Wortenia Senki (LN) - Volume 8 - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Those Who Writhe in the Shadows 

The Kingdom of Xarooda — a kingdom that had its territory divided by steep mountains, and one of the three countries of the western continent’s eastern regions. In its capital of Peripheria, Ryoma Mikoshiba was in the room allotted to him in the kingdom’s castle. Kneeling before him were five boys and girls. Their ages were somewhere in the mid-teens. 

“I gave you hard orders to carry out, but you followed them well. Good job, Kevin. You all did spectacularly,” Ryoma told them, taking care to appear as dignified as he could. 

Perhaps he wasn’t used to speaking like that, but Kevin couldn’t help but smile at seeing his respected master speak with such a high-pitched, high-strung voice. 

Miss Lione probably told him to talk like that... It’s a bit disrespectful to think of my master like this, but it’s kind of funny... 

Kevin regarded this unexpected side of his master with something close to affection. Looking around, Kevin saw Ryoma’s aides were all deliberately looking away. They were trying to hide it, but their shoulders were shivering with repressed laughter — they were just as amused by this as Kevin was. 

The Ryoma Kevin knew was a much more open-hearted man, with a wild disposition. He wasn’t as violent or vulgar as the many mercenaries and adventurers he worked with, but he wasn’t a stick in the mud that was bound by the formalities and dignity of the nobility, either. He was, simply put, mostly natural and casual. 

And yet, he was still a noble of Rhoadseria. A man of privileged class. 

Thanking his vassals is probably harder than I thought... But... 

His gestures were awkward to be sure, but it was clear he was worried for Kevin and his comrades’ wellbeing. Not many commanders in this world would worry for a soldier’s safety this much. And Kevin appreciated the fact he had the privilege of serving under such a commander. 

Goddammit... Everyone’s just having a good laugh at my expense, huh... 

Slightly irritated at the amused reactions all around him, Ryoma stuck to his facade as a ruler. Ryoma intended to increase his territory further. It was one thing when he was with people like Lione and the twins, but he was bound to be around people that would insist on sticking to formalities. 

Ryoma himself preferred to stay friendly whenever possible, but acknowledged he couldn’t always have that attitude in the forefront. Some situations required making the other person feel uncomfortable or pressured. Ryoma grew up in a country without a class system, so putting on airs around others didn’t come naturally to him, but that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. 

This is troublesome... But I’ll need to get used to it either way... 

It was about time he started to show such a side in the city of Sirius on the Wortenia peninsula. Lione and the twins were chiding him, telling him to treat the soldiers in a more dignified, formal manner, especially when it came to rewarding or punishing. 

It was an understandable suggestion. Lione was like Ryoma in the sense that she wasn’t good with keeping up a formal attitude, but it all depended on the situation. For example, if someone won a tournament, there was a stark difference between having the certificate haphazardly dumped into one’s hands compared to receiving it in an official, dignified ceremony. 

The end result was the same, but the nuance was clearly different. And what mattered wasn’t Ryoma’s perspective on it as the one praising his men, but how the people he was praising and those around them saw it. There was no need for him to stick to an approach that would displease the ones being praised. Ryoma had no intent of insulting the people he needed to encourage, and if all it took was for him to tolerate this facade for a bit, so be it. 

And so, a few months had passed. He still felt a bit awkward, but he was getting used to acting like a noble. Ryoma always disliked people who stood above others, but this world operated on a class system, and acting too kind to commoners could buy him the scorn and disdain of other knights and nobles. 

But dignity wasn’t something one could hide behind a thin veneer. A person can say anything, but one’s true attitude had a way of shining through. 

And indeed, Ryoma’s facade was still unrefined and clumsy. That was all too natural, since he was just a high school student when he was summoned to this world. And while he was wiser than his age might suggest, adopting the demeanor unique to the nobility wasn’t a simple task for him. Truth be told, the whole affair felt absurd to him. 

Still, Lione and the twins keep getting mad at me over this, so... 

Ryoma couldn’t help but crack a wry smile upon noticing everyone realized how high-pitched his voice was. What mattered was where one’s heart lay. Ryoma still saw ceremony as just a superficial pretense, but knew he needed to know where to draw the line. 

A pompous, haughty attitude wouldn’t buy him his men’s trust, but toadying up to his subordinates would make his army undisciplined. And sometimes his feelings couldn’t shine through unless he insisted on ceremony. 

And Ryoma couldn’t deny that he wanted to have Lione and the twins to stop scolding him over this topic already. 

“Your words are wasted on us, Lord,” Kevin said with his head bowed, and the other four behind him followed suit. 

‘Lord’ was how Kevin and the other children referred to him respectfully. Calling him ‘Baron’ felt too based on nobility, so Ryoma didn’t like it. They mulled over using ‘Governor’ and ‘Young Sir,’ but something felt off about those. And they couldn’t call him ‘Boy’ or ‘Lad’ like Lione and the mercenaries did. So eventually, they settled on following Gennou’s example and calling him ‘Lord.’ 

Indeed, Ryoma lived in an estate set up in the center of Sirius, and calling him the lord of that house wasn’t a mistake. Of course, the ‘Milord’ Gennou spoke of was different due to his origin as a ninja, but the people of this world didn’t know that. 

“We’ve successfully carried out your orders, without having to use our last resort,” Kevin said, his hand clasping around a small bottle hanging from his belt. 

Ryoma nodded back at him wordlessly. It was an ace they’d prepared for the sake of this battle, but they managed to achieve their objective without having to use it. Lione, who stood behind Ryoma, gave a satisfied smile. 

“Ya were all too nervous over this. I told ya you’d be fine, didn’t I? And ya were.” Lione punctuated her words by beating on her chest once with a punch. 

Kevin and his group were soldiers she raised personally from zero. To her and the other Crimson Lion mercenaries, they were like their own children and proteges. Seeing their power in a clear, visible form naturally made her happy. 

Ryoma couldn’t help but crack a sardonic smile as he looked at her. After all, it was she who showed the most disapproval at the orders he gave Kevin’s group earlier that day. Of course, he wasn’t foolish enough to say it to her face. 

“Yeah, using that would win ya the match immediately, but it would complicate our relations with Xarooda. That just means ya didn’t just do good, ya did real good.” 

Alongside their training as a group and mastering thaumaturgy, Kevin and his group were given this last resort. Using it would allow them to win easily. The bottles contained a paralyzing agent the Igasaki clan developed from the monsters infesting the Wortenia peninsula. 

It was tasteless and odorless, but its effects were instant and ignored most forms of poison resistance. On top of that, an antidote capable of negating its effects was hard to come by on the market. The best way of dealing with it would be to consume an antidote ahead of time or have a thaumaturgist heal the victim and remove its effects. 

The paralyzing agent’s biggest fault was that the reagents needed to refine it were rare, so gathering large amounts of it was difficult. But otherwise, it was versatile — one could spray it into the wind and have the victim inhale it, or smear it on a weapon. It was a paralyzing agent, but it was non-lethal, making it a good way of winning the match. 

But it was also a double-edged sword. Using it on a battlefield would be one thing, but resorting to it in a match would have been seen as cowardly. Even if the match was supposed to emulate true combat, it was different from hiding the fact they were capable of thaumaturgy to gain the advantage. And even though they had the discretion to use a non-lethal one, no one would listen to them if it became known they used poison. 

I did figure they’d win without using it — that’s why I picked these five. And the results speak for themselves. 

The five kneeling before Ryoma were among the more talented and loyal soldiers from the slaves he bought and raised. Their bodies were built up by surviving in Wortenia and fighting the monsters living there, and their skills were developed by arduous, daily training. On top of that, rising up from the harsh circumstances of their life afforded Kevin and his allies an unrivaled sense of unity and an obsession with staying alive. 

They were still young and had room to grow, but they already reached a level that put them on par with other soldiers and knights. Of course, seasoned veterans like Lione and Boltz were still far above them, but that was something time would solve. 

So long as they stayed alive that long, of course... 

“Yes, Miss Laura instructed us about using it...” Kevin said. “She told us only to use it if we feel we’re certainly about to lose. However, if we were to sense any danger to our lives, she permitted us to use it freely.” 

The other four nodded. The light of intellect and the firm resolve to lay down their lives in the name of their mission shined in their eyes. It was proof that they perfectly understood their role, and that was something a noble could never achieve by haughtily commanding commoners. 

Trust, huh...? 

To gain the soldiers’ trust, Ryoma dined in the same dining room as the soldiers as often as time would allow, eating the same kind of food they did. That was something a noble of this world would never do. But to gain someone’s trust requires understanding that person, and having that person understand you. 

In that regard, Ryoma received a great deal of loyalty and respect from Kevin and the children. If Ryoma ordered them to die, they would gladly discard their lives. Ryoma managed to do this by treating them fairly after they’d had all their human dignity and rights stolen from them upon becoming slaves. 

But even so, Ryoma had something he had to tell them now, no matter how. 

“Yes, the mission is important... And I’m pleased to see you’re willing to risk your life to serve me. But the one thing you’re not allowed to do, no matter what, is die. Survive at all costs... That way, we can share a meal again.” 

For a soldier like Kevin, this order was a contradiction. They couldn’t hope to succeed in a mission that required them to be prepared to die and be ordered to survive at all costs at the same time. If he didn’t want them to die that much, Ryoma wouldn’t order them to go on such dangerous missions. 

But the reality of this world wouldn’t accommodate that. So long as Ryoma pursued his aspirations, the blood of both his foes and allies would stain his hands. But despite knowing this, Ryoma couldn’t help but say those words to Kevin. 

No matter what, I don’t want to see you die... 

“My Lord...” The children’s shoulders trembled slightly. 

They realized that he cherished them. And to children like Kevin, who were sold off to reduce the number of mouths to feed in their homes, this was the sort of affection even their parents never granted them. 

“We will etch your order onto our hearts, My Lord.” The five of them bowed their heads at once. 

For this man, I will do anything... 

Kevin swore to himself he would answer Ryoma’s expectations. 

“All right... Still, you’ve done well. I can only reward you like this for now, but I hope you enjoy this,” Ryoma said, handing Kevin a leather sack. 

Ryoma watched the five accept the sack and leave the room, after which his thoughts wandered to Julianus I and his expression. 

Choosing Kevin’s group for the job was the right decision. I would have preferred a draw without any fighting, but... They understand that. And so did that old man... 

They couldn’t afford to lose this battle, but winning wouldn’t have given them the best possible result, either. They could win if their objective were just to bring more fame to Ryoma’s name. But the best possible scenario was for the match to stop before it’s decided, while Ryoma’s power was displayed for the onlookers to see at the same time. 

Ryoma wanted to find the right timing to suggest this, but Julianus I came to that decision before he did. That was a happy coincidence for all Ryoma was concerned. After all, knights stressed honor and reputation more than anything. Ryoma couldn’t afford to have himself and his soldiers be seen as weaklings, but crushing the knights’ honor would make his future relations with Xarooda shaky. 

In that regard, the results of this match were perfect. Julianus I was known as ‘The Mediocre King,’ and so Ryoma didn’t expect much of the man. But his impression of the king changed little by little following their audience. He could aptly tell where the tides of battle were going, and chose the method that hurt his country’s dignity the least. 

“So far everything’s going as planned, then?” Sara asked Ryoma, who had sunk into his seat. 

“Yeah, one way or another... With this, they shouldn’t ignore our proposals in the war council tomorrow,” Ryoma said and sighed, taking a sip from his glass of red wine. 

It didn’t matter how good a plan they might come up with unless they had the power to apply it. In that regard, this Earth was similar to Ryoma’s world. 

“’Sides, that king being sharper than we thought was a stroke of good luck,” Lione said. 

“I felt the same way. Master Ryoma, Julianus I stopped the match there because...?” Laura nodded and asked. 

“He realized losing there would put him in a bad spot. You can tell that much because he didn’t order the judge to stop the match, he went directly to Grahalt. He probably figured I wouldn’t insist on winning the match there.” 

Kevin’s group was obviously winning. Having the king use his authority to stop the match halfway through was a risky move to make, even in this world where the king’s authority carried as much weight as it did. Had Ryoma not accepted the draw, it would have greatly damaged Julianus I’s authority. And that would be a crippling blow to the Kingdom of Xarooda as a whole — especially with the ongoing war with O’ltormea. 

The fact that he elected to stop the match there meant he saw through Ryoma’s true intentions. 

“And he also used it as a chance to smoke out a parasite eating away at his country. That man’s more cunning than I thought,” Lione added, to which Ryoma clicked his tongue. 

“Yeah, he’s a real cunning fox, that one. He didn’t just see through my intentions, he used it to his favor.” Ryoma nodded. 

He wasn’t as displeased as his words might have implied, though. Quite the opposite, in fact — Ryoma found Julianus I to be a reliable ally. Nothing could be more dangerous than an incompetent ally, after all. 

Sara poured some wine into Ryoma’s empty glass. 

“Count Schwartzheim and the noble that served as judge... I think his name was...” Ryoma trailed off. 

“Baron Slater,” Sara said. 

“Right, right, that was his name.” Ryoma nodded. 

He didn’t pay the old noble much attention, but when Julianus I stopped the match, Baron Slater flared up and argued against the king. That made Ryoma wonder if he had some kind of ulterior motives. 

“My gut tells me Count Schwartzheim was just pushed by someone to do this... But either way, we should look into the people around them. All right, Sakuya?” 

“Understood, Milord. I shall perform my duties well enough to bring pride to my grandfather.” Sakuya nodded resolutely. 

Sakuya’s grandfather, Gennou, was assigned as supervisor of Sirius’s defenses. As such, he and Boltz were left behind to guard the city. The other members of the Elder Council were all busy with work of their own, and so the one dispatched with the expedition was Sakuya, the leader of the younger members of the Igasaki clan who was set to join the Elder Council in the future. 

“You don’t have to get worked up over this. Just work the same way you always do.” 

“Thank you, Milord...” Sakuya bowed her head, but her expression seemed just as nervous. 

Ryoma exchanged a glance with Lione, and the two regarded her with a wry smile. 

I guess telling her not to be nervous is asking for a lot... But still, her skills are fine, she just needs some confidence... 

Gennou approved of Sakuya’s skills, and everyone around her appraised her favorably. Her only flaw was her lack of experience, and the only way of gaining that was through work. And namely, she needed experience leading other ninjas as their superior. This was part of the Igasaki clan’s way of ensuring their next generation matures. 

And indeed, despite Gennou’s harsh treatment of Sakuya as a ninja, seeing his granddaughter mature and blossom into a full-fledged ninja did make him nervous. The fact that he selected thirty of the clan’s most skilled ninja and had them slip in with the transport unit gave a glimpse into how serious he was about the whole matter. They were all capable of assassinating a commanding general if need be, or of being sent to commit subversive activities within the enemy base. 

“The good thing is the situation’s much better than we first thought. Your plan may yet bear fruit, boy.” Lione turned her eyes to Ryoma. 

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure if anything would come of that plan either, but we got our chance,” Ryoma said with a smile. “It’s a good thing it didn’t have to go to waste after we got Lupis’s permission ahead of time.” 

“So the rest depends on tomorrow’s war council...” Sara said, to which Ryoma simply took another sip of wine. 

He then gazed into the glass, twirling it in his hand as he enjoyed the mystifying way the lamp’s light reflected off the red surface of the liquid. 

Just as Lione and the others discussed their future policy in Ryoma’s room, a group of men were sitting at a round table in an estate elsewhere in the city of Peripheria. Their expressions were all perplexed. 

“This is quite an unexpected turn of events...” one of the men said, to which everyone else nodded in agreement. 

“Yes, I don’t think any of us thought this would happen.” 

“Greed’s a careless one, it seems. To think his subordinates would lose to mere children...” 

Eight men sat around the table. Their attire — and indeed, the haughty, confident expressions on their faces — made it clear they were all high-ranking nobles. Theirs were the faces of those who were confident in the absolute value of their pedigree and the fact that others existed only to wait upon them. 

“What are you planning to do, sir...? We arranged this match so as to drive a wedge between Rhoadseria and Xarooda. He wouldn’t be satisfied to see it end in such an unsatisfactory way.” 

“Quite true. With this, what was the point of me bullying that stubborn fool, eh?” 

The other men chuckled at this comment. A malicious laughter, the kind with which one mocks a pitiful jester. And indeed, to them, Count Schwartzheim’s patriotic actions were nothing more than a badly performed comedy. 

“Count Schwartzheim... Ridiculous. I had to hold back my laughter when he pulled that little performance in the audience chamber.” 

“He fell for our deception too easily. Who exactly was he planning on fighting? It seems that man is incapable of discerning friend from foe.” 

“Aye, indeed. I hear the first head of House Schwartzheim achieved great military feats during the founding of the country, but their current head is a fool with no mind for diplomacy or gambling, it seems.” 

“The stubborn fool doesn’t know his place. When I imagine the face he’d make upon realizing his actions only served to hurt his beloved kingdom, I can’t help but laugh.” 

Thinking back to how Count Schwartzheim admonished the king at risk of death and out of loyalty to his country, the men burst into laughter again. They found Count Schwartzheim and his constant prattling about the pride of the nobility and loyalty to Xarooda to be utterly irritating. 

That said, all the people present were in good relations with Count Schwartzheim, at least on the surface — or rather, they maintained that facade of camaraderie with him in public. 

And, after they finished laughing, the man that sat at the back of the room whispered quietly. 

“The problem is that whelp, though. He’s dangerous... I can understand why Sir Saitou and Princess Shardina are wary of him.” 

At those words, everyone else exchanged gazes of disbelief. 

“Do you think so? That boy didn’t look so dangerous to me...” 

“I agree. While it’s admirable that he was able to gather soldiers while governing a backwater region like Wortenia, war is decided by numbers. He can’t take to the battlefield with a mere five hundred troops, and forming a mixed unit with an unfamiliar noble wouldn’t achieve much, either.” 

The others nodded in agreement. His judgment stood to reason. It would take a knight order — 2,500 knights — to really shift the tides of a battle. Mobilizing a unit of less than five hundred troops on its own was just risky, to say the least. In true battle, he’d have to form a mixed unit with another noble’s forces. 

But if that was the case, Ryoma Mikoshiba’s unit would be just one part of an army. And as skilled as Ryoma might be, if he couldn’t operate effectively with the other noble he’d be paired with, his forces’ combat capabilities would fall dramatically. 

“Yes, I understand that. But still, I can’t help but feel this way...” 

A silence fell over the room, and the gazes of everyone in the round table gathered on the man they called ‘sir.’ He possessed too much power — both in terms of his authority and the martial prowess he possessed — for any of them to scoff at his words and call them a delusion. 

“Will Ryoma Mikoshiba really interfere with the Empire’s invasion, just like that man?” 

“The possibility exists that he will. True, his forces are too small to change the tide of battle, but he’s resourceful enough to train troops of such strength... If we don’t act carefully, our pact with Princess Shardina might be revoked.” 

All the men in this room had one thing in common. They were all haughty and power hungry, starved for a chance to gain more glory and authority. And they were all governors coming from leading noble families in Xarooda, who possessed vast lands. 

But their biggest common feature was that they were all traitors to the kingdom, who would sell their country if it would earn them glory and power. 

“General Belares was taken care of in the first battle, but things have not gone our way since.” 

“Yes, we did everything we could to make it difficult to gather troops, but nothing we’ve done since then has worked. And since that man had to go about complicating things, we need to rethink our plan from the ground up.” 

The battle of the Notis Plains was the opening skirmish in the O’ltormea Empire’s invasion of the east. O’ltormea’s operatives managed to seal the flow of intelligence, preventing Xarooda from taking sufficient defensive measures. Normally, that battle alone would have sealed Xarooda’s fate. 

Even if it was impossible to gather all of the country’s soldiers, pushing back an O’ltormean invasion with just the forces belonging directly to the kingdom would have been far too reckless. 

That said, normally they would have been able to conscript soldiers from around the capital and the nobles near the border areas, as well as call in volunteer soldiers. But in reality, the only forces Xarooda deployed in the battle of the Notis plains were twenty thousand knights. Arios Belares was lauded as a master general, but even with him in the helm, charging into battle was reckless. 

And the cause for that decision lay in the machinations the men gathered around this round table performed. 

And yet, despite O’ltormea winning the battle of the Notis Plains and being positioned to storm into Xarooda’s territories by force, a man stood in the way of Shardina’s plans. 

“Joshua Belares. Rumors called General Belares’s third son an uncouth lout, so why, why...?! How has he been such a thorn in Princess Shardina’s side for an entire year?” 

The men all heaved sighs of exasperation. There was no name they wanted to hear less now than that of Joshua Belares. They’d managed the grand feat of removing General Belares from the equation, but as soon as he was gone, that young man appeared out of the woodwork to completely blot out their achievement. 

“People have been holding him up as some sort of war hero lately. Some of the nobles that have maintained a wait-and-see approach have even decided to send him reinforcements.” 

“Apparently he’s been using the mountainous terrain to employ unconventional tactics. I’ve received word that Princess Shardina’s supply units have taken great losses...” 

“Applying pressure on him now would be a bad idea. As much as I’m loath to refuse Princess Shardina’s requests, we can’t make our intentions too clear.” 

“Which means that this is poor timing to have him assassinated, too.” 

The men exchanged gazes and hung their heads in silence. They weren’t above resorting to assassination, nor did they sense any guilt at the prospect of killing a young man fighting to defend their country. They simply didn’t want to take a risk. But after a long silence, the man they called ‘sir’ finally parted his lips. 

“Hmm, no matter. We don’t have a play we can make right now, anyway. We can decide after we see how the war council tomorrow goes.” 

The others exclaimed in agreement. 

“Now, let us all pray for our prosperity,” he said. 

The men all took up the wine glasses set on the round table. 

“All in the name of our clan’s prosperity.” 

““““In the name of prosperity.”””” 

They all drank the liquid and then smashed the glasses against the floor simultaneously. 

“No one... No one will get in our way,” the one called ‘sir’ whispered, and stomped on the shards of glass littering the floor. 

It was as if he were trying to crush an insect under his feet... 

The day after the match in the maneuvering grounds, over 30 people gathered in a large meeting room in the castle. 

“That’s the situation in our country. I hope today we can discuss our position and find a way to break this deadlock,” Grahalt said. 

A map of Xarooda was spread on the large table, with game pieces resting on it to signify the deployed units and fortresses. 

“We need your help to protect our country,” Julianus I, who was seated near Grahalt, said. 

They used a large meeting room in the castle for the first war council of the unified eastern nations. Selected generals and knight captains of Myest, Rhoadseria, and Xarooda were all gathered in one room, along with high-ranking nobles in charge of diplomatic relations and economic affairs, where they all met each other for the first time. 

Among the people gathered there was the king of Xarooda, Julianus I. This alone showed just how grim Xarooda’s position was. Any war council attended by the king was bound to be a critical one. 

“No, I think we ought to maintain the front lines and have our neighbors tighten the noose around O’ltormea!” one enthusiastic noble called out. “Thankfully, General Belares’s third son is maintaining the front lines. We should make good use of the time he buys us.” 

A knight sitting beside the noble cut into his words. 

“What are you saying?! We’ll be playing into O’ltormea’s hands by doing that. They want us to sit on our hands and do nothing while they occupy our territories one by one! Thankfully, we have the reinforcements from Myest and Rhoadseria. And despite the loss of General Belares, we still have the nobles from the central regions of the country and their troops. We need to consolidate our remaining forces and drive O’ltormea out of our borders in one fell swoop!” 

With those two opposing opinions as the catalyst, the surrounding people descended into a heated debate. 

“Calm yourselves. In my opinion, our three countries alone aren’t able to stand a chance. We should wait for the Kingdom of Helnesgoula to join the fray as well.” 

“That’s been going on since the war started, but it’s been a year and they haven’t made any progress.” 

“Still, even with Myest and Rhoadseria’s help, our number of soldiers is limited. Holding the line for much longer would be difficult. We need to draw Helnesgoula into the war. Should we not do everything in our power to win this?” 

“Are you some kind of fool?! Helnesgoula won’t help us! You know well enough what they call their queen!” 

“Indeed! She’s been lazily delaying our messengers with meetings while sneakily moving her armies toward our border! She’s no doubt aiming to steal territory from us!” 

“Precisely. They occupied one border town and haven’t made any movements since, but that’s not to say they’ll lend us their help!” 

The more elderly nobles stressed that O’ltormea’s greatest challenge was their line of supplies and insisted Xarooda should enter a state of protracted war. Meanwhile, the younger knights claimed that going on the offensive would be critical for maintaining the conscripted commoner soldiers’ morale. 

Each opinion had its merits. The elders noted that O’ltormea was attacking a central zone in the continent that was surrounded by rival countries, making protracted war a favorable possibility. Meanwhile, the younger knights pushed for an immediate, decisive strike, and this was understandable given Xarooda’s limited national power. 

Everyone used their knowledge and wisdom to make proactive suggestions and argue. But as they did, Ryoma, Lione and the Malfist sisters sat in a corner of the room as if to avoid attention, watching over the proceedings with cold eyes. 

“Hmph, and you call that a heated discussion...?” Ryoma whispered. “At this rate they’ll lose before they reach any decision. What’s the point of yelling about the obvious this late into the war?” 

Lione cracked a wry smile. Ryoma was considerate enough not to say it loudly, but even so, that wasn’t something he should say in a war council. Still, there was a clear reason Lione didn’t chide him for it. 

The boy’s harsh... Not that I can defend these people. Fact is, they really ain’t smart enough... 

The contents of this argument were already guessed and predicted ahead of time by Sakuya, who was absent from the war council. And so to Ryoma, this entire exchange was a farce. Xarooda’s national power was less than a third of O’ltormea’s to begin with. Only by uniting with the other two countries of the east could it hope to match the Empire. 

But Rhoadseria’s national power was weakened by its civil war, and Xarooda itself lost much of its military might during its defeat on the Notis Plains. True, O’ltormea’s army was surrounded by rivals on all sides, but the same could be said for Xarooda. They had Helnesgoula in their northwestern border, and the southern kingdoms on their south, and each of them was eyeing Xarooda greedily for a chance to steal land. 

The southern kingdoms were especially known for their savage warriors who focused on raiding and pillaging, and if they were allowed to invade Xarooda, the country’s southern regions would be turned to hell. 

The men would be killed, the women and children would be enslaved. Houses and fields would be put to the torch, and all the food and items of value the raiders could find would be stolen away. That was how they resisted countries several times their strength and size. And it was because Xarooda knew this that they couldn’t move their southern garrisons to help in the war effort. 

Still, at this rate, they’re definitely going to lose... 

Ryoma’s sense of judgment did not waver. He had the mental fortitude to see the uncomfortable truths thrust before him, and Lione knew this was how he survived this far. 

“This war is over once the frontline is pushed as far back as the capital’s region... At this rate, their territory will be divided into the north and south, and each one will be taken out on its own. That’ll be how this country ends...” 

Xarooda’s territory could be described as almost a rectangle extending to the north and south. The capital, Peripheria, was right in the middle of the country. The frontlines were three days to the south of the capital currently, in a basin surrounded by mountains. There, the fifteen thousand men under Joshua Belares’s command maintained the line with a do-or-die resolve. 

But the truth of the matter was, this was only slightly delaying the O’ltormean invasion into Xarooda’s soil. Joshua’s forces needed reinforcements, and they needed them as soon as possible. 

“Well, overturning this situation with conventional means is probably impossible. It’d take a gamble to break this deadlock. But I wouldn’t wanna make that kind of poor gamble...” Lione shook her head with a bitter smile on her lips. 

The Kingdom of Xarooda’s current situation was already well-known to Ryoma and his group. Ryoma thought back to the map they used in their discussion the previous night... 

Having won in the battle of the Notis Plains, the O’ltormea Empire’s army charged eastward, crossing the mountainous regions of the border into a basin region, where they halted their advance. They built up a stronghold, using their vast national power as the monarchs of the western continent to send a large amount of soldiers and supplies into Xarooda’s land. They would need to use that fortress as a staging area for their eastward charge. 

But the direction they were marching made it clear that O’ltormea wasn’t planning on forcibly charging the capital, Peripheria. They crossed to the south of Peripheria. Their intent was clearly to divide Xarooda across the north and south. And once they achieved that, the war would be theirs. 

If the nobles that held territory along Xarooda’s south were cut off from the capital, they would be stricken by fear and end up becoming unable to fight in an organized manner. And that would make defeating each individual side of the country a simple task. 

Some would even surrender to O’ltormea. After all, the southern kingdoms were also preparing to make their move. The regional governors couldn’t hold on for long against them with their private soldiers. 

“I don’t think anyone but you could come up with a strategy to break this deadlock, Master Ryoma...” Sara said, to which Lione smirked and shrugged. 

“Yeah, it’d be tough otherwise. Not many options we can take now,” she said. “But if we pull the same stunt as yesterday, we might be able to turn things around.” 

Lione’s words were heavy with insinuation, which prompted Sara to frown. 

“But the question is, can we really manage to do that...?” 

Any strategy might seem as if it would absolutely succeed before it’s actually put into practice, but the question of whether it would work and achieve the desired result was another matter altogether. From that angle, Ryoma’s ploy looked like a foolish, delusional trick. At least, at this point... 

Of course, being the one to propose it, Ryoma knew this well enough. 

“Well, the proposal doesn’t look good. It won’t be easy to convince anyone... All the countries are trying to keep themselves safe,” Lione said. 

“The problem is Myest’s movements... And whether they’ll cooperate with us.” Laura nodded lightly. 

“Myest isn’t the issue. I had Sakuya gather information on them. Hell, I haven’t even told King Julianus about it yet... Still, she’s going to be a key person in all this.” 

Ryoma’s gaze fell on a woman standing behind Grahalt and Helena. She had long, sleek, almost lacquered-looking black hair that extended down to her waist. Her skin was white as snow, and she looked to be in her mid-twenties. Her demeanor was so graceful that if one were to claim she was some kind of princess, Ryoma wouldn’t be surprised. In terms of beauty, she was a match for Princess Lupis. 

But regardless of whether they went on the defensive or turned to offense, the ten thousand knights this woman led would be the key to victory. 

“Ecclesia Marinelle... One of Myest’s great generals, known as ‘The Tempest’... I guess you couldn’t tell just from seeing her face, though,” Lione said, her face contorted unpleasantly. 

As far as Ryoma could see, Ecclesia looked like a woman of nobility, as far removed from the savagery of battle as could be. 

“Oh, right, you faced off against her once before, right, Lione?” Ryoma asked. 

Boltz told him about it before they left for Xarooda. Lione’s eyes widened in surprise — apparently she didn’t expect Ryoma to know about that. 

“Boltz told ya, did he...? Him and his big mouth... Yeah, I did. It was a few years ago. One of the southern kingdoms clashed with Myest over a territory. That’s when I fought her... Not like we had much of a name back then, so we were just one pawn on that battlefield. I doubt she’ll recognize me.” 

Lione thought back to that bitter, shameful defeat. 

“We were tearing into their frontlines and it looked like we were gonna win, but... It was bad.” 

It was her first defeat since she began leading a mercenary group on her own. Lione kept speaking, spitting the words out with frustration. 

“We were lucky that I gave up on pursuing them. Thanks to that, we got away with none of my men taking any losses. But the other people, the soldiers on their rear were all surrounded and wiped out... And that’s when it turned to a losing battle for our side. If I didn’t believe my gut feeling back then, I’d have been killed by that woman’s plan with the rest of my men... Shit, for how harmless she looks, that woman’s scary.” 

Ryoma smiled slightly. For how frustrated she was, Lione admitted Ecclesia’s strength. And Ryoma held Lione’s own capabilities as a commander in high regard. She was capable of calm judgment and knew how to keep her soldiers inspired. She was slightly hot-headed, but was aware of that fault and made efforts to keep it suppressed. 

In terms of personal combat prowess, there were probably many warriors that were greater than Lione. But when it came to commanding soldiers, Ryoma only knew a handful of people who could perform better than her. If she weren’t bound by her commoner status, she could surely serve in a key position in some country. 

If Lione feared her that much, Ecclesia Marinelle wasn’t a commander to be trifled with. 

Having more capable people around isn’t a bad thing. Helena and I aren’t enough to overturn this inferior position we’re in... I should probably talk to the man holding the enemy back on the frontlines, Joshua Belares... The only problem is Myest. What are they gonna do in this war? 

Ryoma still didn’t know much about the commanders leading Myest’s reinforcements. What was their aim? How many losses could they afford to take? Without knowing that information, revealing the plan he brewed up was too dangerous. 

“Guess we’ll just have to trust in their capabilities...” Ryoma whispered to himself as he watched the foolish argument from the corner of the room. 

How much were they willing to sacrifice to defend their country? Julianus I wasn’t the only one who ought to have been asked that question... 

Late that night, when most of the castle’s residents were already fast asleep, a loud shout echoed through one of the rooms. 

“Do you really think you can do that?! How much shame do you intend to bring upon Xarooda... upon us knights?! Any fellow countryman would rather die than withstand such ignominious shame!” 

Contained in that furious shout was the roar of a lion whose pride had been wounded. Grahalt’s face was red with anger, and he howled at Ryoma with bloodshot eyes. They had everyone irrelevant to the matter escorted out of the room, but Grahalt was so loud that Julianus I had to turn his gaze to the door. 

Grahalt’s loud voice was a boon when it came to encouraging his men on the battlefield, but when it came to confidential talks like this one, it became an issue instead. Helena sat next to Ryoma, while Ecclesia sat to Grahalt’s left. Both had bitter smiles on their lips. 

“It’s not a question of whether we can afford to do this anymore,” Ryoma said, not batting an eyelash while taking Grahalt’s anger head on. “We have no other choice... Or would you let O’ltormea destroy your country?” 

This exchange was very much a duel of words and eloquence. Indeed, if they were to refuse this offer, Ryoma had no backup plan. Ryoma couldn’t afford to back down here, both for Xarooda’s continued existence and his and his comrades’ survival. 

“How can you say that?! This war hasn’t been decided yet! To begin with, your proposal is a foolish daydream at best! If it was just our country it would have been one thing, but getting Rhoadseria and Myest involved is madness! If you honestly think either of the other countries would accept this idea, you’re a hopeless fool and a lunatic!” 

“Yes, I suppose that much is right... But can you come up with any other way to win, Sir Grahalt?” Ryoma shrugged at Grahalt’s bellowing. “I have a few ideas, if pushing your defeat back by a few years is good enough for you. But if you want this country to actually win... There’s no other way.” 

“We had the war council to discuss that! And you have the nerve to ask me that when you spent the whole council sitting quietly in the corner?! Your Majesty!” Grahalt turned his eyes to Julianus I and rose to his feet. “I came here out of deference for Lady Helena, but I can no longer stand for this. This is a waste of our time! I will be retiring to my room.” 

“Now wait, Grahalt,” Julianus I said, narrowing his eyes at the man as he stroked his white beard. “We gathered here in secret late at night for this. There’s no need to rush to conclusions.” 

Ryoma asked that this meeting be done in confidence, and so great efforts and preparations were expended to ensure the secrecy of this meeting. There was no need to end the talks when things were still undecided. 

“But, Your Majesty... The man speaks nonsense. And besides, if we do as he says, Xarooda will end up becoming a vassal to Helnesgoula,” Grahalt said. 

But the next words to leave Julianus I’s lips exceeded Grahalt’s imagination. 

“And that’s fine, Grahalt.” 

A heavy silence settled over the room. Even Helena had her eyes wide with surprise. 

“Y-Your Majesty?” 

“Why are you so surprised? If we stand back and watch things unfold, we will either become vassals to O’ltormea or sacrifice our people and die an honorable defeat. Either way, the result will be the same. That being the case, are we not better off becoming vassals to a party who will offer us better terms?” 

Fighting to the very end would bring chaos to Xarooda’s territories, ravaging the livelihood of their subjects. But the same would hold true if they were to become vassals to O’ltormea. In the end, most wars were a form of economic activity. There was no telling how long O’ltormea was prepared to drag out the war with Xarooda, but if they intended to invade and destroy an entire country, the preparations likely cost them a great deal of funds. And the bigger their losses, the more they’d extort Xarooda after the war should they make an offer of vassalage. 

The tribute they’d demand would increase yearly, and the tariff taxes would grow all the more unfair as time went on, eating away at Xarooda until there would be nothing left to consume. In the end, choosing to fight O’ltormea as things stood was the difference between picking a swift death and a slow, agonizing one. Whichever choice they made, they would surely die. 

But this wasn’t because O’ltormea was a particularly cruel or evil country. They too had to regain the war expenses they wasted from somewhere, lest they were the ones to face an imminent death. 

“Becoming Helnesgoula’s vassals isn’t something I mind in and of itself,” Julianus I said, looking fixedly at Ryoma. “However, Mikoshiba, that will be meaningless if it ends up being the same as us being exploited by O’ltormea. Am I wrong? After all, given the movements that Helnesgoula has been making, I find it hard to believe they would act the way we want them to.” 

Ryoma nodded wordlessly. That was an understandable question to ask. 

“That’s why I gathered representatives from Myest, Rhoadseria and Xarooda here. Though I should make a correction. My idea wasn’t vassalage to Helnesgoula, but creating an alliance of four countries with Helnesgoula at the top... Though I suppose your choosing to regard that as vassalage might not be far from the truth.” 

At Ryoma’s explanation, Grahalt once again cut into his words. That man truly didn’t like Ryoma’s plan. 

“And that’s the part I find the most detestable! Why must we involve another country in our affairs? We’ve sent Helnesgoula messengers regularly since the battle at Notis, but they’ve been beating around the bush and doing nothing for the better part of a year! I can’t imagine they’d cooperate with this plan of yours.” 

While his words stemmed mostly from dislike for Ryoma’s idea, he was by no means wrong. That wasn’t to say he was entirely right, though. 

God, why won’t he let me finish...? It’s like talking to Mikhail. Is being stubborn as a mule in a knight’s job description or something? Ryoma heaved a sigh internally. 

Grahalt’s doubts weren’t unfounded, but Ryoma built his plan while taking that problem into consideration. He didn’t mean to brag, but there was absolutely no way he or his comrades wouldn’t think of any flaw Grahalt could point out ahead of time. It would be understandable if Grahalt would simply let Ryoma finish, but whenever he tried to explain anything the knight kept cutting into his words. It was grinding on Ryoma’s nerves. 

He could understand being impatient after all their attempts to defend Xarooda had turned up dry, but Ryoma’s patience was nearing its limits. 

It’s because you’re so fucking bad at your job that I had to be sent here in the first place. You only lost at Notis because you were dumb enough to rush headfirst into the enemy’s plan, you stupid assholes! If you hate my plan that much, then try growing enough of a brain to wipe your own bullshit up! 

But of course, as a general for Rhoadseria he couldn’t afford to make such a childish outburst. As utterly bitter as he was, he had to handle this like an adult. And besides, Ryoma had his own reasons to maintain Xarooda’s existence, which were separate from Rhoadseria’s interests. 

If the east were to lose the shield that was Xarooda, O’ltormea would rush into the east, conquering its countries one by one. Myest could probably hold on for a while, since it had a powerful economy that would allow it to maintain a force of knights, but Rhoadseria’s national power was still diminished from last year’s civil war. Or rather... Since Lupis’s policies weren’t functioning, it was possibly even weaker than it was last year. 

If O’ltormea were to send an invasion army under these conditions, Rhoadseria would be in no state to push them back. Ryoma used all his knowledge to probe for a way to prevent that hopeless scenario. He needed Xarooda to remain where it was, at least until he was prepared to break off from Rhoadseria. 

And despite that, this moron keeps getting in the way... 

Ryoma couldn’t afford to shout and storm out of the room — it would agitate Julianus I. So despite the fact that he couldn’t show it publicly, Ryoma’s heart was filled with the dark flames of anger, which ate away at his reasoning, little by little... 

Maybe I ought to just have him liquidated and be done with it... The thought crossed his mind. 

If he were to send the Igasaki clan’s leading ninjas, they could quite possibly assassinate even a knight captain. Ryoma and Grahalt both glared at each other, their eyes locked in a fierce gaze. Each of them knew that looking away now would mean relinquishing the initiative to the other. A chill settled over the room. 

“Aren’t you rushing to conclusions, Sir Grahalt?” The bright, all too inappropriately cheerful voice of a woman cut through the tension. “Lord Mikoshiba hadn’t finished his explanation yet. Like King Julianus said, we’ve gone to the trouble of arranging for this secret meeting. We can decide whether this plan is good or not after we finish hearing everything he has to say, yes?” 

Hearing those words, Ryoma felt those flames of anger die down. 

Crap, my thinking’s getting too impulsive... This situation is putting me up against the wall too... 

Removing nuisances by force wasn’t a mistaken choice in and of itself, but it didn’t apply for every situation. If he’d planned out the assassination meticulously it might have been a viable idea, but he couldn’t afford to act recklessly and create new enemies for himself in the process. 

And given how bad their situation was, he couldn’t afford to lose any allies, as stupid as they may have been. Cutting this man down would have to be a last resort. 

“Lady Marinelle... Do you truly think there’s any merit to listening to this man’s plan?” Grahalt’s expression contorted at the sound of these surprising words leaving the lips of the woman he didn’t expect to say them. 

If a general of an expedition sent by a neighboring country was willing to listen, even Grahalt couldn’t afford to insist. Ecclesia had far more achievements and merit under her belt, after all. 

“But of course. It is a fascinating idea...” Ecclesia said, turning her gaze to Ryoma. “Lord Mikoshiba, yes...? I’ve heard of you. You made quite the name for yourself when you helped Queen Lupis quell her civil war. Isn’t that right, Lady Helena?” 

“Yes, he’s the finest tactician and strategist I know of...” Helena nodded deeply. “I’ve already told Grahalt of this before, but it seems my words fell on deaf ears.” 

Helena shook her head regretfully. She realized that this was a critical moment for them, and if she were asked if there was another way out of this situation aside from Ryoma’s idea, her honest answer was that she could see no viable method. 

“B-But his idea, it’s so preposterous that it’s not even worth paying any—” 

“Enough, Grahalt,” Julianus I chided him. “You will be quiet and hear Lord Mikoshiba through to the end.” 

Grahalt’s expression was overcome with doubt. He’d realized no one here was on his side. 

“I apologize for the interruption,” Julianus I continued. “Grahalt understands his position here now. Please, continue.” 

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Ryoma nodded deeply and began explaining his tactic. 

His explanation included his prediction of what the queen of the kingdom of Helnesgoula, Grindiana Helnecharles, was planning. 

With the meeting over, Helena and Ecclesia remained in the room. The two sat on two opposite sofas set by the window. 

“My apologies for asking you to stay, Lady Helena,” Ecclesia said as she filled the wineglass in front of her. 

It was an expensive bottle of red wine brought in from the central continent. A distinct, exotic aroma filled the air, making it clear it was made from the finest grapes of the central continent. Even in Myest, which had rife access to the sea’s trade routes, it was hard to come by such a bottle. 

“Oh, don’t let it worry you. I’m just glad to have a chance to speak to the famous, heroic Lady Ecclesia,” Helena said, bringing the wine glass to her nose. “And I even get the chance to have this wonderful wine.” 

After taking a long breath to savor the aroma, Helena took a sip. 

“They don’t call it Shadora’s Blood for nothing. Such a thick flavor...” Helena nodded in satisfaction, relishing the sublime balance of sourness and sweetness spreading in her mouth. 

But with that said, Helena placed the wineglass back on the table soon after taking that sip. That wasn’t to say the wine wasn’t to her liking, but simply that she wasn’t here for merrymaking. Ecclesia aptly realized Helena’s intent and parted her lips. 

“Lady Helena. That one is... very sharp.” 

“Yes. As far as I know, he’s a first-rate warrior. Indeed...” 

“And a master tactician.” 

Helena nodded. Ryoma’s capacity as a warrior was clear from his physique, but his true worth lay in his intellect. He was capable of truly ingenious stratagems, and even had a way of reading other people’s hearts. 

“But his proposal there wasn’t... something I can honestly call wise,” Ecclesia whispered, her voice tinged with confusion and some fear. 

That was something Helena felt once before. But since Ecclesia was closer to being in opposition to him, her fear was even stronger. Helena knew, however, that submitting to that fear would only leave them on the path to ruin. 

She’ll be fine, though... If anything, she may see him as a worthy rival. 

A person’s heart can be a complicated thing. Some people submit to their fear, while others are capable of properly controlling it. And some people are capable of using fear as sustenance, of growing through overcoming it. With that thought in mind, Helena replied to Ecclesia’s words. 

“No, it isn’t. Even during the war council, people have mentioned the idea time and again...” 

“But over the last year, no one has managed to make that ploy work. Do you think Lord Mikoshiba is capable of it?” Ecclesia asked her imploringly. 

“I don’t know.” Helena shook her head. “I did feel, for a moment back in the meeting, that he might be able to do it... But I’m not sure if he’ll be able to get the Vixen of the North to make her move.” 

There was no falsehood to her words. It was a perfectly plausible possibility. But if she were asked if she was absolutely, positively sure of it, she would have to shake her head in denial. Truth be told, she thought it was a 50-50 chance at best. But the hypothesis Ryoma brought up earlier was certainly convincing. 

“What do you plan to do next, Lady Ecclesia? Are you going to report this to Myest...?” Helena asked Ecclesia. 

If Ryoma’s plan were to work, it would have major consequences on the power balance in the western continent. Even though she was given command over Myest’s armies, Ecclesia’s authority as a general wasn’t enough on its own to decide whether to accept Ryoma’s proposal. Even if it was for the sake of winning the war, it would have lasting effects on the diplomatic and economic aspects of the country, no, on the country’s entire way of being. 

“Of course. I’ve already sent a runner. I can’t make that decision of my own accord...” Ecclesia said, directing a firm gaze at Helena. “But I do think we ought to adopt his proposal. I think that upon reading my written opinion, my liege will agree.” 

Her eyes were alight with honesty. This was proof that she admitted that Ryoma’s plan was viable. 

“I see... But will it not take a while until we get their response?” 

Regardless of whether they agreed with Ryoma’s plan or not, neither Ecclesia nor Helena had the authority to make that decision. But there was a major difference between the two generals. Rhoadseria’s national power was greatly exhausted, and they had few choices left. They were unlikely to refuse Ryoma’s idea. 

But the same didn’t hold true for Myest. They had the military strength and finances to drag out the war for several years, if necessary. Were Myest’s king to reject Ryoma’s proposal, he could elect to enter the war himself. 

And regardless of what he chose, it would take time to come to a decision on this matter. But despite Helena’s concerns, Ecclesia’s response was decisive and clear. 

“I will wait for the king’s decision to the very last moment, but if his word does not reach me in due time, I will have no choice but to push things along by my own decision.” 

Those were words that, depending on how one interpreted them, could be seen as a declaration of revolt. One couldn’t say this without a great deal of resolve. 

“You would act beyond the king’s orders? In the name of the kingdom?” 

Ecclesia answered Helena’s question with a mischievous smile. 

“Considering the war’s aftermath, Xarooda, Rhoadseria, and Myest ought to act as one here. That much is undeniable truth. His ploy will only work for so long. I’m sure you know this, Lady Helena, but if we let this timing pass us by, our chances of winning will decrease significantly.” 

Helena nodded silently. Even the most brilliant of ploys can change with the passage of time. Every passing minute or hour can make things swing in a different direction. What might have been the most successful tactic one day could be rendered obsolete and hopeless in the next. 

Having led soldiers to war for many years, they both knew this perfectly well. Abiding by the king’s word was the duty of a general in service of the country. But if the pursuit of that duty led to them letting the chance for victory pass them by and led to their countries falling to ruin, it would defeat the whole purpose they were fighting for. 

“Should my liege refuse the proposal, I shall hand over my head. Though I will admit that seeing everything turn out exactly as Lord Mikoshiba predicted does strike me as a bit unpleasant, too...” 

Having earned for herself the title of ‘The Tempest,’ Ecclesia could count the number of times she’d had the initiative snatched away from her during a war council on one hand. Even in cases where she didn’t quite hold the initiative, she always spoke her mind as a general. Not this time, though. She hadn’t been this easily manipulated since her late teen years, when she became head of House Marinelle and set out on her first battle. 

But while she did believe Ryoma Mikoshiba to be an impudent one, Ecclesia was overjoyed. She could vividly feel the presence of a rival worthy of her prowess. 

“My, would you look at the time...” Helena furrowed her brows, hearing the clock installed on the wall ring out. “I apologize for keeping you up this late.” 

The time was already past midnight. They had so much to discuss that the time had passed by before they knew it. Helena believed knights were to maintain a strict lifestyle, and so it wasn’t often she stayed up so late outside the battlefield. 

“That’s not true,” Ecclesia replied with a calm smile. “It’s my priceless chance to speak to Rhoadseria’s Ivory Goddess of War. I quite enjoyed it.” 

“My. Hearing the Tempest herself say that is more flattery than I have any right to accept.” 

The two laughed, and then took up the glasses resting on their tables and drank them up in one go. 

“I was quite anxious as to what would happen when I was ordered to join the reinforcements and go to war, but thanks to Lord Mikoshiba, things are shaping up to be interesting...” Ecclesia murmured. 

A key fortress was set up by the O’ltormean army in Xaroodian territory, meant to facilitate their invasion of the kingdom. The name of that place was Fort Noltia. It was on the east side of the mountains along the Xaroodian-O’ltormean border. 

The fort was built on the entrance to the Ushas Basin, forming one of the key positions for the O’ltormean invasion of Xarooda alongside the fort they set up on the Notis Plains. It had several layers of empty moats and a wall made of sturdy stone. Sentries kept vigilant watch over important points in the base. All of this made the fort’s importance clear. 

Sitting in one of the fort’s rooms was Shardina. She reclined against a sofa while Celia delivered a report. 

“The supplies and soldiers gathered in Fort Notis should reach the planned numbers within two weeks time. Taking into account the time it should take them to travel, they should reach here within a month, assuming no interruptions from the Xaroodian military... That’s the report regarding our supplies.” Celia cut off her words, raising her eyes from the white sheet lined with numbers. 

Fort Notis was a depository for the supplies they’d gathered within the empire. From there, the convoy went along a winding path around the mountain to enter Xarooda’s land. 

“Good... It seems we’ll finally be able to settle this.” Shardina heaved a sigh, shaking her head tiredly. 

War never does go the way you hope, does it...? 

The invasion of the east was a long-lasting endeavor, set to take a great deal of effort and years of time. The first battle in that campaign, the battle for the Notis Plains, went smoothly enough, but the war took an unexpected turn following that. 

Shardina had assumed that, however long the initial outbreak of the war dragged on, she would conclude that stage within six months at the latest. But the year that had passed since had very much been a cursed one for her. 

Defeating General Belares cost her as many knights as she slew, and Helnesgoula invaded Xarooda’s northern border, forcing her to hold back her main force’s advance to probe for their actions. 

That was the beginning of her troubles. 

To counteract that turn of events, Shardina split her army in two. Separating her main force, she sent one half of her army to keep Helnesgoula in check, which in and of itself was a sound and obvious play to make as a commander. 

Even looking back now, Shardina didn’t think she was mistaken to do so. But the fact of the matter was that this choice was one factor that led to how drawn out the invasion of Xarooda had become. 

Had she given swift pursuit with her full forces following her victory on the Notis Plains and wiped out the remnants of the defeated army, she would have surely conquered Peripheria by now and began planning the invasion to Rhoadseria... 

And to add to it all, splitting up her army made organizing her forces take longer than it should have, and that only served to make her position worse. A single man used that small amount of time to gather up the remnants of the Xaroodian knights and hole up in the mountainous region. 

“We can finally crush that irksome man...!” Shardina whispered the biggest reason the war had dragged for so long, biting on her properly maintained thumbnail furiously. 

Biting her thumbnail was one of Shardina’s bad habits, which manifested whenever she was terribly annoyed. Seeing this, Celia heaved a slight sigh, gentle enough to not be noticed by her angered liege. Truth be told, Shardina’s behavior wasn’t fitting for a member of the royal house. Some countries’ nobility would outright mock it. Still, Celia couldn’t criticize Shardina for it, since she shared that same habit. 

Nonetheless, if a soldier were to see the imperial princess bite off her nails in anger, it would cast shame on O’ltormea’s reputation. 

I should ask a maid to do Her Highness’s nails after this... 

Making that mental note to herself, Celia spoke the name of the man who had been the source of Shardina’s headaches for the past year. 

“You mean Joshua Belares, Your Highness?” 

“Because of that accursed man, all my plans have been going awry...” Shardina spat out the words, and then heaved a heavy, exasperated sigh. 

After his father, General Belares, died an honorable death on the Notis Plains, Joshua consolidated the remaining forces and made a retreat. While both sides lost an equal number of troops, the fact that Xarooda’s side lost its supreme commander meant victory went to Shardina. As impressive as the knights of a militant country like Xarooda were, coordination and command mattered more in a war. 

From Shardina’s position, claiming the life of the man known as Xarooda’s Guardian Deity so early into the war was a victory in and of itself. And indeed, Xarooda didn’t have anyone else to match General Belares’s glory. 

The captain of the royal guard, Grahalt Henshel, and captain of the Monarch’s Guard, Orson Greed were known among the surrounding countries, but only in regards to their skill as warriors. They may have been capable of commanding their knight orders expertly, but they lacked the capacity to oversee the battlefield as a whole. Their capacity for tactics and strategy was greatly inferior to Shardina’s. 

Still, the invasion that should have gone on to be easy pickings for Shardina was met with a counterattack by Xaroodian forces led by Joshua Belares. Despite making severe sacrifices, her attack ended in failure. 

Her preparations against a Helnesgoulian attack meant she had fewer forces to launch an invasion with, but even so, she was leading the armies of O’ltormea, the supreme ruler at the heart of the western continent. Even when divided, she’d prepared more than enough troops to crush a defeated army, whose chain of command had been destroyed due to General Belares’s death, and march deep into Xarooda’s lands. 

But her plans were dashed by Joshua. And it wasn’t that Shardina had made any foolish decisions. Joshua made apt use of the mountainous terrain’s characteristics, the valley’s poor visibility and winding roads, to swiftly exterminate the pursuing units sent after him. 

He then turned to defensive tactics, exhibiting skill and command ability worthy of his fabled father’s name. His actions motivated the Xaroodian nobles, who were racking their brains as to how to protect their country and territories and saw him as a national hero... 

That was how the third son of General Belares — the one seen as an uncouth, disgusting whelp — took the stage by storm. By now he’d gathered reinforcements from the surrounding nobles and volunteer soldiers from among the commoners, creating an army of 15,000 soldiers, which exceeded Shardina’s expectations. 

“At your request, we’ve specifically brought in knights skilled with fighting in mountainous regions and unconventional warfare from across the empire. Joshua Belares will find beating us isn’t as easy as he thinks,” Celia said. 

“Good... I should send a thank you letter after this.” Shardina nodded. 

Numbers give one the advantage in war. This was generally true, but wasn’t always applicable in every single battlefield. Xarooda’s territory was divided by precipitous peaks and thick forests, making it hard for a commander unaccustomed to such terrain to mobilize an army. 

Furthermore, while the full-body metal armor the knights wore offered excellent defense on even ground, on the elevated terrain of the mountains, it only weighed them down and wasted their stamina. Xarooda’s knights were accustomed to the terrain, but the same couldn’t be said for O’ltormea’s. 

Still, O’ltormea gathered information from the locals over a long period of time and at considerable expense, successfully drawing a detailed map of the area. With this and the use of knights practiced in the use of non-conventional warfare gathered from around the empire’s vast lands, victory should have been within arm’s reach. If two armies were equal in terms of the quality of their troops and the locational advantage, numbers would become the deciding factor. 

If we can push Xarooda’s nobles to double-cross their country, we will have gained the strategic victory... I just need to make sure I don’t make any needless mistakes. I don’t need to have my prey escape my clutches a second time... 

Negligence, conceit, arrogance... Shardina knew all too well that it only took one error in judgment to push one off the pedestal of the victor and into the quagmire of the defeated. A strategic victory elevated one’s chances of winning up to 99 percent. It was winning on the tactical level that pushed one’s chances up to 100 percent. 

“Also, His Majesty has sent you a letter...” Celia took a letter out of her pocket while Shardina was still lost in thought. 

“Oh, Father... He must be urging me to finish the conquest of Xarooda faster.” 

Over the past year, he’d sent her weekly letters by carrier bird or courier on horseback. She could guess the letter’s contents easily enough. Truth be told, the repeated letters felt bothersome by now. 

But while they were parent and child, there was a great difference in standing between Emperor Lionel and Imperial Princess Shardina. Shardina absolutely could not afford to stuff the letter into her drawer without unsealing it. Sighing once, Shardina sat up from the sofa. 

I can understand Father’s impatience, and yet... 

As vast as O’ltormea was, there was still a limit to its national power and how many troops it could mobilize. Regardless of this campaign, there was still constant fighting on the borders with Helnesgoula and Qwiltantia. They were only minor skirmishes, but they could develop into full blown wars at any time. The emperor’s desire to see this campaign end as soon as possible was understandable. 

“Let me see it,” Shardina said. 

Celia handed her the letter without a word. Shardina broke the seal and skimmed through the letter from the emperor, but as she did, her expression darkened. A click of the tongue escaped her well-shaped lips. It was a far cry from Shardina’s normal conduct, where she strove to maintain the dignity and grace expected of the empire’s first princess. 

Whatever’s in that letter, it can’t be good... 

Seeing the change in her liege’s attitude, Celia felt dread settle over her heart. 

“You should read this as well...” Shardina said, handing her the letter. 

“M-May I?” Celia asked as she took it. 

I see... So that’s why... Celia quickly read the letter, her expression clouding over just like Shardina’s. 

“The Vixen of the North’s finally made her move...” Celia uttered. 

Helnesgoula’s army is on the move. 

Seeing those words etched on the letter, Celia couldn’t help but sigh in irritation. 

“Their second formation is still only garrisoned near their border with Xarooda, but...” Shardina said. 

They’d suspected things might turn out this way since the beginning of the war. But it had been a year since the battle at Notis, and Helnesgoula had done nothing. And now, just as O’ltormea was about to launch a full-scale offensive on Xarooda, they made their move. To call this bad timing would be an understatement. 

“And just as we’re on the cusp of dividing Xarooda... Why does nothing ever go our way?” 

It was as if the god of fate was opposed to O’ltormea’s prosperity. But realistically speaking, Helnesgoula likely sent countless spies to Xarooda to keep a close eye on Shardina’s movements. 

“Did our plans leak somehow...?” 

“In all likelihood...” 

From the Vixen of the North’s perspective, O’ltormea’s expansion was a developing risk to her country’s safety. If O’ltormea were to annex Xarooda’s territories, Helnesgoula would be surrounded by its most powerful rivals. It would have Qwiltantia to its west and O’ltormea to its south and east. 

“Do you really think they’ll join the war?” Shardina asked. 

“Who’s to say? Personally, I think that chances are this is another bluff. A year ago, Helnesgoula declared war on both us and Xarooda, but they’ve only occupied a northern border town. They haven’t made any signs of heading south since. If they were going to interfere proactively, they’d have done it back then.” 

“So you think Helnesgoula has no desire to advance south?” Shardina asked. 

Celia nodded. After the battle at the Notis Plains, Helnesgoula broke through the Xaroodian border and occupied one of its border towns. But while the Helnesgoulian military remained garrisoned there for a year, it hadn’t made any movements since. They’d simply remained on the border, accepting Xaroodian messengers every now and then. 

“One year ago, you stopped our military’s march upon hearing of Helnesgoula’s interference with the war. So I have to wonder if this is another bluff meant to prevent us from launching an assault...” 

“Even if it is, we’ll still need to think of a countermeasure,” Shardina concluded bitterly. 

The most bothersome part of this whole affair was, even if it was a bluff on Helnesgoula’s part, Shardina would still need to be prepared for the possibility that they did something. Otherwise, she’d be powerless in the event that Helnesgoula’s army marched south on them. Even if they had no intent of doing so now, that wasn’t to say they never would. 

When Helnesgoula first broke the Xaroodian border, Shardina sent them a messenger. She knew it would be ignored, but figured it didn’t hurt to try. She proposed that they split up Xarooda’s territory half and half, but the messenger was sent away without a chance to give his message. 

With the situation being what it was, Shardina couldn’t afford to send out her entire army and expose herself to attack from another rival. 

We’ll wait for our reinforcements to arrive, draw Joshua Belares out into a field battle, and win there... Then, once Xarooda’s morale plummets, we swoop in and divide the country to the north and south at once... A swift, decisive battle... That’s our only choice. 

Shardina thought back to the plan she’d devised beforehand. The northern power wouldn’t even come to the bargaining table. If she were to keep being wary of their movements and hesitate to act, the war could linger for years and she wouldn’t be able to occupy Xarooda. 

Shardina spread out a sheet of fine quality paper on the table and began writing on it with a quill. 

“I’ll call Sudou back from Rhoadseria. Once the units sent around finish their battles, they’ll begin preparing for the decisive battle. And I’ll send this to Father... You confirm it, too.” 

Abiding by her liege’s words, Celia opened the letter. Upon seeing its contents, her eyes widened. Akitake Sudou was currently in Rhoadseria, acting as an operative of O’ltormea. On paper, his position was that of a close aide to Radine Rhoadserians. But much like last year during the battle at Notis, he could function as a temporary staff officer for the war effort. 

To begin with, Sudou was an otherworlder, but Celia’s grandfather — Gaius Valkland — had acknowledged his capabilities. Within O’ltormea’s intelligence organization, he was distinguished for his skills and service. 

Now that Gaius was gone, it wouldn’t be odd for him to take over the organization as his successor. The fact that he was still out and about, operating in the field, was down to how he was capable of dealing with things swiftly and decisively, coupled with Sudou’s own preference for being in the thick of things. And so, in exchange for being allowed to do so, Shardina summoned him to aid her at times. 

I imagine he’ll create some kind of clever pretense and come swiftly to Her Highness’s side. He does love war... But all the same. 

The problem was the other name on the letter. 

“I understand calling Sir Sudou, but why Sir Rolfe, Your Highness?” 

The captain of the royal guard, whose praises were sung across the empire as the Emperor’s Shield. As one of the emperor’s most trusted subordinates, he was the chief executive in charge of the emperor’s security. Rolfe would only take to the frontlines when the emperor himself entered the fray. 

“No commander can best Sir Rolfe when it comes to defensive battles. I have no other choice... We can’t allow this fort to fall while we storm the frontlines.” 

“You think Xarooda’s army might move to cut us off from the rear?” Celia asked. 

Shardina nodded silently. If the enemy were to take advantage of the opening while Shardina’s forces moved forward to conquer the frontline fort, they would be cut off from the rest of their army. Given Xarooda’s remaining forces and the quality of their commanders, Shardina didn’t think it was likely they would make such a gamble, but Shardina aimed to be perfectly prepared for every contingency. 

“So you would have the royal guard defend this fort?” Celia asked. 

Calling Rolfe, the captain of the royal guard, inevitably meant calling the knights under him. Shardina shook her head, however. 

“No, I don’t intend to put the royal guards in motion. I’ll have him defend this base with his personal aides. Sadly enough, this is the only way I can possibly conceive Father agreeing with... We can’t afford to lose this war.” 

Celia nodded silently, sensing the firm resolve in Shardina’s words. She then bowed, turned on her heel and left the room. 

“That’s right... I can’t afford to lose... For Father’s sake, and in the name of my ideals...” 

Now alone in her room, Shardina whispered those words to herself one more time, as if to reaffirm her determination. She stared out the window, at the eastern sky. 

If one were to establish lasting peace in this war-torn western continent, they would have to become absolute sovereign. Electing to go to war in the name of peace sounded contradictory, but it was the honest ideal held by the Lion Emperor, Lionel Eisenheit, and his daughter Shardina. 

As the motives of many crossed and intersected, a battle which would decide the fate of the Kingdom of Xarooda drew closer by the minute. And all the while, the sound of the massive beast of the north’s footsteps echoed in everyone’s ears, as it made its way south...