The Grand Duke's Lesson
On his second day in the North, Simon rode out to war alongside the Grand Duke.
Their objective was to intercept an undead force advancing on Bilkenos. Before long, an undead army composed of zombie monsters from the northern wastes came into view.
"This is your mission."
Just before the battle began, the Grand Duke spoke, her entire body clad in black full plate armor.
"Win a battle using a single type of undead, and nothing else. If you cannot manage even that much, you have no right to be here."
Simon answered readily.
"Just watch me."
And so the battle began.
Simon's choice was the Corpse Spider unit, which he hadn't commanded in a long while. Neither Erzebet nor Simon himself would take the field—victory had to come from command alone, wiping out the enemy forces without ever lifting a blade.
At first, it was awkward.
Until now, he had always entrusted the command of each unit to his Ancient Undead while he himself wore Pier and fought at the vanguard, swinging the Greatsword of Ruin.
But commanding troops from the rear...
Alright, advance slowly!
Things he had never noticed before began to come into focus.
How the undead actually received his orders when he gave them. How far the troops could move, and where the reach of his commands ended.
It wasn't simply a matter of barking "fight!" and crashing his forces headlong into the enemy.
More efficiently.
More tactically.
Simon had chosen the Corpse Spiders for this battle because of the terrain. The surroundings were forest, so he made full use of the trees. He sent the larger spiders to the front to physically block the zombies' movements, while the rest climbed the trees and descended from above to ambush them.
Every time the Corpse Spiders swung down along their webs like pendulums to strike at the zombies, the enemy's numbers dropped sharply.
Keep the pressure on from both flanks!
Any undead that slipped through here would fall squarely on the northern civilians. He couldn't let a single one escape.
He deployed a reserve unit at the rear to seal off the flanks, ordering them to fire the web technique, Web, to wall off any gaps.
Little by little, he was building a feel for it.
Zombies, he learned, would not kill or push through their own kind ahead of them—they simply stalled in place. So Simon bound groups of zombies together with webs to create walls, gradually shrinking the territory the enemy held.
But.
Gah!
The mental shock of having his own undead destroyed—of having a connection forcibly severed—was something he just couldn't adapt to.
Issuing orders was exhausting enough on its own, and the fatigue from every destroyed unit piled on top of it until his mind grew hazy.
I have to keep the ones up front alive!
Setting aside his fraying nerves, the number of Corpse Spiders he'd brought north wasn't infinite either. With major battles still to come, he wanted to preserve every unit he could spare.
Simon poured his focus into controlling the spiders on the front line.
Fire webs from their legs to block them—yes, like that! Climb the trees, dodge as much as...
Wham!
Impact crashed into the back of his head, and Simon pitched face-first into the dirt. His concentration shattered in an instant, his mind blinding white.
He turned to look behind him.
It wasn't an enemy attack. The Grand Duke, still mounted, was holding up her scabbard. From within her helm, a chilling light burned in her eyes.
"Snap out of it, you fool."
"Grand Duke! What in the—!"
"Look to your right flank."
Simon's eyes snapped to the right at once. Northern zombies were pouring through the loosened encirclement on the right in a surging tide.
"In trying to spare a handful of your soldiers, you lost the whole board," she said. "Too many peaceful days at that school of yours have bred cheap habits in you. Who told you to fight like a mere necromancer?"
!
Simon felt as though a current of electricity had shot down his spine.
"Scrabbling about to make clever use of a few dozen undead—that is the way of an ordinary necromancer, nothing more. We are Legion Commanders!"
The Grand Duke raised her sword and took command. Her Phantom Dullahans galloped out on their death steeds, cutting down the escaped zombies and covering Simon's blunder.
"A Legion Commander must always read the greater flow of battle. When you cling to the few, the many bleed for it. Look at the big picture! If a unit is doomed to die, do not force a rescue—let it die. Think instead of what damage its death can buy on the other side of the field!"
As Simon pushed himself up, strength flooded back into his eyes.
She's right.
He focused once more.
He let the front line be pushed back. The difference in weight class between spiders and zombies was simply an unavoidable problem.
Instead—
Lure them deep, then surround them!
The spiders swallowed the zombies that pushed deep into their lines, encircling them fiercely and beginning to annihilate them.
The Corpse Spiders had their webs. He made aggressive use of the immobilization effect—snaring the zombies in silk so they couldn't move at all.
The zombies would stall and freeze. But the Corpse Spiders could ride their webs through the air and strike from above.
The best defense is a good offense. Before he knew it, the front line that had been buckling had found its footing.
"Utter dolt. You never listen until you've made a mistake first."
Even in the thick of it, he could hear the Grand Duke clucking her tongue—but there was no edge left in her voice now.
Time passed like that.
"Haaaah."
Simon succeeded in wiping out the enemy's entire force using nothing but Corpse Spiders. The moment the battle ended, he collapsed where he stood, gasping for breath.
I... I did it.
It felt different somehow from training at school. Above all, every time he'd commanded his legion before, he'd always had to be mindful of prying eyes.
But here in the North, things were different. The Grand Duke could move the undead across the entire northern territory, and even if people saw, he had only to say they were her undead forces.
Here, on this vast snow-covered plain, he could command his legion to his heart's content.
Thud.
Simon turned his head. A canteen had been dropped beside him.
"A barely passing grade. Replenish your fluids."
"Thank you!"
Simon twisted off the cap and gulped the water down.
With the battle over, he could see the Grand Duke removing her helm as well. The sight of her long, matted hair spilling down like a waterfall was striking every time he saw it.
"Doesn't even earn its keep, and eats like a starved hound. How long do you intend to sprawl there? Next battle."
The canteen dropped from Simon's hand with a thud.
"Y-you're joking, right?"
She grinned.
"I am not. Did I not tell you? I intend to work you to the bone."
That was how he fought two more battles with the Grand Duke before returning.
The next battle he resolved using only the zombie unit, and the one after that using only the Skullwings.
He already knew each type of undead's particular strengths, but applying them in real combat was another matter entirely. Thanks to that, Simon was able to hammer the distinct temperaments of his undead firmly into his mind.
"You absolute dolt! Your undead are slipping through the line!"
Whenever Simon made a mistake, the Grand Duke showed no mercy.
She smacked him with her scabbard, hooked his leg and knocked him flat.
The characteristically brutal northern education would have cowed anyone.
"Ugh!"
But every time, Simon shook himself off and rose without the slightest sign of distress, his eyes gleaming with focus. Beaten down again and again, he simply got back up and concentrated.
"Hah. The boy's head may be dull, but there's something in those eyes I rather like."
During training, the Grand Duke was a demon—but even she couldn't help acknowledging Simon's bearing.
By the time the surroundings had gone pitch black with night, every battle was over.
"Haaaah."
Simon was riding back, slumped in the saddle like a rag doll. The Grand Duke, helm removed, clicked her tongue.
"What could possibly wear a young one out like that? There is honor even in victory—sit your back straight."
Even as she said it, she was grinning playfully, thoroughly amused. Simon slowly straightened his upper body.
"You're as busy as ever."
Even while supervising him, the Grand Duke was constantly moving her undead forces scattered across the North or firing off orders in response to riders' requests for support.
She must have been working just as hard as Simon was, yet she showed no trace of fatigue. Monstrous stamina—and a truly astonishing will.
So this is what it takes to be a hero of humanity.
It was no exaggeration to say that this vast northern territory endured thanks to her existence alone.
"Curious."
The Grand Duke spoke up.
"Is there anything else you'd like to learn?"
"Hmm."
His body and mind were both exhausted, but at the word learn, Simon's eyes lit up again.
After a moment's thought, he spoke.
"Do you happen to know Magnus Alban, the 5th Legion Commander?"
She smirked.
"Know him? That insolent wretch."
Simon recalled his encounter with Magnus.
It was after the Pentamonium incident, during the hostage negotiation.
Simon had brought Zombie Butler, whom he'd captured at Pentamonium, while Magnus had brought Akemus, whom he held captive. The goal was to exchange the two Ancient Undead.
And at that moment, Magnus had said—
"Shall I share something with you, as your senior disciple? The true way to use an Ancient Undead."
Magnus did something to Zombie Butler, whom he held captive within Simon's own legion. He never laid a hand on him, and showed no sign of casting dark magic. And yet the webs and curse talismans binding Zombie Butler tore apart, freeing him—and his body swelled to the size of a giant.
An enhancement of an Ancient Undead.
Not only that—Zombie Butler had vomited a white liquid from his mouth, and from that liquid he raised elite soldiers, the Baekgwi, the White Ghosts. It was undeniably not an ability Zombie Butler had originally possessed.
"So that's what it was."
The Grand Duke, who had been listening quietly to Simon's account, spoke.
"It is a technique called Geheim, usable when a Legion Commander and an Ancient Undead fall into perfect accord. Consider it a trump card available only to the Ancient Undead of a legion."
There was a technique like that?! Simon's eyes sparkled.
"Then could you, Grand Duke—!"
"Of course. The Ancient Undead under my command can use it as well."
"Then—then could you teach it to me?"
She scrunched up her face with a scoff.
"Fine. Starting tomorrow, bring me one of your Ancient Undead at a time."
Nice!
Simon clenched his fist.
"But let me make this clear, lest that dull head of yours misunderstand. Geheim is not a technique I can teach you from beginning to end. What I can offer is analysis drawn from experience, and counsel. Nothing more."
A question mark floated over Simon's face.
"Is that because each Ancient Undead has its own distinct nature?"
"Well, well. Your thick skull finally turns over. Even more than that—when the Legion Commander changes, an Ancient Undead's Geheim changes with him. It is a technique that exists solely between you and your Ancient Undead. There is no room for a third party like me to intrude."
This meant that even among Legion Commanders of the 7th Legion, Simon's Geheim and Richard's would be different.
The corners of her mouth lifted.
"Getting to know one another, then—that is what matters most. You shall be very busy indeed while you're in my North."
Getting to know each other is what matters, huh.
It was a ticklish feeling—half grasped, half out of reach. Simon thought for a while, then lifted his head.
"Couldn't you give me some kind of hint?"
"I already told you to bring one tomorrow. Impatient, aren't you. Hmm, well."
She kneaded her stiff shoulder, falling into thought.
Then she spoke.
"Consider this: why do your Ancient Undead choose to follow you? That is where it all begins."
Simon sank deep into thought.
Why the Ancient Undead follow me.
Come to think of it, he remembered he was supposed to share a glass of wine with Erzebet tonight.
He decided to start with Erzebet first.