ACT 8
“Uuugh...” A miserable groan escaped Yuuto’s lips.
Both Gimlé and Fólkvangr were now surrounded by the enemy.
Having received one horrible piece of news after another, Yuuto hunched over, and felt his body shuddering.
“But it does sound like Skáviðr and Sigrún managed to make it out in one piece...” Mitsuki said softly.
“That’s the one bit of good news,” Yuuto said grimly. “Even the two strongest warriors in the Wolf Clan still couldn’t stop that idiot.”
Yuuto bit his lip in frustration.
He had told himself that somehow, they could manage to hold out for just one month. But those fleeting hopes were being dashed by reality, which was far less merciful.
Yuuto had won every battle he’d fought as a commander and made a name for himself in Yggdrasil as a great leader, but he himself had never once thought of himself in that way.
To his view, all he’d ever done was copy and make use of knowledge, weapons, and techniques that came from far in the future compared to that world. That was what gave his clan the overwhelming military strength that allowed it to defeat its enemies.
He wasn’t like one of those genius war tacticians in manga, who could predict the thoughts and actions of the enemy in real time on the field, and thus always act one step ahead. That sort of thing was completely beyond someone like him.
He had managed to come up with two potential ways of stopping Steinþórr, but one of them absolutely required that it be Yuuto himself who carried it out, and the other required something that didn’t exist in Yggdrasil, which was in Yuuto’s possession.
The strategist Sun Tzu often talked in his works about the need to adapt on the fly to the enemy’s actions, and to the conditions of the moment. For Yuuto right now, getting information about his people out in the field and getting his orders sent back to them came with a time lag of several days.
That was why he was settling for giving general strategy advice, and then entrusting decisions on the field to the commanders there. But it seemed that hadn’t been enough to work against Steinþórr, the man who defied all common sense.
“Ten days left until the full moon...” It felt like such a long time to wait. Yuuto wasn’t sure how much longer they would be able to hold out.
Gimlé, in particular, was facing the menace of Steinþórr and his rune of Mjǫlnir, the Shatterer. Already, there wasn’t any time to spare.
For Fólkvangr, the area around the city didn’t have an easy lumber supply, so for the time being, they didn’t have to worry about attacks from trebuchets, but it was still a highly unpredictable situation there.
“Urrgh, dammit! At this rate, even if the summoning works, it’ll already be too late.” Yuuto spat out the words in irritation, fed up with the unease that was welling up within him.
Gimlé would be the first to fall. Considering Steinþórr’s strength, though, by the time he made it back, Iárnviðr would likely have fallen as well.
If that happened, then the lives of his companions, his family, Mitsuki, they would all...
“Okay,” Mitsuki said. “In that case, let’s do it tonight. Let’s try the summoning tonight.”
“Excuse me? Tonight? What are you saying?” Yuuto instinctively looked out the window to check. The moon was still not even halfway full. “There’s no chance that’s going to...”
“Yeah, I know that there’s not a good chance it’ll work. Honestly, I don’t even think I can pull off the incantation and the dance right, yet. But, even if it does fail, it’s not like there’s any penalty for that, right?”
“Ah...!” Yuuto gasped. In that instant, it was like his mind had been struck by a bolt of lightning.
This feeling had to be what people meant when they referred to the “scales falling from one’s eyes.”
It was just as Mitsuki said.
Because he’d been so sure the ritual would fail, he’d dismissed the very idea of trying it early. But there weren’t any negative consequences for simply performing the ritual itself.
They would benefit if it succeeded, and there were no losses if it failed. All they would have to do is try again during the night of the full moon, like originally planned.
And if they thought of this as a rehearsal for the final attempt, then even a failed early attempt had its own benefits.
“Okay, let’s do it,” Yuuto said with a nod. He made the decision immediately, and gave Mitsuki the go-ahead.
However, Yuuto could not possibly know that this choice would also bring misfortune upon him.
Within the sanctuary at the top of the sacred ritual tower, the Hliðskjálf, Mitsuki stood facing the divine mirror on its altar.
She was dressed differently than usual, in a beautiful and elegant outfit of the purest white.
Originally, these robes had been secretly prepared by the people in Iárnviðr when they learned that Yuuto would be marrying Mitsuki and bringing her with him to Yggdrasil. It was to be her bridal wear. But now it would be used for another purpose.
This was, after all, a sacred religious ceremony, so she couldn’t do it properly in her normal attire.
Being dressed so differently would serve to focus her mind on the task, and increase her concentration. At least, that was the aim.
“...So, that’s why I’d like to perform the summoning ritual starting right now!” Mitsuki seemed to be speaking to empty air.
Gathered behind her were the few members of the Wolf Clan’s high officers who still remained in Iárnviðr. They were watching her nervously.
Perhaps to them, it appeared as if she were just standing there talking to herself. But that wasn’t the case at all.
Standing directly in front of Mitsuki, Rífa sighed with exasperation and slumped her shoulders. “Ridiculous. You only just got a handle on casting the Mistilteinn spell the other day. In fact, ridiculous isn’t even the start of it.”
Rífa’s body appeared transparent, like a hologram.
Of course, she wasn’t physically there, and the other people in the room couldn’t see her.
“Mistilteinn”: Translated from the language of Yggdrasil into Japanese, it became the word for “mistletoe.”
It was a seiðr spell that was used to open a channel to spirits, or the souls of the dead, or other such otherworldly forces. One could then communicate with those forces, or borrow power from them.
Mitsuki was using the power of this seiðr to open a channel between herself and Rífa.
Right now, the real Rífa was far away in Glaðsheimr.
According to Rífa’s explanation, for two humans to use magic to communicate with each other, they normally needed a special set of magically paired mirrors. However, it seemed that Mitsuki and Rífa were different, somehow, and furthermore seemed to share some sort of peculiar connection. They could use this method to communicate, without needing the usual proper items.
“There is nothing more frightening than an amateur,” Rífa grumbled. “They tend to try things an expert would never dream of.”
“I know that this is reckless,” Mitsuki said. “But in ten days from now, it might already be too late.”
“Hm, are things already that serious over there?”
“...Yes.” There was no reason for Mitsuki to hide anything now.
She told Rífa about how the Wolf Clan had been defeated at Élivágar River, and about how Fólkvangr was surrounded.
“...Haah. What a mess,” Rífa sighed again, in a slightly affected manner. “And here I was just about to go to bed, too.”
She directed a pointed glare at Mitsuki.
It was a roundabout and difficult-to-understand way of putting it, but she was agreeing to Mitsuki’s request.
Mitsuki bowed deeply with enough force that it looked like her forehead might hit her knees. “Th-thank you so very much!”
“W-well, I can’t very well have you or those people who shared a hotpot with me go dying, after all. It would weigh on my conscience.”
With that tacked-on excuse, Rífa turned her head slightly and gave a small, hmph!
Mitsuki had only known her for two weeks now, but that was enough to easily tell that this was her way of hiding her embarrassment.
It was so sweet, she couldn’t help but smile.
“Hey, what are you grinning about?! Something about that irritates me!”
“S-sorry!” Mitsuki exclaimed.
“Ugh, honestly, two hundred years of this empire’s history, and you have got to be the first person to ever push around the þjóðann to do your bidding like this, I’m sure of it.”
“P-push around, I would never do something so...”
“Oh, but it’s the truth. Think about it. I’ve spent all of my free time helping you, haven’t I?”
“Ohh....”
“Ah, but, well... If I imagine that it will all end tonight, then I suppose that puts a spring in my step. Now then, I’m going to get changed. Wait a moment.”
With this, Rífa began walking forward, though the image Mitsuki was looking at didn’t move toward her. Then she suddenly started removing her clothes.
“Wh-wh-whoa! Wh-what are you doing?!” Mitsuki shrieked.
“What am I doing? I told you, I’m getting changed. This is a proper ritual, so I’ll need to wear the appropriate attire.”
“Uh, y-yes, that’s true, but...” With a troubled expression, Mitsuki glanced at the people gathered behind her.
She knew that they couldn’t see the image of Rífa, but she still felt them looking in her direction, and it made her uncomfortable all the same.
After all, this girl had the same face as her.
It was like watching herself undress and get naked in front of a crowd of people, and even though that wasn’t strictly true, it felt like it. She felt her face slowly turning red from the neck up.
“Now then, Mitsuki, are you ready?” Rífa looked straight at Mitsuki with hard, serious eyes.
Rífa was now also clad in formal religious attire, with colors based in white and purple.
There was a slight glossiness to the light, fluttering material of her outfit. It was probably made mostly from silk.
The glittering, golden crown atop her head was adorned with feathers of the falcon, the “lord of the skies,” and at its center was a large ruby.
It was a gorgeous combination, quite befitting of the Divine Empress said to rule all the realm of Yggdrasil.
“Ready!” Mitsuki replied. “Yuu-kun says his preparations are done, too.”
Just a few moments ago, Felicia had finished confirming things with Yuuto over the phone. Right now he should be at the Tsukinomiya Shrine, standing in front of the divine mirror altar and using his smartphone camera to gaze into the mirror.
“Ssss... Haaah...” Mitsuki closed her eyes and took in a several slow, deep breaths.
She could hear her own heart pounding. It was much faster than normal.
A failure here meant that much more Wolf Clan blood would be spilled. She had explained the idea to Yuuto with the explanation that they should try it because they had nothing left to lose, but of course she was still nervous.
She needed to change that nervous tension into strength, into power.
She sharpened her focus, bringing her mind’s concentration and inner awareness up to its limit.
“I will now begin the ritual.” Mitsuki spoke that solemn declaration, and opened her eyes.
Within those two eyes floated a pair of golden, runic symbols shaped like birds.
“Mm. Be sure and give me a proper signal,” Rífa replied. “Your voice is the only thing I can hear.”
“Right.” Mitsuki nodded, and got down on one knee, placing the fingertips of both hands against the floor.
In the image in front of her, Rífa assumed the same pose.
Silence reigned over the sanctuary hall, and the air was incredibly tense.
Eventually, the sound of drums and pipes began to play behind her.
“Begin!” With that, Mitsuki stood up, and spread both of her arms wide.
In front of her, Rífa was mirroring those same motions, her arms out sideways.
“ᚠᛟᛉ ᛟᛋᛋ ᛋᛖᚷᛖᛉᛜ.” In rhythm with the music, Mitsuki and Rífa chanted the words of the sacred vow in perfect unison, and slowly spun around in place once.
Performing these precise actions with precisely the same timing increased their synchronization with each other, and made the magical channel connecting Mitsuki to Rífa much wider and stronger.
“ᚠᛟᚦᛋᛈᚨᛉ ᚲᚨᚦᚦ.”
They folded their arms and leaned slightly forward.
“ᚲᚹᛁᛜᛜᚨ ᛋᚲᚨᚷᚷ.”
With a light, kicking step to one side, they thrust out their left arms.
The belled tassels wrapped around their arms and waist jingled with a soft, dignified sound as they moved.
“ᚱᛟᚦᚦᛖᛉᛜᚨ. ᚨᚹ ᛋᚦᛖᛜᚷ.”
Bringing their left arms back, this time they stepped lightly in the other direction, and thrust out their right arms.
The tempo of the music suddenly increased.
Mitsuki and Rífa increased the speed of their flowing movements alongside it.
They performed the dance with single-minded devotion, dedicating their whole heart into each movement and verse.
And, at last... the music which had been so fast and aggressive suddenly stopped completely.
This was it.
Mitsuki used every ounce of air in her lungs as she shouted the final words of power.
“Gleipnir!”
As Mitsuki and Rífa called the final word in unison, a flow of bright light began to emanate from the palms of their outstretched right hands.
The two streams of light found each other and entwined with each other to create a single stream, which was flowed into the glass of the divine mirror.
This was the secret key to the plan Rífa had outlined to Mitsuki about how they could work together to summon Yuuto.
Regardless of Rífa’s magical prowess, without access to the special paired mirror, she could not perform the spell through it to call upon someone from the other world.
On the other hand, Mitsuki was a twin rune Einherjar with great potential, but of course she wasn’t going to be able to gain enough experience in one month to be able to overcome the magic of the great Witch of Miðgarðr, Sigyn.
In fact, at this point in time, Mitsuki’s total power and ability with seiðr magic was still lower than Felicia’s.
But, in a sense, Mitsuki was a “paired person” with Rífa, similar to the magical mirrors. And Rífa had come up with the idea of using the spell Mistilteinn, to let her use Mitsuki as a spiritual conduit for her own power. And through Mitsuki, she could also send her own Gleipnir spell into the divine mirror enshrined in Iárnviðr.
“Ah?!” Mitsuki exclaimed.
It happened about ten seconds after the spell had activated. A sharp, snapping sensation passed through her right hand, as if something had been pulled taut. This was it: Gleipnir had caught hold of Yuuto.
However, the sensation of holding her target in her grasp quickly disappeared.
Next there was another quick, strong snap! and once again it felt as if something had been caught, but once again it vanished.
The closest analogy Mitsuki could think of was the sensation of holding a fishing line. It was as if the fish took the bait and pulled hard enough to bend the fishing pole, but then quickly let go and swam away.
“The magic is being deflected. It must be Fimbulvetr.” Rífa spoke the name of the spell with frustration.
“Fimbulvetr”: A seiðr spell which undid all bindings and released all restraints. It was Fimbulvetr which had undone Felicia’s original casting of Gleipnir, and sent Yuuto back to the modern world.
The effects of that spell were still lingering in Yuuto’s body, and it was rejecting the power of Rífa and Mitsuki’s Gleipnir now.
“It looks like it’s no good with the moon only being half full,” Rífa said. “Our power put together is still losing out. Well, I knew that you didn’t have much power to contribute in the first place, so that’s hardly surprising.”
“I-I’m sorry,” Mitsuki said tearfully. “B-but please try harder! We can’t just give up right away!”
“Do not panic,” Rífa scolded. “Our opponent is Sigyn, the Witch of Miðgarðr, remember? From the beginning I knew this might happen. If one casting doesn’t suffice, we need only attack a second time!”
Her voice rising to a powerful shout, Rífa began chanting the sacred words of Gleipnir from the beginning once again.
Mitsuki hurriedly followed, matching her.
As they were already in the midst of firing the magical energy of Gleipnir from their right hands, they did not need to perform the dance again, and simply repeated the spell incantation.
“Gleipnir!”
As they finished the second incantation, they shouted the word of power.
This time, beams of light extended from the palms of their left hands.
“Ngh...!” Mitsuki simultaneously felt like all of the strength was leaving her body, all at once.
She was performing the spell this time without the full ritual, and while already in the middle of activating a fully-powered casting of Gleipnir. The strain on her body now was incomparably greater than it had been with just the one casting.
“Gghhhh!”
Even so, Mitsuki gritted her teeth and focused on supplying the power flowing out of her left hand.
At last, she felt a sudden and powerful pulling sensation in both arms, vastly stronger than anything thus far.
“All right, we have him!” Rífa shouted, satisfied with this result.
Even a casting of Fimbulvetr by the Witch of Miðgarðr herself should not be able to hold off the power of two twin rune Einherjar casting a doubled version of the same spell together.
“Mitsuki, we’re going to pull him to us!” Rífa called.
“Right!” Mitsuki nodded, and tried to pull back the cord of light...
“It — it won’t move?!” Mitsuki exclaimed.
“Ghh! What’s happening?!” Rífa shouted.
It was as if they were trying to pull up something with roots reaching deep into the earth. It wouldn’t budge.
It had nothing to do with the physical strength of the girls’ slender arms.
The seiðr spell wound its magic into a cord, but it wasn’t something one pulled with the arms. It was something one pulled with the heart, with a will that grasped and commanded the magic.
They were two twin rune Einherjar working in tandem. It was hard to imagine that the two of them didn’t have enough power. And yet...
“It’s the moon,” Rífa said. “If the moon isn’t full, then the wall between worlds will not open fully for us.”
“No, that can’t be...! We were able to break through Fimbulvetr just now!”
“Don’t think I am going to come this far and give up, either. We’ll wrench the damned thing open! Nnghhaaa...!” Rífa cried out, and her spirit flared! The cords of light flowing out from her arms grew thicker.
However, even that wasn’t enough to pull Yuuto over to their side.
“Aaargh, then I’ll just cast a third... Urk, cough, cough!” As Rífa started to recite a third casting of Gleipnir, she suddenly began to cough terribly.
They weren’t the dry coughs of a sore throat. They were wet, violent, and unsettling.
Mitsuki saw that the pure white sleeves of Rífa’s robes were now covered with flecks of crimson red.
“L-Lady Rífa?! Y-you’re bleeding!” she screamed.
“Be quiet, and don’t panic! We’re going to pull Lord Yuuto to us! Focus only on that!” Rífa yelled, but she was wheezing and out of breath, and looked to be in a good deal of pain.
Mitsuki had heard before that Rífa bore some sort of hereditary syndrome.
It was likely that the intense stress from casting Gleipnir multiple times was becoming too much for her body to withstand.
“Uuuuughhh! Work, dammit!” Mitsuki screamed.
Rífa’s body wouldn’t be able to take this any longer. Mitsuki had to finish this as quickly as possible. She forced the magic out from within herself with all of her willpower.
She forced the magic out.
She forced herself harder.
She poured every last drop of energy in her body and soul into the magic flowing out of her hands.
But it still wasn’t enough to breach the wall.
It still wouldn’t budge.
“Ngh...!” Rífa made a pained sound, and Mitsuki saw that her right arm was fading from view.
The incorporeal image of Rífa had been semi-transparent to begin with, but now it looked like her right arm was vanishing completely.
“Krh... my power won’t last... any...”
“Gleipnir!” The voice, clear as a golden bell, echoed through the sanctuary.
It wasn’t Mitsuki’s voice, nor was it Rífa’s.
“Felicia!” Mitsuki turned in the direction of Felicia’s voice and shouted her name with joy.
One more seiðr wielder had entered the sacred hall.
And what’s more, she was the one who had already succeeded at summoning two people to Yggdrasil from another world!
Suddenly, the cords of light that had not budged began to move...
Cock-a-doodle-doo!
The piercing cry of a rooster woke Sigrún, and her eyes snapped open.
She could remember having somehow made it as far as the city gates of Gimlé, but nothing after that.
She must have passed out at that point, as the tension left her body out of a sense of relief.
She recognized the ceiling above her. This was the room she’d been assigned when she’d first arrived in Gimlé. Perhaps someone else from her special forces unit had brought her here, then.
“Well, I’d better get... Ugh?!” As Sigrún tried to lift her body from the bed, an intense pain flowed through her arm, and she grunted in pain.
Her head was also throbbing. It felt like it was going to split open. Perhaps the sudden movement had been too much for her.
“...Ngh! Looks like I pushed myself a little too hard.”
In the fight with the garmr, she had attained the ability she called the “realm of godspeed.”
Every time she used it, afterward she would get bad headaches and joint pain, but this time, it was especially terrible.
Both during the battle with the garmr, and when she’d fought Váli of the Panther Clan, she’d only accessed that ability for no more than a brief moment. But this time, she’d fully exploited it to its limits, perhaps even overused it. This had to be the blowback from that.
“But I can’t just lie around.” Sigrún clenched her teeth and forced herself to stand, enduring the intense pain.
Was their commander Skáviðr alive and well?
How many soldiers, how many officers had made it back to Gimlé?
Where was the Lightning Clan army right now?
These questions all plagued her, and she had many more.
If there was anywhere the information she needed would be gathered, it would be with Skáviðr, the current governor of the Gimlé region and commander of the garrison and fortress stronghold here.
Her body ached with every step, but she dragged herself forward, supporting herself against one wall, and headed for the audience chamber.
At the back of that room was a smaller personal quarters for the commander, with an office and bedroom. If Skáviðr was here, that was where he would likely be.
But as it turned out, someone else was in the audience chamber already.
The roosters had just crowed with the dawn, and outside the sun still hadn’t risen into the sky. The room was shrouded in darkness. The back half of the room was completely dark, so that even Sigrún’s eyes couldn’t make anything out from where she was.
However, her warrior’s sense of smell was keen, and she could smell the presence of someone ahead.
It was two people, in fact.
Was it Skáviðr having a conversation with someone else? But no, Sigrún didn’t hear any voices.
Both of the other people were keeping silent. Were they thieves, then? But no, she could not sense any trace of murderous intent.
Sigrún still placed a hand on the hilt of the sword at her waist, just in case, and slowly made her way toward the far end of the room.
The darkness became slightly clearer, and she could vaguely start to make out the outlines of the people there.
One of them was sitting on the slightly raised throne at the back of the room, leaning back with legs crossed. The second person was standing just to the side of the first.
Neither of them was Skáviðr. Those silhouettes didn’t match.
However, they were both figures that she knew very, very well.
“How... this can’t be... am I still asleep, dreaming?”
Sigrún was trembling. Her head was still pounding, and the muscles in her arms, shoulders, and back still ached terribly.
“I’d heard one can’t feel pain in a dream, but perhaps that was a lie.”
“No, it just means you’re not dreaming,” replied the person on the chair. It was such a nostalgic, familiar voice to her.
She’d last heard his voice about ten days ago thanks to that strange device of his, but it had been muffled, and somehow distant. It was nothing compared to the real thing she was hearing now.
“But... that cannot be true,” Sigrún protested, even as her speech became more polite. “There should still be many days left until the next full moon.”
“For that, you’ll have to thank Mitsuki and Rífa... and Felicia here, too.” The young man on the throne cast a glance at the golden-haired woman at his side. “The three of them combined their power and basically forced a miracle to happen.”
It sounded plausible enough, but Sigrún still had difficulty believing it.
“Then how were you able to come all the way here, even to this room, without a single person realizing it?” she asked.
This was the command center of the fortress at the very heart of Gimlé. Sigrún had passed by a number of patrolling guards on her way here. If anyone had seen this young man by now, there would surely have been a great commotion.
But despite the heavy security within the fortress walls, it was still quiet.
And that wasn’t all. There was the Lightning Clan army, which should be advancing toward the city. No, perhaps they might already be in formation in front of the city by now.
How could he have slipped past them as well, before even having to pass the tightly locked city gates?
In the end, Sigrún just couldn’t trust that the young man in front of her was the real thing.
“You see, the thing about rulers is... it turns out that most of ’em think only about saving themselves.” The young man stood up and got off of the throne.
Felicia seemed to understand what he was getting at. She moved the chair to one side, removed the sheet covering the floor below it, and pulled at one of the flooring stones.
The stone pulled away to reveal a hole just the right size for a single person to climb down into, complete with a built-in rope ladder.
“Linnea told me about this secret passage, since her clan used to rule this area,” the young man explained. “If you go through here, it takes you all the way to a spot outside the city.”
True, if one were to use this passage, it wouldn’t be strange if they could make it to this room without any of the guards noticing.
But still, Sigrún couldn’t let herself believe.
It was too convenient, too good to be true.
She couldn’t think of this as anything other than an illusion, a product of her deepest wishes.
“You... you did well in holding on until I could come back.” The young man placed a hand gently on top of Sigrún’s head, and proceeded to pat her head gently.
That sensation, the feeling of kindness behind it, was something Sigrún’s body remembered perfectly.
There was no way she could ever forget it.
After all, to her it was the greatest reward she could ever request.
She felt hot tears seeping into her eyes.
She didn’t care if this was a dream or an illusion anymore.
“F-Father...!” Unable to stand it anymore, Sigrún leapt into Yuuto’s arms, clinging to him.
She hit him with enough momentum to send them tumbling to the ground, but she didn’t care anymore. She buried her face in his chest, concerned only with using her senses to confirm that it really was him.
“Father! Father! Father! I... I’ve wanted to see you so, so muuuuch... waaahhhhh!” Sigrún could say no more, bursting into uncontrollable sobs.
“W-whoa, what?! Rún, what’s with you?! F-Felicia, do something!”
“I am not sure what exactly I should do,” Felicia said. “After all, this is also the first time I’ve seen Rún like this...”
Yuuto and Felicia exchanged worried remarks while Sigrún let her tears fall.
“What’s happened?! Wha... M-M-Master Yuuto?!” The door in the back of the room flew open with a bang! and Skáviðr’s shocked voice echoed in the dim room. He must have heard the commotion from his quarters and run in to investigate.
More voices and approaching footsteps could be heard from the entrance to the chamber.
“What’s going on?!”
“What’s all this?!”
It wasn’t one or two people, but at least five or ten.
Sigrún couldn’t allow herself to be seen crying like a common civilian girl in front of such a crowd. It would be a stain upon her honor as a warrior.
She tried willing herself to stop crying, but the feelings she’d held back continued welling up from deep within her heart, and so too did the tears.
However, as it happened, not one of the people who arrived on the scene paid any attention to her appearance.
“Pa... Pa-Pa-Patriarch Yuuto?!”
“I-is this a dream?! Am I dreaming right now?!”
They all stared intently at the face of the young man holding Sigrún, and then every one of them did exactly the same thing.
They each put a hand to their cheek and pinched, hard.
Doing so was the only way they could know for sure that this was reality.
“Welcome back!” one of them shouted at last.
“W-we are so glad that you have returned!”
“We can win! We can win this now!”
The others surrounded Yuuto, each of them shouting with joy, or crying, or cheering.
Eventually one of them shouted at the top of his lungs, “Sieg Patriarch!”
There was a brief moment of silence.
But then everyone realized that those words were what best captured the feeling that was in the hearts of everyone present.
Everyone exchanged glances, and then they all cheered as one:
“Sieg Patriarch! Sieg Patriarch!!” they shouted at the top of their lungs.
Their joyous cries spread to the people who heard them outside the audience chamber, and from person to person, until not just everyone in the stronghold, but everyone in the whole city was cheering together in a great, spontaneous chorus.
It was the Wolf Clan’s triumphant howl of exultation, announcing to the world that, after two long months, their master had finally returned home.
The massive sound from their cries did not merely shake the air; it seemed to shake the very buildings of the city itself.
“Hm? What’s going on?!” Steinþórr had been eating his breakfast of dried meat when he suddenly heard a commotion, cheering voices echoing out from the direction of the city. Still chewing on some meat, he left his tent to investigate.
As he opened the tent flap, the first thing that entered his vision was the tall, imposing city wall, solidly constructed from layer upon layer of baked bricks.
This was Gimlé, one of the most important Wolf Clan cities aside from their capital, Iárnviðr.
After they had beaten the Wolf Clan at Élivágar River, the Lightning Clan army had continued pursuing their defeated foe, and their advance had taken them all the way to this city.
When they’d arrived outside the city walls, the sun had already nearly set. They set up a perimeter around the city to prevent the enemy from escaping, and then began resting the troops. Today was the day they were to begin their attack on the city in earnest.
“SIEG PATRIARCH! SIEG PATRIARCH!!”
The cheers coming out of the city were so voluminous and loud that the vibrations rattled Steinþórr’s chest.
He’d set his camp some distance away from the walls in order to avoid attacks by archers, but even at this distance, the shouts felt as loud as if he were in the very midst of a fierce battle.
And what was most surprising of all was that they kept getting even louder.
“‘Sieg Patriarch’?” Steinþórr frowned and tilted his head, puzzled.
If they were talking about the Wolf Clan patriarch, then of course it had to be Suoh-Yuuto. But he was supposed to have been killed back at the Battle of Gashina.
“Surely it is a bluff,” said Þjálfi, walking up from behind to stand beside Steinþórr. “They mean to make their own soldiers think Suoh-Yuuto is still alive to boost their morale, and make us think the same to frighten us.”
jálfi must have heard the commotion from inside his own tent and been just as curious.
“Yeah, at first that’s what I thought it was too, but, don’t you think this is a bit too much for just a bluff?” Steinþórr asked.
“Mm, you have a point, now that you mention it...” Þjálfi trailed off in thought.
The cheers still hadn’t stopped, and they seemed to rumble through the atmosphere around them like thunder.
They puzzled over the problem. How many shouting people would it take to create this much noise? That was the question.
It was safe to say that a mere ten or twenty thousand wouldn’t be nearly enough.
The possibility that every single citizen of the city had begun cheering spontaneously was too absurd to consider. Even Steinþórr, the man whose strength defied common sense, and Þjálfi, the man who was used to his patriarch’s sense-defying ways, would never have considered it.
So they instead wondered where the Wolf Clan could have gathered enough soldiers from to make this noise. But the Wolf Clan hadn’t had that many soldiers before, so then, how could they have produced such a huge amount of new soldiers in the city without any prior warning or evidence?
Gathering up a large army and moving the troops meant being seen and heard. It should have been impossible to move a large number of troops here without the Lightning Clan noticing anything at all.
The only person who could pull off that sort of magic trick was—
“Hm?! Hey, Þjálfi! Look, look there!” Steinþórr shouted.
“What?! B-black hair?! Could that be...?”
“Hahahaaaa! HAHAHAHAHA!!” Steinþórr burst out into joyous laughter. “So you’re alive after all, Suoh-Yuuto!!”
Just to the right of the main city gates was one of the wall’s lookout towers, and standing on the edge of that tower was a human figure. From this distance, a normal person wouldn’t be able to tell who it was, but Steinþórr had the eyes of a hawk, and he could make out the face of the black-haired young man standing there.
Even from this far away, Steinþórr would never mistake the face of the enemy he acknowledged as his true enemy and rival.
No matter how you looked at him, that was the Wolf Clan patriarch, Suoh-Yuuto.
Yuuto held up his right hand.
As he did so, there was a loud, heavy rumbling noise, as the tightly locked gates of Gimlé were pulled open.
Steinþórr tensed up. Is that massive number of soldiers that was cheering gonna pour out of the gates to attack us?! he thought, and readied himself. But no, that didn’t seem to be happening.
After a moment of wondering what was going on, he looked back up at Yuuto. Yuuto was looking right back down in Steinþórr’s direction, and with a hand, he made a haughty, beckoning gesture.
“He’s taunting me to come in!” Steinþórr felt a strange shiver run down his back.
If this were the Steinþórr from before the Battle of Gashina, he would have accepted the challenge and charged forward without any hesitation.
But now, he was different: Before every charge forward, he stopped once to think.
During the first Battle of Élivágar River, he had been drunk on his victory in the first stages of the battle, and launched pursuit attacks against the retreating enemy that led him into a trap. The raging flood waters had swallowed him up, and he’d lost several thousand of his men.
Next, at the Battle of Gashina, he had imagined he was carving his enemy’s formation in two, only to find that they had moved to surround him on all sides. In addition, he’d left Fort Gashina itself undefended and it was recaptured from behind him.
Every time he’d gotten too caught up in early victory and charged forward without paying attention, he had stepped into his enemy’s trap and suffered for it.
That was what fighting Suoh-Yuuto had taught him.
This situation felt like it was following that very same pattern.
He’d just defeated the Wolf Clan at the second Battle of Élivágar River, erasing his shame for the loss during the previous battle there. And now he had come marching on Gimlé in high spirits, drunk on his recent victory. And here was Yuuto, opening the gates and happily inviting him in.
The raucous cheers from earlier also unsettled him.
What is this if not a trap?! the voice in his mind shouted. It’s as plain as day! He’s counting on using my nature against me, taunting me and counting on me being the man who used to charge in without thinking every time, no matter what!
Of course, Steinþórr also felt the desire to accept the challenge anyway, to charge in and use pure strength to tear apart whatever trap awaited him in there. And if he were alone, that would be one thing, but he had eight thousand of his children here with him.
His men had suffered at the hands of those traps several times now, so Steinþórr couldn’t just tell them with confidence that they would absolutely be able to break through the next one.
Steinþórr gave a long, deep sigh, and he turned his back on Gimlé.
“We’re withdrawing.”
“Withdrawing?!” Þjálfi cried, astonished. He turned and shouted after Steinþórr, “After we’ve come this far?!”
Steinþórr didn’t turn back around. He slumped his shoulders and said, “It’s because we’ve come this far. We’ve reclaimed our honor at Élivágar River, and we recaptured the territory they took from us in the last war. If we stop now, this is still absolutely our win. Whenever we get too greedy with Suoh-Yuuto, it never turns out well. I’m not gonna walk into such an obvious trap and throw away our victory. That’d just be stupid. This is the right time to pull back.”
“Th-the Lightning Clan army is withdrawing!” a Wolf Clan lookout pointed downward and shouted in a shrill, excited voice. He couldn’t seem to believe his own eyes.
Even the governor of Gimlé, Skáviðr, was stunned as he looked upon this scene, and he wondered if it might be some trick.
“Haaugh, urgh, I really am sleepy. But riding a horse straight through the night will do that to you.” Yuuto let out a huge yawn. He was perhaps the only person here able to casually yawn like this.
“So this is the thirty-second of the Thirty-Six Stratagems, the ‘Empty Fortress’....” Skáviðr whispered.
He had already heard the details of the strategy from Yuuto once before.
The trick was to deliberately open the gates to one’s stronghold and invite the enemy in, causing them to become incredibly wary of a trap, and to pull back instead.
When he’d heard it, he’d been stunned speechless by how utterly preposterous it sounded. But here he was seeing it in action, working exactly as intended. He still couldn’t quite believe it.
Too many unrealistic things were happening today, and nothing felt real.
“Back in Japan, this trick is super famous, so nobody would be fooled by it, but over here, it’s a strategy that’s still from fifteen hundred years in the future,” Yuuto said. “Of course you might think this was a trap, as long as you didn’t know it was a trick.”
“You are quite right...” Skáviðr murmured. “If I were in the shoes of the Lightning Clan commander, I too would find it so suspicious that it would make me wary of moving forward.”
“Well, I guess that just means that idiot (Steinþórr) isn’t really a complete idiot, after all. I guess that makes sense; it’s only human to start to be wary of someone after they’ve worked you over twice.” Yuuto chuckled to himself mischievously.
You make it sound so simple, Skáviðr thought, and chuckled wryly.
If it had been someone like himself or Sigrún, then when they opened the gates, even knowing it was a trap, the Lightning Clan army would surely have come rushing in like a starving tiger, and torn the city apart.
That was because it wasn’t the Wolf Clan Steinþórr was wary of; it was Yuuto.
“There is no mistaking it... you truly are the incarnation of a god of war!” Skáviðr felt a shiver run through him as he said this.
Both the previous and current Mánagarmr, the strongest warriors of the Wolf Clan, had worked together to fight Steinþórr, risking their lives and using every ounce of their strength and intellect in the attempt, and they still could not stop him. And yet this young man had simply shown himself and made one gesture, and that had been enough to not only halt the advance of the Battle-Hungry Tiger, but make him retreat.
Yuuto was on a completely different level.
“Hey, this was nothing more than a simple lie,” Yuuto said. “It doesn’t even qualify as cheating.”
“Calling it ‘simple’ is being entirely too humble. At the very least, I would be too afraid to put that plan into action. After all, if they had chosen to attack, wouldn’t that have been the end of everything?”
The strategy had been so brilliant and satisfying only because it had worked. If it had gone wrong, they would have brought their enemy right into their city. It had been an incredibly dangerous bluff.
After all, their enemy was the Dólgþrasir, the Battle-Hungry Tiger. If Steinþórr hadn’t taken any lessons from his two defeats, and had charged mindlessly forward again, the Wolf Clan forces may have been wiped out.
“If things came to that, I would’ve just used this.” Yuuto reached into the leather bag hanging from his right hip, and produced a certain item.
“What is that, exactly?”
“Oh, this? Well...” Yuuto proceeded to tell Skáviðr about the usage and effects of this particular item.
It was so small, light, and seemingly unreliable as a tool.
It certainly didn’t look nearly as frightening as Yuuto described it to be, but Skáviðr had no choice but to believe him. Yuuto wasn’t the type to lie about these things, and he had created so many miracles thus far.
He had just finished creating one a moment ago, in fact. Skáviðr had to trust him.
“...I see,” said Skáviðr. “So then, it seems that the tiger was actually the one whose life was saved when he chose not to attack.”
“That’s right. But he is a bit of a problem for us, so I guess it wouldn’t have been so bad to kill him here and put him out of our misery. If it weren’t for what’s happening at Fólkvangr, that’s what I would have done.” Yuuto said this matter-of-factly, and there was a chilly edge to his tone.
“...?!” When Skáviðr heard those words, he felt sudden a sense of tension, a sensation like a blade was being held to his throat. It triggered an instinctive fear that made his blood run cold.
Skáviðr was a famous veteran of fighting battles while retreating, and so he had survived through some truly hellish situations. And right now, this young man half his age terrified him.
There was the fact that he’d dismissed that inhumanly strong monster as merely “a bit” of a problem, but more than that, it was the fact that he’d spoken of killing Steinþórr with no unnecessary emotion, or hesitation. That level of cold dispassion was something the old Yuuto had not possessed.
Skáviðr hadn’t seen Yuuto for about half a year since being dispatched to his post in Myrkviðr, and it would seem that during that time, or perhaps even during these last two months in his homeland beyond the heavens, something significant had changed in him.
Skáviðr now felt that Yuuto seemed so much more mature and adult now than he had before.
The naive part of his mentality was now hidden from view, and instead, what was visible was something stronger, some sort of firm resolve.
There had been plenty of times before now where Yuuto had shown the spirit of a true conqueror, but that had always been limited and temporary, when he was filled with intense emotions.
But now, the air around him was calm, and yet he still held the aura of the proud and mighty lion.
The usually-calm Skáviðr spoke with his voice trembling with emotion. “You really have come back to us as a grown man!”
This was what it felt like to be a proud parent watching a child grow mature.
He had never said it outright, and never intended to either, but having lost his young child, Skáviðr had come to think of Yuuto as like his own son.
“Huh? Did I get taller or something?” Yuuto asked. “Oh, right, I haven’t seen you in about eight months now. I guess I would be taller.”
“Yes, you have grown in height, as well. But what I was referring to was your growth as a person.”
“Uhh, huh? Not sure I know what you’re talking about, myself... Well, I guess it is time I got my act together and started trying to become an adult, huh?” Yuuto stared out into the distance.
Skáviðr looked out in the same direction.
Though they were standing in the same place and gazing at the same scene, they were surely seeing very different things.
This young man was looking down from much higher, and seeing much farther, than he was.
That was what Skáviðr believed.
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