Chapter 220 : Meryl, the Second Daughter of Praha (13)
News that the Demonkin army was on the move sent the North into a state of emergency.
They had slaughtered the creatures to the last, or so they had believed. Now, as if seized by a sudden madness, the Demonkin were charging south with their entire force.
If they wanted revenge on the Empire, they should have marched on the Imperial Capital. Why in the world were they coming here?
“Damn it all! We must gather troops immediately!”
“And where are we to find them?”
“The northern houses! The common folk! For too long, the Ducal House has borne this burden alone. The situation has changed! We are short on soldiers, short on knights… short on everything!”
Within the halls of House Praha, the Elder Council was in an uproar. The topic at hand was the procurement of troops: how to replenish the forces they had lost in the ceaseless battles.
Under normal circumstances, they would have appealed to the Imperial Throne, pleading for knights and soldiers to be sent against the encroaching Demonkin.
But that was no longer an option.
“Why did those Artezia scum have to start a rebellion now of all times!”
The rebellion of House Artezia.
With the duke in open revolt, the Imperial Family could not spare a single soldier for the North. They were fighting for their own survival; how could they be expected to save anyone else?
Reports claimed the duke’s forces were formidable. It was safe to assume no aid would arrive until the Demonkin were dealt with… one way or another.
“Hah… This is no time for infighting. We must make a decision.”
“Damn it… It hasn’t even been a season since the Regent passed, and now this.”
The oldest member of the council let out a heavy sigh.
If only Lin Praha, the former regent, still lived.
With her on the field, they could have established a proper defensive line. Was she not a Master on the cusp of becoming a Grand Master? Dozens of the men in this very room could have attacked her at once and would have been cut down without a second thought.
But she was in her grave, and worse, the true pillar of the North, Duke Praha himself, had fallen into a deep despair.
“…Hah. Perhaps this is how House Praha meets its end,” one of the elders sighed.
Another elder looked at him, his expression one of disbelief. “The other ladies of Praha are still with us, are they not? If we rally the North behind them, we have a fighting chance.”
“…A fighting chance?”
One of the elders sneered and scoffed.
“Does anyone here not know the limits of Lady Roxha’s abilities? Or should we call upon Lady Meryl, who is little more than the Duke’s lapdog? Tell me, where is this rallying point you speak of?”
“…There is still one more.”
“Ah, you mean Lady Lea. Hmph. You must be new to the council.”
“…What do you mean by that?” the younger elder asked.
The elder who had spoken let out a derisive laugh. “She cannot be trusted.”
“…Pardon?”
“I said, she cannot be trusted. Lady Lea has already manifested her demonic form.”
It was the truth no one dared to speak aloud.
The words spilled from the old elder’s lips.
During the conflict between the council and Louis Berg, Lea had revealed signs of her transformation before the entire assembly. Even those who hadn’t been present had heard the stories from the survivors. The rumor had since festered, poisoning any trust in her.
Thus, while Lea Praha possessed the power of a Grand Master, she was now a weapon they dared not wield against the very creatures she resembled.
“Lady Lea must be sent to the most dangerous part of the battlefield,” the old elder declared. “If she turns traitor, and we must assume she will, she must be placed where she can do the least harm to our own.”
“What nonsense is this…!”
To brand the Duke’s own daughter a traitor?
The accusation, once unthinkable, now hung heavy in the air.
But the old elder did not retract his words. He merely spoke in a lamenting tone.
“…If only that man were here.”
Once their political rival, then their savior. The man who was the current High Elder.
Louis Berg.
If he were here, the number of troops would be irrelevant. His Special Taskforce alone could have held the line.
“When he was here, he was a thorn in our side. Now that he’s gone… the silence is deafening,” the old elder muttered with a deep sigh.
Just then.
Thump.
“My apologies. I didn’t realize I was interrupting such a productive meeting.”
The door to the private chamber swung open, and a woman strode in.
She was bundled in a heavy coat against the northern chill. It was a practical choice of wear, yet one that felt strangely out of place among men whose internal fire rendered such garments unnecessary.
Screech.
The woman pulled out a chair and sat at the head of the table.
“So. Have you all finished your whining?”
Roxha Praha, her features as sharp and predatory as a lynx’s, surveyed the room.
As the new Acting Duchess, the authority was hers. This was the master of the North’s greatest merchant guild, a survivor of countless political wars.
A cold sneer spread across her face. “And for the record, if I hear one more word about running, I’ll have every last one of you hanged from the castle walls.”
* * *
Meanwhile, far to the south.
“…They’re coming again.”
I murmured to myself, watching the endless tide of the duke’s army cresting the horizon.
It had only been a few days since the first battle, but their main force had arrived. Their numbers were several times larger than the vanguard’s, and the Auras scattered among them were potent enough to send a chill down my spine, even as a Grand Master.
“Will we not employ the hammer and anvil again, My Lord?” a high-ranking Imperial knight asked, approaching me cautiously. His expression already held the conviction that I would lead them to victory.
It seems that first victory was quite sweet.
It wasn’t just this knight. All around me, the soldiers of the Imperial Army watched my task force with shining eyes. He will find a way, their expressions seemed to say.
But I hadn’t come here to be their babysitter.
“What is your name, Sir Knight?”
“Ah, it’s Plot, My Lord Marquis!”
“I’m not a marquis just yet.”
I pulled a cigarette from my coat, lit it, and took a long drag. A plume of smoke billowed out, easing the tension in my body.
“Tell me, Sir Plot. In this situation, how would you advise we proceed?”
“Pardon? Ah, well…” The knight stammered, hesitating.
I hadn’t expected an answer.
“The hammer and anvil worked against the vanguard because their numbers were manageable,” I said.
“…Yes.”
“But the situation has changed. The enemy now outnumbers us several times over. To divide our forces now would be to invite them to destroy us piece by piece.”
“Of course,” I added, “if you plan to betray His Highness the Crown Prince and serve the duke, it’s a fine strategy indeed.”
“N-no, of course not!”
Plot waved his hands, horror on his face. He glanced around, worried someone might have overheard.
A faint smile touched my lips. I took another drag from my cigarette.
“Hah… Then let me ask again. The enemy vastly outnumbers us. We have a single fortress at our backs. What is our most effective strategy?”
“…”
“You’re just like Lancelot.”
I gave Plot the highest compliment I could think of and then offered him the answer.
“The answer is simple. A defensive siege.”
“…A defensive siege?” Plot stared at me as if I had spoken in a foreign tongue.
I paid him no mind. “Precisely. Our objective is to defend the capital, is it not? Raiding the enemy’s main camp is a job for a dedicated strike team, not a besieged army.”
“…We have a strike team?”
“Of course not. I imagine whoever survives today will become one.”
Plot stared at me as if I were a madman. Pleased with his expression, I allowed the corners of my mouth to curl into a faint smile.
“In any case, the operation is already underway. The Special Taskforce will be responsible for plugging any breaches in the walls. You need only worry about holding the line.”
I flicked the cigarette butt away and rose to my feet. I gripped the bow slung over my back and aimed it toward the enemy lines.
The bowstring groaned, taut with tension, a sharp, clear sound in the charged air.
As I listened to it, I said, “For the record, we have two Grand Masters who specialize in the bow on our side.”
<Lightning Bolt>
A tremendous roar echoed as a bolt of lightning shot into the heart of the enemy formation. Their ranks erupted into chaos, their alien cries swallowed by the thunder.
I nocked another arrow on the bowstring and continued.
“And one of them… is me.”
<Flash>
A massive explosion annihilated a portion of their ranks, kicking up a towering cloud of dust. Staring into it, I nocked yet another arrow.
“By the way, archers excel in a defensive siege.”
<Full Bloom> <Divine Beast Invocation>
A storm of ethereal flower petals and spectral beasts descended, tearing through the duke’s army.
“Damn it all!”
“Advaaaaance! Forward!”
Amidst the screams of the dying and the roars of commanders, I shot a sneer toward the distant figures in the duke’s army who were glaring back at me.
“Come then, Artezia slaves.”
Today, I lay the cornerstone of my revenge.
My assault was only the prelude. As my last arrow flew, my master’s began.
And so, the second battle between the Imperial Army and the rebel forces commenced.