II
Sofitia Hell Mekia, seventh seraph of the Holy Land of Mekia, sent out a veritable horde of owls to the various battlefields. The battles now unfolding represented a crucial moment, and she meant to be fully informed on how they progressed so that she might steer Mekia toward its rightful future.
Sofitia’s Private Chambers at La Chaim Palace, the Holy Land of Mekia
The flickering light of the fire in the hearth filled the room with a gentle glow. One who stumbled across the threshold might have been forgiven for thinking they had wandered into paradise, seeing Sofitia there in her flowing lilac robe like an angel’s raiment. She held a cup of black tea in one hand as she walked over to a heavy table that rested in the center of the room.
On the table were three magnificently carved black boards, atop each of which were a great many pieces. Sofitia reached out and picked up a black piece from the central board in her delicate fingers, then moved it toward the line of gray pieces.
I should have expected no less from Olivia. She went above and beyond what I had imagined. I suppose she had no choice.
It had been a month since the owls had brought her word that the battle for Kier Fortress had begun. When another owl then returned with the news that the Azure Knights had met the Eighth Legion, she had felt a great surge of shock, but also of elation. She did not need to think back on her military history to know that never once in ages gone by had anyone faced down an enemy army of thirty thousand—and thirty thousand of that enemy’s most elite warriors—and mounted a lone charge against them. Under normal circumstances, this could only be considered the act of a lunatic, but with Olivia and her extraordinary skill at arms, it was a different story. It was said that the girl whom Sofitia wanted nothing more than to make her own had rushed forward like a demon, tearing the ranks of the Azure Knights asunder as she went.
Sofitia raised the teacup to her lips, then turned her attention to a white piece on the same board. The Eighth Legion controlled the first stage. But Felix von Sieger’s Azure Knights are not made of such weak stuff that they would let it end there. Felix had proved his individual mettle when he fought off Amelia and Johann, both of whom were mages. He had already moved into the realm of the inhuman. His ability to lead was the issue at stake, but though Olivia’s lone charge had thrown him at the start of the battle, his recovery had been swift. Though Sofitia still lacked sufficient evidence to make an accurate determination, she nevertheless judged him to be a commander of more than average skill.
From what the owls report, it seems the difference in training between the two armies is significant, just as I thought. The Azure Knights’ advantage will only grow the longer the fighting is drawn out. If Olivia’s Eighth Legion is to seize victory... Sofitia saw the face of a gentle young man in her mind’s eye—that of Ashton Senefelder.
The young man had more than amply demonstrated his exceptional talents by having succeeded in pitting the Eighth Legion against the Azure Knights alone. Whether the Azure Knights’ advantage now grew or diminished would be dictated by the extent to which he was able to control the battle. The reason for the imperial army’s string of losses could be summed up thusly: besides their inability to suppress Olivia herself, just as key was their failure to notice Ashton, manipulating from the shadow cast by Olivia’s dazzling presence.
When one has eyes only for the light, one tends to forget the darkness. This is a typical example. Her eyes briefly caught on her own provocative reflection in the window, before returning once more to the board. As a rule, she excluded the word “regret” from her vocabulary. As ruler of Mekia, she had little time to waste on such pointless concerns, and yet there was something about Ashton she could not get out of her mind. She had decided early on, in consideration of his personality, to abandon the idea of recruiting him to the Winged Crusaders. It was a decision she did not regret, but searching her soul she felt something unresolved toward him. Sofitia was a stranger to love and had no desire to make its acquaintance, but she could still tell that Ashton was smitten with Olivia. She could hardly have governed a nation if she were not sensitive to the hearts of others.
Though I imagine there are a fair few exceptions, she acknowledged.
First to come to mind was Alfonse sem Galmond, King of Fernest. He was, it scarcely needed to be said, the embodiment of mediocrity. He had not even the decency to be ashamed of having driven a great nation into the ground. Instead he lived a life of indolence and ignorance of how he disgraced himself. Sofitia despised no one more. It had only taken a little charm to set him drooling, and as if that weren’t bad enough, he had the gall to assume she felt amicably toward him. Sofitia remembered how her face had threatened to twist in disgust at the presumptuous tone he had taken with her. That Fernest had survived as long as it had under the rule of such a fool was in part down to Olivia and Ashton’s strength, but neither could the not-inconsiderable talent present in the upper echelons of the Royal Army be discounted. At the banquet back in Fernest, Sofitia had taken the opportunity to converse with a number of their senior officers, among whom Cornelius had stood head and shoulders above the rest. Though he was affable and subdued, Sofitia saw in him unfathomable depths, and there was a gleam in his eyes that missed nothing. Sofitia set no stock in hypotheticals, but all the same, she thought that Fernest would be in a very different place if Cornelius had been king.
This is no good. I am becoming distracted. Right now, it was Ashton she ought to be thinking of. Not Alfonse, and not Cornelius. Olivia said it was out of fear for him that she remained with the Royal Army. At the time, I thought if he were out of the way, it would be the solution to my problem. But now, I see I was greatly mistaken.
It was Ashton, not Olivia, whom she ought to have invited to the Winged Crusaders first. She knew well that Olivia did not have a shred of loyalty toward Fernest. If Ashton had appealed to her, chances were that she would have agreed. Even Claudia, that knight who stuck to Olivia’s side like a rash, was not likely to stop Olivia if she decided to leave.
In conjunction with what Johann had told her, the owls’ investigations had indicated that he would not condone betrayal. Likewise, he could not be swayed by gold. At present, she had nothing with which to effectively tempt him.
If I am going to win him over, I will have to put a stop to this war, in some way or another. Ashton started out as a conscript. He has no love for battle. He will no doubt leave the army when the war is over. And then there will be nothing for Olivia to fear...
Sofitia wanted only one thing from this battle, and that was for the imperial army and the Royal Army to devour one another. She expected that if the Eighth Legion captured Emperor Ramza, the empire would sue for peace. Why had Fernest struck back by invading the empire? Yes, they were riding on the wings of a string of victories, but more than that, the Royal Army was exhausted and lacked the strength to keep the war going. Fernest would undoubtedly enter into peace negotiations with the empire. For the Holy Land of Mekia, that would be when the real work began. Sofitia would use the territory ceded to them by Fernest as a foothold to gradually chip away at the kingdom on an economic front. In the meantime, she would bring Olivia, Ashton, and other people of talent under her wing, amassing power. It would require several years at the least. Once she had Fernest fully in the palm of her hand, that was when she would announce her intention to unify the continent. If they exterminated the weakened imperial army, the incurable opportunists of the United City-States of Sutherland would submit, like as not. With three quarters of the continent under her control, the remaining minor nations might as well not exist. In reality, things would not be so straightforward—many obstacles lay ahead. Even so, Sofitia was confident that she could see it through.
Sofitia’s eyes slid once more to the window, outside of which the icy night grew deeper. Her face reflected in the glass was alight with a ghastly smile.
Main Command of the Winged Crusaders
“Blessed Wing Lara. The Seventh Soaring Squadron have commenced attack on the fortified tower to the right of the fortress, as scheduled.”
“Thank you for the report.”
“Ser!” The messenger saluted and left.
“Don’t you find this battle absurd? We won’t even get any good experience for the guardians out of it, let alone a demonstration of the Royal Army’s strength.” From atop her silver chariot that glittered all the colors of the rainbow, Lara Mira Crystal looked down at the battlefield, her brow furrowed. As a senior thousand-wing, Johann knew that Lara was trying to shape the Winged Crusaders into the greatest army in Duvedirica.
Beside them rode Senior Hundred-Wing Historia von Stampede, leader of the Twelve Angels, her head bobbing up and down at irregular intervals as she held tight to her reins. With half an eye on her, Johann’s mouth twisted as he answered. “With all due respect, Blessed Wing Lara, this is not a training exercise.”
“Lara’s such a meathead that she doesn’t see the difference between the battlefield and a training ground. I wouldn’t waste your breath...”
Johann spun around to face Historia, but found her eyes still closed and her head still bobbing. As he stared in disbelief, Historia suddenly cried out.
“Ow!” Clutching the back of her head, she glared up at the chariot. “That hurt, you know!”
Lara gave her a look cold as the depths of winter. “It’s your own fault for falling asleep in the middle of a battle.”
Johann thought it served her right. He couldn’t have ever worked up the nerve to nap right in front of the commander in chief of the Winged Crusaders if he tried. Even Historia had no comeback. She only pursed her lips unhappily.
That’s Blessed Wing Lara for you, Johann thought. It had undoubtedly been Lara’s magecraft that had dealt the blow to Historia’s head. Though it seemed like a simple trick, in truth, it was not. She had probably compressed air to create a sort of projectile, but it would have taken the most extreme delicacy in her manipulation of her magecraft to keep the impact to a level where a person felt only a jab. It was not Lara’s vast mana reserves nor the invisible blade of wind she could conjure that put her so far beyond Johann and Amelia. No, the essence of Lara’s talent lay in her ability to instantly formulate spells. Large-scale, high-level magecraft like Johann’s Blazered Shower or Amelia’s Verdantwine Myriad ate up a lot of mana, but neither required anything particularly advanced in the way of magecraft manipulation. Lara’s spell had been far more difficult. With enough time, Johann could produce something similar, but if ordered to do it at a moment’s notice, he would have had no choice but to immediately throw up his hands in surrender. He appraised Lara with admiration, but for some reason found her looking back at him in dissatisfaction.
“Was that a complaint?” she demanded.
“Was what a complaint, ser?”
“That comment about training soldiers on the battlefield and what have you.”
“Oh, that. I didn’t really mean it. At the end of the day, this isn’t our battle. I was only admiring your skill in waking up Historia. You really are brilliant, Blessed Wing Lara.”
Lara stared at him a while longer, then silently turned back to face ahead of them, leaving Johann puzzled by the odd exchange.
Historia pulled her horse up alongside him. “Don’t let it bother you. She’s just happy you complimented her. There, that’s proof.” She pointed casually. Johann followed and saw that the tips of Lara’s ears were very slightly flushed. To Johann, this was a one in a million occasion.
“She’s got a soft side under all that.” Historia winked, then grinned. Johann whispered in her ear that this had been a very educational experience.
“I can hear everything you’re saying.” Lara’s interjection was entirely without emotion. Historia flinched back; then, announcing she was going to observe the front line, she kicked her horse and fled. Johann, now unable to use the same excuse, couldn’t help but feel that he’d been beaten to the punch. To do something about the uncomfortable atmosphere, Johann cleared his throat.
“I have to say, I’m loving her tactics.” Of course by “her,” he meant Olivia. Who could have foreseen that she would charge alone against a force of thirty thousand soldiers? She was as unconstrained by common sense as ever, Johann thought with a broad grin.
“That melodramatic display wasn’t tactical in the slightest.”
“I can’t argue with that, but it was effective nonetheless.”
Lara sniffed, making her displeasure plain. She never used tricks in battle—she had no need of them. All that mattered were her unyielding guardians whose experience allowed them to flawlessly execute her battle plans, tactics, and orders. To a person like that, the news the owls had brought of Olivia’s lone charge must have seemed unbearably crude.
Continuing to talk about this is only going to put her in a foul mood. Setting aside the subject of Olivia, Johann asked a different question.
“By the way, I know your orders are for us to not use magecraft, but what if the Royal Army loses the advantage?”
Lara gave him a cutting look as she replied coldly, “My orders will not change. You heard what the seraph said, Johann.”
Johann cowered a little before her. The Royal Army were unaware that the Winged Crusaders had mages. In this day and age, mages had a reputation akin to miracle workers. If the Royal Army knew who they had among their allies, they would be all too eager to see if they could utilize the mages’ powers.
Meanwhile, the imperial army had the surprise attack on Fort Astora, and they had made a spectacular display in the battle with the Principality of Stonia. It was only natural to expect, therefore, that they were aware that Mekia had several mages, and would also be duly afraid of them. As such, the mere presence of the Winged Crusaders in the battle would make the imperial army more cautious than was necessary. In Sofitia’s view, this would make for a powerful diversion.
So far, the imperial army hasn’t made any unexpected moves. With Lady Berlietta in command, I doubt they’ll stay so docile, but it is clear we mages have them on alert... he mused. But forget magecraft, what about magic? How would the Royal Army react to finding out they have someone with a power so great it defies the rules of war? And how quickly would it turn the blood of the imperial soldiers to ice in their veins?
Olivia would only have to use the magic she had shown Johann, and in an instant, the war would turn in Fernest’s favor. This was no prophecy on his part, but a certainty, like how he knew that water would always flow downhill. On the other hand, he also knew that Olivia would not use magic, for the simple reason that she had promised someone called “Z” that she would not and was faithful to that promise.
But even without magic, there’s no doubt that Olivia holds one of the keys to this battle. And then there’s the man who holds the other...
His mind went to Felix von Sieger, beautiful enough to rival Olivia, hailed as the strongest in the empire and the only man to ever defeat Johann in single combat. Neither the battle’s instigation nor its outcome rested on individual victories and defeats. And yet Johann felt in his gut that on this particular occasion, it would be Felix and Olivia crossing blades that decided how this battle ended.
“Thinking about women in the midst of battle again?” Lara cut in, looking as though she had put down her facial expressions and forgotten them somewhere. Johann scratched his cheek.
“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask, Blessed Wing, but do you really believe I only ever think about women?”
Lara gave him a heartless smile. “Am I wrong?”
“You’re not entirely mistaken. I was in fact thinking about a woman just now. But don’t worry, while she is a woman, she isn’t that sort of woman.”
The soldier in golden armor who sat in the driver’s seat of the chariot smirked at his roundabout denial. Lara stomped down on the back of their head.
“And what do you really think?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
Lara raised an eyebrow and clicked her tongue. “You know. Don’t hedge.”
Johann put a hand to his breast. “I beg your pardon, ser. Assuming that Olivia will not use magic...”
Johann went on to explain that Olivia and Felix were evenly matched, and that when they did cross swords, there was no telling which would emerge the victor.
Lara listened, not moving a muscle, then drew her foot back to its original position. The soldier looked obviously relieved. “After seeing Olivia fight the Norfess, I urged the seraph to reconsider inviting her to Mekia. She’s far too dangerous.”
Johann had heard from Olivia herself of how she had so easily slain the Norfess—a dangerous beast. Given this was Olivia, Johann had hardly been shocked at the time. He would never have expected Lara to voice her opposition to the girl.
“Now that’s unexpected. Whatever your personal feelings toward Olivia, I thought you would be all for anything that adds to the might of the Winged Crusaders.”
A small smile pulled at Lara’s mouth at the note of surprise in his voice. It might have been the first natural smile Johann had ever seen on her. He felt his heart give a little flutter. “Any ordinary great warrior I would welcome with open arms. But make no mistake, that girl is a double-edged sword. I prefer not to leave my luck in the hands of the heavens. And you might not have come out and said it, but you were never enthusiastic about Olivia joining the Winged Crusaders either, were you, Johann?”
“Well, in all honesty, no,” he admitted. “The seraph might be able to control her for all I know, but I certainly can’t.”
He thought of Olivia like a fire that could feed even on other flames. Once unleashed, it would spread unchecked, eventually burning through things, people, and even nations.
“The seraph believes she can control Olivia, but as her servant, it’s to be expected that I wouldn’t want to keep someone nearby who can slaughter a legendary beast like it’s nothing. Anyone with fangs worse than those of a legendary beast might well one day turn them on the seraph.”
Johann agreed with her. He knew that Olivia was driven by a single commitment. They had no idea how she might act in retribution if they unintentionally interfered with it, and therein lay the problem. Johann was not so compassionate that he would voluntarily run headlong into clear danger.
“If you’re right,” Lara went on, “and the two of them are equally matched, then it would be best for Mekia if they killed each other. It might go against the seraph’s wishes, but I believe that that would be the best possible outcome, in the end.” Her voice was thick with conviction. Johann said nothing. Felix was one thing, but at the very least, he wasn’t eager to see Olivia dead.
Death God Olivia... Memories flashed before his eyes of the time he had spent shopping and eating with Olivia back in the royal capital. He saw Olivia wolfing down grilled skewers, her carefree smile as brilliant as the summer sun.
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