuse at him. In the end, however, all she said was...

“I’m glad to see you are safe.”

For a second, he thought she had forgiven him, but no—this was a calculated move. Her face bore the resolute expression of a stateswoman. Perhaps he should have known. She was not the kind of person to throw childish tantrums; all of her actions were guided by practical consideration for the future. She had a liking for cornering others like a cat with a mouse. It was disconcerting to think that she was up to something, and a shiver crept up his spine as he wondered what it might be.

“More has happened in your absence than I could relate,” Rosa continued, “but I should tell you this: as far as the country knows, I am raising our child in secret.”

In truth, of course, no such child existed, but continuing the deception must have been necessary in order for her to claim the chancellorship. It was certainly the kind of move she would make. Nonetheless, unease still prickled at him.

“That makes sense, I suppose. If our child really did exist, a lot of people would be out for their life—”

Rosa cut him off with an impish grin. “The truth will come out sooner or later, but now that I’m chancellor, it shouldn’t be too damaging. I have control of the central and western territories, and most of the administration is under my thumb.”

“I’m glad—”

“As am I. I already have enough to worry about as it is.” Again, Rosa interrupted him. She seemed set on not letting him get a word in edgeways. “Anyway, seeing as you’re still alive and breathing, I do believe you owe me. I trust you won’t object?”

Her eyes flashed, and her voice took on a forceful edge. Here it was—she had cornered her prey. A drop of sweat trickled down Hiro’s cheek beneath his mask. He could have chosen to push back, but that would damage their relationship irreparably, which could become inconvenient in the future. Still, if he admitted wrongdoing now, Rosa would hold it over him for the rest of his life.

She snorted, seeing that he was intent on staying silent. “Well, as you like. But I will have my due.”

Her expression relaxed into something resembling compassion, although that was perhaps most terrifying of all. Still, there was little Hiro could say in his defense. It was, after all, true that he had betrayed her trust.

“On top of which,” she continued, “you owe me for today. Don’t think I’ll forget about that either.”

She was referring to the peace negotiations. Rosa had pulled out all the stops to ensure the talks went smoothly as mediator. Skadi believed she hadn’t noticed, but she had simply played the fool. Her reward had been putting Hiro in her debt—an account she now had called him here to settle.

“Ah, that’s right.” She paused, changing the subject. “I received a letter not long ago from High Consul Skadi.”

“What did it say?”

“That she means to implement the measures we agreed upon as soon as she returns to Steissen. Frankly, I was a little surprised she would take the time to tell me. You didn’t happen to have a hand in that, did you?”

“We talked a little, that’s all. I helped smooth out some of her concerns.” Hiro didn’t doubt that his evasiveness would inflame Rosa’s curiosity, but she only had two coins to trade: his debt and his betrayal. She would know better than to use either on something so minor. He smiled wryly. “So? What was it you wanted to talk about?”

Their conversation so far had been nothing more than a preamble—a ploy on Rosa’s part to situate herself on top. Her remark about Skadi had been an additional aside, thrown in to catch Hiro off guard and encourage him to relax his defenses. Perhaps she had hoped for him to reveal some vulnerability, but he wasn’t kindhearted enough to make that kind of concession.

“Before we get to that,” she said, “won’t you take that mask off?”

Hiro did as he was bidden. His mask lowered, baring his gentle features. He hadn’t changed a day from the way he had looked two years prior, save for his right eye. Rosa lowered her gaze sadly, perhaps taking note of that difference, but although she thought for a moment to say something, she bit it back and shook her head.

“I’d rather talk like this,” she said finally. “You feel so distant with it on.”

She smiled reassuringly, trying to lighten the mood, and crossed her arms, emphasizing her chest. It was the motion of an instinctive temptress. No doubt she knew her wiles were unlikely to work on him, but she still weaponized her body to its fullest extent.

“Well,” she said, “to the point. There’s a matter I want your help with.”

“What kind of matter?”

“I want you to assist in the recapture of Faerzen.”

Hiro fell silent for a moment, thinking. “And what’s in it for me, exactly?”

If he were willing to let sentiment guide his decisions, there would be nothing stopping him joining the Faerzen offensive, but there was no benefit to be found there for Baum. It was first and foremost a battle to reclaim the empire’s pride. Besides, Baum had no ambition to expand its territory. It would have no use for a share of another nation’s territory, especially one as distant as Faerzen.

Well, that’s not entirely true. I do have a more personal interest in visiting...

Still, Rosa could not possibly have known about that. She must have been looking to spend one of her two coins—or so Hiro thought, anyway, but his expectations were misplaced.

“I’m prepared to offer trustworthy labor,” she said. “You’re building something outside of Natua, aren’t you? As soon as you volunteered to take in those dwarves from Steissen, everything clicked into place.”

Her eyes took on a predatory gleam, and he wordlessly motioned for her to continue.

“You’ve borrowed mines from Lichtein too, I hear. You profited rather handsomely from Steissen’s civil war. I felt sorry for you at first, being called in to mediate for little gain, but the more I looked into it, the more I realized Baum was the greatest beneficiary of all.”

“I should have known. There’s no fooling you, is there?” It would have been easy, if undignified, to play dumb, but that would have meant abandoning their negotiations. He spread his arms proudly, his smile widening. “If you’ve worked out that much, there’s no point hiding it. Yes, I’m in need of workers and craftsmen—or rather, I was until today, but I’ve solved that problem now. I don’t need the empire’s help any longer.”

Rosa gave an amused chuckle. “We both know that by all rights, you ought to be the one coming to me. There’s no need to play these games. Why don’t you come clean?”

There was no telling exactly how much she knew, but it seemed she at least had a good grasp of Baum’s domestic situation. The past two years had seen an enormous increase in traffic in and out of the country. She must have gotten the intelligence from traveling merchants. Hiro had believed he had screened them carefully, but evidently the process had room for improvement. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to blame them. The only person he was angry with was himself for misjudging his opponent.

“Very well. No more bluffing.”

Letting that information slip had been a mistake on his behalf—one that required correction. The best way to get his plans back on track would be to let her in on them. Once she was involved, there would be no turning back, but—he glanced at her face—she seemed prepared for that. In that case, there was no harm in making her an accomplice.

“We’re low on resources. If you can help us with that and our shortage of manpower, Baum will cooperate with the empire however you see fit. If that includes recapturing Faerzen, so be it. You will have Baum’s—no, my personal unreserved support.” Hiro paused for a moment. The corners of his mouth pulled into a smile. “And if the name of Surtr would help you pacify the north, it’s yours to use.”

Rose’s eyes widened a little, but a wicked smile soon spread across her face. She seemed to have grasped his intent. “Then I think we have a deal. Oh, and I’ll see if I can’t put a word in with somebody to fast-track those imports from Lebering. They’re mostly just tea leaves anyway. Hardly worth taking the time to inspect.”

“I’d appreciate that. I’ll send you a civil tribune once I have everything written down.” Hiro stood up and turned toward the door.

As he made to leave, Rosa spoke again. “My dear,” she said, “I am the chancellor now. The chancellor of the Grantzian Empire. I may not have strength of arm, but I do have rank. I understand that you could not rely on me two years ago, but I am no longer the person I once was. You need not carry your burdens alone.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.” With a small nod, Hiro put his mask back in place.

“Liz would say the same if she were here. She has become much more beautiful in these past two years, and much more courageous. Indeed...” Rosa took a deep breath, pausing as though about to make a momentous declaration. “I would dare to say she has grown stronger than you.”

The words hung in the air. There was no telling what Rosa had seen in him today that had led her to that conclusion, but she seemed to believe it.

Hiro opened his mouth, looked up at the ceiling for a moment, then lowered his eyes to the floor. “As she should. I’m glad to hear it.”

“Pay her a visit while you’re in Faerzen. You’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

Rosa pursed her lips, seemingly put out by his lack of enthusiasm. She sank back into her chair, eyes fixed on his back, but as he made to walk away again, her face lit up with devilish inspiration.

“Well?” she asked. “Do you mean to stay the night?”

“I... What?” Hiro looked back, for once caught off guard.

Rosa grinned like a child who had just pulled off a prank. “My offer has not yet expired.”

“Not tonight. There will be watchful eyes on us.” Hiro gestured to the eyeholes of his mask.

Rosa expelled a disappointed sigh. “The archpriestess. Of course. Well, I have no interest in entertaining voyeurs. I suppose this pleasure must be saved for another day.”

“Thank you for understanding. Now, I should be going. I don’t want anyone getting suspicious of my absence.”

“Of course. Until we meet again.” There was a note of kindness in Rosa’s voice.

Hiro stepped outside the room and shut the door behind him. The corridor was lit by a candlestand, burning valiantly even if it could not fully dispel the gloom, yet there was one place where its light did not fall. Hiro turned toward that roiling patch of darkness.

“You’re still here, I see.”

The darkness swirled in answer. After a moment, a familiar woman emerged: the archpriestess. She bowed her head, her expression grave. “I have decided to delay my departure until tomorrow, Lord Surtr. There was something I wished to discuss with you.”

“Should we speak in my chambers?” Seeing her wary demeanor, he scanned the vicinity for signs of others. He sensed nothing out of the ordinary, but the archpriestess was more skilled at detecting such things.

“I do not believe that would be necessary. Nobody is listening now. More to the point, I do not have much time to spare.”

He had little choice but to believe her. Certainly, time was scarce, and besides, he trusted her eyes more than his own misgivings. He leaned against the wall and regarded her. “All right, then. Let’s hear it.”

The archpriestess straightened up. “Lady Celia Estrella is showing signs of awakening,” she said, audibly choosing her words with care. “I do not believe it will be long.”

“Nor do I. That’s nothing to worry about, though. If anything, we should be pleased.”

“I saw that you intend to ride to Faerzen, my lord. Perhaps you ought to take the chance to meet with her and ascertain her condition for yourself.”

So she had indeed been spying on his meeting with Rosa. She admitted it so readily that it was hard to chide her. If anything, she seemed not to regret her actions whatsoever, which Hiro had to admit he found pleasantly honest.

He shook his head with a wry smile. “I don’t need to check up on every little thing.” He was curious as to what exactly she would inherit, but there was no need to ascertain that for himself. The last of his concerns had already been dispelled. “At least I know one thing for certain now,” he added.

“And what is that?”

“That she has the blood of von Grantz. She’s Artheus’s rightful heir.” Hiro eased himself off the wall, his smile widening. His mantle fluttered as he turned away. “I suppose it’s time for me to leave for Faerzen. I place matters in your care while I’m gone.”

The archpriestess bowed deep as he began to stride away. “As you command, my lord. May you wield your might as you see fit.”

Her voice trailed with concern, apprehension, and exhaustion, but she did not try to stop him. She understood that he would not be halted by delicately worded persuasions. Besides, he already knew what worried her so—for better or for worse, there were people in Faerzen whom he cared for deeply.

“Of course,” he said. “I have a debt to repay.”

＊＊＊＊＊

The fourth day of the ninth month of Imperial Year 1026

Summer was coming to an end, but the sun remained as strong as during the season’s height. The west was said to be cooler in clime than the central territories, but the difference was so scant that only a handful could feel it. Summer was summer, winter was winter, and a small variance in temperature meant little to a brow full of sweat. The bigger difference between the regions was industry. While the central territories were an agricultural breadbasket, the west made its living from the production of cotton and sesame. It also reared fine horses, and many of the stagecoaches on the empire’s roads were western-made.

There was one other significant difference between the west and the central territories: the west maintained a border with other nations, with no natural barriers to act as a defense. Skirmishes were common. Accordingly, a number of forts had been erected along the border, with great citadels serving as vigilant guardians of the nation’s soil. Delshia Citadel was one such location. The formidable structure stood on the border with Faerzen, acting as a linchpin of the empire’s defensive line. At present, it served as a critical location in the coming Faerzen offensive.

It was on the fourth day of the month that Liz arrived at the citadel’s gates. The townsfolk gave her a hero’s welcome, and nobles lined up to give her their regards. A festive atmosphere hung over the city. In the war room, however, the mood was far more somber.

“Aura, Scáthach, it’s good to see you again. How have you been?” Liz flashed the pair a smile as she entered the room. Her arrival swept away the despondent air, turning it into something far more relaxed. “Have you grown, Aura?”

Aura pouted. “Not an inch.”

As she said, her stature had not changed at all in the past two years. One might have suspected she had dwarven blood. It was hard to believe she was older than Liz. Her uniform was too large for her, even though it was supposedly fitted for a woman, leaving her sleeves flopping over her hands. Naturally, the jackets did not come in children’s sizes, but while the idea had been floated that she could specially commission one, she claimed to prefer the one she had. She wanted sleeves with some breathing room, she said, as she was sure to grow into them eventually.

Smiling a little at the glimpse of Aura’s childish side, Liz turned to Scáthach. “Are you all right? You look a little unwell.”

A shadow seemed to hang over the woman—a gloom that set her apart from those around her. “Not to my knowledge,” she said. “Why do you ask?” She feigned a laugh and forced a weak smile, doubtless trying to convince Liz there was nothing to worry about.

Liz was on the point of pressing further, but then she noticed Aura staring at her curiously. Her eyes must have been acting up again. She shook her head to clear her mind and smiled back. “Not to worry. I must be imagining things.”

Scáthach gave a harsh chuckle. “My family’s restoration is at last on the horizon, lest you forget. This is no time to feel sorry for myself. If anything, I have never been in higher spirits.”

The words came out just a little too quickly; evidently, something was preying on her mind. The others didn’t seem to have cottoned on, but it was clear to Liz that she was hiding something. Then she moved to conceal it, and with a slight shift the abnormality was gone, leaving Liz wondering if it had ever been there at all.

“I’m sure you are. You’re on the verge of seeing your dream fulfilled.”

Scáthach looked down, away from Liz’s searching gaze, and folded her arms. “Well, I cannot say I have no reservations.”

Whatever she was hiding, she was doing her utmost to prevent Liz from sensing it. Knowing her stubborn temperament, probing any deeper could be dangerous. It might even risk her closing off her heart entirely.

This, Liz decided, would be better discussed when they were alone. She switched gears and returned her attention to Aura. “Have you found our way into Faerzen?”

“Not yet. It’s challenging. Six Kingdoms is shipping more resources east than ever.”

Six Kingdoms had previously focused its efforts on the west of Faerzen, but in recent weeks, it had begun transporting resources to the east, clamping down on criminal activity, and rebuilding destroyed townships. Its efforts were steadily accumulating support from the people.

“Still, there might be a way around.” Aura turned and walked over to a nearby table, where several aides were already standing at attention.

Liz split off from Aura and walked to the head of the table. As she reached her chair, she turned and swept her gaze over the aides. They bowed stiffly, anxiety clear on their faces. Liz returned the bow and took her seat.

Once everybody was seated, Aura leaned over the map in the middle and pointed out Senan, a region under the control of the kingdom of Tigris. “Tigris is ruled exclusively by álfar,” she said. “They dislike humans the most out of any of the kingdoms. That’s true in Faerzen too. They’re arrogant rulers, and popular resistance has been particularly strong in their territories.” Aura’s voice was as impassive as ever as she outlined the situation. “Six Kingdoms has tried to resolve the problem by bringing in a new commander from Anguis, but it isn’t going well. The chain of command is in disarray.”

“Which gives us an opportunity,” Liz mused. “Have the people of Senan reached out to us?”

“To the Faerzen Resistance. That’s enough to give us just cause. We’ll advance through Canan and into the rest of Faerzen.” Aura placed a new pawn on the map and turned back to Liz. “I’ve given the thirty thousand men of the first army to High General von Cain. He’s begun the assault with the help of the Faerzen Resistance. A report came last night. He’s already liberated three forts and two towns.”

A concern arose in Liz’s mind as she listened. She ran her gaze across the map, looking for an answer. “When did General von Cain depart?”

“Six days ago.”

And in those six days, he had taken three forts and two towns, equivalent to half of Senan. That was astonishingly fast, even for a high general.

“Did he encounter no resistance?”

Aura shook her head. “The enemy ran at the sight of the first army. He ordered a cautious advance in case they had left any traps behind, but he hasn’t encountered anything yet.”

It wasn’t uncommon for a commander to offer their enemy easy victories in order to inflate their confidence. Such strategies existed. It meant allowing the foe to gain momentum, but it also made them careless, potentially inducing errors. Even a high general would struggle to recover if they were caught off guard in that way. Perhaps it would be better to stop the advance and scout ahead.

At that point, Aura’s words from earlier passed through Liz’s mind. “They don’t want to fight for humans, do they?” she asked.

Senan was very far from Tigris. The kingdom would not have developed an attachment to it in two years. What was more, the commander of their forces was a replacement from Anguis; the proud álfar would be unlikely to give their lives in combat when the order came from a human. Even if their disdain did not go that far, the extended chaos in the chain of command still lent credence to Liz’s theory.

Aura nodded, looking oddly satisfied. “Correct. There’s no trap. The first army doesn’t need to worry about its rear, so I’ve ordered them to engage the Tigris forces as they encounter them. I’ll dispatch the second army today and the third in two days’ time. In a month, we’ll capture Skye, the old capital. With the east under our control, we can set our sights on the west.” She placed pawn after pawn on the map as she spoke. “We’re racing against time, so I’ve reorganized our supply lines to optimize distance. The old roads will come in useful to bait the enemy.”

As Aura’s explanation concluded, Liz ran the plan through her mind to check for flaws.

Aura watched, looking faintly proud. “I expect them to abandon the east,” she said.

The eastern half of Faerzen had always been the more disorderly and less stable. If it threatened to become a burden, Six Kingdoms would cut it off like a dead limb, and if they anticipated a drawn-out conflict, they would use it as a buffer zone to hold the empire at bay while they marshaled their forces and readied a counteroffensive.

Liz cast a sympathetic glance at Scáthach before replying. “Probably, yes. From what I’ve heard, they’ve left it unattended so far, and it’ll be even less appealing now that it’s a battlefield. They might have committed resources, but their losses will be small if they cut them now.”

In light of that, the empire would have to commit to maintaining order and improving public safety if it intended to rule. The commonfolk would not return to Senan if it became a hive of bandits and brigands, and a popular revolt would undo everything they were working to achieve.

“The people of Faerzen are reaching their breaking point,” Aura said. “We have to make this campaign as quick and efficient as possible. Otherwise, it might cause problems for the empire in the future.”

Once Aura had finished, Liz turned to Scáthach with a grave expression. “Let me ask you one last time,” she said, drawing her words out to give her as much time as possible to think. “Are you sure you don’t have any second thoughts about our agreement?”

“None. I am committed to my course.” Scáthach gave a firm nod. A rueful smile spread across her face. “I may be the last of the royal line, but I would usher in my family’s killers. Nobody would accept me as a queen. I had intended to yield the throne in any case.”

That was the condition upon which Scáthach had secured the empire’s aid. The lion of Soleil did not wage war for charity. It fed on gold—and if Scáthach did not possess the wealth to fund the offensive, all she had left to pay with was her rank. Accordingly, she had agreed that once the fighting was done, she would renounce the throne and install some distant relative in her place, effectively handing control of Faerzen to the empire. Nothing less would have persuaded the empire’s nobles to lend their assistance.

“Very well,” Liz said. “Then I’ll do everything in my power to restore Faerzen.”

She had to cast aside her sympathy, no matter how bitter it might be. Those who sought the throne of the empire could not allow themselves to be swayed by sentiment.

“You have my thanks,” Scáthach said. “And my unreserved cooperation.”

Liz searched for words as the woman bowed her head, but she found nothing to say.

＊＊＊＊＊

“So the empire has struck at Tigris? Interesting.” Lucia’s eyes narrowed with amusement as she listened to the report. “The imperials understand one thing, ’twould seem. They must strike at the álfar first.”

“This is no laughing matter, Your Majesty. The east of Faerzen finally looked to have stabilized, and now this.” Despite the admonishment, Seleucus—Lucia’s handsome young retainer—seemed to be finding his own enjoyment in the situation. If she listened carefully, she could make out just a hint of schadenfreude in his voice. “The imperial forces have momentum on their side, it seems. It would be fair to say that half of the east is already under their control.”

“Leaving Tigris scattering, no doubt.”

“As you say. Although Tigris’s actions confuse me. Why take control of Senan only to give it up? Surely they have invested no small amount of coin in the east.”

It was understandable that Seleucus might raise an eyebrow, but Lucia saw Tigris’s reasoning. Fleeing might appear cowardly in the short term, but it was the wiser choice in the long term. There was no point wasting soldiers on a battle that could not be won. Better to retreat, even if it meant humiliation, and await a chance at revenge. More to the point, not enough time had passed for them to have put down meaningful roots in Faerzen, and the coin they had invested would hardly bankrupt them. They had weighed lives against gold and found the former more valuable.

“What do we know of the empire’s numbers?” she asked.

“The current offensive consists of four armies: the first, the second, the third, and the core. The first army has thirty thousand soldiers and the second forty thousand, for a total of seventy thousand men. The third army and the core remain in reserve. Their overall numbers are unknown, but we may expect them to exceed a hundred thousand.”

“Quite the force they have assembled.”

The scale of the empire’s lands and population gave it a significant advantage in warfare. Watching them field such numbers a scant two years after suffering crushing losses, it was hard not to feel a little jealous—especially with Six Kingdoms’ own forces in such disarray.

“No doubt they have judged they can afford to give us their full attention now that affairs in Steissen have settled. The eastern territories have supplied the most soldiers, but southern troops make up a close second.”

“The time for watching and waiting has passed, ’twould seem.”

Six Kingdoms could no longer afford to sit on its hands. If nothing was done, every city in Faerzen would soon be flying imperial colors. That said, with the other kingdoms in their current uncoordinated state, Lucia’s forces would easily be isolated and picked off. There was no point in trying to assist Tigris if its soldiers were still on the run. She would be sending her men to pointless deaths, and she could ill afford that. No, Anguis would have to hold back until Tigris sent a request for reinforcements, but that was unlikely to come—they were rival kingdoms, for one thing, but more pressingly, the proud álfar would be loath to turn to humans for aid. Even in a crisis, the divisions between their peoples seemed to supersede common sense, a fact that caused her endless frustration.

“’Tis vexing, but we have no choice but to wait. Dispatch a messenger to Tigris, at least.”

“I will see it done, Your Majesty. Also, while information is scarce, you may be interested to know that the king of Baum has been seen making for the empire’s western border.”

“Oh?” A face flashed across Lucia’s mind: the face of the fourth prince who had eluded her two years ago. The timing of his feigned death coincided almost precisely with the rise of Baum’s mysterious new king. Most likely, the two were one and the same.

“If he means to join the war effort, and his movements suggest he does, that may pose trouble for us. Anybody who impresses him will earn the favor of the archpriestess. No doubt the empire’s nobles will be tripping over themselves at the chance to better their fortunes...and the other nations of Soleil will be cursing their luck.”

Baum was a country blessed by the Spirit King. Interfering in its affairs would mean incurring a Lord’s wrath, and it possessed great influence in Soleil. No nation would be so foolish as to think to invade it—or the empire, now that the two were working together—in the ongoing chaos. For the time being, the rest of Soleil would have to wait and see how events played out.

“I also ought to mention,” Seleucus continued, “the empire has fielded the Knights of the Golden Lion, the Knights of the Royal Black, and the Knights of the Rose. They appear to have fully committed to retaking Faerzen.”

“Indeed.”

That was a great deal of military might to bring to bear for the sake of a war-torn wasteland. True, Faerzen would be a profitable land to hold once restored to its former glory, but that would take decades, not years. The empire might have had a righteous claim to it, but Lucia could not for the life of her see why they had levied so many men just to take it back.

“Is something the matter, Your Majesty?”

“Not as such. I wonder only what the empire truly intends.”

“To retake Faerzen, surely?”

“No, there must be more.”

Lucia tapped her fan against the map, stroking her chin. She imagined herself in the empire’s position, the better to understand its intent. Over and over she placed pawns on the map, checking their locations against her stack of reports, before removing them again and starting from scratch. Seleucus watched, wide-eyed, as she worked.

At last, she halted, brushed all of the pawns to the floor, and settled back into her chair. “’Tis an invasion they plan. They hope their momentum will carry them into Six Kingdoms.”

“Surely not, Your Majesty. Faerzen alone would leave them with a veritable mountain of administrative tasks, to make no mention of how far they would have to stretch their supply lines.”

“They have assembled over a hundred thousand soldiers, taken their finest troops into the fray, and even brought the king of Baum in tow. I am quite certain. Faerzen alone would not satisfy them.”

Seleucus gulped apprehensively. He looked at the map, unable or unwilling to believe. If what Lucia was saying was true, Six Kingdoms had been lured into an extremely perilous position.

“They do not mean to lay waste to all of Six Kingdoms, of course,” Lucia continued. “Greif, for instance, is shielded by the Travant Mountains. No, if I were them, I would occupy Esel and make it my shield while I consolidated control of Faerzen.”

“And if Six Kingdoms were to lose Esel...”

“Quite. It would be split down the middle. Greif and Anguis would be stranded, alone in the north.”

Six Kingdoms’ federated nature was its greatest strength. The kingdoms would be far weaker if they could not work as one. None had the resources to face the empire alone.

“Now that I think about it,” Lucia mused, “’tis perhaps only because we were shielded by Faerzen that we have lasted as long as we have.”

“Your Majesty...” Seleucus seemed to have finally grasped the full implications of the situation. He stared at the map, his usual irreverent smile nowhere to be seen. “Am I correct in thinking this bodes ill?”

Lucia could not help but laugh. “Indeed it does. If we leave it untended.”

In the worst case, Tigris might choose to abandon Faerzen entirely. The álfar were mercurial, but decisive when they chose to act, and they would not want to sully the purity of their blood by mingling with barbarians. That alone would be enough to convince them to withdraw, and if that happened, other kingdoms would likely follow. Only Greif, which hosted the High King, and Esel, which bordered Faerzen, were guaranteed to remain, and the fall of Esel would foretell poor things for Anguis.

“Anguis’s, Greif’s, and Esel’s forces combined would hardly make fifty thousand, and even then, they are scattered across Faerzen.”

If the empire were to learn how vulnerable Six Kingdoms truly was, they would press the attack all the harder. Indeed, perhaps they already knew. That might very well be the reason for the current onslaught.

“There can only be one reason the empire has brought more than a hundred thousand to bear,” she said conclusively. “They mean to defeat us once and for all.”

“Even so, we will have little chance of victory if we try to face them by ourselves,” Seleucus cautioned.

“Oh, no doubt. Not without a plan, in any case.”

Lucia fell silent, thinking. Several schemes were already swirling around her brain. What she needed now was a way to ensure the survival of Six Kingdoms—or more specifically, she corrected herself, a way to convince the álfar infesting it to take the current threat seriously. All the better if it left her with the upper hand. This was a chance to ingratiate herself with the High King, and she could not afford to waste it. She pored over all of the information she had on hand, turning it over as if untangling a knot, until at last it came undone and she had her answer.

“Two plans present themselves,” she said briskly, tapping her fan on the table. “First, I shall buy us time while we write to Nameless for reinforcements.”

“I shall dispatch a messenger forthwith,” Seleucus said. “But if I may, how do you mean to buy time? I doubt Tigris, Scorpius, or Vulpes will be eager to lend their aid.”

All three kingdoms were ruled by álfar. Most of their territories lay in the east of Faerzen, and they had uniformly opted to abandon them without resistance. If Lucia commanded them to stand and fight, they would simply ignore her. Regardless, she intended to turn the situation to her advantage as much as she was able.

“If the empire is so eager for Faerzen’s soil, I say we let them claim as far as Skye.”

Tigris, Scorpius, and Vulpes could only flee so far. That limit was Skye, Faerzen’s old capital and the gateway to its western half. At present, the best course was to let them fall back there, hopefully drawing in the imperial forces in the process.

“Once that is done, we shall move to waylay their armies.” Lucia gestured to Anguis’s territory with her fan.

An amused smile spread across Seleucus’s face; he seemed to have guessed her intent. “You mean to use the people of Faerzen.”

“Indeed. Spread word among the commonfolk that the empire is repeating its old atrocities. Our armies are useless without a casus belli, and the people will not follow us unless we are on the side of righteousness.”

“I presume we shall gather our forces while the enemy is delayed?”

“But of course. Faerzen is wide, after all. The empire’s momentum avails them now, but the moment they slow, a myriad of annoyances will sap their strength.”

“Understood, Your Majesty. I will see to it at once.” Seleucus nodded, apparently satisfied, but then a thought seemed to strike him and he cocked his head. “You said you had two plans, Your Majesty?”

“Ah, yes, the other. A fail-safe, nothing more.” Lucia looked not at Seleucus as she spoke, but up at the ceiling. Her lips curled, giving her a sultry look—a challenge, perhaps, to someone who was not there.

Seleucus sighed. He was used to Lucia’s tendencies by now. “A fail-safe, Your Majesty?”

Lucia gave a throaty chuckle. With her eyes lidded, she looked for all the world like a snake that had caught sight of a mouse. The sight was almost as intimidating to her allies as it would have been to her enemies, and Seleucus shivered with a sudden chill as she lowered her gaze to him once more.

“Do you recall that new assistant? Mary, I believe her name was.”

“Ah, the capable one. I believe so.”

“Is she with you today?”

“I had her serving food today. Do you have some need of her?”

“Tell her she is to come by my chambers this evening.” Lucia’s tongue snaked out to wet her lips. There was no need to ask what she intended. Only prey could have earned this kind of fascination.

“I will pass the message on at once.”

“Ha ha ha... Oh, what fun we shall have together.” Lucia’s chuckle swelled into shameless gales of belly-clutching laughter. “Ha ha ha ha, ha ha ha... How delicious her fear shall be!”

Her voice rang free and unopposed through the halls, vulgar, cruel, and dark.

＊＊＊＊＊

The cloak of night lay over the world. A thick blanket of clouds obscured both the moon and the stars. It would rain tomorrow, Huginn thought as she arrived at the mansion.

“Evenin’, Miss Mary,” said the sentry at the door, using the name she had assumed while undercover. “What brings you here so late?”

Huginn jumped and turned to face him. She had not expected to be stopped on her way in. “I-I’ve been called in by the mistress,” she stammered. “Weren’t you told?”

“Oh, just pullin’ your leg, miss. I’ve heard all about it. You’re free to go in.”

“Erm...would you mind opening the door?”

Typically, the sentry would have opened it for her, but today, he simply stood there, regarding her with an unpleasant leer. The hairs prickled on the back of her neck. It was like he was undressing her with his eyes.

“Of course. Beggin’ your pardon. The mistress will see you now.”

There was something oddly affected about the way he was acting, as if he knew something she didn’t. Huginn stepped through the door, frowning. As she did, something grasped her buttocks.

“Eek!” She spun around with a shriek.

“Whoops. Sorry, miss.” The sentry was looking at her lecherously, cheeks reddened, practically drooling. “Went to close the door and, well...my hand must have slipped.”

Huginn was of half a mind to punch him squarely in his slack-jawed face, but she just barely restrained herself. “Oh, you! Be more careful next time, okay?”

A vein throbbed on her forehead as she spoke, but she managed to force a smile before continuing inside the building.

“That little rat. If I ever meet him on the field, I’ll put an arrow right between his rotten eyes.” She stormed along the corridor, the torches on the walls sending deep shadows dancing across her face. “And what’s with this stupid getup?! How could anyone work with all this lace hanging off ’em?!”

A look down at her frilly uniform prompted an exaggerated pout. She made her way down the corridor, pulling at the frills so hard they might tear free at any moment. Eventually, footsteps ahead prompted her to straighten up. There were guards ahead on patrol. She drew to the side and smiled as they passed.

“Good evening! Good luck on patrol!” Her professional voice was so sickly sweet, it was all she could do not to gag.

“Evenin’, miss,” one said. “Workin’ late again tonight, I see.”

“The empire’s crossed the border, I hear,” the other added. “You’d be better off heading home while you can. Although I s’pose nowhere’s safe in Faerzen...”

The pair continued down the hall. Huginn had gotten to know a great many soldiers while undercover in Anguis, and she privately hoped she wouldn’t have to face them on the battlefield. She had no intention of showing her enemies any mercy, but while being forced to kill acquaintances wasn’t unusual in her line of work, that didn’t make it any more pleasant or easier to get used to. Now, again, once her work here was done she would go to war, as likely as not against the men she had just passed.

“Always best to move on before you can get too attached...but no such luck this time, seems like.”

She had been in Anguis too long already. On top of that, in her capacity as Queen Lucia’s assistant, she had grown familiar with most of the mansion’s retainers.

“What should I do? His Lordship said to get out if I think I’m in danger, but I’m not about to go back empty-handed...”

No doubt Hiro would welcome her warmly whether or not she came back with results, but she didn’t want to return to Baum without bringing him something he could use. Such intelligence was not easy to come by, however—getting hold of it would require taking the kinds of risks that he would certainly not approve of. The result was that her mission was dragging on with no end in sight, and it was driving her to distraction.

She was still wrestling with her thoughts when she arrived at her destination. “I don’t like dealing with her,” she muttered. “Not one bit. Wonder if she’d mind if I didn’t show...”

From the moment they had first met, everything about Lucia had rubbed Huginn the wrong way. Her eyes glinted with a wicked light, something cold and reptilian, and her smile never quite reached them. For a time, Huginn had worried that her cover was blown, but it seemed not; Lucia simply did not truly smile for anyone, friend or foe.

“Let’s get this over with,” she grumbled.

She knocked three times. There was no reply from within. Nonetheless, the doors swung silently open.

“Erm...Mistress Lucia? Are you there?”

Huginn peered inside, but the room was dark. The wavering light of the candle on the desk seemed especially bright in the gloom. A chill ran up her spine as she stepped hesitantly inside.

“Hello? Mistress Lucia?”

Something felt immediately wrong. She broke out in a cold sweat. A shivering fit overtook her, so strong that she couldn’t move a single step. It felt like she was a mouse caught in the glare of a snake, but there was nobody else in the room to exert that kind of pressure. She felt her throat grow dry and loosened her collar to relieve some of the warmth building up inside.

At that moment, there was a loud noise behind her.

“Eek!”

She spun around with a genuine scream. The door had slammed shut, although there was no wind inside the mansion. The feeling of wrongness intensified. Anybody else might have lost their wits and descended into hysterics, but Huginn took a deep breath to regain her composure. She had to leave immediately, summons be damned. She sensed that she was now fighting for survival. An instant’s hesitation could end her life.

Reality, however, was not always so kind as to provide an escape.

“My, my.” The voice issued from somewhere behind her ear. “What combat instincts my handmaiden has.”

“Wha—”

She reacted quickly, hiking up her skirt and reaching for the blade stowed beneath. She drew as she spun, unleashing a slash at lightning speed. The attack was almost too fast to see, but it was not enough.

“How...?”

The dagger’s blade lodged in the floorboards, shorn clean from the hilt. As Huginn stared at it in shock, a crushing force closed around her throat, squeezing down on her windpipe. Before she knew what was happening, she was pinned to the wall, the bewitching features of Lucia du Anguis looming in front of her.

“Now,” Lucia said, “I have a question for you. ’Twould be wise to answer truthfully.”

“Wh-Who told you...? Ngh!” A disconcerting noise issued from Huginn’s chin. The bone had begun to creak, as if it had been trapped in a vise. The pain was agonizing, but Lucia’s grip left her powerless to do any more than groan.

“Who was it that sent you? The empire, perhaps? Or was it Baum?”

“You’ll...get nothing...out of me!”

“Well, well. A spy with some spine. Perhaps losing an arm might loosen your tongue?” Lucia lifted Huginn up by the jaw and drove her against the wall. “I do have a fondness for spirited maidens, ’tis true, but they ought not to test my patience.”

She released Huginn’s neck, only to grasp her uniform collar and smash her into the floor. Air exploded from Huginn’s lungs. She stared back at Lucia, red-faced and gasping for breath, but her will was unbroken.

“You’re made of sterner stuff than most, ’twould seem.” Lucia brought her heel down on Huginn’s stomach as she flicked open her fan. The smile slid from her face, and she looked down with cold, hard eyes. “But fear not. Your resilience shall not go unpunished. You shall entertain my soldiers until you are more willing to talk.”

Huginn squirmed, trying to free herself, but Lucia’s foot did not move an inch.

“You shall be my entertainment for this evening. Do try not to break too easily.”

＊＊＊＊＊

The seventeenth day of the ninth month of Imperial Year 1026

The province of Faerzen had once been a nation powerful enough to stand shoulder to shoulder with the empire. With the bountiful Sea of Infini in the north fuelling a thriving seafood trade, Six Kingdoms to the west, and the Grantzian Empire to the east, it was a veritable crossroads between the two halves of Soleil that had once prospered through trade with both. Its defeat at the empire’s hands, however, had caused a breakdown in public order. Now, merchants tended to avoid it, and the fires of war had ravaged both its fertile lands and its people’s hearts. The onetime melting pot of languages and the bustling markets were no more. Its rolling plains had withered and died, leaving no trace of its former glory.

The fighting had been fiercest in Senan, where Faerzen bordered the empire. Again and again, war’s embers had scarred it, reducing the city of Nex to an ashen ruin. Once, it had been known as the gateway to Faerzen, rivaling the royal capital for glory. Now, its streets were deserted.

The city had fallen under the control of the imperial forces in recent days. Tents sprawled as far as the eye could see—the buildings made for poor shelter, as they were liable to collapse at any moment. At the nexus of the streets stood a mansion that had once belonged to the local lord. Two flags fluttered above it: the banner of the empire and the crimson lily of the sixth princess.

A short distance away rose a small hill overlooking the mansion. Before the city fell, it had been a park constructed for the pleasure of the nobility. The lord of Nex had reputedly been partial to the view of his house and its environs. After he fell in battle with the empire, his surviving family had been executed by House Krone upon that same rise, leading the commonfolk to dub it the Hill of Tears. None of the imperial troops had been willing to make camp on such an ill-omened spot, but the Crow Legion of Baum had been just daring enough—or just mad enough—not to object.

“Rest easy now. You have been revenged upon House Krone.” A chill night breeze brushed the back of Hiro’s neck as he laid a flower on the earth.

Luka approached from behind, her empty sleeve flapping in the wind. “Have you heard from Huginn?” she asked.

The torch in her hand pushed back the darkness enough to reveal her face. Her eyes were looking toward Hiro, but they seemed to be staring clean through him, fixed on something far away.

“Not yet. I’ve been holding off on contacting her for a little while. I was going to send word soon.”

Luka had been pressing him to contact Huginn almost every day since they had arrived in Faerzen. She seemed to have gotten it into her head that Huginn was her brother Igel reborn. How she had reached that conclusion, he could only speculate, but the attachment it bred was very real.

“And what if she is harmed in the meantime? You must send a messenger at once.”

“I’ve told her to maintain her cover unless absolutely necessary. She won’t have gotten into trouble.”

Muninn had a tendency to wander off and investigate on his own initiative, but Huginn followed orders to the letter. She would not have ignored such a direct instruction.

“She is in Lucia’s service, is she not?”

“What about it?”

“If that shrew harms a single hair on Huginn’s head, I will split her from tip to tail.”

Hiro smiled wryly but said nothing.

“What is so funny? Do you not fear for her?”

“Of course I do. For her, and Muninn, and all the rest. They’re out risking their lives for me. Not a day goes by when I don’t worry about them.”

Once a spy’s true identity was uncovered, their life was a candle in the wind. With the nations of Soleil constantly vying for supremacy, all were suspicious of the rest. Paranoid rulers would execute their most loyal subjects given half a reason. It was not difficult to imagine what treatment they might reserve for an agent of the enemy.

“She is the only one I worry for.” Luka stepped closer, casting her torch away as she grasped Hiro’s arm. “The rest can burn for all I care. I would not shed a tear.”

She glared up at him with eyes so fierce, it sent a chill down his spine. His arm creaked in her grip. She had always been unusually attached to Huginn, but he hadn’t realized she had become so dependent as to grow unbalanced. That was all the more reason not to confess the truth, but if he told her nothing, she might well venture off to Anguis’s territories by herself.

“All right.” There was a note of admonishment in his tone. “If you’re really that concerned, I’ll send a messenger as soon as I get the chance.”

Luka’s grip gently relaxed, but her eyes remained full of suspicion. “Give me your word.”

“I promise.” He gave a reassuring nod, smiling all the while.

She peered at him mistrustfully for a moment but finally relented, evidently reasoning the conversation would go nowhere if they simply glared at one another. “So?” she asked, changing the subject. “What brings you here?”

She hardly needed to ask. Below the hill sprawled the imperial encampment, arranged around the mansion where Liz had taken up temporary residence.

She followed his gaze and nodded in understanding. “The red-haired brat. I hear much of her even in Baum. In peacetime she would have been a beauty to lay kingdoms low, they say. I wonder how much truth there is to the tales.”

“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear,” Hiro said. “But in her case, they might be right.”

Whether Liz had grown as gallant as Artheus or as fiery as her mother, there was little question that the rumors were on the mark.

“I look forward to seeing for myself,” he continued, “although I’m more interested in how she’s grown inside than out.”

“You could see well enough if you cared to attend a strategy meeting.”

Not once had Hiro met Liz face-to-face since meeting up with the imperial forces in Faerzen. He had dispatched the commander of the Crow Legion to attend in his place, insisting that he was unwell.

“Why bother? Baum has already played its part. Now we’ll just let them assign us to some unit or other and take up the rear for a few weeks.”

That was not the only reason, of course. Hiro’s presence would likely cause discord in the imperial ranks. Many of the empire’s various generals and nobles regarded Baum with reverence, but more than a few viewed its interference as unwelcome. If he attended a meeting, someone would eventually ask his opinion, splitting the room into those who agreed and those who refused to acknowledge him. The campaign could do without that sort of conflict.

“I would prefer to stay back and watch—”

He cut himself off mid-sentence. A figure had just emerged from the mansion’s doors, her hair shimmering crimson in the torchlight. Only one woman in the empire bore that distinctive hue: Celia Estrella Elizabeth von Grantz, sixth princess of the empire and empress regent.

Luka’s eyes immediately snapped to her. She had seen her too. “Well, who’d have thought it? She’s grown almost too beautiful for words.”

Even her sharp tongue seemed to have lost its edge. It was rare to hear her utter such straightforward praise. Not that it was hard to see why: Liz’s beauty exceeded what she could ever have imagined.

“Is she truly human? From the way she carries herself, I would have thought her an álf.”

All of a sudden, Hiro’s eyes narrowed in the darkness. “Why...?”

“Hm?” She turned to look at him. “Is something amiss?”

He clapped a hand over his mouth, falling silent again. If she struck now, he would have no chance of survival—he was so distracted that she could easily take his life. Yet it was not Liz’s growth that seemed to have occupied his attention. His eyes had opened wide, as if confronted by a reality he did not want to face. It reminded Luka of herself in the moment she had watched her brother die.

“What is she doing here?” he whispered.

“Should she not be? Is she not whom you came to see?”

“No, that’s not... That’s not what I mean,” he muttered under his breath, but that was the extent of his answer.

His eyes took on a new intensity as he stared at Liz, his expression unreadable. That only lasted for so long, however. Liz turned her gaze up to the top of the hill. In a sudden fit of panic, Luka wrapped her arms around his head and pulled him down.

Almost immediately, the woman scowled at her own actions. “What is the use of hiding? I am being ridiculous. Surely she cannot see us, and what would I have to fear if she did?”

She moved to rise, only to stop as she caught a glimpse of Hiro’s face.

“No,” he said. “With her eyes, I’m sure she can see us quite well.”

“And what do you mean by that?”

“No normal person could pick out a human being on a moonless night. But her...”

Luka’s torch was lying where she had dropped it, snuffed out by the mud. The only other light source was the Crow Legion’s camp, but it was too far away to catch them in its glow. What was more, the moon lay behind a thick layer of cloud. By all rights, Hiro and Luka should have been ghosts, but Liz had spotted them without any difficulty.

“There’s no mistake.” Hiro whispered. “She’s finally coming into her own.”

＊＊＊＊＊

“What’s wrong?” Aura asked.

“I thought I sensed something outside.”

“A spy?”

“Just the wind in the grass, it turned out.” Liz turned back to face her friend, smiling bashfully.

“An impressive enough thing to sense on its own,” Scáthach remarked as she stepped outside. She cast a glance at the Hill of Tears, nodded to herself in seeming comprehension, and turned to Liz with a searching look in her eyes.

Liz looked away, feeling as if she was being probed. She herself was not certain what had compelled her to leave her seat so suddenly, but it was better to hide how deeply the incident had shaken her. Allowing her unease to show would only make Scáthach suspicious.

“Anyway,” she said, redirecting the conversation before it could go anywhere uncomfortable, “about what we were discussing before... Are you certain this is what you want?”

Scáthach would accompany the Crow Legion for the foreseeable future. The decision had come at her request; she had specifically asked to be allowed to part ways with the main force. Liz could more or less guess why. She and Aura were about to march to Skye, the former capital of Faerzen, which their spies reported had fared little better than Nex in the fighting. If anything, Liz had breathed a sigh of relief when Scáthach had asked to join Baum rather than come with them to the forlorn ruins of her old home.

“I am,” Scáthach replied. “Skye broke my heart when I saw it last, and the two years since have not been kind.”

With no king, no army, and no inhabitants, bandits and other common criminals had descended on the city. It was little surprise that Six Kingdoms had abandoned it. Designating a new capital was far less effort than repairing the burned-out buildings, restoring the looted palace, and recalling the townsfolk from wherever they had fled.

“To my shame,” she continued, “I would not trust myself to maintain my composure.”

Liz nodded but kept her silence. She had no right to offer her thoughts. The current state of Faerzen was, ultimately, the fault of the empire. Words of comfort would mean nothing coming from a member of its royal family. If she truly meant to make amends—both to Scáthach and to Faerzen—her attitude would speak louder than her voice, and her actions louder still.

“I’ll see you again,” she said, “once Faerzen is free.”

Their plans had changed since the early stages of the conflict. With the first and second armies making faster progress than expected, the empire would now advance through Faerzen on two fronts. The first and second armies would continue on to Skye, where Liz would meet them with the core, while the third army and the forces of Baum would circle around to the south and hem Anguis’s forces in. Once Liz and her forces had captured Skye, they would advance south, trapping Anguis in a vise. In theory, that would wipe them out, chasing Six Kingdoms from Faerzen entirely.

“Thank you for accompanying me this far,” Scáthach replied. “Rest assured that I will spare no effort to see this through.”

“Baum seems happy enough to have you, but you’ll still be in an unfamiliar environment. Take care not to push yourself.”

“I appreciate your concern, but the same goes for you. You and Aura do not know these lands as I do. Do not neglect to take care of yourselves either.”

As Liz smiled, acknowledging the kindness of the gesture, a question crossed her mind. “If you don’t mind me asking, why Baum?”

Scáthach could easily have joined the third army, but she had chosen to accompany the Crow Legion instead. True, few of the commonfolk would lend her their ears given the current state of Faerzen, particularly those under Anguis’s rule in the west—insults were one thing, but she might easily find herself met with stones. Still, if the vanguard would be too taxing, she could have taken up the third army’s rearguard. That didn’t explain why she had joined the Crow Legion even farther behind.

“There is a matter I wish to discuss with Lord Surtr,” Scáthach said. “I would know what was on his mind two years ago. Well, closer to three now, I suppose.”

Liz had expected her to avoid the question, so the honest answer came as something of a surprise. “Well,” she said, “I hope you find the answers you’re looking for.”

She was curious about what Scáthach intended to discuss, but the woman was unlikely to divulge that much. There was nothing for it but to wish her well and trust she would reveal her secrets when the time was right. That was usually her way.

“But enough of that,” Scáthach said. “You said that your eye felt strange?”

That was right. They had been talking about that before Liz dashed outside, leaving the topic unresolved.

“Oh, yes. I was curious to know what you two thought.” Liz stepped back through the entrance and beckoned the others to follow. “Should we talk inside?”

With one last glance at the Hill of Tears, she closed the door behind her.

＊＊＊＊＊

The eighteenth day of the ninth month of Imperial Year 1026

Faerzen’s port city on the Sea of Infini had not escaped the effects of the imperial assault. The rule of law was nonexistent. For a time, pirate vessels had moored at the docks in broad daylight, ransacking the nearby towns as the desire took them. Now, however, even they had fled out to sea, leaving the streets abandoned. Corpses littered the bloodstained sands by the score—townsfolk who had been too slow to flee, judging by their clothing. The bodies were horribly mutilated, bearing scars suggestive of torture.

A figure walked briskly along the beach, unbothered by the stench of death. With a hood covering her face and a bell staff in her hands, she resembled a wandering pilgrim. Had an observer been present, they might have mistaken her for a clergywoman come to lay the dead to rest. Those more familiar with her would simply have called her Nameless.

She left the beach for firmer ground, where boulders made for treacherous footing. At last, she came to an ominous cavern whose depths lay in darkness. Any normal person might have turned back, but she strode in without hesitation. The inside was colder than a jail cell. A bestial howl echoed along the passage as if to warn away intruders, and the trickle of water down the stone walls only added to the eerie atmosphere. Nameless only smiled faintly beneath her hood. Her steps were so light she might have taken off skipping, like a child stealing away to a secret base.

At last, she came to a halt. A squat platform, like an altar, lay ahead. It was decorated with innumerable candles and strewn with bones, human, animal, and monster alike. Blood lay splattered around, not yet dried. In the middle of what must have been a massacre stood a gray-haired man, shackles clasped around his muscular limbs.

“Urrrgghh...”

A groan issued from his throat. His eyes darted about, unfocused. He strained against his chains but just as quickly fell limp, apparently exhausted. His skin was a deeper violet than any human’s could be. Indeed, he was not human—but nor was he a beast, and it would not have been entirely accurate to call him a monster either.

Nameless stepped forward. A gravelly crunch echoed through the cavern.

“So, you come at last.” The man’s deranged features reassumed an aspect of sanity. His eyes were still clouded as they swiveled to look at her, but reason glimmered in their depths once more.

“How do you feel?” the álf asked.

“Good enough. All the better for my feast.” He cast a glance at the bones strewn across the ground, drool dripping from his half-open mouth.

“I am pleased to hear it. This place was a fine choice, it seems.” Nameless nodded in approval to herself before tilting her head, her smile widening. “I will soon require your assistance. Do you think you’re ready?”

“As ready as I shall ever be. I will not lose myself as I did last time.”

“Splendid. And as luck would have it, I have just the opponent for you to test yourself against.” She struck the base of her staff against the ground. The chime of bells rang through the cavern, rousing a cloud of bats from the roof.

“A name I ought to know?”

“A high general of the Grantzian Empire: General von Cain. The one they call Stoutarm.”

The man expelled a sigh and snorted derisively. “Of the central territories. I recall. A man who thinks of naught but battle.”

“The perfect chance to test your mettle, wouldn’t you agree? And if you succeed, you will face the sixth princess.”

“She must have grown strong.”

“Oh, yes. More than you can imagine.” The certainty in Nameless’s voice left no room for doubt.

The man began to laugh, first quietly, then harder and harder. The chains trailing from his limbs rattled in a wild dance as tears streamed from his eyes. He seemed to have been waiting for this chance. “Aha... Ha ha ha ha ha! I would expect no less from the wielder of the crimson ruin... From the true heir to the holy blood of von Grantz!”

The joy slid from his face. All at once, he was expressionless once more. His dull eyes began to wander again, and more drool spilled from his mouth.

Nameless’s mouth curled into a grin at the sight. “Death is the only release for our poor cursed princess,” she said, her voice icy cold. “Grant it to her.”

The man fell silent for a moment, but at last he nodded obediently. “I will.”

Nameless drew up alongside him and, although there was nobody to overhear, brought her lips to his ear. “That is your part to play. You understand, I trust?”

“Of course, my dearest. For you, I will seek victory. For you, I will wring their necks, and to you, I will offer up their accursed souls!”

He began to struggle against his bonds. Nameless stepped back and looked up. The ceiling of the cavern was already beginning to crack beneath the weight of his strength. Dust and rocks fell from above in a ceaseless torrent.

“So you shall. Prove your might over the spirits’ curse and you shall ascend to a form truly without peer.”

As the words left her lips, the chains shattered. The man let loose a battle cry, a howl of madness born of fury, sorrow, and joy.

Glee spread across Nameless’s lips, deep, dark, and black. “Avenge us upon the house of von Grantz. Let the whole world know our rage.”

Laughter rang from two throats as the cavern began to crumble.

＊＊＊＊＊

The new royal capital of Faerzen was the city of San Dinalle in the southwest. The redesignation had been proposed and enacted by Six Kingdoms, but with most of Faerzen’s royal family and aristocracy either missing or dead in battle, none had been left to disagree. The Faerzen Resistance was not strong enough to have any sway, and with Skye long reduced to rubble, the commonfolk had shrugged and agreed with their new conquerors.

San Dinalle was Faerzen’s gateway to Six Kingdoms, and its proximity to the border with Esel had seen it develop at a rapid pace. Its prosperous surroundings could have belonged to a wholly different nation from the devastation in the east. The mansion of the city’s ruler was perpetually bustling with visitors, and the markets were so lively it was hard to believe there was a war not so far beyond the horizon.

The current ruler—and proprietress of the mansion—was Queen Lucia of Anguis, and she was sitting at her desk doing battle with a stack of reports. A nearby aide winced, watching the pile steadily grow as more parchment was carried in.

“I will have that witch’s head for this,” she muttered. “What demands her attention so much that she believes she can leave me her paperwork?”

“If I remember correctly,” the aide supplied, “Lady Nameless left to ascertain the security of the north.”

“Indeed she did, and since then, not a peep. One wonders whether she even understands what we face!” Lucia tossed her quill away and collapsed back into her chair. “Enough! Enough for today. I have an impending battle that demands my attention.”

With a wry smile, the aide laid a cup of tea in front of her. She sipped it in silence while the man set about clearing the desk. A glance confirmed that a letter was wedged in the stack of completed reports.

“Leave it,” she commanded. “Seleucus shall tend to that.”

She looked to the side, where a handsome young man was standing against the wall, daintily tending to his own cup of tea. With Seleucus’s permanent smile, many thought he never took anything seriously, but he was a competent commander, and there was a good reason he was known as Lucia’s right hand.

“You’ve delegated your duties for quite long enough, don’t you think?” Lucia indicated the papers with a thrust of her chin. “Once in a while, you ought to earn your keep.”

Seleucus raised his arms helplessly and sighed. He stepped away from the wall with a shake of his head and clapped the aide on the shoulder. “Get some rest. I’ll take care of this.”

“B-But, my lord, I couldn’t possibly ask you to—”

“I have to make myself useful sometime, or Her Majesty is liable to demote me.”

Seleucus all but snatched the stack from the aide, scooping it up in both arms. With a meaningful glance at Lucia, he headed for the door. Unfortunately, both of his hands were full. He tried to balance the pile of documents in one hand as he strained to grasp the handle with the other, but they fell to the floor in an avalanche of parchment. As he stared impassively at the carnage, the aide hurriedly set about picking up the mess.

Seleucus shot the man a smile. “A little too ambitious, I admit. Perhaps I could use your help after all.”

“As you command, my lord.”

As the pair restacked the documents, Seleucus stealthily stowed the letter away in his pocket. He stood and opened the door, looking for all the world like nothing was amiss. “We will take our leave now, Your Majesty. If you need anything in our absence, please send for the guards at the entrance.” With the aide in tow, he bowed and shut the door.

Left alone in the chamber, Lucia finished her cup of tea and stood up from her chair, then approached the window.

“How stands the board?”

The voice issued from behind her. She spun around to see Nameless standing by the wall, holding a cup of tea and a saucer.

The álf smiled broadly. “These are fine leaves you have in stock.”

Lucia was quick to recover from her surprise. She snapped open her fan and raised it to eye level. “Must you insist on appearing out of nowhere? One of these days, I might just die of fright.”

“It’s a habit of mine, I’m afraid. One not easily broken.” Nameless ran a loving hand along her bell staff. “My dear Trishula is so very fond of surprises. I have to indulge her from time to time or she will grow tired of me.”

Lucia scowled. “Would that she might.”

“What do you have to fear? Even if I were to catch you by surprise, your Mandala would keep you safe from harm.”

Lucia snorted. “From death, mayhaps. But I am not so foolish as to believe I would survive unscathed.”

Neither woman had any chance of goading the other into revealing something compromising. Their relationship was too superficial for that, and both knew it. There was no point to this game.

Nameless shook her head and laid her saucer down, evidently judging the conversation to be a waste of time. “As I said, how stands the board?”

“See for yourself.” Lucia moved from her desk to the table by the window, where a map of Faerzen was laid out. Pawns in several different colors stood upon it, mostly concentrated in the center and west. “The imperials have split their forces in two. The first and second armies approach from the north. Their momentum will not be halted, and the core awaits behind them in any case. ’Twould be foolish in the extreme to think to stop them.”

Nameless glanced toward the other side of the map. “And the rest from the south, I presume?”

“Indeed. The third army and Baum. Esel’s valiant resistance has slowed their progress, but, well...’tis only a matter of time.”

If the imperial forces broke through the Esel line, they would have a straight shot at San Dinalle, and if Six Kingdoms lost the new capital, they would have no choice but to hand Faerzen back to the empire. Esel shared a border with Faerzen, so it had the most to lose. Its troops were fighting hard. Nonetheless, theirs was a losing battle. Any fool could see that they would eventually have to fall back to San Dinalle.

“How much time, however, is still in question. And I mean for their stand to continue a little longer.”

“I see,” Nameless said. “Then your attention is focused on the north for the present. What actions have the other kingdoms taken?”

“Tigris is fleeing, as is their wont. Scorpius has deigned to watch and wait. Both seek to avoid losses, I don’t doubt. Vulpes holds the old capital for now, but Skye hardly has walls to withstand a siege. I expect they shall give it up before long.”

If the kingdoms stood against the empire piecemeal, they could only expect to be swept away. Their soldiers might have been as well trained as the enemy, but they were only a fraction as experienced. The empire had known nothing but victory on the field. An alliance that could not even fight as allies stood no chance.

“Indeed. Well, that shall not do. I will have to see about rectifying the situation.” Nameless did not sound particularly concerned. Evidently, she had expected this turn of events.

Lucia took a long time to answer, raising her fan to cover her mouth as she eyed the álf with suspicion. “’Twould be welcome, to be certain. In any case, as regards our future strategy, once the empire takes Skye, all of Six Kingdoms’ forces shall withdraw to the west.”

“And hand over the east?”

“But of course. ’Twas conceited from the start to presume to occupy all of Faerzen. Far more realistic to split it in two, would you not agree?”

Six Kingdoms’ failed invasion of the empire was still hurting them three years later. They lacked the manpower to hold Faerzen. Perhaps matters would have been different if Luka had not taken half of her soldiers to their graves, but she had, and there was no point lamenting what-ifs. The fact of the matter was that Lucia did not have enough soldiers, and that meant compromises had to be made.

“The east has been a thorn in our side, it’s true. And relinquishing it to the empire would at least relieve the burden on our resources.” Nameless nodded to herself approvingly as she pored over the map.

“Quite.” Lucia gave a little shrug, narrowing her eyes. “I am already at work among the people of the west, turning them against the empire.”

“But it isn’t quite going as you’d hope.”

“Ever the mind reader. But no, I shall not hide it.” Lucia laid a scattering of pawns on the map. “The commonfolk will not be our shield just yet. The Faerzen Resistance is at work among them, urging them to accept the empire as their new rulers. They have made little progress of their own, but vexingly, they have succeeded in impeding ours.”

With both factions trying to incite them to anger, the people of Faerzen were reaching the end of their tether. Years of warfare had left them jaded. If either side pushed them too far, they would snap violently back, and Faerzen would erupt in flame. Manipulating them had become sensitive work. Then again, if Lucia sat back and did nothing, the imperial lion would soon sink its jaws into the west.

“Permit me to buy you some time,” Nameless said.

Lucia arched an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“My hound’s training is complete. I will bring him to bear against the first army.”

“How many shall you need?”

“I will make do with the troops of Tigris, Scorpius, and Vulpes.” Nameless’s grin oozed confidence. “Your soldiers would be better used accomplishing your own goals.”

Lucia’s brows knitted irritably. “This newfound modesty makes my skin crawl. What are you plotting?”

“I seek only to serve the High King.”

“Do you presume such platitudes will fool me?”

Nameless’s words could not be trusted. She had never once acted in Six Kingdoms’ interests. Her every decision had ultimately proven to serve the Vanir Triumvirate. The idea of leaving her to her own devices was an alarming one indeed.

“Tell me, what became of that spy I told you about?”

“Her? She entertained me for a little while, but ’twas not long before she grew tiresome.”

“And where is she now?”

It was rare enough for Nameless to take an interest in anyone, let alone an agent of the enemy. Álfar tended not to view humans as people at all. Lucia found herself considerably surprised, although she took care not to let it show.

“And why, pray tell, would you care to know?”

“No special reason. I suspected she might hold vital intelligence about the empire, that’s all.”

“If she did, she let nothing slip. I fear she was a stubborn one.”

“Is that so? A terrible shame.” Nameless backed down more easily than Lucia had expected. Perhaps she even believed she had been given the truth. She stepped away from the map and looked around. “Unfortunately, I ought to take my leave. Time is pressing.”

With a final word of farewell, she disappeared just as abruptly as she had arrived.

Lucia snapped her fan shut, staring at the spot where the álf had been standing. “And good riddance,” she said.

＊＊＊＊＊

The twenty-first day of the ninth month of Imperial Year 1026

The lands around Skye were dotted with small towns and villages. The region had been an agricultural hub before years of warfare. Now, the remains of what had once been fields stretched to the horizon.

“Hardly the first time I’ve seen a war-torn land,” the man muttered, “but they’re never a pretty sight.”

He cut a striking figure atop his gallant warhorse. Wrinkles crinkled the corners of his eyes as he stroked his voluminous beard. He was muscular for his years, his biceps sprouting from his armor like tree trunks. The colossal spear on his back glinted as it caught the light of the sun.

“Then again, the victors rarely look much better. Victory promises prosperity, but often does it lie. The more a nation fights, the more it bleeds, until it grows weak enough to be devoured by something stronger.”

General von Cain, commander of the first army, looked to the sky as if addressing someone who was not there. No answer was forthcoming, but he continued nonetheless.

“A fine time you chose to die, von Loeing. There was a time when the five high generals were feared across Soleil. Now, we are but three.”

One had perished at the hands of an invading army, while another had disgraced himself by turning rebel. Now, with the emperor bedridden, no new high generals could be chosen to replace them.

“Fools, the both of you. Ours is to bring prosperity to the empire and guard the seeds of its future. How could you have forgotten your duty?” Von Cain’s hands tightened on the reins, his teeth gritting in chagrin. His bodyguards stepped back, intimidated.

His vice-commander drew his mount alongside with a wry smile. “Von Loeing’s treachery was regrettable, but Vakish von Hass put up a commendable stand, did he not? He may not have prevailed, but after all, he did face one of the Noble Blades.”

High General Vakish von Hass had perished almost three years prior, in the early days of Six Kingdoms’ invasion. After his death, his corpse had been torn limb from limb and placed on display outside the city walls.

“There is nothing commendable about a final stand when retreat is the wiser choice. Vakish ought to have fallen back. He would have stood a far better chance had he allowed his forces to regroup.” Von Cain clenched an enormous fist. “He was young, but he had talent in excess of his years. His Majesty saw that in him. It was what earned him his rank.”

Vakish had claimed the heads of two brigade commanders on his first foray into battle. Von Cain could remember it as if it were yesterday. The man had been unassuming in appearance and better suited to the pen than the sword, but that modesty had disguised a formidable warrior who made seasoned veterans look like babes. Above all else, he had worked hard. Not once had he neglected his training or his studies, and he had been rewarded for his efforts by being made the empire’s youngest-ever high general.

“He was destined to lead us all in von Loeing’s stead. He should have lived, no matter what shame it would have entailed. No matter if he had to crawl through the muck.” A bitter tear trickled down von Cain’s cheek as he gazed up at the sky. “But now he is dead, and all his work has come to nothing, while the aged yet endure.”

As he lowered his eyes to survey the scene before him, the air erupted with a mighty roar. Battle cries rang loud amid a storm of clashing steel. Red mist sprayed high. Deluges of arrows thundered down from all angles, reaping countless lives on both sides. In an instant, the earth was gory black, and the stench of iron filled the air.

A battlefield was the razor edge between life and death, the yawning mouth of hell, where every soldier dreamed of a tomorrow that they despaired of ever seeing. They forged ahead blindly, thinking only of surviving until the next dawn. If their sword broke, they snatched one from their enemy; if their shield split, they protected themselves with their bare arm. Their armor might cave inward, crushing their organs, but they had no choice but to continue onward. The soldiers of the empire fought single-mindedly for victory.

“It is not the strong who live. It is not the weak who die. Only the lucky survive. The lucky and the tenacious.”

The thirty thousand soldiers of the empire’s first army were fighting a combined twenty thousand troops from Scorpius and Tigris, and the battle was growing fiercer by the second. As von Cain continued his diatribe, he noticed his vice-commander cock his head.

“The enemy seems to have dug in their heels, sir,” the man said.

“A sign they are planning something, perhaps. Remain vigilant.”

“I cannot imagine they are planning to flank us, sir. We have too clear a view of the field.”

Skye was surrounded by flat grasslands that offered a clear view in all directions. There was nowhere for a potential ambusher to hide. Even so, von Cain pulled a sour face.

“The chance may be slim, but the slightest oversight may prove our downfall. The enemy has fled halfway across Faerzen. They would not have turned around now unless they believed this was their best chance of victory.”

Humans were known to challenge impossible odds, pinning their hopes on miracles. Álfar were not. Their cold eyes surveyed the battlefield with blunt practicality, pushing where they could win and retreating where they would lose. They were eminently logical creatures.

“They’re bound to try something. It’s only a question of when.” Von Cain turned to his vice-commander. “Send word to the reserves. Tell them to be ready to move at a moment’s notice.”

“At once, sir.” The man bowed his head.

At that moment, a trumpet note split the air. It was a beautiful sound—elegant, disciplined, and higher-pitched than any imperial horn—and it pierced loud and clear through the clamor of the field. For a moment, von Cain found himself caught in its spell, but the voice of his vice-commander quickly brought him back to his senses.

“There’s been a change on the front lines, sir!” the man cried. “The enemy is forcing back our center!”

Needless to say, von Cain was already looking, but he stayed silent while the man completed his report. Decades of experience brought his hand to the haft of the spirit weapon on his back. His commander’s instincts told him that soon, he too would have to fight.

“Here they come,” he growled.

Far ahead, a rain of arrows descended on the vanguard, piercing the chaos to strike down imperial soldiers while leaving Six Kingdoms’ troops unharmed.

“I see the álfar’s eyes have not dimmed. They always were skilled with the bow.” Von Cain watched calmly as the vanguard fell apart. “Signal the second cohort to advance. Use the dust cloud to hide the reserves as they flank the enemy core.”

If they didn’t make a play of their own, they would only end up fighting on the enemy’s terms. A good general thought several moves ahead, always trying to take their opponent’s strategy into account. That was how wars were won.

“There is danger in overcommitting to one course, however,” von Cain mused aloud. “One must not forget to stop midway and take stock.”

Even as he sank into thought, his orders were being carried out around him. Standards rose all across the battlefield, and messengers charged fearlessly through the fray. All that remained was to see whether they would be fast enough to strike first.

“Hmph. The álfar are no slouches, I see. The initiative is theirs.”

Von Cain cupped his chin in a burly hand, a touch of admiration in his voice. The first cohort had crumbled faster than expected, and its enemy counterpart was surging into the breach. He gestured to his vice-commander to issue his next directions, although his eyes remained locked on the battlefield.

“Disregard my last orders. Signal the second cohort to stand their ground. The reserves will circle around the right flank and slow the enemy advance.” His eyes narrowed with exhilaration. This thrill, knowing life and death hung in the balance, was what drew him back to the battlefield time and again. “And while they keep them occupied, our core will flank them on the left and skewer them through the heart!”

He drew his spear from behind his back and leveled it at the front line. A kick to his warhorse’s flanks sent him surging forward.

“Charge! And before the day is through, you will see surprise on the face of an álfar corpse!”

His vice-commander watched him speed away with long-suffering fondness. “Good fortune to you, General von Cain! May you show the enemy your wrath!”

Every imperial soldier had once dreamed of becoming a high general—of striding across the battlefield in full glory, mowing down foes like grain before returning in triumph with the enemy commander’s head. Theirs was a high peak that only the noblest of heart could climb. The Grantzian Empire, the lion of Soleil, recognized only five. In the end, most soldiers gave up on their ambitions, accepting that they were not fit. But those who could not make the climb still looked up to those who had, trusting them with the weight of their own unfulfilled hopes.

“You need fight no longer, men! I will end this myself! Let these álfar see the trail a high general blazes!”

Where von Cain rode, inspiration followed. Battle cries rose from the ranks as he passed. Morale soared. With him at the vanguard, the five thousand soldiers of the core raced across the field, trailing a cloud of dust in their wake. But as they skirted the melee...

“Hm?”

A force of two thousand álfar rode out to meet them, a gray-haired man at their head.

“You thought to stop me with so few?!” Von Cain’s muscles bulged to their limit as his grip tightened on his spear. “You will yield the way or I will make you!”

He swung his spirit weapon at the gray-haired man with all his might. No doubt every observer expected the man to be sent flying. Certainly, every imperial soldier thought as much. But reality was very different from what they imagined. Von Cain’s spear, almost as tall as its wielder, ground against steel in a shower of sparks. The high general gritted his teeth, face reddening with rage, and launched a second blow.

“Is that all?” the gray-haired man purred.

His voice was quickly snatched away by the clashing of metal, but it reached von Cain’s ears easily enough. A third strike came, a slash to rend its target in twain—and von Cain’s face flooded with surprise as the gray-haired man knocked it effortlessly aside. He pitched from his horse but stood back up almost immediately, ready to fight.

As he turned to face his foe, a shadow loomed overhead, casting both him and the rest of the imperial troops into semidarkness. The álfen archers arrayed behind their gray-haired leader had loosed arrows. Von Cain’s spear whirled, knocking the shafts aside, but imperial soldiers toppled from their horses behind him as the deluge thundered down. A second rain fell on the survivors kneeling on the ground.

Von Cain could hear the cries of his men dying behind him, but he did not once look back. He sensed that if he averted his eyes from the gray-haired man for even an instant, he would fall into a sleep from which he would never wake.

“Draw your blades.”

An odd quiet hung over the battlefield, a lull deep enough to render the gray-haired man’s order audible. The álfar unsheathed their swords as one. They moved in perfect unison, clearly not foes to be underestimated. The hairs on the back of von Cain’s neck stood on end as they advanced, silent as creeping assassins.

“Grant these humans a merciful death,” the gray-haired man said.

“On your feet, men!” von Cain bellowed. “He does not command you! Draw steel and raise your voices high! Take heart or fall!”

He spun his spear anew at the gray-haired man. Again, its point was easily deflected, but he hauled it back and launched a second blow. As the soldiers watched him, they struggled to their feet, fighting through countless arrows to retrieve their weapons.

“Glory to the empire!” they cried as they met the álfen charge.

Silence met uproar. A great cloud of dust rose as the two forces collided. Von Cain grinned as he wiped the sweat from his chin. Now that his men had regained the will to fight, they had even odds. However, one obstacle remained.

“You’re a strong bastard,” he spat, glancing briefly at his hands before returning his attention to his opponent. Several times now, he had swung at the gray-haired man with all his strength, but to no avail. If anything, the force of his blows was beginning to numb his own grip.

“And you, High General von Cain, are not.”

“We’ll see about that!” Von Cain’s spear streaked through the air, propelled by rage.

“Good. Good. Try to entertain me before the end.” The man let his sword fall to the ground and barreled toward von Cain with madness in his eyes.

Von Cain did not allow himself to be caught off guard. He was well aware that the slightest hesitation could mean his death. He thrust his spear forward with all his might, goring the gray-haired man through the stomach with surprising ease. Feeling the attack strike home, von Cain withdrew his weapon and unleashed a furious barrage, severing the man’s arm, gouging his thigh, splitting open his belly, and finally skewering him through the skull. At last, he stopped, confident that his foe was dead.

“Is that all?” the man smirked. Somehow, he still stood unharmed.

Von Cain was so astonished that for a moment he could not speak—not least because he had gotten close enough to see something familiar in his enemy’s face. “It cannot be...!”

“My turn, I think.”

An enormous battle-axe materialized in the gray-haired man’s hand. He swung it down with astonishing strength.

Realizing he did not have the time to avoid the blow, von Cain raised his weapon to catch it. In the moment the axe struck, lightning speared through him.

“Gaaah!”

A wordless cry tore from his throat as the bolt launched his enormous form through the air. Knocked from his grip, his spirit weapon traced an arc against the sky. He bounced across the ground as if caught in a cresting wave. A lesser man would have lost consciousness. It was only thanks to his decades of training that he withstood the pain to rise to his feet, half conscious, wreathed in dust.

“Ngh... Where...? Where do I know you...?”

He knew what to do when his back was to the wall. A lifetime on the battlefield had scored the knowledge into his flesh. His body moved of its own accord, spurred on by years of experience. At the same time, he had gotten a taste of his foe’s true strength. He scowled.

The gray-haired man was evidently just as familiar with battle. He swung again without a moment’s hesitation, affording his opponent no quarter. Von Cain picked up Stovell’s dropped sword and raised it to block, but the blade fell to the ground, severed at the hilt.

“Die.”

Again, lightning cracked the sky. In the instant it descended, von Cain finally caught hold of the memory hovering at the edge of his mind.

“You wield Mjölnir!”

As the words left his mouth, raw levin crashed through him. A charred stench swept outward. His flesh blackened, his sweat boiled, his blood splattered far and wide. Even so, he refused to fall, his high general’s pride propping him upright.

“To fall...on such a field...”

His own blood soaked his armor. White smoke billowed from beneath. Nonetheless, his eyes remained fixed straight ahead. His vision flickered, but he kept himself upright through will alone.

“Ha ha... Ha ha ha ha...”

A rueful smile spread across his face as memories played out behind his eyes. His youth had truly been a golden age. With equals aplenty surrounding him, his strength had grown day by day. He and von Loeing had braved battlefields side by side—at times in accord, at times bickering over strategy—until wordlessly they had acknowledged each other as rivals. When at last they were made high generals together, they had shed tears of joy as they embraced one another. The memory was as vivid now as when it was made. Although they had grown distant over time, preoccupied by their various duties, von Cain had never doubted that their hearts were one. He had dreamed of the day they would retire from their duties to trade old stories over flagons of ale.

“Who could have known that you would stray at the last...?”

He knew what von Loeing had sought. Now that age had come for him too, he felt the same pull himself. Even so, he could not help but think von Loeing had chosen wrong in his final days. The man had sworn his loyalty to the wrong master and died without once trying to correct his mistake. That he had died at the hands of the royal family was a small mercy, but von Cain had no sympathy for traitors—including the one before him.

Barely an inch of him was left unbloodied, but he forced himself to stand firm. Fury carried a roar up from the very pit of his stomach. “Your life ought to have ended long ago, Stovell!”

The gray-haired man made no reply, but his lips curled into a cruel smile as he approached.

Von Cain retrieved his fallen spear. “Your head will be well worth taking! And take it I shall!” He hurled the weapon with all his might before taking up a sword and surging forward with incredible speed.

“When you greet von Loeing,” Stovell drawled, “tell him how mighty I have become.”

He gave a dismissive wave. With a thunderous boom, lightning split the space between them. A fierce wind began to rage, drawing the crackling arcs into a whirlwind that lifted every loose object into the air. The storm sucked friend and foe alike into its maw as it ravaged the field.

Von Cain leveled his sword at the whirlwind as he ran, but his eyes remained locked on Stovell. “I will not yield. I cannot.”

“And why is that?” Stovell gestured again. Several more whirlwinds sprouted from the ground, each as fearsome as the last. They converged on von Cain as if to smother him, but he did not slow for a moment. After all...

“A high general leads by example, or he is nothing!”

That was why he had no sympathy for traitors who turned against their motherland. That was why he could not retreat: to prove that a high general fought to their last breath, not to his enemies, but to the soldiers behind him. Their dreams were his to shoulder, and their trust was his to honor.

“Retreat!” he bellowed to his men. “Flee this field and keep your lives!”

“High General?! What are you—”

“Forgive an old man the time he could not buy you!”

Von Cain retrieved his spear and set off once more, charging with all his strength into the maelstrom. Sharp-edged winds licked at his flesh, slicing his iron body to pieces. Red blood sprayed from every inch of bare skin. Still, he forged ahead, undaunted. He knew that he was going to his death, but it would shame the high generals who went before him not to spit in his enemy’s eye before the end.

“Stovell!” he roared. “Traitor prince! Prepare yourself!”

He burst free from the whirlwind, focusing every ounce of his being into his spear as he hurled it with all his might. At the same instant, a lightning bolt descended from the sky, piercing him and cracking the ground beneath. As he struggled through the dust and smoke, a crushing impact tore into his chest.

“It was ever thus. The scrawniest curs always did bark the loudest.”

Those were the last words High General von Cain ever heard.

＊＊＊＊＊

The sun sank below the horizon, and the moon and its court of stars rose to take its place. The stars soothed the hearts of the people below, their tender gaze staving off the solitude of night. Yet upon the earth was an enclave of light that burned just as bright. The third army had made camp on their march through the south of Faerzen. Wind whistled between the tents, sending the rows of regularly spaced torches flickering wildly. Lookouts huddled against the freezing wind as they made their rounds.

Among the tents were those of the Crow Legion of Baum, at the center of which stood the larger tent of King Surtr.

“The imperial commanders are at their wits’ end, I hear,” Hiro remarked as he lifted his fork to his mouth.

“After four days of waiting, I am not surprised,” Scáthach said. “They must act soon if we are to regroup with Liz’s forces.”

The third army’s plans had been proceeding more or less apace, making steady progress despite resistance from Six Kingdoms. Four days ago, however, they had encountered an unexpected obstruction: the people of Faerzen. The residents of Anguis’s territories around the new capital had blocked the roads, protesting that they would not accept imperial rule.

“We could try going around,” Hiro mused, “but if the protestors got ahead of us, we’d only end up wasting even more time.”

The longer the standoff dragged on, the more likely it would become that the imperial troops’ frustrations would erupt in violence. No doubt the third army’s commanders were racking their brains to find a solution.

Scáthach heaved a frustrated sigh. “Removing them by force would only grant Six Kingdoms the moral high ground.”

Hiro nodded in agreement. “And while we’re stranded here, Anguis is recalling its troops from across Faerzen and shoring up its defenses.” His plate now clear, he clasped his hands behind his head and rolled back onto the floor, staring up at the lamp hanging from the roof of the tent. “We’ve given our enemy a lot of options.”

He produced a letter from his pocket. Scáthach looked at it with curiosity, but he spoke before she could ask about it.

“How are you feeling?”

“I have suffered worse.”

Her smile didn’t quite seem to tell the whole story. Hiro watched her in silence. She scratched her head awkwardly, growing uncomfortable under his gaze.

“I will last for now. You have bought me time. You and Gáe Bolg.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

The oath Hiro had sworn with Scáthach—the bond they shared—gave him a unique understanding of her plight. He had first become cognizant of her condition when they had parted two years prior. It had clearly grown worse since then, but she remained as stoic as ever, letting slip not a word of complaint to ensure her suffering stayed hidden. It was that very tenacity that had brought her here now. She had devoted herself utterly to completing her mission.

“I would tell you not to push your limits, but I’m sure you don’t need the warning.”

“I accept it regardless. Your concern is more appreciated than you know.” Scáthach gazed at her own hand as she flexed her fingers, extending and contracting them as if testing some sensation. For a moment, she seemed to forget Hiro was there, but her taut expression dissolved into a forced smile as she noticed his concern. “But enough of that. You may be interested to know that Liz has complained of something amiss with her eyes.”

If she was hoping to distract him, that was the topic to choose. He was certainly interested, and while her condition was definitely a concern, she did not seem to want him probing any further. Indeed, the change of subject was probably a warning in that regard.

He sat up with a defeated sigh, letting the matter go. “Something amiss? Did she mention any details?”

“She said her vision felt...enhanced in some sense. That distant objects appeared close and close objects appeared distant. She struggled to fully explain it.”

“I see... I suspected as much.” Hiro cupped his chin with a hand. “Did she say anything else?”

“Only that about the same time as she developed this abnormality, she became plagued by strange dreams. I suggested that Lævateinn might have been showing her visions of another wielder, but...”

Hiro waited in silence for her next words. If Scáthach had been inclined to look closely, she might have seen his breath catch.

“But it appears these dreams are of a woman.”

Hiro was silent for a long moment. “I see,” he said finally, leaning back to gaze up at the roof of the tent.

Scáthach cocked her head dubiously but continued without comment. “Lævateinn’s only other wielder was the first emperor. No such woman could appear in its domain save as a figment of his memories, in which case he would have been present.”

As she finished her sentence, she noticed that he had lowered his eyes, one hand cupping his chin thoughtfully. Unwilling to interrupt while he was deep in contemplation, she glanced to the side. A blanket-wrapped shape lay in the corner of the tent, twitching like a turtle. She scowled. A face emerged from the cloth, dull eyes laden with heavy bags and staring at nothing. Its lips trembled, and if Scáthach strained her ears, she could hear it whispering.

“Igel, Igel, Huginn, Igel, Igel, Huginn, Igel, Huginn, Igel, Igel...”

“If I may, Lord Hiro,” she said, turning back. “Forgive me, Lord Surtr, I should say.”

“Yes?”

With an apology for interrupting his thoughts, Scáthach pointed at the shape. “Who or what is that?”

“That’s Luka.”

“Those are names she is chanting, are they not? Was Huginn not the name of one of your retainers?”

“She was spying on Anguis’s forces for us, but we recently lost contact. Luka has something of a soft spot for her, so the moment she heard... Well, you can see for yourself.”

Her condition had worsened to the point that she was neglecting to eat. At this rate, she would be unable to perform on the battlefield. Distracted by thoughts of Huginn, she might even prove a hindrance. Whatever had happened was serious enough that she no longer even cared about taking Hiro’s life. It would be wiser not to count on her help.

“So I do have a personal stake in breaking this stalemate,” Hiro said. “If we want to look for Huginn, we’ll have to get to Anguis’s territories first.”

“Troublesome indeed,” Scáthach said. “Would that a solution would present itself. I must say, however, you seem remarkably unconcerned.”

“Do you think so?”

“Am I wrong?”

“Well, suffice to say I’ve laid what plans I can. All that’s left is to put them into motion.”

“Hm?” Scáthach cocked her head, puzzled.

“This was always going to resolve itself sooner or later, but I’ve tried to speed things up a little.” Hiro’s voice was level as he spoke. “I’m in more of a hurry than I look.”

Silently, steadily, darkness closed in.