ACT 3
Two days had passed since Bára and Fagrahvél had arrived at Dauwe Castle.
The day after their arrival, Bára had been so exhausted that she had slept like a rock through the entire day.
It was a day later when the surviving members of the Alliance Army that had escaped the Steel Clan’s pursuit began to gather at Dauwe.
“Weeell, your reputation for godly speed is well deserrrved, Sir Hermóðr.”
Bára welcomed in the newly arrived members of the Spear Clan army with praise.
Despite the intense pursuit by the forces of the Steel Clan, the Spear Clan had managed to get over five thousand of its soldiers back to Dauwe Castle.
While Bára’s Sword Clan and the Spear Clan were potential enemies within the empire, given their current predicament, it was a reassuring sight.
“It’s not only my doing. Father’s guidance was invaluable. But pay that no mind, just how many soldiers do we have here?”
Hermóðr, the one responsible for that feat, didn’t seem particularly impressed, and responded with a question of his own, his features stony.
Bára didn’t mind his brusque manner. There was a certain warrior-like efficiency to it. She didn’t particularly like the fact that he credited his success to the man Bára hated most in the world, though.
After a brief pause, Bára answered truthfully.
“...Cooounting your forces, we maaay or maaay not reach ten thousand totaaaal.”
She had come to the conclusion that any bluffing here would do more harm than good.
“Ah, is that it? Heh...” Hermóðr snorted with a note of self-deprecation.
No doubt he had compared the current state of the army when they had first come to Dauwe Castle. They had started with over thirty thousand, but now they were down to less than a third of that number.
All glory in the world was fleeting, but facing that reality headlong, the only thing he could manage was a dry laugh.
“In terrrms of numbers we’re roughly equal to the Steel Claaaan, sooo if we focus on defending, we would have a chaaance against them, if they were a normal opponeeent.” Bára then shrugged her shoulders.
Yes, ordinarily, if they holed up behind the castle walls, they could hold out against a force of five or even ten times their size. They could laugh aside the threat posed by an army of the same size.
“Yes, you’re right. Frankly, against the ‘Black One,’ I’d have to say the odds are against us.”
Hermóðr was quite blunt in his response. He agreed that things weren’t looking too good.
“Aaas I thought.”
“From what Father tells me, the Steel Clan has ridiculous weapons capable of hurtling boulders long distances. Boulders so large that it would take several large men to move them. Dauwe’s defenses would be meaningless against such weapons.”
“Waaaait, they have whaaaat?!”
Even with that description, she couldn’t possibly imagine what they would look like. Just how could they manage such a thing? Even marshaling all of her knowledge and intelligence, not a single hint stood out to Bára. She once again felt the weight of just how absurd their opponent was.
“Well, we do have some time. Evidently they’re quite large and take several days to prepare.”
“I seeee. So we need to come up with a soluuuution by that point, yesss?”
She’d been foiled by Hermóðr’s father’s—Hárbarth’s—information gathering ability countless times in the past, but just this once, she was thankful for it. While the knowledge increased her sense of foreboding, it also made it possible to come up with countermeasures.
“Still, what shaaall we do...”
Bára sighed, likely nearing her wit’s end.
It was true that the current army gathered at Dauwe Castle was roughly equal to the Steel Clan in size, and by the next day, they could very well have more. But against the powerful troops of the Steel Clan, parity in numbers wouldn’t be enough.
Worse, the enemy had the momentum, having won a spectacular victory in their last battle, while the force currently residing within Dauwe Castle was little more than a collection of survivors from a defeated army. The gap in morale was enormous.
And Fagrahvél, who had the power to overcome that difference with her rune Gjallarhorn, had yet to even regain consciousness.
The answer Bára had reached given her predicament was...
The next day.
The Steel Clan army had started to gather in front of Dauwe Castle. Bára estimated that they had a bit under twenty thousand soldiers.
Even accounting for the fact that they had added the forces that had been defending the Ash Clan capital Vígríðr, it was a far larger army than the one they’d faced before. That must mean they’d also incorporated the Alliance Army soldiers they captured in their pursuit of the retreating forces.
While she would have gladly screamed curses at those who switched sides to save their own hides, Bára was also well aware that people were predisposed to jump on the winning side’s bandwagon.
“Weeell now, this is eeeven worse than expected.”
There were only about a thousand soldiers left at Dauwe Castle. The rest had already escaped. Of course, her beloved master Fagrahvél was among the escapees.
“Hehe, still, it’s a perrrrrfect place for a valiant last staand. A once in a lifetime opporrrtunity. Time to go out in a blaaaze of glooory.”
Bára smiled, as though she were relishing the moment.
Her expression had the ferocity of one who had thoroughly prepared themselves for death.
“It really is impressive to look at in the flesh.”
Yuuto let out a sigh of admiration at the walls of Dauwe Castle looming above.
Dauwe Castle was originally built to deal with incursions from the east, meaning that the westward side Yuuto was facing was, comparatively, rather simply constructed. It was still an impressive piece of architecture nonetheless.
“Bringing this down by normal means would be quite the headache.”
“Then shall I arrange for the trebuchets to be brought here as quickly as possible?” Felicia asked with a knowing look.
Trebuchets were siege weapons that Yuuto had brought knowledge of from the future—they were roughly three thousand years more advanced than Yggdrasil’s existing siege weaponry.
However tough the supposedly-impregnable Dauwe Castle may be, it was still a product of its time; a wall constructed of mud brick. Trebuchets would allow it to be destroyed with ease. However, Yuuto shook his head from side to side.
“We’ll start assembling them, but if possible, I’d prefer not to use them here.”
“Why is that?” Felicia asked, looking somewhat confused.
“According to our scouts’ reports, there were nearly ten thousand soldiers here. There’s no sign of their presence whatsoever, though.”
“That is certainly true, Big Brother.”
Felicia turned to look at Dauwe Castle as though confirming his observation and nodded.
If there were ten thousand soldiers in the castle, there should be murmurs and other noises coming from inside with the arrival of an enemy army. It certainly didn’t seem like they were staying quiet to draw the Steel Clan off guard either.
The Alliance Army was a makeshift army made up of several clans. Further, they had just suffered a massive defeat. Their chain of command had to be in disarray. It was difficult to imagine that they could manage that level of discipline among their ranks right now.
Which meant—
“This castle is probably mostly empty, save for a token force to cover the retreat. Meaning, Fagrahvél is probably already gone as well,” Yuuto observed with a bored snort, resting his chin in his hand.
His honest appraisal was that they were in a bit of a bothersome situation.
“If we spend our time messing around with trebuchets, they’ll probably get away. I wanted to capture at least Fagrahvél before that happened.”
Even as they spoke, Fagrahvél was moving further away from them—toward the Sword Clan’s territory. He would have liked to have gone after her as quickly as possible, but no matter how thinly guarded it may be, they couldn’t move forward without dealing with this fortification first.
It was irritating, and his restlessness mounted.
“My apologies, Father. This is all due to my failure...” Sigrún, looking thoroughly dispirited and glancing to the ground, apologized.
“Huh? No, I wasn’t trying to blame you...”
“But! If I hadn’t been fooled, this wouldn’t have...” She frowned, still glaring at the ground with a look of great frustration painted across her face.
No doubt the fact that she had been fooled by Fagrahvél’s body-double and therefore had let the real Fagrahvél slip through her grasp was still bothering her.
He couldn’t very well say it to her face, and the observation would have been out of place, but Yuuto couldn’t help but imagine a sulking dog with her tail drooping after she had done something wrong.
It was an image that was far from her usual poise, and he couldn’t help but find her reaction adorable.
“It’s not your fault. No one knew what Fagrahvél looked like,” Yuuto said, then lightly patted Sigrún’s head.
He meant the words sincerely, not simply as a balm to soothe her. It’d be quite a feat to tell the difference between a body-double and the real individual when one had never seen the person before. It seemed that she herself couldn’t accept that fact, though...
“But, Father, you were able to tell with a glance! I felt there was something wrong myself, but I thought it was due to fatigue and...”
Her rune, Hati, the Devourer of the Moon, gifted the bearer with a sharp sense of intuition. She evidently couldn’t forgive herself for ignoring that insight.
“You’re only human, you’ll make mistakes.”
“I understand that. But to do so at such a vital juncture!”
It was certainly eating at her. Sigrún bit down on her lower lip in frustration.
The fact that she was always hard on herself was a virtue and was one of the things that had kept her continually motivated to improve, but it could also hold her back in situations like this one.
Not being able to do something didn’t ordinarily upset her to this extent. It was because she failed at something she could do under any other circumstance that she felt this level of embarrassment.
“Sheesh.” Yuuto couldn’t help but let out a dry chuckle as he ruffled her hair.
It wasn’t as though Yuuto didn’t know the feeling. He himself felt that way when he lost Fárbauti, his predecessor as patriarch of the Wolf Clan. That feeling of not being able to forgive himself.
It was still hard for him to think back on the days where it felt like he was struggling at the bottom of a piercingly cold lakebed, stuck in the gloom, and not able to find a way out.
While probably not as bad as his own depression, he still didn’t enjoy watching one of his beloved daughters suffer like this. To be a parent was to want to do something for your child...
“That is why I’d like to deal with this castle by the end of the day. Any ideas, Brother?”
“You make it sound so easy.” Hveðrungr let out a snort of exasperation, twisting his head to glance up at the looming fortress wall.
Even Hveðrungr couldn’t help but feel a bit of vertigo at the height of the walls. They were some of the tallest walls he’d ever seen. To take down such a fortress in a single day seemed like an impossible task.
“If anything, that sort of feat is your specialty, isn’t it?”
With that Hveðrungr turned a cold eye to Yuuto.
Iron smelting. Training soldiers to fight on horseback. Throwing large boulders. All of these things were impossible in this world.
It had always been the knowledge of the young man in front of him that had made the impossible possible.
“Mm, well... We didn’t bring any trebuchets, we’re down to our last two tetsuhaus, and we’re running short on arrows. Everything’s turning up empty.”
As though to say he was out of options, Yuuto turned his palms up at the sky and shrugged his shoulders.
In a way, it was perfectly natural. The main Steel Clan army had just completed a rapid march from the old Lightning Clan territory of Gashina, all the way to the Ash Clan capital, Vígríðr, in just ten days. Right after doing so, they’d had a massive clash with an army whose forces numbered twice their own. It would have been odder if they were still well-supplied.
“In that sense, you’re better at making do with what you’ve got, right, Brother? You’ve beaten the Wagon Walls several times, and your advice was vital when we brought down Fort Gashina.”
“I appreciate your praise, but even Alþiófr can’t pull off tricks without adequate preparation.” Hveðrungr shrugged his shoulders and let out a dry laugh.
Certainly, from an outside perspective, Hveðrungr had used unexpected tactics to catch the enemy off guard. But that was only when seen from the perspective of others. Hveðrungr himself had his own calculations and planning that had gone into each of those tricks. He wasn’t some sort of magician, after all.
“Mm? Oh, I got it! Preparation! I might have something after all. Anyway, I need to get on it. Thanks, Big Brother.” Evidently having thought of something, Yuuto enthusiastically wandered off.
“Oh! Big Brother! Wait for me!”
Felicia, who had been glaring daggers at Hveðrungr, hurriedly took off after him.
Hveðrungr found himself standing alone by the wall. He snorted as though in self-mockery and muttered, “Besides, you’re the big brother now, aren’t you?”
“It’s finally past noon...”
Bára let out a sigh as she glanced up from a turret upon the ramparts. Time seemed to drag onward.
She had sent Fagrahvél out on a horse with the riding equipment she’d taken from the Steel Clan, but it was still carrying two riders. Meanwhile, the Steel Clan’s cavalry all had mounts of their own and were well trained in riding on horseback. It was still possible for them to catch up.
“If I can juuust hold on for the rest of the daaay...” Bára muttered to herself, grasping a fistful of her tunic.
Ordinarily, that wouldn’t be too difficult. Holing up inside a castle and holding out for a day was something even the worst general could manage.
But matters change when it’s the ‘Black One’ leading the opposing army. She just couldn’t shake the feeling that he would pull some completely unexpected trick and destroy all of her plans.
“L-Lady Bára! They’re coming from the escape path...”
“Oh! They’ve taken the baiiit!” Bára grinned at the news.
Castles have, since time immemorial, had escape routes for high ranking individuals such as the lords to use for escape. Dauwe Castle was no exception, but Bára had made the decision to leave that route undefended.
“Theeeen, let’s proceed as we plaaaanned.”
They knew where the enemy would be coming from. And, as an escape route, it was cramped, with perhaps enough room to let in a single person. There was no better place for an ambush.
“Now if we can just get the silver wolf, we’d be in luuuuck.”
Even if the individual in question was reputed to be the greatest warrior in Yggdrasil, they’d be alone with their hands occupied climbing a ladder. They stood no chance against an ambush by a large group.
Oh! Here they come.
What appeared from the hole following loud footsteps was—
“Ah?!”
Once they’ve made their peace with death, people can withstand just about anything.
Whether it’d be the Mánagarmr or the masked black knight, or even if it turned out to be thunder bombs that spread sound and flame, no doubt they would have stood their ground and fought on with their spears.
But those soldiers all went pale—eyes wide in fright—forgetting what they were tasked to do as their bodies tensed in fear. They were completely caught off guard and couldn’t recover their wits.
“Graaaaaaahh!”
At the deep, rumbling snarl of a beast that rang to their very core, the soldiers flinched and drew back. There were even some whose legs gave out from under them.
Having been completely focused and steeled against facing a particular opponent, their hearts couldn’t withstand the fear of the unexpected.
“A G-G-Garmr?!”
Even Bára was caught completely by surprise.
Yes, standing there was the giant wolf that made its home in the three great mountain ranges known as the Roof of Yggdrasil.
“Ah?!”
Bára then caught sight of the objects that were tossed above the head of the Garmr and toward the soldiers.
They were thunder bombs.
In here, they’d be a serious problem. They’d tip the balance of the fight completely.
She felt everything slow down, and the thunder bombs arched slowly through the air...
Boom!
The familiar concussive burst assaulted her ears.
“Gaaah!”
“Ack!”
“Ahhh!”
Then came the screams of her soldiers.
There was a silver-haired warrioress sitting atop the Garmr. Her face, while splashed with the blood of her enemies, was so beautiful that even Bára was momentarily entranced.
“I am Sigrún, daughter of the reginarch Suoh-Yuuto of the Steel Clan. Face me if you’ve already made peace with your death!” Sigrún’s lips quirked upward as she charged in on the back of the giant wolf. She drew blood with each flash of her spear. The sight of her looked like something out of myth.
“Hey, Mother Rún! Don’t go hogging all the glory!”
“That’s right. You need to leave some enemies for us.”
“Gah!”
“Gurk!”
Others emerged from the escape route, joining Sigrún and cutting down the soldiers in their path.
One was a red-haired girl with pigtails, while the other was a bearded giant of a man who resembled a bear.
They certainly looked like opposites, but their movements and blows were sharp, showing that both of them were clearly skilled warriors.
“Argh!”
“Guh!”
“Ugh!”
Each time the three of them swung their weapons, a soldier screamed out in pain.
They were strong. Overwhelmingly strong. Each fought with a fury and strength that was as impressive as any of the Maidens of the Waves.
There were only three of them, but no one could stop them. Even as they overwhelmed their opponents, more enemy soldiers emerged from the escape path, reinforcing their number.
“...Theeey completely got us this tiiime,” Bára said through clenched teeth as a single drop of sweat ran down her cheek.
She had let them into the castle and they’d now gotten a foothold. Even Bára couldn’t do much to stem the tide now. Instead of entrapping the enemy, they had caught her completely by surprise and taken the initiative.
“But come on, a Garmr is cheating, isn’t iiiiit?!”
Just how was she supposed to foresee the use of a wild beast like that? There was no way to have prepared against it.
That one moment of surprise created a lethal opening for her enemy.
“Grr, then at the very least, I’ll take the Silver Wolf with meee!” Bára took up her spear and leapt at Sigrún. If she could take her down, the Steel Clan’s morale would suffer.
Further, she was the commander of the cavalry unit. If they lost her, the unit would lose cohesion and the pursuit might falter. The blow had such hopes riding on it, but...
“Not enough!”
It was easily brushed aside by Sigrún’s blow.
“What?!”
Bára stared as her spearpoint was lopped off as though it were made of cheese. She knew that the Steel Clan, as its name implied, made use of steel. But still, this level of cutting ability was ludicrous.
“The gold circlet. You’re one of the Maidens of the Waves, aren’t you?”
The silver-haired girl glared at Bára from atop the wolf, and the blade in her hand flashed like a bolt of silver lightning. With no time to even avoid the blow, Bára felt a jolt of pain surge through her shoulder.
Fagrahvél... I pray you get to safety...!
As she lost consciousness, Bára clung to that one ray of hope.
“...Mm?”
At the sound of hoof-beats and the vibrations buffeting her body, Fagrahvél slowly opened her eyes.
Her view was faintly dark, and there was a familiar-looking mountain range hazily off in the distance.
The Þrymheimr Mountains.
“Where... am I...?”
She wasn’t fully conscious and her head was still foggy. Her sluggish thoughts recalled that she had been fighting the Steel Clan army at the Vígríðr Plains.
Yes, she had used Gjallarhorn up to her very limit, and Bára, sensing that approaching limit, had sent a charge of the eight Maidens of the Waves into the enemy, which ultimately ended in failure—
And that was all she could remember.
“Oh, my lady, you’re awake!” A familiar voice came from behind.
It was a member of her personal guard.
It was then she finally realized that, like the Steel Clan soldiers, she was riding upon a horse with his support. There was simply too much that she didn’t understand.
“Keith, explain the situation to me.”
“Yes, m’lady. We, the Anti-Steel Clan Alliance Army, were defeated at the Battle of Vígríðr. We are currently retreating back toward Sword Clan territory.”
“What of Bára?”
There was no one else traveling alongside Fagrahvél. She could easily fill in the blanks herself.
But she still needed to ask...
“Big Sister Bára said she would hold the enemy at Dauwe Castle.”
“...I see.”
Fagrahvél closed her eyes as if slowly digesting the things Keith was telling her, and eventually sighed out the words.
She had known Bára for as long as she could remember. Since she had risen to the position of patriarch of the Sword Clan, Bára had supported her as a strategist. Bára would always be at her side. Fagrahvél had somehow convinced herself that would be true.
But now she was no longer here. She might never see her again. Fagrahvél felt a sharp pain in her chest, clutching her hand to steady the pang.
The enemy wasn’t about to give Fagrahvél the opportunity to wallow in her sorrow, however...
Thunderous hoofbeats approached from behind. A glance back showed an army of mounted soldiers kicking up dust as they quickly moved in on her current position.
Dauwe Castle must have already fallen, which meant that Bára, who had been defending the castle, had...
“Dammit! We’ve come too far to be caught here!”
Keith hurriedly whipped the horse to spur it onward. Try as he might to escape, there were two of them atop their horse. The distance between them and the pursuing cavalry continued to close.
“Dammit! Run! Run! Why won’t you run?!” Keith shouted in a particularly shrill voice, waving his whip around maniacally.
“Enough. What good will it be for just me to survive?” Fagrahvél quietly noted with a tone of resignation.
“My lady, you are the parent to us, the loyal subjects of the Sword Clan! All of us—all of our country—await your safe return!”
“I would only be bringing shame to us.”
The soldiers, of course, had their own families.
As patriarch, she had set out with the responsibility for their lives on her shoulders. She couldn’t imagine why she should be allowed to survive when so many had fallen under her orders.
Even then, if she could have protected Sigrdrífa, her beloved younger sister, then she would have borne any shame, any hardship.
But she had already lost most of her soldiers, and, starting with her strategist Bára, had also lost all of her skilled generals—the Maidens of the Waves.
That victory would likely bring even more impetus to the Steel Clan. Just how was she to fight them now?
It was unavoidable. Soon the Sword Clan would be absorbed by the Steel Clan. And then, so would the empire. No matter what she did, that fate was set. It was time to accept it.
“Keith, stop the horse.”
“B-But...”
“This is an order as your mother.”
“...Yes, ma’am.”
After a brief moment of hesitation, Keith reined in the horse, his expression one of extreme regret. Shortly after, the cavalrymen surrounded them.
Looking upon the enemy, Fagrahvél addressed them, undaunted.
“I am Fagrahvél, patriarch of the Sword Clan and leader of the Alliance Army. Take me to your leader.”
Valaskjálf Palace—
The residence of the Holy Ásgarðr Empire’s þjóðann, Sigrdrífa—standing in the middle of the holy capital of Glaðsheimr.
Or rather, that was all in name only, for the actual master of the palace was no longer her.
The one who actually wielded power in the empire was the High Priest and Spear Clan patriarch Hárbarth, something that was known by all of the court officials.
He currently sat in a chair in his own room, slumped against the chair back, face gazing at the floor.
If someone else had been present, they might very well have believed that his old age had caught up with him and he had just died. He had been like this for the better part of two hours, but he then suddenly twitched, his body waking.
“Hrmph. Dauwe has fallen, and Fagrahvél is in the hands of the enemy,” Hárbarth muttered without amusement.
From the Holy Capital of Glaðsheimr, it would take at least ten days to reach Dauwe Castle by chariot. But somehow he knew what had happened within the day. That was part of his power as an Einherjar.
“Useless pawns, the lot of them.”
He let out an irate sigh.
With their patriarch, Fagrahvél, in the Steel Clan’s hands, it was best to consider the Sword Clan lost to the enemy. To have it happen so easily was unexpected.
Considering that there would be matters to deal with after the battles and the upcoming winter, that gave him some breathing room, but at the earliest, they would likely attack around next spring.
“Not nearly enough soldiers or time until then.”
In the most recent engagement, the Spear Clan had lost approximately half of the soldiers it had sent. It was an enormous number of casualties.
Further, the other members of the Alliance Army had suffered similarly. The Fang Clan had lost its patriarch and collapsed, while the Cloud Clan’s patriarch had somehow gotten out with his life, but he had now withdrawn to the plains, unlikely to come south again. The Hoof Clan and the remnants of the Panther Clan had been defeated and retreated.
Despite attacking with all the surrounding clans, they had been thoroughly repelled. That fact was indisputable.
Even if he were to have the þjóðann issue another imperial decree, there was no doubt that not a single clan would move in response to it out of fear of the Steel Clan.
“Well then, what to do...”
No Comments Yet
Post a new comment
Register or Login