The Kingdom's Vanguard
Simon and the Grand Duke were galloping at full speed toward Bilkenos's south gate the moment the messenger delivered the news.
The Kingdom of Kalos sent an army? Of all times, while the Grand Duke's Ancient Undead is out of the castle...!
Cold sweat beaded on Simon's face as he bit his lip.
There's no need for anxiety, came the steady voice from within the Grand Duke's helmet, her glowing eyes calm beneath it.
They won't stir up trouble right away.
As they rode hard, a sight emerged in the distance: an army on the march. Through the gates flung wide open, a massive column of soldiers was still pouring into the city.
And on either side of the road, the people of the North had gathered in droves.
"Come crawling here again to scavenge whatever scraps you can find?"
"Get back to the South while I'm only telling you!"
The mood among the residents was razor-edged, anything but a welcome for the royal army. They looked ready to start hurling stones at any moment.
Warriors stood in the alleys with weapons already drawn, and archers perched on rooftops held arrows nocked to their bowstrings, waiting.
The air hummed with impending battle.
Truthfully, with the temperament of the northern folk, a fight would have broken out long ago—but the Grand Duke's orders held them in check.
"Hahahaha!"
And at the very front of the Kalos royal army—
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
—came a man perched atop a massive crab-shaped undead utterly unsuited to the climate. A carpet was spread across the hollow of its shell, and seated upon it was a purple-haired man with both arms spread in imperious languor.
It looked like a king's royal procession. A parasol had been rigged overhead to block the sun, and a cocktail dangled in his hand.
CLANG! CLANG!
The crab's enormous claws thrust skyward, ringing out metallic crashes again and again. A few residents flinched and backed away, clearly threatened.
"The welcome party sure is feisty~"
He said it while slurping his cocktail through a straw, his dark pupils sweeping over the crowd.
"Rude to the heroes who've come to save the North, aren't they? Should I just tear them all to shreds?"
The officially recognized War Necromancer of the Kingdom of Kalos.
Chronos Stiltzchen.
"Calm yourself, Chronos."
Beside him rode a man leading the royal army with commanding presence. His hulking frame was sheathed head to toe in glittering, extravagantly ornate golden plate armor.
Dark skin, thick caterpillar eyebrows, and a heavy, blocky jawline that dominated his face.
"We came for peace. I will not tolerate wanton rampaging."
Commander of the Northeastern Front, Romario Sokun.
A royal army led by Commander Romario and War Necromancer Chronos had entered the heart of the North without spilling a drop of blood.
Then Chronos narrowed his eyes.
"So you've finally arrived. Hero of humanity."
Black full plate armor. A crimson cape bearing the emblem of the North. And an enormous bow.
There was no doubt about it.
The legendary Grand Duke of the North, Jean Arskalt.
Chronos licked his lips with a grin.
"I've wanted to meet you so, so badly. I've been a fan of yours for ages, Grand Duke!"
Doom-doom-doom-doom-doom!
At her appearance, generals emerged from every corner of the city trailing their troops behind them. Banner-bearers joined as well, waving the flags of the North.
The Grand Duke, riding alongside Simon, slowed her horse and gave the signal to halt. Commander Romario likewise raised a clenched fist behind him, signaling his own army to stop.
The two armies froze facing each other.
Simon stole a glance behind him. Every general glared with eyes wide in barely contained fury, and the other banner-bearers and warriors stood ready for battle.
One spark from total war.
Clip-clop. Clip-clop.
The Grand Duke and Romario urged their horses toward one another.
"It has been a long time, Grand Duke."
Romario removed his helmet and offered a shallow bow.
Commander Romario.
The Grand Duke did not remove her helmet. Chin lifted, she radiated a grim, smoldering gaze.
Marching an army into the North without a single word of warning or report—do you intend for us to kill you where you stand?
"I'm afraid I don't follow."
Romario replied with perfect composure.
"Were you not the ones who requested reinforcements? We merely answered the call."
Reinforcements, you say?
The face beneath the helmet twisted savagely. When she turned her head, Simon could see Butler Godric frantically crossing his arms into an X.
She was silent a moment, thinking, then spoke.
Reinforcements—surely you don't mean the ones requested two years ago?
"Indeed. I beg your pardon for the delay. Moving an army is a grave undertaking, one requiring a great many procedures..."
"ROMARIOOOO!"
At that moment, a man burst from the Grand Duke's formation, striding forward with the fury of a volcano.
It was Ganiro, the Grand General of the North. His face had flushed dark red to the neck, as though he'd been personally insulted.
"Is pissing all that comes out of that vile mouth of yours! Every time that face of yours opens, my stomach turns inside out! I'll rip your guts out right now and stuff them between your teeth!"
Shing!
Ganiro drew his sword from his hip. Behind Romario, Chronos let out an amused chuckle and extended his index finger, a curse flickering and coiling at its tip.
Compose yourself, Ganiro.
The Grand Duke barred his arm with her own. Ganiro dared not push past the Grand Duke's arm, but his rage, once erupted, knew no brakes.
"You think I don't see through your little game! You think we only asked for help two years ago?! Five years ago! Seven years ago! Twenty years ago! Every time the North was truly in danger, you sat on your hands with excuse after excuse—so why would you suddenly come crawling here within two days?!"
Veins bulged along his throat.
"You heard the Three Brothers are dead, that's why! The Three Brothers are gone, the North is settling down, and now you come running to leech off the credit—do you think I can't see that scheming game of yours!"
Brutal glares from the northern people bore in from every direction.
"Get out of the North, now!"
"You rotten bastards!"
BOOOOOO!
Jeers and curses poured down like rain.
But—
"Refrain from speculation."
Romario didn't so much as blink.
"This army's campaign has been in preparation for six months. The Northern God is the enemy of the North, and the enemy of the North is the enemy of the Kingdom."
He pulled his reins, guiding his horse closer, and presented an imperial decree to the Grand Duke.
"A royal decree from His Majesty the King. His Majesty takes great interest in this expedition."
The Grand Duke took the decree and read it. With her face hidden behind the helmet, no expression showed.
Were they written up in advance?
Everything had moved exactly as planned. The royal family and nobles of Kalos had always regarded the North with wary eyes—the Grand Duke of the North, Jean Arskalt, was simply too formidable a figure, in both military might and influence.
For them, the ideal situation was the status quo. They wanted nothing more than for the hero of humanity, the 2nd Legion Commander, to stay chained to the Northern God and buried in the North indefinitely.
The Northern God's death, the North settling into peace, the Grand Duke turning her attention to the continent's center—that was the nobles' worst nightmare.
But the situation had shifted overnight. The Three Brothers propping up the Northern God were dead, and now the Grand Duke was preparing the final battle against it. And in that moment, the Kingdom had dispatched an army.
Their true aim is still unclear.
Even so, moving this fast was beyond expectation. The Three Brothers had only just died—this was too quick.
The Grand Duke set down the decree and spoke.
You called it reinforcement.
"That is so. We shall dedicate our lives to aiding the Northern Army, eradicating the Northern God, and liberating the North."
Then from this moment on, the royal army will follow my orders and nothing else.
Her eyes gleamed from within the helmet.
This was the North—and in the North, the Grand Duke's command outranked even the King of Kalos.
In the campaign against the Northern God, you will obey whatever harsh orders are given, no matter what. Will you swear it?
Romario nodded without a flicker of hesitation.
"I swear it upon my name as Romario Sokun."
Hold your position.
She wheeled her horse around.
I will confer with my generals. You arrived without notice and will find no one to feed or house your troops—camp in the open ground nearby.
"We will be waiting."
* * *
The Grand Duke's council chamber quickly filled with the North's most prominent figures.
"Grand Duke! Why would you let them remain in Bilkenos?!"
"Ah, come now—surely you see the Grand Duke's deeper design. Lull them into complacency, then strike by night!"
"Whatever the case, we cannot simply leave outsiders be!"
The chamber dissolved into total chaos.
The Grand Duke sat with a hand pressed to her aching forehead, lost in thought. Simon watched her with concern.
"Grand Duke."
"I'm fine."
She lifted her head and looked around at the assembled generals.
"I have a question for you all."
Every mouth fell silent as all eyes turned to her.
"Who is our true enemy?"
"The Northern God!"
"Exactly."
She rapped the armrest of her chair with the knuckle of her gauntlet.
"Emotions are driving many of you to call for their heads, but those twenty thousand are merely the vanguard. However thoroughly we crush them, the Kingdom's main force comes next. Fifty thousand, then a hundred thousand—we'd be fighting them on and on."
She laced her fingers together.
"This is our golden opportunity to end centuries of blood feud and erase the Northern God once and for all. We cannot afford to have it derailed by the royal army."
"But Grand Duke!"
Grand General Ganiro, who had raged harder than anyone at the royal army's arrival, surged to his feet.
"Have you forgotten? The central government has always looked on us like a thorn in their eye!"
The nobles of Kalos feared the Grand Duke of the North far more than the Northern God, who had faded into a distant legend.
It was no accident that Jean Arskalt was called the hero of humanity. Among the people, her popularity surpassed even the King's—there were even those who argued she should be king.
If the Northern God vanished, her stock would soar higher still.
"There's some scheme at work here, no question about it! And so—"
"—which is precisely why I made them swear to follow my orders alone."
The Grand Duke rested her chin on her hand.
"Striking them now would be the worst move. We'd be fighting the entire Kingdom before ever facing the Northern God. But they rushed here so hastily that they failed to secure proper political grounds. That leaves them no choice but to obey my commands—and I intend to bleed their forces as dry as I can in the battle with the Northern God."
"Then what happens after we take the Northern God?!"
One general, unable to contain himself, shouted out.
"We're the ones who slew the Three Brothers and seized this opportunity! Even if we capture the Northern God, these outsiders will demand rights to the Frost Field! They'll want to carve up the credit! I'd bet anything that Count put them up to summoning the army! The very notion of splitting the Frost Field with them—!"
At that moment, the Grand Duke raised her fist high.
CRASH!
A single blow split the round table down the middle. Every general shut his mouth at once.
"You fools."
Her eyes turned a freezing, blade-cold blue.
"You're already worrying about what comes after the Northern God is taken."
The sound of nervous gulping echoed around the chamber.
"Your enemy is an undead that has tormented the North for over a thousand years. That reinforcements have arrived may prove a blessing. Even joining hands with them, we may find ourselves short of the strength needed to take it down."
She rose from her seat.
"Waste no thought on needless things. Right now, think only of how to use these reinforcements—and how to kill the Northern God."
* * *
The meeting ultimately broke up having accomplished nothing but chaos.
No conclusion had been reached; it seemed another council would convene tomorrow.
What a mess. Honestly.
Simon was walking back to the inn where he was lodging.
I thought all we had to do was kill the Northern God and the undead, and that would be that. But there are too many tangled interests.
The Count. And now the Kingdom of Kalos as well.
His fellow humans were more terrifying than the man-eating undead right in front of his eyes.
Taking his time, letting the wind cool his face, Simon eventually reached the inn.
The door swung open—and the dining hall that should have been bustling with the usual evening crowd was utterly deserted. Simon turned his head.
Exactly two men sat at a table, eating.
"Oh, hey! Fancy meeting you here."
The man with tattoos visible on his neck and wrists waved cheerfully.
"I'm Chronos. Your senior, basically!"
The dark-skinned man beside him lifted his head.
"I am Romario, Front Commander. Might I have a word?"
Simon smiled thinly to himself.
Why is everyone so desperate to get their hooks into me?