The Meeting (1)
"My lady."
The silver-haired woman turned her head. A man who looked to be a knight held a coat out toward her.
"The day's grown bitterly cold."
"I'm all right. You should wear it, Commander."
"This much cold is nothing to me."
"Then offer it to the other knights. I'm fine."
She meant for him to look after the men outside rather than herself, seated within the carriage. The man nodded, as if he had no other choice. However much he might have wished to press the matter, her intent was too clear to argue with.
The door shut, and the carriage rolled forward once more. Beyond the north, where midwinter's cutting winds came howling, lay a place more brutal than any other on earth — and that was where they were bound.
The woman stared blankly out the window.
A place she had believed she would never return to. A place she had never wanted to return to. And yet she was going back there all the same.
She bit down on her lip. She had no name for the thing that raged in her chest. Was it anger? Resentment? Or was it fear? She could not tell, and the not-knowing left her only more lost.
"...You shouldn't have summoned me."
I hate you. I hate you so much. All of you.
My father. My brother. Every last one of the retainers. Why did you have to leave first and lay a burden this heavy on my shoulders?
Don't worry, they had told her. Live well. We'll protect this place, and our duty, ourselves. She remembered them sending her away, pretending it was nothing at all. In her last memory of them, they had been smiling. She alone had been unable to smile — and in the end, she had never gotten to show them hers.
The tears she had barely held back spilled over. She had wanted to seize them and demand why they had to go so soon. But they had already departed for a distant place she would never see again. In her memory they were still smiling, bright as ever. Holding their faces in her mind, the woman wept without a sound.
"Hah."
Having stepped back from the carriage, Brender caught his breath. His first mission since assuming command had been to bring home the family's sole remaining direct descendant. And attached to that mission had been a peculiar set of instructions — do not be startled, and do not look at her for too long. He hadn't understood why such an order had been given.
Then, today, he had seen the face of the woman he now served. And Brender understood.
How can anyone be so beautiful?
If light itself had been shaped into a person, would they gleam like that? Was that truly a beauty a human being could possess? No word he knew could fully describe her. Hair as though moonlight had been gathered and spun. Ruby-red eyes that seemed ready to pull you under after only a few seconds of looking. Today, Brender understood why people lost themselves to beauty.
...Get a hold of yourself.
He slapped his own cheek and steadied his breathing. They were only halfway there. A long road still lay ahead. The closer they drew to the main house, the more treacherous the journey would become. They could be ambushed at any time, from anywhere.
"Commander."
The scouts he had sent ahead had returned. He had hoped for nothing unusual, but their expressions were grim.
"They're nearby?"
"Yes."
Brender bit his lip.
"How many?"
"Nine confirmed. And the number keeps growing."
He looked around. There was little to fear on that score — they had no shortage of knights. The problem was the civilian caravan on the road nearby. If they avoided combat and focused solely on protecting their charge, the beasts would turn on the civilians. But if they fought in earnest, they would be directly contradicting their escort mission.
"Shouldn't we inform her?"
"We should. I'll speak with her. The rest of you—"
A piercing scream tore through the air from behind them.
"...No need to go to her, I suppose."
"Seems she's already aware."
Clicking his tongue, Brender hurried the knights into combat readiness. In less than a minute they had formed ranks. A few peeled off toward the civilians, but not many. Their mission was escort, after all — not reconnaissance and extermination. That much was only natural. Surround the carriage and concentrate on getting out of here. That was, at present, the knights' central objective.
"Ah — my lady!"
But why was their charge standing outside the carriage? Brender and the knights made no effort to hide their dismay.
"My lady. Please get back inside. It's dangerous."
"Those are them, aren't they?"
"It would appear so."
"Then I should step in."
"But—"
At the word duty, Brender and every knight fell silent. It was that very duty that had cost them their former lord and the lord who should have followed him. Even so, they knew well they could not abandon it.
"Give me my sword."
In the end, Brender offered her the blade with due respect. The moment she took it, she traced a fluid, elegant arc — and the dark shape charging toward them split cleanly in two. Not a wasted motion in the entire sequence.
"...A Pintz. Fifth-grade demonic beast."
She had identified it at a glance, before the knights had even finished examining the corpse. Before Brender could so much as marvel, their charge — their new lord — turned her head toward the screams.
"They're weak. But they know how to survive."
"So they'll go after the relatively weaker targets. The civilians..."
"You formed ranks to protect me. If I move, you'll move with me."
"Do you mean to go, my lady?"
She nodded.
"I do. The more people we save, the more who'll fight alongside us."
For a moment something in Brender's chest rang like a struck bell. And he thought of his former lord, whom he would never see again — a man who, despite being the head of a great house, had always stood at the vanguard. Who had lived and suffered and laughed alongside his people. Who had swung his sword to the very end, cutting down demonic beasts, crying that they had to save even one more life.
"Thank you. Shall we go, then?"
Watching Sien take the lead — watching his new lord — Brender decided to forget the tear tracks on her face.
"First Squad, cut left immediately and seal off their retreat. The rest of you, with me."
"Yes, my lady!"
Sien had been away from the family for a very long time, and she had spent those years far from any battlefield. The knights' first impression had been inevitable: Lichtenauer blood or not, swordsmanship or not, her command was bound to have gaps.
"Remember — a Pintz is a cunning creature. Do not give it an opening."
She made their worries look foolish. Her command was airtight, her temperament unhesitating, her sword fierce. It was as if she were proving, by her own hand, that she was a true Lichtenauer.
"Gather the civilians in the center. They must not scatter."
"Yes, my lady!"
A portion of the knights were detached as a strike team to cut off the beasts' retreat and intercept them. The rest pushed outward from within, driving the creatures back while holding the formation firm. Easy enough to say. Far harder to do. A battlefield was like nature itself — restless, shifting, never the same twice. No amount of reading could prepare you for the real thing. And yet Sien was doing it as naturally as water finding its course. Her orders came without pause, and confidence ran through every word.
"Commander! Incoming!"
"Hit them as hard as you can on the first clash! Just as we've always done!"
These were warriors who had spent long years fighting demonic beasts. They were not about to lose to a mere fifth-grade. And just as expected, after a single collision, the beasts that had been closing on the civilians lay scattered as corpses.
"Five down!"
"Confirmed! Status report!"
"There are still more of them!"
"Where?"
"Left flank! At least two approaching from the left!"
At the word left, Brender spun at once. Of all places, Sien's position was closest to that flank — and with the weather as poor as it was, tension seized him whether he wanted it or not. He gripped his sword tight and held himself ready. A presence flickered — and then a dark shape burst into view before him.
One, at least.
He thought it, and drove his blade forward.
A sharp tap —
"What?!"
The beast used his sword as a foothold and leapt again. He had never expected it. He had never even seen it. In that instant, Brender lost the creature. And the greater problem was that Sien was already engaged with another.
"Lady Sien!"
At Brender's shout she turned. The beast's maw was already upon her, close enough to touch. An ordinary person would have panicked, or frozen in terror. Sien simply slipped her body out of the way, calm as still water.
"Ah—!"
The sight wrung an involuntary gasp of admiration from Brender. A true Lichtenauer, indeed — that clean, unadorned movement. He very nearly stood there staring, forgetting the fight entirely.
"Forgive me, my lady. If you mean to hold me accountable, I will accept it without complaint."
Another knight rushed in and finished the beast. Only then did Brender, who had failed to guard her back, ask for punishment. Sien shook her head. It had been beyond anyone's control — something even veteran knights had not anticipated. More than that, it was not a movement a fifth-grade demonic beast should have been capable of.
Not a Pintz? But it has to be.
The mind that had been performing so well until now tangled itself in knots. Certainty slipped, and doubt crept in to take its place.
No.
She forced the doubt aside. In a situation like this, a wavering heart was a sure way to bleed.
"Commander! Incoming from the right!"
"Distance?"
"Can't tell — the fog's too thick! Be ready!"
At the knight's cry, Sien, Brender, and the rest of the knights set themselves, blades poised to meet whatever came charging out of the mist.
Nothing came.
Sensing something wrong, Sien spoke at once.
"The civilians?"
"Safe. They're right beside us."
"Then this is..."
An ominous thought flashed through her. If it was neither the main force nor the civilians, only one target remained.
"First Squad!"
"My lady?"
"The First Squad — the ones acting as the strike team. Where are they?"
It should not have been a hard fight. Their own side was made of seasoned knights; the enemy was nothing more than fifth-grade demonic beasts. But the weather, of all things, had caught them by the ankle.
"Position! Can anyone confirm our position?"
"The fog's too thick. It's no use."
The knights of the First Squad clenched their teeth. As the fog had thickened, they had drifted too far from the main force. Advancing by sound alone was more than they could manage — and in the midst of that, the beasts' attacks had grown steadily more frequent. At first they had taken the creatures for stragglers driven off by the main body. It did not take long to realize these were no remnants. They were hunters, and they had come with clear intent.
"Sound the whistle. Let them know where we are."
"Understood!"
A shrill blast carried through the fog. It would be enough for the main force to guess their location. The problem was that the demonic beasts came pouring in as well.
"Three at the rear!"
"Two on the left!"
"Five on the right!"
Four knights against that many was a dangerously tight number. Beasts bursting from fog you could not see through were more terrifying than any unknown thing that might lunge from a nightmare.
Hideous shrieks rolled through the mist. It sounded as if the creatures were laughing at them, and the knights ground their teeth.
A shriek — then a wet crunch. Another shriek — another crunch. Something strange threaded itself between the cries. But the knights, strung taut with tension, never heard it.
"Something's coming!"
At one knight's shout, every man clenched his sword until his knuckles went white. At last, something broke through the fog and showed itself.
"...Huh?"
It was not a demonic beast. It was a person. And it was not one of their fellow knights, either.
"What... what is that?"
The presence that had come toward them resolved into a young man, dressed in clothes so shabby they were barely more than rags.