Defeat (1)

Had I gone mad?

My entire body throbbed. The wounds had not even begun to close, yet somehow I found myself moving as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

An advance?

I had turned toward the outside world only to prove my own worth. At the very least, so that I could be the one to choose the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠members of the special operations unit. So that Lediche might gain more power.

I had cut down two barbarian scouting parties alone, but I doubted I could do it again even if ordered to. More importantly, I had never even faced those who had slain Baron Köln and massacred his knights in a single stroke—the ones who set their blades aflame.

I dragged my staggering body toward the tent, only to find Lediche already shouting in frantic urgency. Rubiru, still far from recovered, stood beside her, pleading as she relived that day’s events.

“You have to stop the advance, Lord Lois.”

“…A-among the barbarians there were mages, and those who wielded mana as well. W-we can’t!”

Lois Kellingan looked at Lediche and Rubiru, then let out a short, derisive laugh.

“What, are you afraid I’ll steal all the glory?”

“This isn’t about glory! We could all die!”

“Die? Who’s going to die? The private soldier of the Rueshatia young master single-handedly crushed two scouting squads, didn’t he?”

He thought in an entirely different direction. He understood everything in an entirely different way. The epaulets on his shoulders, earned through his standing in the kingdom, seemed almost laughable.

“Gentlemen, are you weaker than Special Operations Captain Riel standing back there?”

The knights behind Lois wore the insignia that marked them as members of the Royal Knight Order. Even as a bastard, he still carried the blood of the family head, so of course men like these had been assigned as his escort. Belonging to the Royal Knight Order meant they were different from the knights I had subdued. It meant they could handle mana—and that, while not Masters, they possessed skill approaching the Expert rank.

“…We are not.”

“Lediche. No—Young Master of Rueshatia. They say they are not. If your private soldier cut down two squads, then our knights can easily smash five. Two of our knights may have fallen, but that was only because they did not use mana. Do not question my judgment.”

Lois seemed to place absolute trust in the knights at his back. As if he no longer even remembered how, only a short while ago, he had begged them to protect him, he shoved past Lediche and strode away.

“Rueshatia will guard the garrison.”

And with that, he excluded us from the battle. As he brushed past me, he shot me a glance laced with something like jealousy, then smirked. I stared blankly after Lois before walking over to Lediche and Rubiru.

Anger burned in Lediche’s eyes. A measure of fear sat in Rubiru’s. Yet neither of them voiced any objection to Lois’s command.

Everyone must have still doubted my skill. Even after watching their own knights shattered, even after trembling until the moment I returned, they still believed that a scouting party wiped out by some mere child represented the full strength of the barbarians.

“…Lediche, Rubiru. Come over here. They all want to die so badly—what can we do?”

I gathered the two of them and stepped aside. Whether the other nobles had been swayed by Lois or not, they set out with their private soldiers to expand the position. Next they would carve an advance route toward the place the barbarians had occupied… the place where Köln and everyone else had been slaughtered.

Rueshatia was a mercenary house. For mercenaries to become nobles, they inevitably had to take on work connected to the royal family. Even without asking, I knew that Köln himself had once belonged to the Royal Knight Order. Even those knights of Köln and Rueshatia had been butchered in a short span of time.

The barbarians set their swords ablaze and used magic. Holding a defensive line might be possible, but driving them out of ground they already held felt impossible.

A sigh escaped me, but there was nothing to be done.

Before any reward for “meritorious service” or the like could even arrive, Lois had already charged out.

And the nobles had followed him.

“…Do you really think they’re all going to die?”

Everyone except one—the coward who had left that petty note behind.

In the end, Viscount Hummel remained at the garrison with us. Across the vast encampment, the number of people we now had to protect had dwindled to a mere fifty or so.

…

Lois took to the front lines as if he were some great general. Many died, yet none from the Kellingan domain—Lois’s own house—perished. Using his rank, he dangled the bait of glory so that counts and lesser nobles charged first. A short while later he would send the knights and soldiers of the Kellingan domain to “rescue” them while cutting down barbarians. It was only natural, in a way.

In the end, the ones who died were the private soldiers and knights of the other nobles. Clearing the advance route and slaughtering the nearby barbarians fell solely to Kellingan’s troops.

Had they fought together from the start, none of this would have been necessary. The reason they did it this way was simple.

They needed to pile up merit.

They wanted to pile up merit.

When the other nobles were gasping for breath, only if the soldiers of Lois—the bastard, no, the youngest son of Marquis Kellingan—came to their aid could they still receive proper compensation even without earning glory of their own.

Whatever the case, at first they won victory after victory. Barbarians died so thoroughly that the earlier deaths of a few knights felt like a lie.

Of course they did.

The barbarians had always outnumbered them, but not now. The barbarians fled, only to be skewered on spears. Now and then a few knights fell to counterattacks, and conscripts died by the dozens more, yet the result was still victory, so morale soared to the heavens.

At some point the barbarians began simply running as if luring them on. Nobles blinded by glory advanced even without orders, widening the front. Lois did nothing to stop them. Soon enough, their achievements would become his own.

The battlefield shifted by the moment; men killed and were killed without pause. Strangely, the garrison remained peaceful.

I taught swordsmanship to Hummel’s private soldiers and knights, practiced with them. One of the knights claimed he could handle a little mana, so I spent time asking him about it. It was an uneasy situation, yet we who had been excluded could not disobey orders and join the fighting. And I knew that the moment those who set their blades aflame appeared from the barbarian camp, everyone would die—so I did not go to help.

The only hope, I thought, was that they might at least launch a surprise attack while the others advanced.

That was all.

I sat in the tent trading jokes with Rubiru, whose color had returned quite a bit, and shared worried talk with Lediche—talk of running if the others were defeated—when a soldier carefully called from outside the tent.

“…Lady Lediche, if you have any reply to send to the domain, you must write it by four days from now.”

A reply?

“Ah… yes. A-all right.”

Lediche glanced at me, then looked away.

“…Did you look into my family for me?”

She tried to avert her eyes again, then smiled.

“…Th-they’re doing well.”

“…R-really? H-how are they doing? Rhea? Ceria? Claudia? Are they all eating properly? Are they healthy? D-do they… miss me even a little…?”

“R-Riel—. Ask a little more slowly…. You have to give Lediche time to answer.”

At those words I forced myself to swallow the rest of my questions. An awkward silence hung for a moment before Lediche smiled the same smile as before.

“…They say they hope with all their hearts that Riel comes back alive. Everyone misses you more than is reasonable. I didn’t write to your family, so I never heard their answers, but….”

She calmly told me the words I had wanted to hear. The feelings that had grown a little hazy while living with Rubiru and Lediche. News of the people I had left without even a proper farewell when I departed for the battlefield.

Rhea would still be dreaming of becoming a magician. Ceria would become a sister, and I hoped Claudia was managing to brush her own tail properly.

Wait for me.

They’re only hoping I come back alive.

I miss them. I want to hold them in some peaceful place, to live together the way we used to.

Thud—.

Emotions I had forgotten—emotions I had pretended never existed—seemed to flood over me. I had brought the picture with me, yet I had never looked at it for fear that missing them would become too much to bear. Without thinking, I drew out the picture whose colors had bled until even the shapes were blurred, the corners browned with blood, and stared at it.

My trembling fingers stroked the surface. From beside me came the sound of sniffling. Rubiru was crying. Lediche was crying too.

It was hardly the time to ask for favors when everyone was already in tears.

But if a letter could be sent, I wanted to write even one for each of them. I did not know whether I would return alive, yet instead of a farewell I wanted to tell them I would come back, so please wait.

“…I want to write a reply. N-no. I-I want to send even a greeting—.”

Before Lediche could answer, I walked to the desk and scratched out a letter. Truthfully, I had claimed I never thought of them, but from the first day I saw Rubiru I had thought of everyone constantly. Because I had always thought of them, there was no hesitation when I wrote.

I pressed the letter into Lediche’s hands with trembling fingers. She nodded, took it, and returned to her own tent. Feeling embarrassed that we had all cried together, I stepped outside the tent and sank down onto the ground. Hummel’s knights, with whom I had grown fairly close, looked at me and burst into hearty laughter, saying I finally looked my age.

For some reason, from inside Lediche’s tent came the sound of someone crying even harder than I had, so the teasing did not last long. Reading the knights’ expressions, I wiped my tears and entered Lediche’s tent.

Startled, she hurriedly hid something. It looked like a letter. If it was a letter, it surely contained news of Rhea, Ceria, and Claudia.

I said I wanted to see it, but she answered that family business was written there as well so she could not show me. I simply gave up. Lediche had already been considerate enough of me. Wanting her to cry a little less, I stepped close, gently pulled her head toward me, and held her.

“…I’m sorry, Riel.”

Lediche said she was sorry. From her came the smell of something burned.

…

Scritch—, scrape—, scratch—.

The eerie sound of flesh being torn and scored. No one stopped her. No one scolded her or offered love. For the few months after she had been adopted into the baronial house, Rhea had attended the academy and studied diligently, just as Riel had wished.

She no longer went to the academy.

She simply sat in the dark of the lodging the adoptive family had generously provided near the academy—

Scritch—, scrape—, scratch—.

—and carved at her own body.

“…Riel—, I’m sorry—.”

Rhea had wanted to become a magician. Because she had hoped Riel would achieve his dream, and because she had believed that only as a magician could she go to the battlefield and save him.

But the sponsorship money had stopped.

Cronian had said that as long as the money kept coming, Riel was still alive.

So this meant—

Riel—

was dead.

“…Hic, hhk—, hi, hihi.”

Rhea cried, and laughed. The pain felt like punishment. Only now did she realize that every time she should have been the one to hurt, Riel had hurt in her place instead.

Even years of saying “I love you” would not have been enough, yet she had told him she hated him and let him leave without a farewell—and he had gone to the battlefield and died. Achieving her dream, attending the academy… all of it had been bought with Riel’s life.

“…If I die… Riel…. Will I be able to be with you?”

Rhea punished herself. Even after hearing that if she stopped attending the academy she would be sold off in a political marriage to men who fell for her beautiful face, she decided that spending her whole life receiving punishment, hurting, and eventually dying was the fate that suited her.

Scrape—, scratch—.

With the hairpin Riel had bought her, she carved her body over and over again.

…

Prayer meant nothing.

Come to think of it, it had been the same when Sister Flora died. She had prayed again and again for Riel to be saved, for him to return safely.

Ceria opened the hand that had been clutching the cross and let it drop to the floor with a soft thud. Unaware that her knees were scraped raw and bleeding, she sank onto the cold stone and stared blankly into empty air. Rain or snow or clouds covering the sky—none of it had mattered when she and Riel had watched the stars from Sister Flora’s room.

Now it seemed nothing was visible at all.

The moment the sponsorship money stopped, the moment ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠she deduced that Riel was dead, Ceria’s faith snapped as well.

If God truly existed, she wanted to do the thing He would hate most, right in front of Him. Ceria looked at the cross Sister Flora had bought for her, let out a short laugh, tore the Bible apart, burned it in the candle flame, and scattered the gray ash everywhere.

If Riel could not return, what meaning was there in becoming a sister? If Riel would not look at her, what use was living kindly? She had only wanted to become a sister because Riel had respected Sister Flora.

Ceria stared at her reflection in the mirror. The neat figure in a sister’s habit. The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠appearance she had cultivated because she thought Riel would like it, because she wanted to look pretty for him.

“…Disgusting.”

If becoming a sister was the price of Riel’s death—

She hated it.

She truly hated it.

“…I curse You now. I curse the barbarians who killed Riel too. I hope they all burn to death.”

Even through the revulsion, Ceria knelt again. Having abandoned her faith, she poured out curses upon God. Then, with empty eyes, she laughed like a madwoman.

…

The wolf-beastkin spent her time in loneliness.

Born with the nature of a wolf, she would love only one person for her entire life, just like a wolf.

The wish to become a pretty wife, a mother, and raise a child—even while remembering the father and mother who had abandoned her, the wish to live the way they had—had been the only dream she realized while looking at Riel.

But now the dream was broken.

The dream could never come true. Claudia found herself brushing her tail without thinking, then looked into the mirror.

Fur that seemed to shine pure white, brushed full and neat. Ears and tail—the utterly useless appearance Riel had once praised as pretty—and the foolish wolf-beastkin girl were crying.

She had gained a family, but they were not real family. Even while she cried, they hesitated to approach because she was a wolf-beastkin. Claudia imagined Riel, who had always stayed by her side, and then remembered why he had left.

It began—

with Riel going to the guild.

It was all my fault.

Because I was worthless. Because I was a wolf-beastkin, I got jealous for no reason and tore the clothes. Riel became obsessed with the academy because of me. Because I lived like a beast, following only my desires. I hurt Rhea, wounded Riel, never even apologized properly, and drove him off to the battlefield.

Claudia buried her face between her knees. Her shoulders shook. Her tail swayed and brushed against her skin.

Proof that she was a wolf-beastkin.

Because she was a wolf-beastkin, she had wanted to keep Riel all to herself. If she had been human, none of this would have happened.

“Bad, baaad…. Ba-d, hhk—, it’s bad…..”

Without realizing it, Claudia seized her own tail. Then she brought inside the food and the knife that were always left ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at the door because she could not eat with the others. She cleared everything else away and raised the knife.

“I-if I just cut it all off…. If I become an ordinary person…. Th-then Riel will come back. R-right…?”

Even though that could never be, Claudia tried to cut off her tail. Each time she did, she seemed to feel the praise that had always called it pretty and the warm touch of Riel’s hands brushing it. Only after she had pulled out fur and spilled a handful of blood did Claudia stop.

Now the tail alone was the memory she shared with Riel. She simply burrowed under the blankets, curled up, and closed her eyes. Even in a dream, she wanted to see him.

The blanket had grown thick and the bed soft, yet somehow it felt uncomfortable and cold.

…

Lediche could not bring herself to speak honestly of the contents her vassal had written without restraint. She could not hand false hope to a family already so broken.

Making them wait for Riel, who might die at any moment on a hopeless battlefield, would be torture. If he lived a little longer only to die for real, she did not know how much further they would shatter. Above all, she did not want to see Riel in pain.

Besides, Rubiru and Riel liked each other. It would not be good for either of them either.

Lediche read the letter, shed tears once more, then held the letter Riel had given her over the brightly burning candle and burned it. She told herself again and again that this was the right thing to do.

Just then, Riel returned to the tent. Lediche, unable to finish burning it in time, hid the letter.