Chapter 126 - 10-13
When an army breaks through enemy lines, the next step is the expansion of the achievement. Once a hole has been pried open, that hole must be widened. Just as there is no stopping a collapsed weir, once this happens, the hole cannot be plugged.
The Kosa army began their operations.
From the enemy's perspective, they were now in a position to be attacked from the front, the rear, and the flanks. Enduring this would not be easy. The hole continued to widen.
The Kosa cavalry immediately moved to collapse the enemy's longitudinal formation.
The surroundings were in an uproar. Amidst that, a stillness like a calming wind enveloped Geraha Wolf. The enemy general in his line of sight existed within that same silence. We are already bound tight, tied by something that cannot be severed, Geraha thought.
He thought he had known, but she was indeed a beautiful girl. And strangely, Princess Lucy carried an impression of disorder. Her golden hair was short, falling disheveled across her forehead and cheeks. And what of the wretched blueness of the eyes peering through that hair? The roundness of her shoulders and the swell of her breasts were covered by a chainmail that was nothing more than a thin garment on the battlefield. The rugged boots below her smooth leg lines suited her strangely well.
The white horse she rode was of a polished whiteness.
The two or three things scattered at the horse's feet—were they arrows fired from this side? The impression of disorder stemmed from things like that; this princess was too beautiful to stand upon a battlefield.
"Surrender! Princess of the enemy general!" Geraha spoke in the Enagamo language. "The war is over!"
"Challenger of the Kingdom."
What startled him was the princess's voice. For a voice coming from such a pale, slender body, it resonated well.
"This is my country. Siddim shall not be governed by the likes of you. Come back another time."
There were perhaps twenty cavalrymen around Geraha.
"Take her alive. Treat her with courtesy."
When Geraha spoke in a low voice, the soldiers moved toward the enemy command post with a gliding maneuver.
At that moment, cavalry appeared to intercept them. With a trot that seemed like a mere exercise, they appeared suddenly from behind the command post and, just as they were, collided diagonally from the front of the Kosa cavalry, as if plunging a dagger.
The scene of the collision became entangled. For a moment, Geraha lost sight of the enemy general.
Among the enemy cavalry, there was a shadow coming as if gliding with a cloak spread wide. The cavalry remaining as Geraha's guards immediately fired short bows. One arrow missed, and the enemy warrior took the second arrow in the head. A helmet flew through the air. It was a warrior with short-cropped blond hair.
The blond warrior brushed aside the barbarian blade of the guard who stepped before Geraha with a gauntlet, and thrust a spear in a motion that seemed to dive under the guard's armpit.
"I have wanted to meet you, Great King," the warrior said in refined Enagamo. "Knight of the Kingdom, Ness de Syllabus. I have dreamed of this moment."
Another guard cut down the spear along with the wrist of the man who called himself Ness. The barbarian blade flashed again like a silver platter, and Ness's head flew with a spray of blood.
Around the command post, Kosa cavalry were surrounded by infantry and had spears pointed at them.
A swordsman with graying hair was shouting something and waving his hand vigorously. The words were unintelligible, but he must have been saying "Run." Following the swordsman's gaze, the princess on the white horse was in the distance. She looked down at Geraha with cold, blue eyes.
His vision blurred, and there was a sickening feeling as if his sense of balance were flowing out of his body.
Geraha fell from his horse. Before his eyes was the satisfied dead face of Ness's severed head, which had turned due to the impact of the fall. Within the distorting scenery, Geraha saw a spear piercing his abdomen. Ness's hand, severed along with the gauntlet, still gripped the spear.
Two days prior, it was around the time Yugis Necrat was commanding the retreat.
Two mages visited the city of Slay in the southwestern part of Siddim. Slay could be called the gateway when traveling from the north to the western regions. It was a city along the highway passing through a deep forest.
The somewhat sophisticated western culture influenced the architecture and industry of Slay. There were no sturdy, flat pillars in Slay. At worst, they were decorated with low-reliefs, and those carvings were often soft floral patterns. It was a city that felt somehow flighty.
Wearing hoods attached to the collars of their long robes, the mages entered a back alley from the highway.
Small bolts of lightning occasionally sparked from the fingertips of the tall mage. From the mouth of the small mage, breath leaked that seemed to freeze the outside air. Soon, they arrived at a street where women and beggars lingered.
Even the charming streetwalkers felt something dangerous in the atmosphere radiated by the two mages and merely watched them pass.
Entering a certain shabby boarding house, the mages placed a single gold coin on the counter.
"Women?" The proprietor looked them over with a suspicious gaze.
"We will cause no trouble," the tall mage said.
The mages climbed the stairs.
They knew which room door to knock on. The small mage blew breath onto the door handle. As a precaution, he had cast a barrier. With this, even if there was a commotion inside the room, it would not reach the floor below.
"Are you ready?" Laje asked.
"I am, but there's something I'm afraid of," Alf Cedar answered. "What if the old man is naked and flirting with a girl? ...What I mean is, you know, life. The very last... I'm shy, so I might not be able to say it well, but the very last moment of a good memory with a woman—I think that's possible. To interfere with that, in my feeling, is a bit—"
"Just get in here!"
An old man's voice echoed from inside the room.
When Laje opened the door, a slender woman came flying toward them in a somersault.
She was likely a prostitute manipulated by the old man's magic. With the handstand, her loose clothing flipped up, and not just her private parts, but even her breasts were about to be exposed. As Alf froze, Laje stepped forward.
When Laje turned his palm toward her, the slender prostitute's movements stopped.
She fainted and fell to the side just as her kick was about to strike Laje's crown. Laje picked up the poor prostitute in a bridal carry and laid her on the bed.
Manam was slumped in the corner of the room.
"Old man."
Alf approached the old man and stood before the seated Manam.
"Old man, it's finally time. To be honest, I don't want to kill you. For example, if you, the old man, touched the breasts of the woman sleeping there—or didn't touch them—just as an example... did you touch them?"
"Alf, you—"
"I was surprised when I heard from Laje. Zarko-sensei, Sensei was..." Alf spoke with a tearful voice. "A virgin. To die without knowing the feel of a woman's breasts... death is empty, so empty, old man. I really don't want to kill you. If you enjoyed yourself with that young woman, I would be happy. Because you're going to die here. I have no choice but to kill you. Old man, you killed my master."
"Alf, listen—"
"He was magnificent! One-Eyed Zarko was a person who preferred the happiness of others! He listened to me in silence and taught me everything! He was the first person like that!"
"—Alf. This is the result of mages competing in their convictions."
"You used cowardly methods!"
"Absolutely not," Manam said. "I, for my part, thought I knew Zarko. It is Siddim. That was One-Eyed Zarko's conviction. Our convictions are different; our conviction is the world. Alf, you are nothing more than a byproduct born of Zarko's conviction. You are being used as Zarko's tool."
"Old man Manam," Alf said. "Laje and I are Sensei's disciples. Just as you were, we are comrades."
"Comrades of low ambition," Manam raised his face. "However, it is already too late. Kosa shall be victorious."
"We'll see about that."
"First, listen. Alf. I believe you heard from Persa about the dangers of science—"
Alf took a step forward and placed his palm on Manam's head. "I've got no interest in that, Manam. I will have my revenge. It's a lie that hatred is a bad emotion—goodbye."
The wrinkled black face relaxed.
The ink-colored pupils hid beneath the upper eyelids, and Manam lowered his lids. But then, at the moment of death, Manam opened his eyes.
"...It will not end, Alf."
Those were the final words. It was likely as the old man said. Mages do not die. Not as long as magic does not end.
Laje and Alf carried the old man's corpse down to the bottom of the stairs. They spent more gold coins to borrow the boarding house's cart. Outside the city, by the river, the mages burned the old man's body.
"I wonder if Ness has awakened with this."
"Who knows. There is still one person left," Laje answered Alf. "However, the enemy's magical power should have weakened significantly; I can feel it on my skin."
In the city of Maslow in eastern Ganlord, at that very moment, most of the curse that had clung to Ness de Syllabus's forehead for many years evaporated.
"Where is Laika? The Princess? Yugis?"
Ness was energetic immediately after awakening, causing trouble for those around him.
As if the extreme decline in mental activity had inverted into extreme mania, Ness mounted a horse and rushed to a village called Tobai. There he met Hume Razor, met with Laicanel, and was entrusted with a unit of cavalry. Though his departure was delayed due to confusion with preparations, the brave man of Siddim, Ness Syllabus, made it in time for the battle. Laje, Alf, and One-Eyed Zarko had all made it in time at the very end.
The reason Lucy Alish moved to the battlefield of Famana was to urge the troops on.
Though her guard Hume wore a troubled expression, Lucy's mind did not change.
On the battlefield, Lucy saw the tremendous breakthrough by the enemy's light cavalry. She saw the massive frame of the enemy general, Geraha Wolf.
One could say she had been put in check. Yet, Lucy did not feel defeated in the slightest.
The enemy excelled in the techniques of war. That was the difference between Kosa and Siddim. The enemy merely won through technique. That the world should be stained by the customs of such pitiful people was the world's misfortune. Siddim would win with civilization. Win with history. Win with accumulated philosophy. With politics, the essence of that, it would win over Kosa's shallow hegemony.
Lucy's fighting spirit was brimming. If they lost at Famana, they would win at Maslow. If they lost at Maslow, next would be Saranti. She would fight Kosa for the rest of her life.
—In winter.
The promise she had exchanged with the nun of Euryas, Carmilla Kaurov, was nowhere in Lucy's consciousness at this time. The battle continued. Lucy's kingdom would not end.
—This is my kingdom.
Lucy Alish had said that to the Great King of Kosa.
As an obvious fact, Siddim was His Majesty's possession and not Lucy's. Lucy had likened this situation to a kingdom. This heat, this battle dust, this vibrancy. This collision, this devotion and dedication, anger and joy, tears, roars, sweat, bloodshed.
All of them rotating in a single order while being chaotic. She was at the center of it.
This was what Lucy had built.
As if organically connected to her very body, Lucy felt their pain, their suffering, and their pride. Was it conceit? She was among the people at the fringes, and she was at the center of everything. Was it arrogant to call this "my country"?
She did not think so. Lucy was too unified with the situation.
This belonged to Lucy. And it did not belong to Lucy alone. She could not have endured it alone.
The one who first created this kingdom was Yugis.
—Our kingdom.
When she thought of it that way, Lucy felt a shortness of breath. The kingdom of herself and Yugis. A soaking suspension of time arrived. A moment of immoral sweetness arrived, as if the center of emotion deep in her chest were numbing, being heated, or perhaps connecting with the sensuality at the center of her body.
What was it that made her breathless, that excited her like a sweat? Was it romantic feeling? Lucy thought it was something more fundamental. Something like a sense of life. Life, every cell, the spiritual part, drove Lucy forward.
Live loudly; let the brain, the emotions, the flesh, and the organs fulfill their missions to the fullest. The sense of life flowing through her veins intoxicated Lucy. The existence of living lay within the soldiers' battle. In the gap between life and death, there was the original form of life—positive and optimistic, springing up and pulsating powerfully.
That was the kingdom of Lucy that she had constructed together with Yugis. Lucy's kingdom was a kingdom of exaltation.
Because that was too bloody and unsuitable for a nun, Lucy thought of it by excluding Yugis. Not "our," but "my" kingdom.
She had suppressed herself by thinking in that way.
"Princess!" Hume's booming voice rang out. "Please escape! Princess!"
She should do so, Lucy thought. She should retreat here.
Suddenly, a cool breeze blew past Lucy's side.
As if cracking and splitting the feast of life brought by fighting spirit and frenzy, Ness Syllabus's cavalry unit charged.
Time stopped. She did not think this was an exaggeration. In this moment, the world ceased to move. Was it a phenomenon where a moment feels abnormally long because one is too focused on the battle? Lucy rode her horse to a slightly higher place and looked over the entirety of the battlefield.
Even so, the world remained stopped. People did not move an inch. They were frozen. The world had not stopped. The world had ended.
Below her was the figure of Geraha Wolf, who had fallen from his horse after being struck by a spear in the abdomen.
My kingdom.
The kingdom of me and Yugis.
It felt as if the stage beneath her feet were collapsing. It would disappear, it would end. Everything she and Yugis had done.
The sense of unity that had felt as if it were biting into her very nerves was now gone. The battlefield felt far away. Rather, it seemed like an event unrelated to herself, like a distant matter concerning a stranger.
—What?
Lucy panicked. The battlefield was supposed to be Lucy's kingdom. It was supposed to be her everything. It was supposed to have been accompanied by a familiarity like life itself.
What was it? A distance, as if separated by a thin membrane, was there.
The spear that struck Geraha. Ness's head flying through the air.
They were the wreckage of something faded and skeletal. A gray landscape. While remaining devoid of color, the world began to move again. Making noisy, unpleasant sounds, it was going away.
The people were going away. Leaving Lucy behind, to a far-off place.
—The war has ended.
What spread before her eyes was the collapsed kingdom of Lucy.
While the whole world focused on Geraha, Lucy left the scene as if weaving through the gaps.
She was a single rider. Since leaving the Euryas Convent, this might have been the first time she was alone. Or perhaps, she felt she had never been alone since she was a princess. Lucy rode her white horse through the deserted fields.
She must be tired.
A headache was throbbing. It was likely because she hadn't slept much. It was a pain like sobering up from intoxication.
She wanted to see Yugis. She wanted to hear it from Yugis's mouth. That our kingdom was not an illusion. That it certainly existed. The battlefield we built by pouring everything into it, our posture. Why did that not reach completion with victory?
What was this sense of loss?
She wanted to see Yugis.
She wanted to see Yugis.
Her own knight. A comrade who had fought since the first time they met. Together with Yugis, for the first time since birth, Lucy lived. For the first time since birth, she was fulfilled. For the first time in her life, she felt a raw, pulsating response. Living was a joy.
Having felt this, how could she return to the path of faith?
Entering the Roma Church, which could be called a clean death, was a kind of suicide. Was that why being a nun was so magnificent? But, but however. For example, Sheri died facing the enemy. Everyone was like that. That was why Lucy had resonated. She had shed tears. How could she betray those tears?
The soldiers who fought and died in response to Lucy's call did not commit suicide.
They tried to live for the life of their comrades.
The impulse to throw away one's life for another is the ultimate form of human life.
Lucy's kingdom had realized such an ideal.
Only Yugis understood that fact, which no one else acknowledged, quite naturally. That was why Lucy needed Yugis here and now. Once the war ended, Lucy would no longer be needed. But Yugis—.
By the banks of the Balkov River, there was a windmill. It seemed to be a windmill for irrigation, to pump up water, rather than for milling.
Lucy felt a sense of thirst. Dismounting and pulling the reins, she drank the river water. The white horse also put its muzzle to the current, lapping the water. However, Lucy's horse suddenly neighed, tore the reins from Lucy's hand, and fled.
Princess Lucy was seized by a strange feeling. Now, she was truly all alone.
Separate from the receding white horse, her ears caught the thunder of approaching horseshoes.
Lucy searched for the source of the sound.
What the princess's eyes caught was not a horse. It was a monk who appeared from the windmill hut.
He walked leaning on a staff. "Her Highness Luchentin..."
The obese monk flipped back his hood.
"Your Eminence the Bishop—why?"
The figure of His Eminence Bishop Kofie of Siddim was there.
"Great King! Prepare yourself!"
The elderly Southern doctor shouted.
The doctor pulled the spear, whose tip had been cut off, out of Geraha's body in one go.
Pain shot through him, but not enough to make him cry out.
"It was fortunate that it passed through! You will surely make a full recovery!"
The old doctor shouted every single word.
Even with five brave men, they could not lift Geraha. With about ten people, Geraha was laid on the bed of a horse-drawn wagon. Geraha's legs and hips would not support him.
"Move back, move back!"
Someone was screaming.
"Tie the Great King's person to the bed and do not move him. He will bleed. Hurry, hurry!"
"Slow the horses! Do not shake it!"
"Hold back the enemy. Never let them approach!"
—There are all sorts of people, aren't there.
In the vision of Geraha, who was lying on his back, there were various faces against the backdrop of the blue sky. Every face was angry. The old doctor had climbed onto the wagon bed along with Geraha. Before he knew it, Geraha's leather armor had been stripped away. The doctor was putting his fingers into the wound, likely to stop the bleeding.
He thought the man was called Abure.
'I once examined Tenge-sama when he was still young.'
That was supposed to be his selling point. His cropped hair, long eyebrows, mustache, and beard were each white. Those white hairs seemed to partition his long, brown face at equal intervals.
"Great King, keep your consciousness!"
Geraha nodded.
He felt he wanted them to be a little quieter, but the soldiers seemed to be working desperately, so he refrained from requesting it. They were worrying about Geraha.
There was pain. Not to an unbearable degree. However, he wasn't confident he could endure the fear that this pain would double. On the other hand, the dull part of Geraha's mind was drawn to the beauty of the world, which had suddenly increased in brilliance.
What of the refreshing appearance of those blue clouds?
He had seen the same thing once. His older brother was there. Astai-ni was there. Sinkuk too. Kohal didn't seem to be there. When was it—.
"You probably haven't been remembering things about your hometown!" the old doctor Abure said. "I will not permit reminiscence! Concentrate!"
"Let me die," Geraha said in a low voice, audible only to the doctor.
"I refuse. It will be safe soon. I will perform the surgery there!"
Doctor Abure spoke with an arrogance befitting a Great King.
If one were to ask if the Siddim army invaded as if they had found the perfect opportunity, it did not go that way. The Siddim army was tossed about by conflicting information.
"We've been bypassed!"
This was the shock. There was no room for informational confusion regarding the central breakthrough. Looking at it, it was obvious to anyone's eyes. The enemy had circled behind them. The reason the front line did not collapse was that the army flags at the command post were fluttering twice as much as usual. Everyone understood that the Commander-in-Chief was present.
Furthermore, the enemy did not try to expand their achievement. They stopped their movement just after the breakthrough. The Siddim side might have been fighting well to block the breakthrough. The fluttering army flags showed no sign of retreating.
The story that the enemy general had fallen spread rapidly.
For a time, among the infantry of the Siddim army, it circulated in reverse as—
—The Princess has been lost.
The confusion of the soldiers was understandable; the headquarters had not fully grasped the situation.
The command post had been struck. General Haider Skyner had jumped out of the tent with his sword half-drawn.
Zeal Androsh's reconnaissance squad had approached the enemy who had broken through, stopped their horses, and were firing bows and arrows. The enemy did not retaliate against that attack. They retreated.
Aram Danforth was mounted, taking command at the front to attempt to reorganize the center.
Though Yugis's figure was not visible, a flag that seemed to belong to Gallan's unit was spotted in a quite distant place. The right wing had achieved a breakthrough, circled behind the enemy center, and was routing the enemy's longitudinal formation.
Looking at it calmly, the enemy as a whole was retreating.
"Captain of the Guard Hume!"
Hume Razor was placing a cloak over the remains of Ness Syllabus. Haider rushed over.
"Eastern General..." Hume's face was stained with blood.
"The enemy general?"
"Injury is certain. It appears he was carried away by enemy soldiers."
"What of the Commander-in-Chief?"
Hume looked up from Ness's severed head and looked at Haider.
Perhaps he had been caught in deep thought; light returned to Hume's dark eyes. "This is bad!"
When he started saying that, Haider also panicked.
Hume had confirmed that Princess Lucy had set out on her horse toward the north.
"For now, she has escaped, then," Haider felt relieved. He was almost about to collapse to his knees.
"General, could you lend me that energetic fellow over there?"
He meant Zeal. Zeal's reconnaissance squad was fast.
"Take him. I beg of you."
"I will ensure the Commander-in-Chief's safety even at the cost of my life!"
Hume Razor started running.
Zeal had come to report the status of the Twin Forts to headquarters while taking a wide detour.
Haider personally moved Ness's body to a place where it would not be in the way.
"General," Aram approached. "What should we do?"
"Recover the lost ground. Aim to advance to the south of Caterpillar Marsh within today. Make it known that the enemy general Geraha Wolf has fallen."
"Understood."
By Haider's order, the Siddim army finally began to function.
The enemy was in a panic. Now, it was clearly a state of rout. It seemed the form of a retreat battle had not even been established.
The gallery archers of Famana also witnessed the retreat of the enemy encircling army with their own eyes.
At this time, Laicanel Thora had set out with the royal army's cavalry. It almost seemed as if the enemy were terrified by General Laicanel's prestige.
"I had heard he was strong, strong, but..."
Shatona stared at the general's military boots. The blue-dyed leather was well-used and shone black in places, which was cool. It was probably the work of a craftsman from Malfa.
"As expected of the young master of the Thora family. He is a great leader."
"Shatona!" Jado shouted. "It's just as you say! Look, they're running away!"
"They've left the siege engines and stone projectiles behind," Rolan was stunned. "I wonder why they're fleeing."
"Does it not just mean that the Western Thora family is a cut above the rest?"
Captain Basil spoke not so much to answer Rolan, but toward the eastern archers next to him.
The five members of Basil's squad grinned and looked at their neighbors. The eastern archers were looking toward the west.
The members of the platoon also turned their eyes to the western battlefield.
"What is..." Aubrey said.
Black dots, countless dots were moving. The dots were likely enemy soldiers. That was fine. The problem was the movement. They had lost order. It was as if grains of sand were rolling individually. It looked like the disorder of a sudden outbreak of rats or grasshoppers. The Kosa army was in full retreat. Once that realization spread, the surroundings erupted in cheers almost simultaneously.
—Siddim won!
When it came to this, there was no West or East. The people of the gallery mixed and embraced each other.
I can go home, Shatona thought. It's like a dream.
Even though it was like a dream, for some reason, Shatona felt as if he had awakened from a dream. Suddenly, he felt those boring days spent at the shoe workshop in Borsa city clinging to him. Along with a sudden wave of fatigue, reality began. That weight seemed to plant his floating feet back on the ground. He felt sorry for the comrades who had died. But Shatona was happy to be alive. That realization was so nostalgic and happy that it brought tears to Shatona's eyes.
"Buy me about half an hour's time!" the old doctor Abure shouted.
Geraha was made to take strong liquor into his mouth.
He was already drenched in sweat, but the liquor was harsh, and he felt he sweated even more. Doctor Abure, his fingertips covered in blood, manipulated needle and thread.
Since the surgery was boring, Geraha imposed on himself not to cry out from the intense pain and tried to enjoy that challenge. It was impossible. Geraha groaned. It hurt enough to make his body jump. Soldiers who were like lumps of muscle held Geraha down.
Since he had done that much, he should have made a better face, but the old doctor wiped the sweat from his forehead, closed his eyes, and shook his head.
"Bring fire. I will stop the bleeding with a burn."
On top of that, it seemed he was going to do something more. Geraha would have laughed if he had the leeway. The old doctor pressed red-hot iron against Geraha's wound. The brave men holding Geraha's body were blown away. Geraha had shaken them off.
—Pathetic.
He thought it was pathetic to make such a fuss over this level of pain. That said, it hurt, so it couldn't be helped. Amidst the smell of burning flesh, Doctor Abure shook his head again. He seemed to be an honest type.
The treatment must have ended.
Kirikiri and Hazab arrived.
"Great King..." King Kirikiri of Mamukuri was crying.
Geraha was surprised that this old man cried too.
"Kirikiri-don, I entrust Quimel to you and the King of Tawaru. Please raise him."
Quimel was the nephew Geraha considered as his successor.
"I have received your command. I have received it, Great King!"
"Hazab, tell Huchi to value their lives. Let us return to the grasslands."
"Great King!" Hazab was also crying with a crumpled face.
Thinking it was interesting, Geraha felt his consciousness fading.
The prisoner Hilboro and the painter Matinee, who had spent a night being dragged around by pack horses, had been unable to drink water for almost a whole day. While they were at a loss, their stomachs growling, the sun began to set.
"If we die in a place like this, we'll be a laughingstock," Matinee said, and Excellency Hilboro snorted.
"You're still fine. I am the shame of my clan."
"Even while we are like this, many soldiers are dying. If I had pressed the Highness back then, the war might have been stopped."
"I've explained it many times. If we had tried to persuade the general from the start, we would have lost the trust of both sides. The opportunity for negotiation will come again. The Highness can mobilize as many young people as he wants. This war won't end without peace negotiations."
"That may be true, but..." Matinee sighed.
"If you feel inferior to those who died, stop it," Excellency Hilboro said. "That kind of thing lingers unexpectedly."
Suddenly noticing an old man standing right next to the cage, Matinee jumped up on his buttocks in surprise. He was so startled he couldn't even make a sound. He was a shabby, grimy old man who could be called a walking mummy without any hesitation.
"Master Nezumo!"
Though the scale-like wrinkles were stretched out by sagging skin, there was no mistake.
Master Nezumo was touching the cage with hollow eyes that saw nothing.
"What on earth happened? Where is Master Manam?"
"The star has gone cold."
"What?"
—The star has disappeared.
That is what he seemed to want to say. Matinee stared at the old mage's face. Then, the thunder of hooves approached. Looking, a vast number of cavalry were coming from the north. It was a large group of Kosa cavalry. There was an unusual, strange atmosphere. In that large group, there were riderless horses, as well as sheep and sheepdogs. Avoiding Matinee's wagon, the cavalry and livestock rushed past like a torrent.
After one group ran south, another small group arrived sparsely.
"What in the world is this?"
"I don't know," Matinee looked around. "Master Nezumo?"
When he noticed, the figure of the wise elder was gone. He wondered if he had been knocked over by a horse, but he was nowhere to be seen. He had vanished like the wind. Furthermore, to his confusion, he noticed that the cage door at the rear of the wagon was open.
Had Master Nezumo used magic? Following Excellency Hilboro, Matinee also climbed down from the wagon. While Matinee was unhitching the pack horse from the wagon, Excellency Hilboro came to Matinee's side on horseback.
A horse with a saddle had apparently strayed, as if tailor-made for the occasion. The horse was raging, but being a knight, the Excellency controlled it skillfully.
"Excellency, where to?" Matinee looked at Excellency Hilboro, who looked divine bathed in the setting sun, with a dazzled feeling.
"The Twin Forts. You come too!"
"Eh?"
"There is something I can do!"
Pulled by the hand of Excellency Hilboro, Matinee mounted the horse.
He was already in a mood of desperation.
Geraha was seeing the illusions of his own life, which people are said to see just before death.
The first thing he saw was the figure of a child running through the grasslands. A toddler who had just learned to stand was running desperately through the grasslands with short legs. Though falling occasionally, he stood up energetically and aimed solely forward. The toddler's face was unbelievably unsightly.
—Do your best, do your best.
Feeling a kinship with the toddler's ugliness, Geraha cheered. However, looking closely, that unsightly child looked exactly like Geraha. It was nothing else but himself in childhood.
Rather than looking back at the scene he had seen, Geraha was watching himself as if he were another person.
Going back in time, this time baby Geraha was crying. This too had a dirty face that could be identified as Geraha at a glance.
"Oh, little one."
A plump woman picked up Geraha heavily and laid him on her lap.
The woman loosened the string around her chest, let her nipple peek through the gap in her clothes, and let Geraha suckle.
Then, Geraha's aunt, Mol, arrived.
"I'm always sorry," Aunt Mol said, and
"It's fine, we're even," the plump woman answered.
"Tenge says this child will become the Great King. Even though he has such a strange face."
The two women laughed, ha-ha-ha.
"But it's better to tell such big lies. He's a boy."
"Dreams have to be big."
Ha-ha-ha. The women laughed looking upward. Meanwhile, the plump woman, occasionally letting a painful shadow cross her brow, gently stroked Geraha's head.
The scene changed again.
Geraha had some vague memory of this scenery.
Geraha was about ten years old. Kohal was there.
"You, is there a woman you like? Oh? How is it?"
Kohal was pestering Geraha like a thug.
"What, can't you even answer? Ha-ha, I see, you're that, aren't you. The one you like is perhaps me?"
"I, I hate you. As if I could like someone like Kohal."
No, no, the Geraha watching the illusion thought.
The ten-year-old Geraha was blushing as if breathing fire. It was clearly the truth. On the contrary, the Kohal who had teased him was the one looking embarrassed.
"It's written on your face, Geraha. Say it, that you like me, oh, Geraha."
"I hate you."
Geraha ran away. Poorly, Kohal was left behind.
Geraha also watched memories such as the day he first rode a horse and the day of his first battle from a third-party perspective. There were many surprises in the scenery from when he was a baby. Young Astai and the girl Hishaku were babysitting Geraha, and Sinkuk was amusing Geraha with a comical face.
Geraha felt a sense of incongruity. Not necessarily, not necessarily had he been treated unfairly. In Geraha's memory, he had been treated unfairly, as a filthy creature like a poisonous insect.
The scene changed, and this time his older brother appeared. Geraha was a baby again.
"Geraha..."
His older brother was different from others, starting with the way he called him. Just by whispering Geraha's name, a thick affection could be heard lingering in the resonance.
"You will become the Great King."
Geraha suddenly realized. Was it this?
Geraha had been an ugly and clumsy child. However, it seemed he hadn't been treated that coldly. He was bullied and teased, but there were many good things. Everyone tried to be fair, and hadn't Geraha done well energetically?
What was the sense of inadequacy, the sense of deficiency that had clung to Geraha? The feeling of disappointment and hatred he directed at himself, the belief that he was a failure, a monster.
Could these not be summarized in the single point of "myself who has not become the Great King"?
If so, was it his brother who had made him suffer unfairly?
He cannot believe such a thing, Geraha thought. Even if that were the case, Geraha did not hate his brother. He did not resent him. He could not curse him. Look at Tenge-ni's face while amusing Geraha. With an unusual concentration and patience, his brother devoted himself to Geraha, who was so fussy, screaming, and troubling those around him that one might wonder if there was malice.
Whenever there was a chance, Tenge wanted to touch the infant Geraha. He wanted to stroke his head, shoulders, and back. After caressing him thoroughly and letting go, as if becoming lonely at that moment, he would try to touch him again immediately.
Geraha was happy with that ticklishness. He was happy to be cared for. Hugging Geraha, his brother whispered, "You will become the Great King, Geraha."
Why? Why did he say such a thing?
The current Geraha felt he could understand even the reason.
It was absolutely not the fate of the stars. The idea of becoming the Great King had been within his brother from the start. More so, it had been among the Kosa people since before Tenge-ni was born. Supporting trade between east and west, creating distribution and ruling. It was where the Kosa people, living in the geographical conditions of the Kandasyata Plateau, would conclude.
After Great King Aframa had consumed it all, it was a national emotion that had gradually accumulated among the people of Kandasyata. That accumulated like nutrients and bloomed in Tenge-ni's mind. His brother must have wanted to be the Great King. Yet his brother unsparingly plucked that flower and gave it to Geraha. Why?
—To become the Great King.
Because that thought was the highest thing Tenge-ni could possess. Because it was the most exciting, best idea. His brother had given Geraha his dream. Did he think he had nothing else to give? He treated Geraha like a comrade with whom he shared a dream and loved him. His brother must have been the one who was truly lonely. Geraha had depended on his brother forever, hiding behind his back. In the end, he remained unaware of what he should do until his brother died.
The path of hardship, the completion of the blood-stained path of hegemony, is now close. He can finally reward the soldiers who suffered.
Soon.
—You will become the Great King, Geraha.
"I will become the Great King!" I will become the Great King. I will repay my brother.
Whether he actually spoke it aloud or shouted it in his head.
In the vision of him lying on his back, there was the face of a black old man. One of the three wise elders, Nezumo, was there. He had his hand on Geraha's head.
—The star has gone cold.
The old man said something like that in a slurred tone. The star you believed in is wrong, Geraha wanted to say. Old man Nezumo left the place with an unreliable gait and went away. If there had been the power of stars, Geraha must have won against it.
The Twin Forts were in his vision. Before he knew it, he had been carried to such a place.
Turning his gaze to the left, the enemy army's flagpole had been erected at the West Fort of the Twin Forts.
Turning to the right, the same flag was fluttering at the East Fort.
The Twin Forts seemed to have been seized by the enemy army. Around Geraha were several faces. They were Kosa soldiers. All of them seemed to have their eyes stolen by something far away, without looking at Geraha.
"Stop it!" a voice came from a distant place. "Stop, stop!"
It was a familiar voice. Geraha desperately twisted his neck.
General Hilboro and the painter Matinee were riding a horse together and shouting.
Hilboro said something in a foreign language. Then Matinee translated it and appealed to the surroundings.
"The war is over!" it was Matinee's voice. "The war is over!"
Hilboro and Matinee must have pitied the lives lost in useless combat. Inside the Twin Forts, enemy soldiers had already invaded, though it was unclear how they entered. They were loosening the hands that drew their bows.
"Withdraw..." Geraha ordered.
With this, the Kosa side would also stop fighting. If Geraha's voice reached them, however.
The people around Geraha were now looking down at him. Among them was Hazab's black face.
"Hazab, I want to die in my homeland. I have not buried my brother. My brother's soul is wandering the grasslands. I want to take my brother's soul to the Eagle's Peak."
"Understood!"
Hazab said. Kosa people given a purpose are terrifying. When Geraha finally awakened, there was the scenery of the grasslands. He seemed to have somehow escaped from the cursed north. Geraha looked at the sky. He felt the wind. He thought Kosa would not end. He heard that the etymology of Kosa means grasslands.
The one he regretted was Kohal. In the end, he couldn't do a single decent thing for her. At least he prayed. Please stay alive. Grasslands, welcome her gently.
"Geraha..."
He felt he heard a voice from somewhere. What kind of face was Geraha making? A bright red sunrise was staining the sky. Geraha breathed in the good air to the full of his chest. That was the final breath. He thinks Kosa will not end. After considering various things, that was Geraha's conclusion. Nahal Bas and Hazab understood that well. Therefore, Geraha peacefully closed his eyes. He felt the roaring wind in his ears.
Two days later, from the road of the 'Dark Forest', a great army overflowed into the plains.
They were mounted. They were northern cavalry that seemed to fill the earth. The Siddim army cavalry besieged a city-state called Pardil. The plains nations had never permitted such lawlessness, even to the Kosa people.
The cavalry of Siddim solemnly proceeded with the appropriate preparations for the siege and sent out dozens of reconnaissance squads toward the east. They acted as if they owned the place. It was as if the army flags of Siddim would cover the ends of the earth.
The Kingdom of Pardil understood the meaning of this pressure.
Eventually, the gates opened. Soldiers wearing foreign armor appeared and carried a man covered in a white cloth, lying on something like a door panel. After placing the panel in a place slightly away from the city walls, the foreign soldiers fled back into the city gates.
Five Siddim cavalry armored in plate immediately rushed over.
The cavalry dismounted around the panel, and one soldier raised his hand.
A great cheer erupted from the Siddim army.
"He's alive."
Yugis Necrat, who commanded the mopping-up operation, spoke to a youth next to him named Jess Totan. Jess Totan was a youth from Villen who had carried out the rear disruption of the Kosa army in place of Udoh Renne.
"Staff Officer!"
Jess shouted with a face that looked like he might cry. Yugis nodded.
Jess manipulated the reins and set the horse in motion. The cavalry of the Villen unit followed. It was to welcome the liberated Udoh Renne.
"It's finally over, somehow."
Cloden Danforth brought his horse to where Jess had been. The improvement in Cloden's horse handling was one of the things that surprised Yugis.
"It's over."
Yugis looked at Cloden. Cloden had a refreshed face.
Beyond Cloden was Rusary Striga, who had been the fiancée of his older brother, Drak.
"Young Master, I offer my congratulations," the female knight Rusary said.
"It is thanks to your loyalty," Yugis responded with a cliché, but he also thought that formalities had no meaning at this point. "Rusary, you have done well for the disappointing Necrat family—"
"No. Not at all." Rusary looked down. "Young Master, actually, Dash came just a moment ago and reported to me. Um, excuse me, but please lend me your ear."
Cloden slowed his horse. Yugis moved his horse sideways toward Rusary.
—It appears Princess Lucy is missing.
The female knight whispered into Yugis's ear.
"I see."
Yugis nodded.
Udoh Renne, walking with the support of soldiers' shoulders, was responding with a wave of his hand to the cheers of the Siddim army.
Yugis looked back and ordered the withdrawal.
Siddim won. He still had no real feeling of it, and felt no joy. Only the fact that they had won weighed heavily on Yugis's exhausted body.