Chapter 4 - The Traitor
“Hey, Prince Wein. Right on time.”
Upon entering the castle, Wein was shown into not the audience hall but one of several parlors.
“With the topic being what it is, I thought we’d talk in here where there won’t be any prying ears.”
“I have no objections. However…” Wein trailed off, sitting down on the sofa and looking straight ahead, behind Ordalasse—at Holonyeh, who was standing there.
“Why is Lord Holonyeh here?”
“Ah, he’s a newcomer, but he’s got a real knack for it. He’s been assisting me in various matters lately.”
“I see,” Wein responded in the socially acceptable way while moaning internally.
Cavarin had a long history—even though it had nothing on Natra. Of course, this meant many of the vassals had inherited their positions. Which meant there was something off about the king keeping a newcomer like Holonyeh by his side.
When Holonyeh had visited Natra, Wein had been impressed that he had managed to butter up the king enough to become an envoy. In truth, his cunning couldn’t be denied. But even Wein had not imagined that the someone with almost nothing in the way of blood relations had managed to get this close to the seat of power.
This was the “sinking ship” Gruyere was talking about…
Wein’s impression of Ordalasse tanked. He glanced behind the king. Zeno was standing in the back. He had heard from Ninym that Zeno hated Holonyeh. There was some concern she might run wild—but surprisingly, she was acting very calm, looking down, her breath steady, holding herself together.
We should be fine.
There were only four people in the room. Led by Raklum, the guards were waiting outside. If there were signs of any trouble, he had planned to force Zeno out of the room, but from the look of things, he could probably keep her close by.
“Well then, Prince Wein. Let’s start things off. How did the meetings with the other Holy Elites go?”
“I was given a number of conditions, but overall, the responses were favorable. With yourself included, I will have the majority vote.”
“Wonderful.” Ordalasse gave a look of admiration. “To think befriending those wretches would give us these results. I can see you carry the blood of Caleus.”
“Levetia’s top disciple, known for being taciturn? I have heard I carry that blood, but that era is distant enough to feel somewhat unreal to me.”
“Why, it is the reason you’ve gotten this far. There is no doubt you carry on an outstanding lineage, Prince. Ah, it’s actually too bad. If I had a daughter your age, I’d marry her off to you.”
While Wein was not in the least disappointed over Ordalasse’s statement, he did have a question.
“If memory serves, isn’t there a queen of Cavarin…?”
He couldn’t be sure of the accuracy of this information, seeing that there wasn’t much record of her entering the realm of politics, but Ordalasse should have had a few sons and daughters around Wein’s own age.
Just as he was thinking maybe they had fallen victim to some disease, Ordalasse shook his head.
“Ah, those aren’t my children.”
“…Not your children?”
“In spite of the excellent teachers I hired, none of them produced any results. There was no way they could be mine…” Ordalasse got that far, then stopped.
“Oh, it seems I’ve gone off track.” He sounded troubled. “My unfaithful ex-wife was executed, so you won’t have to suffer the presence of such a vile being, Prince. Please do not worry.”
“…Did you have definite proof?”
“Proof?” Ordalasse’s lips turned into an odd frown. “What a thing to say. They did not produce results worthy of the blood. That was enough to prove they couldn’t possibly share the grand blood of a disciple.”
“……”
In other words, Ordalasse had deified his own lineage, convinced his own children would undeniably be prodigies. That meant it made perfect sense for him to think that average children were the result of infidelity, even without any damning proof.
I’ve got a feeling his ship is more than sinking…!
It was an irrational argument. It was only natural his vassals were bound to be distancing themselves. A seat among the Holy Elites was tempting, but when he considered how it would make him indebted to Ordalasse, Wein had some reservations, to say the least.
I mean, Steel is… Um, yeah. And Caldmellia is… Oof… Guess I’ll have to team up with Gruyere…but that guy will definitely be a huge pain, too…
Wein mentally thumbed through his options again, but none of them were decent people. Well, it wasn’t as if only upstanding citizens became the Holy Elites, so there wasn’t much he could do with the pool of choices available to him.
Ordalasse must have taken Wein’s rumination as disapproval of his own claim. He appeared sorely displeased.
“Prince Wein, it seems you do not understand the importance of blood.”
“No, I’m not…”
“You have no need to be ashamed. After all, as a young man, I also focused on merit over blood when appointing vassals.”
“And are you saying that was a mistake?”
“People change.” Ordalasse seemed to be reminiscing. “When it comes to talent, personality, preference, ambition, it’s all fluid. It can all change at any given moment. There might be vassals you expect would do great things who become deadwood half a year later.”
Wein could agree about that much.
“How should a politician evaluate people? When talent and loyalty are like mirages, what about people can they believe in? The answer is blood.” Ordalasse tightened his fist. “No matter who you are, you cannot cast aside your birth. The layered history of one’s lineage is a foundation. Upon reflection, this is where they will always end up. In that case, there is value in trusting those who are born with the responsibility of carrying on a mighty line!”
“…I see.” Wein nodded.
WHAT A DUMBASSSSSSS. He cut down Ordalasse’s claim in a single stroke.
Basically, you’re telling me it was a pain in the ass to choose appropriate jobs for you vassals, so you stuck to picking them based on bloodline, huh? Isn’t that just admitting you’re cutting corners?
For better or for worse, people did change. Even a fearless soldier would one day hope to return to his family in one piece. Even a philanthropic philosopher might drink to oblivion over unrealized dreams. Wein was on the same page for this point.
However, change itself was not a bad thing. Because people were susceptible to change, they could adapt to new situations. Once politicians acknowledged a change in a vassal, it meant nothing more than adjusting to the new circumstances and reevaluating how they should deal with the person.
If the vassal wanted money, give them money. If they wanted prestige, grant them prestige. If they missed the place of their birth, station them there. If they wanted a distraction, toss them in the red-light district.
People change. But there is one constant: They will always have desires greater than serving the nation. All you can do is offer an incentive to keep them as satisfied as possible.
This was a difficult task that had no end, of course, but Wein managed to do it. If he had time, he walked around the palace daily, observing people’s expressions to confirm there were no changes in their minds and bodies. He diligently sent letters to those far away and examined any changes in their reply or brushwork. Depending on the situation, he would dispatch people or call upon them—all to confirm where their heart was at.
The fact that he knew how easily people change and tried to catch those warning signs spoke volumes about Wein’s style of rule.
But Ordalasse’s policy was If it’s a pain, I’m not doing it. I’ll decide everything by blood.
And that was it.
Wein couldn’t stand the idea of a king double his age engaging in this behavior.
I’m gonna lay you out, he thought in a rush.
And to think that Ordalasse had even managed to create a rift with his own vassals. Wein felt nothing but disgust.
I seriously don’t wanna work with this guy… What should I do?
Wein wanted to be a Holy Elite. Ordalasse’s endorsement was essential for that goal. He began to seriously consider what he should do. Get Ordalasse’s vote and the position, then quickly cast him aside? Cut the meeting off early and immediately realign with King Gruyere? Form ties with another Holy Elite?
“…Hmph. Seems I got heated. My apologies.”
“Please, I thought nothing of it.” Wein wasn’t lying.
He really didn’t think anything of it. In fact, he couldn’t care less.
“I’ve always been quick to lose my cool. And these days, I haven’t even been distracted by…” Ordalasse trailed off. “Come to think of it,” he continued, “I forgot something. I actually had a favor I wanted to ask of you, Prince Wein.”
“A favor? What might that be?” Wein gave a hollow response.
It had to involve the gold mine. But considering how he was already considering cutting ties with Ordalasse, he was hesitant to blow more money on him.
“Think you could lend me those Ashheads you’re breeding in Natra?”
“ Huh?” It took Wein a few seconds to process the request.
Ashheads was the slur of choice in the West for the Flahm. Wein got that much. But what did he mean by “lend”?
“What would you need them for?”
“I was thinking of hunting them to get my mind off things. Chasing around beasts can get boring, and hunting people is an unforgivable sin. I’m nothing but grateful to our great and merciful god for providing humanoid prey for us.”
“……” Wein fell into silence.
Ordalasse coughed awkwardly. “I understand your shock. You must want to say how disrespectful it is to lend god’s bounty to another. But I have already hunted down all of Cavarin’s Ashheads back when I was young. I haven’t been able to amuse myself with a hunt in a long time. I’m guessing Natra actively breed them to prevent this, right? Smart thinking on your part.”
“………”
“Oh, that’s right. From what I’ve heard, you keep a quality Ashhead with you, right? How about we use that to go hunting together? I might be a little rusty, but I’ve still got faith in my skill.”
From the back of the room, Zeno noticed something. Wein sat in front of her, and something inside him had changed.
Ordalasse must have sensed it, too, because he tilted his head in puzzlement.
“What’s wrong, Prince Wein?”
Wein replied in a troubled tone. “Ah, nothing. I was just doing some calculations.”
“Hmm?”
“Yes, but I’m finished now. Please do not worry… By the way, King Ordalasse, which would you prefer? Shall we decide now or later?”
“Hmm? For something this trivial, there’s no question. We’ll decide here and now.”
“I see. Well, then…” Wein smiled. “Nice knowing ya, Ordalasse.”
Thump! Wein bent forward over the desk—or that was what it had looked like, until he drove a kick right into Ordalasse’s face.
“—Oorgah?!” Ordalasse was driven hard into the sofa, which toppled over, king and all.
Behind him, Holonyeh’s eyes widened. Wein stamped over the desk and leaped out, kicking Holonyeh between the eyes and knocking him completely to the floor. Wein pivoted himself around as soon as he landed. Drawing hidden weapons from his inner pockets, he aimed for the only door connecting to outside.
“Your Majesty, that sound just now—”
The weapons pierced the foreheads of the guards who had opened the door, corpses ready to pitch out into the hallway. But Raklum came from behind and kicked them all out of the way.
“Your Highness, what happ ? Oh, I see.” Surveying the inside of the room, Raklum understood in an instant. “I’ll keep watch outside. But please hurry with your next move.”
Raklum swiped a sword from a dead guard’s corpse and tossed it to Wein.
“Yeah, I won’t be long.”
Sword in hand, Wein walked toward the collapsed Ordalasse, who was still writhing in agony.
“Koff… Wh-what’re you trying to do? This is…”
Every inch of Ordalasse’s face said he didn’t understand the situation. Wein looked down on him coldly.
“You know, I was really torn between my options. I mean, I know this goes against every concept of manners in the world.”
“What are you saying…?”
“Well, you did say we should decide now. So let’s get to it.” Wein prodded the king’s throat with his sword.
“W-wait! I… I’m a Holy Elite…! I’m King Ordalasse, a descendant of one of Levetia’s disciples…! Just what do you think that makes me?!”
“Garbage.”
Without a shred of mercy or hesitation, Wein slit his throat.
Ordalasse gave a soundless cry before growing still. The metallic scent of blood filled the room.
“Zeno.” Drawing the blade back, Wein turned around.
When he called out to her, Zeno jolted, shocked by the chain of events she’d just witnessed.
“U-um, Your Highness. Ah! What is going on…?!”
“Relax. There’s something more important here. What will you do about him?” Wein jabbed his finger toward Holonyeh, who was still cowering in fear on the floor. “You can take him out yourself if you want.”
Wein turned the hilt of the blade toward Zeno. That much was enough for Zeno to understand what he was getting at.
“W-w-w-w-w-wait! Please wait!” Holonyeh cried out, stuttering. “Please find it in your heart to forgive me! I’ll never speak a word of this to anyone!”
“No,” barked Wein, leaving Holonyeh at a loss for words.
But he quickly came back to himself and clung to Wein’s feet.
“I—I can be useful to you, dear sir! I swear to God that I will not betray you!”
“You teamed up with Levert to try to kill me.”
Holonyeh’s face paled. “You… You have it all wrong! General Levert threatened me, but it was not what I wished! He was planning to make King Ordalasse retire so he could try to take control of the government! I would never willingly cooperate with him! I-I’m not lying! The plans inside my mansion prove it!”
The sword had disappeared from Wein’s hand.
“Shut it, you damn traitor!”
Zeno faced Holonyeh and swung down. He dodged the blade by a hair, scrambling to escape, but he was quickly driven toward the wall. The sword was thrust right before his very nose.
“Eek…! W-wait! What is it you want?! If it’s within my power, I’ll give you anything…! So please, just wait…!”
“ENOUGH!” roared Zeno.
It sent a shiver down Holonyeh’s spine.
“What do you mean it wasn’t what you wished?! Are you saying you didn’t mean to betray Marden, either?!”
“M-Marden…?” Holonyeh parroted, quivering, as if he couldn’t possibly know what she was talking about. “Wh-why bring Marden up…?”
Zeno’s eyes burned with rage.
As he observed her, Wein sighed. “Oh, I see. If you commit treason carelessly, it’ll end up biting you in the ass. This has been a learning moment for me.”
Holonyeh must have picked up a hint from Wein’s words. He looked at Zeno right in front of him—shuddering with a gasp.
“A-ah… That face… You’re…!”
Then the naked blade ran through him.
“—In short, I handled things with a few creative liberties.”
“I see… I understand.”
Wein finished speaking as he swayed along on his horse. Riding next to him, Ninym covered her eyes.
“Are you impressed?”
“I’m appalled…!” That was the natural reaction. “I can’t believe it… Assassinating a Holy Elite… Of all things…!”
“Well, don’t worry about it too much, Ninym. Instead of agonizing over the past, we should look forward and figure out what we’re going to do from here on. Right?”
You’re one to talk. Ninym almost exploded, but she kept it in.
If they hadn’t been in public, she would have done him in with punches from both hands and thrown in a little knee, but now was not the time. They were surrounded by delegation members. A rowdy conversation was one thing, but it wasn’t as if she could start letting fists fly in front of everyone.
I’ll beat the living crap out of him when we get home, Ninym promised herself before switching gears.
She hated to admit that Wein was right, but right now, they needed to focus on safely getting home to Natra.
“Do you think we’ll be followed?” Ninym asked, looking over her shoulder to observe the long road. The party had already escaped, racing toward Natra. The capital was already far behind them.
“Of course, they’ll come after us. They’ll find him dead after our meeting. Which makes me the obvious suspect. Plus, we immediately fled the capital, so they have no reason not to come after us.
“However,” Wein added with a bright smile, “I annoyed them as much as I could before leaving. I think I bought us some time.”
“What is going on?!”
The Imperial Court of Cavarin—well, more like the entire capital—had fallen into mass chaos.
The cause was King Ordalasse’s death. Thinking it odd that he was a no-show to an appointed meeting, they had searched the castle and found his corpse in one of the private rooms. As soon as Levert heard the news, he got together with the other vassals and quickly imposed a gag order. It was the obvious decision. Who knew what chaos would ensue if the people discovered their king was suddenly dead? Not to mention, the Gathering of the Chosen for the Holy Elites was in session. And that occurred only once a year. There was no way they could let this get out.
He knew Prince Wein had been the one scheduled to meet with the king in that room. Levert quickly dispatched subordinates to apprehend him.
But despite putting the best possible plan in the worst possible circumstances into action, they were too late in dealing with Wein’s parting present.
“General! The building that hosted Prince Wein is on fire!”
“What?!”
Cavarin would inevitably see Wein as the enemy. Chaos would engulf the capital. But it couldn’t be further from Wein’s problem. He had set the building on fire right before they made their scramble out of there.
And that wasn’t all.
“General! A number of smaller fires have been confirmed in other districts of the city!”
He had given the order for all intelligence assets to vacate the city and set the hidden safe houses on fire.
“Argh…! In any case, just start putting out the fires and evacuate the citizens!”
The Festival of the Spirit was in full swing. People had gathered from all over, with more than twice the usual amount of residents currently staying in the city. Fires would cause mass panic.
“General, we have a problem!” Another subordinate came flying in.
“What now?!”
“There have been a series of unsettling rumors traveling around the castle town! As a result, a number of sporadic revolts have broken out…!”
“Rumors…?! What rumors?!”
The male subordinate had trouble finding the right thing to say.
“Forgive me for my words, but the rumor is that General Levert has murdered King Ordalasse, his own master…to usurp the throne…!”
Levert was lost in a stupor for a few moments before unleashing a roar.
“YOU’VE GOTTA BE KIDDING ME! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!”
“Lady Caldmellia, I have returned.”
As Owl called to her from the doorway, Caldmellia continued looking out the window.
“What’s the situation, Owl?”
Outside, black smoke was rising everywhere. The festival was no longer rowdy—but tumultuous. Here in the block of noble mansions, the guards of Cavarin provided tight security, but everywhere else had to be enveloped in angry bellows and violence by then.
“Right. The initial fire in Prince Wein’s building has started to die down. However, news of the king’s death is beginning to spread among the people. On top of that, deceptive misinformation is complicating matters, and the people are in a panic. In pockets of the city, revolts and looting have broken out.”
“Wonderful.” Caldmellia looked ecstatic and sighed. “He must have been bored by this little trip to do all this. I am nothing but thankful to Prince Wein.”
“…Is this all right? It seems we are helping him.”
“Do we have another choice? In addition to King Ordalasse’s death, we have proof of that general’s betrayal.”
As Holonyeh had said in his last breath, Levert had plans to take the throne from Ordalasse. Under Wein’s orders, Raklum had obtained proof from Holonyeh’s mansion. As they had set fire to their building and spy hideouts to make their escape, Wein decided to do the most chaotic thing imaginable and sent the proof to Caldmellia. It was a move that said he was sure she could use that information to create even more of a mess.
And he had been exactly right.
“Now that we have this precious information, it would be a waste if we didn’t use all possible means to help the fire burn bright.”
Wein had seen through her meddlesome personality and quickly used it to his advantage. Both these things concerned Owl.
“…It seems the Holy Elites are all planning to evacuate the city.”
“I suppose they would. They may be dumb as bricks, but at least they understand the imminent danger they’re in.”
“And what shall we do?”
“Please prepare our escape. After burning this place as much as possible, we will return to the land of the Holy King.”
“Understood.” Owl bowed and withdrew.
Caldmellia hadn’t turned her eyes away from the window even once and had murmured to the boy as if he were right in front of her.
“As the one who caused this festive pandemonium, it’s a shame you can’t participate. But it’s all too perfect. As my heartfelt thanks, I hope you’ll enjoy the little trap I’ve laid.”
“—Why don’t we take a short breather?”
Raklum nodded at Wein’s suggestion and relayed the announcement to the rest of the delegation. They all gave a look of relief and quickly began setting up a rest stop.
They hadn’t been told of Ordalasse’s death. Thinking it would only create confusion, Wein had told them they were immediately returning to Natra because he’d sensed that General Levert was plotting to attack.
“Ninym, how’s our pace?”
“It’s fine. It was a good idea bringing as little as possible.” Ninym spread out a map. “However, the path branches off in three directions. There’s the shortest one along the mountains, the central road, and an alternative route with famous sightseeing locations. Our plans had included using the central road both to Cavarin and back, but what is your opinion?”
“I heard the path along the mountain had frequent landslides.”
“Yes, it is steep. Accidents happen frequently.”
“Hmm… Raklum, while we’re setting up to rest, send people out to check the mountain road.”
“Understood.” Raklum immediately began selecting who to dispatch, which Wein observed from the corner of his eye.
“Ninym, you sent a bird out to Hagal, right?”
“Yes.”
“He should already be on the move, then…”
Hagal. The general protecting the gold mine.
Right after leaving the city, Ninym had sent out a messenger bird with orders to send soldiers out to meet them.
“If we can group up with Hagal, we should be able to hold off our pursuers. If it turns out the mountain road is passable, we should try to dash through it all in one go,” he said.
Ninym agreed with Wein’s assessment.
“By the way, Ninym, how’s Zeno?”
“Depressed. Troubled. Busy.”
After their escape—after dealing with Ordalasse and Holonyeh—she had fallen out of sorts. She had been wrestling with the conflicting sense of accomplishment for taking revenge on the sellout and the guilt of dirtying her own hands. Plus, she was trying to process witnessing Ordalasse’s death right before her very eyes. She carried hope that Natra and the Liberation Front would form an alliance. She couldn’t find common ground for all those emotions.
Ninym would have liked to speak with her and calm her mind, but they were in the middle of an emergency. She had no time to slip away.
“We have to make sure she gets back to the Remnant Army in one piece. Keep an eye on her.”
Ninym nodded. “Will you join with the Remnant Army?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Now that I’ve killed Ordalasse, we’ll go to war against Cavarin even if we get out of here alive. There’s no way we’re getting through that without an ally—Remnant Army or not—to back us up.”
“The situation keeps changing…”
“Seriously! Why did things turn out this way? —Ow, don’t kick my leg.”
Ninym continued to prod Wein’s shin with the tip of her shoe.
“So did you decide to ally with the Remnant Army before you killed Ordalasse? Or after?”
“Before, of course. Come on, I’m not that reckless. I wouldn’t kill him without thinking ahead.”
“Hmm, I see. And I’m sure you weren’t simply thinking about what your options were after killing him, right?”
“……”
“Look at me.”
Wein refused to meet her eyes. Ninym sandwiched his face with both hands and forced him to look at her.
“Coming up with a plan under the assumption that you’ll kill him is basically the same as thinking about it afterward…!”
“No, well, the timing all came down to his request. If that hadn’t happened, there’d be a good, decent, slight chance that the results would have been different.”
“Liar! You would have killed him no matter what.”
“Have some faith in my logic.”
“I only believe in the situation at hand. Also, who was it that said no assassinations at the meeting?” Ninym pulled at his cheeks.
A shadow was suddenly cast over them.
As they looked up at the sky to see what was going on, they caught sight of a large bird, its wings fanned out as it came in for a landing.
“That’s…word from the palace,” Ninym said.
She quickly faced the bird and held out her arm, where it gently landed. A cylinder was attached to its foot, and Ninym immediately opened it to take out the scroll inside.
“What’s it say, Ninym?”
Birds as clever as this one were a rare find and only used for emergencies. In other words, something at home had been urgent enough for them to dispatch it. Wein sensed a terrible premonition as Ninym faced him.
“It seems General Hagal has started a revolt.”
“………Huh?”
Wein couldn’t help but doubt his own ears.
Since birth, this child had been saddled with the sin of cowardice—abandoning a master to run away.
For this crime, the child was scorned daily while continuing to eke out an unfortunate existence.
When was it that this child first started to feel desire? When had this small being started to think of nothing but prestige? It didn’t matter if no one understood. As someone with nothing, the child wanted an honor, even if it was only a small share of it.
That was why the teen set foot on the battlefield, fighting without pause, believing in the hope of receiving recognition one day.
And the soldier was skilled in battle, shooting through the ranks and performing brilliantly as a general. This was a time of bliss—of honor. A season golden with coins.
But then winter came.
The soldier’s master raised heinous accusations, sweeping away any trace of a favorable reputation. Why? There was no answer to this question. Before long, the familiar days of scorn returned, settling back on an all-too-human body. But unlike before, seeking honor was no longer an option.
In anger, in hatred, in regret, in agony, the pariah fled home and wandered. These were days of disdain and contempt as the stigma shadowed every path.
And then finally, the wanderer arrived in a small nation to the far north. It was a poor land largely unaffected by war. It was wretched. The traveler had once led ten thousand soldiers and basked in the adulation of the people. The thought of rotting away in this country was enough to bring on a few tears.
But the king had said A chance may come when that talent of yours will be needed. Until then, continue to hone your skills.
The new resident believed the king’s words—or wanted to believe them. Days passed without event, the hours filled with nothing except for studying and training.
It had been a year. No opportunity had come.
And then five years passed without note. But the citizen kept doubt at bay.
And then ten years of being harrowed by anxiety had gone by.
And then twenty. By now, resignation weighed heavier than lead.
And then thirty. Something in the continent had changed: the rise of a sagacious prince.
And the opportunity had finally arrived.
But reaching out hands trembling with joy, the elder noticed something… How old and wrinkled they had become—
“What troubles you, General Hagal?”
“Ngh…” General Hagal slowly opened his eyes.
They were in the defense fortress built to the west of the Jilaat gold mine. At the moment, Hagal was gathered there with a dozen of his men.
“Pardon. When I think about what my hands are about to do, they seem to slightly resist.”
“I’m afraid that will not do. You are the leader of the new army of Natra, after all.”
The New Army. It was the name the people gathered here had given themselves. In actuality, it was a rebel army.
It all started after Wein’s delegation passed through the fortress.
Without any warning, the lords of each land led their soldiers to this fortress. They had numbered up to two thousand. The fortress’s garrison had reached five hundred. Even then, their defense remained unfazed. This was primarily because the lords flew the flag of Natra and because they had Hagal. If push came to shove, they had full confidence they could expel those soldiers under their general’s orders.
But in the end, no swords were crossed. Hagal explained they were the reinforcements that he had requested of the lords himself. They all deeply trusted the general, showing no trace of doubt. They let the lords’ soldiers into the fortress.
No one could blame the defending soldiers. How could they have noticed that these lords were the ones who Wein had been keeping an eye on due to signs of potential mutiny?
Or that their beloved general was trying to dupe them?
The situation quickly changed. By the time the defense noticed something was off, it was already too late. The lords’ forces bound them. They then took control of the mining town and declared their independence with Hagal as their leader.
“—How’s the situation at the palace?”
“In an uproar, according to our spies. Well, it’s not surprising since they don’t have the prince there with them.”
“Good. Let’s really throw them into a panic.”
The lords were all in high spirits as they chatted. This was only natural. They were taking a once-in-a-lifetime gamble, and right now, everything seemed to be leaning largely in their favor. Even if there were lords who didn’t exactly agree, no one could put a stop to it. Wein and Ninym had been aware of this when they found out about the current situation, and the truth was, they were right.
However, three reasons brought this situation about that even the lords could have never imagined.
One, Wein had gone to Cavarin as part of the delegation. The accompanying entourage had been set to a minimum, which convinced the lords that they could easily take them out.
Two, they had Hagal on their side. He had the battle prowess to overtake Wein as head of their rebel army and was able to unite the disorderly group of rebel lords.
Three, a third party had tied the lords and Hagal together.
“—My apologies for being late,” called out a woman as she entered the room.
The female merchant Ibis had been the central figure in bringing Hagal and the lords together.
“How was it, Ibis?”
“There are no issues. Prince Wein is on his way back to Natra.”
The lords grew excited. Securing Wein on his return from Cavarin was a crucial step in their rebellion. As long as they had Wein, they could negotiate with either Natra or Cavarin—their choice.
“Let’s get the soldiers in formation!”
“Wait, there are three roads to Cavarin. We don’t know which to cover…”
“Spreading out our forces is risky.”
“Then should we place them at a meeting point…?”
The lords argued over this animatedly but couldn’t come to any sort of agreement. Naturally. Wein kept them far from his political administration, and the complete and honest truth was that they had no talent.
“What do you think, General Hagal?” They looked toward their leader.
The old veteran took one look at them and quietly spoke. “As mentioned, the roads leading toward us eventually converge into a single path. You should lie in wait there.”
“Right, let’s quickly gather our forces, and—”
“However.” Hagal stopped the eager lords. “We also need to keep an eye on the soldiers originally stationed here and be prepared when Natra’s main forces come to take back the fortress. Not to mention, Prince Wein’s soldiers are less than one hundred. Taking along five hundred soldiers is more than enough.”
They were mobilizing a quarter of their troops. The lords nodded in agreement with Hagal’s logical strategy, but Ibis cut in.
“Please wait, General Hagal. Our foe is Prince Wein. I am willing to bet he can outmaneuver five hundred. To be absolutely sure, won’t it be safer to dispatch a thousand more?”
“I am still concerned whether we can defend ourselves here.”
“Then what if we put an end to the soldiers guarding the fortress?” Ibis cooed.
The lords shuddered. The forces here were elite soldiers who Hagal had raised and trained himself. Even when restraining them, he’d given them strict orders not to cause any bloodshed. For fear of incurring Hagal’s wrath, no one had been able to say that they should kill these soldiers to decrease the burden at the fortress.
But surprisingly enough, Hagal gave an indifferent reply devoid of any emotion.
“They may still be loyal to Natra now, but I know they’ll change their minds to follow me if Wein dies. Then we’ll have soldiers with battle experience. It would be a waste to get rid of them here.”
“…I see; you’re right. Well, what if we take half of our soldiers to the front lines? You may be concerned over insufficient forces, General Hagal, but please do not worry. I said so before, but reinforcements are headed this way.”
It was the lords who expressed joy at this—not Hagal.
“Oh. How heartening!”
“I knew it! We weren’t the only ones fed up with Prince Wein.”
“Of course not. What kind of chump puts Flahm in positions of power? And why would he ever be popular?”
Hagal looked at the excited nobles from the corner of his eye, then stared at Ibis.
“There’s no question that more forces are on their way, right, Ibis?”
“Of course.”
“…Very well. We’ll blockade the main road with a thousand soldiers and lie in wait for Wein. Prepare to move out.”
““Right!””
The lords all stood up and left the room to carry out Hagal’s orders. Hagal stayed in his place and finally looked at Ibis, who had lagged behind.
“Ibis, once everything is over—”
“I know. As promised, I shall return to your homeland, restore your honor, and arrange for you to be received as a general. I’m certain it will be a simple matter for my master.”
“Very well…”
“Everything has gone favorably because of Your Excellency… Reaching out to you was worthwhile, as were the others.”
“Are you being sarcastic?”
“I’m being honest. I’m sure you have your own opinions about the prince.”
This was neither a question nor a jest, and Hagal remained silent a long while, then spoke as if to himself.
“…I am old. I cannot return to that time of my life in Natra. Forgive me, Prince Wein. Everything is already too late.”
Meanwhile, Wein was troubled.
Okaaay. What to do?
Choosing to trust a piece of information lay largely on the deliverer’s authority and their relationship to the receiving party. People tended to believe information that came from a person in power, a specialist, or an acquaintance.
As for why, it was because there were time and physical constraints.
Take, for example, a strange animal scratching at the house next door. You could decide to check it out yourself, of course. But when it came down to foreign affairs, it wasn’t so easy to pop over and see things for yourself.
If a stranger insisted it was a red bird, and a friend—or an influential figure—claimed it had blue plumes, most would generally believe the latter.
In other words…
“Ninym, do you think Hagal is a traitor?”
“All signs would normally point to fake news.”
They had come down to this question.
General Hagal. He had rank, skill, and a long record of accomplishments in service to Natra. Even if the dispatcher had used the bird reserved for emergencies, Ninym—much less the citizens of Natra—couldn’t help but think there was some sort of mistake to suspect him of betraying their country.
—However, there was one more factor when it came to how much information could be trusted.
“This might mean that last scheme of yours drained him of all affection he had for you.”
“NYAAAAAGH!” Wein yelped.
By that last scheme, she meant the plan to use Hagal as bait to draw out any dissenters. Hagal and Wein had intentionally spread rumors for this purpose, but no one could deny Hagal’s loss of reputation might have left him inclined to follow through with this scheme.
While the timing had been unexpected, Wein had hoped Hagal would gather a group of rebels, so it was realistic to believe he was raising an army.
Could he pinpoint a specific cause for this information? That would drastically change the information’s believability.
“I’ve said many times that I was opposed to it.”
“I know! I know, okay? I get it! I was wrong! Hagal’s betrayal! Cavarin coming after us! It’s aaaaaaall my fault!”
“Wow, you’re so right… I’m shocked…”
“Seriously. I mean, even I think I’m a piece of garbage…”
They could reflect on it all they wanted once they got out of this situation.
“The first issue is whether there is a rebel army and whether Hagal is the mastermind. Then, there’s the question of whether he actually betrayed us or if he’s under circumstances that give him no choice but to obey…”
“Since we’re short on time, we should assume the worst. Assume there is a rebel army, that Hagal is their leader, that he betrayed us by his own will. Let’s put his motive aside and operate under those conditions.”
Wein nodded at her assessment. “The three roads ahead are different lengths, but once you pass through them, they merge into one. I imagine Hagal is waiting for me there to either capture or kill me.”
“According to reports, it seems Hagal has already gathered soldiers. He’ll be moving quickly. Even if we use the mountain path as originally planned, it will be difficult to pass through before they cut us off.”
“But our options outside of that are kinda meh…”
Wein had heard the rebel army numbered close to two thousand. He had no idea how many were coming for them, but it’d probably be in the five hundred to one thousand range. And if Hagal was the one giving the orders, it would be hard to fight or escape if he got pinned down even once.
That said, if they ventured off the main road and got bogged down, Cavarin would catch up from behind. They had investigated the troops in the capital of Cavarin ahead of time: Pursuit would likely comprise mostly horsemen and anywhere between two to five hundred soldiers. Meaning another enemy that Wein’s group couldn’t handle.
Honestly, things weren’t looking good. As they wondered what to do, Raklum rushed up to them.
“Your Highness, those who went to investigate the mountain path have returned.”
“Oh, how’d it go?”
Raklum shook his head. “I have unfortunate news. There was a landslide the other day, and now it seems the road is impassable.”
Ninym moaned at this, unbidden. They were in dire straits, and yet, they couldn’t use the shortest road. It made their chances of getting past Hagal’s blockade all the slimmer.
“…And how long will it take to clear?” Wein asked.
“The shortest time frame is ten days.”
Ten days. It would be impossible to wait that long. Ninym was certain Cavarin would catch up by then.
Options, options. We can either pray for the safety of Wein and his select few as they attempt to race through the central highway on horseback before the rebel army arrives or leave the main roads and proceed cautiously in the hopes of avoiding discovery.
Either one had a considerable risk. Wasn’t there a more reliable option that could at least help Wein out of this situation?
As Ninym thought about this, she gave Wein a sidelong glance and noticed that a bold smile was breaking out on his lips.
“—Let’s get moving, Raklum. Break’s over. Get everyone ready to go.”
“Understood!” Raklum left quickly to do as he was instructed.
“Ninym, call Zeno over. We’ve got some things to discuss.”
“Understood… But what are you going to do, Wein?”
Ninym couldn’t help but ask, and Wein replied mischievously.
“Put their unseen backs to good use.”
A few days had passed since Wein’s group escaped from Cavarin. Levert had finally started to subdue the capital and ordered an adjutant to send out a pursuit party.
“Listen up! Capture the prince of Natra at any cost! He assassinated King Ordalasse!”
Though he faced his subordinates with fervor, Levert was still having a tough time dealing with internal affairs. After King Ordalasse’s sudden passing, Levert had become the core of the provisional government. As a general, he had been initially entrusted with military matters, and he’d also been the one issuing orders to quell the capital, so it only made sense for him to fill the position.
But the rumors that he had murdered his own master made it seem as if he had been scheming to gain the position in the ensuing chaos of the king’s death. Levert was well aware of this.
To make things worse, the Holy Elites had returned to their home countries. If they had either declared their confidence in the new provisional government or appointed a crown prince as a new Holy Elite, he would have probably been able to stop the situation from deteriorating.
But the reality was that he was currently plagued with scandal and left facing nothing but protests. Things were not looking to be in his favor. The citizens had not only lost their king but also a huge structural support system—the Holy Elites. Of course, the citizens—and even the government officials—would be consumed by panic. The lords of the realm must have started to seriously weigh their choices. They needed a scapegoat or an easy reason to explain it all. That was why Levert was in a very precarious position indeed.
“We must catch that prince and expose him as the mastermind…!”
In truth, Levert had one more option. He could foist the blame on any old person and wrap things up that way—but he wouldn’t take that route out.
Because rage consumed Levert—for the blow to his pride that this uproar had caused and for the king’s death. He needed justification for invading Natra. That had driven Levert to take action.
“Come on, get going! We can still catch them!”
Levert’s close aide, Kustavi, led his subordinates as they raced down the northern road—all cavalry, coming in at around five hundred strong. It was almost excessive, since their opponent’s party exceeded no more than fifty. Levert had been faced with some criticism for sending out soldiers en masse—for the turmoil in the capital had yet to die down—but he silenced them. He couldn’t allow them get away, even if it was only a one-in-a-million chance.
“Captain, the scouts have returned!”
A few horsemen raced toward Kustavi, confirming the condition of the road ahead.
“How is it? Did you find out which road they took?”
“Yes! There were signs of them on the central road. We found discarded luggage.”
Kustavi raised a brow. “They didn’t take the mountain road?”
They must have known they were being followed. The delegation should have taken the shortest road, risking its dangers. And yet—
“Apparently, there had been a landslide before their group could reach the road. It’s still being cleaned up. It’s currently impossible to pass,” explained one of his subordinates.
That made sense to Kustavi. He knew that road was basically falling apart. God had to be punishing Wein for his wickedness. Levert was chuckling to himself when he suddenly became suspicious of something else.
“Captain, let us set off in pursuit. We should be able to overtake them,” urged the subordinate.
But Kustavi shook his head, eyes glinting. “No. We should hold off. This must be a setup.”
“A setup?”
“Yes…”
Kustavi had instinctively reached down to touch his foot, where Wein had pierced him with a spear. After all, he had been the one who led the attack against the delegation.
With his own two eyes, Kustavi had witnessed the prince make his way out of his predicament, weaponizing the resources available to him and exercising his snap judgment. That was why Kustavi wasn’t convinced that he’d leave behind obvious tracks.
“I’m guessing they’re planning on taking a detour—and trying to trick us into thinking they took the central road. That way they wouldn’t be pursued from behind,” he reasoned.
The subordinates all seemed to understand. It really was a cheeky little trick. But now that they had seen through the ruse, it was clear Wein’s group had specifically chosen the longest route to Natra.
“Come on! They’ll be at the end of the byway!” barked Kustavi, and the party in pursuit quickly set off.
“We’ve successfully deployed the troops, General Hagal.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Three roads to Cavarin. Led by Hagal, the rebel army of a thousand soldiers took up positions at the crossroad.
“Even the prince won’t be able to escape this one,” boasted one of the lords near him.
The others nodded in agreement.
That was when a woman cut into their conversation. “…But will this be okay?”
It was Ibis. She had accompanied them to the battlefield. The lords were in a foul mood because she was a woman—and a lowly merchant at that! And she hadn’t simply followed them to the battlegrounds; she was acting like she owned the place! But there was no denying that she played a huge part in helping them rise to action, so they said nothing.
“To prepare, we should give the right to command all the forces to General Hagal.”
Like she implied, the rebel forces were not unified—because the lords had each brought their own soldiers.
Many of the lords had come here with the intention of commanding their own armies. It just wouldn’t sit right with them if Hagal led their personal soldiers to their deaths.
And what’s more, Hagal himself didn’t act as if he wished for that, either.
“I know I am the symbolic head, but I share their opinion… And with this many soldiers, I don’t think we’ll have any difficulty capturing the prince, even under different commands.”
“What the general says.”
“Women should stay back and keep their mouths shut!”
With this much pushback, Ibis couldn’t say anything more. And thus, the hodgepodge army remained divided. They continued to lie in wait for the prince.
“—Hmm.” Hagal caught the sound of horses’ hooves.
It wasn’t from one horse—or two, or ten, or even twenty.
It had to be over a hundred cavalrymen coming their way!
“The enemy is coming! Ready your weapons!”
As Hagal raised his voice, the lords and soldiers scattered into their positions. As they did, the sound grew closer—and five hundred horsemen appeared before them.
With the scene before him, Kustavi quickly called out, “Halt! All forces, at ease!”
At their captain’s order, the horsemen slowed and came to a stop. After craning his neck to look at their situation, Kustavi looked forward once again. There were around a thousand soldiers ready for battle on the road ahead.
“Who the hell are they…?” He groaned—visibly confused and on guard.
Things had been going great until he had come up with his theory that the main road was a trap and raced toward the byway. But they had gone on and on without encountering even a shadow of the delegation. Kustavi was starting to get impatient. He wondered if he had read into the situation too deeply.
But it wasn’t as if he could just call it quits. He had believed the delegation was on the road ahead and continued onward— Now, they were face-to-face with a mysterious army.
“They don’t fly the flag of Natra. And they’re all in different uniforms. Could they be bandits?”
“Would bandits be in formation? What kind of army is this…?”
It was an odd situation. They weren’t the only ones disoriented, either; he could feel the confusion radiating from the other army. In other words, neither knew the identity of the other.
Kustavi asked himself what they should do. How should they deal with this unexpected encounter?
As he stressed over this, a single horseman cautiously approached them.
This was their chance. His only target was the prince of Natra. He wanted to avoid any meaningless battles. Kustavi got ready to send out a soldier in response, and—
“The enemy is attacking!” shrieked someone from behind.
What’s with this person?
That question had been occupying Zeno’s mind ever since they’d hightailed it out of Cavarin. She had known he’d had the skills to drive back Marden, and from their conversations on the road to Cavarin, she knew his values were quiet yet resolute. But now, she was stupefied—by his method of undermining enemy nations with books, his peculiar way of thinking that could rival the Holy Elites, and his decisiveness in murdering King Ordalasse.
As they’d approached the three forked roads at last, the enemy had closed in on them from both sides.
“We’ll let the party in pursuit pass us,” he had said, “then go head-to-head with Hagal’s rebel army.”
She’d been dumbfounded. That would be the last thing that she would ever think to do.
“More specifically, we’ll let our pursuers pass us and then attack them from behind—right as the two sides confront each other. Then, we’ll break through the chaos and turn the whole thing into a chaotic battlefield.”
When Wein put it that way, it felt as though this was the only option. That, of course, meant they needed a way to let the party in pursuit pass them, but—
“That’s simple,” Wein had commented. “We can leave our luggage and belongings on the main road to signal we were there, then hide on the mountain road until they pass us.”
The mountain road was prone to landslides, providing plenty of shelter under rocks. It wouldn’t be difficult to hide fifty people. And since the party in pursuit wanted to catch up to Wein’s group as quickly as possible, their investigation into their whereabouts would be perfunctory at best.
Wein would win, no matter what course his pursuers chose: They would either run down the central road upon spotting their luggage—or try to read into his next steps and take the byway. They couldn’t take the mountain pass, since there was that recent landslide, which left only two options. At least, making them think they only had two options would ensure Wein’s success.
But could they really pull it off?
Logically? Yes. But it was only a theory. If the party in pursuit had been more thorough in their investigations, the delegation would have been caught in a fight with no way to retreat. If that happened, Wein would be captured—and the rest killed.
And yet, Wein decided to put this theory to the test. He had come to terms with the possibility of death and pushed it aside as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Is that what you call the makings of a king?
She had no idea, though there was one thing she could say for sure.
The unguarded backs of the party in pursuit before them was proof his plan had succeeded.
The series of events that followed would be best described as a chain reaction.
“Wh-what?! What’s going on?!”
The surprise attack from behind threw the pursuers into absolute chaos. Even though the possibility of being struck from behind was psychologically tormenting, the cavalrymen couldn’t easily turn around as such a maneuver would entail deftly maneuvering their horses. Unfortunately, their comrades to the left and right would get in the way and prevent them from moving freely.
This meant the only way out was forward. The horsemen could put some distance between them and fix the situation—but if they moved ahead any farther, they’d only be faced with the rebel army ready to confront them.
“C-calm down! Under no circumstances are you to attack!”
“Don’t retreat! If you do, I’ll have your head!”
“Dammit! Who are they?! Are they the enemy…?!”
Five hundred horsemen had come into sight. That alone had been enough for the lords to fall into chaos. Trying to organize the soldiers in this state was virtually impossible. They hurled contradicting orders at their troops, and the soldiers’ organization completely dissolved.
But to the pursuers, it looked exactly like they were preparing for attack by breaking out from their initial formations.
Which was how the two parties somehow landed on the same page.
“All right, it looks like it’s come to this. Charge! Break through the forward lines!”
“The enemy is attacking! All units, prepare to engage!”
And so, the battle between a thousand rebels and five hundred horsemen began.
The battlefield had turned into a melee.
The pursuers rushed forward and failed to break through the defenses of the rebel army. But they managed to land a huge blow. Friend and foe jumbled together as they crossed swords.
Agh, I’ve had enough! Who would have thought it would turn out like this…?!
Out in the middle of the madness and surrounded by guards, Ibis clicked her tongue. She had planned to kill Wein here after he escaped from Cavarin. The prince was dangerous. If left alive, she was sure he would become an enemy of her master, Caldmellia.
But she hadn’t found Wein—all she had caught was a mysterious band of cavalry.
Just before she realized they must have been the pursuers sent from Cavarin and that they could try to make peaceful contact, the battle had begun.
Why would the party in pursuit show up before the prince…?!
Where in the world was the prince? Could the pursuing party from Cavarin seriously have overlooked him on the road? She could have probably figured it out if the rebels and the pursuers could just talk, but chaos had broken out, and that chance was now long gone.
…No, wait. This mess couldn’t possibly be…
Ibis realized something, snapping up her head to look out over the battlefield.
“…I see. You’ve certainly outdone yourself.”
Ibis quickly began to move. Taking the guards with her, she headed to the heart of the rebel army where Hagal and the lords were barking out orders. The mishmash of an army hadn’t yet completely collapsed because several of Hagal’s forces were issuing orders on his behalf and helping hold things together by a thin thread.
“General Hagal!”
“…Ah, Ibis. What is it?”
“This is all a trap set by Prince Wein! He’s having us clash with that cavalry so he can slip through in the chaos! I imagine he is aiming to release the guards from the fortress!” she shouted.
The lords became more confused and at a total loss for words.
Among all this, Hagal looked around calmly. “We’ll gather any soldiers we can and chase the prince. Order the rest to fall back. Even their cavalry is unlikely to pursue us needlessly.”
““U-understood!””
Coordinating with nearby lords, Hagal swiftly gathered soldiers—around two hundred in number. The group withdrew from the battlefield and headed east toward the fortress at full speed.
There are fifty people in the prince’s delegation. They must have split off into small groups to slip by more easily, which means there must be a group or two that won’t make it to the other side. His delegation must have gotten smaller—and exhausted from escaping Cavarin.
At this rate, we can definitely catch them, Ibis thought assuredly as she traveled with Hagal.
Her conviction soon became reality. Sensing movement, they caught members of Wein’s group as they made their way through the wilderness. It had been less than twenty people. As expected, two hundred soldiers would be more than enough to bring them down once they caught them.
When Wein realized he’d been discovered, he did the unexpected. Rather than trying to escape, he stopped and looked behind him.
Hagal’s forces got close enough that both parties could hear each other and stopped.
There were two hundred soldiers in high spirits and twenty exhausted men. It was obvious what would happen if the two sides crossed swords.
But even now, Wein refused to fall apart.
“General Hagal. Glad to see you’re doing well.” Wein greeted him as if they were meeting in the royal court.
His nonchalance—which lacked any animosity or threat—was what had sparked fear.
“…Are you not even going to ask for a reason?” Hagal asked.
Wein smiled. “I’ll ask after I win.”
There was no way a single rebel could possibly know that this place had been where Levert’s assassins had ambushed Wein’s party on their way to Cavarin.
“—Now, attack!”
The Remnant Army of Marden emerged from the shadows of the boulders and attacked Hagal’s rebel army.
“Well, then,” said Wein to Zeno before they hid themselves away on the mountain path.
“The plan is to slip in and out of the battlefield right after they start engaging with the pursuers, and everything turns crazy. But Hagal or someone else is bound to catch on to us. Which is why,” Wein continued, “we’re going to use that to lure in our pursuers, bring them down, and weaken their fighting power.”
“…Isn’t this when we should be thinking of an escape route instead?” Zeno pointed out.
Wein shook his head. “If possible, this is the point where I want to either capture Hagal or reduce the lords’ troops. We might be facing Cavarin in a single battle after this, and I want to conserve as much time and manpower as possible. Out there, they’re getting riled up over the Cavarin—who they wouldn’t even shed a single tear over if the entire cavalry was annihilated. I gotta take advantage of that, no matter what.”
Ninym raised a hand. “If you’re the decoy, where will we get the forces to bring them down?”
“The Remnant Army of Marden is going to help us out.”
“Huh?” Zeno couldn’t stop herself.
“In exchange, we’re offering a joint front against Cavarin and assistance to revive the royal capital of Marden. What do you say, Zeno?”
“U-umm, well, I can’t really make that decision on my own…”
“I’m pretty sure you can.”
Wein’s assertion left Zeno completely speechless. Their eyes locked for a moment.
Finally, Zeno spoke as if in resignation. “…I will send a bird out with orders to have soldiers hide in the appointed location. However, Your Highness, I cannot guarantee they will actually be waiting for us until we get there.”
Wein chuckled. “Trust only has value because there’s the potential of betrayal. Isn’t that right?”
Three hundred soldiers from Marden were lying in wait. They were just strong enough to bring down the rebel forces that came after Wein.
Furthermore, the rebels had been slapped together to make an army. The surprise attack simply crushed their already flagging morale; most were already surrendering or escaping. The rest of the soldiers’ resistance gradually weakened until finally they all dropped their weapons. One lone veteran general stood in the center, his grip tightening over his sword—Hagal.
“…Well done, Your Highness,” he said, standing before Wein. “These old bones are no match for you.”
From atop his horse, Wein called out to him. “Don’t you have any words to defend yourself?”
“I do not. However, this was entirely my own decision. The fortress guards had no part in it.”
“…You’ll be put on trial. The punishment will fit the crime.”
“I have no regrets. After all, I did all this because I thought it was necessary.”
And with that, Hagal tossed his weapon to the ground.
He was quickly restrained, and Wein’s party immediately went to infiltrate the fortress occupied by the rebel army. They already had a full understanding of its layout, of course, so releasing the guards who’d been placed under house arrest was not difficult.
They carried out a ferocious assault and expelled the rebels in short order.
Meanwhile, the pursuers retreated, and once the few hundred returning rebels found out they lost the fortress and that Hagal had been apprehended, they quickly surrendered as well. The battlefield was quiet once more.
And thus, Hagal’s rebellion came to an end.
“…Honestly, I can’t believe things turned out this way.”
Gazing at the liberated fortress from far off, Ibis clicked her tongue. After Marden’s surprise attack, she had realized there was no chance of victory and escaped as fast as she could.
“We could have never imagined that general would be so useless.”
Forming this plan had cost a hefty sum of money and a decent amount of time—from contacting and secretly supporting the lords dissatisfied with Wein to deciding the right timing for enacting the plan altogether. And yet, Wein was fine, and the rebellion was destroyed.
But there were advantages to failure.
“Hagal will now be gone from the stage,” her subordinate stated matter-of-factly.
Ibis nodded reluctantly. Wein had been the plan’s main target, but the next best thing—Hagal—was someone who they had wanted either killed or expelled from society. After all, the military strength of Natra would fall drastically without him.
“As the ringleader of the revolt, he can’t escape execution… Let us enjoy witnessing how the war with Cavarin unfolds from here on,” Ibis spat like venom.
Then, she turned on her heel and walked away.
Just as she’d said, news of Hagal’s execution spread across the nation soon after.
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