by Funa
Glimmering wings of ice appeared behind Mile’s back, and a glowing ring of light formed above her head, both locking onto her.
“Cavorite, go!”
With the gravity around her negated, Mile kicked off, floating around ten meters up into the air. There she paused for a breather, staring upwards and huffing with exertion.
Ugh, this is already getting out of hand! I’m wearing a mask, sure, but that doesn’t mean that no one’s gonna figure out who I am. And on the off chance that someone does guess my identity…
Why, if someone figures out who I am because of this, I’ll have no chance of living a normal, happy life ever again!
Realizing this, Mile was already at her wits’ end.
She vibrated the air so that her voice would reach every last one of the imperial soldiers’ ears.
“FOOLISH CREATURES!”
“Wh-what the heck is that?!”
“A bird?”
“A wyvern?”
“No, i-it’s…”
“A g-goddess…”
The Albarnian troops were utterly shaken. Her voice booming, Mile began to speak again.
“Justice without power is meaningless, but power without justice is a grievous sin. And thus, as your goddess, I render upon you the punishment of death. Vile sinners, repent!”
Already, things were a huge mess. In her desperation, Mile began running through the relevant entries in her encyclopedia of phrases that she had always wanted to say.
“Sh-she’s a fake! There’s got to be some kind of trick here!” One man, who appeared to be an officer, shouted, trying to placate his disturbed subordinates. Yet, trick or not, there was no building or tall tree in the vicinity from which one could suspend a person in midair, and things such as cranes and piano wire had yet to be invented in this world. Moreover, most people in this world did believe in such things as gods and devils. Even this officer would never dare say that there was no such thing as a goddess.
All the same, he could not be expected to direct the army to pack up and leave just because a supposed goddess told them to. If he went back with a report like that, it would see him decapitated or hanged. Of course, such matters were no business of the rest of the soldiers. Punishing commanders and officers who could not handle the pressures of their job was one thing, but no official would dare to levy capital punishment on 5,000 soldiers.
Thus, the soldiers stood where they were, refusing to take another step.
“Men who would invade without issuing a declaration of war are no soldiers, no army. They are villains—brethren of evil! Such foul creatures would never be welcomed into the warrior’s haven of Valhalla upon their deaths. The only invitation you lowlife brigands shall ever receive is a one-way ticket straight to perdition! Now, accept your divine judgement!”
Just then, a magical formation in the shape of the head of a wolf appeared in midair. From its open mouth, an enormous sound rang out over the imperial soldiers.
“Raucous Thunder!”
A divine, punishing thunderclap released from the wolf in the sky rained down upon all foes: Raucous Thunder.
Flash! Ka-booom!
Silence fell.
The space around was filled with an almost terrifying silence, and the Albarnian troops stood, mute.
The people of the capital, who had heard everything thanks to Mile’s sound vibration magic, were equally silent.
The only sound that rang out, both from outside of the capital and within, was the deafening quiet of fear. Some people sunk in terror and awe; others’ eyes shone with hope and reverence. Yet everyone ceased moving and stared up into the sky.
What do I do now? Mile fretted.
No one moved a muscle. No one said a word.
I can’t just keep floating here forever…
Currently, she was waiting for the imperial soldiers to turn tail and retreat. She certainly did not really intend to strike all of them dead with lightning. However, not a single one had made a move…
When Mile looked behind her, towards the Ascham troops, she suddenly saw something particularly visible from her elevated vantage point.
To the north side of the capital, on the opposite side from the Albarnians’ approach, was a mass of soldiers, already nearly upon the city. Their numbers were far more vast than those of the enemies to the south: a sea of soldiers four, maybe five times the numbers of the imperial regiment, perhaps even more. Considering that they were approaching from the north, it was quite impossible that they would be soldiers of the Empire. Which would mean that…
This group was the Royal Army of Brandel—a conglomeration of the king’s own men and the forces of each noble’s lands. In fact, Mavis had spotted them far more quickly than Mile, who had her back turned to the capital while she had been up in the air.
“Wh-what…? But Pauline and Mavis both told me that they probably wouldn’t be sending out their troops just yet! Did those guys just speed up? They must have just noticed the Albarnian soldiers… Guh! Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. Never mind the Albarnians—I can’t let them notice meeeeeeeeeeeee!!!”
Mile muttered aloud to herself, but thankfully was no longer utilizing her sound vibrating magic, so no one else could hear her. Panicking, she descended straight down at once, plowing back through the imperial ranks and running straight back to meet up with Reina and the others.
“G-guys, we’ve gotta go, r-r-r-right now…”
“Time to retreat!” Reina directed, cutting in.
“Okay!!” shouted Mavis and Pauline.
Mile, a beat behind, mumbled, “Okay…”
Thus, the so-called Order of the Crimson Blood vacated the scene at high speed, running off to the south. Meanwhile, on the battlefield they left behind…
“Colonel! Enemy forces have been spotted to the north of the capital!” said an officer, relaying a semaphore message from the lookouts stationed up on an elevation, keeping an eye on the status of the battlefield and capital.
“What?! But all of the Ascham army is holed up in the capital.” The colonel, still not quite recovered from the so-called goddess who had vanished as suddenly as she had appeared, expressed his disbelief.
“Th-that’s not it, sir! It’s not the Ascham army. They think it might be the royal army! We haven’t been able to yet confirm the number of soldiers yet, but there are at least 20,000 and possibly far more!”
“Wh-what did you say?!”
If they were to rush in right now, at full speed and at full force, then they might be able to make it into the capital before the royal army arrived. However, if they were to then position themselves in the capital, where the three hundred men of the Ascham army were stationed, they would be surrounded by aggressive townspeople, trying to face off against an army many times their size. That would be a suicide mission.
Furthermore, the capital was not a fortified citadel. There were no walls surrounding it, no castles. With their supplies so diminished and even their archers short on arrows, there were few pros and many cons to entering a place like that. At the very least, the circumstances were not sufficient to satisfy the “Three Times” Rule of Offense—that one needed to possess an offense that was three times stronger than the enemy’s defense in order to prevail.
Furthermore, fights had already been breaking out among the imperial soldiers, they’d barely had anything to eat in the past few days, and the water in their canteens had dried up ages ago. Their mages, having had to use their magic to come up with any drops of water they possibly could, were now in no state to do much more than move. Troop morale, physical condition, and loyalty were at an all-time low—there was no way that the Albarnians could take on an army of this size in their condition.
“Why?! Our analysts all predicted that the Crown would never respond immediately, that they would leave all their weak, remote territories to rot and set up their defenses just outside of them. They said that they would never act until they were completely ready to move! That was why we nev
er mobilized any troops outside of this regiment and why we made it clear that this was not a full-blown play for the capital of Brandel—that intel was supposed to be reliable! Don’t tell me that they figured out the second stage of our plan for when we would face off against the kingdom’s counteroffensive?!”
Trying to forecast an enemy’s movements boiled down to little more than personal opinion. Even when one was in possession of completely reliable information about the enemy and an accurate understanding of their psychology, one’s predictions could still be way off. Needless to say, there were also many instances where the analysts possessed insufficient or incomplete information, and their enemies might try to outwit them—or they themselves might act on a sort of wishful thinking, assuming the circumstances to be in their favor.
“We have visual confirmation of the enemy vanguard! They’re bearing flags of the armies of each noble household of Brandel, and—yes! Those are the king’s colors, and the royal coat of arms itself!” the officer shouted.
The colonel was floored.
“Why? Why would they come at us with this much force, just for the sake of some insignificant little fief out on the borderlands?! The royal family, you say? I can’t imagine the king spearheading those troops himself—could it be the first prince? The second prince is still too young, but would they really risk their crown prince, a sharp young man who carries all of the kingdom’s hopes for the future, on a battle like this? Inconceivable! They would never do such a thing!”
Seeing the state into which the colonel had fallen, one officer, already resigned to incurring his superior’s wrath, spoke up. “Colonel, your orders, sir! We haven’t any time to delay!”
Whether he was going to tell them to attack or to retreat, he had to do it quickly. He could not simply let his men stand around and be run down by the enemy. Even if the order given was for a reckless assault that was certain to see them all annihilated, a soldier abided by his commander’s word. This was the resolve that shone in the officer’s eyes as he looked to the colonel.
“Soldiers, retreat! About face, on the double! Withdraw from the battlefield immediately!”
The officer looked at him peculiarly. It would not have been at all surprising for this particular colonel to instead give the order to attack. Realizing this, the colonel scrunched up his face in self-deprecation and muttered, “I don’t care if historians of future generations label me an ‘idiot,’ but, ‘the fool who sentenced 5,000 men to a pointless death’ is a little bit much…”
Then, he raised his voice and bellowed, “Quickly, will you?! If we don’t move out of here faster than the enemies arrive, they’ll catch up with us from behind, and we’ll be wiped out! Permission is granted to discard anything you don’t need for the return trip. Now, hurry!!!”
The officers took off running in various directions. If they abandoned all of their weapons and supplies, there was at least a slim chance that they might be able to escape from the enemy army, which was still fully laden, with a supply unit in tow. As long as they could maintain enough of a distance for them not to be taken captive…
***
“Seems like we’ve bought ourselves a fair bit of distance. Let’s change directions now and start heading east. If we went south from here, we would have to go straight through the Empire, which would mean keeping the the imperial army on our tails the whole time.”
The Order of the Crimson Blood—or rather, the girls once again known as the Crimson Vow now that their mercenary duties were finished—had been moving south to avoid the armies of both Brandel and Albarn, but now it was about time for a change of plan.
Pauline, however, raised an objection to Reina’s proposal.
“Just a minute now. There’s something I’d like to take care of first. The imperial soldiers won’t have any time to detour to the river, and at this rate it’s possible they’ll end up dying of thirst. There’s no way that the water that a few low-ranking mages could produce would ever be enough to meet the needs of 5,000 men, along with their horses, who require even more… Most soldiers aren’t necessarily villains or criminals, and I’d like to help them out a bit…”
It was rare to have mages fighting on the front lines at all, along with the other basic recruits. Anyone who had sufficient magical ability to use it in combat would not accept the position of common foot soldier, where the danger outweighed the pay. Even in times of emergency conscription, they could still file a petition for wages, and if they ever willingly took a position in the military, they were welcomed at the rank of officer, at least. In other words, there were very few mages on the scene in this instance.
Furthermore, the amount of water that could be produced via magic had a known limit. The amount of water that a human requires each day is around two liters. For 5,000 men, that was ten tons of water. Plus, every horse needs around thirty liters of water a day—the same amount as fifteen men. The elites of the army were much more likely to favor one horse over fifteen foot soldiers. Even if you were to bring together all those who could use enough utility magic to produce very small amounts of water, there was simply no way to compile enough magic to summon up ten-odd tons of water every single day. Never mind that drawing that much water all in one place would suck the air dry, creating an inhospitable desert.
Those who could use their magic for combat were also quite unlikely to want to use all their magical strength on something as trivial as gathering water. That was as good as ordering a soldier on the battlefield to abandon his sword, and there were few mages who would ever accept such a command. At best you might ask them to relinquish half of their magical stores to the task, or two-thirds at most.
In other words, to keep driving the soldiers on recklessly, without even enough water to function, meant that it was only a matter of time until corpses began to fall.
“Whaaat?!” the other three screeched, staring wide-eyed at Pauline.
“Who are you?!”
“Are you an enemy mage in disguise? Where’s the real Pauline? What did you do with her?!”
“Reina, Mavis, keep away from her!”
“Wh-wh-wh-wh-wh-wha…”
The three then found themselves on the receiving end of a tirade from a massively enraged Pauline…
***
“Wh-what did you say?!”
The crown prince Adalbert, who was in charge of the Brandel royal army, was in shock.
“Well, your Highness, it was just as I said. A goddess manifested and granted us her protection. It was the spirit of the late daughter of the true line of Ascham, ascended after her death for the sake of her… Uhhoohoo…”
Juno, head of the Ascham military, began to weep.
Leaving the pursuit of the imperial army to the royal and noble forces, the Ascham troops had stayed behind to aid in the defense and restoration of their own lands, supporting the villagers in rebuilding their fields and homes. Currently, forces had been dispatched to each village, and Juno stayed behind to give his report to Adalbert, while the captains of each unit tended to their own men. Prince Adalbert, in turn, left the duties of pursuit to his subordinate generals and remained behind in the capital of Ascham as well.
There were a number of reasons why Adalbert had come to act as the leader of his father’s army. First off, to have a counterassault led by the crown prince himself would serve to show the Empire just how serious they were. Secondly, his authority would help to maintain command over all of the lords’ armies. If things went south, there was a chance that some grubby marquis or other might try to butt in and wrest control, but with Adalbert himself serving as commander, such presumptuous behavior was unlikely.
Plus, wiping out the imperial forces, who never showed any real signs of planning an invasion, with a number that was many times that of their own was a simple task. Upon doing so, they could boast that they were a country that protected even its most outlying citizens. It was a just cause, it would win them the support of these borderlands, and it earned a bit of c
lout for Adalbert, who had had no practical military experience until now.
Of course, given the dangers of this task, and the trouble that might result from Adalbert taking an injury in a place like this, the prince was not actually allowed to take charge of the pursuit. Instead, it was determined that he should “give direction from the capital of Ascham, which had held up so valiantly during the initial action.”
It was an utterly absurd situation all around—but of course, that fact had also been taken into consideration.
Had this territory been the domain of any other noble family, then the imperial analysts’ predictions would have been correct. The kingdom would not have rushed into battle at great pace, underprepared, yet overflowing with resolve. Instead, they would have undergone a far lengthier process of preparations and then made a heartfelt appeal to each of the noble houses on the grounds of creating a united front in the face of the Empire’s act of aggression—all that before they would have even considered making a move.
Indeed, on first hearing about the invasion, the king had appeared mildly surprised but otherwise kept his composure. However, when he was told of the place that was being invaded, he instantly became distracted and enraged. He ordered an emergency dispatch at once, without so much as holding a conference, or even stopping to listen to anyone else’s opinion on the matter.
Normally, the prime minister, cabinet members, and other high-ranking nobles would have been expected to raise a conscientious objection to the their king making such a unilateral decision, but for some reason they all immediately assented without a single protest, setting out at once to assemble the Royal Army—an emergency assemblage of the king’s troops, under direct control of the king, along with a royal dispatch from each of the noble houses.
It would have been one thing if the kingdom itself was in danger, a neighboring country trying to nip off some little borderland would not have been a very pressing matter for anyone beyond those impacted directly—i.e., the people of the threatened fief themselves and their neighbors.