The Siege of Kow-Dragan Castle
In the future I knew, Leona became a tyrant of staggering cruelty.
If you asked whether she was already a tyrant now, the answer would be yes. That merciless temperament, that complete refusal to heed her vassals' counsel, that habit of deciding everything alone — all of it fit the word perfectly.
But if the Leona of the present was merely a tyrant, the Leona of the future — blackened by betrayal after betrayal — was something closer to a demon king. That was why I meant to stop it. To keep her from growing any crueler than this. To keep her from burning herself to ash.
And for that, I needed to keep a close watch on the traitors waiting in her future.
Several months later — the sixteenth of February, in the year 554 — Leona marched for the central territories at the head of fifty thousand men.
When her army crossed Torgenberg and entered the center, the first domain blocking the road was the Savoia Duchy of Blois de Savoia.
Blois opened the way as promised. She did not stop there: she aided the army's supply and threw in twenty thousand of her own troops for good measure. Just like that, a host of seventy thousand was complete.
The first opponent of Leona's seventy-thousand-strong army was a master archer named Christian Harper.
He was a man who poured mana into his arrows before he loosed them, and in the game he had cultivated a fairly devoted following. Armed forces and houses that specialized in the bow were rare, after all.
As a matter of policy, Christian Harper had encouraged and subsidized archery among the common folk, so that from the head of the house down to the peasantry, the Harper family's marksmanship was formidable.
That was why the Ambrosia family — overlords of the center, capable of fielding more than a hundred thousand troops — had never moved against them. In defensive warfare the Harpers were S-rank, and any assault would have cost a ruinous price.
Leona, however, was not Ambrosia. She meant to crush the Harper family's thirty thousand with her seventy thousand.
Before the attack, she sent an envoy with an offer of surrender: yield now, and the domain would be left intact. Decent terms, as such things went.
Christian Harper sent the messenger packing with a snub. The reason he could afford such defiance was precisely that Leona's numbers were so large.
Contrary to the common belief that more soldiers meant more strength, an excess of troops could become a liability — because of supply. Leona was on an expedition, and the march from the eastern territories into the center had stretched her supply lines to their absolute limit.
Long supply lines and a swollen army. The Kruzenstein force was in a position tailor-made for self-destruction. So Christian Harper resolved to take a hard line: provoke Leona, shut himself inside his walls, and hold out for three months on the strength of their overwhelming defensive power.
"Our side has thousands of master archers, myself included. I will show you exactly why the Ambrosia family has never dared touch the Harpers."
A house of master bowmen. On the walls, the power of the bow needed no explanation. And the enemy's supply situation was precarious. Three months, and they would collapse on their own — that was Christian Harper's plan.
So Leona arrived at the Harper family's great fortress, Kow-Dragan Castle, and the castle began its defense with thirty thousand men.
As she prepared for the siege, Leona spoke to her vassals.
"In my judgment, we will win."
It was neither a rousing speech nor a flourish meant to lift morale. She was simply stating a fact, in a calm, even voice.
"The Kruzenstein Duchy and the Torgenberg Duchy have been at war for more than twenty years. In that time, both armies have become elite forces of the highest order. With battles every year, combat experience accumulates as a matter of course. Those two armies have now been unified under the Kruzenstein banner. There is no way a force like ours loses to the soft, peace-spoiled armies of the center."
The officers nodded. The warriors of House Kruzenstein, tempered by long civil war and campaigns against foreign enemies alike, were sitting on a mountain of hard-won experience — and they were itching to put it to use.
"But do not grow complacent."
Leona raised her voice.
"No matter how strong we are, the battlefield is a place where anything can happen. A lion gives its all even when hunting a rabbit. So even if we face an enemy weaker than ourselves — we give our all!"
At her cry the officers roared back, and the roar rolled outward through the ranks of the soldiers.
Battle was coming.
When morning broke the next day, Leona summoned her generals.
"Hakon. I give you ten thousand men. Take the eastern face of the castle."
"Yes, my lady!"
"Garcia. Likewise, ten thousand. The western face is yours."
"Yes."
"Clemens. Ten thousand for you. Take the north."
"Yes, my lady!"
At that point, I felt a flicker of confusion.
Huh? Then what about me?
Was I just scenery? Leona was not the type to snub a surrendered general. So why was she giving me no role at all?
I had barely finished the thought when the answer left me stunned.
"Franz. I will give you fifteen thousand. Take the main gate."
"The main gate? Me?"
"Can you not manage it?"
"No — I can. It's just…"
I glanced at Clemens. He sat with his eyes closed, utterly still. I looked at the other officers one by one. Not a single face showed any sign that anything was amiss.
Huh.
This battle — I was the lead. The main gate was the place where glory was easiest to seize.
"Are you certain this is all right?"
"And why would it not be?"
"…"
Until not long ago we had been pointing spears at each other. How was I supposed to ask, with my own mouth, whether it was really fine to hand a former enemy a chance like this? No one seemed troubled by it, so I simply accepted the assignment with gratitude.
The starring role in this battle, that is.
"All forces — charge!"
"The enemy is coming! Archers, ready!"
Christian Harper stood atop the walls himself, bow in hand, and loosed his arrows.
Shield-bearers closed in around me — the resolve of the knights determined to protect the head of House Meyer.
But Christian Harper was not aiming at me.
— Whiiish!
An arrow tore through the air with a sound that promised violence, and what its tip shredded was not a man.
It was cloth: a black field bearing the image of an owl perched on a tree. The banner of House Meyer.
— Riiip!
The Meyer banner was torn to ribbons by an arrow of tremendous force. The faces of the house's knights twisted without mercy.
"That bastard…!"
Curses exploded from the knights one after another, raw with fury. A banner was the symbol of a house. To deliberately target one was a breach of the manners of war.
Christian Harper knew that — and shot the banner anyway, as a calculated provocation. Given his world-renowned skill with a bow, it could never have been an accident.
As for me, I couldn't care less about a flag…
A banner could always be made again. The problem was that the knights were enraged. Anger could drive a fight — but it could also strip a man of his composure. I spoke to them.
"Don't spare the banner another thought. When this battle is over, we'll tear their flags to shreds as well."
My tone — as if victory were a given — drew a vigorous answer from the knights.
"Yes, my lord!"
Then the real fighting began, and our side could only be astonished.
Because the enemy was far too strong —
and, at the same time, far too weak.
In the opening phase, our knights reeled.
The arrows coming at them were picking out knights with deliberate, unerring precision.
In real combat, arrows were usually loosed to create a curtain of fire. Hitting anywhere in the general vicinity counted as a perfect score.
But the Harper archers were striking knights cleanly even at long range.
"What kind of accuracy is that…!"
I was as startled as anyone. These were arcing shots, tracing parabolas through the sky — and still they came down dead on target.
"Don't give ground…! We are the elite of the elite! Once we close, we win for certain!"
One knight shouted it. Even as he did, he half-doubted his own words. Against archers of this caliber, could closing the distance really guarantee victory?
But once they accepted the casualties and climbed the ladders…
"Th-they're coming up!"
"Hold them! Hold them! Don't fall back — push forward, damn you!"
The enemy scattered in confusion, milling about in disorder.
Our side packed into a dense formation and charged. Dense formation beats dispersed formation in close combat — an elementary truth — and so our forces seized the walls with almost casual ease.
Question marks floated over our heads.
They shoot brilliantly… but they're trash in a melee?
It was the natural result of the surrounding houses never once invading the Harpers, precisely because they knew how excellent those archers were.
Years of practice had made the Harper family peerless with a bow — but when the fighting closed to arm's length, they were nothing special.
The knights who grasped that fact began shouting it from every direction.
"The enemy can't fight in close quarters! I repeat — the enemy can't fight in close quarters! Close with them no matter what!"
Our side broke through the outer walls far more easily than anyone had expected.