Ominous Premonition (6)
When people spoke of “the life of the imperial family,” what image usually came to mind? A mountain of gold coins that never ran dry no matter how deeply you dug into it? Delicacies crafted from the finest ingredients offered in tribute from every corner of the continent? Dreamlike days spent in the company of beautiful men and women?
It wasn’t entirely wrong, thought Leon Fleet Barhart, Crown Prince of the Barhart Empire. The part about enjoying those dreamlike days with beautiful women, at least, came with the massive caveat that ignoring the resulting succession headaches would bring endless trouble. Still, if he truly wanted something, there was little he couldn’t obtain.
Yet if one asked whether being a member of the imperial family meant a life of pure leisure, the answer was rather more complicated. From the moment he was old enough to hold a pen, an unrelenting barrage of education had descended upon him. Mathematics, languages, military strategy, literature, the arts, rhetoric, economics, diplomacy, history, theology—so much knowledge that he sometimes wondered whether any of it would actually prove useful. Even so, any heir to a house of status was expected to master such things.
The truly exhausting duties lay elsewhere. Mediating day after day between nobles who came whining for him to side with their faction, each insisting the other side was clearly in the wrong. Dealing with his wretched second brother, who threw down challenges at every opportunity while sneering that being born a few years earlier gave no one the right to act superior—the next emperor would be him. And then there was his fourth brother, who smiled like a perfect gentleman in public, murmuring, “Good day to you, brother. The weather is fine today, isn’t it?” while secretly weaving insidious plots in the shadows. On top of it all, he had to clean up after His Majesty the Emperor, who offloaded every inconvenient task onto his heir under the excuse of “gaining experience.”
They were responsibilities a Crown Prince of the Empire was duty-bound to shoulder, so he could not complain, but…
“…Still, don’t you think it’s a bit much to ship me straight back to the academy the moment I return from resolving the magic stone trade issue with the Spero Kingdom, Julius?”
“Haha… I’m afraid I have no comforting words to offer.”
The young man with the somewhat timid bearing—ill-suited to his station as Third Prince of the Empire—scratched his head awkwardly. Julius Verbal Barhart. Because of his sickly constitution and gentle nature, he had never stood out. Yet precisely because of that, his sincere and unassuming demeanor made him closer to Leon than any of his other siblings. The Crown Prince let out a hearty laugh.
“True. There’s no point in grumbling at you. Forgive me for putting you in an awkward position.”
“Not at all, brother. If anything, I am ashamed that my own inadequacy prevents me from lightening your burden.”
“Your words alone are thanks enough. Tell me, then—what do you make of this contest?”
Julius studied the overhead projection displaying the battlefield footage prepared for the Crown Prince, the Third Prince, and several honored guests, along with a bird’s-eye view of the academy and southern army’s current formations.
“Hmm. While the southern army has spread five units in a wide fan, the academy has split theirs into three. It appears one academy unit will pin down the enemy while the other two strike the southern army’s right wing.”
“That does seem likely. However, I doubt that is the whole of their plan. Aside from those three large units, smaller detachments are positioned on the flanks. I suspect they mean to serve as guerrillas.”
The officials tasked with observing the match alongside the Crown Prince and Third Prince offered their own opinions.
“Yet from this vantage the numerical disparity looks even more overwhelming. The southern army commander isn’t behaving very maturely.”
“Hehe. From what I hear, the southern army originally proposed half their current numbers, but the academy refused, claiming it wouldn’t constitute proper training.”
“Is that true? No matter how one looks at it, that’s reckless.”
“They must have let pride rob them of wisdom. Even with priests and medics standing by, I hope the students don’t suffer too greatly.”
“They are soldiers trained in real combat. Surely they will exercise proper restraint.”
The spectator seats carried a distinctly relaxed atmosphere, as though the outcome had been decided before the first blow was struck. It was only natural, Leon thought. Even to his eyes—praised for their keen strategic insight—the academy’s chances looked painfully slim.
…Come to think of it, Lyla is among them. I hope she doesn’t push herself too hard and takes care of her body.
His quiet hope that no member of the imperial family would suffer serious injury—something that would create endless complications—was shattered the instant the mock battle began.
“Hm? Doesn’t the academy’s movement seem rather odd?”
At one official’s murmur, every gaze that had been idly chatting snapped toward the screen.
Contrary to all predictions, the three units believed to be the academy’s main force charged straight at the southern army’s right wing without a single one stopping to pin anyone down. Only the small support unit remained—and even that promptly split in two, refusing to follow behind the larger groups. The force heading toward the southern army’s left wing numbered at most twenty. No matter that they weren’t required to defeat the enemy, such numbers could hardly even serve as a distraction.
Leon, scrutinizing the footage once more, suddenly spotted a figure with vivid red hair advancing on the enemy’s left flank. His eyes widened.
Just what are you planning?
“Reporting! The enemy’s main force has split into three units and appears to be charging our right wing! Units One, Two, and Three are preparing for engagement!”
The temporary commander of the southern army’s Fourth Unit nodded at the scout’s report. An attack concentrated on either the left or right wing had been easy to predict from the moment the formations were set.
“Hm. At this rate we might not even get a proper fight. Should we call that lucky?”
“More like a blank ticket, sir. We’ve lost our chance to shine.”
He chuckled at his adjutant’s grumbling.
“Enough. What great achievement is there in showing off against children? Besides, these aren’t ordinary kids—they’re precious sons and daughters of noble houses. If anyone actually dies, the aftermath will be exhausting.”
“It’s a mock battle. Isn’t some risk expected? If they were that afraid, they shouldn’t have agreed to the match in the first place. Or they shouldn’t have enrolled in the academy at all.”
“I doubt even half the students in there enrolled while fully prepared for that kind of resolve. Anyway, enough chatter. Let’s move. All units, shift toward Unit Three and—”
“Report! A small force of approximately twenty is approaching rapidly from the southwest! Their speed is extremely high!”
“…Hm?”
At the sudden report he seized the magnification spell-equipped telescope issued by command. …Just as reported—twenty, no, twenty-three. Surely they don’t think that number can stop us?
Every one of them was using body-strengthening or movement spells powered by magic, moving at a speed no ordinary infantry could hope to match and only cavalry could keep up with. It was an impressive sight, but that was all. No matter how highly one rated a mage’s ability to fight dozens or even hundreds of foes, such evaluations applied to veterans with ample skill and experience. These were students who had trained for merely half a year; their level was inevitably far lower.
Moreover, the Fourth Unit possessed exactly twenty mages, including the commander himself. They held the numerical advantage. Even in a pure clash of mages the outcome seemed doubtful, and the enemy faced regular troops equipped with spell-granted gear besides. At this point, marching straight at them felt almost insulting.
“…Very well. We’ll answer in kind. All units! Prepare to fire!”
“Is that wise, sir? The army commander ordered us to avoid using bows if possible since adjusting their power is difficult.”
“Weren’t you the one saying casualties are only natural in mock battles? And mages unconsciously circulate magic to protect their bodies. They won’t die so easily.”
“Understood. Archers! Nock arrows! Aim as though facing cavalry!”
Taut bowstrings sang in unison. No matter how often they were mocked as the weakest of the empire’s Five Swords, they were still one of those five. A storm of arrows flew with terrifying accuracy toward the rapidly approaching academy students—accuracy too high to believe they were targeting fast-moving targets.
“Do not stop firing until the signal! Mage corps, if the enemy uses defensive spells, bombard them from above! Knights, prepare to charge!”
This initial volley was merely a probe. If the enemy foolishly halted or focused solely on defense, they would pour firepower on without mercy. And if the enemy refused to stop—
“Enemy evading!”
“Now! Charge!”
It was difficult for everyone to dodge a rain of arrows falling from above by moving in the same direction. The students naturally scattered to avoid the volley, and from the Fourth Unit’s perspective that was the perfect opportunity. A knight order of seven mages charged the students. Their targets were the three closest to the Fourth Unit—members who had responded by accelerating rather than simply diving sideways like the others.
Had all the students used the same method it would have been troublesome, but right now they were merely prey that had strayed from the herd.
If only they had used proper tactics—attacking with long-range spells from a distance before retreating—they might have bought some time. In the end, they really are just novices.
The basic principle of tactics was to use superior numbers against inferior ones. The seven knights would cut down the three enemies in the blink of an eye and move on to the next targets.
Clang!
A sharp metallic ring echoed. A southern army knight faltered in confusion. Had his attack been blocked by a shield? Or had it simply failed to pierce armor? No. His blade had stopped dead in midair. As though an invisible wall stood there.
Seeing the faint blue magical energy radiating from the translucent wall that had sprung up between them and the students, another knight shouted.
“It’s a magic barrier! Circle around!”
The knights leapt aside at once—only to fall into panic.
“This side is blocked too!”
“Here as well!”
“W-when did he—?!”
A perfect ten-meter square. Translucent magical walls had sealed them in on all four sides as if trapping them. The speed was far too fast for the barriers to have been erected after they began their attack.
Don’t tell me he left only the side we would enter open and set the trap in advance?!
As if to confirm the horrifying suspicion, the three students who had looked flustered only moments ago now gazed at them with mischievous smiles.
“A-above! Escape upward—”
“—I’m sorry, but that won’t be possible.”
A woman’s voice rang out from atop one side of the translucent barrier. The Fourth Unit commander, recognizing the hair that burned like living flame, screamed.
“Shoot! Arrows, spells—stop her!”
His subordinates obeyed, but every attack was helplessly blocked by the other students positioned around her.
The knights tried to endure by reinforcing their bodies with magic, but with no room to dodge and no place to hide, withstanding consecutive direct hits from high-tier spells was simply impossible. One by one they lost consciousness and collapsed. The sight burned itself into the eyes of every southern army soldier present.
“Well then,” came a gentle voice, spreading across the field like a nightmare. “Who’s next?”