V
The imperial defense on the walls fell apart, and the Eighth Legion’s Elite Force poured in to take control.
“Tear down the imperial flags and raise our holy banner!” ordered Gile.
“Yes, ser!”
Banners bearing the Valedstorm crest rose around them, drawing a cry of triumph from the soldiers. Gile, gripping the shaft of a banner, held up his sword and roared, giving still more energy to the Elite Force’s advance. In the meantime, Olivia was merciless as she continued to swing the ebony blade. The black mist that poured from its edge had grown to ensconce its full length.
“It’s no good!”
“Run!”
“We’ll never get away!”
Gauss’s blood-drenched sword was ruthless and unrelenting as it bit into the backs of the fleeing imperial soldiers. The fort walls had been transformed into a hunting ground.
“Looks like we’ve taken the wall,” Olivia said as Claudia approached, smiling and returning her mini ballista to her back. Taking the walls meant the most difficult part was over with—the rest would follow. It was now only a matter of time until the fort was theirs.
“Yes, the plan did work well...” For some reason, Claudia hung her head and sighed. When Olivia cocked her head in puzzlement, Claudia looked at her with a pleading look in her eyes.
“General, you are the second-in-command of the Second Allied Legion, as well as supreme commander of the Eighth Legion. I am begging you to please be a little more conscious of your position.”
“I am conscious of it,” Olivia replied. “How many times have we had this conversation now?”
“Three times.”
“Isn’t it boring having the same conversation three times over?”
“If you think so, then please take what I say to heart. I don’t enjoy saying the same thing over and over again either,” Claudia said, then puffed out her cheeks. She looked so adorable that Olivia couldn’t help but smile.
“Is something funny?”
“No, sorry! What were we talking about again?”
“I was telling you to be conscious of your position!”
“Oh, right. But I don’t like sitting around doing nothing.”
“It’s true, sitting on your hands isn’t like you, Captain.” Gauss came up to them, his sword resting on his shoulder. Claudia fixed him with a glare of such startling intensity that he turned around then and there and scurried away.
“I’m not asking what you like,” she went on, her face exceptionally severe. “This is the nature of command.” Seeing that Claudia was suffering from a bout of hyper-stubborn-itis and thinking to save her, Olivia didn’t back down.
“But when I take the lead, it improves our soldiers’ morale, doesn’t it? I’m the Death God, after all.” Clearing her throat, she put her hands on her hips and puffed out her chest. At this, Claudia scowled more fiercely than Olivia had ever seen before. She decided to ask something that had been on her mind.
“Hey, why do you hate that people call me ‘Death God’ so much?” She would have understood it if Claudia disliked people calling her “Death God.” But it wasn’t Claudia, but Olivia, to whom it was said. It was a glaring contradiction.
“I don’t like what I don’t like,” Claudia replied, which wasn’t any reason at all. She then stuck her nose in the air.
“You really are selfish, Claudia.”
“I’m not about to take that from you, General!” Claudia’s nostrils flared and she huffed like a bull, while Olivia held up her hands and made soothing noises.
“Well, putting aside that about the ‘Death God’ name,” she went on, “when the enemy sees me, they all wilt away, which means fewer casualties for our side. Don’t you think that’s a good thing?”
Z had taught her that keeping as many of your soldiers alive as possible was at the heart of the art of war. There was no way Claudia wouldn’t appreciate the logic of it.
“I do see what you’re saying...”
“And besides, even if I’m not there to give commands to the full army, the Eighth Legion has a tactician we can rely on, don’t we? So I can go out on the front line, and no one needs to worry.”
If it weren’t for Ashton’s leadership, the battle with Northern Perscilla wouldn’t have gone nearly so smoothly either. Even Olivia was surprised at how much he’d grown.
“Of course I don’t deny we can count on our tactician, but that has no connection with you being on the front line.”
“I think they’re pretty well connected.”
“They are not.”
“Well, I’m not going to stop fighting on the front line.”
“But—”
“Colonel Claudia!” Claudia froze for a moment, then saluted.
“Yes, ser!”
“This is an order from the second-in-command of the Second Allied Legion. You are forbidden from making any further comments!”
“Yes...ser,” Claudia gritted out, her eyes mutinous.
In the military, rank was everything. Its system of elevating those who killed other humans to greatness still didn’t make sense to Olivia, but it exerted a remarkable effect on humans like Claudia. She didn’t enjoy giving orders, but at times like this she was profoundly grateful that she outranked Claudia.
She nodded with an air of superiority, then called over to Ellis, who had stabbed her sword into the back of a fallen imperial soldier.
“Ellis, would you mind taking some soldiers and going after the imperials who ran? I’ve got a little business of my own to take care of.”
“Understood, ser!” Ellis replied cheerfully. She shouted an order to the soldiers, then they set off running down the stairs with Ellis in the lead.
It’s still a long way to the imperial capital. I need to wrap this battle up quickly. She jumped up to stand on the edge of the wall, her eyes on the tightly barred gate to the fort.
“What are you planning?” Claudia asked when Olivia suddenly leapt up onto the wall, struck by a sense of suspicion.
“Me? I’m going to go and open the gate.”
“You’re...” Claudia paused. “You’re not going to jump down there, are you?” Keeping a watchful eye on Olivia, Claudia peered over the edge. As she was already well aware, it was not a height one could jump from. Anyone who tried would be lucky to get out with only broken bones.
As if to further stoke Claudia’s anxieties, Olivia cocked her head in puzzlement.
“I mean, I am...” she said. “Shouldn’t I?”
“Obviously you shouldn’t!” Claudia retorted. “Are you out of your mind?!”
Olivia laughed. “Oh, I’ll be fine. I can use Featherweight,” she said, flapping her arms like a bird.
“Featherweight...?” Claudia repeated. “Do you mean that acrobatics show you put on in the battle with Northern Perscilla?” She remembered how, when an enemy force had attacked their main force, Olivia had not only leapt onto the back of the enemy commander’s galloping horse but stood there, quite casually. The enemy had been thoroughly shocked, and Claudia along with them.
“That’s the one. Featherweight makes my body as light as a feather, so I can jump down from high places, easy-peasy.”
“I’m still not sure...” Claudia glanced down again, then, feeling like the ground was pulling her down, lurched back.
Olivia watched her, and then, to Claudia’s disbelief, said, “Would you like to learn Featherweight, Claudia?”
“What?”
“From what I’ve seen, you’ve gotten pretty good with Swift Step. Featherweight is sort of like another application of Swift Step, so I’m sure you’ll pick it up like that.”
“You— You really think so?”
“I do. The Odh manipulation isn’t so difficult, and it’ll give you more options in battle, so it’s good things all around.”
If Claudia were straight with herself, she couldn’t imagine anything more tempting. Having seen Olivia using Swift Step, she didn’t believe she was anywhere near to mastering it, but she was still genuinely happy to have earned Olivia’s approval. And above anything else, learning a new skill was sure to allow her to improve herself still further.
“Well, I... Yes, I would like to,” she said, feeling embarrassed for reasons she wasn’t sure of herself as she bowed.
Olivia grinned. “Then I’ll teach you next time,” she said. Then, with a wave, she gave a little jump and dropped off the wall.
“General?!” Claudia rushed over to look down and saw Olivia land lightly in the midst of a crowd of imperial soldiers who were even now letting out cries of alarm. She really did move just like a feather.
“Now isn’t the time for slack-jawed amazement, Claudia Jung!” She slapped herself on both cheeks, then set off at a run for the stairs, going after Olivia.
Second Allied Legion Command
The runner came to Blood five hours after the battle began.
“I bring a message from Colonel Claudia. She says they are about to open the gate, so be ready.”
“Understood. Good work.”
“Thank you, ser!”
Blood turned to Ashton. “Well, you heard it.” Ashton nodded quietly, then he called over the runners who stood at the ready.
“Please relay to the first through fifth battalions that they are to storm the fort the moment the gates open.”
“Yes, ser!” they chorused.
Just as Claudia’s message had said, it wasn’t long before the gate opened. Each battalion began to move, and soon enough, Blood received news that they were in the process of taking control of all significant locations throughout the fort. It was clear to anyone who looked that Fort Astora had fallen.
“A message from Second Lieutenant Gile. The enemy commander has escaped.”
“Escaped? Well, thank you for the report, soldier.”
“Yes, ser! Excuse me, ser!”
Scratching his cheek, Ashton turned to Blood, who had overseen this last exchange, and said apologetically, “I’m afraid we’ve lost their commander.”
“That you have, but that doesn’t change the fact that this was a brilliant plan.”
“You’re too kind, ser.”
“Besides, you saw this coming, didn’t you?” Blood said, grinning.
“Well, I suppose...” On Ashton’s orders, the Winged Crusaders were lying in wait along the escape route from the fort. So long as their commander, Amelia, didn’t make a misstep, their next battle ought to end favorably.
I can’t imagine a woman as proud as her making a mistake... Blood looked at Ashton. He really brought down an imperial outer fort in less than half a day. He’s the real deal.
Blood led their main force into Fort Astora with his head held high, where he found Olivia waiting for him. When they saw each other, they let out a shout of victory.
Fermat’s Unit
Fermat escaped the fort unnoticed by the Royal Army, then, surrounded on all sides by his guards, he spurred his horse and galloped northwest toward Fort Belganna.
“How many do you think made it out?”
“Perhaps four hundred.”
“Less than a seventh...” he murmured. “I suppose we should be grateful.”
Though the Royal Army had taken the walls, Fermat and the others had succeeded in sealing the gate. Just when he had thought they might hold out until reinforcements reached them, however, something happened that shattered all his predictions. Without warning, Olivia had materialized in the courtyard, slaughtered his soldiers, then cut through the bolt on the gate with a single slash. After that, she pushed the gates open with ease. In that moment, Astora lost all its advantages as a fort. There was no longer anything they could do to resist the Royal Army, which outnumbered them twentyfold. Immediately, Fermat had given the order to retreat, then made his own escape. Now, here he was.
The soldiers were saying that the Death God descended upon them from the sky. Thinking about it now, I can’t argue with them. How could she have appeared within the fort walls like that, unless she flew—?!
As they left the woods, Fermat yanked hard on his reins. His horse, unconcerned, gradually slowed, then came to a stop. The others following him had also brought their horses to an abrupt halt. The road in front of them was blocked by a wall of soldiers in leaf-green armor, all armed and glaring his way. It was plain to see that they were from the Winged Crusaders.
“Major General Fermat!”
“Settle down,” he snapped. “I didn’t think they’d anticipate our escape route...” But so they must have done, or else there was no reason for them to be lying in wait here. Fermat gritted his teeth, then he caught sight of a woman in dazzling, pure white armor. That’ll be their commander, no doubt. She was beautiful, with a terrible icy gleam in her eyes. She flicked her pale blue hair back with a flourish.
“That Ashton Senefelder doesn’t look like much, but he isn’t an opponent you can trifle with,” she said. Fermat had no idea what she meant. She looked at him and his guards as though noticing them for the first time.
“You don’t interest me at all, so choose quickly. You may either fight, then die, or not fight, then die.”
“Major General, they’ve already cut off our retreat,” muttered the captain of Fermat’s guard. Fermat turned and saw Winged Crusaders filling the road behind them as well. In order to survive, they were going to have to find a way out of an impossible situation.
“Joining forces with Fernest?” he shouted, being deliberately provocative. “Does Mekia know no shame?”
“Is that the best you can do? They say barking dogs are seldom the ones with any bite. But bark away, if you like. While you still can.”
The woman was a step above him in her taunts. Feeling hatred boiling among his soldiers, Fermat drew his longsword and said, “This is an opportunity, my friends. Let’s teach these yokels some imperial courtesy.”
“Yes, ser!”
“But don’t stick around. If you break through, you’re free to run. What matters now is that we get to Fort Belganna as fast as possible and alert them to Fernest’s invasion.”
“We sent messengers as soon as we learned of the attack. On your orders, ser...” The guard captain looked puzzled.
“They’ve likely been killed,” Fermat said ruefully. “Our enemy was prepared for everything else, after all.”
“Surely not...”
“We’re out of options. You understand?” As his soldiers nodded silently, the guards didn’t move.
“We, your guards, will follow you to the end, Major General.”
“I’m not making an exception for you. You are to go to Fort Belganna and tell them that the Royal Army is invading. Our victory now rides on someone getting to that fort.” Ignoring the guard captain, who started to speak, Fermat took a deep breath. “You are deluding yourselves if you think some backwater nation will get the better of the glorious imperial army!” he bellowed. His hundred soldiers all drew their weapons and threw themselves at the Winged Crusaders. Soon, it turned into a melee. Fermat turned his longsword toward the woman with the pale blue hair. She drew her sword calmly from its lavishly embellished sheath.
“Tell me your name, before you die,” he shouted.
“It isn’t as though you are going to be able to tell it to anyone.” As they passed each other, their swords clashed with a piercing metallic screech. At the same time, Fermat’s ears caught another sound, unnatural and grating. Turning his horse, he looked down at his hands and saw a fine crack in the blade of his sword—a sword forged by one of the most renowned swordsmiths in the empire. Despite himself, he looked over at the woman.
“What, did that useless hunk of metal you call a sword crack?” she asked, her voice dripping with mockery. Fermat spat. “There’s nothing to worry about for a warrior of your caliber,” she went on. “Crack or not, the outcome of this battle isn’t going to change.”
“Go to hell!” Fermat urged his horse to a gallop once more, his sword pointed at the woman’s heart. But the next moment, the world flipped, and he found himself crashing to the ground, horse and all.
“Wh-What just happened?!” His horse rarely if ever spooked, yet now it was whinnying and kicking frantically. The woman looked down at it as it tried and failed to stand. A pale blue light emanated from her left hand.
“That light...” Fermat gasped. “You’re Amelia Stolast!”
“Well done. I confess I am surprised to hear that my name is now known even to the likes of you. It’s been a pleasure, I’m sure.” Amelia nimbly dismounted her horse, then, drawing one foot back, she bent her other knee slightly in a lady’s curtsy. She meant to mock him to the end. “You aren’t going to attack me?” she asked, cocking her head and blinking a few times as she regarded Fermat, who stood with his sword at the ready, on his guard. Then, she smiled thinly. “Fear not, I won’t use magecraft on you.”
“You...You think you can stand there and laugh at me?!” Fermat closed on Amelia in an instant, then raised his sword above his head and swung it down. But Amelia twisted to one side, dodging his blow so that his blade only managed to cut a few stray hairs. He readied himself for another attack, but a moment later, he felt an extraordinary pain in his abdomen. His knees buckled under him. Fearing what he would find, he looked down and saw blood pouring from a great gash across his side. He hadn’t even realized he had been attacked.
Fermat looked up and saw Amelia standing over him, genuine pity in her eyes.
“If you didn’t even see my attack just now, there is no point in carrying this on any further. Let us end this.” She raised her sword, holding the hilt up to her cheek. Fermat cackled fearlessly, even as he vomited up great gouts of blood.
“Be sure of it, Lord Felix will have your head,” he said. “Until then, enjoy what little life you have left.”
“How very droll. In thanks for providing me with such amusement, I shall kill you painlessly. May the blessings of Strecia go with you.”
An ominous whistle of air reached his ears. The next moment, Fermat was gone.
“Thousand-Wing Amelia.” Senior Hundred-Wing Jean Alexia, one of the Twelve Angels, appeared with her cross spear under one arm. Amelia looked over the scattered corpses of the imperial soldiers, then at the lone imperial soldier who was still desperately brandishing a sword despite being surrounded by guardians. The man wore armor different from that of a regular soldier, so she guessed he was probably one of the guards assigned to the man she had just killed. She was impressed by how valiantly he struggled.
“You’ve finished with them?”
“Yes, ser. We’ll have mopped up the last of them soon.”
“As I’m sure you know, I will not allow even one of them to escape. It would reflect poorly on my good name.”
Amelia had no choice but to acknowledge that Ashton Senefelder was an accomplished commander. If they failed to contain the enemy here, it would mean bearing the disappointment of the Royal Army, and by extension, of Blood and Olivia. Amelia couldn’t bear that, besides which, it would put her in an awkward position with Sofitia.
“Yes, ser. I am well aware of that,” Jean said, saluting.
Amelia gently put her lips close to Jean’s ear. “And if one of them were to slip away...” she breathed. “Well, I’m sure you know.”
“Of course, ser.” Jean gulped, nodding. “I do.”
“I’ll leave the rest to you then, Jean.” Amelia clapped her lightly on the shoulder, then left the battlefield alone.
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