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Chapter 3
“Must’ve been wiped out… tsk.”
Monclay sat astride his white horse and thought of the company he’d left behind as a shield.
The 1st Company — always the vanguard — a blade. Backing it up were the 2nd and 3rd Companies. In total five hundred soldiers. A unit known within the battalion for experience and fierce fighting.
They should have been the spearhead. He had no doubt they would become sharp arrowheads, cut the imperial army to pieces and turn the tide. Victory should’ve been a given.
“It really should’ve been…”
The vanguard’s attack had been feeble. Not only had they failed to break through, but Monclay had even witnessed the strange phenomenon of the imperial troops seeming to swell in number. What should have been a weapon had to be used as a shield.
They had been offered up as nothing more than a sacrifice to preserve their side’s forces.
Still, there was one important fact to be gleaned.
“A unit with unusual dress and movement.”
Among the strangely swollen ranks of the enemy, some stood out as unusually strong-looking. They wore iron girdings on one arm, used them like shields, moved fast and sleek, and were merciless to their foes.
“No doubt about it.”
They were the killing machines that the Marquis Bueno Argen had raised — intelligence gathered by agents infiltrating the empire had indicated as much.
With that understood, the reason for defeat became clear.
“They weren’t knights by talent, but they gathered those whose talent lay in slaughter.”
So Monclay had no choice but to pull his forces back before paying an even greater price. To preserve as many troops as possible, and to hold cards to play later for a reversal, they had to secure a place to pin the imperial army’s feet.
“Use whatever means necessary to stop them!!”
“Do not let the imperial bastards cross Trever Bridge!!”
“If this place falls, remember your families will be ravaged and butchered by those despicable imperial soldiers!!”
“Give your lives! Fight! Do not retreat!!”
Monclay looked toward the battlefield happening in the middle of a bridge wide enough for twenty grown men to pass abreast. He watched from a slightly sloped mound with eyes that had put past defeat behind them and were now reading the process of victory.
Soldiers of the Azrion Kingdom in blue armor piled corpses without regard for friend or foe to form a barricade and held back the red-armored soldiers of the Roden Empire. It was the combat that followed days and nights of pursuit and counter-pursuit. Neither side could predict victory — a stalemate.
“Yes. If they hold a little longer…”
Monclay was fairly satisfied with the soldiers’ dogged defense on the bridge. If they could hold, the reinforcements prepared for the worst-case scenario would soon arrive.
Just then, his adjutant pointed at the battlefield and shouted.
“Commander!! Over there!!”
Monclay followed the adjutant’s pointing finger with his eyes. Precisely — beside the ongoing fight at the bridge.
“Ah!”
Monclay was horrified.
From the imperial camp across the Trever River, someone emitting a blue light was slowly turning the flowing water to ice.
“Those despicable imperial bastards have hired a mage!!”
Monclay’s face went deathly pale as he ignored the adjutant’s shout and fired a frantic question.
“Have we received their report yet?!”
“Because the retreat was swift…”
Rian Kaid, having left the Dandelion Plain behind, ran through the rolling low hills of the Greenwave Forest, thinking of where his allies might be.
“Trever Bridge.”
It was obvious that to try and swim across the broad Trever River would be suicidal: the swift current would sweep you away or drown you. To get to Northheim they had to pass that place. Unless Monclay was an idiot, he’d be desperately defending it, Rian judged.
“Will they call a knight?”
Even holding the bridge wouldn’t be enough to handle the Roden forces. To swing the tide they’d need at least one knight to come down from the main battle at the Twin Gorges. Only then could this bypass route to the capital be defended. But was that realistic?
“They’re probably tied up stopping the empire’s order of knights in the Twin Gorges already.”
If a knight was withdrawn from there, the balance of the gorge battle could collapse and lead to a larger defeat. Did the kingdom have troops that could substitute for a knight? Maybe the dukedoms or countships, but at least in the royal domain here, there weren’t any.
“Phew… this’ll be tough.”
If only the company captains had known Monclay would have to meet the enemy at Trever Bridge…
“Never mind. It’s done. No use looking back. Monclay’s not an idiot.”
Rian shook off the creeping negative thoughts and focused on running.
It was a night of running alone. He buried himself in the ground and rested under brush. He washed in flowing streams and drank. He ate jerky and dried vegetables taken from enemies to stave off hunger. In that process he felt the ordinary steadiness of his organs and limbs.
Or rather, it might have been more than ordinary. With minimal rest and food he could still operate for prolonged periods without trouble. Whether the improvement in his body was a power gained by overcoming death, or the result of persistent training through a hard life, he didn’t know.
“Well, no need to separate those possibilities.”
If he’d improved, that was fine. Keep improving. He’d keep going as always until life ended — survive and continue.
Thud—!
Rian kept running. He climbed through the green-rippled Greenwave Forest and reached the last mound.
Before him spread a field of grain, still unripe green waves. He could see the troops of the Roden Empire stationed along the Trever River, swarming their positions.
Having run through a short dawn rest into midday, he could broadly perceive the imperial army’s movements from afar.
“Prepare to advance!!”
“If we get past here, all the land we passed will be yours!!”
“““Waaaahhh!!!”””
The Roden soldiers’ roars of assumed victory reached Rian’s ears. He wondered why they were certain of victory, but the reason was not hard to find.
“The river…”
A river that usually didn’t freeze even in winter had frozen — large enough for the imperial main force to cross.
So there was only one answer. Only one being could create such unnatural, artificial ice.
“A mage.”
The empire had hired a mage. To freeze that much flowing water would require at least an intermediate mage.
Hiring such a being was difficult — you’d likely have to pay a huge sum for a single battle’s participation; it was almost luck if you could even solve it with money. And yet the empire had hired one.
Did Monclay expect this? Probably not. Had he known, he wouldn’t have attempted the plains battle at all.
“In any case, we can’t let the whole imperial army cross the river.”
Rian watched the Trever River and thought. Fortunately, the forces over the river weren’t panicking and didn’t seem likely to retreat immediately.
Even if they crossed the ice, combat on the slick surface would be difficult for the imperial troops, so it looked like they intended to somehow stop them there.
“Then…”
Rian’s eyes darted as an idea formed. He looked toward the place where the blue light rose from the enemy camp’s corner. He shifted his foot down the slope with a face that said he could do something.
Thud—!
“I’ll stop the mage.”
If he could stop the mage, that alone could drown the empire’s soldiers walking on the ice.
Even for a mage, continuously freezing flowing water like that without extreme winter would be hard. The mage would have to maintain the ice by sustained injection of mana; they had to disrupt that mage.
“I have no choice.”
He knew it was reckless. He wouldn’t avoid death. There would be guards protecting the mage — maybe those elite soldiers called shadows. Given why the marquis’ shadows would be here, it would be reasonable to assume they were protecting the mage.
Still, doing nothing and watching his allies be defeated would be no better than a senseless death.
“I can do it. I must. It’s something I can do.”
He figured the mage would be immersed in their spell. If he struck at the moment the imperial soldiers started to cross the ice, it might even be easier than he thought. To cast such a wide-area spell, the mage wouldn’t be able to focus elsewhere. If he interrupted the spell at the point it couldn’t be undone, the imperial troops would be doomed.
It was worth risking his life. Even if he met eternal death, it would be better than doing nothing and watching his side lose. So he ran without hesitation.
Thud—thud—!
Rian darted across the grain field and reached the imperial camp. A commander sensing movement turned and saw him.
“Huh?! Who are you!! Which unit are you with?! Orders to advance have already been given!!”
The commander stopped his unit’s march across the ice and stepped toward Rian.
“Sorry. I have urgent business.”
Rian touched his belly in a small salute and briskly passed the commander.
“What a fool! Pee your pants if you have to, but how dare you leave the unit? Which unit are you with? Hey?! Come here!”
“I will correct that!”
The commander, scowling, shouted at Rian, but Rian shrugged it off and skirted around the clustered imperial troops, running on.
Given the commander’s order, someone could have grabbed him, but it didn’t happen.
“Crazy! I’ll remember your face! See you after the battle!!”
The commander stopped trying to pursue and only shouted as he hurried off with his men toward the ice.
No one suspected Rian belonged to the kingdom forces.
He’d already slaughtered the cleanup unit on the plain and was disguised in imperial armor, so it was natural no one recognized him.
“I disguised myself as imperial troops so they wouldn’t notice while I moved. Works well.”
And the urgent, chaotic combat left no room for suspicion on the empire’s side — as if a goddess of fortune had briefly veiled their eyes.
Thud—!
Rian sprinted past the imperial tents and headed for the mage.
Whiiish—!!
A cold wind kissed his cheek — a winter wind conjured in spring by the mage.
“Huu…”
Rian slowed and caught his breath.
Step—.
He walked between tents. Shadow unit members came into view.
About thirty in number. They wore the same attire as the man Gerard had once worn when he’d taken Rian’s life.
None of them were ordinary. From physique to the imposing aura held in their immobile guard stances around the mage.
“What’s this? Soldier. You lost your way?”
One of them spotted Rian and asked with wary eyes and voice.
Step—.
Rian walked calmly toward them.
“Nope,”
He confirmed in his chest that the Gerard who’d stabbed him was not present.
Then one of the guards, scrutinizing Rian’s armor, put a hand on the sword at Rian’s waist and spoke.
“Are you wounded? The medic’s tent is on the other side.”
The bloodstains and stab marks near his abdomen had raised the man’s suspicion.
“Desertion is punishable by immediate execution. If you don’t want to die, get out. If you come any closer I’ll cut your throat.”
Screech—.
The elite soldier barked like he’d kill Rian if he tried to explain. A tense standoff with five paces between them.
Rian answered calmly to the man who drew his sword.
“Gerard ordered half the escort to support Trever Bridge.”
It was an off-the-cuff lie. Whether it was Gerard or someone else didn’t matter; invoking Gerard’s name might create a crack. He judged this was a good time to use the name. But the man in front of him snorted and furrowed his brow with killing intent in his eyes.
“A spy, huh. You.”
Worst case. Was Gerard really Gerard? No, could he forget the name of the man who’d stolen his life? Gerard was certain.
He had no choice but to keep up the act.
“Th-that’s not it! I came to relay orders as instructed.”
Not a bad excuse. The soldier who had drawn his sword sneered.
“Our top priority is protecting Norfin. Do you think Gerard would be ignorant of that?”
“……”
Rian had poured oil on the fire. Other soldiers who’d been watching began to approach as if to confirm.
“Maybe that bastard is a spy too?”
“Cut off his limbs and interrogate him; we’ll find out.”
“Why not use this chance to make Gerard the real spy? How about it?”
“Heh. I agree.”
Hmm. The situation was veering down a wrong path, but it wasn’t entirely bad for Rian.
Screech—.
“Enough. He’s on our side.”
Rian drew his sword.
