ACT 4
Across the world and throughout history, there has been a certain tradition in the noble households of many cultures: After giving birth, rather than nursing her newborn child herself, the mother would give over the baby to be nursed by another woman who had also recently given birth.
Through this process, a familial relationship would be formed between children who, while not strictly related by blood, had been raised through infancy by the same woman and nursed at the same breast. These were known as “milk siblings,” and as their families were frequently linked through the hierarchy of the nobility, they would often go on to spend their lives together, one in service to the other, and they shared a close, special bond between them that was as powerful as that of true brothers and sisters.
Fagrahvél was Sigrdrífa’s milk sibling and truly loved her as a sister, despite understanding that such feelings were improper to hold towards someone so much higher in status.
Furthermore, Sigrdrífa had been born cursed with a body that could not be exposed to direct sunlight, which gave her no end of difficulties.
I will protect her.
Fagrahvél had first sworn that as a young child. Deep down, some part of Fagrahvél believed that that moment, and the path that led out from it, had been destined to occur from the very beginning.
The turning point of that destiny had come later—six years ago, now...
“Fate is strange, isn’t it? I, the worthless failure, am now the þjóðann.”
The previous þjóðann had died unexpectedly, and Fagrahvél’s milk sister Sigrdrífa suddenly became the successor to the throne.
Under ordinary circumstances, her biological older brother should have been next in the line of proper succession.
However, by whatever trick of fate, the twin runes of Ásgarðr—symbols of the right to rule over the Holy Ásgarðr Empire and proof of the þjóðann’s true successor—had appeared in Sigrdrífa’s eyes instead.
“Such is the wisdom of the great Ymir, Your Majesty. He must have understood your deep heart and extraordinary strength of character.”
It was not flattery, but what Fagrahvél truly believed.
True, Sigrdrífa was weak in body and spent many days unable to leave her bed.
However, her intellect was strong to make up for that, and she was an avid learner.
In her first ten years of life, she had educated herself in politics and governance, religious rites, history, and the complicated spells of seiðr magic. The breadth and depth of her knowledge was enough to amaze Fagrahvél, seven years her senior.
Her biological brother, on the other hand, was completely different.
He held no interest in government, nor did he devote any effort to his studies. He merely used his authority and influence as a member of the imperial family to serve his own selfish desires, filling his days with parties, drink, and women.
There was no need to even compare the two of them. It was clear who was more deserving to become the þjóðann.
Sigrdrífa might not be able to charge across the fields of battle, leading armies to victory, but by ruling the empire with sound and wise governance, she could bring its citizens an age of peace and stability.
Fagrahvél absolutely believed her to be capable of that, even if perhaps that came from a place of bias as her milk sibling. Fagrahvél held a sense of pride in her... as an older sister would.
Sigrdrífa, however, responded with a dry laugh, full of what seemed like a grim sense of resignation.
“Ha ha... Character is of little relevance for a decorative figurehead.”
“Your Majesty, that’s...”
“Hmph, that is the reality, whatever language you might try to dress it in. True authority over this empire is no longer held by the þjóðann. It is held by that hideous, despicable old man.”
Sigrdrífa spat out the words with bitter loathing in her voice.
The Spear Clan patriarch, Hárbarth.
The average lifespan in Yggdrasil was around fifty years, but that old man was well on his way to reaching eighty, and he was still somehow as cunning and full of energy as ever. It seemed almost supernatural.
Over the past twenty years, Hárbarth had expanded his influence within the imperial court and government, and only a few days ago, he had obtained the position of Imperial High Priest, unprecedented and unusual for someone who was already a vassal lord.
The Imperial High Priest wielded the greatest religious authority and responsibility over the empire’s sacred rites of worship to the gods. As the Holy Ásgarðr Empire was a theocracy, that meant that he also held the position of highest political authority within the imperial government.
And the fact that Hárbarth’s brazen power grab had been allowed in the first place was a testament to how overwhelming his influence within the empire had finally grown—and to how much the real authority of the þjóðann had waned.
“So, have you heard? That old man is putting himself forward as a candidate to be my husband, and trying to force the decision through.”
“Wha—?!” Fagrahvél was stunned speechless.
This was completely out of the blue.
“But he is old enough to be your great grandfather...”
“Yes. Well, that is one issue with it that’s serving to stall his efforts a bit, but in the end, I still expect things will go his way.”
Sigrdrífa sighed, staring off into the distance.
There was no light in her eyes. It was as if she’d already given up on life.
Why is it that she is always plagued by misfortune?!
Fagrahvél’s teeth clenched tightly in indignation.
Sickly from the day she was born. Unable to walk outside in the sunlight. Shunned even by her own biological parents because of her peculiar appearance. Avoided by members of the imperial court due to her reputation as a shunned child. And now, forced to marry such a horrible old man. This was too much. It was unjust.
“Well, we are talking about six years from now, when I come of age. I am sure that old man will do us a favor and die off before then, and the issue will be moot.”
Sigrdrífa said this with a playful tone, perhaps in response to how grim Fagrahvél’s expression had become.
But that did not clear the clouds from over Fagrahvél’s heart.
It was true that Hárbarth was very old.
Common sense would hold that it was more likely than not that he would pass away sometime over the next six years.
However, he’d already accomplished something miraculous just by having lived to his current age.
Fagrahvél couldn’t imagine a future where that strange, creepy old man died so easily.
“...Your Majesty.”
“Mm? What is it? You’re making a scary face.”
“I would like to request some time away from your service.”
“Wha?! Wh-What’s with you all of a sudden?!”
Up until this point, Sigrdrífa’s expression had been cold and unchanging, but now she was flustered, and raising her voice.
She didn’t want Fagrahvél to leave her side.
That emotion was communicated so clearly with her reaction, and it filled Fagrahvél with both happiness and a sense of pride.
That was precisely why Fagrahvél needed to be apart from her now.
“As I am now, I lack the power I need to oppose that old man in any effective way. During these next six years, I shall obtain that power without fail. A power that will protect you from any and all who would do you ill.”
Afterwards, through the political connections of Fagrahvél’s father, Fagrahvél was able to be sworn in as a new member of the Sword Clan and spent the following months and years striving desperately to earn military achievements that would grant an elevated status within the clan.
Finally, the year before last, Fagrahvél ascended to the position of patriarch of the Sword Clan and made a triumphant return to the imperial capital.
All of it had been for the sake of protecting Fagrahvél’s precious little sister.
And so, more time passed...
“The ruler of the Steel Clan, Suoh-Yuuto. The one calling himself the ‘reginarch.’ He is actually... the Black One of prophecy.”
“Wha?!”
Fagrahvél was so shocked that at first she doubted her ears. She then found herself cursing the great god Ymir for shouldering her little sister with such a cruel destiny.
The Black One.
It was an enigmatic name which first emerged when the first þjóðann, Wotan, had requested of the oracle and priestess Völva that she divine the empire’s future. It was suggested in her prophecy that the Black One would cause the destruction of the empire.
The first man for whom Fagrahvél’s little sister had held romantic feelings in her tender heart—he, of all people, was the ultimate nemesis who threatened the empire!
Fagrahvél had prayed that this was all some sort of mistake.
However, in the records of Völva’s prophecy left behind, there were too many lines that matched up perfectly with the history and actions of the lord of the Steel Clan.
The terrible weight of that knowledge on Sigrdrífa was probably the reason that her behavior lately was so strange, too, as if she’d become a different person...
“I am so sorry for the pain you are going through, Lady Rífa... Ah!”
Fagrahvél was awakened by the sound of her own voice, crying out in her sleep.
She was in a small, dark, cramped space.
She could hear the rumbling and clacking sounds of wagon wheels, and feel the vibrations from the bumps in the ground.
Apparently, she was in a covered horse-drawn carriage.
“Oooh, you are finally awaaake?”
Sitting next to Fagrahvél, Bára flashed a bright smile.
“It seems I was having a dream of days long past,” Fagrahvél whispered, looking up at the carriage ceiling.
The change in the level of sluggishness in her body served to inform her of how many days had passed. It seemed she had been asleep for more than just one or two days.
She felt guilty for having made Bára and her other child subordinates worry about her.
However, she had also been able to reaffirm her life’s mission.
She would eliminate anyone who would cause harm or suffering to her little sister.
It mattered not whether that person was the conquering lord of a rising superpower nation like Suoh-Yuuto, or an old man who ruled the empire from the shadows with strange, monstrous powers, like Hárbarth.
Fagrahvél would accomplish her mission, even if it cost her life in exchange for it.
With that oath sworn in her heart anew, Fagrahvél held out her hand in front of her and clenched it tightly into a fist.
“Such fearsome foes... Why didn’t you wake me up sooner?!”
That reproachful shout was the first and immediate reaction Fagrahvél had once Bára had finished explaining the state of their troops, and the events that had taken place while Fagrahvél was unconscious.
She had previously heard rumors of warriors within the Steel Clan that fought from on horseback, and that their army had a unit made up entirely of those mounted fighters, but she could not suppress a frightful shudder at actually hearing about the results of facing them in battle.
And while such a difficult foe had been attacking, the commander of the army had been asleep. It was an inexcusable dereliction of duty.
She felt so guilty towards her sworn children, and their sworn children, all of whom had entrusted their lives to her.
“Oh, it’s fiiine. After all, even if you had been awaaake, there would have been nothing really for you to dooo.”
“Ngh.” Fagrahvél was not amused by such a blunt remark from Bára and let slip a sullen grunt.
As always, Fagrahvél’s sworn daughter was far too unrestrained and familiar in the way she spoke to her sworn parent.
Bára was Fagrahvél’s childhood friend. They had grown up together, even studying together at the same desk at a school in the imperial capital, Glaðsheimr.
Even after swearing the Oath of the Chalice as parent and child, that relationship hadn’t really changed.
Of course, Fagrahvél was actually quite happy that Bára had remained this way, treating Fagrahvél as she always had.
For a clan patriarch, a figure of absolute authority, having someone like Bára around who didn’t mince words was essential for being able to properly reflect on one’s actions, but people like her were rare.
“Hmph, w-well, from what you describe, it might be true that my rune would have been a bit of a poor match against foes like that.” Begrudgingly, Fagrahvél conceded Bára’s point.
Honestly, upon hearing the description of these riders luring soldiers to chase them as they fled, then turning around to shoot backwards at them, it had sent a chill down Fagrahvél’s spine.
Against opponents like that, no matter how much one magically enhanced the morale of the troops, it wouldn’t have mattered one bit. No, in fact, it would only have pushed them to chase the riders further, leading to even greater casualties.
As if she’d picked up on Fagrahvél’s feelings, Bára offered another gentle smile.
“A ‘bit’ of a poor match?” she said, without mercy.
“Oh, be quiet already!” Fagrahvél yelled.
Fagrahvél was normally a very rational and controlled person, who rarely if ever yelled, even at subordinates. But she let her guard down around this one person, her trusted childhood friend.
“If I couldn’t be of use to everyone before, then I’ll just make up for that starting now!” Fagrahvél shouted confidently.
Fagrahvél and Bára had been rivals since they were children, competing over grades and the like. Maybe because talking like this with Bára brought back memories of that time, it also brought out the competitive streak in Fagrahvél from back then, too.
“Tee hee, oh, I’m looking forward to thaaat. Sooo, how is your body feeliiing?”
“Hm? Well, it still feels a little heavy, so I can’t exactly say I’m back on form, but I’m already much better than I was before. I shouldn’t have any problems taking command.”
“Okaaay, then you still need to take it easy and reeest. I’ll fill in for yooou.”
“No, that’s not going to work. If the commander of the army is constantly stuck in bed, the troops aren’t going to...”
Before Fagrahvél could finish that line of argument, Bára’s finger gently pressed against her lips.
“You really are too serious for your own goood. Weeell, I know that’s one of the qualities that draws people to you, but just this once, I want you to compromise on that just a little bit for me, okaaay?”
“Nggh...”
“The most important job for the commander of the army is to win the waaar. There’s nothing more important than thaaat.”
The commander of the army was someone who had a great number of lives entrusted to their care.
And so, their job was to claim victory by any method necessary. The loftiest goals and most honorable character amounted to nothing in the event of defeat.
Fagrahvél understood that on a rational level.
“Yes, you’re right.”
“And in order to do thaaat, your highest priority is to reeest, so that you are back in good health before the Steel Clan arriiives. That power of yours is our greatest weapon, riiight? It’s fine if we end up not having to use iiit. But this is Suoh-Yuuto we’re facing, riiight?”
“...All right.”
After a few more moments of hesitation, at last Fagrahvél nodded, her brow furrowed, and a look of consternation washed over her face.
Honestly, she couldn’t say she’d fully accepted it on an emotional level, but just as Bára had said, their opponent was who he was. And there was the oath she’d sworn anew to herself. It was true that facing him fully prepared and at full strength was the right thing to do.
“Tee hee hee, weeell, you can just leave it to me to prepare the stage for youuu. Before the Steel Clan army arrives, we’ll capture Víðríðr even without youuu.”
Four days after departing from Dauwe Castle, the Anti-Steel Clan Alliance Army reached the Ash Clan capital Víðríðr and steadily began surrounding it.
Everything was unfolding right on schedule.
Starting from the second day onward, the sudden assaults from the enemy cavalry unit had died down. After they’d started running into a perfectly-arranged ambush every time they attacked, it seemed they’d learned their lesson.
According to a report from Alexis, they were currently camped in an area far to the rear, back in the direction the Anti-Steel Clan Alliance Army had come from.
The great distance they’d put between the army and themselves spoke to how wary they were of them now.
It didn’t exactly feel good to know that an enemy force was situated to the army’s rear, but for now there was no choice but to leave them be.
The enemy cavalry were, above all else, extremely fast when they needed to run away. Sending a detached unit to go after them was possible, but chances were that they would only come up empty-handed after a fruitless chase.
Besides, as soon as they moved from that spot, the Anti-Steel Clan Alliance Army would know about it.
The smartest thing to do, then, was to leave them alone unless they made a move, and then simply react with the appropriate counter.
And so, the most important order of business was to capture the city of Víðríðr.
If the Steel Clan’s main army marched all the way up here just to protect the Ash Clan, only to find that their capital had already fallen, that would certainly deliver a shocking blow to Steel Clan troop morale and worsen their exhaustion.
That drop in morale would then work very well in the Anti-Steel Clan Alliance Army’s favor during the decisive showdown. It was thus important to capture this city by any means necessary.
“Thinking nooormally, it should take around another fifteen days until the Steel Clan’s main army arriiives. Still, that patriarch of theirs is known for defying common sense, so maybe we should work off a deadline of half of that tiiime.”
Muttering to herself, Bára attempted to organize her thoughts.
“Then that meeeans... another seven or eight daaays. Hmm, the patriarch should be fully recovered by theeen. Okaaay, the only remaining question iiis... just how should we capture this cityyy?”
Staring out at the towering walls of the city in the distance, Bára mulled over the problem.
She’d made a show of telling Fagrahvél to rest easy and leave things to her, but in truth, she didn’t have a particular plan in mind for conquering the city.
She’d just assumed that once she got here and took a look at the city, some idea or another would surely come to her, and she’d staked her confident assertions on that.
Put another way, that meant that this way of thinking hadn’t caused problems for her before, because in most situations, she did come up with some idea that worked.
This time was no exception.
She suddenly clapped her hands together.
“Now that I think about iiit, there are some people perfect for thiiis. We might as well wipe them all out at ooonce.”
“Father! The Anti-Steel Clan Alliance Army has broken up their formation encircling Víðríðr, and they’re headed back towards Dauwe!”
“What?! What are they doing?!”
Hveðrungr responded with shock and suspicion to his scout’s report.
His clothes were torn in several places, most likely by bladed weapons, and beneath those tears one could spot bandages that, presumably, were stained with blood.
Thanks to Hveðrungr’s extraordinary skills of perception and the Independent Cavalry Regiment’s ability to direct its attack power effectively in a mounted charge, they had now broken free of enemy forces that completely encircled them no less than three times. However, they hadn’t done so unscathed.
The three thousand elite mounted warriors were already reduced to two thousand, and though Hveðrungr himself did not have wounds that put his life at risk, he was in no shape to fight with his usual strength.
“I don’t got a clue, sir... Maybe they decided they couldn’t capture Víðríðr, and gave up on it?”
“No, that’s not possible. The army that captured Dauwe Castle in a day isn’t going to shrink back from the challenge of conquering Víðríðr.”
“Huh... Then, maybe something major happened back in their homeland?”
“Hm.” Hveðrungr paused.
That wasn’t completely out of the question.
Hveðrungr himself had heard of an instance where a clan’s invading army had been fighting well, one step away from total conquest over their foes, only to stop and head back to their own borders upon receiving the news that their patriarch had suddenly passed away.
Could it perhaps be that good fortune had visited that sort of rare emergency upon his enemies now?
That seemed far too optimistic a way to look at it.
“Continue to monitor them carefully. And stay vigilant. If you notice any changes, let me know right away.”
“Yessir.”
“All right, what are they planning this time?”
Hveðrungr muttered to himself as he looked up into the sky.
From what he’d seen so far, he knew that this foe preferred using wily strategy.
He still had no concrete idea what their newest scheme was, but he was practically certain that the enemy troop movements now were a part of it.
The next change occurred the following day.
“The enemy’s split their forces in two! It looks like one half of them’s going to try to circle around behind us.”
“I see now. So when they first headed toward Dauwe, that was to keep us from realizing they were going to do this.”
If the enemy came after the Regiment head-on, all the Regiment had to do was flee.
The enemy would be fully aware of that as well.
So, they’d initially set out on a route towards Dauwe Castle as a feint so they could move behind the position of the Regiment’s camp, and now they were splitting into two groups so that they could also cut off any escape route.
“Tch!” Hveðrungr clicked his tongue bitterly in frustration. “And it confirms they still have access to knowledge of our exact position.”
In other words, even at this very moment, they were somehow watching Hveðrungr and his men from somewhere.
It was discomforting enough to know that, but even worse, Hveðrungr was frustrated with himself over the fact that he couldn’t discern where they were watching from.
“At this rate, we’re constantly reacting one step behind them. If only we could find some sort of clue as to how to counter them effectively...”
“All squads, are you in your positions? Then begin the attack!”
“Yeaaaaahhhh!”
As Fagrahvél gave the command and gestured with one hand, a chorus of exuberant war cries rose up and filled the air, and the soldiers took off running, the ground rumbling beneath them.
After watching them go, Fagrahvél let out a long breath and sat down in a chair.
“Good jooob. Sorry about thiiis. If I was the only one giving the orders, the Sword Clan soldiers might be fiiine, but the ones from other clans might start complaaaining.”
As she said this, Bára offered Fagrahvél a cup of hot milk.
Assumedly, the meaning behind it was, Okay, you’ve done what you needed to, now drink this and get back to bed! ...or something to that effect.
Fagrahvél couldn’t help feeling that Bára was increasingly overprotective lately.
Perhaps she’d grown worried about the added strain caused by using the power of Gjallarhorn on an army of thirty thousand.
“No, it’s no trouble for me at all,” Fagrahvél replied. “Actually, being able to do some amount of work is better at helping me relax.”
It wasn’t a remark made to justify forcing herself—it was how Fagrahvél sincerely felt.
When doing nothing except lying still in bed, she ended up unable to calm down, and thus unable to get good rest.
This was the kind of thing that made Bára and the other child subordinates always chide her with remarks like, “You’re far too serious!”
“So, do you think it will work?”
“Weeell, we did everything we cooould. All that’s left is to see how it turns ooout.”
“My lord! The enemy is fleeing!”
A messenger quickly arrived with a report.
“Hm, just as you said they would.”
“It seems sooo. Though, seeing as they’re running away without even trying to turn around and shoot at uuus, it shows just how cautious they are of us nooow.”
They’d fallen into one trap after another and suffered for it.
They knew their movements were also an open book the whole time.
In a situation like that, they’d surely figured the last thing they wanted was to attack again and fall into yet another painful trap that weakened them further. It was a perfectly natural reaction.
“Then we’ll keep things on schedule. All troops, continue the advance!”
“It’s no good. Father! That route’s been blockaded by enemy soldiers!”
“Father! This one’s cut off too!”
“Heh, I can’t even bother to be surprised at this point...” Hveðrungr said, looking up at the sky with a grin, as if he found his own situation comical.
The Ash Clan was a nation in the ravine-filled mountain highlands.
Naturally, that meant there were a finite number of routes through which one could lead a formation of two thousand soldiers. With the abundant manpower of the Anti-Steel Clan Alliance Army, sealing all of them would be no difficult task.
At least, that would be true if this wasn’t enemy territory for them.
“What a truly uncanny foe. So, they somehow have a thorough understanding of the entire geography of a foreign nation.”
Hveðrungr would perhaps not have found that incredulous if, for example, this invasion had been carefully planned over a span of ten or more years, but the reality was that not even a month had passed since the issuing of the empire’s subjugation order against the Steel Clan.
And while the Cloud and Fang Clans had long warred for territory with the Ash Clan, invading anything west of Dauwe would require them to capture Dauwe Castle first, something which they hadn’t been able to do until now. It would be strange, then, for them to have obtained any detailed strategic information about the territory beyond that point.
“Well, ironically enough, thanks to this I can tell exactly what our foe is up to.”
There was exactly one route that had been left untouched—the main road leading directly to the city of Víðríðr.
The strength of a cavalry unit was foremost in its mobility.
It was precisely because of that superior mobility that, despite the overwhelming disadvantage of the enemy having full knowledge of their position and movements, the Regiment had still been able to escape one close call after another.
However, if they were driven behind the city walls of Víðríðr, they wouldn’t be able to make full use of that strength, and they’d also be left with nowhere to escape to.
The enemy must have come to the conclusion that the Regiment cavalry would then be trapped like rats, and could be wiped out along with the Víðríðr troops when the city fell.
“Still, the other routes are hardly an option.”
Assaulting the soldiers that were blocking off one of the other viable routes and trying to force a path through was technically an option, but it was likely that other Anti-Steel Clan Alliance forces would quickly reach their current position during the fight.
After all, as stated previously, the Regiment’s movements were completely visible to the enemy.
There was a very high chance that no matter which of the alternate routes Hveðrungr chose, the soldiers blockading that particular one would be heavily reinforced by the time he reached them.
And that wasn’t all... If the main force of the Anti-Steel Clan Alliance Army was able to close in behind them while his men struggled in combat, they could be trapped completely in a pincer without any way to escape.
As Hveðrungr thought more on this, he suddenly smiled and snapped his fingers.
“Heh! In that case, perhaps I’ll give them exactly what they want. That should be real fun...”
“Phew, fiiinally, that troublesome little grouuup is forced into the cage with the rest of theeem. What a relief that iiis.”
Bára watched the enemy cavalry unit entering the walls of Víðríðr with a full-faced grin, nodding to herself in satisfaction.
In truth, for Bára, taking care of the problem posed by these cavalry soldiers before the Steel Clan’s main army arrived was even more important than capturing Víðríðr.
Even with the assistance of Hárbarth’s “eyes,” those mounted warriors still presented an enormous threat thanks to their high mobility and powerful assaults.
In particular, there was the potential scenario where, while the Anti-Steel Clan Army was occupied in full-scale combat with the Steel Clan Army, the riders rushed in to attack from the rear. Even if Bára’s allies knew they were coming beforehand, there was a good chance the soldiers on the field still wouldn’t be able to react in time.
That’s why she had wanted to crush them now and eliminate any worries of a threat from behind.
“So, things have gone well so far.”
Beside her, Fagrahvél stared out at the walls of Víðríðr with a grim expression.
Her unease and agitation were plain as day.
Bára placed a hand on Fagrahvél’s shoulder. “Erna and the others will succeed,” she said. “I’m sure of it.”
Indeed, Bára’s scheme did not end here.
In fact, the crux of it was only just beginning to unfold.
In Víðríðr, the night air was filled with the crackling sound of burning wood.
As the city was in the middle of a defensive siege during a war, there were torches everywhere, such that the city was brightly lit even at night.
The city streets and the walkways atop the outer walls were patrolled by soldiers non-stop, bringing about an imposing atmosphere that made the once-lively city seem like a different place entirely.
In the midst of all that, three figures moved quietly among the shadows.
They kept hidden in the pockets of darkness, timing their movements to the moments when they would be in the blind spots of the nearby soldiers, and moving from cover to cover without making a sound.
“There really is no one like Bára when it comes to thinking up sneaky little operations like this.” Once she’d entered into an alleyway and confirmed that no soldiers were nearby, one of those figures, Erna, whispered this to no one in particular.
She was cloaked in an outfit that was very different from usual, made with deerskins and ornamented with bird feathers.
It was one of several she’d “borrowed” off of the enemy cavalry she’d defeated over the course of several battles with them.
With it, she’d been able to slip in amongst the cavalry soldiers who were making their way towards the city, allowing her to enter Víðríðr, where she had silently bided her time, until now.
“Are you sure you want to say something like thaaat? I could always tell on yooou.”
“Wha—Hrönn, whose side are you on exactly?!”
“With all due respect, Erna, Bára is way scarier than you are,” Hrönn quipped bluntly and without a second’s pause.
Her hair was tied in two bunches to the left and right, and her face still retained small hints of childishness in its features, but she was an Einherjar and a full-fledged member of the Maidens of the Waves.
A third voice, low and chilly, cut in. “Both of you, no unnecessary conversation. We’re in the middle of a sneaking mission.”
Erna and Hrönn both hurriedly covered their mouths and nodded several times.
The owner of that cold voice stepped forward out of the darkness, revealing herself to the other two. She was an older woman in the prime of her beauty, with long, silver hair down to her waist that made a strong visual impression.
However, in contrast to the allure of her slender, gorgeous figure, the reaction of the other two women to her made it clear that she was frightening to them.
And it was only natural that she would be, for she was the fierce leader of the Maidens of the Waves, and the one who had taught the art of combat to Erna and Hrönn. She was Thír, the Icy Beauty.
She had previously been assigned to act as guard and escort for the þjóðann Sigrdrífa, showing just how much Fagrahvél trusted in her skill.
Incidentally, she was the oldest member of the Maidens of the Waves by a longshot, at least forty years old, but anyone would tell you she looked very much like she was still in her mid-twenties.
After a moment, she let out a sigh. “I wonder if you two may have been the wrong choice for this mission,” she said, staring at both of them intently.
Right now the three of them were conducting a top-secret mission given to them by Bára.
Their objective was to open the city gate, allowing their allies to enter.
It would be too difficult to plant more than a small number of saboteurs among the soldiers entering the city, so Thír’s two juniors had been singled out for the mission by virtue of their combat abilities, which were top class even compared to the other members of the Maidens of the Waves. However, they were both clearly unsuited to stealth operations.
“Well, complaining now won’t change anything. Both of you, let’s go.”
“Right.” Erna and Hrönn responded in unison.
“At least you both know how to give a prompt response,” Thír said, shrugging her shoulders and shaking her head.
The next moment, she had vanished from sight without making a sound.
She had suppressed her presence and blended in with the darkness.
“She’s as incredible as ever. I can’t tell where she is at all,” Hrönn said, glancing all around her.
“Stop lazing about. Do you want me to leave you behind?”
“C-Coming!”
Hrönn shuddered at the voice coming from out of seemingly nowhere and moved into action.
Even with the enhanced sensory perception of an Einherjar, she couldn’t sense Thír’s presence at all.
Erna and Hrönn were strong and full of youthful passion, but this was the skill of a master, something they couldn’t yet attain for themselves.
“...Hm, just as I thought. It’s relatively unguarded.”
Upon reaching the area in front of the main city gate, Thír stopped and calmly scanned her surroundings.
There looked to be only a few people standing close to the gate; five that she could see.
Meanwhile, high up on top of the wall, she could make out the silhouettes of a far larger number of people.
As she calmly continued to focus on the people above, she was able to discern that they were all facing the same way—outwards, towards the direction of the invading Anti-Steel Clan Alliance Army. They weren’t directing any of their attention inside the walls.
Of course, that particular decision was the natural one to make. After all, an enemy attack would normally be coming from outside.
Keeping a squad of soldiers at the ready in the area in front of the gate even when there wasn’t any recorded enemy movement would just wear them down, and eventually, they’d be too fatigued to be useful when the time finally came for them to fight.
One of the core principles of siege defense was to make sure soldiers were given adequate rest when the situation permitted it.
Bára’s plan was to take advantage of that and use it against them.
“All right, we’re beginning the operation. Let’s go.”
Leaving those quiet words behind, Thír’s figure once again melted into the darkness.
And, mere seconds later...
“I seriously can’t catch a break here. I mean, I’m supposed to be getting married next month, you know? I wonder if we’re even going to be able to have the ceremony with all this going on.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Huh? Who’s—gakh?!”
Before the gate lookout could even turn around to locate the source of Thír’s words, she had slit his throat with her dagger.
“Wh-Who goes... gaugh...!”
The soldier that the now-dead man had been speaking with, standing right across from him, reacted immediately, trying to draw his sword. But before he could complete the motion, he froze and grunted his last, a blade with a dull, silvery sheen now planted firmly in his chest.
It was an iron sword, another piece of equipment that Erna had seized from one of the cavalry.
“Ghh, an enemy attack?! E-Everyo—”
One of the other soldiers realized what was happening and attempted to shout, but Thír got to him first.
“You’ll cause us problems if you’re too loud, so how about you just stay silent?”
Blending into the darkness, she had circled around behind him, covered his mouth with one hand, and then slit his throat using the other.
“Aaaaugh, wh-what are these people?!”
“Th-They’re way too strong!”
The faces of the remaining two lookouts were stretched taut with sheer terror. They both hurriedly began to flee.
“Deserting in the face of the enemy? Just pathetic.”
Erna darted forward, catching up to them in the blink of an eye, and the two of them both fell to her blade unceremoniously.
From beginning to end, Erna’s well-choreographed one-woman act of slaughter had played out in fewer than ten seconds.
“Wh... why couldn’t you leave anything for me to do?” Hrönn whined.
“You really think we had the time to spare for that?” Erna scolded back. “If they managed to call for backup, we’d be finished before we could even get started.”
“As it happens, the backup is here anyway, though.”
Out of nowhere, the man’s voice cut into their exchange like a knife, and they spun around, wide-eyed with shock.
The man standing there was someone Erna knew well. A strange man with his face hidden behind a dark mask.
“Hveðrungr...!”
“I’m so honored to find out the brave hero of the Sword Clan knows my name. Ah, did you learn it from Gerhard, perhaps?”
He addressed them in a smooth, very friendly tone.
That just made him all the more unsettling.
If she were being completely frank about it, there was something she sensed from him that was just like Bára.
As it turned out, that instinct was right on the mark.
“I owe you all so much for everything that’s happened over the past several days. And I’d love nothing more than to pay you back.”
Hveðrungr raised his right hand, and with that signal, a large number of soldiers began quietly filing out from the shadows.
There were at least a hundred of them!
“There were this many people hiding nearby and I couldn’t sense them... I was careless.” Thír seemed absolutely vexed by her failure.
“Heh heh... Well, the men of Miðgarðr make their livelihoods hunting wild game on the wide-open steppes,” Hveðrungr responded. He sounded as if he was enjoying himself quite a bit. “Concealing one’s presence is one of many skills they make their own. And the ones you see here are the best of the best even among their number. Why, it’s no wonder you couldn’t detect them.”
“Tch! Erna, Hrönn, withdraw for now!” Thír shouted the order, and the three Einherjar all took off running.
The enemy had been fully hidden until just moments ago, concealing their presences. Because of that, they hadn’t been able to completely encircle Thír’s group yet. Small openings still remained.
The three of them swiftly and deftly wove their way through those openings, escaping the net.
“Don’t think I’ll let you get away! Men, after them!”
At Hveðrungr’s command, his soldiers all quickly gave chase.
Even though they weren’t mounted on horseback, all of them possessed impressive leg strength, and they gave chase at high speed.
Thír and Hrönn were both Einherjar, but they did not have the superhuman leg strength that Erna had.
They couldn’t completely break free of their pursuers, and as they ran further and further, their lack of familiarity with the city’s layout was their undoing.
“Ah! A dead end?!”
One of the roads they turned down led right up to a solid wall.
The way they came was already packed with soldiers blocking their path, so backtracking to the last intersection wasn’t an option.
“Are we done playing our little game of tag now?”
The masked man wove his way through the soldiers blocking the three Einherjar in and stepped out in front of them.
“Yes... it seems we are.”
Thír answered slowly, working to re-steady her breathing and replenish a bit of stamina.
Strive at all times to place yourself in the best, most prepared condition possible.
That was the warrior’s creed that Thír followed, and that she had taught to Erna and her other students.
“I am... impressed that you realized our plan. You knew we’d hidden ourselves among you and snuck into the city, and that we’d try to open the gate.”
“Heh heh, it’s because I’ve learned that the person commanding your armies has quite the taste for cunning strategy and tricks. I realized that simply gathering us here with everyone else in Víðríðr was too simple—it lacked any elegant twist. And that is when it hit me. You see, I once used this same plan myself at Gashina.”
“I see.”
And so, Hveðrungr had used that knowledge to set up an ambush, an act of revenge that deliberately mirrored what he’d suffered so far.
He had a real twisted personality to him.
“Oh, by the way, if you ever get the chance, I’d like you to pass along a message to that person for me. Tell them that there’s an amusing saying from a faraway country that goes: ‘The clever schemer falls prey to his own snare.’ Well, that’s assuming you do ever get the chance, of course.”
“...I’ll remember it, just in case.”
“Now, then, I think we’ve had enough banter. I don’t suppose you’d feel like giving yourselves up? I’m sure that restraining you three will be a real struggle for me, and I certainly don’t want to lose good men in the process. That would just be stupid. I can promise you that if you surrender now, you will be treated quite graciously. What do you think?”
Hveðrungr spread his arms out wide and practically whispered those final words with a cheerful smile.
His affected kindness just made him even more off-putting.
If he was aiming for that effect on purpose, then he really did have a twisted personality. Thír got the impression more and more that this man would probably enjoy conversing with Bára.
“However, if you should choose to fight back... In that case, oh, I do hope you’re prepared for pain. After all, there’s so many secrets we need to get out of you... for instance, just how you were able to track the position and movements of me and my men.”
The masked man showed his true colors at last, his lips curling up into a sneer. He was little more than a masked demon now.
“So, that is what you’re after.”
Knowing that the enemy was infiltrating the city, and allowing them to do so anyway, was making a fairly serious and risky wager. In other words, he must have considered it worth taking on that risk in order to unravel the mystery that frustrated him.
And, in fact, he was largely right in his judgment.
Without doing something to mitigate the advantage of that “power,” the Steel Clan surely had no chance of victory.
This man was intellectually sharp, forward-thinking, brave, strong in a fight, and bold to boot.
Even as his enemy, Thír found him impressive.
However, she also knew that when it came to truly sharp and cunning intellect, there was a demon even more fearsome than he.
“Heh heh, I apologize for interrupting you while you’re busy congratulating yourself, but are you really sure it’s all right for you to be here right now?”
“What?” Hveðrungr glared at her with suspicion.
That was when it happened.
The loud, metallic clanging of brass war gongs resounded through the air.
“No... it can’t be...”
It seemed this man really was a sharp one.
In a matter of seconds, he’d already started to grasp what was happening right now.
Seeing that, Thír decided she would speak and prove his assumption correct.
“Yes, that’s right. We three were a diversion. Our orders were to try to open the gate ourselves if we could, and if we failed, to draw enemy forces away from the gate, allowing someone else to open it.”
“Grrgh...”
The masked man bit his lower lip in what seemed like painful frustration.
Seeing this sort of expression on a man who had been filled with absolute confidence in his own power was quite the treat.
And so, Thír decided to twist the knife a little further for her own enjoyment.
“The very moment you discovered us and became sure you’d read everything we were planning, that you’d outdone us and won... that was exactly when you lost to us. Oh, that’s right. Recently, I learned a handy phrase from someone to describe just such a situation. What was it...? Oh, ‘The clever schemer falls prey to his own snare.’ I think that was how it goes?”
It was an intense bit of mockery.
This sadistic streak of Thír’s was why Erna and Hrönn were so deeply afraid of her.
It was because she knew how to say things that cut right into a person’s heart.
“Khh...! Kill them! Kill them to the last, and make sure they suffer!”
Hveðrungr screamed in fury, once again showing his true self.
Thír had been enjoying herself plenty tormenting him, but now she considered that maybe she’d gone a bit too far.
The aura of pure wickedness billowing off of him was actually rather incredible.
This was indeed the man who had previously built up a clan of nomads into a powerful nation that controlled the lands from western Miðgarðr all the way to western Álfheimr.
His presence was intimidating enough that even a veteran like Thír winced.
It looked like Erna was holding herself together as well, but the younger, less experienced Hrönn was overwhelmed by the pressure and looked utterly terrified.
They’d already accomplished their role. It should be fine to use their trump card now.
“Erna!”
“Ah... Right!”
As soon as Thír called out her name, Erna threw one arm around Thír’s waist, and the other around Hrönn’s...
And she took off into the air.
Of course, Erna was no bird. She didn’t have the ability to fly.
However, “taking off” was the only way the onlookers could have described it, for that was exactly what it looked like when she leapt into the air using the superhuman leg strength afforded to her by her rune.
“Wha?!”
Even Hveðrungr was completely taken aback by the sight.
And it was only natural that he would be.
Jumping from the street all the way up to the roof of a building while also carrying two people was an astounding feat, something that a human being shouldn’t be able to do.
Even in the wide world of Yggdrasil, likely the only two people who could ever accomplish such a thing were Erna and the late Steinþórr, the Battle-Hungry Tiger.
Even with that masked man’s talent for strategy, he would never have been able to predict such an escape method.
The reason Thír’s group had boldly gone ahead with this infiltration plan was precisely because they knew that they had this method to use in an emergency.
“Well, see you again sometime, Mister Masked Man.”
Thír waved, then ran across the roof of the building and jumped down to street level on the other side.
Naturally, no one managed to catch up with her after that.
The sounds of bronze war gongs echoed in the distance.
“That’s the signaaal. It looks like everyone who snuck in managed to do their parts just fiiine.”
Speaking in an exuberant voice, Bára turned around to look at Fagrahvél, who responded with a single nod.
“Another successful mission for the Maidens of the Waves. Now then, attention, all troops!” Fagrahvél stood up from her chair, unsheathed her sword, and pointed it at Víðríðr.
“Advance on Víðríðr! Chaaarge!”
Fagrahvél’s beautiful features and noble appearance, which had earned her the alias Lord of Beauty, were coupled with her glittering golden armor, and as she brandished her sword and gave the command, it was a picturesque sight indeed.
This was the sort of atmosphere and image that inspired reverence from her soldiers.
“Yeeeaaaahhhh!”
The Anti-Steel Clan Alliance Army troops erupted in jubilant war cries and rushed towards Víðríðr, where combat soon broke out with the soldiers defending the city.
The sounds of field commands being barked out and the clanging of metal weapons reverberated loudly, reaching all the way to the commander’s formation further back in the middle of the army.
“Hmm, it looks like they’re putting up quite a fiiight.”
Bára had been assuming that once the gates were opened, the city would fall easily, so this was a little bit unexpected for her.
Those cavalry were terribly strong and skilled.
Perhaps they were delaying things by putting up an especially hard fight.
But in the end, that shouldn’t last long.
Humans suffered fatigue like any other living creature, and they certainly had their limits.
The defending side had no choice but to fight continuously without rest, while the attacking side could switch out their attacking soldiers in alternating waves.
It was clear as day which one of them held the upper hand here.
The ebb and flow of the fighting continued through the night, until eventually the sun rose.
This was most likely around the point where the defending soldiers should reach the limits of their strength, especially after fighting ceaselessly through the night.
It was only a matter of time now before Víðríðr’s defenses would fall, and the city would be theirs.
Both Fagrahvél and Bára were completely convinced of that.
And, that was when it happened.
“Th-This is an emergency!”
The imperial priest Alexis made his way through the commander’s formation, practically sprinting, shouting in a shrill voice.
This was someone who was always composed and sure of himself, in a way that made it difficult to grasp his motives. It was the first time Bára or Fagrahvél had ever seen him acting like this.
Just what had happened?
“The main army of the Steel Clan is... it’s already almost here!”
“Wh... Wha... What...?!”
“H-Huuuuh?!”
Faced with what should be an outright impossible situation, both Fagrahvél and Bára were lost for words.
Back when the Anti-Steel Clan Alliance Army first made its declaration of war against the Steel Clan and began the invasion, Hárbarth had confirmed through the use of his powers that the main bulk of the Steel Clan Army was down in Lightning Clan territory, around the Gashina area.
It should have taken them at least another fifteen days to travel the distance from there to here. Fagrahvél shuddered, and whispered aloud, “Just what have you done, War God?! What sort of magic did you use?!”
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