III
The banners of the Winged Crusaders fluttered against the winter sky. Sofitia sat in the six-wheeled chariot listening as one of the owls reported that the battle was going well.
“Amelia never disappoints,” said Angelica of the Twelve Angels, standing up straighter with pride. The knights of the Seraphic Guard looked on with expressions torn between amusement and exasperation as she hummed a made-up tune to herself.
Senior Hundred-Wing Dolf Ballenstein, who stood at Sofitia’s side, waited until the owl was completely out of sight before he solemnly said, “We can only hope it continues to go this well...”
“I am told that the dead laid waste to an entire city in the United City-States of the Sutherland. This will not be easy.”
Dolf’s brow furrowed deeply. “I heard as much too. But if I may speak freely, the nation in question is only a collection of minor states. They do not hold a candle to Mekia’s might.” Dolf was the leader of the senior hundred-wings, and his face sported a variety of scars both large and small. Added to his naturally ferocious appearance, he had no trouble cowing anyone who laid eyes on him.
“That may be so, but it is no reason to underestimate our opponent,” Sofitia admonished. “Every nation has its share of talented people.”
Dolf bowed his head. “My remark was ill-considered.”
It was now common knowledge that the empire had been conspiring with the United City-States to manufacture a food shortage in Fernest. Sofitia had thought that, even if the empire did eventually turn on Sutherland, it would not be until after it had destroyed Fernest. In reality, however, the empire had simply cast them aside before Fernest met its doom. It was presumably a decision borne out of confidence in the undead army, but all the same, it struck Sofitia as ever so slightly premature. If the decision was based on arrogance, then Darmés had shown the limits of his ability and she need not fear him, no matter how many corpses he could control. At the same time, Darmés had a proven record serving as chancellor for many years under Ramza the Good himself. More than likely, he had a scheme brewing that she could not foresee.
The sound of running footsteps pulled Sofitia from her thoughts. The news was not good.
“My Seraph...” Dolf’s face twisted with anguish, but Sofitia answered with a cool smile.
“It is as I foresaw. We shall wait and have faith.”
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