IV
Stonian Army Command
“Lieutenant Colonel Roland is dead!”
“Colonel Reinbach is dead!”
“Major General Eberhard is dead!”
Each runner came in and out, only to be replaced by another reporting the deaths of brave Stonian officers. No fear could have been worse than that which permeated the command camp.
So it came to this, in the end, Felix thought, listening to the shouting around him. I did anticipate it, to a degree... Through his spyglass, he saw the Stonian soldiers immobilized by innumerous vines. Turning the glass further to the west, he saw another hellish scene unfold as a downpour of fire rained upon them from the cloudless sky above. This was clear evidence of magecraft, which confirmed the presence of at least two different mages in the Winged Crusaders.
One uses binding magecraft, he thought. I’d be willing to bet that that’s Amelia Stolast’s work. The other one favors flame-based magecraft. And broad area-of-effect magecraft... The mage in question appears to possess exceptional talent. The Holy Land of Mekia has far exceeded my expectations with the excellence of the players it’s assembled. Minor nation or not, we cannot afford to underestimate them. As much as I feel for the Stonian Army, this information is worth its weight in gold.
He returned his spyglass to the holster at his belt when, from behind him, he heard the rough thump of stomping footsteps. Turning, Felix saw August storming towards him, his face like thunder.
“Marshal August, is something the matter?” he asked.
“You ask me what the matter is! What in the blazes was that?”
“By ‘that,’ you mean...?”
In response, August rounded on Felix with such ferocity it seemed he might strike him, seizing him in a fierce grip. Felix felt his feet lift very slightly off the ground—no mean feat, even using both hands, given that he was clad in full armor. He was appreciating August’s exceptional strength when he heard Teresa cry out in a furious voice he’d never heard from her before.
“Lord August! Release him at once! Where is your respect for Lord Felix?”
“Blathering wench! You’ll hold your tongue!” he roared back.
“Did you call me a wench...?!” Teresa’s face flushed with anger.
Felix, fearing she might fly off the handle, endeavored to keep his voice calm. “Lieutenant Teresa,” he said, “there’s nothing to worry about.”
“But my lord, he—”
“I’m fine,” Felix said, then smiled at her. At last, though she continued to watch him with a face like she wanted to interject further, she nodded begrudgingly.
“Lord August, he is a prominent figure in the imperial army,” Cecilia chimed in, requesting that August calm himself. Returning to his senses, he lowered Felix back to the ground looking abashed, then, after clearing his throat a few times, he adjusted his posture and lightly inclined his head to Felix.
“You’ll forgive my disrespect,” he said shortly. “But I’ll ask again—just what was that?”
“I assume by ‘that,’ you are referring to the magecraft?”
“Like you even need to ask. Mages in the Winged Crusaders? Now that’s a nasty shock. You wouldn’t...” He paused, the fury in his eyes morphing into suspicion. “I’m sure you didn’t know that, Felix?” Cecilia stared at him too, a similar, if less intense, look in her eyes.
“Know that there were mages in the Winged Crusaders?” Felix inquired.
“Exactly!” August cried, his voice rising again.
Felix answered casually. “Oh yes, I knew that, of course.”
“You...?! You knew, and concealed it from me?!”
“That’s right.”
“What the hell?! If we’d known before—”
“If you’d known,” Felix cut him off, “do you really think you could have fought properly? Mages have transcended the bounds of common humans. In the imperial army, at least, we know this. I imagine the Stonian Army is much the same, no?”
“Yes,” August said at length. “Both human and not. They are inhuman changelings.”
“That’s just it. Your soldiers’ morale was already low. The presence of mages could have been a lethal poison in the minds of the Stonian Army. I am confident I made the correct call.”
The people of most countries, not only in the empire, believed that magecraft was the stuff of fairy tales. There were said to have been a fair few of the people called “mages” long ago, but now their numbers were limited. Felix could see where the fairy-tale idea had come from. Anyone in the military would still be aware that mages existed, but those who had seen magecraft with their own eyes would be few and far between, if any. Mages were a rare breed, of this there was no doubt, and this was why they were deified and held in awe.
At last, August said, “All right, I admit you may be right. But why was the soldiers’ morale so low in the first place, eh?” His voice grew heated, and his fists trembled. That he wasn’t reaching for Felix’s collar again was probably in part his self-restraint at work, but Felix thought Cecilia’s sharp gaze on him was the greatest factor.
“Respectfully,” Felix said, choosing words he thought would needle August, “I believe it’s the duty of the marshal of the Stonian Army to make do despite such things. However you arrived at it, the final decision to fight was yours, after all.”
August grunted with suppressed fury.
“You seem to know a fair amount about these mages, Felix,” Cecilia remarked.
“Indeed, Cecilia, I believe myself to be fairly well-informed where mages are concerned,” Felix acknowledged. “I’ve had the opportunity to know a somewhat eccentric mage.”
“Is that right...?” Cecilia said. “I’m afraid I only have a passing familiarity with mages myself. I wonder if I might trouble you to share a little of that knowledge with me?” She bowed low, her golden hair falling over her shoulders.
“You don’t have to grovel to him, Major General,” August said waspishly.
“My lord, our plan succeeded for but a moment before magecraft tore through it like a knife through butter. Our entire army is on the verge of collapse. This is not the time to get hung up on trivialities.” Having thus reprimanded August, Cecilia once more appealed to Felix.
“Please, Cecilia, stand up,” Felix said. “Of course I’ll tell you. At this point, there is nothing more valuable than information.”
With this, he faced the two of them and began to explain.
“Very well. I see now,” Cecilia said. “So there are limitations to godlike powers; they come with a price.”
Summarizing Felix’s explanation, mages could be said to possess three main qualities.
One: when a mage used magecraft, it would always stem from the mage circle in their left hand.
Two: casting a spell took time commensurate with its power.
Three: mana, the source of the mages’ power, was not only limited, but a double-edged sword that, if exhausted, would cause the mage’s instant death.
Taking all this into account, Cecilia arrived at the conclusion that, while the threat of the mages remained unchanged, it was not impossible to counter.
“Just so,” Felix said when she proposed it. “Mages might have powers beyond ordinary humans, but they are not invincible. Cut them with a sword, and they will bleed. Wound them severely enough, and you can kill them. Take away their magecraft, and they are no different from an ordinary human. You have plenty of options.”
So strong was Felix’s assurance that Cecilia had to suppress a sardonic smile. There was plenty in what he said that she could agree with, but she also thought it was only the strongest man in the empire could speak so. Without any plan, she didn’t think for a second that an ordinary soldier had any chance. She observed him, finding not a shadow of trepidation in his noble bearing. I think... No, I’m certain that he’s crossed swords with a mage before. And here he is, alive. He must have something to match the mages... Cecilia concluded, then turned back to August, who looked just as peeved as before.
“Let’s order an immediate retreat, my lord,” she said. “By analyzing what Felix has told us, we can plan a number of ways to combat the mages, but we don’t have enough time right now.”
“Huh,” Felix said approvingly. August, meanwhile, glared daggers at her, his shoulders quivering.
“You think...you think we should tamely withdraw?” he gritted out. He might not have wanted this battle, but the rage in his face illustrated well that his warrior’s pride would not permit him to retreat.
Knowing what lay in August’s heart of hearts, Cecilia gave an emphatic nod. “Regrettably, yes,” she said. “The soldiers’ morale may as well be nonexistent at this point. Even with a force twice as great as our enemy’s, it will not be nearly enough. It won’t make any difference.”
“But if we retreat,” August said slowly, looking at Felix with resentment burning in his eyes, “that won’t satisfy the empire.”
“We shall have their satisfaction,” Cecilia retorted. “We have put nearly all our forces into this battle. If we are crushed here, the Principality of Stonia will be finished. One day, it shall cease to appear on any map of Duvedirica. I cannot believe that this is the wish of the empire at this time.”
Though they were nothing more than rumors, she had heard that the Kingdom of Fernest was beginning to make a comeback. And if that were true, Stonia surely still had utility to the empire as a shield. This was Cecilia’s assessment as she folded her arms and turned back to Felix, who was listening quietly. “Does that work for you, Felix?” she asked.
Felix scratched his face with a slender finger. His lips quirked slightly as he said, “The two of you appear to be laboring under a misapprehension.”
“Whatever might that be?”
“I am only here as a military advisor. My role here is to offer advice, not to supply my opinion on the decisions of the Stonian Army.”
“You say that now, after you set this off?” August said forcefully.
“Well, I don’t deny that,” Felix admitted. “But if you are going to retreat, you ought to hurry. I think it may become nearly impossible if you let this chance pass you by.”
“Felix is right, my lord,” Cecilia said. “The Winged Crusaders are gathering momentum. Please, order the retreat.”
At this second entreaty, August’s fist, until now tightly clenched, loosened, and he heaved a deep sigh.
“Give the order for all forces to retreat,” he said.
“At once, ser!”
Command of the Winged Crusaders
“There is news, ser. A red beacon was fired from what we believe is the location of the Stonian command. The Stonian soldiers responded by falling back en masse.”
With its sturdy exterior and streamlined silhouette, the massive, six-wheeled chariot shone silver. Lara was atop it, observing the progress of the battle, when the runner came with their news. She rose slowly from her ornate chair, and said, “So the Stonian Army has begun its retreat...” She might have been talking to herself, but someone responded.
“Looks like Lady Amelia and Lord Johann’s magecraft got results,” said a sleepy voice. It came from a woman standing off to one side of the chariot. Beside her a brilliantly white horse waited sedately. The woman, who had pale purple hair the same color as the Seraph’s, was named Historia von Stampede. No one would have guessed it from her tousled hair and indolent expression, but she was the angel who guarded the Twelfth Gate—the final gate in La Chaim Palace. She was also not only Lara’s right hand, but her irreplaceable friend.
“Can’t you compose yourself a little more, Historia? There’s a battle going on.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible, ser. I can’t resist my physiological needs.” Blinking her half-open eyelids, Historia yawned widely a few times, looking totally relaxed. Lara could only shake her head in disbelief.
“I swear...” she muttered. “You are still the leader of the Twelve Angels. How can you set an example for the guardians like this?”
“Well, it’s not like I wanted to be leader,” Historia said with a huff, putting her hands on her hips. Before she opened her mouth, a muscle began twitching in Lara’s cheek.
“Well, well...” she said. “Are you dissatisfied with the decree of our blessed Seraph, Historia?”
“There! There, you said it! You really love the Seraph, don’t you, Lara?” Historia said, gloating. Lara felt her ears getting very hot very fast. The guardians nearby were giving them curious looks, so she cowed them with her own forceful stare.
“Everyone is watching. Don’t be so familiar when we’re in public,” Lara scolded.
“Yes, ser. I’m very sorry,” Historia replied breezily. “Now, what’s our next move? Personally, I feel like if they want to retreat, it’s like, be my guest. It’s so much easier that way.” Looking out at the battle unfolding in the distance, Historia yawned lazily.
Lara let out a snort. “Don’t be an idiot. We’re pursuing them, that’s out of the question. They trespassed on Mekia’s sacred soil, and puppet of the empire they may be, but I will see them pay for it.”
“Yeah, you would say that, Lara. I knew you would,” Historia said. She glanced at Lara then sighed extravagantly.
“I told you not to be so familiar.”
“Yes, ser. Understood, ser.”
“You only need to say it once, Twin Blade Historia.”
At once, Historia’s gaze turned sharp. “Hey, could you cut it out with that absolutely mortifying name?”
Lara smiled blithely back at her.
The House of Stampede was known of old as a family excelling in the literary arts, but since Historia had taken up the blade as effortlessly as she used her own arms and legs from the time she was a child, there was no shortage of those who now mistook them for a family of warriors. Her talent was such that, in a pure contest of swordplay, even Lara couldn’t match her.
“But Angelica and the others seemed pleased with their epithets,” Lara remarked.
“Excuse me?! Do not lump me in with that perpetual airhead!”
“Then behave yourself.”
Historia sighed. “Fine,” she said. Hooking her left foot in the stirrups, she swung up deftly onto the white horse, then drew her sword, holding it high aloft. Her earlier sleepiness was all gone now; she was like a different person, beautiful and yet gallant. The eyes of all the guardians were drawn inexorably to her.
“Hear me, my beloved guardians!” she cried. “Thanks to your efforts, our victory is all but assured! But we are not finished yet! In their folly, the Stonian Army dared to challenge the Holy Land of Mekia—now, they will face our holy wrath! With this, we prove our fealty to the Seraph!”
There was a roar of assent from the guardians. Historia turned back to Lara. “Blessed Wing Lara, we await your order.”
Lara’s left hand swung up and she declared, “Commence the attack.” At her words, the four black horses whinnied, and the chariot tore away across the battlefield. At the same time, a battle cry rose up from the thirteen thousand guardians, and they began to advance.
Scarcely half a day had passed since battle had commenced between the Winged Crusaders and the Stonian Army, yet already, it was nearing its conclusion...
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