VI
The War Room at Leticia Castle in Fis, Capital of the Kingdom of Fernest
After the orders came from King Alfonse, the First Legion held a war council. It was recorded in the annals of Duvedirica that the main participants were the two generals—old Cornelius and bold Lambert—and Colonel Neinhardt.
“Have we confirmed the size of the force at Kier Fortress?”
“Yes, ser. Our spies described a force of...around eighty thousand.”
A heavy silence followed, hanging about the room like lead. General Lambert spoke first. He was a born soldier, the boldest commander in the First Legion, and boasted an array of scars across his body that clearly illustrated his long history of success upon the battlefield.
“Eighty thousand...while the First Legion has only fifty. Going off of those numbers, we are at an overwhelming disadvantage,” he said. Colonel Neinhardt was placing pieces on the map spread out on the table.
“Eighty thousand is only including the imperials. If the other countries who have fallen under the empire’s sway—Swaran and Stonia—join their forces, they could muster one hundred and forty thousand,” he announced with the air of someone pronouncing a death.
“Hah. A hundred and forty against fifty? That’s not even worth discussing. I know I ask the impossible, but is there no chance of assistance from the Third and Fourth Legions?” asked Lambert.
“I have raised the point on several occasions, but they always say that they cannot spare the soldiers,” Neinhardt replied automatically. He was placing black pieces on the map over the red line that indicated the northern front, surrounding the white pieces.
When the war began, the imperial army had raised a force of eighty thousand to launch a savage assault on the northern region of Fernest. Their objective had been to seize the kingdom’s largest granaries and cut off their food supply. This indicated that the empire had already been anticipating a drawn-out conflict. Fernest then sent its Third Legion, led by General Latz Smythe, to meet them, along with the Fourth Legion, led by General Lindt Barthes. With this force of sixty thousand, they had beaten back the empire. Latz and Lindt had been close friends since their school days, and they worked together with unparalleled coordination. They tore through the greater numbers of the imperial force.
The Vehrkal Campaign soon followed after, which could only be described as a perfect battle. The Third Legion had feigned defeat to successfully draw the imperial army into a narrow and hilly region. They waited for the soldiers’ ranks to be drawn thin before the Fourth Legion, which had been lying in wait, descended upon the imperials in a single wave, signaling the Third Legion to go back on the offensive. The imperial army was plunged into chaos, powerless to prevent their utter defeat that resulted in a devastating loss of forty thousand soldiers. Riding on the wings of their victory, the Third and Fourth Legions went on to crush the imperial army in battle after battle. When at last they had pushed the enemy back to the border, they followed the momentum to begin an offensive on imperial territory.
But the tides turned at the Battle of Alschmitz. The defeat of the Fifth Legion meant the Third and Fourth Legions was exposed at the rear, leaving them at significant risk of an attack from both sides. Some of the commanders took a hard line on continuing the offensive, but Latz and Lindt rejected this. They beat a rapid retreat, with the Third Legion protecting their rear. This was a prudent decision, but it also prevented them from undertaking coordinated operations. The reality was that they had been forced into the ill-advised strategy of fighting a war on two fronts. Now they were stuck repelling the incessant assaults of the enemy, putting everything they had into maintaining their line of defense.
Field Marshal Cornelius glanced at the map with a sigh.
“Given you already know it is unreasonable, General, you ought not to ask,” he said. “We should be applauding their efforts in holding the northern front with the scarce numbers that they have.” Cornelius was the Supreme Commander of the First Legion, and in his youth, he had been known as the Invincible General. But now he was seventy years old; his spark had faded, and no trace remained of the daring man he had been. Lambert shrugged, and looked at Neinhardt.
“What’s happening at the southern front, anyway?”
“General Paul reports that the imperials have made Fort Caspar their base of operations. They are bolstering their forces in preparation for an attack on Galia Fortress.”
“So the Seventh Legion probably won’t have any soldiers to send us either.”
“That can’t be helped. Paul has orders from His Majesty to defend Galia to the death,” said Cornelius. “A careless move on his part could well bring the enemy down upon them.” The other generals looked troubled by this pronouncement. Galia was a key strategic location, and it was right that it should be defended to the last. Should the worst happen and the fortress fall, nothing would block the imperials from marching on the capital. The imperial army would cross the Est Mountains unimpeded and descend on the royal capital of Fis like an avalanche. There would be no choice left to the royal army but a fight to the death. Surrender wasn’t an option.
But they couldn’t just sit on their hands and watch as the empire’s detestable schemes played out. The Seventh Legion had as of yet suffered barely a single loss. The royal army couldn’t afford to let them sit around twiddling their thumbs. Of course, none of the officers said it out loud, but all of them were thinking it.
“If only we hadn’t lost Fort Caspar...” muttered one of the officers. All eyes in the room focused on that point on the map.
Fort Caspar had a long history stretching back to the early days of the feudal age. It had been constructed to keep watch over the southern countries, but when Kier Fortress had been completed, it had lost its strategic significance and, in recent years, had been all but abandoned. Everything had changed, however, when Kier Fortress fell on the central front. The strategic value of Fort Caspar had been reevaluated, and it became a vanguard station to put pressure on Kier Fortress—but it was already too late. The imperial army moved on Fort Caspar less than a month after they took Kier Fortress. The reinforcements were unable to make it in time, and the fort’s paltry garrison of fewer than five hundred soldiers, led by Lieutenant Kutum, had been wiped out. Fort Caspar was now being put to good use by the imperial army as a preventative buffer against attacks on Kier Fortress.
“Well, we did lose it, so it’s no good crying over it now. Do we know the size of the force at Fort Caspar?” asked Lambert.
“Just a moment.” Neinhardt rifled through documents until he found a page titled Estimate of Troops Stationed at Caspar Fortress. They had to take this kind of report with a grain of salt; it wasn’t uncommon for reports to underestimate the numbers as a result of wishful thinking. But there was no need to worry about that this time. The face of a man with a grim expression floated up in Neinhardt’s memory.
“They emphasized that this is only an estimate, but around fifty thousand soldiers.”
“I see. Fifty thousand...”
Lambert crossed his arms, closed his eyes, and pressed his lips together. He looked like he was working out a plan. Neinhardt apparently wasn’t the only one who thought so, because Cornelius, his expression questioning, asked, “What are you plotting, General?” With the eyes of all the other officers on him, Lambert slowly opened his eyes.
“Well, I just might have an idea. What if we attacked Fort Caspar first? We take twenty-five thousand from the First Legion and thirty thousand from the Seventh to raise a force of fifty-five thousand. That should be enough to give them a decent fight.”
Several of the younger officers gave an audible noise of admiration at Lambert’s proposal. That lot already thought of Lambert as the Supreme Commander of the First Legion and wanted to cozy up to him. Lambert himself, however, paid them no attention.
They’re pretty cheery, considering that we’re sitting here on the brink of annihilation, thought Neinhardt. He regarded the young officers with exasperation, but they didn’t seem to notice. They had started debating Lambert’s strategy, pretending to know what they were talking about. It appeared that the fate of the kingdom was of little concern in the face of their own potential glory.
Ignoring them, Cornelius continued. “The Seventh Legion cannot afford any careless moves. I just said that.”
“Then so long as it’s not careless, you have no objections? If we can take back Fort Caspar, we can draw a strong line of defense around Galia Fortress. That could even make it possible for the Seventh Legion to retake Kier Fortress.”
“Well, yes... That may be so... But His Majesty...” Cornelius grumbled, tugging at his long, white beard and struggling to find words. It appeared that Lambert’s point was too sound to argue with.
Adding further weight to his position, Lambert went on. “Besides, if you look at the reports, no matter how the cards fall we have no hope of taking back Kier Fortress by ourselves—as I am sure you’re well aware, my lord. You’ll forgive my directness, but do you really intend for us to dig our own graves in front of Kier Fortress?”
“Oh, for...” mumbled Cornelius. He looked agonized at the severity of Lambert’s reproval. No one in the room so much as breathed as they watched this exchange.
“...Very well, then. Let us talk to His Majesty directly. General, draw up a specific battle plan with Paul. Make sure the two of you talk it through thoroughly before making any decisions.”
“Thank you, my lord,” said Lambert. “Know that I am grateful for your support.” He made to stand and salute, but Cornelius raised a hand to stop him. The officers were looking at each other, faces full of relief that they had avoided a reckless battle. Neinhardt felt the same. But now, he steeled his nerves, and addressed Cornelius.
“My lord, might I request that I be sent to Galia Fortress to relay this news? There is another matter there that I would like to look into.”
“Hm... Yes, I don’t see any problem with that,” replied Cornelius. “You may go and attend to whatever it is that’s bothering you.” He stood up slowly, and Lambert took this as a sign to dismiss the council. The tired officers returned to their quarters.
Neinhardt carefully bundled up the documents before him, looking at a page from the report from the Seventh Legion. It had not been relevant to the war council, and so he had deliberately set it aside. Neinhardt had had a friend, Florenz, who had met a violent death back at the Battle of Alschmitz. The report concerned the one who had brought about that tragedy, the despicable Captain Samuel, and the new recruit who had killed him, Warrant Officer Olivia.
The report says she’s just a girl of fifteen... Unbelievable. But Colonel Otto wouldn’t make a mistake like that. Well, whatever the truth is, I need to meet her and thank her.
His thoughts on the unknown girl, Neinhardt quietly shut the door.
Colonel Otto’s Work Room, Galia Fortress, the Royal Army
In the capital, the war council was planning the recapture of Kier Fortress.
Otto had ordered Olivia to present herself so that he could brief her on a certain mission. But the scheduled hour came and went, and the girl showed no sign of appearing. Every five to ten minutes, a rhythmic clacking could be heard from inside the work room. The odd sound perplexed the soldiers passing by in the corridor outside.
It was thirty minutes after the appointed hour when Olivia finally presented herself. She stood in a dignified salute, not giving any particular sign that she felt guilty. Otto suppressed his irritation, and said, “Warrant Officer Olivia, you are thirty minutes late. I’d like an explanation.”
“Yes, ser! It’s because of my clock!”
“Your...clock? How does that relate to your lateness?”
“Yes, ser! I don’t have a wonderful clock like yours, ser, so I can’t tell exactly what time it is. That’s why I was late, ser!” Olivia said, staring at Otto’s pocket watch that sat on the work table with something like longing in her eyes. Otto groaned at the absurdity, then reached for the pocket watch where it sat on the table. Its cover was silver, engraved with a relief of flowers, and it sprung open to reveal a red second hand beating out a perfect rhythm. Tick tock, tick tock. Otto gazed at it for a moment, then without ceremony, he threw it. Olivia threw out her hands in alarm and the pocket watch, sailing in an arc through the air, came to rest in them.
“...Huh?”
“It’s yours now. So no more tiresome excuses.” It had only been a few days ago that Otto had let his anger get the better of him. For the sake of his nerves as much as anything else, he decided it was better to just give her the thing and get it over with. He hadn’t thought any more of it than that, but Olivia was looking from the pocket watch to Otto and back with a look of amazement on her face. She clearly hadn’t been expecting it. Otto waved her gaze away, annoyed.
“For me? Seriously?”
“I really don’t care. And the proper question would be, ‘May I keep this, ser?’ I don’t know how many times I’ve told you to mind your tongue with your superiors.”
“Yes, ser, I’m sorry, ser! I am honored to receive your pocket watch, ser!” Olivia said, then grinned and started to play with it. She opened the cover, then closed it again, then opened it, then closed it. The same action, over and over. It was like watching a child getting a new toy, and Otto remembered his own six-year-old daughter in the capital. He was briefly lost in his memories, then realized that Olivia was peering curiously at him. His expression had apparently softened considerably.
“R-Right, to business! Put that thing in your pocket or something.”
“Yes, ser! I will, ser!” Cradling the pocket watch like it was a precious jewel, Olivia slipped it into her pocket. Otto coughed lightly, and crossed his arms.
“I summoned you here today for a very important reason. Warrant Officer Olivia, I am offering you a special mission. As you are aware, however, military protocol dictates that you may refuse such an assignment. We are short on time, so I will need you to decide here and now.”
Special missions were difficult and highly covert, typically carried out by small groups. They came with an extremely high risk of death, and so those assigned them were given the right of refusal. Incidentally, the system also guaranteed a promotion to anyone who completed such a mission. From what he knew of Olivia’s personality, Otto thought it highly unlikely she would refuse.
Sure enough, Olivia replied without a moment’s hesitation. “I won’t refuse, ser! Warrant Officer Olivia will accept the assignment!”
“Very good. Now, the details. Your task, Warrant Officer, is to recapture Fort Lamburke,” said Otto, standing up from his chair and going to the map fixed to the wall behind him. He pointed to the symbol of a fortress, next to which was written a large X and the word ABANDONED. Olivia looked closely at the map, her head tilted quizzically to one side.
“Um, this says ‘abandoned’—er, I mean—doesn’t this say ‘abandoned,’ ser?” asked Olivia, realizing belatedly that she was being impolite again and hurrying to correct herself. Otto limited himself to the smallest of sighs as she smiled awkwardly at him.
“Yes, that is correct. The fort was abandoned ten years ago, and has become a hideaway for bandits. Your task, to put it simply, is to drive the bandits out and take it back.”
“How come you want it back if you threw it away?”
“Language—oh, forget it. The situation today is very different to what it was ten years ago. As you are aware, our forces have suffered heavy losses at the hands of the imperial army. If we are to continue to hold off their invasion, we need Fort Lamburke.”
Otto had sent a number of teams to oust the bandits from Fort Lamburke in the past. None had succeeded. The surviving soldiers had reported that more than half of them were lost to a piker of terrifying skill. Otto had briefly entertained the idea of sending in a company to retake it, but never followed through. A large-scale military operation would attract attention, and these days the empire had eyes throughout the whole of Fernest. So long as he didn’t know which places were being watched, chances were that any careless mobilization of soldiers would be detected. And if they were spotted, it would mean alerting the empire to the existence of the abandoned fort. There was no doubt in his mind that the empire would then send in soldiers to seize it. Worst-case scenario, that could lead to further attacks.
After weighing the merits and demerits, Otto had given up on retaking the fort. But now that Olivia was here, things were different. Whoever this master piker was, he would see how they fared against the strongest piece on the Seventh Legion’s board.
Otto explained the details of the mission, then finally, to confirm Olivia’s resolve, he asked, “You understand, then, that all previous attempts to oust the bandits ended in failure. Do you still believe you can succeed?”
“Hm... Basically, you’re telling me to go beat the crap out of a bunch of bandits. Is that right?”
Otto frowned at the crude turn of phrase, but she wasn’t wrong, strictly speaking. He nodded his head.
“To put it simply, yes.”
“Understood, ser. Oh, what about the heads?”
“Heads?”
“Yes. Heads.”
Otto had no idea what this sudden talk of “heads” was about, but when he asked her to explain, Olivia looked confused.
“Humans enjoy taking the heads of their enemies, don’t they?” she said, and now Otto remembered how she had arrived at Galia Fortress with the sack stuffed with the heads of imperial soldiers. He felt a sudden chill around his own throat, and unconsciously retracted his neck.
“Er, no. No, that won’t be necessary.”
“Very good, ser. In that case, I accept the assignment to recapture Fort Lamburke!”
“We’re counting on you, soldier. You are dismissed.”
Olivia promptly turned and walked away, radiating confidence. She didn’t appear to have any misgivings about her new assignment. Otto’s impression was only reinforced when he heard her exclaim cheerfully just after she’d closed the door behind her.
“Oh, I should have asked when I get the cake!”
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