III
It was a short time before Olivia and Gile’s exchange. Lieutenant General Violet von Anastasia planted a long sword of magnificent workmanship into the ground and looked out over the battlefield. Her golden hair rippled in the wind like a field of wheat in the sunshine, and she was so beautiful she looked as though she could have stepped out of a painting.
The war cries from each army accounting the beginning of the battle had scarcely died away when the runner reached her. Violet brushed her bangs to one side with a delicate finger, then turned her vivid azure eyes on the runner. In society, she’d earned the name “the Lady of the Sky” for those eyes.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Ser! The commander of the Eighth Legion, Death God Olivia, has single-handedly carried out an attack on Major Redmond and his forces. They appear to have fallen into chaos!” After the runner was finished speaking, there was a moment where all was still. Then, like a roll of thunder, a tumult of voices rose up from the assembled veterans. At that moment, Major Redmond had already met his maker on the end of Olivia’s spear, but Violet and her officers had no way of knowing that.
“Did ye say ‘single-handedly’?!” demanded an old retainer, glaring at the runner with the intensity of a man about to attack. The others expressed similar feelings.
Violet only clicked her tongue quietly. So you went and pulled off something even more outrageous than the stories about you, she thought. She was aware that Death God Olivia and her blade were always found on the front line. But the idea that she would mount a single-handed attack—not to mention while holding command over a whole army—was beyond prediction, and the soldiers who had come up against her on the front line must have been scared out of their wits. Nothing else could have resulted in the elite Azure Knights being so handily outplayed.
“The enemy forces are targeting the hole opened by the Death God and coming through in floods,” the runner went on.
Violet looked down, even as she sensed all other eyes focusing on her at the runner’s words. She stayed that way for less than a minute. “This is what we are going to do.”
Once she was done imparting her orders, the messenger sprinted away. The standard tactic would have been to immediately dispatch reinforcements, but Violet had instructed her forces to retreat, while quietly, below the surface, constructing an encircling wall with which to strike back.
“But will the Death God catch on to our plan?” the old retainer asked, stroking his beard.
“I have done a little analysis of my own on our little Death God,” Violet replied. “Though her actions might appear chaotic at first, they always conceal a properly considered battle plan. It’s clear that she’s sharp—she quickly judges her situation. I expect she will see through this plan.”
Though the old man didn’t voice it, the confusion was plain on his face. The corners of Violet’s mouth quirked up as she went on.
“It really doesn’t matter if she does. Even if they fall back, that will give us the opportunity we need to regroup our wavering forces. And if she does continue to advance, then we know that we needn’t fear our little Death God and her Eighth Legion.”
A thin smile spread over her face. Violet was no ordinary general—she hadn’t earned her position as Felix’s right hand for nothing.
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