Battle in the North (4)
I assessed the situation at once.
The soldiers we could still put to use numbered eight thousand. If we picked out those among the men just returned from battle who were still in decent shape, we could field another two thousand or so.
Ten thousand in total. Under ordinary circumstances that figure might not have been so hopeless—but the enemy was bearing down on us with a host of more than thirty thousand.
And this was no castle. It was a fortress. Its defenses were weaker than a proper stronghold's, which meant siege engines would bring it down far more quickly.
And they wanted us to dig in and hold?
Why?
And why, of all things, the instruction to take position where the enemy can see you?
If the prediction had come out that way, there had to be a reason. There always had been, every time before.
I would have liked the leisure to work through the possibilities carefully. But the others were already trading ideas of their own, searching for a way out, so it was more important not to lose the thread of the conversation.
"I still think a withdrawal would be best."
Miguel nodded at Park's words.
"Hmm… and our lord's authorization?"
"We've already sent a messenger. By the calendar, a courier carrying further orders should be arriving any time now, but…"
"What did you report?"
"The defeat, the news that General Kalintz has been taken prisoner, and that our remaining strength is so thin we may soon face an invasion."
"…So the question is whether we wait for the messenger, or act on our own."
Miguel had barely finished turning the problem over when, as if on cue, a soldier stepped into the council chamber.
A bright red armband was tied around his upper arm.
Exactly the man we needed—a messenger.
"Messenger, just arrived! A dispatch from our lord, Lady Lin Brans!"
"Ah! Speak of the tiger and he appears—well timed. Well then, what does our lord command?"
"…Here it is."
The soldier, looking a little tense, handed over a sheet of paper covered in Lin's handwriting.
Miguel took it and read. His expression darkened by degrees.
"Ah… General Miguel. What does it say?"
"Hmm… hah."
Without answering Park, Miguel made a sour sound, then looked at the messenger.
"Is this certain?"
"…Yes. It matches what I heard from our lord with my own ears."
Every face in the room turned toward Miguel, all of them asking the same silent question: What on earth does it say?
Miguel was silent for a long time. Then, carefully, he opened his heavy mouth.
"…Our lord has ordered us to hold the fortress."
"Th-that…! Ah. Perhaps she's sending reinforcements…?"
Miguel gave a slow nod at Park's words.
"They've… departed from Anel Castle, it says."
"Pardon…? Anel Castle…?"
Even a force leaving from Kelstein Castle would have been cutting it close. If they were setting out from Anel Castle, there was simply no way to hold this fortress against Serpina's army.
What is that woman thinking?
Unless she meant for all of us to fight until we were captured or killed, there was no reason to issue an order like this.
And then Miguel answered my unspoken question sooner than I expected.
"…However."
His voice was bleak.
"Certain officers are to be reassigned to new duties. Upon receiving word, they are to leave the fortress at once, proceed to their posts, and take up their assignments there."
"What?"
…Don't tell me.
My worst suspicion took shape before my eyes.
"…Miguel Brown, Park, Lilia, Jayden. Those four to Kelstein Castle. And Jack, Silin, Swen. Those three are to return to Anel Castle and take up new duties… so she has ordered."
"…!!"
"The remaining officers… are to defend the fortress until the reinforcements arrive. She says she looks forward to their meritorious service…"
Only then did everyone understand why Miguel had stumbled over his words. Every gaze in the room fixed on the one person who had not been named.
Airen Juliette.
Lin was trying, in this world-line as in every other, to snuff out the flame of her life.
Turn the clock back a little—to the moment Park's messenger reached Lin.
"Kalintz Brans… has been taken prisoner by Ian's army…?"
The messenger could only bow his head under Lin's wide-eyed stare, unable to answer.
No… but why…?
It was not long before she learned the full truth of the battle.
The rebellion at Cherien Castle. Ian's army raising its banners. A reckless engagement with thirty-five thousand men.
Even without her strategist Parfalle, she could see why such a reckless battle had been fought.
Her brother had judged it… worth a try.
Because she had reinforced him with ten thousand troops?
That idiot… my little brother…!
Ever since his defeat by Lunarien's forces, he had been fretting to distinguish himself—and now he had finally blundered into disaster.
She had trusted him as a reliable general and given him full authority to act without her leave. In truth he had always been far more dependable than the impetuous Chel. And yet, seeing the reinforcements, he had misjudged.
If she had only sent more men, Kalintz might truly have taken Cherien Castle. Striking a castle of Serpina's army and striking a fledgling force that had only just risen were two very different things.
Then the Brans Army would have planted its sky-blue banner in the north—the goal it had dreamed of for so long.
And as that thought formed, a face flashed through her mind.
The man who had insisted, We should send the troops—Swen's face.
"…!!!"
Lin's eyes went wide.
It was the same as last time.
He had been right.
Impossible…!
And he had not even argued for defense. He had said they should gather as many troops as possible and attack the north.
A chill ran through her entire body.
This feeling was not new.
She had felt something like it the first time she met Swen when he came as an envoy—and again when the messenger arrived announcing Serpina's invasion.
He had known in advance that Serpina's army would strike the Brans Army.
And this time he had foreseen a rebellion at Cherien Castle?
Swen… how… how did you know it would turn out like this?
But the chance was already gone.
No—her half-measure had made things worse. If she had sent no troops at all, even Kalintz in his impatience would never have overreached.
The reason she had neither fully reinforced nor fully withheld was painfully simple.
Because Airen Juliette—the first to insist that troops must be sent north—had irritated her.
So this was her fault…?
…No. It's not my fault…!
Airen Juliette.
That name was raking her temper again.
To Lin, she had always been a woman hard to trust. If she had to put a finger on it—she had disliked her since childhood, back when her father was still alive.
In a situation like this, admitting her own mistake was more than the pride of a woman who had crushed her inferior brothers and finally claimed the throne would allow.
And the simple fact that ignoring Airen's counsel had cost them the chance was violently shaking her composure.
…Fine. If you were right, then prove it.
Her rage-filled mind raced toward another skewed conclusion.
Why else had she refused to listen to Swen—the man she herself had gone out of her way to recruit?
It was all because of Airen, wasn't it?
If she had not been the one to raise the argument, the debate would never have been cut short, and the outcome would have been different.
Therefore—the one who should answer for this was not herself, but the woman who had spoken first.
It was a thoroughly self-serving thought. But an absolute sovereign sometimes stood in a place where self-serving thoughts were simply forgiven.
No—before that: who would dare presume to forgive or condemn her?
She would send reinforcements, of course. But the only troops she could deploy at once were the capital garrison, so that could not be helped.
And remarkably, once she had shifted the blame, her heart felt lighter than she expected.
Then, from somewhere she could no longer place, Airen's voice rose in her memory.
"My lord. Trust me just this once. I will surely win glory."
Glory, was it.
Very well—she would give her exactly what she asked for.
Go on, then. Win your glory, Airen. Prove it wasn't just talk.
Lin's lips curved as she thought it.
In the Brans Army, falling out of the sovereign's favor was as good as a death sentence.
It was Airen who broke the silence no one else dared to touch.
"Understood. I, Airen Juliette, will obey our lord's command."
"General Airen…"
"Until the reinforcements arrive, I will give this body entirely and hold this fortress without fail."
A fortress Kalintz had thrown up in his haste for glory—hardly a strategic prize from the Brans Army's point of view. And yet, to the lord who was driving her into that death trap to defend it, she swore her loyalty as she always had.
It would have been the same every time.
In every world-line, Airen would have been this foolish, doing whatever she was told—and if she somehow survived, her head would still have rolled at her lord's hand in the end.
"All of you, leave the fortress as quickly as you can. It will soon become dangerous."
"…"
Miguel looked at her face and could find nothing to say.
Airen seemed to understand. She smiled.
"Do not worry. I took up the sword for Lady Lin. Until this body burns away, I will only serve my lord."
"…"
Miguel surely knew how Airen was treated in the Brans Army. But there was nothing he could do. He did not have the strength to twist the vast will of Lin that was pushing Airen out.
But—
I can.
I felt, by instinct, that my chance had come.
The prediction delivered by a mind of Intelligence 100:
Take position where the enemy can see you, then hold the fort.
I still had no idea why that prediction had appeared. But one thing was certain.
If we held as instructed, we would win this battle.
Absolutely.
And I was confident I could twist Lin's tenacious, venomous will.
"…Then I leave it to you."
"Understood. If I may—I would like to spend some time tending the wounded. May I take my leave first?"
"Do so."
"Then."
With that, Airen slowly left the council chamber.
Silence settled over the room again. Only then did I raise my hand.
"I have something to say."
"…An opinion?"
Miguel, looking worn, turned the question on me.
Strange. Even in a situation like this, I felt no anxiety at all. No anger, either. If anything, it felt as though a burden—the need to persuade someone—had been lifted from my shoulders.
Airen would not die here.
Her lord had driven her into a death trap, but ironically, this place was no death trap at all.
Because the absolute answer was already clear in my mind.
I opened my mouth slowly.
"I will remain here."
"What?"
Miguel stared at Swen in open astonishment, then recovered his composure and asked,
"…Forgive me, but may I have your name?"
"Swen."
"Ah. Swen. One of the officers who arrived with General Airen not long ago, I take it. At any rate… you mean to stay?"
"I mean to help General Airen hold out."
"What?"
At Swen's words the quiet chamber stirred at once. Miguel could not help being shaken.
Stay and fight?
Call it holding out if you like—anyone who had drawn Brans pay long enough could see the truth. Their lord, Lin Brans, was driving Airen into a death trap.
That she was out of favor with Lin was common knowledge among long-serving officers of the Brans Army. Sending reinforcements from Anel Castle rather than Kelstein Castle was itself a problem—a performance for the remaining officers: We did all we could.
Not many would be simple enough to fall for it, but doing it and not doing it were still very different things.
And yet, seeing all that, he still wanted to stay and help her?
"Well… yes, a man might want to fight for our army. But you… do you understand?"
Miguel's face was grave.
"Our lord has summoned you. Refusing is the same as disobeying her command. This is a matter that comes before any patriotism of yours."
"But this fortress was built under Lord Kalintz's personal command, was it not? Precisely because of that, I would rather fight to the end than abandon it."
"Hah…"
Beside Miguel, Park turned the matter over in his own way.
Come to think of it… that man used to speak well of Kalintz.
If Park had been a little sharper, he might have noticed that Swen had put Kalintz in the dangerous vanguard in Airen's place. But he was not that kind of man. So he simplified the situation.
He's trying to catch Kalintz's coattails.
Kalintz Brans. Prisoner or not, he would almost certainly not die. Executing him outright might have its uses, but Ian's army would fear the consequences too much to do it. Even if Serpina's forces retook Cherien Castle and took custody of the prisoners, using him as a diplomatic bargaining chip would be far wiser—so for all that he was a captive, the odds of his surviving were high.
There was also a real chance he might escape in the chaos.
If a man meant to serve the Brans Army for any length of time, hitching himself to Kalintz's back rather than to the hard-to-please Lin or the somewhat tyrannical Chel seemed a rather shrewd choice. If Kalintz returned alive, everything this Swen did here would move his heart.
So he's throwing his life on the line for advancement.
The odds were thin, but if word of this got out, he would race up the ranks with Kalintz as a solid patron. Young new officers of that age sometimes showed that kind of spirit in the name of success.
Park himself was already too old; self-preservation mattered more. Perhaps that was why he felt like helping the young newcomer do as he pleased. If the result was death, that was a problem the man would have to bear himself.
Of course, every last bit of that was Park's misunderstanding.
"General Miguel. I think we should let him do as he wishes."
"What…?"
"Even if they are departing from Anel Castle, reinforcements are coming—that much is fact. And General Airen is extremely capable. He is not offering some other reason; he says he wants to fight for our army. Who knows? A miracle might happen."
"…"
Miguel considered Park's words for a moment, then remembered how little time they had left.
Yes. From his position, he could not keep fretting forever over a moth flinging itself into a blaze.
"…Very well. I will do what I can to convey your intent to our lord."
Yes.
That was what I had wanted to hear.
I bowed at the waist and answered.
"I will be sure to send you good news."
"Mm. I'll be counting on it."
He did not sound as though he expected much—but he would be surprised.
This fortress would not fall. That much was certain.
One way or another, the water was already spilled. Now was the time to do the one thing only I could do.
Let's go.
Airen Juliette.
To keep the flame of her life from going out.