Chapter 125 - 10-12
Bishop Kabel Kofie awoke before dawn.
Someone was by his bedside. Two eyes were looking down at him. The Bishop gasped in shock.
This was a manor located within the grounds of the Maslow Church. Bishop Kofie would have been fine with a general lodging temple. However, the ambitious Bishop of Maslow had forcibly shoved the Bishop into this manor, a facility intended for nobility.
"Your Eminence," a woman's voice said. "Dawn is soon. Will you go?"
"I shall."
The woman silently presented his clothes. They were dark, monastic robes.
The Bishop climbed out of bed and dressed.
The Bishop of Maslow had likely locked the room, saying things like, "Safety is paramount." He probably intended to keep the Bishop under house arrest under the guise of that so-called safety.
This woman, Marvel Boony, had somehow managed to undo the lock.
"Travel preparations are unnecessary. Hurry."
"The Princess is likely still in Famana."
"That is precisely why we must go outside to find out."
Led by Marvel, Bishop Kofie stepped into the corridor. The hallway was pitch black. Marvel gripped the sleeve of the Bishop's garment and pulled him along. They passed through some room and descended a flight of stairs once. It was too dark to be certain, but it seemed they passed through what looked like a kitchen.
After passing through a small door—likely a service entrance—they were already outside. A faintly brightening sky was visible.
"Could it be that it is just the two of us?"
"Shh."
There was a gate leading to the cemetery behind the church, and Marvel exited the city through there.
The city of Maslow seemed to be hushed. However, the silence only extended to the area around the church. Once they passed a single street, they reached a district where bonfires were lit and many soldiers were present.
"It is the Western Army," Marvel said, though it was unclear how she told.
Marvel avoided that district and walked through the back alleys without hesitation. Along the way, they passed a district where burnt houses lined the street, and the smell of scorching still lingered. Then, Bishop Kofie suddenly remembered.
The city of Maslow had been struck by a great fire caused by enemy spies. It was said that a woman employed by the enemy army had done it.
—Does the Kosa Empire also use women, just as the Church does?
When he first heard the story, Bishop Kofie had merely thought that.
The Bishop gazed at the back of the woman walking before him.
"I asked before, but is it just the two of us?"
"I shall protect your person, Your Eminence."
"Kaitas, Arsius, and the attendants will be panicked. There will be a great commotion."
"Then, will you return?"
Marvel looked back with a sharp gaze. An unsettling air, like bloodlust, leaked through her irritation.
"...No, let us go."
Rather than feeling afraid, Bishop Kofie felt a sense of amusement. It was too late to panic now. The true identity of this woman would likely be revealed soon.
More importantly, the Princess.
If it was Princess Lucy, she could stop the war. To stop any further bloodshed, he had to meet the Princess. To meet her, he needed this woman's power. If he dithered, he would not make it in time.
The city gates were open, and soldiers were busily entering and exiting.
The two of them, posing as a hooded monk and nun, kept their faces lowered and left the city. The soldiers were in a state of turmoil. No one stopped them to question their identity.
"We will go along the river," Marvel said.
It was the Balkov River, a great river of the east that gathered the mountain streams, running north and south. There was likely a road along that river.
If they took the highway, they might be discovered by soldiers and ultimately sent back to Maslow.
"Are there no soldiers along that river?"
"There are, but since it is a road used by many commoners, we will not stand out."
"I see. Marvel, shall we rest a moment?"
"Already?" Marvel had eyes that looked genuinely surprised. "Are you exhausted already?"
"No, we have walked quite a bit. And I have not eaten breakfast."
Marvel looked Bishop Kofie, whose breathing was ragged, up and down from head to toe. Then, she clicked her tongue blatantly.
The Bishop felt miserable. It seemed this would not be an easy journey.
Lucy Alish could not sleep.
She stood with her legs apart in the open air. With wide-open eyes, she stared at the horizon. The gradations from white to ultramarine created by the twilight were painting over the starlight. The forms of the two armies deployed to the south were not visible. However, she felt she could sense their presence. Lucy could not look away.
When the retreat of the Siddim army was reported, Lucy had withdrawn from Famana.
However, she did not pull back as far as Maslow. She established her base in a village called Tobai, slightly north of Famana. Laicanel Thora had opposed it, but Lucy wanted to be as close to the soldiers as possible.
"Princess."
It was some time after dawn had broken.
While her cheeks were dampened by the honey-colored dawn light, Lucy looked back.
Hume Razor, a swordsman whose hair had turned completely white, was kneeling.
"Nona wishes to speak with you."
Behind Hume, Nona, her former maid, was waiting.
"Welcome," Lucy smiled.
Upon hearing Nona's story, Lucy was struck by a sense of surprise.
An unexpected person was requesting a meeting with Lucy.
"I will not negotiate with the enemy."
Lucy spoke bluntly. Though she had not intended it, her tone had apparently become cold, as Nona looked flustered.
"Nona, to respond to negotiations now is to admit defeat."
"Princess. I believe that winning through negotiation is the only true victory."
Nona peered into Lucy's face with an expression as if she were about to cry.
Lucy had many things she wanted to say. She suppressed them. Nona was a precious friend, but Lucy did not wish to simply humor her. She felt that Nona's opinion represented one of the opinions of the people.
"I understand. I will meet them, at least," Lucy decided. "However, there will be no negotiations with the enemy, Nona."
"Thank you, Your Highness."
How should one interpret the maid's smile at that moment? It was a lonely smile. Yet, Lucy felt there was sympathy for her in Nona's moist eyes.
Even when it became time for breakfast, Lucy did not move from the spot. Kiara served her bread and water, and she finished her breakfast while standing. It was immediately after that. She saw about ten cavalrymen galloping together. They were not carrying messenger flags.
Lucy returned to the manor.
In Tobai village, where Lucy was staying, many villagers had evacuated, though some remained. The village head was one who had stayed, and Lucy was renting a room in the village head's manor.
While waiting in her room, seven or eight soldiers arrived, as if bringing and kicking up the dust of the battlefield with them. One of them was Laicanel Thora. The soldiers were surrounding a single man.
"Speak," Laicanel said, and the man, who was on one knee, raised his face.
"It has been a long time, Your Highness."
The eyes looking at Lucy were sparkling.
It was Ludo Matinee, who had previously painted Lucy's portrait.
The face she had seen while he suppressed yawns was nostalgic to the current Lucy.
"You painted me, didn't you?"
"I am deeply moved that you remember. Ah, how nostalgic the Siddim language is. Ah, Princess, how magnificent you have become. You are Siddim itself."
In Lucy's memory, Matinee was a person who spoke in a low voice with downcast eyes.
Something must have happened.
Matinee's face looked slightly dirty. Lucy noticed it wasn't mud, but that he was tanned a reddish-black. His hair was disheveled, and his beard had grown wild. He held that face up proudly, narrowing his teary eyes as he looked at Lucy.
"Your Highness, I shall speak briefly."
Lucy listened with interest to Matinee's adventure tales of crossing to the south to study painting. If it weren't for a time like this, it was a story she would have wanted to hear while taking her time, preparing tea and sweets, and asking various questions.
"You met with the enemy general, didn't you?"
"That is correct, Your Highness. I also met with His Excellency Hilboro, who became a prisoner despite his brave fighting. Your Highness, I have come here under the orders of His Excellency and with the permission of the Great King. The enemy general is requesting negotiations with this side."
Matinee formally and quite splendidly delivered Great King Geraha's message.
"I understand well. However, I will not meet with Geraha Wolf," Lucy said, without looking at Laicanel, who looked as if he had something to say. "It means that negotiations are impossible."
"Do you mean in the current situation?"
"They are impossible for the future as well."
"I understand," Matinee said simply. "Allow me to state my personal opinion."
"I allow it."
"I presume it is your profound wisdom, Your Highness, that deems it too early for discussions. What is truly to be feared is not defeat, but the quagmire of war. As a single citizen, I cannot help but be grateful to Your Highness for your efforts to end the war."
"That is your opinion," Lucy smiled. "The war will not end; it will not end. Please tell the Great King as much."
"Haha," Matinee's Adam's apple bobbed. "I have spoken out of turn. Regardless, I am embarrassed by my meager skill, but..."
Matinee held out a rolled-up piece of paper he had been carrying. Hume, who was waiting behind Lucy, stepped forward and took it. When opened, it was a portrait. Lucy could not help but smile.
"It is a magnificent face."
It was undoubtedly the portrait of Geraha Wolf. Lucy had heard the Great King was an ugly monster. He was certainly not a handsome man. The painted face possessed dignity and seemed reliable. Matinee's brush was sharp. It felt as if the history this person had walked through was visible.
That made Lucy smile.
Had this person not been loved by many people?
Not in terms of romance, but there was a strange familiarity.
And this person seemed to be overwhelmed, bewildered, and exhausted by that immense outpouring of affection. Or perhaps this impression was Lucy projecting her own emotions onto the person in the painting.
—No, that's not it.
Lucy thought she was different. She liked Siddim and the Siddim army. She held pride. Lucy had immersed herself in the position of Commander-in-Chief with all her heart and soul. She had been so absorbed that she found eating and sleeping to be tedious.
"You said the enemy general has already seen my portrait, didn't you?"
"Yes. I have long wanted to resolve that unfairness."
"Are you returning to the enemy camp?"
"Yes," Matinee nodded. "The Great King said it would be fine if I did not return, and that I should use someone else. However, I will return. I shall convey Your Highness's words from my own mouth."
"I am worried. Is it safe?"
"Rest assured. The Great King is fair."
Lucy nodded. The world, the society, is not fair. The Great King likely intends to correct that fairly. Lucy thought that perhaps the unfairness of this world had given birth to the man called Geraha Wolf.
"Why not rest for a night before returning immediately?"
Being spoken to by Laicanel, Matinee gazed at his face.
He had a masculine, strangely sensual face. Matinee's creative desire was stirred.
"No, I have been told by His Excellency Hilboro to return immediately."
"Is His Excellency well?"
Just as Matinee was about to answer, the bear-like giant of a man behind the Princess strode over. "Hey, portrait painter, can I have this painting?"
"Yes, uh, I intended it as an offering."
"The enemy general is like a monster," the giant with graying hair said. "Laika, I have something to discuss."
Laicanel and the giant began to speak in low voices.
—What a troublesome fellow.
Laicanel said with a melancholy expression.
"Matinee, Hume will escort you to the main camp. Give my regards to the enemy general."
The young master of the Thora family left, his cloak fluttering. He was a stylish man.
Mounted on the horse of the bear-like giant, Hume Razor, Matinee departed.
"Do not tell the enemy general the Princess's location," Hume said.
At the Siddim army camp on the north side of Famana, Matinee met Yugis Necrat. Yugis approached cheerfully.
"This is a surprise!"
Yugis came over, his left sleeve shaking uselessly. Matinee was shaken.
"Yugis-kun, ah, how terrible. The battlefield is a cruel place."
"No, embarrassingly, this wasn't done by the enemy."
Apparently, after parting with Matinee, he had fallen off a cliff. That was a miserable accident in its own right. Matinee wanted to hear the detailed circumstances, but he did not have much time.
"Yugis-kun, are you listening? Various things happened, and this war—"
"I'm listening. The Great King wishes for negotiations, or something like that."
"However, Her Highness flatly rejected negotiations. Yugis-kun, I haven't told anyone that I know you. I feared the Kosa army might tell me to paint your portrait. Your name is being whispered everywhere."
"A bad reputation?"
"A bad reputation indeed. Everyone is afraid of you. That is why I have expectations. I want you to win. I came to say that."
Yugis nodded. "I shall win. That is why I even went to Koroi-kun's place."
"Listen, the enemy camp is—"
"No, let's leave that. If you say the wrong thing, your own safety will be at risk. Instead, please tell them that lunch on this side will be on time."
"What does that mean?"
"If you tell them, they will understand."
"Since it is not an early lunch, it means the decisive battle is tomorrow," the Great King said with a laugh. "The enemy general seems to be a woman who understands things quite well. Let us let the soldiers rest this afternoon."
Matinee reported that Princess Lucy had kicked away the negotiations.
The Great King did not react particularly.
"Did she say anything about my portrait?"
"That it was a magnificent face."
"As irony?"
"Hardly. She is a general of an army and a princess of a nation. She is not made to mock people's faces."
"Not made to, eh." Great King Geraha looked toward the north. "Did you meet Yugis?"
"The military strategist? No."
The Great King fell silent. Matinee also kept his mouth shut and remained silent.
"I simply cannot understand it," the Great King eventually said. "Why refuse Kosa? If they open the country, it will become prosperous. We would protect the survival of the Siddim royal family. What is it they dislike?"
"Siddim has too many things it has built up," Matinee replied deftly. "Siddim is Siddim. It is not Koroi, nor is it Kosa. It cannot become anything other than Siddim. The only one with the qualification and power to return that to a blank slate is the Tenshu-sama. For one who is not the Tenshu, it is too much."
"You said it!" the Kosa Great King raised a resonant voice.
Matinee was struck by that intensity.
He felt as if a great storm that had been blowing all night had gathered its gale in an instant and poured it over his entire body. In that instant, Matinee felt as if he had glimpsed half of his own life.
"Well said. Very well. Let us put it to the test."
The Great King was not angry. He was excited.
"I acknowledge results. Therefore, you too acknowledge the results."
"That, of course..."
"I've started looking forward to it. You see, Matinee, I absolutely, absolutely want to prove that what my elder brother said was true. I must prove it no matter what. —Do you know my elder brother?"
"No, Great King, well..."
"Fine, fine. You must be tired from being up all night. Get some sleep. Return to the Twin Forts at your leisure. Let us speak again. If we can speak."
The Great King let a faint smile float on his lips and returned his gaze to the north.
Matinee was placed in a tent for prisoners and lay down next to the snoring Hilboro.
He thought about the Great King's elder brother. It didn't seem to be about Mozu Wolf. Before he knew it, he had fallen asleep. He woke up after sunset.
"Painter of Karnain," Hilboro said.
"Huh?"
"Your snoring is terrible. Do something about it."
"Your Excellency's was also terrible!" Matinee retorted indignantly, and together with Hilboro, he readied himself and left the tent.
Prodded by several cavalrymen, he boarded the bed of a supply wagon. It was a bed equipped with a cage. He was placed inside the cage and transported while being put on display.
Along the way, they passed a planked road where the Marsh Fort was visible. Brightly lit fires illuminated the soldiers both inside and outside the fort.
Since idle chatter was forbidden, Matinee and Hilboro looked at each other in silence.
From there, there was a distance to the Twin Forts. The road was winding and the slope was steep. It was like a mountain path. There were many small streams that had gouged the land like small canyons. Across this valley, running up steep slopes and running down them, the two armies had fought. They had run across hills that would make one breathless just by walking. They had clashed as enemies.
Kosa army soldiers were everywhere. Soldiers performing some task seemed to be piling up the corpses of Siddim people. Soldiers roaming on horseback seemed to be hunting remaining enemies.
They arrived at the Twin Forts probably around midnight.
Just as the fort, warmed by bonfires, came into view, the supply wagon stopped.
"Stay here. Do not move," the transport official said. It seemed something was happening.
Do not move, indeed—he was inside a cage.
The transport official and the escort cavalrymen all handled their reins and departed on their horses. Matinee and the others were left behind in the cage. Listening carefully, there was no sign of people around. There was a feeling that no one was there.
"Hey!"
Hilboro called out. The Kosa people did not return for a long time.
The wagon was left abandoned for a very long time. Eventually, the pack horse harnessed to the wagon shook its head and began to walk. It must have been hungry from being overworked.
"Whoa, whoa, now now."
"Stop, stop."
When they spoke, the pack horse instead accelerated light-footedly. Matinee and Hilboro began to wander through the dark grasslands at the whim of the pack horse.
The next morning, with the sunrise, the soldiers wolfed down breakfast and rushed one after another to the battlefield where they were preparing.
There was still time before the start of combat. It looked like it would be fair weather, continuing from yesterday.
The Siddim army deployed in the grasslands where morning mist still lingered.
Their position was slightly higher than the south from where the enemy was coming. To the west was forest, and to the east was farmland. Further east of this farmland were scattered groves, and beyond the groves was an artificial wall. The city of Famana. Yugis deployed in a way that placed the city of Famana diagonally to his left.
Immediately after the retreat, Yugis had been anxious. He had sweated so much that handprints would remain if he touched cloth. The more he thought, the more his thoughts slid on the surface, and the correct answer drifted further away. He only calmed down after reuniting with Matinee.
—The Commander-in-Chief rejected the negotiations.
It was an absurd story, and hearing it made him feel calm.
The Princess still believes in him.
Yugis decided not to make detailed plans. He would dive into the situation. In the previous battle, there had been something forced about the part where he made the center retreat. It wasn't necessary; something simpler would be better. Push, just keep pushing. Move forward even one step.
Yet, the courage to stand before the enemy unarmed and defenseless was something Yugis actually lacked.
He was not a genius. He could not risk human lives without some kind of policy. He could not feel at ease unless he thought until his brain wore out, envisioned various situations, and kept one "this is it" plan hidden in his gut.
Yugis's trump card was Famana. Inside the walls surrounding Famana, the Western Army was packed tight. Depending on the case, he would deploy them. Yugis had opened the city gates of Malfa. The enemy army understood this well. The enemy army would think that the city gates of Famana might also open. A suspicion of "might" was enough.
That suspicion should act like poison on the enemy general. Great King Geraha would not be able to ignore Famana. If the Great King's consciousness was drawn to Famana, a gap would open somewhere.
With the uncertain element of Famana, the enemy could not settle in. There should be room for Yugis to take the initiative here.
The sun rose slightly higher.
The enemy army advanced with their usual discipline, their footsteps in unison.
A single arrow was shot into the blue sky.
This was to scout the deployment locations based on where the arrow landed.
Yugis trembled inwardly. Something he had seen once before appeared before his eyes again. The enemy army's formation was almost unchanged from the day before yesterday. Heavy cavalry on the left and right, and a vertical column of infantry in the center. It was as if the enemy had come exactly as they were, unscathed. What was this confidence of the enemy?
"Young Master," Dash spoke in a low voice.
"What?"
"Are you alright?"
"I don't really know," Yugis said. "Well, I'll think about it a bit."
If it were something that could be understood by thinking, Geraha would not be scary.
Because it cannot be understood by thinking, Geraha is strong.
—But, this.
In the fact that they came in exactly the same form as last time, could he not read the Great King's intention?
The reason Geraha insisted on the same form as last time was, so to speak, a formal beauty.
The enemy had placed Famana in the front, driving a single large wedge into this side.
Against this, Geraha thought it would be easier to fix the axis of the enemy's thinking if he also gave it some kind of meaningful form. The enemy did not yet fully understand the mobility and striking power of the vertical column. This was a point to exploit.
A vertical column could become an oblique formation if tilted, or a horizontal line if knocked over.
—However.
What decides a war is the strike. Hitting hard and striking down the enemy. Geraha had won through mobility. But mobility was, after all, merely a device to strengthen the strike even slightly.
A vertical column is extremely difficult to break through from the front. The enemy inevitably wants to move to the flanks. They want to go around the sides even if it means making the front weak. On this side, they could simply break through the now-thinned front with dignity.
The enemy could devise any strategy they liked. On this side, it was a club.
Last time they managed to escape, but next time he would smash them.
Conversely, Geraha had not won last time. As long as a strike had not been delivered, it was not a victory, and the enemy had not lost.
"For now, we have no choice but to besiege the city of Famana."
"Understood." Hazab seemed weak against the cold and was wearing a fur coat. "According to Kirikiri-sama, the siege engines arrived during the night."
"Hmm."
Even if a siege were conducted in this situation, they could not concentrate if a field battle were fought behind them. Likely, no results would be achieved. Rather, they would have to look after the backs of the besieging army, and this side would be held back.
"For now, a blockade is sufficient. Create a form that isolates Famana. Tell Kirikiri-don not to get ahead of himself."
"Understood."
The sun rose high, and it was nearly the right time. Hazab returned to Geraha after handling everything at his discretion. The tension of both armies was transmitted through the air.
"Shall we go?"
"Yes!"
"The enemy will be fired up."
The enemy camp was strangely quiet. Geraha even felt an oppressive atmosphere.
"What is there to fear?" Hazab said. "Being with the Great King is our pride. Everyone!"
Hazab braced himself in the stirrups and stretched upward, shouting like a lion's roar.
"Tell the Princess of the enemy general! That the trampling of the Giant Bird God begins!"
Hazab's spirit was high. Geraha laughed.
Geraha was the only one who laughed. The lines of aligned soldiers returned a wave-like voice. Above the heads of the soldiers who seemed to cover the earth's surface, silver tips swayed. They were raising their spears and shouting. The sound of steel touching rustled. The glitter of polished tips moved up and down like triangular waves. A vast line of faces stretching as far as the eye could see, all of them with brows furrowed and mouths wide open, were shouting.
Eventually, arrows covered the sky like black spray, and just as the Giant Bird God spreads its wings, the cavalry deployed across the earth's surface.
In Famana, there is Shatona, a shoemaker's apprentice from the city of Bolsa. All five members of the Basil squad he belongs to are safe. It is something to be grateful to the Tenshu-sama for, but considering the probabilities, it cannot be called a miracle. The casualties of Laicanel's army, which surprised Brazm, were perhaps one in ten.
Was this a miserable number? Shatona did not even know. Regardless, it was something to be happy about that the Basil squad was intact.
The Basil squad, along with their parent unit, Stoke Company, was deployed on the walkway of the Famana city walls.
They had been recruited as an archer unit.
Shatona and Rolan, an apprentice confectioner, did not improve their archery much and were assigned to arrow resupply. Jado, the miner, could pull a strong bow. The captain, Basil, was a former hunter. He was a bow user capable of sniping. The one whose growth was remarkable was Aubrey, the farmer. For a time, Aubrey had no right eyebrow or eyelashes. He had practiced so much that the bowstring touched and pulled out his eyebrow hairs. Aubrey was the type to get obsessed with things.
The enemy was visible to the west. As the sun rose high, the enemy's spear tips glittered and they raised their voices. Whether that was the signal or not, the exchange of arrows began between both armies. Soldiers began to move.
Soon, enemy soldiers also arrived at Famana. Infantry and cavalry. It was a deployment intended to block each of the six gates.
The archers on the walkway immediately aimed at the enemy. The Western Army's bows flew well.
The unit deployed next to the Basil squad had bow bracers that were redder than those of the Western Army. They were Eastern archers. They held their bows ready, but they were not firing.
They were likely not yet within range.
"The neighbors are quiet," Jado said immediately as soon as the enemy showed a movement to keep their distance.
"They're shy. The men of the East," Rolan added, playing along. "Though the women of the East weren't like that."
The five members of the Basil squad looked at the neighboring unit while smirking.
Then, one of the Eastern archers suddenly let fly a single arrow.
Of all things, it hit an enemy cavalryman who was in a somewhat close position. The Eastern archer had been drawing the enemy in.
"The Western lot are impatient, aren't they?"
"I wonder if they'll wet themselves just by touching a woman," an Eastern soldier said, smirking while looking this way.
"Hey," Captain Basil lowered his voice. "Do not ever lose to people like that."
After that, they concentrated on the enemy.
However, the enemy soon retreated to a position where their arrows could not reach. They brought in logs, timber, and thick ropes like nothing they had ever seen, and were assembling something. They thought it was a defensive fence, but it seemed different. Pillars were erected high.
—Siege engines.
Shatona noticed.
Immediately, the inside of Famana became noisy. It seemed they were opening the gates to sortie.
"Hey, aren't they retreating?" Aubrey pointed to the left wing of the Siddim army.
Indeed, the allied soldiers who had been slightly visible had retreated to a place where they could no longer be seen. Everyone was struck by a bad premonition. There was a feeling that Famana was about to be left behind immediately.
The enemy's vertical column is strong.
They strike like a battering ram.
Since it was the second time, Yugis did not flinch. From the Siddim position, which was on high ground, he looked down at the enemy rushing up.
The center of the Siddim army, aided by the advantage of the height difference, was holding the enemy back. They were not yet able to push them back. On the contrary, the enemy, covering themselves with shields to block the rain of arrows, was accumulating in front of them.
If this side's horizontal line was paper, the enemy's vertical column was a stick. They were trying to poke and tear the paper with the stick. On this side, they wanted to add thickness even by folding the paper in two or four.
But if they gathered soldiers in the center, the left and right would become thin. The enemy's wings were powerful. Furthermore, if this side's wings were cut, reserve light cavalry would likely fly in.
It was impossible to add thickness to the center and push from the front. In that case, the idea of wrapping the stick with the paper was possible. They would attack the flanks.
However, this would mean folding their long horizontal center. It meant the line they had to hold would extend. Because of that, the point of contact, the ramming point so to speak, would inevitably become weak.
In short, it was no good.
No matter what they did, the vertical column was no good.
They would lose by dealing with it. The place to attack was clearly not here.
"Strategist!"
Called by Aram Danforth, Yugis dismounted as if jumping off. He threw the reins to Dash and entered the central command post with a bouncing step.
"What is it?"
"The left wing is being pushed," Aram said with a bitter face.
"Why? Lauro's unit isn't weak," Yugis asked, not Aram, but himself.
Aram Danforth shook his head.
The portly Aram was beginning to exude an air of majesty. "The soldiers are exhausted. They may have developed a habit of fleeing."
"I see. —Inspector, your atmosphere has changed. Did you change your cloak?"
"No, well..."
Aram Danforth looked a bit embarrassed. On the collar of Aram's cloak, bird feathers were fluffing out. Thanks to that cloak, Aram seemed to possess the heavy presence of a crouching bird of prey.
"I didn't get a new one. I've had it for a while."
"It suits you, doesn't it? It's good, like a ruthless commander. My sword is new too. It's the big stage, after all. Inspector, let's shift the axis to the left wing."
"What do you mean?"
"We will also use a vertical column. We'll move the Eastern militia in the center entirely to the left wing and form a vertical column on the left."
"A hook formation?"
"Yes, imitating the enemy. We'll push the left relentlessly. We'll place reserve militia in the center."
Aram's face turned pale. The center would become even thinner. It didn't seem he was afraid. His face was white, and his lips were trembling.
"The Royal Army is a regular army! We shall hold the enemy and show them!"
"No, I know. Why are you angry?"
"I'm not angry! It's a warrior's tremor! Sibel!"
Aram shouted loudly, looking as if he might bristle his feathers.
—What a difficult man.
However, Yugis liked people like that. He also liked that he was stylish.
The enemy center is solid.
The height difference is not much. The damage from the enemy's arrows is not significant.
The heavy infantry in the enemy's front is simply solid.
"The center is impossible," Geraha decided.
"Both wings are pushing. The enemy's resistance is waning. There is no trace of the strength from the day before yesterday," Hazab said with bloodshot eyes.
"Let us reinforce the right wing." The Kosa side's right wing was east, toward Famana. "We must not allow Kirikiri-don's blockade to be threatened. Hurry the report from Maharishi on the left wing."
"Understood!"
Hazab galloped his horse with a leaping intensity. He returned immediately with the same momentum as when he departed.
"Great King!"
—The enemy on the right wing is pushing back.
Hazab spat his words.
"The enemy has turned a vertical column toward the front of the right wing!"
"A vertical column? They've deployed a vertical column?" Geraha instantly drew the enemy's deployment in his mind. "It's a hook. Are we being pushed?"
Hazab nodded.
The right wing was Huchi's unit. Geraha handled the reins and galloped his horse. He was surprised when he confirmed it with his own eyes. The fierce general Huchi Bass was struggling.
Tilt our center diagonally and support the right wing.
That was the first thing that came to mind. Geraha started to open his mouth, then closed it again. He fell into thought, rubbing his chin.
—No good.
Famana is there. If enemy soldiers overflow from Famana, the weight of the battlefield will shift to the east. In this situation, it's not the time to be dealing with the walls of Famana. It would mean turning our backs to the enemy center and enemy left wing.
—It's hard to maneuver.
Geraha had to admit it. He had been naive to think that by besieging it, he could deal with Famana.
Still, Geraha did not panic. He had a mind that reacted sensitively to threats, but he did not have the hypersensitivity to be frightened by them. He was somewhat dull. At this moment, Geraha remembered the words of the bloodshot Hazab.
—There is no trace of the strength from the day before yesterday.
Hazab had said so. Indeed, Geraha had the same impression. The enemy's momentum was decaying. This intuition was worth taking seriously. The enemy's strength would not last.
"Deploy the reserves," Geraha said.
He decided to use one of the two light cavalry reserves here.
"Circle around Famana to the north side and threaten the flank of the enemy's vertical column."
Since the walkways of Famana were packed with archers, the attack by the light cavalry's mobility might be weak. But Geraha saw that even with a weak force, if they pushed, the enemy would collapse.
However, they did not collapse.
The reserve move Geraha made ended in failure.
The enemy vertical column instead showed a movement of gradually approaching our blockade on the north side of Famana. In other words, they were approaching us. The lethality of the Kosa horse archers was high. Without missing their aim, they could shoot arrows into the gaps of the armor at the throat, even for armored infantry. Though the bows were short bows, the power was not small. The enemy's armor was well-made, but they pierced that armor. Even if they couldn't deliver a fatal wound, they should be able to force them off the front line.
People were falling. It should have been a sufficient threat. Yet, they did not retreat.
They came forward.
—They are still strong.
Did I misjudge the timing? I thought they would weaken soon.
Geraha felt a sense of foreboding. There was a sign that the tide was changing.
The Kosa Great King looked over the enemy camp once more. The enemy's characteristic flags stood in a forest, fluttering. Their number seemed to be increasing.
The right wing, the west side with the forest, is being invaded.
Hearing that, Yugis galloped his horse from the left wing to the right wing.
Upon arrival, he was wide-eyed. The right wing had changed the situation. They were supposed to be pushed, but they were invading.
Especially Vimherik's light cavalry unit. Coordination among the Eastern infantry was beginning to form.
The light cavalry were boldly diving into the enemy as if clearing dew. The defense of light cavalry was practically non-existent. They were like naked men. Amidst a rain of arrows, they dove in looking like they were in plain clothes. If bows and arrows were the weapon, one could attack from afar.
But Vimherik's light cavalry were different. Their weapon was the spear. They were a unit that dove into the enemy's chest, naked and carrying blades.
With that desperate, barbaric courage, they were intimidating the enemy. Intimidating the enemy and advancing the infantry in that gap—that form was working on the enemy.
—Not bad!
Yugis was amazed. On the other hand, he felt pain. Charging from the front was not the original role of light cavalry. It was too reckless. It wouldn't be strange if they were annihilated at any moment.
The leap of the right wing was clearly thanks to this recklessness. If he didn't make use of this, Yugis would be killed by his comrades this time for sure.
"Gallan!" Yugis called the captain of the Gallan unit. "Support Vimherik's unit!"
"I'm grateful!" Gallan's face lit up.
"Destroy the enemy archers from the flank and open a bloody path with the infantry. Break through the enemy from the right wing!"
As he was about to enter the battlefield, Yugis suddenly noticed.
It wasn't just the right wing; the center was also pushing the enemy back. What had been a situation where the enemy was climbing up until a short while ago was now a posture where the allies were descending. Something had changed.
—What is it?
Yugis narrowed his eyes, then opened them wide. He had been surprised many times in this war, but he had never felt the blood drain from his face as much as at this moment.
In the blue sky, flags were fluttering. The flags of the Siddim army stood in a forest. Their number was strangely large. It seemed to be the command post in the rear center.
"Gallan, can I leave this to you?"
"Yes!"
"I'm returning to the center."
"Leave it to me!"
"Dash, go with the captain and deliver a report to me!"
Leaving them behind, Yugis turned his horse.
"Young Master!" Yugis heard Dash's voice behind his back. "Young Master!"
A report arrived from the forest-side left wing commanded by Pusiteto's deputy, Maharishi.
It said they were under a fierce attack from the enemy.
Furthermore, a fast horse arrived from the city-side right wing. The north city gate of Famana had opened, and the enemy had sortied. They were in combat with Kirikiri's army.
The fires had risen not only on both wings. The center was also being pushed.
"Great King."
Hazab was waiting for orders.
Send reinforcements from the center to the left wing. As for the right wing, let them abandon the north side of Famana and lure the enemy to the south side, pulling them away from the enemy left wing. That would be the standard move. But was that really okay?
—That flag.
The red flag fluttering in the enemy camp, depicting a girl holding a sword.
Had the enemy general entered the command post? The Siddim army had clearly recovered their morale. Was the fact that they were challenging aggressively and boldly because their backs were being pushed by the gaze of the so-called Princess?
"Withdraw both the left and right wings. Change the vanguard in the center and launch a counterattack."
"Yes!" Hazab turned his horse.
It was just then that a messenger cavalryman arrived. It was Kijimute. He had come alone.
"I bring a report—"
Hearing the report Kijimute gave in a low voice, Geraha was lost for words.
It was said that the Twin Forts had been surprised and combat was taking place.
"The Western Army?"
"No, the enemy reportedly came from the mountains."
"From the mountains—" Geraha recalled the long face of Udoh Renne.
This was bad. Even the dull Geraha trembled.
If the response was wrong, it would become a great fire.
—But, what can be done?
"Not now," Geraha said, and he himself was appalled.
The feet of the Kosa army were bleeding at this very moment. Prompt treatment should be essential. If they did not respond to this bleeding, they would have no choice but to wither away. Organize a fast light cavalry unit by putting infantry on horses. Huchi is the only one who can be the captain. He should order that. He must order it.
No, no, it's impossible. He couldn't.
What kind of face had he been using to look down at Kijimute?
Kijimute was weeping with torrents of tears. "Great King, Great King..."
As it stood, they had no choice but to surrender. If they divided the army here, they would be pierced. But if they retreated showing their backs—
Retreat?
Would I lose, I of all people?
Against the Princess?
Against Yugis? Would I lose to the likes of Siddim?
—Have courage!
Geraha scolded himself. Have courage and admit defeat. Order the retreat. Huchi will surely hold the enemy main force here. He will serve as the rearguard more splendidly than anyone. While Huchi buys time, I will personally take command and pull back. I will annihilate the despicable surprise operation in an instant. Like a flash of lightning. I can do it. I'll show them.
—It's not over yet!
He looked up at the enemy flag. Geraha saw a light there. Not an actual light, but it merely looked like light. Geraha hallucinated a streak of light, like morning sun shining through a gap.
The two walls that had blocked the light were moving.
They were walls made of a single hedge. It was a movement like opening a sliding door. They were about to split to the left and right.
Understanding reached him instantly.
Both the left and right wings on this side had withdrawn. Geraha himself had ordered Hazab to do so. The enemy center was moving to the left, and the vertical column to the right, following those who were retreating. The right-angle part of the hook formation was about to split in two.
"Continue—!"
He shouted in a great voice that made horses rear.
Geraha drew and held up his barbaric blade. "Our goal is that flag, the daughter of Siddim!"
The reserve light cavalry moved all at once, their helmets gleaming black.
In the north, riding the giant horse Kazahana, who had been used as a pack horse for the wagon, Geraha ran at the front. He was a Kosa cavalryman. He was a black gale. He maneuvered at a speed that the thundering of hooves could not keep up with. He slipped smoothly between the allied units and ran up the slope with the momentum of a torrent climbing a hill.
He could see the faces of the enemy soldiers. They had expressions as if saying it was unbelievable. By the time they noticed, it was already too late. Far from filling the small gap, the enemy's light infantry fled in fear of Geraha's momentum.
It was a gaping hole between enemy and enemy.
The Kosa light cavalry galloped through there.
It was a central breakthrough of the enemy camp.
The enemy command post was diagonally to the front-left, and the war flag catching the wind was right there.
A woman dressed as a man, with blonde hair fluttering and a cloak waving, was looking at Geraha. It was Princess Lucy, mounted on a white horse.