The Blood of the North
Just as Simon and Serne had planned, the Grand Duke led Hate and the Phantom Dullahans out of the Abyss ahead of the rest.
"The Grand Duke has returned!"
The Northern warriors fighting outside the Abyss surged toward her like storm clouds the moment they spotted her. Grand General Ganiro, one of his arms blackened to the very shoulder, stepped forward as well.
"Grand Duke! Thank the gods you're safe!"
[Yes.]
"The Northern God! What of the Northern God?"
"Did you finish it?"
The warriors stood poised, arms half-raised, ready to erupt into cheers at any moment.
Seeing their faces made the Grand Duke's heart ache. She was grateful, at least, that her helmet hid her expression.
[The Northern God was not in the Abyss.]
The warriors' faces hardened in an instant.
[We fell into a trap. This campaign ends here. Retreat.]
She turned her head away. Her crimson cape billowed grandly in the wind, then settled in bleak stillness.
The soldiers could not bring themselves to believe it, their eyes refusing to accept reality.
"What... what are you saying?"
Ganiro's lips trembled.
"The Northern God wasn't there? Then who's controlling those undead? Something is definitely out there! We have to find it! Even if I have to scour the Frost Field until I freeze to death—!"
[The Fourth is attacking Bilkenos.]
At those single words, Ganiro and the enraged warriors froze mid-breath.
[The people are in danger. Hate and I will ride ahead at speed, so do not worry overmuch, Grand General Ganiro.]
"...Yes, Grand Duke."
[You will take responsibility for the troops and return them safely to Bilkenos.]
She pulled hard on her steed's reins and set off first. Hate and the Phantom Dullahans of the 2nd Legion fell in behind her in perfect unison.
[There must be no more sacrifices. Every soldier is to return home alive. The Northern God will without question send forces to strike our backs as we withdraw — steel your hearts.]
Ganiro bowed his head low, his face carved from stone. All across the field, warriors drove their weapons into the snow and collapsed where they stood. Screams and wails burst out everywhere, like the death throes of something still struggling against the end.
Defeat.
Once again, they had failed to take the Northern God. Once again, vengeance had slipped from their grasp. Their generation would not be the one to end it. They had failed to bequeath a peaceful world to their children.
Everyone's anguish echoed out across the frozen plain like a funeral bell.
Grit—
Riding hard for Bilkenos, the Grand Duke pressed her helmet down deep over her brow.
I'm sorry.
She could not tell her despairing subordinates the truth — that Simon and the 7th Legion were at this very moment preparing to drive a blade into the Northern God's heart.
To deceive the enemy, one must first deceive one's own.
The Northern God had to believe the Northern Army had accepted defeat and was retreating. Only then, flushed with the certainty of victory, would it commit its forces to hunting down the withdrawing warriors.
Only this way could she buy Simon the time he needed.
[I leave it to you, son of Yona. No—]
She drew back her bowstring.
[Simon.]
Piercing through the cores of the Northern God's undead idling at the front, she rode onward.
She had to reach Bilkenos, and quickly.
That night.
The heart of the North — Bilkenos.
Chirr— chirr—
A night filled with the song of crickets in the grass.
The Fourth's assault, which had plunged the entire city into terror, ceased as darkness fell. There was no sign of the creature around the city walls; it seemed to have withdrawn to replenish its Jet-Black, at least for a while.
Dawn was approaching, and soldiers and citizens alike had collapsed where they stood, utterly spent.
Nobody's watching, right?
A middle-aged man with a bundle slung over his shoulder glanced furtively around atop the city wall.
"No guards here! Hurry up!"
He was a merchant who traveled between North and South trading hides. He'd brought his children, his wife and household, even acquaintances who'd clung to him begging to be taken along, all the way to the wall.
Slipping through a gap in the guards' line of sight, he dropped a rope over the wall and carefully climbed down with one arm wrapped around a child.
"Come down slowly! There's no rush, take your time!"
The people who'd come with him were climbing down the rope one by one. The man watched them from below and licked his lips.
Stay in Bilkenos and fight together? What, so we can all die like dogs?
The power the Fourth had displayed that very afternoon had been staggering.
Meanwhile, the one being capable of stopping it — the Grand Duke — was away fighting the Northern God in the Frost Field.
Defeating the Fourth with the forces remaining in Bilkenos was impossible. Even if victory echoed back from the Frost Field, Bilkenos would be wiped out by then. It was the simplest arithmetic imaginable.
Thankfully, the Fourth's attacks stopped once night fell. Maybe it went off to sleep or something. Lucky us.
Everyone who'd come fleeing with him made it down the wall. The man gestured for them to follow and took the lead.
I've got no loyalty worth dying like a dog for! Best of luck to you all.
What pride was he supposed to have, anyway?
True, he'd spent years preaching about pride to make his living in the North, doing everything a proper Northerner was supposed to do. But at his core, he was still a merchant.
The man led his people at a run.
There's a village just a little farther. From there we can take a coach south, and—
-AAAAAAHHH!
A scream.
Suddenly, a shriek like something being torn apart rang out behind them. He spun around to see a woman thrashing in midair.
As if the darkness itself had seized her.
What the—!
Slowly, the shape of a giant emerged from the dark.
A grotesquely swollen face and a short, pudgy body.
It was the very 'Fourth' that had terrorized Bilkenos. Jet-Black poured from its mouth, coalescing into a magic circle.
[Fle...eing... death.]
"U-uaaaagh!"
The people began to flee, screaming. The Fourth, having crushed a man like an insect with a careless flick of its finger, spread a black magic circle across the sky.
Straange, twisted projectiles began picking off the people one by one. Horrific screams echoed from beyond the city walls.
"G-guughk!"
The man rolled on the ground, clutching his leg, his face twisted in agony. A shard of black magic had buried itself in his thigh.
Heh.
The Fourth swept its gaze over the corpses around it, then waved its arm, spreading another magic circle across the bodies. The dead twitched and writhed, beginning to change.
No. No way.
The man scrambled backward.
The woman — drenched head to toe in her own blood — sprang up from the ground. The zombie stumbled forward, shambling toward him.
"W-wait! Honey! It's me! Me! Can't you hear me?"
Shaking like a leaf, the man forced a smile.
"W-we were going to go back South together, remember? Visit Blue Harbor? You remember! We made good money, so now we can—!"
Crunch!
The woman-zombie tore into the back of his neck.
Crunch! Crunch!
Smack. Smack.
Godric devoured a plump, juicy chicken leg to the bone, set the remains down on his plate, and dabbed his mouth with a handkerchief.
Weeks of worry had hollowed out his cheeks.
Whew—
This was the war council chamber of Bilkenos Castle.
Godric heaved a long sigh and gulped down some cold water.
"I apologize, honored guest. This is all we have fit to offer you."
"Oh, no! It's fine, really!"
At the center of the round table sat a girl with violet hair — the vampire, Camibarez. She smiled awkwardly.
"Um... is it really all right for me to sit here?"
The seat Camibarez occupied was the head of the round table.
It was the place normally reserved for the Grand Duke or the Grand General, now offered up to a guest. A far cry from her first arrival in the North, when she'd been greeted with cries of 'Another outsider?!'
"You have more than earned it."
Godric said, wiping his mouth.
"You are an outsider, Lady Camibarez, and yet you stood boldly against the enemy and offered to fight alongside us."
—If it means harming more people, then I will fight for the North, and for Simon!
"In those words, we felt true courage and pride. You have in fact fought harder than any warrior in this room, and saved countless lives besides."
Godric bowed his head with deep courtesy.
"As warden of Bilkenos's defense, I offer you my respect from the very depths of my heart."
The warriors around the table roared their agreement. The sight of grizzled men grinning through their bushy beards, teeth flashing, was almost comical.
"Th-thank you."
Camibarez ducked her head shyly. They're a bit rough around the edges and hot-blooded, but... they're not bad people at all.
"B-but... isn't anyone going to eat more?"
All they'd eaten was a single piece of bread and a bowl of thin, flavorless soup — and they'd finished even that within ten seconds of arriving.
The only real meal on the table was the chicken on her plate. Even Godric, the highest-ranking person present, had taken only a single drumstick from it.
Everything else was hers.
"Hahaha! We ate our fill back at the barracks before coming!"
"Don't you mind us, lass! Tuck in!"
"Just watchin' the little one eat fills me right up."
The warriors laughed, good-natured and simple. Camibarez fiddled with her fork, then cut off a small piece, ate it, and quickly spoke up.
"Ah — it was delicious! I'm full!"
She patted her tummy and slid the plate smoothly toward the warriors.
"I couldn't finish it all. If you don't mind, would you like the rest?"
One could see the warriors' eyes being dragged helplessly toward the plate.
"Ahem! Ahem! Well, if you're offering, it'd be rude to refuse!"
"No food should go to waste. I suppose I could manage just the one wing—"
"Gentlemen!"
Godric shot to his feet, aghast.
"Have you no shame?! This meal was set before an honored guest, and you dare!"
But.
The leftover chicken rose into the air. The warriors lunged like ravenous piranhas, and in the blink of an eye the dish was dismantled into dozens of pieces and devoured without a trace.
Only a few white bones clattered to the floor.
"Tsk, tsk."
Godric clicked his tongue in resigned disgust and sat back down. Camibarez simply beamed.
"Forgive them for the shameful display. Now then — let us resume the council on Bilkenos's defense."
Godric's face turned grave as he looked around the table.
"What now attacks Bilkenos is, without question, a Three Brothers-class undead. Whether the Northern God originally commanded a Fourth, or hastily created this one after losing all three of the Brothers, we cannot know. What matters is the reality before us: while the Grand Duke and the Northern Army are away in the Frost Field, one of the Three Brothers is laying siege to this city."
Godric rapped the table with his clenched fist, once, twice.
"Until the Grand Duke returns, we hold. By any means necessary."
The warriors nodded, faces grim and resolute. Camibarez flapped her little bat wings in agreement.
"And I'll fight my hardest until Simon comes back too!"
At her small, ringing declaration, the warriors' faces softened.
One girl had walked into the room, and the usual dour atmosphere of the war council had transformed entirely.
"We're mighty obliged! Now then, let's discuss the details."
Discussion flowed among the warriors, including a surprisingly concrete analysis of the Fourth.
"Thank the gods its physical abilities seem drastically weakened. It can't get over Bilkenos's walls. Can't even manage a proper jump, from what we've seen."
"A Three Brother that flinches at a few arrows! Never heard the like."
"In my read, it could clear the wall if it wanted to."
A young warrior grinned and turned his head.
"Problem is, it's too much of a coward. It's wary of someone inside these walls, I'd wager."
Every eye in the room turned to Camibarez. She tilted her head and fluttered her tiny wings, puzzled.
The vampire girl even the Fourth feared.
In particular, the full power she unleashed when her eyes turned blood-red struck terror even into warriors who had lived their entire lives in the world of war. It sent shivers down their spines.
She was no Kizen necromancer for nothing.
"The Fourth will stay cautious and careful."
Godric said, rising from his seat.
"Its body is weak, but it wields potent black magic. It's been raining that magic down on Bilkenos from the safety of the outside walls."
With that, he turned to gaze out the window.
A single afternoon of battle had reduced a full third of Bilkenos to rubble. They could not hold out much longer.
Once resistance thinned, the Fourth would finally set foot inside the city and strike at the keep where the Grand Duke's people sheltered.
And then it would all be over.
"Thankfully, the thing is a coward. We must press it with everything we have, keep it from ever crossing those walls."
"Aye!"
"Let's do it!"
The warriors raised their weapons, spirits lifting.
"Yes!"
Camibarez clasped her hands together and cried out in a bright, ringing voice.
Grrrowl—
Everyone's words died at once.
The sound of a stomach.
Every gaze converged on one spot.
"Ah... um...!"
It had come from Camibarez's stomach. Her face was steadily turning crimson.
"You graceless bastards!"
Godric finally erupted, springing to his feet with all the fury he'd been holding back.
"You stole the honored guest's food, and now you let your stomachs growl in front of her! Act like grown men! Grown men!"
The warriors bowed their heads again and again, like men begging forgiveness for mortal sins. Camibarez waved her arms in a flustered panic.
"N-no, it's not like that! It's not that I'm hungry, it's...!"
"?"
"Well, um... it's more like... uh..."
Tapping her index fingers together, her face grew redder and redder.
"I shall order the kitchens to prepare a fresh meal at once!"
"No, no! That's not it either!"
"You impossible men!"
BANG!!
Suddenly the council chamber doors burst open, and a crowd of women strode in.
The warriors' jaws dropped in shock.
"H-honey!"
"What are YOU doing here?!"
"Did I do something wrong today?!"
Watching their husbands bluster and flail, the women shot them looks of utter disdain. Godric turned to the newcomers.
"L-ladies, what brings you here...?"
"These blockheaded men of ours. Did none of you hear what the young lady said earlier?"
The women pushed in a cart.
Camibarez's eyes went wide.
"Blood...!"
It was a cart loaded with vessels of blood.
"You said you were a vampire, didn't you? The people in the shelters have been drawing a little at a time and saving it all up for you."
One of the women wheeled the cart up in front of Camibarez.
"We're Northerners too. We have our pride. Defending the North doesn't only mean what those men do — swinging weapons around and charging about."
The women, the children, the elderly, even the wounded lying on litters.
Each had brought a word of their own.
"Ye saved our boy. We're grateful, truly."
"Hang in there, Lady Necromancer!"
Camibarez's eyes went round, then brimmed over with tears of gratitude.
Being a half-vampire had always been the secret she most wanted to hide.
Being different from everyone else had always hurt.
Yet never before had everyone gathered together like this — for her, pooling their own blood, drop by drop, and carrying it to her door.
Watching her tremble and fight back tears, the people smiled warmly.
"Thank you. Thank you so much."
She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her uniform, and then broke into a smile as bright as sunlight.
"I — I'll drink this blood and fight even harder!"
"We're counting on you, lass!"
"Let's go! We can do this!"
Morale soared.
By the Northern God's original design, the people of the North were meant to despair before the Fourth's power and collapse from within, splitting apart like cracking stone.
But around Camibarez — a girl who had come to the North by pure chance — Bilkenos was binding itself together more tightly than it ever had before.