Wortenia Senki (LN) - Volume 13 - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Swarm of Locusts

After Ryoma Mikoshiba had declared war, the results of the battles outside of Epirus had exceeded the expectations of many. At first, everyone had believed that the ten houses of the north would defeat Ryoma’s army, but no one expected them to lose with nothing to show for it. It wasn’t just the Rhoadserian nobles, with their sense of privilege, who’d thought that either. The surrounding countries, such as Myest, had also believed they would crush Ryoma’s army without much resistance.

There were several reasons everyone had thought this, but the main reason was the characteristics of Ryoma’s domain. Ryoma governed the Wortenia Peninsula, an unpopulated land, and he hadn’t governed it for very long. However, they were well aware of the economical value Wortenia held. The trade pact with Queen Grindiana Helnescharles of Helnesgoula and the three kingdoms of the east had skyrocketed the land’s financial significance. Unfortunately, everyone placed more significance on tax revenue as the primary source of income. Because of that, very few people realized the true value of the peninsula.

On top of that, Ryoma Mikoshiba wasn’t even a citizen of Rhoadseria. He was also a commoner. His background was problematic. Helena Steiner was a commoner who’d risen to the rank of general. The precedent she’d set meant that even Ryoma, a mere commoner, could become a governor. But his status as both a foreigner and a commoner made his promotion that much more controversial.

Ryoma had liberated slaves as a means of overcoming his limitations, but everyone had seen that as a hasty stopgap measure. They hadn’t believed that Ryoma could beat Count Salzberg. But despite the negative speculation of everyone around him, ten days had passed since the fighting began outside Epirus, and the two sides were still locked in a stalemate.

In the heart of Epirus was Count Salzberg’s estate. In one of its rooms, an angry shout shook the air.

“Every last one of those idiots, saying whatever they pleased!” Robert howled, his face red as he thought back to the meeting he’d just attended. Young fools with hardly any combat experience and cowards who bought their military exploits with coin had spent the whole meeting brutally criticizing the war’s progress.

Unlike the other nobles, Robert and Signus weren’t the heads of their families, nor would they inherit that title. Because of this, the other nobles had heavily criticized them. That much was to be expected. Even their own blood relatives treated them that way. But the constant stream of heartless, disparaging insults had stirred up Robert’s anger and annoyance. They had mocked him many times for his status as a second son who’d never inherit the headship of his house.

Signus had also been forced to tolerate countless remarks about whether he even had Baron Galveria’s blood running through his veins. In truth, he was just as annoyed as Robert was, if not more. His anger was inching into bloodlust. But even though most of their insults were groundless accusations, some of the things they’d said couldn’t be written off as baseless slander.

It pisses me off to admit it, but they did get the best of us on the first two days.

Since they’d adopted a wait-and-see approach on the first day to gauge the enemy’s strength, Cidney O’Donnell, whom Robert’s father had sent to watch Robert, had perished in the fighting. After that, Robert and Signus had attacked the enemy lines, but their accomplishments in that battle were negligible.

Thanks to that, many were of the opinion that this battle had ended in a loss for the ten houses. There were also suspicions that Robert had been involved with Cidney’s death, since he was known to dislike him. Of course, Robert hadn’t had any hand in it, but it certainly seemed a possibility.

Both Robert and Signus wished people wouldn’t count Cidney’s demise as a factor in their defeat. But they had to keep that desire to themselves. Even with Count Salzberg backing them, Baron Bertrand wouldn’t sit idly by if he found out Robert had intentionally left his vassal to die. And Signus would be criticized for allowing him to do it.

On the second day of fighting, Lione’s ploy with her heavy infantry had resulted in the loss of the ten houses’ large force of cavaliers. That battle was definitely a loss for them, and Robert had to accept any criticism levied at him for that defeat. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t annoyed by the members of the ten houses running their mouths.

Still, we need to shut them up somehow, and soon.

Count Salzberg’s estate was functioning as a lodge for the heads of the ten houses and their heirs. It was a large estate, and Count Salzberg’s wife, Lady Yulia, had allotted the rooms so as to avoid any conflict. Still, someone could be listening in, so Robert couldn’t talk for fear of being overheard.

“Hey, calm down already. Shouting won’t make this better,” Signus said as he reached for a glass sitting on the table. “Here, this is some of the count’s finest wine. Costs ten gold a bottle, and it tastes like it too. Just sit down and enjoy it for now.”

Signus tilted the glass casually toward Robert and then took a sniff. He really was intent on enjoying this fine wine. The strong aroma filled his nostrils, and he took a small sip. It had a rich, moderate sourness to it, and a natural bitterness that spread over the tongue in a perfect balance.

At that moment, Signus felt truly pleased and satisfied. A low-ranking noble, and a sixth son at that, would normally never get to experience a flavor like this. But Robert lashed out at him in anger.

“Why the hell are you just sitting there and relaxing?! At this rate, you’ll be in trouble too! And it’s all because those brainless idiots won’t keep their mouths shut!”

Robert growled at Signus like an animal and slammed his large fist on the table. He stood over two meters tall, and his body had been tempered by countless battles. Even this table, built from firm evergreen oak, snapped under the force of his fist. The glass and ceramic plates fell to the floor and shattered with ear-splitting screeches. A red stain spread over the carpet, and the rich scent of wine filled the room.

Robert’s shoulders rose and fell with each breath, and he stared at Signus with bloodshot eyes. But Signus simply shook his head.

“I swear. Why do you always have to do the most pointless things? People like us don’t really get the chance to enjoy this kind of wine. You just wasted a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity,” Signus said regretfully as he brought the glass in his hands to his lips.

It seemed what mattered most to Signus at the moment was enjoying the wine. A bit surprised—if not exasperated—by Signus’s attitude, Robert quieted his heart. He took a deep breath and then exhaled.

“Just looking at your indifferent mug makes me feel dumb for getting this mad,” he said.

“All the side dishes are gone now, but we still have this wine from the count. You gonna try it?”

Signus approached a nearby shelf and took out a bottle of sealed wine, pouring a glass for Robert.

“Yeah, I’ll take it,” Robert relented, accepting the glass and smelling its fragrance. “It smells good, yeah.”

This seemed to calm Robert down somewhat. It was said that a good meal was all it took to put a man in a good mood, and it seemed this counted for fine wine too.

“You calmed down now?” Signus asked.

“Yeah. Sorry,” Robert replied, averting his gaze awkwardly. He knew his behavior was shameful.

“Besides, we’re in the count’s estate,” Signus added, glaring at Robert. “Even if we do have our men keeping people away from us, that was careless of you.” Indeed, the things Robert had said were very dangerous. “But I’ll admit that if you hadn’t started shouting at those idiots, I’d have stuck my sword down their throat.”

Signus’s sudden, uncharacteristic remark rendered Robert speechless. “You’d have...what?” he eventually croaked out, cracking an amused smile.

Signus laughed merrily. “I mean, wouldn’t I? Anything that pissed you off would make me angry too, right? But if we both lash out at them, we’ll lose this war altogether. Even the count’s having trouble holding back the enemy while also managing them.”

Everyone saw Signus as the more reasonable of the Twin Blades, the one who held the reins on Robert’s unruly nature. But in truth, he was just as belligerent and battle-crazed as his partner. He had to be. If he weren’t, he wouldn’t have taken the role of a vanguard who charged the enemy while doubling as a commander. He wasn’t the type to talk things over; he was more likely to go for the kill.

There was only one reason Signus hadn’t resorted to force then. Killing the heads of the ten houses or their heirs would have, without question, resulted in both of their executions. Signus had no intention of exchanging his own precious life for the worthless lives of those swine.

“They piss me off, but we need their soldiers to win this war. You can understand that, right, Robert?”

“Yeah. Just from the last few days, it’s clear Mikoshiba’s army has the edge in gear and the quality of their soldiers. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself, but...”

“Yeah, same here.” Signus sighed, a tired smile on his lips. “I don’t know what he did to make his soldiers that strong. Wish I could ask him, actually.”

The enemy had exceptional fighting spirit and high-quality gear. Not only were they disciplined when fighting as a group, but each individual soldier was considerably skilled. They’d met Robert and Signus’s charge head-on without breaking their lines, and they’d even managed to counterattack. The enemy army was both spirited and organized—a real, tangible threat.

“Are numbers really all we have on our side?” Robert asked.

Signus smiled sardonically. He couldn’t be certain, but he replied, “I think so. I’d say they’ve got a six to four advantage over us. Still, they lost a number of troops during our battles, and they hardly have a thousand troops left today. We still have two thousand. If we just stay in Epirus and hold a siege battle, we shouldn’t lose. Sitting tight and coming up with a plan might be a good option. At worst...”

“We could ask for reinforcements,” Robert finished.

The ten houses had left several dozen knights to govern their domains in their absence. If things got bad enough, they could pull those knights away from their duty to serve as temporary reinforcements. Or they could conscript their commoners as a last resort. They could also hire mercenaries. Their quality and proficiency weren’t great, but relying on quantity was a viable strategy.

“But with internal affairs as unstable as they are, who knows what might happen if the ten houses leave their domains unmanaged,” Signus added.

They might win this war, but if their commoners rose up in revolt, all of their efforts would have been for nothing. Not to mention, Rhoadseria’s current state made the bandits more rampant and daring, and with no one to hold them at bay, they could inflict serious damages. Focusing on governing one’s domain rather than going to war would be the correct course of action at a time like this.

Still, they can’t pull back now. Though I guess if Mikoshiba wanted to end this quickly, we could bargain with him.

Each of the ten houses had entered this war because of their interest in the Wortenia Peninsula. A truce now would leave a large hole in the houses’ pockets, and it would also incur Count Salzberg’s wrath. No matter how this war ended, they would need to make some kind of compromise with the Mikoshiba barony.

“Well, either way, we won’t lose so long as we have Epirus,” Robert stated. “The count knows that; that’s why he didn’t say anything during that meeting. And he basically let the nobles use us as punching bags!”

Robert gulped down the wine in his glass. Even now, they placed their trust in Epirus’s tall walls and deep moats.

At least they had, until the moment they heard someone urgently knocking on their door.

♱

Ten minutes before Signus and Robert heard the knock on their door, a sentry on late-night guard duty noticed a disturbance from his station in the watchtower.

“Hey, is it just me, or can you see something strange out there?”

Perhaps his intuition cultivated by his long years as a soldier had alerted him to it. Or maybe it was a more basic, animalistic instinct. Whichever it was, the man’s suspicion was justified. The other soldiers on duty looked out from over the walls and began murmuring.

“The enemy went around to march in from the south. Cheeky bastards. I guess that upstart noble has to be good at petty tricks, eh?” one of the soldiers said jokingly.

A few of the others hummed in agreement, but one cautious soldier shook his head.

“Yeah, but there’s something in the air today. I’m getting a bad feeling here...”

He squinted, trying to peer through the darkness. The moon was quite fair that night, but now it was covered by clouds, and its pale rays didn’t quite reach the ground. The soldier couldn’t see what was coming yet, but he did feel an inexplicable sense of foreboding. It was like a chill running through his skin, trying to alert him of something ominous to come.

This soldier’s intuition, which he’d built through years of fighting, was substantial. Such intuition was the sum of one’s experience unconsciously guiding them to the answer. There was no logic to it, and it couldn’t be explained with words, but it was by no means baseless drivel.

“This...could be a night raid,” the sentry said. “Someone call the captain over, just to be safe.”

One of the other soldiers nodded and hurried to the guard room.

The sentry wasn’t sure what was happening yet. If his prediction was off, the captain would surely rake him over the coals for this blunder. He could be punished with extended guard duty too. But if he were to fail to notice a night raid, his head would quite literally be on the chopping block.

“Dammit, it’s too dark to make anything out.”

“But there’s definitely something there...”

There were watch fires on the walls, but their light had a very limited range. They could see what was directly beneath them, but anything standing a few feet away was still shrouded in darkness. Nonetheless, they could feel some sort of presence in the dark. And as the moonlight spilled from a gap among the clouds, they finally saw what it was.

“What’s that? Are those enemies?” one of the soldiers asked, pointing toward the woods in the distance.

It was a small black stain, difficult to make out from afar without straining one’s eyes. As the soldiers all gazed at it, little by little, it took on a distinct shape.

“No, that doesn’t look like soldiers. I guess it’s not a night raid, but...what is this, then?”

It was people. Dozens of people. Hundreds of people. More than they could count. They moved in a disorderly fashion, with no one leading or organizing them. This made it clear that they weren’t soldiers.

“But even if they’re not soldiers, there’s just...too many of them. What is this?” one of the sentries asked, his expression contorting.

The people formed a line that extended from the woods. There weren’t just hundreds of them, but thousands—possibly even ten thousand.

“What in the blasted hell? There’s so many of them. They’re filling up the highway.”

The sight of so many people silently walking along the road to Epirus filled the soldiers’ hearts with fear. But their attention was suddenly drawn to the sound of a horse galloping. A single messenger rode through the darkness. The soldiers’ gazes gathered on him, illuminated by the watch fires.

He stopped in front of the gate and shouted, “Open the gates! Open the gates! I’m a servant of Viscount Eringland! I come bearing an urgent message from my lord! Open the gates!”

The soldiers exchanged looks.

“Viscount Eringland? That’s one of the ten houses of the north, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I think their heir is here in Epirus right now.”

“An urgent message from the viscount? That’s important.”

Normally, the city gates remained locked during the night and only opened at dawn. It was basically forbidden to enter the city at night, a rule maintained across all cities on the continent. There were exceptions to that rule, though. The gates could be opened in case of emergencies like bandit raids or monster attacks. But this time, there was another reason the gates were shut—the war with the Mikoshiba barony.

The enemy’s camp was a good distance away, but not far enough to discredit the possibility of them trying to sneak in under the cover of darkness. And the figures emerging from the forest were definitely heading toward Epirus.

Should the soldiers usher them in or force them to turn back? That question weighed on them, but being common soldiers, they didn’t know if they could make that call. They could only hope their superior officer would appear soon and resolve the issue. All the while, they listened to the messenger’s calls, begging them to open the gates.

♱

A man called out to the two girls walking by his sides. They both had tears in their eyes. The bags on their backs were digging into their shoulders. Their bodies were used to working in the fields, but after days of walking, their legs were beginning to buckle under the strain. Despite this, the man tried his hardest to smile for his daughters. He knew that if he didn’t, it would just drum up more fear in their hearts.

“Just a little longer. We’re almost to Epirus. I know it’s hard, but just bear with it a little longer.”

They nodded and continued their march, ignoring their aching legs.

In truth, even walking felt like a laborious task now. They’d probably already begged their father to carry them. Yet even though they were so young, they naturally understood that no amount of crying would achieve anything. There were other people around, yes, but they were in no position to help their fellow man. They had their hands full taking care of themselves and their families. No one would care for a young girl’s weeping. It was the same as how those girls and their parents had coldly disregarded strangers on the way here.

There was only one way to survive in this situation: force one’s legs forward and make way to Epirus.

“It’ll work out. Once we get to Epirus, we’ll manage. It should be just past the woods, so be patient for just a little longer.”

Before long, they emerged from the woods, and the imposing contours of Epirus surfaced in the dark of night. The man pulled on his daughters’ hands, repeating the same words over and over, knowing all the while that doing so was nothing more than consolation. 

The clear, unclouded sky spanned as far as the eye could see. Sunlight enveloped the ground, and the occasional breeze calmed their hearts. Such mornings felt rare this year, and in most cases, people would rejoice at such fine weather. Sadly, the world was not fair to everyone. Though the weather’s graces extended to one and all, the same could not be said of other forms of fortune. And the citadel city of Epirus was now overflowing with such unfortunate folk, incapable of appreciating the fine weather.

♱

A group of soldiers on horseback, clad in polished white armor, moved along Epirus’s paved main street. The people around them regarded them with resignation and disgruntlement, their dark gazes full of deep-seated anger. It was how an abused, overworked slave might glare at their master.

“This is pretty horrible. Is it the same everywhere else?” Robert asked one of the knights at his side, his face contorted from the stench of excrement and sweat.

His voice was surprisingly feeble, a weakness one wouldn’t normally expect out of a man like Robert. But anyone would feel the same if they were to look at these people. Robert was, in fact, taking it better than most. The young knights at his side were faring much worse.

“No. I’m sad to say it, but it’s actually much worse in other streets,” the knight replied with a sigh. “We frequently patrol the main streets, so it helps maintain the peace. However, closer to the walls or in the back alleys, things are terrible. And it’s worse than that outside the gates. It’s hell out there.”

As he spoke, the knight looked around cautiously as if he were in the middle of enemy territory. He’d hardly gotten any sleep the last few days, and he had bags under eyes.

What a headache. This is what it looks like when we’re keeping the peace? I guess it makes sense. Guess that’s how the war’s been influencing the country.

The general opinion was that as long as Count Salzberg held onto Epirus and drew the war out, they could win in the long run. Normally, the defending side in a siege had an overwhelming advantage. In fact, Epirus had the history to back up that claim. It once withstood a siege of fifty thousand men with countless weapons in a war against Myest. Unfortunately, this time, things were different.

It had all changed when the first group of refugees had appeared on the outskirts of Epirus two weeks ago. All of a sudden, there had been shouting at the city gates. Disputes had broken out between the refugees and the city’s residents. Robert had wordlessly ordered the knights behind him to act.

I’ll need to discuss what to do about this situation with Signus, huh?

Robert wasn’t happy about having to fight in this war to begin with. He sighed and looked up to the count’s estate standing behind him.

♱

“And that’s why, Count Salzberg, I’m asking you to let my people into Epirus,” Viscount Bahenna said, repeatedly slapping his hand on the table. “Leaving them outside the south gate like this is too cruel. Don’t you agree?”

Given the viscount’s rank as a noble, he was acting quite inappropriately. The fact that he was willing to go this far was proof of his desperation. His face was red and twisted with anger, and he completely disregarded any notions of etiquette and decorum.

Seeing him like that, Count Salzberg sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

“I agree. It’s cruel. I can relate to how you feel, Viscount Bahenna. But do understand that though Epirus is the biggest city in northern Rhoadseria, there is a limit to how many people it can accommodate.”

Viscount Bahenna leaned forward. He understood what the count was saying, and that was exactly why he was asking him to let his people into the city instead of the other nobles’ subjects.

“I only have several thousand subjects. I’m sure you can find a place for them if you try.”

The viscount’s reasoning was sound; the city could accommodate a few thousand more refugees. But Count Salzberg had no intention of meeting Viscount Bahenna’s demands. Or rather, regardless of his intentions, the count couldn’t accept them. And so he repeated the same words he’d spoken countless times already today.

“Right now, we’re in the middle of a war with Baron Mikoshiba and his army. They haven’t made a move for the last ten days, but that doesn’t mean we can be careless. We need to preserve all the food we can at the moment.”

Viscount Bahenna scoffed. There wasn’t any hint of his usual self-deprecating attitude. He glared at Count Salzberg with the madness of a man backed against the wall.

“Yes, what you say makes sense, Count Salzberg. But as governor, I can’t leave my people to starve. It would besmirch my honor. My house has been loyally serving you for many years. I ask that you take that into consideration.”

The two nobles glared at each other from across the table. Neither were willing to back down, but they didn’t want to resort to military threats either.

Viscount Bahenna was the first to look away. “Very well. I’ll withdraw for today. But I do ask that you keep what I said in mind.”

Viscount Bahenna realized that being any more forceful would be dangerous. He bowed his head, as if to apologize for his discourteous conduct, and left the room.

“Fool. Using his people’s well-being as an excuse. Do you think I can’t see what you’re really after?” Count Salzberg whispered angrily.

As sound as Viscount Bahenna’s claims were, there was an agenda behind them, and Count Salzberg had realized what it was. He sighed heavily and sank back in his chair. After a moment, he reached for a bell resting on the table and summoned a maid, who entered the room silently a moment later.

“Call Robert and Signus,” he ordered sharply. “Tell them it’s urgent.”

As she left, Count Salzberg closed his eyes, hoping that a way to break through the worsening state of this war might occur to him.

♱

As soon as Signus and Robert entered the room, Count Salzberg went straight to business and said, “So, what are you going to do?”

This was how a master spoke to his vassals. There was a vast difference in rank between a count and the second son of a baron, to say nothing of a bastard sixth son. It wasn’t rude of him to skip the pleasantries and stick to business. It did come across as arrogant, however. Not to mention, it was quite unlike Count Salzberg’s usual demeanor. He normally treated them with respect and courtesy in recognition of their prowess, even as their own families mocked them. It was strange for him to act so curt.

I guess he feels so cornered that he’s given up on that facade. Still...

Signus’s heart couldn’t help but tremble in anger at Count Salzberg’s attitude. He felt like the count had betrayed the trust and respect that Signus held for him. Still, he could understand how Count Salzberg must have been feeling, the situation being what it was.

What should have been an easily won campaign had, at some point, turned into a drawn out war with no end in sight. It made sense the count would let slip his true nature, the one he’d kept hidden until now. But even if the logical part of Signus’s brain could understand that, his heart didn’t want to admit it.

Stay calm. We’re in the middle of a war here. Feuding over worthless pride will only make things worse.

Signus suppressed his anger and signaled to Robert with his eyes. He could tell Robert’s hands were shaking.

Count Salzberg glared at the two of them. “I’m asking you one more time. What are you going to do next?”

Signus exchanged glances with Robert.

No point in lying. Might as well just speak the truth.

Count Salzberg wasn’t going to like this proposal, but as commanders, they had to say it.

Signus lowered his gaze and said, “I think the safest thing would be to call for an early cease-fire.”

Just a few weeks ago, anyone would have scoffed at this idea. But in the current situation, it was a valid option.

I never thought Ryoma would use the commoners as a weapon against us.

Count Salzberg’s stronghold, the citadel city of Epirus, was a symbol of both northern Rhoadseria and national defense. It was an impregnable fortress. Learning from his predecessors, Count Salzberg had taken great care to keep a large supply of food and weapons in his city. When this war started, he’d gathered even more supplies. After all, even the best equipped army still marched on its stomach. Maintaining a line of supplies was crucial and one of the basics of commanding an army. Yet despite Count Salzberg’s meticulous preparations, Epirus was currently lacking both food and provisions.

What had caused this change in such a short period of time? It was the countless refugees knocking on Epirus’s gates and waiting to be allowed into the city. They’d come from the villages and towns of northern Rhoadseria. They had cast aside their homes and their livelihoods and traveled to Epirus in search of refuge.

What was assumed to be a detachment of Baron Mikoshiba’s army had raided their villages and forced them to leave. Since most of the nobles’ knights had already been relegated to the war, very few soldiers were left to defend the home front. They had allotted some troops to handle bandit raids or monster attacks, but none of the nobles had left a garrison that could fight off an army with hundreds of knights. And the enemy had taken advantage of that. They had gone through the ten houses’ territories to the south of Epirus, laying waste to villages and towns.

With their homes destroyed, the people had nowhere to go, so they looked to Epirus for refuge. Perhaps they knew their governors were there. Or maybe the enemy general, Ryoma Mikoshiba, had suggested it. The headman of one of Viscount Bahenna’s villages, the one they presumed had been destroyed first, testified as much.

Signus suspected that it was indeed the truth.

Otherwise, things wouldn’t have turned out like this.

The villagers had all been forced to leave their land with what little they could carry. Now they stood in the tens of thousands outside of Epirus, demanding the protection of the strongest governor in the area—Count Salzberg.

From their perspective, they’d had no other choice. All the villages and towns of the other ten houses had burned down just the same, so seeking refuge in the one city that had remained firm seemed like the only option. As the alliance leader of the ten houses of the north, Count Salzberg certainly had a duty to protect them. But the problem was that there were simply too many refugees. For as large as Epirus was, it wasn’t nearly large enough to feed and accommodate the entirety of the north’s population within its walls.

Should we have gone and tried to stomp out the detachment, despite the risks?

When the refugees appeared in Epirus, they’d told Count Salzberg of the situation. The Twin Blades had certainly considered going out to attack the raiding party, but the enemy had led nearly a thousand knights against Epirus, and the Twin Blades had lost the majority of their cavaliers on the second day of fighting. They had abandoned the idea since they couldn’t reliably stop the enemy’s interference. This had allowed Ryoma and his raiding party to run rampant across northern Rhoadseria. Because of that, Epirus now had tens of thousands of refugees knocking at its door.

The ten houses of the north were furious, since it was Robert and Signus who’d stopped them from returning to their domains. In addition, the Twin Blades had lost the first two battles, so the nobles had criticized them at every turn since. If Count Salzberg hadn’t kept them in check, they might have had the Twin Blades executed by now. But if they’d tried, Robert and Signus would have resisted, and Count Salzberg’s estate would have turned into the scene of a massacre. But because Count Salzberg had protected the Twin Blades, the rift between the count and the other nobles had deepened. It was clear to everyone that the most desirable course of action was to seek a cease-fire.

Count Salzberg, however, scoffed at Signus’s suggestion. “Hogwash. Yes, the war may have gone in unexpected directions so far, but that doesn’t mean we’re at a disadvantage. We have more troops than they do, and we’re not hurting for supplies either.”

Signus shook his head, his expression grave.

That’s what I thought you’d say.

Count Salzberg’s answer was predictable. He knew a cease-fire was the safest option, but it would mean casting aside his pride. It would mean begging an upstart noble like Ryoma for mercy. Any negotiations between them would force him to discard his title as the alliance leader of the north and surrender to the Mikoshiba barony. Thomas Salzberg, head of the Salzberg house, would never, ever tolerate that.

Signus carried on, though he knew it was useless, because it was his responsibility as a military commander.

“We do have the advantage. Nevertheless, if this war continues, I believe it would be very difficult to win. The enemy is intent on killing us. They’re probably on the defensive and waiting for us to launch an attack, just so they could halt our attempt. And I’m not sure we’ll be able to break through as things stand.”

Signus then turned to Robert, who was standing beside him. “Robert, what do you think?”

“I launched an attack on them yesterday, but they’re well organized,” Robert explained. “They’re as firm as one of the kingdom’s knight orders, even. Their equipment is good too, and they were able to block our charge. I’d love nothing more than to fight them, but...”

Robert shrugged. Fighting them was a thrilling gamble, and normally he would have gone for it, but not when his life was the bargaining chip and the odds were this uncertain.

“It’s probably impossible to beat them in battle now, when the ten houses are this disoriented,” Robert added.

Count Salzberg sighed and shook his head. Everyone was dissatisfied with this, and the situation greatly limited the count’s options as the alliance leader.

“Yes, they’re disoriented. And Baron Mikoshiba was crafty enough to take advantage of that.”

Epirus was currently abuzz with countless concerns, making it impossible to effectively control the place. For starters, the city’s residents and the refugees were constantly feuding. The residents thought the filthy refugees were an eyesore and a nuisance. Even though the city’s granaries were full, the food supply wasn’t bottomless. And there was a shortage of housing to accommodate the refugees. The residents would argue with them about anything, from the watering holes to the food rations.

Of course, not all the residents disliked the refugees. Some had handed out food and clothes at the beginning. But the sheer number of refugees that flooded the city had crushed those small acts of kindness. For instance, an old couple had gone through the streets with a large pot of soup, intent on filling the bellies of many refugees. They had done it strictly out of good will. But their pot of soup couldn’t feed all the refugees in the city.

The couple had been content with doing what they could. In their eyes, doing something, no matter how small, was better than doing nothing. They’d just wanted to help as many as they could. Sadly, only the old couple had seen it that way.

Any person staving off hunger who saw them giving away food would beg for some too. And how would that person feel if, when it was their turn to get a serving, they were told there was no food left to give? The correct response would be to thank the old couple for their charity and walk away. But ethical thought crumbled in the face of starvation.

The angry refugees had eventually lynched that kind old couple. If you couldn’t save everyone, perhaps it was best to avoid raising their expectations and giving them false hope.

Cases like that had happened all over Epirus the last few days, so it was understandable that the city’s residents were wary of the refugees. But that only applied to the refugees lucky enough to get inside the city’s walls. Many more were clamoring outside the city at the southern gate.

Count Salzberg’s favor hardly extended outside the city, and the governors had been approaching him every day on behalf of their people. The refugees inside the walls received at least a small amount of food, while those outside were forced to sleep hungry on the cold earth. The disparity was a recipe for discontent.

Neither the refugees nor their governors could stand for this. Even the nobles who only saw their commoners as tools knew they had to look after them when the situation called for it. But no matter how much the heads of the ten houses pleaded with him, Count Salzberg couldn’t change his decision to keep the refugees out. Water and food were finite resources, and their supply chain wasn’t fast enough to keep up with this kind of demand. Count Salzberg was headed toward a dead end with no escape.

“They’re like locusts,” Count Salzberg grumbled.

Locusts? Yeah, I can see what he means.

The refugees trembled in fear and sought salvation. But if one were to extend a helping hand to them, they’d consume everything. They really were like a swarm of locusts, devouring all life in their path.

As the three men continued to discuss the situation, the sunset cast a red glow into the room, like an omen of their fates.

♱

To the south of Epirus spanned a wide, vast forest. In the heart of that forest was a small clearing, where countless tents and campfires were set up.

A curtain of thick clouds hung in the sky, blocking out the moonlight and leaving nothing but the dark to govern the night. Slipping through the darkness, a man silently entered Ryoma’s tent like a shadow and kneeled before him.

“Milord, we’ve just received a report from the leader.”

Unsurprised by his sudden appearance, Ryoma responded as he examined a map spread before him.

“There weren’t any problems, I hope?”

“No. Everything went according to your instructions. We’re ready to begin whenever you give the word, milord.”

“Good. I gotta hand it to Jinnai; he gets the job done. You can tell he’s a professional.”

“No, milord, it’s all thanks to your inscrutable plan.”

Ryoma’s expression contorted for a second. The shadow wore a mask that hid his features, but he had the voice of a man in his thirties. Ryoma wasn’t nearly brazen enough to indifferently accept such unrestrained praise from a man twice his age.

“Inscrutable plan,” huh? A pretty pretentious way of putting it. I can’t exactly deny it, though. Talk about mixed feelings.

Given what was going to come next, Ryoma couldn’t show any weakness as the man in charge. He was about to order them to risk their lives. But only murmuring a word of thanks felt just as foolish.

After a moment of thought, Ryoma simply shrugged. He wasn’t comfortable responding like that, but rather than say something careless, he decided a wordless reply was more appropriate to the situation.

Our bomb is set up in Epirus. Now it’s just a question of when to trigger it.

Ryoma picked up a black game piece and placed it over Epirus on the map. That single black piece sat between two white pieces. Atop it was a small flag with the Mikoshiba barony’s sigil—the silver and gold two-headed snake.

Ryoma’s eyes scanned the map, confirming the number of game pieces. There were several dozen of them, and each one’s shape and size stood for the type and size of an army. They were also one of three colors: black, white, or wooden pieces that hadn’t been painted. The black ones were units on Ryoma’s side, and the white ones were enemy units. The wooden ones were neutral forces.

The black ones representing Ryoma’s army had the fewest pieces on the map, most of them on the plains to the northeast of Epirus. Except for the piece he’d just placed over the citadel city, each large black piece was surrounded by at least three large white ones.

One large piece was a soldier bravely holding a shield, and it stood for Lione’s unit. Another small piece, a soldier holding a sword, was stationed over Fort Tilt, which guarded their base of operations in the city of Sirius. Lastly, a soldier on horseback sat on the forest to the south of Epirus and represented Ryoma’s unit.

Ryoma had twenty-five hundred troops, which was an exceptionally large army for a barony, especially since they could all use martial thaumaturgy on the same level as knights. Still, the enemy’s army was larger. There were only two large white pieces on Epirus, but all around them were over ten wooden pieces of people holding hoes. These were the refugees flooding the city.

Ryoma didn’t count the refugees as his enemies, but they could end up becoming his opponents depending on the situation. And there were so many of them. Most were amateurs who had never held a sword or spear, but one didn’t necessarily need a weapon to kill someone else. They could throw stones or scatter oil to start fires. And even if they weren’t skilled in combat whatsoever, once there were tens of thousands of them, they could quickly become a threat.

Do I move Helena from defending Tritron to help conquer Epirus? Or...

Ryoma stared at a wooden piece on the border with Xarooda. He’d already completed the negotiations with Helena behind the scenes, but he hadn’t determined the right time to put her to use.

The same could be said of Count Zeleph and Count Bergstone, but when it came to using the ace up one’s sleeve, timing was everything. Besides, while the O’ltormea Empire was silent at the moment, they could launch another invasion on Xarooda at any time. With that in mind, moving Helena away from the west, where she was applying pressure on them, would have to be a last resort.

If all I want is to win this war, I could call Helena to come to Epirus. But now that I have that bomb there, it feels like a bad move. And Queen Lupis could still send reinforcements from the capital, so we should probably keep Helena where she’s at, just in case.

Ryoma and Helena had already made a secret pact, but few people knew about it. Queen Lupis and her vassals knew nothing of it, of course, so they would assume Helena was on their side if they took action. As such, Helena was an important piece on the board, both in terms of offense and defense.

The big question is whether the capital will send reinforcements. After what happened with Baron Vector Chronicle the other day, I ordered the Igasaki clan to keep an eye on Queen Lupis’s actions, but I think the safest play is to move in on Epirus and take it out at once.

Each of Ryoma’s plans were intrinsically flexible and fluid. He didn’t stubbornly stick to any one plan, but instead weaved multiple plots in tandem. His method was to always control and stay on top of as many risks as possible, not unlike splitting risks in the stock market. Doing this required a mind that could consider multiple outcomes and the fortune and manpower to allow for it, so it wasn’t something anyone could pull off.

“Call Mike,” Ryoma told the shadow, his eyes still fixed on the map. “After that, go to Jinnai and tell him to start the next plan in the morning three days from now. We’ll move in to meet you then.”

“Understood.” The shadow nodded and faded into the darkness.

That just leaves...

Now alone in the tent, Ryoma let out a heavy sigh. He caressed his left cheek without realizing it.

After Ryoma clashed with Vector and killed him, Sara, who’d been watching the battle play out, had hurried to his side and treated the injury immediately. It had healed quickly thanks to the nostrums from Wortenia’s dark elves. Though the cut had gouged into his muscle, the wound was now gone without a trace. It only existed in Ryoma’s memories now.

Baron Vector Chronicle. What was he trying to achieve?

At first, Ryoma had thought he was just a fool. But his sword skills were real, and the smile he left behind in death made Ryoma feel like there was something more to him.

I wish I could have taken him alive.

There was no one left who knew what Vector’s objective was. When his subordinates saw him die, they’d all turned their blades on Ryoma. Sara and the knights had subsequently disposed of them. They were likely in the underworld with their lord now. But in so doing, Ryoma had lost the chance to gain information on Vector’s plan.

I don’t think this influences the progress of the war, but...

There wasn’t anything substantial to base his concern on, but his sixth sense was definitely alerting him to something.

We’ll have to figure this out, and fast.

As he awaited Mike’s arrival, Ryoma continued pondering the events that had transpired.

♱

Mike was writing in his tent when he felt the air subtly brush against his skin. As a key figure among the Crimson Lions, Mike could easily notice such an indistinct change, and he regarded it with suspicion.

Now, then...

Normally, one would suspect an assassin. But he was in the middle of a camp guarded by soldiers, and there were skilled Igasaki ninjas stationed to guard him. No assassin in the western continent could break through all these defenses. Even if such a skilled assassin existed, they wouldn’t target Mike of all people.

Mike was relatively close to Ryoma, and he had handled Ryoma’s carriage when Ryoma first visited Count Salzberg’s estate. Perhaps due to that relationship, Ryoma had appointed Mike as captain of his personal guard. So while Mike’s rank wasn’t as high as Lione and Boltz, he was certainly a trusted member of the Crimson Lions.

But if an assassin were trying to claim someone’s life, they would aim higher, like the army general or his top lieutenant. There wasn’t much value in assassinating Mike. This left just one option for the unseen disturbance.

“Did something happen?” Mike asked without looking up from the parchment he was writing on.

A masked man appeared in front of him and kneeled.

“My apologies for intruding so late at night,” the messenger said. “The lord calls for you.”

“The lad? Ah, I get it. We got word from Epirus,” Mike responded, clearly unsurprised.

The first time one of those ninjas had appeared to deliver a message, Mike had been quite surprised, but he’d gotten used to it by now.

“Yes. Our leader, who infiltrated Epirus, sent word. And the lord asked for your presence.”

“Right. I guess it means Jinnai did his job well.”

The shadow said nothing. The ninjas would remain silent if it didn’t pertain to their tasks. That wasn’t to say they discarded their emotions, but they rarely let their sentiments show when on a mission.

“Did the lad say anything else?” Mike asked.

“No, he only asked that I call for you.”

“Right. Understood. Good work.”

The shadow nodded and faded back into the darkness.

“Phew. Everything seems to be going just like the lad planned. The problem is what comes next.”

Mike put the pen and paper away, rose from his chair, and looked up. As he stared at the night outside, his mind was submerged in thought. Normally, he would hurry when his leader called him, but this leader was no ordinary man.

“Why did I call you?” “What were the possible problems?” “How will they act?” “What are the pros and cons of each choice?” Ryoma always asked those around him for their opinions, so he would be disappointed if Mike ran straight to him without thinking things through.

Mike was set to work alongside Boltz to manage Epirus, so he needed to be prudent and careful. This was why he was at Ryoma’s side right now.

How do we move? Everything in Epirus is going as he planned. If we charge them now, we should be able to topple the city if we work with Jinnai, but... No, we’d take too many losses if we did that.

When all was said and done, the objective of this war was to win. If their prospects of victory were slim, they couldn’t be picky about the methods they used to achieve it. They would triumph no matter what price it might cost or what sacrifice they must make. But this time, their victory was all but guaranteed, so the way they would win became more significant. If nothing else, there was no point forcibly taking Epirus and throwing away the lives of their soldiers.

Besides, we have to set the groundwork for the next war too.

If they won this war, Mike’s young commander would become the ruler of Northern Rhoadseria. He would crush the ten houses of the north and usurp their rights to their territories. At that point, the Mikoshiba barony would occupy a fourth of Rhoadseria’s territory.

Ryoma’s domain would be as large as a dukedom in both name and substance. But Rhoadseria’s queen, Lupis Rhoadserians, wouldn’t overlook his actions. She would definitely attack him. And that conflict wouldn’t end until either Ryoma or Queen Lupis died. All of Ryoma’s subordinates followed him knowing this.

At the time, I never thought things would come to this.

A bitter emotion filled Mike’s heart. Ryoma and Lupis had joined forces because of Rhoadseria’s civil war. It had started with a scheme concocted by Wallace, the guild master of Pherzaad, the largest trade port in Myest. Ryoma and Lione’s Crimson Lion group had found themselves in a crisis, and they’d needed the backing of someone powerful to protect themselves. At the same time, Lupis had been in dire need of someone who could help her resolve her own problems.

And so a talented man with no authority met a weak woman with royal command. Their meeting felt preordained. Though, at the time, Lupis hadn’t had much authority. She’d merely clung to her title as princess. Though she was heir to the throne, Hodram Albrecht had truly held power.

Still, it felt like fate had guided Ryoma to Lupis’s side. Had their relationship remained favorable, poets would have no doubt sung of their heroic saga for centuries to come. Yet that honeymoon period ended all too quickly. Their relationship fractured, leading to this rebellion.

I can understand Queen Lupis’s feelings, though.

Mike had spent his entire life in this world’s class system, so he could empathize with Lupis.

It was unclear if someone had put the idea in Lupis’s head or if she’d concluded on her own that Ryoma was dangerous, but either way, Queen Lupis decided to lock Ryoma in the Wortenia Peninsula in the hopes that he’d stay there until he died.

Nothing was scarier to a ruler than a low-ranking person with skill. Those in a position close to the ruler were often ambitious. While their talents made them useful vassals, their abilities highlighted the ruler’s inadequacies and foolishness.

Not every ruler felt this way, however. A ruler’s job was to efficiently manage their human resources. But ideals didn’t always become reality, and this was a turbulent world full of war. One couldn’t even trust their own family.

A ruler who found themselves with a skilled vassal they couldn’t trust had three options: ruthlessly dispose of that vassal, give them a weak post where they can’t be promoted, or send them to a frontier land and keep them there until they die. With only these options, one could say Lupis’s decision was appropriate. Killing him would have certainly saved her future trouble, but in the end, her ego had dictated her decision...and deepened the fissure between them. By leaving the serpent free to slither through her garden, she allowed it to feed on prey and sharpen its venomous fangs.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Mike rose to his feet and left the tent. As he walked to his destination, the clouds parted, revealing a full moon. He looked up at it and cracked a ferocious smile.

“The moon sure is fine tonight...”

It was a red moon, heralding the wars to come.