What Cannot Be Helped (2)
"Ghhk! Kegh!"
"Khaack! Hack!"
Why did I ever say those words?
Why in the world did we do this?
Screaming, drowning in bitter regret, the attendants drove their legs forward as if their lives depended on it. Most of them were teetering on the edge of collapse. It would not have been strange if any one of them had simply crumpled where they stood. And yet nearly every last one of them kept running, pouring every ounce of strength they had left into the next step.
The reason they clenched their teeth and pushed on was painfully simple.
"W-wait! Wait—!"
One attendant had fallen farther and farther behind until the main group was nothing but a distant blur. Behind him, Adel approached at a measured walk, club in hand.
"I will keep this brief. Get up."
It was not an empty threat. He actually beat them. The attendants who witnessed it went pale — and so did the knights. Training mattered, yes, but needless losses of fighting strength were to be avoided. And yet here he was, clubbing anyone who lagged behind without so much as a warning. Anyone looking on would have called it excessive.
Even so, Brender and Rascal both gave their tacit consent. Adel was strong, and that strength existed for a reason. One of those reasons was surely a body of iron. If the attendants could even come close to half that stamina, the family would only benefit.
"If you do not stand while I count to five, I will take that as your consent."
"I understand. I understand, Adel. Just a second, just a—"
"Five."
Counting to five, as it turned out, did not mean counting from one to five. It meant five.
The moment Adel stepped forward with the club, the attendant lurched to his feet. And Adel, with practiced precision, struck only the fleshiest parts of the body — never bone, never muscle, never organ. Just pain. Blinding, mind-clearing, impossible-to-ignore pain. He swung the club as if this were the most ordinary thing in the world.
"I-I'm going! I'm going!"
"There will not be a second time."
The attendant tore forward again in a mad sprint. He did not get far before his legs gave out once more — not from exhaustion this time, but from something else entirely.
"Aaaagh!"
He had thought his stamina was something he could rely on. The moment he pushed past that limit, a cramp seized him. His muscles locked. He could not run. This was not a matter of will or endurance. Even a knight would have been helpless against it.
"Nngh…"
The attendant pictured Adel coming up behind him. He did not want another taste of that club. He had to stand. And then, abruptly, he realized he was the only one on the ground. His fellow attendants were all gasping, all ragged — and yet none of them had fallen the way he had. They were still running. Forward. Always forward. Every last one of them, charging on.
…Am I the only one? The only one falling behind?
Somewhere in that moment, the fear of Adel approaching from behind simply vanished. In its place rose the sight of his comrades disappearing ahead of him, and with it a crushing, miserable shame. If he stayed like this, he would be left behind. Alone.
"Ghhk…"
He forced his locked legs to move, straining to stand. I can do more. No — I have to do more. He wanted to be with them. He wanted to be at their side. If every one of them could do this, there was no reason he could not.
"Guhhk!"
But the cramp would not release him. His body refused to obey, and the helplessness of it was almost worse than the pain. His comrades were all clenching their teeth and pushing through, and he alone had gone down. The shame of it was more than he could bear.
Then, suddenly, he felt his body lift into the air. And that familiar, even voice reached his ear.
"There will not be a second time."
Adel slung the attendant over one shoulder and picked up speed. Running unburdened was hard enough — and he was carrying a grown man. A moment later, he hoisted a second attendant onto the other shoulder.
"Hahh! Hahh!"
The others, still pounding forward, saw it. Adel, two men slung across his shoulders, was accelerating — and then he overtook the entire lead pack.
Something stubborn and fierce kindled in their chests. That man was faster than all of them with two people on his back. What, then, were they doing? What did it mean to fall behind Adel?
"Krrraaah! Aaaaaah!!"
The attendants roared and poured on speed. Their hearts felt ready to burst. Their muscles felt ready to tear. They did not stop. They did not rest. They did not give up. They wanted to catch the man running out ahead of them. Even if they could not overtake him, they wanted to stay right on his heels.
"Khuhhk! Hahh! Khuhk!"
At last they reached the finish, and the attendants crumpled. Adel had arrived first long ago and was already looking over the two men seized by cramps. Only after the last straggler had come in did he quietly lower himself into a ready stance.
"We are not finished."
"Khuhk?"
"You must not rest yet. If your bodies cool this soon, it will all have been for nothing."
From Adel's perspective, this was barely the beginning. A task once accepted was a task to be done with everything one had. And so, just as his fellow attendants had asked of him, he had resolved to lead them with the very best he could give.
"What in the world is going on?"
Meanwhile, the instructors, who had sensed a commotion far louder than usual, stood watching the attendants tear across the grounds like madmen. At first they had assumed it was voluntary extra training. A closer look made it clear: Adel was the one drilling them.
This could get a little awkward.
Gifted as he was, Adel was still an attendant — the same as the rest of them. Training attendants was a knight's duty, not a fellow attendant's. Handled poorly, it could be construed as overstepping his station. Everyone in Lichtenauer acknowledged his excellence. But if that excellence started feeding arrogance… that was a possibility the instructors could not help but worry over.
And yet no one moved to stop him. They only watched the attendants, and Adel, with a peculiar look in their eyes. The commander, Brender, had given his consent, as had Rascal, who stood as his senior. And this was the same Adel who had crossed blades with Sir Geon of the Fiore family and with Sir Deri, once an Imperial Knight. An attendant, yes — but one who needed the words genius or monster attached to the title. By the book, they ought to have intervened. In practice, they simply could not.
"A thought just occurred to me, gentlemen. Perhaps we ought to start training a little harder ourselves."
If anything, they had reached the point of genuine concern. If Adel became a kind of leader and began supporting the attendants — if those men rose even a single step above where they stood now — then the seniors themselves would no longer be able to rest easy.
"I have to admit… it might sting the pride a little."
To go asking for help not from the senior instructors, but from a fellow attendant. That the fellow attendant in question was Adel made it understandable enough — and yet they could not quite shake the feeling that they, as seniors, were falling short.
Starting today, we double the training load.
My sword path has felt a little blocked lately. I'll find the way through before the month is out.
And so an unseasonable storm of training swept through Lichtenauer.
"This time, we keep a reserve unit in place and watch how the situation develops."
"Even if it is only fifth-grade, we cannot afford to let our guard down. Prepare thoroughly."
"Only wounded, you said? That's a relief. A true relief."
Even as she worked steadily through her documents, Sien poured her attention into the matter that mattered most: the rifts. And perhaps her efforts were bearing fruit. In the nearly full month that had passed, not a single soldier had fallen. Serious injuries were inevitable, and there had been more than a few — but not one precious life had been lost.
"This time we hold with soldiers, not knights. They need more experience."
"Have the knights stand by, then push in from the flanks."
As success piled upon success, Sien's confidence grew sharper. Her judgments became surer, her actions bolder. She was not always on the front line, fighting beside them — but she helped every battle with the very best she could give. So that no one would be lost. So that no one would be allowed to die. She had done well so far. She would do well from here on. Holding that thought close, she carried out her duties as Family Head.
"Family Head."
Then, one day, a report arrived that was unlike the others.
"Family Head. I bring a report. A rift has opened. But two rifts have appeared at once, and not far apart from each other."
"At the same time? Are you certain?"
"Yes. Multiple witnesses have confirmed that they opened simultaneously."
Sien's brow furrowed. Rifts, as a rule, appeared one at a time. Only very rarely did two open together — and when they did, the placement of troops became critically important. There were occasions when demonic beasts that amplified one another's strength emerged at the same moment, creating a situation that, from a human standpoint, was as dangerous as anything could be.
"I think I had better go myself this time."
When Sien made that decision, neither Brender nor Rascal nor anyone else raised a word of objection.
By the time they reached the field, the soldiers were already under the knights' command. After a month of battles that had been very nearly perfect, no one looked particularly worried.
"Family Head. You've arrived."
"The situation? What are the rift grades?"
"One is fifth-grade, the other fourth. The circumstances are a little unusual, however, so we've prepared twice the usual number of reserves."
Sien nodded, satisfied. If they prepared thoroughly and stayed ready, they could win this one too. Everyone would live. Everyone would go home to their families.
"Fight as we always do — but keep every sense sharp for the unexpected."
"Understood."
Those in command returned to their posts. Sien and her personal knights made for the highest ground, ready to survey the field.
"Lady Sien."
Meanwhile, Adel quietly drew up beside her.
"I believe it would be best to pull the reserve unit to the rear."
"Move the reserves to the rear?"
Adel nodded. Sien looked at him as though she did not quite follow. The reserves needed to wait near the front if they were to answer an emergency. If the formation broke and their own people were driven back, someone had to be close enough to relieve them at once. And yet Adel was telling her to pull those same reserves all the way to the back.
"I have seen cases like this before."
"Cases like this… you mean when rifts form at the same time?"
"Yes. In cases like this, it almost never ends at two."
Sien looked at him for a long moment. Had anyone else said it, she would have wavered. But it was Adel who had spoken, and that made it possible — even likely. Her decision made, she called for a messenger at once.
"Move the reserves to the rear immediately."
"Pardon? Family Head. Let me confirm once more. You want the reserves moved to the rear?"
"Yes. Deliver it now."
For the briefest instant, a look crossed the messenger's face — Is that really wise? If the reserve unit that had been standing at their backs suddenly withdrew, unrest could ripple through the soldiers preparing for battle. And unrest, in a fight against demonic beasts, had a way of turning fatal.
"…Understood. Reserves to the rear. I will deliver the order."
But command — the decision itself — belonged to Sien alone. His task was simply to carry the order without fail. Holding that thought, the messenger spurred his horse and rode hard.
…
Adel stood still, gazing at a single point in the distance. This time, he had the distinct feeling that he would have to step in himself.