Zeiland Defense (2)
At Airen's command, the soldiers of the Brans Army surged toward Zeiland Castle as one.
"Loose!"
At a single word from Luna, stationed upon the walls, the elite archers of the Raven Mercenary Group unleashed a storm of arrows.
An overwhelming volley poured down from above, raking through the enemy ranks. The damage was real enough — but still—
There are just too many of them…!
An army of over twenty thousand. Not all of them had massed at the eastern gate, of course — but even divided, the numbers were crushing. No amount of archery could hold them back forever. That much was painfully obvious.
And worse still—
In the distance, catapults began to hurl their stones, one after another.
BOOM!
A colossal crash tore through the air, drowning out even the soldiers' battle cries as it slammed into Luna's eardrums.
They were losing.
If Swen hadn't prioritized the wall repairs, the gates might already have been breached. The thought alone sent a chill through her.
Swen…!
He had told her a ceasefire was their only path forward. How he meant to secure one, she still didn't fully understand — but Luna trusted him. He was the first comrade who had believed in her enough to join her cause. Her first strategist.
Please… I'll hold on as long as I can. Just… as fast as you can…!
Below the walls, the stage shifted once more.
Tifa stood before the gate, axe raised high from the saddle of her horse, and roared at her soldiers.
"Listen up! Hit the catapults first! Got it?!"
"UOOOOOHHH!!!"
As if determined to prove every hour of training had been worth it, Tifa's troops charged the enemy with ferocious courage. The disparity in numbers was glaring, yet their morale refused to break — for at their head rode their great general herself.
"Come at me all at once, you little bastards!"
Tifa swung her axe with wild, effortless precision, carving through Brans soldiers. She was cutting them down faster than the arrows raining from the walls above, and a ripple of unease began to spread through the enemy ranks.
"W-What the hell is that monster…?!"
"She's coming this way!"
Airen, quick to sense the crumbling formation, assessed the situation at once. Ahead, a female general was carving through her troops with an axe.
Oh?
Even for a minor power, they had someone worth noticing.
Airen raised her voice to her soldiers.
"Everyone, fall back!"
At her command, the fighting briefly stilled. Then she rode forward at a measured pace.
"My name is Airen Juliette. And yours?"
"Why the hell would I tell you, huh?!"
Tifa leveled her axe-blade at Airen.
"If you wanna fight, quit the fancy talk and come at me already!"
To anyone who prized chivalry, the words would have been pure insolence — but Airen seemed rather taken with the response. She laughed low in her throat.
"A wild one, aren't you? I like people like you. But!"
CLANG!
Axe met greatsword with a crash that seemed to devour the air itself.
"Friends with that much raw spirit tend to die young. And that, I find truly regrettable!"
"You talk too damn much! Come on, you bitch!"
CLANG!
They exchanged several blows. That alone was enough for each to take the other's measure.
And it was Tifa who felt the first jolt of alarm.
…She's strong. This woman!
The knight Airen. Tifa had heard the name, of course. But she was the type who trusted only what she saw and felt for herself. The rumors spoke of brilliance in siege warfare — nothing more — so she had assumed Airen's personal combat ability was nothing special.
A few exchanges later, the truth was plain.
She could not win. Not against this woman.
Damn it!
But then again — if you started measuring everything that way, how was Lunarien's army ever supposed to stand against a power like Brans?
Besides, that scrawny pretty-boy strategist had said it himself. He would secure a ceasefire, no matter what.
So—
Hold. I just have to hold here!
CLANG!
"Why not put a little more heart into it? Otherwise, you might actually die."
Tifa bit down on her lip and shouted back.
"The only head hitting the dirt is gonna be yours! Come on, you bastard!"
"Haaah!"
The only one who could reverse this battle was Swen, their strategist. Hold until he returned with results — that was all that mattered. With that single thought burning in her mind, Tifa kept slamming her axe against an opponent she could not defeat.
I rode hard, as fast as the horse would carry me.
Had I only needed to reach Kihara Castle — where I'd stayed before joining Lunarien's army — I could have made it in a day. But Lin Brans, the sovereign herself, resided farther still, at Anel Castle.
One day. Two. Snatching sleep in the saddle, I somehow managed to arrive.
Do I just… walk up to the palace?
In the game, you hit the "Diplomacy" button, pressed "Execute," and you were immediately granted an audience with the enemy ruler. Trying to actually meet a sovereign in person turned out to be considerably more complicated.
"Halt!"
I hadn't even gotten past the gate.
"Who the hell are you?"
…Will this work?
I couldn't touch the thirteen hundred gold I'd brought for diplomacy. Digging into my personal purse, I produced thirty gold.
Thirty out of my remaining hundred and thirty was a painful cut — but if I couldn't get inside, Lunarien's army would fall. What choice did I have?
"I'm no suspicious character. Perhaps this might… smooth things over?"
"…Hmm. Fine. You may enter. Go on!"
It worked. I'd half expected it would. Garand Eternity Saga itself had no such mechanic, but another strategy game from the same developer let you bribe gate guards exactly like this.
Either way, I was inside Anel Castle.
Whoa.
The moment I stepped through, the vista before me stole my breath. It looked like something out of a fantasy game's teaser trailer — a true metropolis — and for the first time, I truly felt that I had crossed into another world. Until now, the only cities I'd seen were modest Kihara Castle and the half-ruined backwater of Zeiland.
The sheer number of people thronging the streets was on another scale entirely. The reputation of the greatest castle in the central continent was no exaggeration.
No time to gawk.
I immediately searched for what looked like the royal palace. Finding it was easy enough — at the center of the city rose a fortress with a tower so unmistakably regal that only a sovereign could live there.
Has to be that one. Let's go.
I ran toward it.
After the hassle at the outer gate, I'd worried that meeting the sovereign herself would be equally difficult. Fortunately, it wasn't. A light body search, two soldiers glued to my sides like watchdogs — but as long as I could see the ruler, I would have endured it a dozen times over. Better that than some absurd condition that wasted more precious hours.
Damn.
The interior of Anel's royal palace was opulent beyond measure. The furnishings looked ruinously expensive, and the decorations radiated such simultaneous pressure and grandeur that I felt thoroughly diminished just standing among them. Zeiland's so-called palace was little more than a brick sitting room by comparison.
In the game, every castle's interior shared the same design, so I'd never noticed. Looking at it now, the disparity felt far more realistic. Then again — this was reality. Worrying about verisimilitude was almost funny.
Big corporations really do have it better.
How long did I walk under the soldiers' escort?
"Wait here."
One of the guards flanking me stepped forward, opened a door, and disappeared inside. A short while later—
"You may enter."
Good. At last — an audience with the sovereign.
Recalling the dialogue from the game, I steadied my faintly racing heart and stepped through.
The door opened, and I set foot on the corridor leading to Anel's audience chamber.
A long red carpet stretched ahead. On either side stood figures who looked to be generals of the Brans Army, arrayed in ranks. Their eyes fixed on me as one — enough to cow most people.
No reason for me to flinch.
I had come to forge a treaty that was guaranteed to succeed. I was the one holding all the cards. They would accept my terms. No other outcome was possible — not when a man with Intelligence 100 had calculated it so.
I walked forward without bothering to hide that confidence, step by deliberate step, until I stood before the doors of the audience chamber itself.
Inside: the sovereign, the envoy — me — two guards to watch my every move, and the sovereign's strategist. That was all. This chamber was my true battlefield, the place where a messenger's war was won or lost.
Feeling every bit the away team walking into the home stadium, I slowly pushed the doors open.
They closed behind me.
And there she was — a woman seated upon the throne with an air of languid boredom.
Long, straight blue hair. Eyes the same vivid blue. A face of refined, aristocratic beauty. She was jewel-bright, yes — but "pretty" alone could never capture the aura rolling off her. It made sense. That small, exquisite woman had climbed over both of her older brothers to claim the absolute pinnacle of the Brans Army.
The Lin Brans I remembered from the game had been little more than a blue-haired woman. Her portrait was rendered in crude pixels; even calling her beautiful hadn't quite landed.
In person, there was no room for doubt. She was born to rule. You could see it at a glance — she would never tolerate standing beneath anyone.
The first female sovereign I had met since my own lord, Lunarien Iniang.
Lin Brans looked at me and smiled faintly.
No one beside her…
No strategist? A few names came to mind for Brans's advisors. Perhaps there were special circumstances. Or maybe a messenger from a minor power simply wasn't worth the trouble of calling one in.
Either way, I would make the most of the situation I'd been given.
I knelt slowly. Then I spoke the words I had seen dozens of times in the game.
"I have come today bearing a message from our sovereign, Lady Lunarien."
Lin Brans let out a soft, amused little laugh, then answered in a low voice.
"My, my♡ Such a pretty face — and yet you walk straight into an enemy nation as an envoy. You've got more backbone than you look, don't you?"
The words were openly dismissive, but I didn't rise to them. If I let myself get rattled by every jab in a place like this, I might as well quit being a strategist.
"Very well. I'll hear you out."
I slowly raised my head.
The fate of Lunarien's army rested on my shoulders. Now it was time to put my silver tongue to work.
Don't flinch. It's fine. I have a mind rated at Intelligence 100.
"I would like to offer you a proposal so sweet, you simply won't be able to refuse."
"Oh? A sweet proposal. Now you've got my attention. What is it?"
I smiled with the shameless confidence of a salesman peddling a once-in-a-lifetime deal, and spoke as boldly as I could.
"Thirteen hundred gold. In exchange — enter into a ceasefire with our army."