Prediction and Outcome (3)
Amir Castle.
Situated on the eastern fringe of the northern continent, it sat neither on any notable thoroughfare nor atop any special resource. It had never known dazzling prosperity — but in times of chaos, that very remoteness had spared it the worst of the storm, allowing it to cultivate a quiet peace of its own. At present, beyond a minimal garrison of some three thousand men, the fortress had made no particular preparations for defense. And it was to this place that a new order from Sovereign Serpina had just been delivered.
"You mean to say we are to use the conscripted troops for the defense and security of our own castle?"
"Yes, that is correct."
"And that is our lord's command?"
Pavel von Amir — lord of Amir Castle, and thirteenth head of the Amir family, one of the seven great houses that had served the Aingart line since the days of the old empire — stroked his chin with a puzzled frown.
"It is."
"Not reinforcements for some other fortress, then?"
"No."
"…Hah."
Stationing troops in a backwater like this? What was going on?
It was not that he doubted his lord's judgment. In Pavel's eyes, Serpina von Aingart was a far greater figure than any emperor who had come before her, and nearly every decision she had ever made had proven to have its reasons.
Even so, the order was hard to swallow.
Is something about to happen nearby?
There had been no signs of unrest, and the surrounding villages were as peaceful as ever…
Pavel shook his head, dismissing the thought.
Enough. My lord must have her reasons.
There was nothing unethical about the command — it was simply an order to shore up their defenses. No point fretting over it.
"Very well. I shall post the conscription notices at once. Relay this to the relevant departments."
"Yes, my lord!"
And so the conscription notices went up across Amir Castle.
Because the territory had long enjoyed peace without regular drafts, there was no shortage of young men. The people of the domain raised no particular objection, and some eighteen thousand soldiers were mustered without incident — a force that would become a solid backbone of the castle's strength.
Among those eighteen thousand was a young man named Louis, freshly twenty, who had until then spent his days helping with the family farm and little else.
Being forcibly conscripted had not exactly thrilled him at first — but public sentiment toward Serpina in Amir Castle was fairly favorable, and that made it easy for the soldiers under her banner to take a certain pride in their service.
Even an ordinary youth like Louis found himself rather enjoying the work: strapping on a proper suit of armor and patrolling the streets to keep the peace.
Louis and most of the other conscripts were trained as a garrison force specialized in the defense of Amir Castle. Day after day, week after week, they drilled to the constant refrain that a surprise attack was expected and that they should prepare themselves for it.
How anyone could launch a surprise assault on a place this remote was beyond him — but Louis, who had never set foot in an academy and could barely claim even the barest rudiments of literacy, did not bother thinking too hard about it.
The higher-ups know what they're doing, I suppose.
Besides, he liked the hours spent gripping a spear and training. Serving as a soldier of Serpina's army, working for her sake — it was beginning to give him a real sense of being alive.
The fact that no enemy force had yet appeared was, by comparison, a trivial concern.
Weeks passed. By the time Louis's identity as a soldier had begun to feel sharper and more vivid than his old self as a farmer, he was out on patrol again, just like any other day.
With eighteen thousand new soldiers rotating through every corner of the domain, public order had improved considerably. Wherever the patrols went, the gratitude of the townsfolk followed. Even with the sluggish, grinding pace of shift work, Louis was certain he could keep at it — because of the honor that came with those grateful looks.
And so, in the middle of another ordinary patrol—
"Anyone home?"
Louis gave a light knock on the door of a shabby house. Getting a rough sense of who lived where was part of a patrol's duties. It served as a simple household survey, and places like this sometimes doubled as hideouts for thieves. Amir Castle's security had never been truly bad, but with so few troops previously stationed there, the finer corners of the domain had gone unchecked. They were making up for that now.
Before long, a young boy appeared in the half-open doorway.
"…What is it?"
"We're patrolling the area, son."
"Oh. Um… my parents aren't home right now. They said they'd be back soon, though…"
Still just a child. His clothes were grimy, his skin dry and rough — the look of someone who hadn't been eating well. Thinking of his own younger siblings back home, Louis felt a twinge in his chest and, with the well-meaning meddling of a young man, decided to do something about it.
Right.
He had packed some food for later, in case he got hungry on the evening shift. It would be dark soon enough — why not share a meal with the kid?
"Hey. Mind if I come in for a bit?"
"Huh? Why…?"
"Big brother here will cook you something good."
"B-but…"
Growl—
The boy's stomach answered for him the moment he heard the words "something good." Embarrassed by the reflex, he hurriedly bowed his head. Louis smiled kindly.
"It's fine. No need to be shy. I have to eat anyway — and it'd be nicer to cook it properly with real utensils."
The boy hesitated for a long moment, then carefully nodded.
"I'll come in, then?"
The interior was not quite as dilapidated as the exterior suggested. Still, the absence of any visible ingredients made it clear the household was far from well-off.
"Where's the kitchen?"
"Ah… o-over there."
Following the boy's directions, Louis found the kitchen cluttered with odds and ends.
Might as well clear these out of the way.
He scooped them up roughly, then pulled the cooking ingredients from his pouch. The menu: a simple home-style vegetable stew. Not a scrap of meat in it, but the richness of the butter made it a surprisingly tasty specialty of his — one he took quiet pride in.
It was not a dish that took long, and before long the two of them were warming their insides with a hot meal.
"Good, right?"
The boy nodded vigorously.
Yes. Louis was a man who ate Serpina's salt now, wasn't he? His lord governed more wisely than any ruler of the old empire, and the people of her domains supported her for it. To avoid bringing shame upon such a lord, looking after the people one by one, as far as his hands could reach — that was only right.
And so a dinner slightly more special than usual came to an end. After parting with the boy, Louis continued his patrol for several more hours before returning to the barracks for the shift change.
"Well done, all of you. Even while resting, the enemy may strike without warning — stay ready to deploy at any moment."
"Yes, sir!"
They had been warned every single day without fail that the enemy might launch a surprise attack, but Louis honestly felt no real tension from it… or so he was thinking, when—
"You there."
"Ah — yes, sir!"
Louis snapped to attention at the superior officer pointing him out.
"What's your name?"
"Louis, sir!"
"Louis. As a soldier of Serpina's army, what did we say was most important?"
"To conduct oneself properly and keep one's person neat and orderly, sir!"
"Then why is a fellow who knows that so well walking around with his pockets stuffed full of junk?"
"…?"
Louis looked down. His pocket was bulging unsightly.
Ah.
Right. Back at the boy's house, when he had cleared the clutter off the kitchen counter to get at his ingredients — he must have pocketed the lot without thinking.
"I-I'm sorry, sir!"
"Clean it out. Now."
Louis hurriedly emptied the odds and ends from his pocket. Come to think of it, the kitchen had been too dark to see properly… what was this, exactly?
By the light of a torch, he examined the round object he had pulled free.
…Huh?
This was… a crest.
The emblem of House Aingart.
He was uneducated and ignorant, but even he could recognize the design engraved on his own armor. So this was a brooch bearing the family crest?
The question of why it had been there was quickly overshadowed by a far more fundamental one.
The design looks a little different…
Where the eagle should have been, three diagonal lines had been scored across it — lines that should not have been there…
"What are you standing around for? Hurry up and put that away."
"Y-yes, sir! It's just — this is…"
"?"
The officer stepped closer, peered at the brooch Louis had been staring at blankly, and began in a stern tone:
"I don't know what it is, but put it away so we can change shi— so we can…"
More precisely, he had meant to speak sternly — and then the words died in his throat.
The crest of House Aingart, marked with three diagonal lines.
The moment he recognized it, the color drained from his face. He stood frozen in shock, staring at Louis — who still wore a vacant, uncomprehending expression — and slowly, carefully, drew the sword from his hip, leveling the blade at the young man's throat.
"…S-sir?"
"You'd better answer carefully, boy. That thing… where did you get it?"
The Aingart Royal Palace.
Seated upon the throne, Serpina gazed into the middle distance with a look of weary boredom.
The conscription order issued to Amir Castle had been carried out smoothly. Roughly eighteen thousand troops had been added to the fortress. Those forces had remained there for training, never reassigned elsewhere, and had taken up patrols within the castle itself, assuming responsibility for the domain's public order.
A garrison that had numbered barely two thousand was now twenty thousand strong. The improvement in security was undeniable — two thousand men could never have properly covered every corner of the territory.
But that was all.
Serpina was waiting for the "moment" Swen had spoken of. If his words had been true, the banners of the Aethers Army should already have been visible across the river.
And yet the riverbanks remained utterly still. Even when she sent scouts deep into the mountain ranges just to be sure, there was no sign of any force advancing.
If he had been right, their arrival should have been only a few days away by now. Instead, peaceful days continued to pass without incident.
At this point, doubt was inevitable.
Just because he was a man from a dream — just because he seemed to use magic, just because I saw that flash of brilliance in his eyes — did I overestimate him?
At that moment, the doors of the palace opened, and a man walked toward her.
A young man with white hair, dressed in a somewhat unusual fashion, his green rapier concealed beneath the folds of his cloak — Swen.
"Swen greets his lord."
He had come because Serpina herself had summoned him. She had waited long enough, she decided.
"Raise your head, Swen."
Serpina looked straight into the eyes of the man who lifted his gaze to meet hers.
Now was the time to speak with him. To learn what he was thinking — and what his true intentions were.
She drew a quiet breath, sharpened her focus as though facing a foreign envoy rather than one of her own officers, and slowly parted her shimmering rose-pink lips.
"Swen. Do you not have something to say to Us?"