Wortenia Senki (LN) - Volume 13 - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: For a Better Tomorrow

Four days had passed since Lione and Laura’s battle on the outskirts of Epirus, during which their army had remained locked in a stalemate with Epirus’s forces. At the same time, Ryoma Mikoshiba had reached Viscount Bahenna’s territory, southeast of Epirus.

It was past noon. The sun was beginning to dip into the west, but it was still casting its glow upon the earth. Based on its position, it was around four in the afternoon. Ryoma and his forces were currently camped out near a creek, taking their final break before the assault that evening. Given the distance they’d traveled, the horses were terribly fatigued.

Seated on a fairly large rock, Ryoma bit down on his portable rations. Viscount Bahenna’s territory was on the eastern tip of northern Rhoadseria. The national border with Myest was just a little further east. This was where Ryoma’s conquest of Epirus would truly begin.

“Just gotta wait for nightfall,” Ryoma whispered. His gaze was as cold as ice. He was prepared for what was about to come.

Sara, who sat at his side, was just as resolved.

Finally. It happens tonight.

Ryoma had gone to great lengths to prepare for this day. Tonight, they would raid one of the four villages in Viscount Bahenna’s domain. Besides the villages, there was also a large city that the viscount himself managed.

The village’s population was slightly over a hundred people. It was an ordinary hamlet off the highway and had no strategic value to speak of. It was also the smallest village in the viscount’s domain, so it had little importance in terms of tax yield and geopolitical influence.

Because of this, Viscount Bahenna had stationed only a small garrison of troops there. Based on the Igasaki clan’s preliminary investigation, there were ten or so soldiers, who couldn’t use thaumaturgy, and a single knight. This small garrison was better than nothing, but a force of this size was limited in what it could handle. If a large bandit group or a powerful monster were to attack, they’d be helpless to stop them. They might be able to stop weak monsters that even a neophyte adventurer could handle. As a military force, though, it was the smallest possible unit.

The reason the garrison was so small was because the viscount couldn’t defend every village in his domain to the same extent. Even if his army was for safeguarding the land, his budget wasn’t limitless. This was why the alliance of the ten houses of the north had been formed. That said, if he didn’t station at least one knight in every village and city, it would damage his position and authority as governor. This small force was Viscount Bahenna’s compromise between his duties and what he could actually manage.

Ryoma had five hundred cavaliers with him, so it was all the same whether the knight was in the village. Killing him would be the same as squishing an insect.

Ryoma’s victory was assured, but he wanted to avoid needless bloodshed. He needed to gain the ten houses of the north’s fortunes if he was to topple Epirus. This was part of his plan to defeat Count Salzberg, and the fewer casualties, the better.

Sara recalled their plan of attack, just as she had countless times since it was drafted. She continued to mull it over until they enacted it. She couldn’t afford to lose when her twin sister and Lione were fighting Count Salzberg’s forces on the frontlines. This battle would be the key to conquering Epirus.

We have to suppress this village as quickly as possible.

They had to minimize the casualties. She didn’t assume that they could avoid all loss of life, but they needed to do everything they could to kill as few villagers as possible. To do that, their soldiers would have to go to each house and suppress the citizens—to nip their rebellious spirit in the bud. All of this would affect what came after the war and the country Ryoma would create.

For a better tomorrow...

The night before the war, in the Wortenia Peninsula, Ryoma had shared the ideal he believed in with Laura and Sara. The moment he said it, bashfully scratching his head, Sara had felt grateful that this young man was her chosen master.

“Now, let’s take turns sleeping. We have a long night ahead of us,” Ryoma said to her.

They were planning to spend the night attacking Viscount Bahenna’s nearby village. Even with all their preparations, they would have to stay up the whole night.

They silently waited until night settled over the world...

♱

Eight hours later, Ryoma stood in front of the villagers rounded up in the city square.

“We’ve gathered everyone here, just like you asked,” the village headman said. He stepped up to face Ryoma, his expression strained with terror. The soldiers and the sole knight guarding the village followed him.

The soldiers and the knight were all solidly built. They were clearly well-trained, and they carried themselves well. However, they were all middle-aged. From a cursory glance, the youngest was approaching fifty, and the knight looked like he was pushing seventy.

He was probably reemployed as a police officer.

The term “seasoned veteran” had a pleasant ring to it, but a man this age had no business being on the front lines. Still, knights were the cornerstone of a village’s public order, and they were also the governor’s point of contact in that region. Even if he was useless in battle, he was still dispatched to act as the governor’s representative, a glorified, trumped-up title.

The old knight glared at Ryoma. “We’ve accepted all your demands! What are you going to do next?!” His face was contorted in anger, but no amount of shouting would shift the situation in his favor.

“My apologies, but I need you all to evacuate this village,” Ryoma said calmly. “However, you can take any and as much of your belongings as you can carry.”

Ryoma’s words and tone were polite, but his attitude left no room for argument.

His orders made the villagers around him begin to murmur.

“What is he saying?”

“Evacuate the village?”

“Are we being driven out of our homes?”

A storm of questions filled the air, and the atmosphere gradually turned turbulent. But Ryoma didn’t have the courtesy or the time to address their doubts.

“I’m sorry, but that’s already been decided. Your compliance isn’t a factor. You’re free to resist, but we’ll deal with you accordingly if you do.”

As if to stress his words, the cavaliers surrounding the villagers tensed and prepared themselves. Their threat was clear: resist, and your life is forfeit. The bloodlust in the air was enough to completely quash the villagers’s defiance. They realized Ryoma was serious.

“I give you ten minutes to return to your homes and pack up anything you can. Once those ten minutes pass, we will set fire to the village.”

Once Ryoma finished explaining, he turned his back on the villagers, signaling that he wasn’t open to negotiations.

“This is absurd. What is he?!” the village headman whispered. From his perspective, an army had suddenly come out of nowhere, waltzed into his village, and ordered them to evacuate and leave for the wilderness. It was incomprehensible.

None of the villagers budged. And this was exactly what Ryoma had been counting on. He needed them to make their way north before they calmed down and regained their bearings.

“I see you don’t quite understand your position yet,” Ryoma said.

Sara, who stood at his side, handed him a bow and a burning arrow. He drew the string like a crescent moon and fired the arrow at a nearby house. The arrow zoomed through the air like a comet and hit the house’s wooden roof. The moment it hit, the house caught fire. But though it was a wooden house, the flames didn’t spread very quickly.

The Igasaki clan’s work is as good as ever.

It was a cruel display, but Ryoma had to do it. If he merely sat by and did nothing, the villagers would regain their composure and start thinking rationally again. If they then decided to violently resist, it would be the worst-case scenario. This was why Ryoma had asked the Igasaki clan to prepare these fire arrows.

Crimson embers danced through the night air. For a moment, no one moved, but then one of the villagers ran to his house. As if he was the signal, the rest of the villagers did the same.

Before long, ten minutes had passed, and Ryoma ordered that the village be torched.

Ryoma and his cavaliers led the villagers to the forest north of the village. A tinge of red was seeping into the evening sky, a glow from the fire they had set at the village. It was probably reaching its peak right about now.

“Why did this happen?” murmured the village headman as he thought of his burning home.

All around him, the villagers stood rooted in place, looking up at the sky. Watching them pained Ryoma’s heart.

I’ll never get used to this, huh?

He knew it sounded hypocritical, but Ryoma could say with confidence that his actions would benefit these villagers—not that any of them would accept his assurances. He had shattered their peace and ruined their daily lives. From their perspective, he was nothing short of a bandit. He had marched into their village with five hundred cavaliers, torn them from their daily meal, gathered them in the village square, and coerced them into leaving their homes. He hadn’t pillaged them, which did distinguish him from a bandit, but he couldn’t expect them not to feel displeased and disgruntled. If he were in their shoes, he never would have stood for this, and he wouldn’t have forgiven the brute who’d launched such a terrible raid.

Ryoma could feel their hateful glares. If given the chance, some of the villagers would surely charge him and his men. The only reasons they didn’t were the cavaliers surrounding them and the women and children among them. They didn’t want to get them mixed up in the heat of battle.

Feeling the fearful but belligerent scowls of the villagers, Ryoma let out a small sigh. In modern Japan, one didn’t often feel hundreds of pairs of eyes staring at them with such hatred. Ryoma knew his actions were by no means commendable. The discomfort of the situation left him restless.

Still, I had to do this.

The villagers’ expressions were filled with terror. Children buried their faces in their mothers’ skirts as they wept. They wanted to scream and cry out, but they understood, in their own way, the danger it would bring.

Everyone was terrified. If Ryoma could have avoided it, he never would have put them through this. But he wouldn’t budge. He’d already decided to burn every village in the ten houses of the north’s domains. Whether his actions were good or bad, he had to do this. He couldn’t hesitate.

Ryoma had no intention of enacting needless violence, nor was he simply harassing the ten houses of the north. This was solely to topple the citadel city of Epirus and to secure the future he desired after the war.

Especially for the future...

Heavy taxation, unreasonable labor—these villagers spent their days scrambling for their livelihood. Why were they so poor? The answer to that was simple: they didn’t actually possess any land. The governors owned the lands they lived on. The villagers were just leasing it.

For example, the land this village lived on wasn’t inhospitable. It was surrounded by nature and greenery. Thanks to a nearby brook, it also had an abundance of water. An agricultural community could very easily live here self-sufficiently. But it wouldn’t be their land.

This village had originally been situated near a highway, but several years ago, the highways were restructured in order to bypass the nearby woods. This change had been devastating for the village, and its prosperity had declined ever since. The only people who visited were the tax magistrate, who came once a year, and adventurers collecting plants from the forest. Not even peddlers would visit. The village didn’t do much trade, and they didn’t have any special merchandise to sell.

Maybe if they had something to attract tourists, like a hot spring, things would be different. But the brook is about the only thing here.

If asked how to grow this village, even Ryoma would be stumped. The best option would be to migrate to a more developed city. But the village had no such prospects, and the villagers had nowhere else to live. They would have to spend the rest of their lives in this village.

There were many reasons they couldn’t relocate, but the biggest one was that they didn’t have the freedom to migrate. The circumstances were similar to those in Japan’s Edo period. Commoners weren’t accepted in any land except for the one they were born in. They were free to move into different homes within their cities or villages, but otherwise their movement was greatly restricted.

Strictly speaking, moving to another more affluent noble’s land wasn’t an option. In the case of a marriage or an inheritance, they would need to notify their governor, state their reason, and pay a considerable fine. Then they’d have to do the same in the land they were moving to. If they didn’t take these steps, their names would remain in the former noble’s family register, and they wouldn’t be registered in the new one’s.

Some commoners fled their governor’s tyranny, but they were treated as refugees—people unregistered in the census. In modern Japan, there were cases where a child hadn’t been registered because the parents hadn’t gone through the legal process for personal reasons. That child could still receive aid from nonprofit organizations, though, and public offices would still be willing to process them. People might gossip about the responsibility of not being in the family register, but public institutions wouldn’t cast them aside for it.

That’s not the case in this world, though.

A world with no concept of public welfare or human rights wasn’t hospitable to refugees. They were treated like non-existent ghosts. The only way a refugee could resolve this was to return to their homeland and go through the official procedure—even if a tyrannical governor ruled that land.

Some governors did care enough to protect refugees. But if a noble were to just accept commoners who’d drifted in from another territory, it could spark conflict with the other governors. Only a powerful noble could take in refugees and overrule the governor they’d fled from. That could still cause backlash from surrounding nobles, though. Even if a noble managed his people poorly, he still saw them as his rightful property. All nobles knew this, so they didn’t often take risks for mere commoners.

That left just one relatively safe path: prostitution. However, people in the underworld almost always ran those businesses. If one didn’t go through them to find work, they could easily get killed for encroaching on someone’s business. Besides, getting approval to work in someone else’s turf was honestly a matter of luck. And even if one did happen to get approved, the sly crooks of the underworld knew refugees had little options and would certainly take advantage of them. They would even sell them off to slavery if a chance presented itself.

Refugees could also become mercenaries or adventurers. The guild only needed their personal information, so it was easy to register with them. The staff would fill in the forms if they couldn’t write. But despite this, very few people could truly seek employment as mercenaries or adventurers.

Amateurs who’ve never held a sword in their lives can’t just become mercenaries in the blink of an eye.

Ryoma was a special case, but people who could make the transition from a peaceful life to those professions were incredibly rare. In other words, becoming a refugee was a difficult path.

As for this village, they couldn’t just move elsewhere and start a new village. Viscount Bahenna wouldn’t consent because his domain wasn’t large enough. His territory was average-sized, but the land actually fit for living was limited, and most of it was already settled. An entire village couldn’t move into one of those settlements either. It was bound to create friction with the existing residents.

Assuming they were lucky enough to somehow find land suitable for migration, no sane governor would permit it. Relocating would mean they’d be exempt from taxes until they’d built the same livelihood they had before. That would take a bite out of the governor’s personal income.

The sad truth was that the majority of nobles on this Earth weren’t interested in increasing the living standards of their subjects. The nobles were like an industry that made money off of managing a country’s land. Their objective was always to make profit; nothing else mattered to them.

However, only the most foolish of nobles would leave their commoners to suffer in the event of a natural disaster or a war. And any commoners living under such a noble would migrate without a second thought, no matter the risks involved. But unless said disaster or war impacted a village’s productivity, the governor would never approve a migration. It was similar to how a capitalist society pursued profit above all else. A governor would only tolerate a tax decrease if they ended up profiting from it in the long run, like building a new city to help secure a trade network.

Put that way, I can understand how some nobles resort to tyranny...

Ryoma had no desire to torment his subjects. In fact, by his standards, this was the sort of vile behavior that ought to be abolished. But if one were to look at it from a purely economical perspective, it was hard to say it was completely without merit.

Tyrannical governors didn’t act the way they did out of a sadistic desire to harass their subjects. Their actions weren’t a result of dubious morality, but a desire to make the most out of their land. They extorted their people for all they had, and once they had more people, they squeezed them for all they were worth too. In a way, they were the ultimate ecologists for using up all the human resources they had. This offered no comfort to the people they exploited, though.

“What are we to do now?” the village headman cried, still on his knees.

The old knight, who was seated next to him, patted him sympathetically on the shoulder.

What do we do now, indeed.

Ryoma approached the headman. He kneeled down and whispered into the old man’s ears, telling him the way they were to go.

At the time, Ryoma didn’t know that a shadow was approaching, traveling from the south, swift as the wind.

♱

Vector Chronicle spurred his horse forward as the moonlight and his lantern illuminated the dark road ahead. He rode hard, ignoring his aching body. After he had contracted Carrion disease, he’d never withstood such strain. His breathing was uneven, and he could feel his heart beating painfully in his chest. With each intake of breath, pain rushed through his body. Despite this, his elation pushed him to keep moving. His body was thick with both the scent of sweat and the fragrance of perfume, meant to mask the stench of his flesh as it rotted alive.

Following close behind Vector was the lieutenant who had served him since he was forced to take over as baron after his brother died. The knights of the Chronicle barony rode behind them.

“Lord Vector, I understand your impatience, but we really should take a break!” the lieutenant shouted at Vector’s back.

The lieutenant’s face was contorted with pain and exhaustion. It was quite unusual to see such a seasoned knight in this kind of state, but they had been riding for three days straight since they’d left the Chronicle barony. Vector had dismounted a total of eight times, but only when they stopped at roadside towns to exchange their horses.

Other than that, they’d galloped day and night, not even stopping to eat—chewing on combat rations while they rode. The only thing they had resembling a break was when the Lieutenant had ordered they slow to give the steeds a rest. Even then, Vector had strictly forbidden them from stopping altogether.

Few people would continue on such a demanding march. When Vector departed from his domain, a hundred knights had followed him. Now those numbers had dwindled to twenty. The infantry had abandoned the march on the first day. Since they had to run on their own, it was expected that they couldn’t keep up. Their stamina simply couldn’t last the journey. Most were simple grunts anyway, incapable of using martial thaumaturgy.

While the cavaliers did fare better than the infantry, they were also approaching the end of their ropes. Half of them had already turned around and left. Riding a horse wasn’t just straddling a saddle. The faster a horse went, the harder it shook its rider. Though stirrups helped, it took quite a bit of stamina to remain balanced on a horse and not fall off.

By modern standards, when a force had lost over half its soldiers, it was already considered routed. It was reckless, to say the least, to ride nonstop and deplete one’s soldiers. Even the knights who still followed Vector were nearly at or past their limits. Most wanted nothing more than to fall to the ground and finally get some rest.

The sole exception was Vector himself. His lieutenant’s suggestion was nothing but bothersome buzzing to his ears. From the moment he read Mikhail’s letter, Vector was prepared to throw his life away in the name of this mission.

“Forget me. If you can’t keep going, turn back and join me later!” Vector shouted back.

He’d already had this exchange countless times during the last few days. But his deputy and retainer couldn’t just accept his lord’s words and leave him. He couldn’t let a baron travel on his own, though they were taking a paved highway.

However, something happened that forced them to stop.

“The sky is...red?” Vector whispered, tightening his grip on the reins.

The sky above the forest to their right was a bright crimson, a sign that a fire was raging in that direction.

“Did a forest fire break out?” the lieutenant asked.

Vector narrowed his eyes pensively. A forest fire could easily be the cause, but...

The weather’s been fair the last few days, and it hasn’t been particularly dry either.

Lightning was the main cause of forest fires, but there were other causes, like a dry spell.

“I believe this area is within Viscount Bahenna’s domain?” Vector asked, suspicion brewing in his heart.

His lieutenant took out a map from his bag and inspected it. “Yes, it is,” he confirmed.

“Something feels wrong...” Vector murmured, turning his eyes to the east.

His lieutenant nodded. He likely felt the same way.

♱

Ryoma watched from behind as the villagers made their way north. They crossed the woods with all the belongings they could carry and made their way to Epirus.

I just hope they get there safely.

Ryoma knew the highways were relatively safe, but nothing was ever certain in this world. They could run into bandits or encounter monsters. The only thing he could do right now was pray that didn’t happen.

It was then that Ryoma heard a voice behind him.

“Milord, I come bearing a report.”

An Igasaki ninja he’d sent to scout the area appeared. His features were hidden behind a mask, but he had the voice of a middle-aged man.

“What is it?” Ryoma asked.

“There’s a group advancing this way from the south,” the ninja replied.

Ryoma’s expression darkened. Whoever this group was, they couldn’t have shown up at a worse time.

“How many are there?”

“Twenty, maybe less. All are on horseback.”

“Cavaliers...”

They’re probably travelers who noticed the forest burning. Or maybe they’re bandits looking for someone to rob.

There was a chance Viscount Bahenna’s vassals had caught wind of Ryoma’s raid and were pursuing. But if they knew someone had raided one of the villages, they wouldn’t send a mere twenty troops to handle the situation. If they had slipped past the Igasaki clan’s counterintelligence measures and leaked information about Ryoma’s raid, they’d also know that Ryoma had five hundred cavaliers with him.

Either way, we’ll need to intercept them.

Whoever these people were, Ryoma’s task remained the same. Nonetheless, he couldn’t let anyone know what had happened here—at least not yet.

“Sara, leave about fifty troops here and take the rest into the woods. If it’s an advance force, cut off their escape route.”

Sara nodded. She quickly divided the cavaliers and led a force into the woods.

Before long, the enemy cavaliers emerged from the trees. A floral aroma wafted up from somewhere.

It’s a traveling noble. But this smell...

The man riding at the head of the group was clearly dressed like a noble. Considering the armor and weapons his riders carried, Ryoma assumed his guess was accurate and this was a noble’s retinue. He didn’t recognize their banner, though.

Before Ryoma declared war on Count Salzberg, he had memorized the crests of the ten houses of the north, so he knew for sure it wasn’t one of them.

So, is this a coincidence...or not?

If this was a coincidence, the other force was just unlucky enough to run into Ryoma. But if this was deliberate, it could become a problem.

“Good evening,” Ryoma greeted in a friendly tone. “I’m Ryoma Mikoshiba, head of the Mikoshiba barony. Who might you be?”

For now, he needed to confirm who they were. But as soon as Ryoma said his name, the man’s glare filled with bloodlust.

“Mikoshiba? You’re Ryoma Mikoshiba?!” he asked, shouting with the obsessed hatred of a vengeful ghost.

At the sound of his howl, the knights behind him drew their swords.

“Lord Vector!” one knight called. He seemed to be the noble’s aide and lieutenant.

Well, shit. Just saying my name made everything go south.

Multiple sets of eyes glinted in his direction, burning with hostility. Normally, no one would regard their fellow man with this much antagonism unless they had a good reason.

Ryoma carefully observed the noble’s face.

I’m pretty sure I’m not going senile, so... I don’t think I’ve ever met this guy before.

He assumed that if he’d done something to earn this much ire from someone, he’d at least recognize them.

“Yes, I’m Ryoma Mikoshiba,” Ryoma said in an innocuous tone. “Who might you be?”

Ryoma remained as calm and reasonable as he could. He couldn’t cut the man down just for glaring at him, no matter how hateful his glare was.

Ryoma’s level-headed response seemed to fan Vector’s burning anger. He almost looked offended by it. He didn’t answer Ryoma’s question, instead pointing his blade at him. It was clear he’d attack without warning if the chance arose.

“I understand your plan! This fire... You burned the village, didn’t you?!”

“Wow. That’s a pretty rude thing to say to someone you just met. What are you basing your accusations on?” Ryoma asked, turning his eyes to the knight standing next to Vector. “I only came here because I saw the forest fire, and you’re just going to assume I burned a village based on nothing?”

Ryoma shrugged, as if to say he was offended by the accusation. Of course, the man’s suspicion was correct, but if Ryoma were to admit that, Vector’s men would definitely attack. Besides, Ryoma wouldn’t earn any information that way.

For now, I need to ask why he hates me so much.

In truth, Ryoma could think of countless reasons someone would hate him. He’d done plenty of detestable things to survive. When he was first summoned, he had tortured the O’ltormea Empire’s court thaumaturgist, Gaius Valkland, for information. He’d instructed the Igasaki clan to assassinate Wallace Heinkel and his family for getting him involved in the Rhoadserian civil war. He’d taken hundreds of lives with his own hands, and his plots and machinations had likely claimed the lives of over ten thousand people.

Someone could easily blame Ryoma and call him a mass murderer, even though circumstances had pushed him into that position. However, the cruel reality was that there were people in this world who were man-eating monsters that dwarfed Ryoma. Ryoma had to become a demon in his own right in order to survive, so he didn’t regret anything he had done. That was exactly why he wanted to know why this man hated him so much. He felt obligated to dignify the lives he’d take by remembering them and etching them into his heart.

Perhaps that emotion somehow got through to the enemy, because the man’s expression changed. Or maybe he was just eager to announce their grudge.

“Very well. Then I’ll introduce myself,” Vector said. He relaxed his stance and lowered his sword, but he didn’t sheathe it—a signal that he was still on guard. “My name is Baron Vector Chronicle. As representative of Queen Lupis Rhoadserians of Rhoadseria, I have come to stop the war between the Mikoshiba barony and the Salzberg countdom!”

“Huh?” Ryoma exclaimed in disbelief.

He wasn’t surprised at Vector’s unfamiliar name. Blood relations between nobles were complicated and convoluted. It wasn’t uncommon for cousins and even siblings to marry. Though Ryoma wasn’t familiar with the Chronicle barony, that didn’t mean he couldn’t have done something to incur their wrath.

Ryoma wasn’t surprised he was Queen Lupis’s representative either. He’d considered that something like this might happen. But the part he couldn’t fathom was why a messenger who claimed to have come to stop the war would draw their sword on him. Vector’s announcement was illogical. His actions clearly contradicted his words. It was like someone saying they wanted pasta, only to go to a pizza restaurant.

If he came here to stop the war, why is he trying to attack me?

That doubt swirled in Ryoma’s mind. A messenger attempting to establish an armistice wouldn’t be this aggressive toward him.

Something about this guy feels off...

Ryoma’s instincts told him that Vector was particularly dangerous.

“So Her Majesty sent you to stop the war? You mean, you’re here to arbitrate a cease-fire?” Ryoma asked, his tone growing suspicious.

“That’s right!” Vector said proudly, seemingly not noticing Ryoma’s dubious eyes.

It seemed Vector strongly believed he was doing the right thing. But the more brazen he became, the less Ryoma was inclined to believe him.

“Then I must apologize, but could you show me a letter or message signed with Her Majesty’s seal?”

Ryoma’s demand was perfectly reasonable. When a sovereign sent a messenger to one of their vassals, an accompanying letter was an accepted technicality. But Vector’s expression twisted in anger. In polite terms, he was a frank man. In reality, he was short-tempered. This was enough for Ryoma to understand why Vector Chronicle had come here. After all, this kind of impulsive frankness had already manipulated and troubled Ryoma plenty of times in the past.

Oh, I see...

Vector’s features were pallid and pale. Seeing that he was gasping for air, Ryoma quickly realized he was ill. The scent of perfume rising from his body felt too thick, almost sickening. But behind that fragrance, Ryoma could faintly smell decaying flesh.

“Baron Vector Chronicle, yes? Based on your expression, I’m assuming you don’t have a letter. So, whose orders are you following?” Ryoma asked, snorting in scorn.

It’s not a bad plan, but they picked the worst actor possible. This couldn’t even count as third-rate theater. It’s just a farce.

Without a letter, it didn’t matter if Vector really was a messenger from the queen. More troubling was that whoever had sent Vector knew their messenger could be killed, yet they had no qualms about sending him to die.

Even supposing Vector did have a letter, they were in the middle of a forest, without a third party to testify. It was the perfect situation for Ryoma to kill him and hide the corpse. No one would ever discover what had happened to him. Vector was so sure that he was in the right that he’d become foolhardy.

“It must have been Meltina or Mikhail, right?” Ryoma asked.

“W-Well...” Vector stammered. It was painfully clear who had sent him.

“Well, since you came all the way here, the least I can do is rise to the challenge and duel you,” Ryoma said, drawing Kikoku and holding it up in a lower-level posture. “I think that suits you better than playing the jester, doesn’t it?”

At that moment, a demonic howl sounded through the velvety darkness of night. But Vector was too driven and focused to hear either it or Ryoma’s question.

Vector held up his sword at eye-level. When he did, Ryoma realized he’d miscalculated. The way Vector handled his blade was as intense as a storm. He was fully prepared to die, and for a moment it overwhelmed Ryoma.

This pressure... He’s... I guess he’s not just a bold fool.

Ryoma had indeed underestimated his opponent. Vector had shown himself to be thoughtless, almost embarrassingly so. If his intent was to fool Ryoma, he should have done a better job. However, the way Vector held his sword proved he was genuinely skilled. His technique wasn’t something one could master easily. It was the product of both decades of devoted training and natural talent.

All the muscles in Vector’s body were fully relaxed, like a bow string waiting to be released. The pressure he exhibited contrasted with that and alerted Ryoma to his strength. He was a match for, if not stronger than, Greg Moore, whom Ryoma had dueled in the battle for the Notis Plains.

Well, shit. I put my foot in my mouth, didn’t I?

Ryoma cursed his miscalculation. He hadn’t expected him to be this skilled. But the chance for a surprise attack had already passed. If Ryoma were to signal his soldiers to move in now, Vector would sever his head before they could do anything. He wouldn’t be able to keep Vector in check using the weapons hidden on his body either. Tricks wouldn’t work at this point.

Everyone held their breaths in suspense.

Things aren’t looking good here...

Ryoma raised his blade and took an overhead stance. To avoid being overwhelmed, he’d assumed a stance that discarded defense and instead focused on a direct, one-on-one duel.

In response, Vector let out a howling battle cry, using all the prana remaining in his body to reinforce himself.

Ryoma and Vector stood thirty feet apart, but little by little they closed the gap. Suddenly, Ryoma let out an animalistic roar, swinging Kikoku down in a diagonal slash. It was a simple, powerful blow, without any tricks or tactics behind it.

Vector met his attack by remaining completely still. His stance didn’t break one bit. His entire body was screaming in pain already, but that kept his heart calm and collected. The next moment, Vector thrust the tip of his blade toward Ryoma’s throat, focusing all his force into that single motion.

It was a powerful attack, executed with ungodly speed. Had his friend Mikhail seen it, he would have praised it as the single most impressive attack Vector had ever accomplished.

However, Ryoma had predicted that move. He tilted his head slightly and avoided the blade.

He really did go for the throat.

Based on the positioning of Vector’s limbs, Ryoma got a rough idea of how Vector would attack. Ryoma was skilled enough to make that kind of educated guess, but Vector’s attack had somewhat exceeded Ryoma’s expectations.

Heat burned throughout Ryoma’s body, like a soldering iron against his skin. It was a heat Ryoma had been familiar with since infancy. Ignoring it, he swung Kikoku down at Vector’s right shoulder, believing in the swordsmanship he had devoted his life to.

♱

Vector Chronicle felt something gushing out of his body. He could see it spraying on the ground. It didn’t feel unpleasant, however. The pain that had tormented him ever since he’d contracted Carrion disease was fading away.

I’m dying...

Vector Chronicle was indeed withering away. He was like a candle on the verge of flickering out. This one final moment was perhaps the climax of his life.

I’d hoped I’d have a chance to strike him down...but I didn’t make it.

Ever since Vector had read Mikhail’s letter, he had harbored this desire within his heart. He’d heard rumors of Ryoma Mikoshiba’s crafty, cruel nature before. Even though it was just hearsay, Vector didn’t expect a straightforward, pigheaded man like himself could fool a strategist like Ryoma. Even if he had managed to do that, he didn’t think the conclusion Mikhail and Meltina wished for would come to pass.

And if that’s the case...

Basically, Vector had forced Ryoma Mikoshiba into shooting the messenger. He wasn’t suicidal, but Ryoma had slain Kael Iruna, a man equal to himself and Mikhail. Vector wasn’t so overconfident that he expected to beat such a skilled man, at least not with his body crippled by disease.

He’d told Mikhail and Meltina that he would gladly assume the role of messenger, and he’d honestly meant it. If he must die, let his death be of use to someone.

“Lord Mikoshiba...” Vector uttered. “One day, let us once again...”

Those were the final words of a knight who’d laid down his life for the Kingdom of Rhoadseria. Ryoma, feeling a warm liquid splash on his cheek, remained still, listening to his final soliloquy.