The Girl Raised by the Death God Holds the Sword of Darkness in Her Arms - Volume 1 - Chapter 3.3

III

The Plains of Ilys

The Southern Division of the Imperial Army, led by General Osvannes, arrived at the Plains of Ilys ahead of the Seventh Legion. At Paris’s urging, they’d set up the commander’s tent on high ground that commanded a view of the whole battlefield. Lieutenant General Georg’s twenty thousand Steel Chargers were at the center. Major General Heid took the left flank, while Major General Minnitz’s light infantry made up the core of the right flank, for a total of twenty-five thousand soldiers. They raised their banners emblazoned with the empire’s crossed swords and waited for the Seventh Legion.

Paul and Lambert and their combined legions arrived the next day. They decided to put the twenty-five thousand of Lambert’s First Legion troops in the center, judging that that was where the enemy’s force was concentrated. Another twenty thousand, led by Major Generals Hermann and Osmund, would make up the left and right flanks. They set up the commander’s tent slightly removed from the battlefield, guarded by another five thousand under Paul’s command.

Both armies set up in a typical line formation. This allowed them to make best use of the wide-open plains while preventing the enemy from flanking or getting behind them. War horns rang out and the beating of drums echoed across the plains. The Steel Chargers surged forward.

The Battle of Ilys had begun.

“My lord, please! You’re too close to the front line! Retreat to the back!” cried Georg’s aide, Colonel Silas. But his desperate attempts to detain the other man were in vain—Georg made no effort to slow his horse’s charge, instead digging his heels in to spur it on. Looking back at Silas, who was struggling to match his master’s pace, he bellowed,

“Fool! You fear the pathetic wretches of the royal army? I’ll skewer every one of them that stands against the Steel Chargers!” He grinned fiercely, driving his lance through soldier after soldier as he plowed through the enemy ranks. Seeing their commander ride headfirst into the fray invigorated his soldiers.

It had been a few hours since the fighting began, and still the battle raged fierce in the center of the plains.

Georg’s Steel Chargers were all clad head to toe in heavy steel plate. Instead of standard-issue spears, they wielded lances—weapons whose weight made them ideal for thrusting strikes and well-suited mounted cavalry. When combined with the momentum of a galloping horse, they could pierce through even plate armor. The Steel Chargers made the most of their superior offensive and defensive capabilities to steer the battle in their favor.

“Weak! I never saw such weaklings! The Sixth Legion was bad, but it seems the Seventh is no different! The Swaran army put up more of a fight than this lot.” Georg impaled a royal soldier on the end of his lance before tossing them aside.

“My lord, the enemy is retreating!” Silas called out to him, pointing in the direction where, sure enough, one section of the royal army had fallen back. The others, following their example, began retreating as well.

“Heh heh heh... Well, Silas? What do you make of this?” Silas shrank from Georg’s glare. The general wouldn’t excuse a poorly thought-out response just because he was his aide.

“Um, yes, ser. The enemy likely intends to fall back and regroup.”

“And how should we respond?”

“This is a golden opportunity, ser. We can break through their center and strike at their commanders.” Georg, having gotten the answer he wanted, was satisfied. Silas was right. The royal army was probably regrouping—but piecing a scattered formation back together was no easy task. If they seized this moment to take out the enemy command, all the glory would be his. He could almost taste the promotion to general.

Georg shook the blood from his lance and bellowed an order.

“Silas! Charge their center and attack the command tents!”

“Yes, ser!”

“Heed me, my glorious Steel Chargers! Ride with me, kill their commanders, and all your hearts’ desires will be yours!”

The Chargers’ fierce battle cry rang out in response. Silas gave the signal, and they bore down once more on the royal army. Though Lambert’s First Legion put up a desperate resistance, there was nothing they could do to stop the charge.

The royal army’s center began to split apart as the Chargers bore down on the command camp.

Neinhardt kept his composure as he watched the battle unfold. He shot off arrow after arrow as he ordered his shattered unit to fall back. Unfortunately, his targets’ plate armor prevented the arrows from being truly effective. He would have aimed for the horses, hoping to unseat their riders, but even the horses were clad in plate.

“I suppose those are the Steel Chargers we’ve been hearing about, my lord.”

“It seems so. They’re smashing us to pieces like a battering ram,” nodded Lambert with something like admiration in his voice. “I have to hand it to them; they’re fighting spectacularly.” Neinhardt, too, had been impressed by the Chargers’ maneuvering and their fighting spirit both. He genuinely hadn’t imagined that the First Legion, which prided itself on its fortitude, could be pushed back so easily. He saw now how Lieutenant General Sara and the Sixth Legion had been defeated.

“Still, we can’t just sit here marveling at them, ser. What’s our next move? Do we add our reserve forces?” asked Neinhardt. He looked back to where the banner of the Seventh Legion fluttered high above the command camp. Lambert snorted.

“It’s unbecoming, asking a question you already know the answer to. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you plotting something.”

“Begging your pardon, ser,” said Neinhardt. He raised a hand, and a unit of archers who’d been awaiting his signal stepped forward. Their arrowheads glistened with oil. Other soldiers came up beside them with torches, and set the arrowheads ablaze.

Neinhardt watched the flames spread out along the line of archers, then brought his hand down and shouted, “Shoot!”

The flaming arrows arced through the air above them before raining down on the Steel Chargers. They weren’t trying to hit the riders themselves, but to drive the horses into a terrified frenzy. Animals feared fire. Neinhardt heard the horses whinnying and bucking, and knew his plan had worked.

“Whoa, there!”

The Chargers desperately tried to calm their steeds, but one after another they were thrown to the ground, where the royal army’s heavy infantry was waiting for them. The Chargers tried to fight back, but weighed down by their armor, they struggled even to stand. The royal soldiers cut them down.

“That should keep the enemy at bay for now,” muttered Neinhardt to Lambert as they surveyed the battlefield.

“It should, but we can’t let our guard down yet. We’ve got them on the defensive, but they’re not going to stay that way.”

The pair nodded to each other without another word.

The battle fell into a pattern of advance and retreat, neither side able to break the stalemate. The fighting out on the flanks never grew as hot as in the center, and as time went on it fell into a lull. As the light of dusk painted the skies above the Plains of Ilys the color of blood, both sides sounded their horns to signal their soldiers to fall back. The first day of fighting was over.

The imperial army had lost around two thousand soldiers; the royal army three thousand. Though the fighting on the flanks had been evenly matched, the battle at the center had made all the difference.

The Royal Army Commanders Camp

Otto and his staff stayed up late into the night trying to piece together all the reports that had come in from the battlefield. The Steel Chargers’ devastating assault stood out from the rest, a visceral display of the strength of the imperial army.

“You’re working late,” said Paul, slipping into the tent. Otto’s staff leapt to their feet to offer him a hasty salute.

“My lord, you should be resting,” said Otto, concern in his voice, but Paul only waved him off, sitting down in the chair one of the staff drew out for him.

“Don’t worry about me. You know I never sleep well on the battlefield. Once my blood’s up, it doesn’t settle ’til the fighting’s done—even at this age.” His gaze was razor-sharp, and for a moment Otto saw once again the face of the man they’d called the god of the battlefield. The years had softened his outline, but the essence never changed.

“Anyway, what are our losses?” asked Paul, and Otto pushed aside his nostalgia to summarize the reports.

“Even Lambert the Bold couldn’t hold them back... The Steel Chargers have lived up to their reputation,” said Paul when he was done.

“Yes, my lord. The First Legion used flaming arrows to spook the horses and break the charge, but it was a close call. And...” Otto trailed off, looking up at the sky. The moon had bathed the plains in silver light, but now it was covered by dark clouds.

“We’re in for bad weather.”

“So it seems. Flaming arrows won’t be nearly as effective in the rain. The First Legion will be at a serious disadvantage.”

“If I know Lambert, he’ll turn it around somehow. When is the detached force due to arrive?”

“If everything went as it should, it’s possible they’re already in position,” said Otto. “But...”

Olivia and the others had orders to light a beacon after completing their surprise attack. The combined army was ready to strike the moment they received the signal.

“I see,” Paul said under his breath. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. Purple smoke coiled up into the air above them.

Only a few hours remained until dawn.

The Second Day of the Battle, Weather Overcast

Lambert’s First Legion had learned from their defeat the previous day, and were ready with flaming arrows. They took a defensive formation to prepare for the Chargers’ onslaught. The Chargers themselves, meanwhile, had come up with no effective tactical measures against the flaming arrows, and put up a lackluster performance. The day’s fighting ended in a series of scattered skirmishes without any of the spectacular clashes of the first day. Most of the action happened instead on the wings.

The right flank of the royal army was led by Major General Hermann Hack. He was of common birth, but after drawing Paul’s notice, he’d worked his way up to his current rank. He was a rare example of a commander who could control a battlefield from a defensive position.

“Ser, the enemy cavalry has penetrated our formation!” cried his aide, Captain Louis. Five hundred soldiers on horseback thundered through the middle of the fierce battle.

“Stand fast! They’re in a crescent formation to try and overwhelm our line of defense. Tell your archers to spread out on our flanks and shoot all together.” Hermann’s commanding officers immediately relayed his orders to their archers. The archers seemed to move as one as they drew their bows and let the arrows fly, whistling through the air and raining down on the enemy cavalry. Their horses reared up, throwing their riders to the ground. But it wasn’t enough to stop the charge. They surged forward as though the whips of hell lashed at them from behind.

A panicked archer cried out, “Th-They’re not stopping! They’re on us!”

“Hold fast, and keep shooting!” bellowed the commanding officer, and the archers let off another wave of arrows, then another. As each came down, the number of fallen soldiers grew until at last more than half lay dead. In response to some signal, the remaining riders drew their horses around and began a messy retreat.

“The enemy is falling back—they’re in disarray, ser! Should we press our advantage?” demanded Louis. Hermann stroked his chin.

“Yes... I suppose not giving chase now would arouse our enemy’s suspicions...”

Really, Hermann himself should have been the one proposing the pursuit, not Louis. He couldn’t afford to delay his decision any longer.

“What are you talking about, ser?!”

“No, sorry. That’s for me to worry about. Take four hundred riders and pursue the enemy cavalry. But make sure you know when to turn back. Don’t follow them too far.”

“Yes, ser!” said Louis, and immediately sent the order to the commanding officers. Hermann kept one eye on him as he pondered their strategy. Only a select few knew of Olivia’s pivotal role in it all. It had been kept that way to remove any chance of the enemy learning of the planned surprise attack.

The basic battle plan dictated that they were to avoid aggressive military action until the surprise attack had been carried out. Each commanding officer had strict orders not to make any spur-of-the-moment decisions. Paul wanted them to keep casualties to a minimum in preparation for the attack on Fort Caspar.

On the other hand, staying too passive would only arouse suspicion. Hermann had to parry the enemy’s attacks, while also seeming to hold nothing back—all the while making sure neither his enemies nor his allies sensed anything amiss. This is harder than I imagined, thought Hermann, running his fingers through his thinning hair with a sigh.

Everyone involved has faith in General Paul, so I’m sure it’ll work. But I don’t like that we’ve put all our fates in the hands of a fifteen-year-old girl. The looks on the enemies’ faces if they ever learned the truth... He remembered the silver-haired girl he’d passed in the corridor at Galia Fortress. Then, he gave Louis his next orders.

Imperial Command on the Right Wing

“You’ve got some nerve showing your face here, you impudent wretch!” screamed Major General Minnitz el Stox, spittle flying from his mouth. He was dressed in sumptuous garb that had no place on a battlefield. Minnitz hailed from a high-ranking noble family, and his vanity was the stuff of legends. He was also as cowardly as he was self-important, and never made a move unless he held a clear advantage. He berated his inferiors for their mistakes while taking the credit for any successes himself. He had no business commanding an army, but the few drops of imperial blood his family claimed had landed him the position of the supreme commander of the imperial army’s right flank.

“My lord, I think he understands. The man has lost a great number of his troops. He is traumatized,” said Minnitz’s aide, Major Lyoness. He was trying to placate Minnitz, who pressed the prostrate man’s head into the dirt with the heel of his boot. The man had led a spectacular failure of an attempt to break the enemy’s line. He’d lost around seven in ten of his men before he came crawling back on his belly. It seemed cruel, though, to place all the blame on him. Minnitz’s plan to break the enemy line with a mere five hundred cavalry had been a risky gamble from the start.

“Shut up, shut up! Do you have any idea how cross my father will be if we fail? Get back on your horses and charge them!”

“M-My lord! You can’t just throw more soldiers at the enemy without a plan! I’d have thought this failure would have taught you that.”

“Cease your jabbering! General Georg is floundering out there, and that means this is our chance for glory! Now go and charge them, I say! That’s an order!”

Minnitz ran his fingers through his unkempt hair, muttering, “Charge them, charge them...” under his breath like a madman. There was no reasoning with Minnitz when he got like this, but Osvannes had personally asked Lyoness to handle the man, so he had to do something. He stifled a sigh, then said, “How about this, my lord? We break three thousand riders into three separate companies. The first company will charge at the center of the enemy’s right flank, just like last time.”

Lyoness unfolded their battle map on the table, and took out another three pieces. He placed one at the center of the line representing the enemy wing.

“That’s what I’m ordering you to do!” snapped Minnitz. Well, at least he’s listening, thought Lyoness with faint amusement.

“Yes, my lord. The next part is a little different, though. Given they repelled our last attack, the enemy will likely let their guard down when they see us trying the same thing again.” He placed the other two pieces down at either end of the enemy line. “We use their confidence to our advantage, and penetrate their line with the other two companies.”

“So the first team is a decoy—distracting them while the other two charge in. We end up attacking them in three places at once?”

“Adroit as always, my lord. But that isn’t all. No, our true aim is what comes next.” Lyoness smiled and began to explain slowly and clearly, so that Minnitz would understand.

“Enemy riders coming towards us, ser,” said Louis.

Really? Again? thought Hermann, before reaching for his spyglass.

“Hmmm, there’s more of them this time... Around a thousand, by my reckoning. Looks like they’re trying to break our line with that crescent formation again.”

“Yes, ser. They’re unexpectedly persistent,” said Louis, his tone dismissive.

“Don’t get comfortable,” Hermann reprimanded him. On the battlefield, you never knew where death might be waiting. He ordered Louis to tell the archers to be ready to meet the attackers.

“Here they come!”

The riders plowed into them, spears raised. The maneuver was identical to the last attack. There didn’t seem to be anything else to it. Hermann felt a twinge of unease as he confirmed that the riders were within bowshot, then gave the order to shoot. A cloud of arrows rained down like shooting stars. Riders began to drop.

“Perhaps I worried over nothing...”

“What was that, ser?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Hermann handed command over to Louis, and went back to his tent to rest. But before ten minutes had passed, Louis came rushing in, his face pale.

“S-Ser—!”

“What happened?”

“More riders appeared! They’re charging us, trying to break the line!”

Hermann hastened back outside and saw his soldiers in disarray. Their formation had been penetrated by the enemy.

“They were plotting something after all,” Hermann gritted out through clenched teeth. “And I played right into their hands.” The first riders had been a distraction, creating a chink in their defenses for the other riders to exploit.

“Should I give the order to fall back and regroup?” said Louis, his face twitching.

Hermann paused, then said, “Tell the archers to retreat. Establish a shield wall with spears behind, ready to attack through the gaps.”

“Yes, ser, at once!”

Hermann pointed his spyglass towards the battle. The enemy’s main force was approaching in an arrowhead formation.

Ah, the whole operation was the decoy, he thought. They sow chaos, then use it to break us with the main force. I underestimated them. He laughed at his own folly, and Louis looked at him in concern.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going mad,” Hermann reassured him. “This whole attack was meant to distract us. Their main force is moving towards us now.”

“No!” Louis gasped, reaching for his spyglass, before making a noise of frustration. “You’re right... Forgive me, ser. You left me in command, and I failed.”

“As did I. The enemy commander played this very well, right down to the timing. But I suspect this is the extent of their plan. Which leaves us only one course of action.”

“It does, ser?”

Hermann only let out a bark of laughter in response.

“Behold! The royal army is panicking! My plan is a glorious success!” cried Minnitz with a high laugh.

“There was never any doubt, my lord. Truly, ingenuity such as yours comes once in a generation.”

“The royal army’s luck ran out the moment they came up against you, my lord.”

Minnitz hopped up and down with glee, and his advisors took their chance to layer on the flattery. They paid no attention to the officers who watched them, stone-faced.

“I’ll be taking full command from here on out! Once the enemy line breaks, have the main force advance, and bring us back the commanders’ heads!”

“My... My lord?!” said Lyoness, startled. “Standard tactics would be to divide and conquer. What you suggest might be possible for the Steel Chargers, but we simply don’t have the forces. Will you not reconsider?”

“Silence! This is our chance for glory!” Minnitz slammed his fist on the table.

“Please, my lord—!”

“That’s quite enough, Major Lyoness,” cut in one of the advisors. “His lordship has given you an order. Continuing to dispute it would be tantamount to treason, don’t you agree?” At the threat, the other officers turned red with rage and looked ready to argue back, but Lyoness raised a hand to stop them.

“Of course,” he said shortly.

“Good, good. We’re all on the same page,” said Minnitz with a nod, his expression smug. He repeated his order to attack the enemy command.

An hour had passed since the main force under Minnitz’s command began its attempt to penetrate the enemy’s right flank. While his allies in the vanguard fought bravely around him, Lyoness found himself wracked with doubt.

This isn’t right. The enemy moved just as I expected, so even if we can’t get to their commanders, we should whittle down their force significantly. But it’s all going too well. If the royal army were just weak, then this worry will be for nothing, but after yesterday, I can’t believe that. I need more information.

Lyoness raised his sword to knock aside an incoming arrow, then turned to the advisor named Mars.

“I’m leaving command of the vanguard with you. I have something I need to check,” he announced.

“Yes, ser,” said Mars, saluting, but Lyoness was already swinging his horse around to gallop away.

“A hundred riders, with me!”

“Yes, ser!” the soldiers chorused back. Lyoness dug his boots into his stirrups, and galloped up to high ground.

“It... It can’t be...” What Lyoness saw from the top of the rise left him speechless. The enemy had almost totally surrounded their troops.

“What’s going on, Major?” asked a bewildered soldier. Wishing someone would explain that to him, Lyoness tried desperately to think it through. He soon realized there was only one possibility.

The enemy must have seen through our plan and faked the broken formation... He chuckled despairingly. Best-laid plans, as they say...

After all their attempts to outfox each other, his side had lost. All they could do now was to try and minimize the damage. Every second he delayed, the enemy’s net grew tighter around them.

“Get back to the command tent! Make haste before it’s too late!”

“Yes, ser!”

Imperial Command on the Right Wing

Lyoness rode back to the command tent as hard as he could. He found Minnitz there laughing and drinking from a glass brimming with amber-colored wine.

“My lord! We are in the middle of a battle!”

Minnitz looked up with mild surprise. “Oh, Lyoness. We’re having a drink to celebrate our imminent victory. Do you want one?”

“Victory?! The enemy has us surrounded! We need to retreat, immediately!”

“You want me to order a retreat? Are you drunk on something yourself? What you see out there is clearly the result of our plan. The enemy has been broken, and they are trying to flee.”

“The chaos is an act, my lord! We’ve fallen right into their trap!”

Just then, a soldier came running in, before falling to his knees. Seeing him, Lyoness knew that the situation had grown worse still.

“Stop that racket! Are you an imperial soldier or not? Pull yourself together!”

“Forgive me, my lord. I... I...”

“What? Out with it!”

“Yes, my lord. We... The royal army... They have us surrounded! It’s only a matter of time before they push through to the command tents.”

“That rubbish again? Watch your tongue, or I’ll have your—!” An arrow came careening past Minnitz’s cheek. From outside, they could hear faint shouting and screaming. Lyoness knew that they were out of time. Minnitz could only stare stupidly around, but little by little he seemed to piece together what was happening. He started to shake, and a wet patch grew out around his legs. The advisors fell over each other, crying out wordlessly.

“My lord! Get ahold of yourself!”

“What... What’s the meaning of this, Lyoness?! My army was winning! Why are there enemy arrows flying through my tent?!”

“I told you! The enemy has us surrounded. We are in immediate danger, and must make haste to escape.”

“Y-You... You d-d-did this!!!” shrieked Minnitz, pointing an indignant finger at his aide.

“If you want to scold me, my lord, I’ll be at your disposal later,” said Lyoness. He turned to the advisors. “Escort his lordship away from here. Now! I will hold them off for as long as I can to give you time to escape.”

The two advisors only nodded at him, shaking. They forced the ranting Minnitz onto a horse, then mounted up themselves and galloped away with him sandwiched between them.

Lyoness watched them go, before mounting his horse and drawing his sword.

“Major.” Only fifty of his riders remained, but they were there beside him. “We’re with you, ser.”

“I’m sorry,” said Lyoness, and together, they threw themselves into the oncoming wave of enemies.

“They took the bait, my lord.”

“Yes, very good.”

The enemy’s left flank was already halfway surrounded, and their archers were mowing them down. Meanwhile, the infantry attacked them with spears.

“Do we close in on them?” asked Louis. Hermann shook his head.

“Cutting off their escape route entirely would be foolish. Don’t underestimate the damage cornered soldiers with nothing to lose can do.”

“Yes, ser.”

What an odd battle, Hermann mused. The original plan to pull the wool over our eyes was masterful, but then it devolved into mere brute force. I thought they’d read our strategy and move accordingly, but instead, it ended in this mess. I wonder what they were thinking...

The second day of battle ended in the royal army’s favor, crowned by Hermann’s success.

They had lost two thousand soldiers. The imperial army had lost five thousand.

And still Olivia’s force did not appear.

The Third Day, Cloudy

The third day continued with a series of small skirmishes, but neither army was able to land a decisive victory against the other. The right flank of the imperial army had apparently lost the stomach for battle, instead reserving their strength exclusively for defense. Word had it that Major General Minnitz was cowering in a corner of his command tent.

Around dawn of the fourth day, dark clouds covered the sky, and at last, rain began to fall.

“Looks like the heavens are on our side!” said Georg gleefully. Silas looked at him with relief.

“We are ready to move out on your orders, my lord!” he said. The Steel Chargers stood before them, rank and file. All were spoiling for battle. Morale was high, and Georg was sure they’d have no trouble penetrating the enemy defense. Thanks to the rain, their biggest problem—the flaming arrows—was no more.

Georg leapt up into the saddle, and raised his lance.

“Hear me, my glorious Steel Chargers! Today, we stab the enemy right in the heart and take their command! Cut down all who stand before you! Leave none alive!”

“Yes, my lord!” came the resounding response. The Steel Chargers followed behind Georg like a raging typhoon as they bore down on the royal army.

“My lord—!” Neinhardt started to call out, looking up at the sky, but Lambert cut him off.

“I know. They won’t pass up a chance like this. Get into a crane wing formation to meet their attack,” he said. Lambert had clearly seen this coming and planned accordingly. Neinhardt himself had run through all kinds of formations in preparation, but the crane wing formation hadn’t occurred to him.

“You want to stretch the center thin...” he said slowly. “To lure the enemy into attacking there?”

“Precisely,” said Lambert. “They want to force their way through the center and take out our command. You must have worked that much out?”

“Yes. After seeing their attack on the first day, I thought that might be the case. Though if it is, it’s rather heavy-handed.” Neinhardt looked away from Lambert to the enemy’s central force.

“Yes, but I bet he thinks with the penetrative power of the Steel Chargers, it might just work. He’s like a wild beast. That’s exactly why they won’t be able to resist such delicious bait.”

“You’re very confident, my lord.”

“I am indeed! In their place I have no doubt I couldn’t resist sinking my teeth into a chance like this. Even if I knew it was a trap,” said Lambert, with a hearty laugh. Neinhardt shrugged helplessly, then ordered that the formation changes be conveyed to the commanding officers.

I see his point... thought Neinhardt with a wry smile. But I wonder if he realizes he’s calling himself a wild beast? He then proceeded to propose an addition to Lambert’s strategy. When he’d finished explaining it, Lambert’s face scrunched up like he’d tasted something unpleasant.

“Behind that pretty face you’ve got quite a nasty streak, Neinhardt... I’m honestly a little ashamed to think I was pleased to have you on my side.”

“You honor me. Coming from you, my lord, that is the highest praise.”

“And thick-skinned to boot. Well, I expect nothing less from the aide to the commander of the First Legion,” said Lambert sarcastically. Neinhardt put a hand to his breast in a salute.

“Truly, my lord, you are far too kind. I shall go and attend to the preparations immediately.”

As he led a team of soldiers off to the supply tents, he heard Lambert heave a massive sigh from behind him.

As all this was happening, Olivia and Claudia lay pressed flat on their stomachs in a copse of trees on a hill behind the imperial army, surveying the battlefield through their spyglasses.

“As I suspected, several days have passed since the fighting commenced. I must beg your forgiveness, Lieutenant.” Claudia hadn’t meant to grip the spyglass so tightly, but now it creaked in her fist. Olivia looked over at her, puzzled.

“Don’t apologize for that. It’s not your fault, Claudia,” she said. They would have arrived at the Plains of Ilys right on schedule, if it hadn’t been for the incident at the Seams River just after they’d left the Forest of Arc. The rain from a few days earlier had caused the river to break its banks, making it impossible for them to cross.

“I know that, ser. It’s just... No, it’s not important right now. It looks to me like our forces are struggling to hold off the imperial army.”

“Yeah. The cavalry troops at the center of the imperial army are at the heart of the fighting. Their movements are really polished. They must have trained a lot,” said Olivia, clapping her hands in admiration.

“We don’t have time to appraise their strategy!” Claudia snapped without thinking. “There’s not a moment to lose. We need to launch the surprise attack right now!” She tried to stand up to go and prepare, but Olivia grabbed her arm and forced her back down. Claudia was powerless against the other girl’s strength, and crashed face first into the ground.

“Wh-What was that for?!” she spluttered, but Olivia only laughed.

“Oh no, your face is all muddy!” she said, all innocence.

“Only because you grabbed me, ser!”

“Ah, yeah. Anyway, it’s too soon to make a move. Let’s see how it goes for a bit, okay?”

“Too soon? Our forces are being overwhelmed!” Claudia glared at Olivia, rubbing at the mud on her nose. “See how it goes?” How can she be so relaxed? 

“You never rush into a fight, Claudia. It throws off your movements,” replied Olivia, unperturbed. “Besides, take another look at the center. This spyglass is so handy!” She held hers out to Claudia, who took it and begrudgingly looked through. She wasn’t convinced, but she had to agree that it would be catastrophic if the surprise attack failed because they’d been too hasty.

After watching for a while, she said, “I don’t see anything different, ser. Our forces have assumed a crane wing formation in response to the enemy’s cavalry charge.”

“Mm. Doesn’t anything look weird to you?”

“Weird? I don’t know what you mean, ser,” said Claudia, irritated and wishing Olivia would just get to the point.

“Okay, so like, you saw how the imperial cavalry obviously have the superior penetration power, right? But then why are our forces risking thinning out their center with a crane formation? Usually, you’d pick a formation that puts more of your forces in the center, so the enemy can’t get through as easily.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true...” said Claudia. The crane wing formation was used to surround and destroy your enemy, leaving the center vulnerable to attack. Olivia was right—the enemy’s penetrative power was no laughing matter. If the center broke before the left and right flanks could close around them, it would all be over.

“So, it’s weird, right? But seeing as they still went with the crane formation, I feel like it’s on purpose—like they’re setting a trap.”

“A trap... What sort of trap?” asked Claudia. Olivia scratched her cheek, frowning.

“Hmmm. I can’t tell. But if they pull it off, it’ll really throw the enemy. Those guys are the best the empire’s got. So I think we should wait and launch our surprise attack at the same time. That’ll throw the imperial army off even more and make it more likely to work. Two birds, one stone, you know?”

Claudia was stunned into silence. Olivia had made her point. She yawned widely, then stood up and brushed off the mud that covered her. Claudia watched her, feeling furious at herself for being so thoughtless.

I was so caught up in what was right in front of me I lost sight of the big picture, she realized. I’ve been so caught up worrying about the mission, I blinded myself to the plan outside of this mission. She slapped her cheeks a few times to pick herself up, then said to Olivia, “Lieutenant Olivia, I suggest we station a few soldiers here so that the moment the trap is sprung, we know. We have to strike before the enemy can get their bearings.”

“Uh, right... Yeah. Sorry, I was just confused when you slapped yourself. I’ll leave that to you then, okay?”

“Yes, ser!” Claudia saluted, and Olivia returned the salute with an awkward smile. Tilting her head this way and that like something had confused her, she went back to where their riders were hiding.

Under a nexus of competing interests, the Battle of Ilys approached its conclusion.

Georg grinned through the pouring rain as he charged down his enemies.

“My lord, please don’t just rush in! There’s something off about the enemy!” Silas called to him. He galloped along behind Georg, who knocked aside an incoming spear before smashing in the face of the soldier who’d thrust it with his lance. He pulled his horse up, wiping away brain matter and glaring at Silas.

“Something off? What’s that supposed to mean? Speak plainly, man!”

“Their attacks have been far too passive. Compared to the first day of the battle, it’s like night and day. The only explanation is that they’re planning some kind of trap,” Silas explained, but Georg snorted.

“And your point is?” he said.

“My lord? I don’t... It’s a trap, so...”

“If there’s a trap, we’ll rip our way free. Simple as that, no? Or are you suggesting that the glorious Steel Chargers can be brought down by whatever pathetic trick the royal army has cobbled together?” Georg held the point of his bloodstained lance between Silas’ eyes, who felt the blood drain from his face.

“N-No, my lord! I would never!” he replied.

“I thought not! So stop yapping and focus on taking out their command. You’ll be silent until I give you leave to speak.” Georg charged off again at the enemy’s center without waiting for Silas to reply. There wasn’t time to listen to his aide’s mewling nonsense. His moment of glory was close at hand.

As the Steel Chargers drew closer, Neinhardt returned his spyglass to his belt.

“Everything is proceeding as you said it would, my lord.”

“Of course it is. Who could resist such a tasty morsel dangled right in front of their eyes? ’Tis the tragic nature of beasts.” Neinhardt couldn’t help but let out a snort of laughter at the wistful note in Lambert’s voice.

“What? Was something amusing?” said Lambert, perplexed. Where do I begin? Neinhardt thought, but couldn’t say that. He shook his head.

“It’s nothing, my lord. Now that the enemy has taken the bait, I think it’s about time to get started. I await your command, ser.”

“Yes, you may begin,” said Lambert. Neinhardt turned and raised his hand to a soldier carrying a longbow—the best archer in the First Legion. The archer nocked a flaming arrow to his bow, drew it back, then released it up into the sky. It flew in a wide arc, coming down to lodge deep in the ground right into the path of the oncoming Steel Chargers. Around where the arrow struck, the ground around it erupted in flames.

Fire. That was their plan.

Neinhardt had gone out before the fighting commenced and laid straw soaked in oil around the spot they would lure the enemy to. The Steel Chargers now unwittingly found themselves in the middle of a sudden inferno. The smell of scorched flesh drifted across the field. It was like a scene out of hell.

Meanwhile, Olivia and Claudia were tucking into Ashton’s homemade mustard sandwiches with relish. Claudia looked overcome by emotion, nodding happily at the bread. Olivia was kicking her feet in delight, exclaiming like she always did. “This is so good!” she cried happily. No sooner had the words left her lips that their lookout came dashing in.

“The central battlefield is on fire, ser! I think the trap has been sprung!”

“Okay, good,” said Olivia. “Go tell everyone we’re leaving right away.”

“Yes, ser!” The soldier ran out again.

“Just like you said, Lieutenant,” said Claudia in amazement. “I can’t believe they decided to use fire in this rain...”

“It’s a bold move, huh? I wonder who came up with it? Thanks to them, the enemy commanders should be totally focused on the center. Makes our job easier,” said Olivia, stuffing the rest of her sandwich into her mouth. She yawned again as she left the tent. It was still raining outside.

No matter how much blood is spilt, this rain will wash it clean, she thought, smiling slightly. She met the eyes of a few other soldiers, but they looked away from her as though afraid. She cocked her head, wondering what they were scared of, then heard Claudia’s voice from behind her: “Wait for me, please!”

Imperial Command

Paris lowered his spyglass with a sigh, then turned to Osvannes.

“My lord, the enemy is using fire against the Steel Chargers. They’ve fallen into disarray.”

“What’s that?! Fire? In this weather?”

“They probably covered the ground with oil-soaked straw. The Steel Chargers took the bait, hook, line, and sinker,” Paris replied to Osvannes’ consternation. He let out an involuntary groan. He knew the flaming arrows had thrown Georg badly. He’d probably thought the rain was their chance for victory. It had been a heavy-handed strategy, but Osvannes had decided to let him do as he pleased.

“How could Georg not have realized it was a trap?” Osvannes wondered.

“My lord... I can’t say for sure, but it’s possible General Georg realized it was a trap and went in anyway.”

“What?! Why would he do that?” Osvannes demanded, unable to make sense of Paris’s words. Georg wasn’t that much of a fool.

Paris sighed as he replied. “He may have deemed any trap planned by the royal army as unworthy of his concern.” That, thought Osvannes, was plausible. Georg’s faith in his Steel Chargers was absolutely unshakable, and his record in battle only gave it weight. Osvannes could easily imagine him coming to such a conclusion.

“Shall I order them to retreat for today, my lord?” said Paris, after a moment.

“Yes. If our orders can even make it through the mess out there...”

Just then, a pale-faced soldier came barging in.

“What are you doing in here?”

“My... My lord! The enemy is behind us! They’re approaching the command tents, and fast!”

A few minutes earlier, Olivia was galloping along on her black horse.

“Lieutenant Olivia, the enemy has spotted us!” called out Claudia from beside her. Where she was looking, the enemy command’s rear guard was scrambling into position.

“So they have. Too late, though,” said Olivia, smiling and drawing her sword. She urged the black horse forwards, lopping an enemy soldier’s head off as she passed. With masterful control of her horse, she went through cutting down soldier after soldier. With each kill, black mist floated up from her ebony blade.

Everyone in the detached force seeing her in battle now for the first time were struck dumb by the gruesome massacre. Claudia was no exception. She’d read the reports, so she’d known what to expect, but seeing the terrifying extent of Olivia’s power with her own eyes was different. Her heart pounded in her chest. But the enemy was approaching, so she pulled herself together and set about cutting down the soldiers that came at her, moving towards Olivia.

“Lieutenant Olivia! You can’t just charge the enemy on your own!”

“Right, sorry! They were just wide open,” laughed Olivia, poking her tongue out. Another of their soldiers rode over.

“Another group of enemy troops are approaching, ser!” he said, pointing to where around two thousand infantry soldiers were moving to flank them. Claudia made a split-second decision.

“Lieutenant, make haste to the enemy command tent. I’ll keep this lot occupied!” she told Olivia.

“Are you sure?”

“Leave it to me, ser. I’ll see you at the command tent.” Claudia turned to their soldiers. “Third and Fourth Companies, with me!”

“Yes, ser!”

Claudia and a thousand of their soldiers charged off towards the enemy troops. Olivia watched her go, then announced breezily to the others, “Right, we can’t let Claudia outshine us. Let’s get going! Oh wait—we should kill these guys first.” It wasn’t exactly a rousing speech, but the soldiers looked emboldened by Olivia’s words. They got back to swinging their swords, and blood sprayed up into the air like snow.

“Hey,” muttered an imperial soldier watching them. “Isn’t that the monster girl those guys who went crazy were talking about? Look, she’s even got a black sword.” The impact of these words rippled through the other imperial soldiers, first as shock, and then terror.

Their commanding officer, Major Brand, roared, “Keep it together! You call yourself imperial soldiers, scared of one little girl? I’ll take her down myself!”

He ran at Olivia, spinning his spear over his head before throwing it at her face, but she brushed it aside, and the next thing anyone knew, only Brand’s legs were left on his horse, entrails dangling out from his severed lower half. Screams of terror rose up from the soldiers, and like a dam giving way they rushed to escape. Olivia’s forces were ready for them, cutting, impaling, and crushing the fleeing soldiers under their horses’ hooves. Olivia watched this patiently, then looked over to where the crossed swords banner fluttered above the commander’s tent.

“Humans really are cruel and violent creatures, Z,” she murmured.

Imperial Command

The surprise attack came from behind without warning.

While he was shaken by this unforeseen turn, Osvannes didn’t let it show as he gave Paris instructions to get them more information.

That was how they’d learned of the monster girl’s presence. They also heard of the gruesome way she’d killed the rear guard’s commanding officer.

“My lord,” said Paris, looking anguished. “You don’t think...”

“Oh, I do. This has got to be the same girl that killed Samuel. We’ve been caught totally off guard.”

“Forgive me, my lord. I should have known of this sooner,” said Paris, bowing his head. Osvannes waved him off. The blame was just as much his own for not prioritizing intelligence. He now suspected hadn’t taken the story of the monster girl entirely seriously—it just sounded too much like nonsense. Even ignoring how she’d killed Samuel... Anyway, there was no call for Paris to feel he was solely responsible.

“Don’t get hung up on it. They might call her a monster, but—” Osvannes was cut off when another soldier ran up to them, screaming. Paris raised his eyebrows, glaring daggers at the soldier.

“What do you want now?” he demanded.

“Th-Th-The monster!!!” shrieked the soldier, then fell silent. Little wonder, given the ebony-black blade protruding from his chest. His eyes rolled back into his head, and blood bubbled past his lips as the sword slowly retracted. Finally, he crumpled heavily to the ground. Behind him stood a girl with silver hair, covered head to toe in scarlet.

“Who the hell are you?!” bellowed Paris, even though it was abundantly obvious—she was the enemy. Osvannes supposed Paris just couldn’t stop himself asking.

“Uh, I’m Olivia. Now, could you tell me who the supreme commander is? Oh, and don’t try playing hide-and-seek with me. I know they’re here somewhere,” said Olivia, resting her sword on her shoulder. She cast a casual look around them. Four of his personal guard immediately sprang forwards to engage her, raising their swords as one. Olivia twirled like a dancer, and her sword flashed. The four guards froze in place, their swords still raised. That only lasted a second, though. The next moment, their torsos slid sideways, then toppled to the ground, leaving only their legs behind. Their innards spilled out along with an eruption of blood. The stink of it filled the room. It was like a bad dream, thought Osvannes, unable to do anything but gape.

Olivia went and inspected the face of each of the guards, then tilted her head and frowned.

“These aren’t the right humans... They don’t look very important. Oh!” she said, smiling. “The supreme commander is probably old, like General Paul!” She looked at Osvannes.

“My lord, get out of here, now! I can still scarcely believe it, but she’s a monster, no mistake. I won’t be able to buy you much time,” said Paris, pulling out twin daggers. He dived at Olivia, daggers crossed and pointed at her throat.

“Paris...” said Osvannes, as his aide’s head came rolling back to him. “I’m so sorry. But I can’t do that.” He reached out, and closed Paris’s eyes. He rose slowly, standing straight and tall before Olivia.

“I am Osvannes von Glarwein, Supreme Commander of the Southern Division of the Imperial Army!”

Royal Command

“My lord, the First Legion’s fire trap has pushed the enemy back.”

“I confess I was a bit taken aback when they spread out in that crane wing formation... I never imagined they were scheming up such devilry,” said Paul.

The Steel Chargers had tried to flee from the flames, only to be met by pikes blocking off their escape. They had to choose between burning alive, or impaling themselves on the enemy pikes. At that point, the left and right flanks had already closed around them, and were steadily closing in.

Paul and Otto watched from afar through their spyglasses.

“Looks like my worry over the rain was all for nothing,” said Otto.

“Didn’t I say Lambert would pull through somehow? Fire, though... That isn’t like him,” said Paul thoughtfully, lowering his spyglass and frowning. Otto had worked out who was behind the fire plan, but he didn’t say it. He was focused on what had become of the detached force, and he knew Paul felt the same.

“The detached force is taking their time.”

“My lord, you don’t think...you don’t think something happened to them on the way?”

The battle was already on its fourth day, and Otto thought it disadvantageous to wait any longer. The royal army had the upper hand for now, but that would only hold so long as no reinforcements came from Kier Fortress. If they couldn’t rely on the detached force, now was the time to launch an all-out assault.

“My lord—” He started to propose this to Paul, but the other man shook his head. The gesture said he already knew what Otto was going to say.

“I haven’t known you for twenty years for nothing. I know what’s on your mind.”

“Well, then.”

“I know this is a good opportunity. But the enemy commander is no fool. When he realizes his disadvantage, he’ll likely pull his forces back to Fort Caspar, and send for reinforcements in the meantime. And you know what happens then.” Fixed by Paul’s piercing gaze, Otto frowned but didn’t argue. A smile flitted across Paul’s face, and he clapped Otto comfortingly on the shoulder.

“I know they’re late, but this is Lieutenant Olivia we’re talking about. It’ll work out. Besides, it’s your plan, Otto! As a superior officer, you just have to trust those under you.”

Otto let this sink in for a moment, then said, “Yes, my lord.”

“Damn you, girl! Are you even human?!” gasped Osvannes, breathing hard. Olivia giggled.

“You’re funny. Obviously, I’m human.”

Osvannes swung at her again and again with what should have been fatal blows, but Olivia knocked each aside easily with her ebony blade. The tingling in his hands grew worse with every blow. He knew now that he was totally outmatched, and he couldn’t shake the sense that death was lurking just behind him.

“Can we wrap this up soon?”

“I don’t... I don’t suppose if I said no, you’d just put your sword away?” He didn’t imagine she would, of course. It was only a joke. But Olivia put her finger to her cheek, like she was considering it. Osvannes found himself darkly amused at how offhand she was about his life.

“Huh... You know, I didn’t think about what’d happen if you said no. Sorry, I didn’t use the right words. Human language is hard!” said Olivia, grinning. “Let’s try that again. I’m going to kill you now!” She spun her sword. Osvannes thought, as he raised his own sword, that he’d seen the black mist that clung to the blade somewhere before.

“Let’s finish this!” he shouted.

“Okay, ready when you are!”

Osvannes stilled his breathing, then swung his sword down with a yell. He put every ounce of his strength into the blow. It was too fast for any ordinary person to dodge.

“You move really well, Mr. Osvannes. Still too slow, though.”

His sword cut through empty space. The girl’s voice rang like a bell in his ear, just as the ebony blade flowed up through the air towards his neck. Carried by the force of his swing, there was no way for him to dodge.

Osvannes smiled faintly, and closed his eyes. Only one thought came to him in his final moment. It wasn’t the faces of his beloved family, nor his soldiers. Rather, it occurred to him that the mist around the ebony blade looked just like Chancellor Darmès’s writhing shadow.

Olivia wiped the blood from her blade. She had just returned it to its scabbard when Claudia and a few of her soldiers came running in, their breathing ragged.

“Lieutenant Olivia! You’re unhurt?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. What about you?”

“Just a scratch. Not worth worrying about,” Claudia said. Olivia inspected the other girl and saw there was a dent in her armor. Blood ran down her arms and legs, but it didn’t look like her life was in immediate danger. Olivia breathed out, and patted Claudia on the shoulder.

“Take care of yourself. You only get one life, you know.”

“Yes, ser. Your concern is appreciated,” Claudia said, then paused. “Did you take out the supreme commander?”

“Huh? That head over there is the supreme commander. He said his name was Osvannes von Glarwein.”

Olivia pointed at a head with white hair. Claudia approached it with trepidation, gulping loudly.

“You really did it, ser...”

“Well, yeah? That was the mission. Hey, shouldn’t we be lighting the beacon?”

“Y-Yes, of course!” Claudia said, ducking down and getting to work on preparing the beacon. In a matter of minutes, she’d sent a streak of red smoke up into the sky.

“That will tell the royal army to go on the offensive. What are your orders now, ser?”

“Hmmm... First off, we should make sure everyone knows that the supreme commander’s dead. That should really crush their morale. Let’s stick the head on a spear.”

“Are... Are you sure, ser?!” said Claudia, looking horrified.

“Seeing the real thing will get the message across the best. It’s fine if you don’t want to, though,” Olivia replied matter-of-factly.

“I-I didn’t... I’m on it, ser!” said Claudia, and issued the order to her soldiers. Olivia yawned, only half paying attention. They’d reached the halfway point in the battle. Next came Fort Caspar. Only halfway...

“Don’t soldiers ever get a break?!” she groaned dramatically. Claudia couldn’t help but laugh.

Royal Command

“My lord, look over there!” Otto cried out. He was agitated, pointing over at the enemy command camp where red smoke was rising into the sky. Paul chuckled.

“No need to yell, I’m right here. Lieutenant Olivia’s mission was a resounding success, by the looks of it.” He grinned, looking almost like a tiger, then began issuing orders.

“Get word to Lambert, Hermann, and Osmund. Tell them the silver spear has been thrown. All armies are to go on the offensive, and give no quarter to any who stand against them.”

“Right away, ser!” said Otto, and relayed the instructions to the other commanding officers. Paul was already swinging up onto his horse.

“Time for us to go too,” he said. Paul’s main force of five thousand soldiers began their advance.

It was an hour after the beacon had been lit.

“That... That impudent scum,” Georg said through gritted teeth. Silas caught up to him, where he stood glowering like a demon at the burnt and blackened corpses before them.

“M-My lord...” he stammered. Right beside them lay Georg’s beloved warhorse, where it had died in the flames. He hesitated over whether to share the latest ill tidings, but then steeled himself.

“My lord, command has fallen to a surprise attack by the enemy. The right flank is on the verge of collapse, and while the left flank is in good shape, I cannot say how long that will last.” He paused, then continued, “We should retreat immediately.”

Silas waited, until Georg eventually replied. “Colonel Silas... Call me ungenerous, but I’m in no mood to listen to jokes,” he rasped. He raised his charred lance and held it to Silas’s chin. Silas pushed aside his fear and forced himself to stand his ground. Every moment they lingered, the enemy was only gaining momentum. They couldn’t afford to tarry here. As long as they had Fort Caspar, they could recover their losses, but only if they were still alive to fight another day. Silas squared his shoulders, and tried again.

“My lord, let me say this again. Our command has fallen. The window for us to retreat is closing. We should retreat immediately.”

“Is Lord Osvannes safe?” said Georg slowly.

“Reports... Reports say the enemy is going about boasting of how they killed Lord Osvannes. I cannot speak to the truth of it, but the Seventh Legion is attacking with renewed ferocity.”

“I see... Things have ended up the total opposite of our battle with the Sixth Legion. I suppose that’s what I get for underestimating my enemy,” muttered Georg, and Silas thought he heard an uncharacteristic note of remorse in the man’s voice. He waited in silence for Georg to continue.

“How many of our Chargers are still alive?” Georg eventually asked.

“Only two-thirds remain... And perhaps half of those can still fight.”

“I see. Get them into a defensive formation with the wounded at the center. When that’s done, we fall back to Fort Caspar.”

“Right away, ser!”

To Silas’s relief, a calculating gleam had returned to Georg’s eyes. He immediately set about gathering their soldiers, and they began their retreat.

“What are you standing there for?!” screeched Minnitz. “Retreat to Fort Caspar!” His eyes were bloodshot. While his advisors tried desperately to soothe him, his main commanding officers ignored them and went about getting ready to retreat. It wasn’t that they were following Minnitz’s orders; they just didn’t want to die, and especially not alongside their ass of a commander. No one said as much, but their feelings were writ plain on their faces.

As Minnitz’s advisor, Mars was at the end of his tether, but he still hesitated to speak back to the man. He knew if he opened his mouth now, all that venom would come down on him. Too late, he found himself appreciating how well Lyoness had kept the peace.

It was just as they were ready to begin the retreat that it happened. Afterwards, they would say that Major General Minnitz had been killed in the Battle of Ilys by a royal arrow. The truth was a little different.

“Where is Lord Minnitz’s horse?” demanded an advisor. “Do you cretins mean to make his lordship run from the battlefield?” Mars, who was leading the retreat, replied coolly, “I am not Lord Minnitz’s stablehand. If he requires a mount, he had best find one himself.”

The advisor looked thunderstruck. “You dare! What you just said is treason! But his lordship will forgive you this time. Go now and bring him a horse!”

“Accuse me of treason if you like. Go on!” said Mars, drawing himself close to the man, before punching him hard in the gut. The advisor groaned, and curled up in a ball on the ground. Another threw himself at Mars, but he was too slow. Mars ducked away and stuck out a foot to send the man sprawling, before kicking him hard. The man vomited up bile before he passed out. Minnitz’s advisors were really little more than bureaucrats. They didn’t have a hope against a military commander like Mars.

Minnitz finally noticed the commotion, and cried out, “Wretch! How dare you lay hands on my advisors! I’ll have your head!”

“Will you now, my lord?” said Mars. As Minnitz drew his sword, all the officers drew their bowstrings back.

“What’s this?! Do you know who I am? The blood of the imperial family runs in my veins! Have you lost your minds?!” bellowed Minnitz, spraying them with spittle.

“It’s no good yelling, ser,” replied Mars, his perfect composure never wavering. “Thanks to your incompetence, the honorable Major Lyoness is dead. What’s more, he died so that you could escape.”

“This is foolishness! I was almost killed because of his schemes! It’s only right that he’s dead! I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Yes, and that’s why you’re going to die here,” said Mars, and shot Minnitz. The arrow buried itself in Minnitz’s forehead, and the man toppled forwards. He was, of course, already dead.

“D-D-Do you have any idea what you’ve—?” began one of the advisors, just as Mars yelled “Shoot them!” The officers released their arrows, and the advisors writhed like fish dragged up on land as they died.

“It saddens me to report that Lord Minnitz and his trusted advisors have been killed by royal archers. He laid down his life on the battlefield with honor. Now, we must retreat to Fort Caspar and alert them to these events.”

“Yes, ser!” his soldiers chorused back. Mars mounted his horse, and led his remaining troops in a retreat.

Georg and his Steel Chargers fought tooth and nail to get away from the battlefield. They pushed back more than twenty enemy attacks as they left the Plains of Ilys, in a show of military brilliance that would go down in the history of Duvedirica.

“Once we get past these rocks, we’ll be out on the plateau. Maybe we can rest there...”

“I don’t think that’s going to work, ser,” said Silas.

As though in mockery of Georg’s words, yet more enemies appeared in front of them.

“Don’t they ever give up?” he said.

“My lord, look over there!” said Silas, outraged. He pointed to a girl on a black horse. She held a pike, with the head of General Osvannes impaled on the point.

“So these are the ones who attacked our command...” Georg muttered, gritting his teeth so hard that he tasted blood.

“Do we eliminate them?” asked Silas. George gave a despairing laugh. Only two thousand of their force survived, and every one of them was battered and exhausted. That only their fighting spirit hadn’t faltered did them worse than no good.

“When did you start throwing caution to the wind? Are you feeling all right, Silas?”

“It seems, my lord, that I’ve caught on to your bad habits. Also, I for one will not stand here and leave Lord Osvannes in such a state,” he said, and drew a dark-colored blade. The other riders readied their lances, and they moved into position to charge.

“Fools, one and all,” chuckled Georg with a smile. “That’s my Chargers for you!” With that, he spurred his horse towards the royal army forces. Silas and the other two thousand riders thundered after him, like a single, galloping beast.

Georg rode straight for the silver-haired girl, who sat astride her black horse at the center of the enemy force. Under any other circumstances, he’d have laughed with scorn at the royal army for fielding a little girl. Now, though, his senses told him that she was dangerous, and he trusted them. He turned his lance on the horse first, to cut down her mobility.

“How?!” He gasped as the girl knocked his lance aside with her ebony blade, sending it clattering to the ground. There’d been so much power behind the parry that he couldn’t keep his grip on it.

“It’s cruel to kill horses,” said the girl. His hunch had been correct. This girl...

“You’re the one who killed Lord Osvannes, then?”

“Lord Osvannes...?” Her eyes flicked up to the impaled head, then she looked back at him and smiled. “Oh, yeah. I cut his head off.”

“Just as I thought... What’s your name, girl?”

“Me? I’m Olivia.”

“Well, don’t worry, Olivia. I won’t forget you when you’re dead!” Georg drew his sword from his hip, and swung it savagely at Olivia. Swing, strike, cut her down. But he couldn’t even scratch her. She neatly dodged every blow. He backed away from her, trying to bring his ragged breathing under control. A breathless laugh escaped him.

“I don’t believe it. You’re barely even trying...”

“Can we wrap this up now? Wait, no. I’m going to kill you now!”

“Come on then!”

Georg kicked his horse, and galloped right at Olivia. He held his sword in his right hand, and swung it with all his power. But Olivia wasn’t there.

“No!”

She hadn’t just dodged his killing blow, she had used her horse like a stepladder to leap into the air. The last thing Georg saw was Olivia in midair with her sword pointed straight down, right before the blade stabbed into him.

“My lord! Nooo!!!” yelled Silas. He turned his horse, and raced towards them, brandishing his sword. Olivia took Georg’s sword from his hand, then threw it at Silas. It whistled through the air, before passing right through Silas’ head and embedding itself in the cliff behind them like a crucifixion.

An hour later, the mighty Steel Chargers were no more.

It was the fourth day of the battle.

The rain that had fallen since morning abated, and warm sunlight shone through gaps in the clouds.