The Way of Trust (1)
KWA-AAAANG!
The towering column of flame was visible even from a great distance. It was fire Iver had unleashed.
"Kyaaaaah!"
"What is that?"
"I-it's coming from the direction of Montegras!"
Even among the refugees who had fled far enough that the avalanche could no longer reach them, the sight sparked a wave of panic. The sudden eruption of fire threw the crowd into chaos. The landscape looked as if the earth itself had split open and spewed lava; some people simply collapsed where they stood and wept, certain their homeland was finished.
In the midst of the confusion, one man kept his composure and took command of the others.
"Everyone, get a hold of yourselves!"
It was Duke Lushan.
His voice never wavered, cold and steady even in the face of the sudden crisis, and it cut through the panic like a blade.
"Warriors, look after the people! Make sure no one in a panic does anything reckless! The safety of the citizens comes first! I will go and investigate that fire myself. Anyone spreading baseless rumors will answer to me!"
The duke's command was absolute. The warriors sprang into motion at once, racing among the refugees and calming the turmoil.
Yet for all the frost in Duke Lushan's eyes, his insides were rotting with worry. The secret Kenis had whispered to him earlier still rang in his ears.
His only daughter was still inside Montegras.
Friga… just what kind of mess have you gotten yourself into?
KWA-AAAAANG—!!
Another explosion. This one dwarfed the first.
"What an enormous blaze," the knight at the duke's side murmured in involuntary awe.
Duke Lushan clenched his fist until the knuckles whitened.
Just what in the world was she doing…
"Your Grace. If you are worried about Lady Friga, I could go and check on her myself…"
A white-haired man appeared at his side without a sound, his voice a low whisper. As always, he was unnervingly quiet, his presence almost impossible to sense.
How he had learned of Friga's situation was anyone's guess.
The escort knight clicked his tongue under his breath. Distrust filled his eyes; he clearly found the man hard to trust.
Duke Lushan answered without looking away from the distant fire.
"No need. I did not raise my daughter to be fragile. She will find her own way out. And—"
You people still have not earned the people's trust.
He swallowed the rest of the sentence and cast a sidelong glance at his knight. He had not finished the thought aloud, yet the white-haired man seemed to understand perfectly and simply nodded.
"I see… Very well. It seems my concern was excessive."
He, too, could guess the words the duke had left unspoken.
The knight's gaze was a familiar kind—the kind that looked at their appearance and immediately doubted, rejected, and guarded against them.
White hair. Blood-red eyes. Skin drained of color, the sort that seemed to burn beneath the sun.
It would have been stranger not to be wary.
…I expected we would not be accepted easily.
Someone had once said that one does not grow numb to pain; one merely becomes accustomed to enduring it.
The man bowed in silence and bore the suspicious stares. From the moment their kind, who had lived hidden in the shadows, had resolved to step into the sunlight, they had prepared themselves for this.
"Hah…! Hah—! Your Grace! Your Grace! It's serious!"
"What is it? Stop flailing and speak calmly!"
A warrior came sprinting toward the two men, each of whom had been lost in his own thoughts. The duke's brow furrowed as he barked at the man. A northern warrior, panicking like this? Unthinkable.
Tsk. In my younger days, warriors never even breathed hard no matter how far they ran.
After a moment to catch his breath, the warrior spoke, eyes trembling.
"Th-there are…! A large number of werewolves and demons approaching from the front!!"
"What—!"
The escort knight's head snapped around like lightning, fixing the white-haired man with a glare.
It was the white-haired people who had guided the refugees here. And this place was a vast, open snowfield with no cover whatsoever—terrain that put their relatively small numbers at a severe disadvantage if they had to fight while protecting civilians.
And now, as if on cue, werewolves and demons came pouring in?
Even if one tried not to be suspicious, the situation invited suspicion.
The white-haired man seemed to realize it as well; his eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. He brushed the snow from his clothes with light taps and met Duke Lushan's gaze squarely.
"…Is this truly not some scheme of yours?"
An obvious question.
"If I say it is not, will the people believe me? More importantly—do you believe me, Your Grace?"
"I do. The Hero vouched for you, and Miss Selina confirmed it."
"Then—"
"Even so, the people will find it hard to believe. The circumstances make it look as though you planned this."
Words alone would not be enough. Something more was required.
"Your Grace, we will show them ourselves."
"Show them what?"
"That we are nothing like demons."
"And how do you propose to do that?"
The man began to melt into shadow from his feet upward. It was the simplest thing in the world.
"Pull the warriors back. Our clan alone will slaughter every last werewolf and demon. If we do that… will the people trust us even a little?"
A bitter taste filled his mouth.
A blessing that had degenerated into a curse. Because of it, they who had lived hidden in the shadows had yearned for even a handful of light. Always they had been forced to flee into darkness to escape suspicion and contempt.
This time is no different.
Duke Lushan caught the man just as he was about to vanish into the shadows.
"Do you know something? There are two ways to become friends with northern warriors."
"?"
The white-haired man turned at the duke's sudden remark.
"One is to drink until your nose is crooked and laugh and talk the whole night through. In the north, liquor is the most sociable and best friend a man can have."
"Liquor?"
"And the other… is to stand back-to-back and fight the enemy together. Northerners never abandon family or friends. Especially not comrades who have shared life and death."
"Comrades…"
The man murmured the word.
"I will assign as many warriors as I can. Holy knights and Imperial knights will join you as well."
"Fight side by side and build bonds… is that the idea?"
It seemed almost too straightforward a method. Yet for becoming closer to the warriors—and for shifting the people's gaze even a little—it felt like a sound approach.
"We do not mock the warriors who fight at the front. Still less if they are our comrades."
"…Thank you."
The man bowed his head and melted soundlessly into the shadows.
He rose again inside a tent at the outermost edge of the refugee camp. The thick canvas admitted not a single ray of light; the interior was pure darkness, so black one could not see an inch ahead.
And—
Thirty pairs of crimson eyes filled that darkness.
Eyes as red as flowing blood, melting into the shadows until the tent seemed packed with them. Anyone of weak nerves would have fainted on the spot at the sight.
The man who had spoken with Duke Lushan murmured toward those eyes.
"Prepare for battle."
No long speech was needed.
"The enemy is wolves and demons. Warriors, holy knights, and knights will fight alongside us. See to it that not a single one of them is harmed."
One by one the red eyes closed and vanished. Each would prepare for the coming fight in their own way. In darkness, every place was within their reach.
When the last pair of eyes had disappeared, the white-haired man himself dissolved into the dark.
Only silent darkness remained inside the tent.
"What the hell, One-Eye? We never heard anything about this!"
One of the northern warriors fiddling with his axe grumbled. At the end of his line of sight stood a white-haired woman. She had been hiding in the shadows as if sunlight itself would kill her. The combination of red eyes and lifeless skin made her look thoroughly sinister.
"Hiiik…"
When their eyes met, the woman let out a dying squeak and shrank into a corner, looking for all the world like a hedgehog curling up to hide from a predator.
One-Eye answered gruffly.
"Shut it and check your weapons. She may not look like much, but she could kill the likes of you with one finger."
"What? Guh—! Just 'cause I had a little drink! Huh? A woman like that ain't even worth a chew of gum!"
He had clearly been unable to wait and had already started drinking; the reek of alcohol poured from the northern warrior's mouth. One-Eye frowned—not because of the stench or the man's sorry state, but because his own hand kept wanting to reach for the bottle tucked inside his coat.
As deputy commander standing in for Lady Friga, One-Eye knew the dignity he had to maintain. He fought the temptation of liquor with everything he had. If it had been only northern warriors here, dignity be damned—he would have drunk until his nose was crooked. But they were not alone.
"Prepare for battle! In the name of the Six Gods! Reduce the wicked fiends to ash!"
""In the name of the Six Gods!!""
On one side, holy knights burned with fanatical faith.
Thud— thud—!
"For His Majesty the Emperor! For the eternal prosperity of the Empire!"
""Raise your shields!""
On the other, knights stomped the ground with steel boots and hammered their shields, whipping up their fighting spirit.
"Guhhh—! Nothing sweeter than a drink right before a fight!"
"Ha! That's the stuff! Huh? One-Eye! You not drinkin'?"
The misery of wanting a drink and being unable to take one. Whether or not they understood the agony of a man desperately resisting temptation, the northern warriors had gathered off to one side and opened a full-blown drinking party.
How many times had his trembling hand reached for the bottle in his coat only to be forced back? One-Eye endured the lure of liquor with tears of blood in his heart.
Thududududu—
Beyond the horizon, a dense snowstorm was rising. It was no natural wind.
"Kirrrrk!"
"Awooo! Krrrrr—!"
"Hu-man! Grrup! Eat—! Kurrup!! Eat—!"
Countless werewolves and demons came charging in a pack. The werewolves, eyes dyed red and devoid of any reason, raced on all fours with drool streaming from their jaws. The demons each propelled themselves across the ground in their own grotesque fashion.
And at the very rear of the horde floated a crimson oval in midair—the gate the Archdemon had forged from blood. They had fled through it to this place just before the avalanche struck.
Watching the mad charge of the demons was a spectacle in itself. Like ink blackening the snowfield, they left sticky footprints as they blindly rushed the humans.
The humans stood like a solid wall of stone; the demons were the spear-points hurtling toward it.
"Raise the shields—! The gods are watching!"
"The gods and His Majesty stand with us! For the Emperor! For the eternal Empire!"
"Hic! Damn, I'm dizzy. Should've gone easy on the booze."
Each group finished preparing in its own way to meet the demons.
Kihiieeeek!
The demon at the very front lunged, drooling purple saliva, fangs gleaming as it leapt at the unyielding wall of shields.
Pshushuk! Chwahak!
Thirty spikes erupted from the shadows all around and punched straight through the demons' snouts.
"We will fight with you…"
Thirty-one pairs of crimson eyes shimmered within the demons' own shadows.
Chwaaaak!
Once more the spikes rose from the dark. Purple blood sprayed across the white snow, and then, throughout the demon horde, shadows began to surge upward.