9
Bursting through the window of the great chamber, the runaway knights landed hard in the garden below.
The perimeter around the Crystal Palace was almost impervious; if they couldn’t somehow avoid the seemingly ever-present eye of the imperial soldiers, they would never manage their escape. Hiding would prove a fruitless effort. As word spread that the emperor had been kidnapped, the troops would only grow more zealous. If this flight was to succeed, they first needed to escape the net before it tightened any further.
“ ”
Silently, avoiding any lines of sight, they worked their way out of the garden, vaulting over the towering castle walls with their own strength and the help of some wind magic. It was comparatively easier to get out from the inside than it was the other way around.
Once on the far side of the walls, they kept running, heading not for the bustling town, but aiming to disappear into the forest that grew within the boundaries of the capital. When they were sure there was no one else around, they finally stopped.
“Looks like we’re all in one piece,” Julius said. He had assigned Alo, the air spirit, to detect any shifts in the atmosphere. Ire, the fire spirit, would watch for sources of heat. With his two sentries in place, the young man was satisfied there was nothing unusual in the immediate vicinity.
“Ugh,” Ferris groaned from his spot cradled in Julius’s arms. “How did this happen?”
“Complaining won’t change anything, Ferris. And we can’t expect things to get any less urgent, either. Our friends back at the castle are going to have their hands full while we’re leading this merry chase.”
“Yeah, sure, you’re right, I know. C’mon, let me down already.” Ferris pursed his lips but stood at last upon the grassy earth.
Reinhard likewise let go of Vincent, whom he had been carrying the way Julius had carried the demi-human. Removing the sword at his hip, he knelt in the most respectful bow he could make. “Emperor Vincent, I offer my heartfelt apologies for my impudence, and for any discomfort I inflicted on you.”
“It matters not; I have deigned it necessary. Indeed, I must, for your actions are quite in line with my own thinking. But I must ask: How is it that there was no breath of wind though we traveled at such speed?”
“Sire, it is because of the wind-free blessing, just like that of a land dragon.”
“It troubles me that a child of man such as yourself should possess that quality. But that is a topic for another hour.” Vincent stopped and turned his dark eyes on Julius. His gaze was as sharp as a sword, and it caused Julius to straighten up. The emperor brushed off his dark garments and said, “You did well to understand my intentions. I commend you.”
“I’m grateful, Your Majesty… However, if The Guillotine of Magrizza had not come up already in the throne room, I doubt I would have made the connection. I’m deeply impressed by Your Majesty’s quick thinking and ability to make use of the reference. Though, we can’t be certain no one else in the room recognized it…”
“Oh, I believe I can. None of the rabble in that room know the value of a single letter. What was most crucial was that I vacated the place with all possible speed.” Vincent’s voice was quiet, completely unfazed; his eyes were half closed.
Taking careful stock of what the ruler of Volakia might’ve been thinking, Julius at last turned his thoughts to the scene in the castle that had started this entire bizarre episode: the awful sight of Reinhard and Balleroy amid a pool of blood. “Reinhard, I want you to tell me about earlier. What in the world happened?”
Ferris put in his two cents as well. “Yeah, Ferri was wondering the same thing! I thought he must have attacked you first, but how did it even start? Spill the beans!”
Reinhard’s eyes drooped, and he picked up his sword, his constant companion, from the ground and returned the weapon to its spot at his hip. “Believe me, I want to tell you everything, but…I’m just as confused. It all happened so suddenly.”
“You mean he came at you so suddenly, you had to react before you knew what you were doing?”
“Ferris, don’t interrupt,” Julius admonished, to which the cat-boy replied “Fiiine,” and went quiet. The purple-haired knight looked Reinhard over from head to toe and said, “I’m no Ferris, but it doesn’t look to me like you have any wounds. I doubt you were attacked. Not that I think you couldn’t defeat Balleroy without taking a scratch, but…”
“Even I couldn’t take on Master Balleroy and expect to come away untouched. That would be true even if my powers weren’t limited by this collar.” Reinhard let his fingers fall to his neck and brush the Collar of Submission. So long as he wore it, he would be unable to make use of his full strength. As immensely powerful as Reinhard was, it was still difficult to imagine him defeating one of Volakia’s top generals without so much as a single bruise.
“You’re saying that Master Balleroy did not fall by your hand, then.”
“I…don’t know.”
“I’m sorry?” Just as Julius had begun to believe the truth would exonerate the Sword Saint, the young man gave a previously inconceivable answer. It was ambiguous and not an outright refusal. How could he not have known?
“You remember I received that summons. They led me into that big room. I was told to wait there for His Majesty. But…”
“But His Majesty never came,” Julius finished.
Vincent, now the subject of the conversation, winked. Encouraged by the emperor’s silence, Reinhard continued. “Master Balleroy was already there. The other soldiers you saw on the floor were in there, too. They’d said something about being His Majesty’s bodyguard, but…”
“ ” There was silence from the others.
“One thing I’m sure of: I felt something weigh down heavily on my consciousness for a moment. I feel like I’m missing a second or two of my own life. When that weight disappeared, that was how I found myself.”
“…So you sort of went into a dream for a few seconds, and when you woke up, everyone was dead?” Reinhard had been choosing his words carefully, but Ferris summed up the situation more bluntly. After his tactless conclusion, the demi-human said “Hmmmm,” as though it was all a lot to swallow. “I’m real sorry, but mew have to agree that sounds totally made-up.”
“You’ll notice I’m not having a lot of luck explaining myself.”
There wasn’t much Reinhard could say to Ferris’s unsparing assessment. Julius looked equally disturbed, but for a different reason. “I don’t think any of this was accidental. Reinhard, I think you were led into a trap.”
“…Yeah. Framed for the murder of one of the empire’s generals.”
“‘Framed’ is a funny way of putting it,” Vincent broke in. “The inhabitants of the castle are no doubt convinced you did it. Considering that you sacrificed any opportunity to explain yourself when you kidnapped me and ran away.”
“Hold on,” Ferris said, raising an eyebrow. “I hate to say this to someone as important as yourself, sir, but if Reinhard was framed, then wouldn’t it make sense if the culprit was someone from the empire? You can’t act like this has nothing to do with you…”
“You suggest I should investigate seriously rather than engage in idle speculation? I believe you were the one who said this man’s testimony is hopelessly flimsy. Who could he convince with a story like that? Allow me to be clear: The people of the empire are no friends of the Sword Saint.”
“Argh…” Ferris’s face stiffened at Vincent’s brusque rebuttal. The ruler of Volakia was right, of course. The only reason Julius and Ferris gave any credence at all to Reinhard’s explanation was because they knew and trusted him personally. Without that, all who were present had to admit that circumstances looked grave for the red-haired man.
However…
“…If you’ll forgive my asking, sir, why did you come to that room?”
“Julius?” Reinhard looked quizzically at the other knight, who had bowed his head as he posed a question to the emperor. Julius took note of this look from his peripheral vision, refusing to take his eyes off of Vincent.
“Ferris and I saw Reinhard led out of our guest chambers, ostensibly at your summons. If you had come to the throne room to speak with him, that would make sense. But in that case…”
“You question why I allowed you to carry me off and create such a spectacle?”
“…Yes, Your Majesty. Further, it was you yourself who quoted The Guillotine of Magrizza, implicitly ordering us to take you… I can only imagine you have some deep design the likes of us cannot fathom.”
“Do you imagine, or do you wish and hope? …Well, no matter. You have the right of it, in broad terms. Passing marks for you.” Vincent, one eye closed, snorted softly. The moment he did so, the tension in the grove eased slightly; Ferris found himself letting out a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding. The unseen friction between the knights of Lugunica and the emperor of Volakia vanished. At least, Ferris felt that was so.
“Sword Saint, I suppose that you took me captive in order to cover yourself.”
“As you say, Your Majesty. I’ve never encountered such a pitch of hatred as I felt in that room, and despite the impropriety, I secured your person.”
“‘A pitch of hatred.’ Indeed. I believe it would be most surprising if anyone in the vicinity of that room didn’t want to kill you.”
“As I said—I’ve never encountered the like.”
That was a natural explanation of what seemed a reckless action on Reinhard’s part—taking Vincent hostage on the way to kidnapping him. It was as good as announcing that all the soldiers of the empire lined up at the door were nothing before Reinhard.
“An insolent man. You seem to know no fear.” Vincent’s remark could have been taken as embarrassing to the empire, and he dropped it there. Next, he turned to meet Julius’s golden eyes. “I chose to go to that place because of the pulse in my Crystal Palace.”
“Pulse, sir?”
“I do not intend to share the details with you. Nor have we the time to do so.”
“The time—”
Julius frowned, wondering why the ruler of Volakia would mention the time, or lack thereof. Suddenly, his spirits, which had been patrolling the area, simultaneously sent him a warning. Wind and fire—both presences were approaching in some form.
“There, now put on a good show. Before I turn my back on you,” Vincent said to them with a sadistic smile. Almost before he finished speaking, Julius looked up and discovered an enemy overhead. A ball of hostility raced toward them from far above the trees.
“Yaaaahhhhhh!!” A faint scream passed above, coming from something revolving at immensely high speed. Spinning on its side, the enemy looked like a silver disc—and it was heading straight for Julius…
“Shi—!”
He brought his knight’s sword up in a flash, meeting the disc in midair. Steel met with a metallic sound and sent through the earth a sharp shock wave that Julius could feel in his soles. He felt the vibration shaking all through his arms. He had managed to avoid the ambush at the last moment. Julius swept out forcefully with his still-tingling arms, shoving his enemy backward. His opponent landed on the ground on all fours and stared up at him from a low stance. There was both vigilance and hatred in those eyes.
“Ahhhhh, friggin’ shit! That hurt, ’ey! ’Ey, ’ey, ’ey, ’ey! ’Ey! Damn it all!” The vulgar tirade came from a demi-human small enough to be taken for a child. His entire body was covered in brown fur, some speckled with black. His mouth was full of sharp fangs, and he had a face similar to that of the dog-people—he was a young hyena-man. His eyes flashed with rage, and his entire body seemed to clatter with metallic sounds. It was likely because of the veritable armory of weapons hanging from the belts all over his body.
It seemed to be the demi-human’s copious fur that kept the blades of his own weapons from harming him. No, there was another reason: namely that he was immensely skilled in the handling of all the tools he carried. He exuded an almost feral presence—simple, but not to be underestimated. This was the spirit of a monstrously powerful warrior.
“Gah, damn it, that friggin’ hurt… Aw, hey, Your Majesty! Shit! Old Goz was right; you Lugunican shits are no slouches—but damn!”
“A hyena-man covered head to toe in weaponry… Master Groovy Gumlet, I presume,” Julius said.
“Nghaaa?! Screw you, knowin’ so much about a guy!” He scratched his head and snorted angrily. But he didn’t deny it. That was as good as admitting that he was indeed who Julius thought he was.
“Your Majesty, this man…,” Reinhard said.
“…Seems to be known to your friend there,” Vincent replied. “One of the Nine Divine Generals. He yells and shouts loudly enough to distinguish himself even among the colorful ranks of the Nine.”
“That’s the emperor, all freakin’ right! Knows how to give a man a compliment!” Groovy exclaimed. He was smoothing out the fur on his face with both hands, looking closely at his opponents. “I heard you iced Balleroy, you pricks. Let me tell ya something—he was a good man. Laughed too damn much, and I always thought he was too thin for his own good… But he was a good man.”
“We offer you our heartfelt condolences on his loss,” Julius said. “But we beg you to hear what we have to say as well. Master Balleroy’s death raises a number of unanswered—”
“Don’t try ’n’ talk your way out of this! I ain’t even listening, pissants! Mogro!” he barked, exclaiming a word Julius and the others didn’t recognize. But they soon discovered what it meant.
“Eeeeek?!”
“Ferris?!” Julius spun toward the shout to find Ferris floating in the air. No, not floating, exactly. His foot had been grabbed, and he was hanging upside down. The new assailant seemed to be a brownish-mineral humanoid construct who had appeared from underground. No sooner had Julius registered the impression than he connected the dots in his mind.
Volakia was home to a wide variety of demi-humans, including many unusual bloodlines unknown in Lugunica. Among them were a people called the Steelfolk, who had minerals in lieu of flesh-and-blood bodies. One of them ranked among Volakia’s Nine Generals. And their name was…
“Mogro Hagane!”
“You know well. Very well. Frightening.” Clods of earth fell from the massive being, who stood nearly nine feet tall. Their entire body was made of metal, except the joints, which appeared to be green gemstones—or perhaps something similar to magic stones. They looked like a giant stone doll made by something inhuman. But the intimidation radiating from Mogro was no different from what Groovy gave off; it was menacing and powerful.
“It came from underground…completely avoiding Ire’s and Alo’s patrols!”
Underground, one could approach without being detected by the elements of wind or fire. Mogro’s sneaking abilities had caught them completely unawares.
“H-h-help meeee!” Ferris cried, dancing in the air. Mogro looked strong enough to crush the demi-human’s slim form in their hand. Julius and Reinhard would have to get the boy back before that happened.
“Groovy Gumlet and Mogro Hagane.” As Julius tried to concoct a strategy, Vincent added his own view of their pursuers. “Sending numbers Six and Eight of the Nine Generals is a poor way to retrieve one’s sovereign.”
The Nine Divine Generals of Volakia, as the name implied, was a group of different people. They bore numbers from One to Nine, with Nine being thought of as the weakest, and One said to be the strongest. In that sense, they could have been pursued by much more terrible foes than Six and Eight.
“I fear the empire’s very finest warriors would have represented overkill against our abilities,” Julius replied politely, drawing his sword. “Reinhard!” They were dealing with two of Volakia’s Nine Generals; it was hardly a moment for a calm conversation.
These opponents sought to retrieve the emperor and likely planned to apprehend Julius and his companions as well.
“We can’t let them do as they please,” Julius declared as he stepped in with his knight’s blade flashing forward. He was aiming for Mogro’s limb, the arm holding Ferris up. If he could free the young man, then they could simply flee.
Harming or killing two of the Nine Generals would make their situation vastly more complicated, even if those two had been pursuing them. As such, Julius would have to fight with utmost care…
When Groovy saw the noncommittal strike, though, he immediately wheeled on Julius. “’Ey, ’ey, ’ey, ’s wrong with you? Why you assumin’ you can win, jackass?”
The pursuers took the half-hearted attack as an affront. So far from making things better, it turned out to be a grave miscalculation that only stoked the flames of Groovy and Mogro’s eagerness for battle.
“ ”
An attack was launched at Julius from the rear with stupendous speed. This time, the strike clearly intended to inflict a mortal wound; it was nothing like the battle’s opening blow, which had meant only to keep him at bay. Groovy produced two small hatchets from his belts and closed on Julius. He intended to dismember the knight at the neck and hips.
“Sorry, but I can’t let you hurt my friend.” At almost the same instant, Reinhard was covering Julius’s back, catching the blows from both hatchets. One of the Sword Saint’s strikes caught Groovy in the wrist, while he stomped his long legs firmly into the earth in a powerful stance.
“Tsk! Screw you! Your friend? That’s the same thing I called Balleroy, goddamnit!”
“ ” Reinhard pursed his lips as Groovy berated him in compensation for the forestalled physical assault. The hyena-man’s rage prevented the Sword Saint from having any opportunity to explain the truth.
At the same moment, Julius unleashed a blow that connected with Mogro’s sturdy arm. The attack landed precisely on the wrist of their right hand—the one still clutching Ferris. But with a sharp sound of impact, his sword simply bounced off. Steelfolk bodies were every bit as hard as they looked. One would probably need a metal cutter to do any harm to Mogro.
“Hrgh…”
“Eeeeek?!”
First the clash with Groovy and now his attack on Mogro. Julius’s right arm was still tingling from the two impacts as he drew his sword back—at which point, Mogro’s huge form danced about curiously before launching a powerful front kick. A geyser of earth shot forth as though the ground had exploded, and Ferris’s scream faded away as he was swung around. Hearing it, Julius didn’t fall backward but lunged at Mogro’s center to avoid the attack, slamming his sword into the inner thigh and the back of the creature’s hips—places that would be crippling blows on a human opponent. But all he got for his trouble was another shock and a difficult-to-control rebound. The purple-haired knight moved in as close as he dared in order to get at the inside of Mogro’s legs, and the sword dance between him and the metallic warrior began to appear like a whirlwind.
“…!”
Julius slammed into his opponent’s vital points one by one, dodging Mogro’s blows with some difficulty as he displayed his swordsmanship. Julius didn’t know much about the Steelfolk, but their overwhelming menace and their strength, which could obviously take his life with even a glancing blow, froze the blood in his veins.
He took no pride in going toe to toe with one of the empire’s strongest fighters. He had no chance to revel in his own swordsmanship or admire the power of his enemy. He was spending this moment at his absolute limit…
“You, strong. Me, surprised.”
Unlike Julius, who needed every ounce of his concentration and skill just to stay on even footing, Mogro still had the wherewithal to offer a word of praise. Truth be told, the Steelfolk’s fighting style suggested nothing of training or discipline. The general simply swung and struck in a manner that came naturally, as if trying to squash a small animal. Mogro had risen to be one of the Nine Divine Generals simply by virtue of an immense innate strength. It was a sort of natural advantage that stood quite apart from talent or genius.
“Surprised. Little more serious.” With that, Mogro brought an upraised arm down at Julius. The knight dodged it by the skin of his teeth, the ground beside him exploding at the force of the impact. But Julius himself had never been Mogro’s target. The general had sought to tear up the ground itself.
“Wha—?!”
The instant after his fist landed in the earth, Mogro began to spin their huge body at an incredible speed as they drilled down to the ground. They moved through the soil as readily as one might swim through water—and they were still holding Ferris.
“ ” It was, of course, Mogro’s tremendous sturdiness that allowed the general to perform this feat. A typical human who was forced to do the same would find the flesh torn from their limbs, their bones broken, and their organs turned to mush.
Such was the danger Ferris was in. Julius adjusted the grip on his saber and called out, “Reinhard!” He was going to give up his fruitless attacks on Mogro. Reinhard, still fighting with Groovy, instantly understood what Julius wanted and came flying over. They switched places as Reinhard landed a kick directly on Mogro’s torso. Having traded opponents, Julius’s blade met Groovy’s hatchets head-on.
“Grmf.” Steelfolk bodies were most at home underground, but Mogro found theirs flying through the air. To think that this human had launched them so effortlessly, despite the fact that the metal creature weighed many hundreds of pounds. It was a feat that painted Reinhard as much more than a swordsman.
Reinhard was indeed a knight of utmost ability, but the so-called Dragon Sword he carried was the most powerful blade in Lugunica, a treasure he chose to draw only against the most extraordinary opponents. Thus, Reinhard frequently fought empty-handed. The kick he had just delivered demonstrated he was well justified in doing so.
“He’s got the crazy-red hair, the crazy kick… Even I didn’t expect the Sword Saint to be such a tough mother!”
“Surely, you can think of a better way to put it than that. Such vulgarity doesn’t suit him.”
“I ain’t gonna say it again! I ain’t even listening to you, shithead!” Groovy’s weapons again clashed with Julius’s own. Like Mogro’s whirlwind fighting style, Groovy’s two-handed approach seemed to be more wild instinct than honed technique. Perhaps he had developed and trained his sword fighting in combat, based purely on what worked best for his body—but no, Groovy wasn’t using a sword. What the hyena-man was doing couldn’t even be called sword fighting.
“ ”
As they slashed at each other, Groovy flung his hatchets through the air, immediately drawing his next weapon. From his belts, he produced a pair of glove-like things that covered his fists. He let fly with one metal-covered fist, and Julius intercepted it with the butt of his sheath. He drove toward his opponent’s hips, hoping to take advantage of the opening he’d created and constrain Groovy’s movements…
“—Gah!”
But an instant later, there was a rush of air, and Julius fell back with a cry of pain. The blow had landed on his stomach, and his knight’s uniform was flecked with blood.
He had been hit. But there hadn’t been so much as a flinch to indicate the attack was coming. His eyes widened as he tried to comprehend how he had been struck, his reaction prompting Groovy to open his mouth wide and laugh. “Gah-ha-ha! Y’ like that? Magic knuckles. The gloves’ve got magic stones in them that can fire spells. They’re just big lumps of mana—and after one hit, they’re nothing but pretty rocks. Still, they’re more than enough to beat the tar out of a shithead!”
“Magic knuckles…” Julius had never heard of such a thing; he was amazed to find them so powerful. Even if they were inert most of the time, such weapons would be more than effective if a single blow could decide a battle.
Although the wound to the knight’s side wasn’t deep, it was more than enough to slow him down. It was doubtless it would make a big difference against an opponent as skilled as Groovy. If that was the case…
“Oh-ho?”
“Forgive me, but you’re not the only one who’s kept something in reserve.”
Groovy raised an eyebrow at the sudden change Julius exhibited. The scrapes around his belly wound glowed with a soft, blue light, and the bleeding stopped. Meanwhile, a red light enveloped his sword, and green and yellow ones enclosed around Julius’s body. The four lights came from greater spirits, each with a different element and power.
“So you’re a spirit mage! But so many of ’em… Damn, you must be good!”
“I’m gratified to hear you say that. It seems that’s the first thing I’ve been good at all day; I’m ill-suited as a negotiator.”
“Heh!” Groovy gave an irritable click of his tongue, as if it had been a joke. Julius, however, hadn’t been kidding. Everything he’d said was true.
Qua, the water spirit, closed up his wounds, while the fire spirit, Ire, made his saber burn red-hot. And with the spirits Alo of the air and Ake of the earth upon him, the knight’s physical abilities were improved. It was this combination of techniques that had earned Julius the moniker Spirit Knight.
Booooonngg!
Julius, garbed in light, stood confronting Groovy when something huge and long crashed in between them. It was Mogro’s arm, torn off at the elbow. There was an instant when Julius realized it was their left arm, which had been holding Ferris. Then he looked back.
“I’m sorry for the wait, Ferris.”
“Oh, th-thank goodness! Oh dear! What took you so long? That thing almost killed me! I was scared out of my wits!”
“My apologies.”
Rescued from Mogro’s hand, Ferris clung to Reinhard’s side, complaining loudly. The Sword Saint merely gave a wan smile, and Julius let out a short breath of relief. He saw now that one of Reinhard’s arms, the same one that now supported Ferris, looked as if it had delivered a knifehand strike. The sharpness required for such a blow to take off Mogro’s arm was unimaginable. In all the world, Reinhard might have been the only person who would ever be capable to sever a solid-steel appendage with an empty-handed technique like that.
“Damn it, Mogro! Butt out when a guy’s fighting, for hell’s sake! Oh, for—They’re beatin’ you into teeny-tiny pieces, damn it all!”
“Wrong, you are being; wrong. I, Groovy, not your minion.”
“I don’t give a shit what you think you are!” Groovy went over and gave Mogro’s lolling arm a vicious kick. Mogro grabbed it out of the air and pushed it up against the shoulder it had been cleaved from. In an instant, the wound was healed. Steelfolk, it was said, could heal any damage done to themselves, so long as their brain and heart remained intact. Combined with the hardiness of their bodies, they nearly seemed invincible.
Confronted with all that had happened, the fighters of both the kingdom and empire became more wary of each other. Now that they had really begun to put their cards on the table, the chances of a stalemate seemed ever greater…
“I have had quite enough of these boring displays.” The remark had come from the emperor, who until that moment had kept his distance from the battlefield.
“ ”
The spiraling passion amid those in the forest cooled immediately. Indeed, it had been snuffed by an altogether more commanding presence than soldiers on the field of war. It was impossible to explain logically why it so thoroughly froze conflict. Any of them could have physically overpowered Vincent—one with the sword, another with magic. So why did the ruler of Volakia seem to take hold of their very souls with just a word?
“Groovy, Mogro. What do you think it means to retrieve me?”
“Y-Your Majesty? Well, uh…”
“Does this look to you like an appropriate stage for your childish performances?”
The tone of Vincent’s voice was unwavering. Yet everyone present understood that the man had given an ultimatum. Faced with the emperor’s simmering anger, Groovy’s and Mogro’s attitudes changed immediately. Their eagerness for battle, the sense that they had all the time in the world, vanished. In its place was the aura of warriors who no longer had the luxury of messing around. That is to say—the aura of two of the Nine Divine Generals, the strongest fighters in the empire.
“Right, Mogro, no more games. We get damn serious, right from the first shot.”
“Understood. Comprehended. And agreed.”
Now that they were on the same page, Groovy and Mogro prepared to launch themselves at their opponents. Julius stiffened, readying for the change in battle. But then…
“Julius.”
A voice called from behind, and Julius spared a glance backward. Reinhard stood with Ferris, now safely on the ground. The Sword Saint’s blue eyes were locked on his fellow knight. Julius read their intent immediately, and he understood before Reinhard even had to speak. He spent an instant in thought, but then he answered:
“You don’t mind my leaving this to you?”
“All right by me. If they get the emperor back, we lose. Master Mogro makes that difficult. So…”
With that, Reinhard stepped in front of Julius. Mogro’s ability to travel underground, and thereby avoid Julius’s security web, was dangerous. There was no one better for pursuing a fleeing foe. Julius didn’t want to take his eyes off the metal creature.
But he would have to. Reinhard intended to buy time.
“I’ll leave you one of my Sprouts. Use it as a guide to get back to me… I sincerely hope you won’t erase it.”
“I wish you would simply say you just don’t like the idea of being separated from me.” Reinhard half smiled, and his face in profile showed not the slightest distress at having to take the rearguard.
His ease appeared to incense Groovy, who clicked his tongue loudly. “Pfah! You want a war with us anyway, Sword Saint. I’m done toyin’. I ain’t ever gonna be able to face my buddies again if we let you pricks just push us around!”
“I’m afraid there’s been a grave misunderstanding…but I don’t suppose you’re in any mood to listen.”
“Damn right I’m not! So what’s your plan, now that your little negotiations have failed?”
“To knock you down and make you listen to me.”
“You’ll die first!”
Both the thoroughly enraged Groovy and the preternaturally silent Mogro attacked Reinhard simultaneously. Groovy had his hatchets out again, while Mogro’s opening gambit was to dive into the earth, beginning the fight from underground. Reinhard charged forward to meet them.
Julius watched them exchange the first blows, then ran over to the emperor, who was simply standing by. He grabbed his arm. “Forgive my impertinence, Your Majesty! Ferris!”
“Huh? Wh-what? You sure Reinhard’s okay?”
“We have to trust him! The two of us need to get His Majesty out of here!”
Ferris was flustered, but he accepted the brief explanation with a nod and began to work his way deeper into the forest. Julius followed him at a run, pulling the emperor behind him.
“Hey, jackass! You can’t treat His Majesty like—!”
“Pardon me, but I don’t believe either of us can afford to turn our backs on the enemy.”
Groovy had been distracted by the fleeing trio, but Reinhard refused to allow Groovy to give chase. Alone, the Sword Saint held back the howling hyena-man and the relentlessly attacking Steelfolk. Reinhard being who he was, Julius sincerely doubted that anything would happen to him, but even so…
“Reinhard, stay alive!”
The knight still had to at least spare a few words for the friend he left alone on the battlefield.
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