IV
The Imperial Army, Fort Astora
When Major General Fermat Lancelot, to whom had been assigned command of Fort Astora, received word of the Royal Army’s incoming assault, their vanguard was already on his doorstep.
“Why didn’t we notice that the Royal Army was this close?!” Fermat threw the glass he held in his hand at his aide, Colonel Hassel Trident, who stood in front of him. A red stain spread over the man’s uniform, and there was the sound of breaking glass as fragments sprayed across the floor. Hassel, who had devoted himself in every aspect of his life to soldiering, didn’t so much as flinch.
“It appears that they used the night as a cloak to stage their incursion.”
“Do you think I’ll accept that excuse?! Why do you think we have guards? They’re not birds to be kept away with scarecrows!”
“I never once thought to use scarecrows, ser.”
“Then how is it that you allowed them to get this close?!”
“Our enemy was simply that clever, ser,” Hassel replied blandly, not looking at all abashed. Fermat was seized by a sensation like all the blood flowing through his body had suddenly reversed its course. But questioning Hassel further wouldn’t change the reality of the situation. Fermat forced his anger down into the pit of his stomach.
“Well, anyway,” he said. “Send messengers with all haste to Fort Belganna and Fort Rochfell. And to the capital too.”
“Yes, ser.”
“And how many soldiers is the Royal Army attacking us with, anyway?”
“We’re still waiting on detailed reports...” Hassel said slowly. “But from what the guards on watch said, I expect we will end up with a figure over sixty thousand.”
“S-Sixty thousand...?!” Fermat repeated, reeling. The number far exceeded anything he had imagined. The Crimson Knights’ departure for Kier Fortress had left Fort Astora now with a defensive garrison of only three thousand. It would not even be a fight.
Fermat noticed Hassel looking like he wanted to say something more. “Is there anything else?” he asked.
“We have sighted a great many soldiers in leaf-green armor among the enemy forces. They are flying different banners from the Royal Army’s.”
Fermat’s mind immediately went to the soldiers in leaf-green armor who had struck such a powerful blow against the Crimson Knights at Fort Astora the previous year—the Winged Crusaders of the Holy Land of Mekia.
“You don’t mean to say that Fernest and Mekia have joined their forces?!”
“I cannot say for certain, only that it appears extremely likely.”
Since the beginning of this second war for the unification of the continent, not a single other nation had allied itself with Fernest. This alone was enough to heighten Fermat’s shock, but more than that, hearing that the ally in question was Mekia of all people intensified his sense of danger. Not only had the Winged Crusaders toyed with the elite Crimson Knights, but most importantly, they were backed by the Illuminatus Church. Mekia could not be written off as a mere minor nation.
“Also...”
“There’s more?!” Fermat exclaimed, unable to keep his voice low. Hassel went on calmly as though he hadn’t heard this outburst.
“A subsection of our soldiers have become agitated after seeing black banners with the Death God’s crest on them.”
“The Death God’s crest?” Despite himself, Fermat inhaled sharply. “You’re sure that’s what they saw?” Only one person dared raise those banners.
“The banners are very distinctive. I doubt there is any chance they could be mistaken.”
Fermat shut his mouth. Hassel was right—one look at that mark was enough to burn it into the mind forever. It would be harder not to recognize it. He had no choice but to accept that the Death God had joined the battle.
But why is the Royal Army attacking Fort Astora in the first place? It would make far more sense to turn them on Kier Fortress, if they have this many soldiers to spare. And the bit I really don’t follow is why the Death God—their best piece—is marching here and not on Kier Fortress.
“Something troubles you, ser?” Hassel inquired.
“It’s nothing,” Fermat replied at length. “Preparations are underway to meet the attackers, I assume?”
“We are proceeding with all thoroughness, ser,” Hassel said, nodding.
“Looking at the numbers, we don’t have a hope of driving them off. All we can do is hunker down behind our defenses until reinforcements arrive. Relay that to all the forces.”
“Yes, ser.”
Fermat wiped his mouth roughly with a handkerchief, then at once rose from his chair.
“Even if they do have a Death God in their ranks, that does not mean we are going to let them run rampant on imperial land. Make sure you remember to tell the soldiers that too.”
“Yes, ser.”
“And I’ll be commanding directly.” Fermat left the mess hall with Hassel, heading for the watchtower.
Second Allied Legion Command
Having surrounded Fort Astora, the Second Allied Legion began a ranged assault with successive longbow volleys.
“Pretty hard to see you taking down the fort if you keep this mode of attack up,” Blood pointed out, folding his arms as he surveyed the battle.
Ashton scratched his cheek. “I don’t think we’ll conquer the fort like this, of course,” he said. “I’m not that much of an optimist.”
“As much as I don’t want to start questioning you after I put you in charge of this, Lieutenant Colonel...” The imperials, faced with a massive army, had immediately opted to hole up in the fort, just as they had predicted. They no doubt meant to hold out for reinforcements, but Ashton had already placed soldiers along the routes he predicted they would take, with orders to dispatch any messengers who appeared without hesitation.
No reports have arrived of any messengers getting through at this stage. Things seem to be going to plan, on the whole, but for more reasons than one, we can’t afford to waste time.
Rubbing the back of his head and glancing over his shoulder, Blood saw Amelia standing imposingly behind him. From the rhythmic tapping of her fingers, he deduced that she was extremely annoyed. Ashton too seemed to notice the pressure radiating off her, as he was trembling.
An hour passed.
“It’s about time we finished this.” Amelia’s patience, it appeared, had reached its limit. She stepped forward toward them, in precisely the same moment that the runners Ashton had just given orders to all dashed away. Not long after, a rain of arrows dense enough to block out the sky flew at Fort Astora, followed by the sound of wheels turning as a line of siege ladders rose up along the fort wall. With valiant cries, soldiers began to clamber up.
So that was his plan. It’s a good one. Under any circumstances, it’s no easy thing to stay vigilant at all times on the battlefield. He lulled them into relaxing their guard with the monotony of those repeated attacks on purpose, waiting for his moment to strike when they least expected it. Then he used the disorder that created to get the siege ladders up... But...
What bothered Blood was that these siege ladders looked very different from the ones he knew—the most prominent example of this being the heavy plates that enclosed each ladder. They were also twice the size of a standard siege ladder.
“Were those ladders built on your instructions?”
“They were. With ordinary ladders, the soldiers get stuck with arrows before the ladders reach the walls, so I had these ones wrapped around with planks, then covered again with a thin layer of steel. Now they should be able to withstand even flaming arrows. The tricky part is that they’re extremely heavy, making transporting them challenging.”
“You worked that brain of yours hard, didn’t you?”
“I want to keep as many of our soldiers alive as I can,” Ashton said simply. Blood, however, thought that these new siege ladders were going to change the face of siege warfare.
Old Paul did call him a tactician of rare talent... At this stage, Ashton’s incredible mind was worth as much as an army of tens of thousands.
Blood felt a vague chill of fear and stole another look behind him at Amelia. Her demeanor had changed—she was now looking at Ashton as if to size him up.
“I don’t see Liv or Colonel Claudia,” Blood commented, raising the other point he had been wondering about. “Where are they?”
No sooner had he said it than Ashton’s eyes began to dart around nervously. Blood watched without a word until at last, with an air of resignation, Ashton pointed to the siege ladders.
Blood rubbed the back of his head. “Look,” he said, “the thing is, Liv is actually the second-in-command for the whole Second Allied Legion. You do know what that means, right?”
Olivia refusing to act according to common sense was nothing new, and it was precisely this that had given the imperial army so much grief. But even Blood was not about to condone a plan that involved the second-in-command of his army leading the charge right into the middle of the enemy just because of that.
“Colonel Claudia tried everything she could to stop her...”
“But in the end, she couldn’t be stopped, and so Colonel Claudia went with her?” Ashton looked at his feet, and Blood sighed deeply. “If the worst happens and Liv dies here, the whole strategy collapses. You can’t tell me you don’t know that.”
Of course, Blood did not think Olivia could lose in a one-on-one fight. But this was not a duel—it was war. What would she do if she were attacked by a hundred, or even a thousand soldiers? No matter how incomparable her strength was, it had to have a limit. That was the nature of being human.
Ashton appeared to hesitate, then he said timidly, “I just can’t imagine Olivia dying.”
“Then you need to stretch the wings of your imagination a bit more. I’m sure it’s because you’ve seen her power up close that you say that, but everything alive, from the moment we’re born, is on a journey that ends in death. The same goes for our awe-inspiring Death God Liv. And going into war is like being forced to break into a sprint on that journey. Remember that.”
“Yes, General...” Ashton said helplessly. Blood, realizing that he’d given a lecture out of character for him, clapped Ashton on the shoulder. He then pulled out a cigarette and put it in his mouth. It was not long after this that a roar of triumph rose up from the fort walls.
The Walls of Fort Astora
Shortly before Blood and Ashton’s exchange, up on the walls of Fort Astora, the tension in the air was gradually loosening. The reason for this was simply that the Royal Army had done nothing but shoot at them from long range.
“They’ve got that giant army and yet they’re still just sitting there without attacking.”
“Yeah, I was fully convinced they’d rely on strength of numbers and charge at us...”
“If this keeps up, we should be able to hold out until reinforcements get here.”
“Maybe. Still, doesn’t something seem off to you?”
“You lot!” their commander barked, unable to tolerate any more. “Less running your mouths and more focusing on the battle!”
Fermat watched quietly from behind as paranoia spread through his soldiers as they returned fire.
“General Fermat...”
“The soldiers are starting to feel like something isn’t right too.”
“It seems so.” Hassel frowned, staring eagle-eyed out over the wall. Three hours had passed since hostilities commenced, but the Royal Army still had not made any conspicuous moves. Common wisdom dictated that they should have charged the walls, accepting a few casualties to overwhelm them by sheer force of numbers. It was only natural the soldiers would grow suspicious. If this were enough to bring down a fort, it would save everyone a lot of hardship.
“You don’t think they’re waiting until we exhaust our food supplies, do you?”
“Starvation tactics, eh?” Velmer didn’t think this was entirely outside the realm of possibility, but usually starving out an army meant waiting at least a few months. The latest reports indicated that the enemy army numbered more than seventy thousand in total. It would take an absolutely stupendous volume of food to keep such a host fed over the course of a long siege, and he seriously doubted the Royal Army would be able to procure so much. So long as the United City-States of Sutherland stayed loyal to the empire, an ample supply of food would remain out of Fernest’s reach. Just as Velmer opened his mouth to voice this opinion, the soldiers all began clamoring. The reason was obvious—above them rose a cloud of arrows, blotting out the sky.
“Hold your ground! Shields up!” Hassel bellowed. The soldiers raised their shields above their heads, just as a piercing screech rang out and Fermat saw a number of what looked like towering boxes rapidly approaching the fort walls.
“What are those?!”
“Aren’t... Aren’t those siege ladders?”
“Have you ever seen siege ladders like that?”
It wasn’t long before Hassel was proved correct. The Royal Army’s soldiers disappeared inside the boxes only to pour out from the top—the time Fermat’s soldiers had wasted defending themselves proved their downfall. Meanwhile, the box’s enclosures, presumably to deflect incoming arrows, were more than living up to the task.
Their timing was flawless. Whoever’s giving the orders over there, it’s as though they’re perfectly in tune with the flow of the battle.
Despite the awe he felt, Fermat immediately shouted, “Don’t allow the enemy any furth—?!”
He broke off as he saw a shadow shoot up into the sky against the glare of the sun. It spun gracefully through the air to land lightly on the fort wall.
Is that...? The soldier stood up slowly, and Fermat’s breath caught as he took in the shimmering silver hair, the ebony armor with its muted sheen, and the breastplate adorned with a skull and two crossed scythes over a background of roses.
It has to be. It’s her...
The soldier pulled off her helmet and tossed it aside as though it were annoyance, revealing a face of incomparably exquisite beauty.
“Helmets really get in the way. And they’re so hot,” she said, casually sidestepping a spear thrust that came from her blind spot. Her black blade flashed, suddenly appearing in her hand, as she easily beheaded the attacker. The headless corpse crumpled, still holding out the spear.
“That’s Death God Olivia!”
The soldiers who recognized Olivia were thrown into a state of violent panic. Those who only screamed were the better ones; some tried to run away as fast as their legs would carry them.
“Don’t let your fear get to you! Anyone who kills the Death God will have a place in the Three Generals in their future!” Fermat shouted, as much to fire himself up as the soldiers. Obviously, nothing of the sort had been promised, but it was what the Death God’s head was worth.
“You hear what General Fermat said?”
“That means standing alongside Lord Felix and Lady Rosenmarie.”
“The empire’s Three Generals... Has a nice ring to it, eh?”
A wild gleam appeared in the eyes of some of the soldiers—all of them experienced fighters. No sooner did one of them turn to charge at Olivia than the others followed like an avalanche.
“Rrrroooaaahhh!” they bellowed, but if Olivia was perturbed, she didn’t show it. She gracefully parried the onslaught of blades that came swinging at her; then, a moment later, the soldiers’ heads and limbs flew off in all directions amid a great spray of blood that unfurled in the air like a flower. She was like a whirlpool of light in which brilliance and brutality swirled together. Even as Fermat was gripped by fear, he also felt his heart drawn to the inexpressible beauty of her power.
“General.” Hassel’s voice brought him back to reality. The whirlwind of death had subsided, leaving the area around them strewn with unidentifiable lumps of flesh. The heavy stench of blood reached Fermat, and he looked around to see that his soldiers, their will to fight all but extinguished, were falling in droves at the hands of the newly invigorated Royal Army. He realized there was no driving them back now.
“I’m afraid we have to abandon the fort,” he said. Thinking that if they blocked the gate through the wall, it would buy them a little time, he wasted none further. Privately disgusted at his own incompetence, he set off running with his personal guard, only to realize that Hassel was not with them. He stopped and turned. Behind him, Hassel stood motionless.
“What’re you playing at?!”
“I will hold the Death God off here.”
“Hold her off...?” Fermat exclaimed. “Don’t go thinking even you’ll buy us any time against her. Now come on!”
Hassel’s valor was well known, but the Death God had already slaughtered too many of the fiercest warriors in the empire. Even if Hassel had possessed skill greater than any of them, Fermat did not think for an instant that it would be enough to defeat the Death God.
“This is mere selfishness on my part. As a warrior, I wish to try my spear against the Death God. You needn’t worry about me,” Hassel said. He didn’t turn around, but his voice was clear.
Hassel must have felt something like what I did when he saw her fight, Fermat thought. Sensing the blazing force of the other man’s spirit, Fermat doubted he would have moved even if the one ordering it were the emperor himself.
“Very well,” he said. “You can do as you please.”
Hassel nodded silently. Leaving him behind, Fermat and his guards set off down the stairs.
Hassel twirled his spear, then held it straight out toward Olivia as she approached.
“I’ll have you stop right there,” he said.
“You’re not going to run with the other humans?”
“That’s right. I couldn’t pass up the chance to fight the Death God.”
“Huh. I mean, I don’t mind...” Olivia flicked off the sticky film of blood and ichor that clung to her blade.
“My name is Hassel Trident!” Hassel declared.
“I’m Olivia Valedstorm.”
There was a brief silence, then—
“Have at you!” Hassel raised his long-bladed spear, Moonlit Mist, the heirloom of the Trident family. He spun it above his head, then brought it around to slash at Olivia. But she was gone, leaping away higher than any human should have been able to. Moonlit Mist only succeeded in knocking aside another Royal Army soldier in its path. Hassel held his spear up at an angle.
“Just the sort of move I’d expect from a Death God—but running away into the sky was a mistake!” He thrust up Moonlit Mist with all his strength, just as Olivia slammed into it with the edge of her ebony blade. She used the force of the impact to throw herself to one side, twisting as she landed. Hassel didn’t wait. He kicked off and charged at Olivia. “Think you’re clever, do you? Try and dodge my rapid stabs!” Mustering all the power he could in his arms, he unleashed a wild barrage of deadly strikes at Olivia. But she did dodge them all, flowing like water around his spear. She moved like a master dancer.
Hassel gnashed his teeth in frustration, then suddenly felt a fierce pain in his right arm. He looked down and saw a spray of fresh blood fill the air like mist as his arm fell to the ground. And that wasn’t the end. Olivia, who should have been in front of him, now stabbed the ebony blade through his back, tearing through his guts.
“Guh...!” Hassel fell to his knees, powerless against the pain that wracked him as though he had been plunged into an inferno. Moonlit Mist fell from his hand with a metallic clink.
All the warrior’s arts I gave my life to refining amounted to nothing against the Death God... Countless unseen hands reached out to drag his consciousness down into the darkness, as the black mist that rolled off the ebony blade wrapped him tenderly in its embrace...
“Seal the gates through the wall.”
“But there are still soldiers...” The guard began to protest, then stopped. “Understood, ser.”
When they were partway down the steps, Fermat thought he heard Hassel’s voice.
The damn fool, he thought, shaking his head as he remembered his last look at Hassel’s back.
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