The Northern War Council
The war council of the North had begun.
"The flank forces must be pulled back to the rear."
"And leave Dondra exposed? If Dondra falls, our supply lines go with it."
Whatever grumbling they'd been doing before was gone now — the generals threw themselves into the discussion with grim, unwavering seriousness.
With a massive map spread across the round table, they moved chess-like pieces back and forth, debating with fierce intensity.
Simon, for his part, found it a crowd he could hardly cut into.
He lacked expertise in army logistics, winter provisioning, and northern geography, and the soldiers' jargon flew past him in such a dense thicket that he could barely follow. So he simply sat beside the Grand Duke, nodding along.
"We strike the First!"
"No, you crush the Second first, I'm telling you."
Though the finer details were buried under an avalanche of slang and military terminology, here is what Simon managed to piece together.
Among the Northern God's undead existed beings known as the Three Brothers.
Each was a monstrously powerful Named Undead, and for centuries they had reigned as the living terror of the North. All three were Hive entities who had received their share of command authority over the undead from the Northern God itself — and unless all three were destroyed, any advance toward the Northern God's territory was impossible.
And the Grand Duke had spent a very, very long time preparing to take them down.
"As you all know, the Northern God is a cunning beast. It has spent ages measuring the reach of my arrows."
Quill in hand, she drew a wide circle around Bilkenos, the northern capital, on the map.
"It has sent Named Undead into the outer regions — sent them to die on my arrowheads, if need be — solely to recalculate my range again and again. Whenever it judged that I had aged, or grown stronger, it would dispatch another Named to the very same spot. And the reason it is so obsessed with measuring my technique is—"
Tap.
She set the quill down, the corner of her mouth curling upward.
"To make certain the First of the Three Brothers never takes one of my arrows. But I, too, have been drawing my own picture all this while."
This time she lifted a quill dipped in red ink and drew a second circle — one far larger than the black one she'd drawn first.
"This is the true range of my arrows."
Information the Northern God did not possess.
The Grand Duke had poured years of time and effort into surpassing the creature's expectations of her. The Northern God was underestimating her strength.
Wielded well, this could become the decisive blow.
Tap.
She gathered up the chess pieces sprawled outside the map and placed them, one by one, in crisp succession.
"Per the original plan, we lure out the Three Brothers and destroy them first. Grand General."
"Yes, Grand Duke!"
Ganiro, the second most powerful figure in the North, bowed his head.
"The army you lead will march to the northwest. Take as many of the North's finest warriors and knights as you wish."
"Yes, ma'am!"
Having placed a white bishop on the map, she raised a white king next.
"The Second Legion, under my command, advances due north."
Tak.
She set the king down, then pushed both king and bishop northward together.
"The Northern God's response to this is obvious."
She moved a black knight.
"It will send the First toward the Grand General's front, and against me it will deploy the Second — the one immune to my arrows."
The generals nodded along. Simon rose from his seat as well, studying the map.
"Naturally, the Northern God will permit the First to fight only beyond the reach of my bow. It will allow pursuit, but only so far."
A red-bearded general turned his head.
"As it stands, this follows the same pattern as every previous campaign. Do you have a concrete plan, Grand Duke?"
"I do. Our target is the First."
she declared.
"Once I have pinned the Second down with the Second Legion—"
She took hold of the white king and slid it slowly to the right.
"—I ride for the First. The cunning old god will sense my dark energy vanish, and at the right moment it will order the First to retreat. But I—"
She stopped the king.
"—can shoot and hit from far, far beyond the distance it believes possible. Your task is to have the knights plant a flag upon the First's brow, on my signal, no matter what it takes. And then—"
Her lips curled.
"—the First dies."
The generals muttered among themselves, hands pressed to their chins. At that moment, the Grand General Ganiro's eyes sharpened.
"But Grand Duke — this plan has one glaring hole."
"Speak it."
"Throwing every soldier in the North at the First and Second is all well and good, but—"
Slam!
He snatched the black rook waiting outside the territory's borders and dropped it onto the map.
"What of the Third?"
"……"
"Strip away the generals, the knights, the Second Legion — and there is no army left to defend the homeland. The Third, guarding the northeast, will immediately drive its undead south."
Swooosh—
The black rook slid deep into the territory.
"At full speed, within two days."
Tap.
The rook toppled the flag of the castle at the very heart of the North.
"Even Bilkenos itself would be in danger."
Cough—
The generals wore frozen expressions, low groans rippling through the room.
"He does have a point. The Third won't sit still."
"And its undead horde is every bit as massive as the First's or Second's."
Hearing this, the Grand Duke bared her teeth in a grin.
"Worry not about the Third! For I hold a trump card."
"Surely that trump card isn't…"
Every general's gaze turned to Simon. Simon could only offer an awkward smile.
"Clean out your ears and listen well. The one who entrusted this young man to me is Nephthys of Kizen herself."
The Grand Duke raised a hand and thoroughly ruffled Simon's hair.
"And she did not hand him over for free, mind you. The North paid its price."
"And that price would be…?"
Her teeth split into a sly grin.
"Twenty thousand undead. Nephthys has promised a large-scale undead force."
"OOOOOOOH!"
The generals leapt from their seats with a thunderous cheer.
'What on earth are they talking about?!'
Simon stared at the Grand Duke in open shock. She shot him a sly wink that said, leave it to me.
"Well, to be fair, this boy is a side benefit. It seems Kizen and the Dark Alliance have concluded they can no longer sit idle while the Northern God festers up here. A massive force is coming soon. And that, too, is information the god does not possess."
The Grand General Ganiro spoke with a puzzled frown.
"But legionifying that many undead would take considerable time…"
"Naturally, they arrive under a hive system. Legionify only a handful of hive entities, and the rest of the rabble obey my commands on their own. And should you feel dark energy from the undead unlike mine — do not be alarmed."
The generals broke into applause.
"Magnificent!"
"The Dark Alliance serves us better than our own motherland of Kalross ever did! They would never abandon the North!"
The Grand Duke drew a new chess piece from her pocket.
"Nephthys's forces will arrive within three days at the latest."
Bang!
A red chess piece — neither white nor black — slammed down in front of the black rook.
"With this hidden force, we drag the Third deep into the territory and crush it there. If all goes well, we eliminate not only the First but the Second and the Third as well. No — we must eliminate them."
"As expected of the Grand Duke!"
"I hereby declare it."
She thrust her arm out.
"We sever a feud centuries in the making. Within two weeks, we destroy the Three Brothers, enter the Abyss where the Northern God dwells, and cast the thing out."
The generals' eyes went wide. Gathering every piece on the board, she swept all of them into the pitch-black circle at the northernmost edge of the Frost Field.
One general spoke up.
"I approve of taking the Three Brothers, but marching all the way in to destroy the Northern God itself — isn't that too hasty? Once we've secured a favorable footing, we could take our time and—"
"No."
The Grand Duke's voice was ice.
"Hear me well. There is no opportunity except in the immediate aftermath of felling the Three Brothers. Wait any longer, and we might have to wait another few centuries."
The Ancient Undead Northern God could not summon undead stronger than the Three Brothers at will — the limits of its own willpower bound it.
But if the Three Brothers were destroyed, the god could produce replacements of roughly their caliber within a matter of months.
"Furthermore, the Northern God divided command of its forces among the Three Brothers. The moment they fall, every undead outside the god's direct control will fall into command chaos. That is the moment we strike."
The Grand Duke rose from her seat.
"To repeat: within two weeks, the North will destroy the Northern God and put an end to this endless war."
CLANG!
CLANG!
By the Grand Duke's command, the march was decided. Every general in the hall raised their weapon.
"For the liberation of the North!"
Even for an outsider like Simon, it had been a meeting that set the blood boiling.
For the first time, he felt he was carrying some small measure of responsibility for the North itself.
The generals filed out to prepare for war, while Simon and the Grand Duke returned to her office.
THUD! CLATTER!
The moment she stepped into her own quarters, she hurled her armor aside and changed back into embarrassingly comfortable clothes, then sprawled out lazily across the sofa.
"G-Grand Duke?"
"What is it."
Simon pointed at himself.
"The Third of the Three Brothers — don't tell me that's…"
"Right you are. I smoothed things over with talk, but naturally the Third is yours to handle."
She stretched her arms across the back of her chair and chuckled.
"He's the weakest of the three brothers. Afraid of a foe who keeps five Ancient Undead-class entities? Legion Commander of the Seventh."
"I'm not afraid. It's just…"
Simon scratched his head.
"You trusting me this much caught me a little off guard."
All through the Legion Commander classes, she'd been too busy smacking him around and calling him a blockhead at every turn — and yet here she was, entrusting him with nothing less than the fate of Bilkenos, her own home.
And above all, there was the matter of those two weeks.
That was exactly how long Simon would be staying in the North.
"Still dense as ever, I see. It isn't you I trust."
"I'm sorry?"
She tapped her own forehead.
"I trust myself — the teacher who's been instructing you. By the time this decisive battle comes, I will have beaten you into someone useful enough to spend."
Simon burst out laughing.
"In that case, I look forward to your instruction."
"Yes, yes, then—"
Her eyes suddenly sharpened mid-sentence. Out of habit, she drew her bow and strode to the window.
By now Simon was thoroughly used to these scenes. Condensing her dark energy into an arrow, she called out.
"Godric! Window twelve—"
BANG!
Before the butler Godric could even arrive, Simon yanked open one of the office windows with a strand of Cloud and grinned.
"Twelve is this one, right?"
The corner of her mouth lifted, and she took aim. The moment she loosed the gale-wreathed arrow, she glanced back at Simon and said, teasingly.
"Turning a blockhead's head into a sharp one — my teaching must be truly extraordinary."
Simon fired right back with a grin of his own.
"How about taking a professorship at Kizen someday?"
"Once the North is at peace and my mission is fulfilled, perhaps I will. Come outside."
She slung the bow over her shoulder and beckoned.
"Within two weeks, I'll forge you into a proper Legion Commander."
The two of them walked outside together, and began, first of all, by discussing Geheim.
Simon explained the strange power Erzebet had unleashed in the instant before the Grand Duke's arrow could strike him.
"Would that be Erzebet's Geheim?"
Simon asked.
"It may well be — or it may simply be that undead's innate ability. Has it manifested since then?"
"No, sir. We've tried together a few times, but it's failed every time."
A mischievous smile crossed her lips.
"If you want, I could fire one more at you."
"I'll pass, thank you."
His abdomen still throbbed with a dull ache. Before long, the two of them came to a stop.
"Now then — we agreed you'd consult me on one Ancient Undead's Geheim per day, didn't we? Are you bringing out that Erzebet creature today?"
Erzebet had already received a major hint yesterday, so Simon intended to build on that. Instead, he spoke into the gray ring on his finger.
"Come on through here, Prince."
He opened a subspace and drew out a single zombie. The moment Simon pressed the ring against it—
GRUUUUMBLE!
A jet-black bolt of lightning crashed down and lodged itself in the zombie's body. The massive dark energy swelled outward as though inflating, warping the zombie's form until it reshaped into a small, boyish figure.
[Cap! Tain!]
A child-zombie in a crisp little noble's outfit appeared, striking a pose with his palm shading his brow. At the sight of him, the Grand Duke let out an intrigued "Hoo."
"A fascinating Ancient Undead. Powerful, by the look of him — though I take it that body isn't his true one?"
"Your eye is as sharp as ever."
Simon explained Prince in full.
"A crown that commands every zombie in the world — while his immobile true body sits in Deathland, letting him descend into any zombie regardless of distance. And on top of that, nine lives?"
Wonderment rippled across her face.
"The strangest Ancient Undead I have ever laid eyes on."
[The most special Ancient Undead, you mean! More! Keep the praise coming!]
Prince folded his arms and preened smugly. The Grand Duke pointed at him with her index finger and looked at Simon.
"I've just had an idea for this undead's Geheim."
"Really?"
"Well — Geheim or not, it would be a technique guaranteed to succeed. It might well become the strongest technique in your entire legion someday."
Simon and Prince's eyes lit up at the same time.
"What is it?"
[What is it! What is it!]
She bared her teeth in a grin.
"What else? We blow this fellow up with Corpse Explosion."