The Turam Brothers
Some sixty soldiers of the Silver Eagle Legion, four hundred private troops from the Hardwin fief, the supreme commander Gruon, and Bagan’s companions stood before the northern gate of Hardwin. Thick darkness blanketed the land, keeping residents indoors, so the only souls disturbing the quiet of the estate were them.
After confirming every face, Gruon gave a silent hand signal in his capacity as overall commander. With a heavy rattle and groan, the pulley-operated gate swung wide. He had chosen a simple gesture rather than shouts that might wake people in the dead of night.
The first to step out was the First Strike Team led by Vidar. Hardwin’s private soldiers, who would fight alongside them, followed close behind. Next came the Third Strike Team and their attached troops. Bagan, Gruon, and Daphne moved in the middle of the column, while the Fifth Strike Team brought up the rear.
Once every soldier had passed through the northern gate, the pulley creaked again and the massive doors thudded shut. Some of the Hardwin troops stared back at the sealed gate with wistful expressions, as though it would not reopen until victory was won. Whether they returned triumphant or not, the simple act of marching out had already changed something inside them.
Hundreds of shadows glided through the night, cloaked in darkness so complete the march was eerily silent. The road was not harsh; on the contrary, it was impeccably maintained. The army advanced without the slightest hindrance. While the Hardwin soldiers might take such smooth paths for granted, the Silver Eagle Legion—whose training usually involved mountain marches—found walking on flat ground almost luxurious. Envy for those who lived on such fine land was an added bonus.
The column pressed on without rest. Yet the journey was not entirely over easy ground. Eventually they reached an obstacle.
“What is this place?”
“Chimica Canyon. After so much flat terrain, its sudden appearance seems to have caught you off guard.”
“Are we really supposed to descend?”
Considering the long stretch of plains they had crossed, the canyon was surprisingly deep. It looked as if a mighty river had carved it long ago.
“Once we cross this canyon we will be inside the Turam Count’s domain. If we wish to keep our surprise attack hidden, we should wait here until full night before moving on.”
Gruon had been pondering how to conceal an army on open plains, but a canyon solved that problem neatly.
“The sun hasn’t even risen yet, yet the scale of this place…”
As Gruon noted, the canyon was truly immense; the path downward vanished into shadow.
“Still, there is only one route. Follow it and we reach the Turam lands. Not bad at all. Come, I will guide you.”
This time the Hardwin viscount took the lead. The descent proved treacherous; he wound back and forth many times before the trail finally opened into a surprisingly wide passage.
The five hundred soldiers moved comfortably along it. Even Bagan, who had never descended such a formation before, watched with open curiosity.
Then the Silver Eagle Legion at the front began to murmur.
“Monsters. Eyes forward.”
“Shields up. Await orders.”
The column halted at once. Hardwin, overseeing the march, quickly assessed the situation and reported to Gruon.
“They spotted eyes like an animal’s glinting in the dark.”
“Monsters living here? What do you intend to do?”
Monsters roamed the plains; it was only natural some would lair in a concealing canyon.
“Most likely scavengers. Timid things that feed on corpses. We can keep moving.”
Bagan knew the creatures well. In the lawless ruins of Palaron they were sometimes deliberately fed rotting carcasses to dispose of them. Though they had sharp teeth and moved on all fours, they were frail and never attacked living prey. A single dagger could dispatch any that grew bold.
“Is it truly safe?” Gruon asked, still concerned.
Bagan nodded. “No problem. The darkness simply made their eyes shine. They won’t touch anything alive.”
“Understood. Resume the march! And do not provoke them unnecessarily!”
Meanwhile, inside the Turam Count’s manor, voices were rising over a situation no one could understand.
“Father! Why are we not defending the border? To conquer the barbaric Seiros Kingdom, must we not first show them the true strength of Sog?”
The speaker was the eldest son, Julian Turam. Having graduated from Philadel Academy in the capital of Dabons, he was regarded as a first-rate swordsman fit to inherit the county. Such praise made his fiery spirit inevitable, and his overflowing zeal was something the Count had learned to tolerate.
“Brother, regardless, it is our lord father’s command. Our duty is to hold the territory and secure the rear supply line, is it not?”
This calmer voice belonged to the second son, Darian Turam, only a year younger. He too had graduated with distinction and was seen as a promising talent. His steady nature often helped restrain Julian’s hotter temper.
At last the silent Count spoke.
“Did you believe the world so simple? If I must spell it out, this land is also a border. Tempo Kingdom, Dubrak, and Elven Terra are all watching for an opening. Where exactly do you think you are going? Try to emulate even half of Darian’s wisdom. You know our role perfectly well.”
“Isn’t that mere sophistry? The nation currently at war is Seiros! The chivalrous Tempo Kingdom will not interfere, and both orcs and elves are isolationist. That is precisely why Turam lands are called peaceful!”
Julian’s eloquence matched his father’s as he raised his voice. In truth, his argument held no flaw. It also explained why the noble faction had long ignored them. Even during the previous war with Seiros they had stubbornly insisted on guarding supply routes, ultimately doing nothing while the conflict ended. They had offered neither supplies nor troops. In short, they had looked after themselves and no one else.
Thus the other noble houses expected little from House Turam this time either. Simply remaining steadfast would be enough to earn gratitude.
“If you want to go so badly, then go alone! I have no soldiers to give you!”
The Count clicked his tongue, wondering when his eldest would finally mature. Burning with anger, Julian stormed from the room, slamming the door so hard the walls shook.
Darian, who had watched him leave, spoke carefully while gauging his father’s mood.
“Please do not be too angry, Father. Brother acts only for the future honor of House Turam. Honestly, is he wrong? A territory as strong as ours could repel any invader, yet we fail to use that strength. His frustration is understandable.”
“Yes… hearing you say it, I suppose that is true. Darian, you must support your brother well. The boy leaps before he looks.”
“Of course.”
With those words Darian also left the Count’s study. He headed straight for the place he knew Julian would be when his heart felt stifled—the eastern outer wall.
“Brother.”
Sure enough, Julian stood atop the rampart, letting the wind wash over him as he stared into the distance.
“Ah, you came?”
He greeted Darian with words alone, never turning his head. The two brothers had always come to this spot to speak when they needed to mend their bond. Darian stepped beside him and leaned against the parapet.
From the wall one could see vast plains stretching out, a dense forest of unknowable depth on one side, and on the other an earthy plain that seemed its exact opposite.
“Brother, that forest leads to Elven Terra, and that plain continues on to Dubrak, correct?”
“Yes. Why bring up something so obvious?”
“I simply find it hard to believe this is truly a border. A fief located on the frontier, yet it has never seen a proper war—let alone a single battle.”
“Hmph. So even you feel the itch.”
Julian assumed his brother had come because he, too, longed to fight. But Darian’s answer was different.
“Yet I wonder whether a land where battles occur without end can truly be called good. That is why I prefer peace.”
“You came all this way just to say that?”
Julian’s already foul mood darkened further; he thought Darian was trying to soothe him with empty words.
“No. I only mean that Father understands our position. He has never tried to do more or less than required. If we simply carry out what is given to us, everything will be fine. Why struggle to force something else?”
“Then what exactly are you trying to tell me? If you mean to push that strange philosophy on me, spare your breath. I will never bend.”
“Haha, I already told you. Live according to what you are given. It all depends on how you choose to see it—what you have truly been given.”
Darian was offering his brother a choice. Leaving now would be right, and no one would stop him. Yet staying was also a valid path.
After several long seconds leaning against the wall with his chin in his hand, Julian finally spoke.
“You are right. I should live within my station.”
He still felt uneasy about raising his voice to their father. Therefore he chose to remain.
“I must apologize to Father.”
At his brother’s decision, Darian smiled warmly.
“I simply respect whatever choice you make.”
“Look at you, knowing how to say such things.”
The two turned to head back inside. At that moment—
“Enemy attack!!”
An urgent cry rang out from the opposite wall. Their eyes met.
“Grab your sword, quickly.”
“Yes, brother.”
Without time to understand the situation, the pair rushed to arm themselves.
The combined forces of Seiros Kingdom and the orthodox faction support troops waited inside the canyon until full darkness before emerging onto Turam land. Though the long march should have left them exhausted, the electric tension of impending battle kept fatigue at bay.
When countless torches suddenly bloomed across the darkened plain, the entire Turam household fell into chaos. The wildly dancing flames proved it beyond doubt.
“Advance as planned!”
“Advance!!”
Receiving Gruon’s order, Daphne shouted the command. Here her newly awakened trait revealed itself. Her voice, infused with holy power, lifted the soldiers’ morale to even greater heights. Their abilities would rise as well, letting them carve through the enemy without hindrance.
“Hold the gate!!”
The defenders fought desperately to keep the gates from falling. For a surprise attack, their reaction was commendably swift. Yet all their effort was rendered meaningless.
Because Gruon had asked Bagan for help.
Bagan walked straight up to the firmly shut gate and raised one hand.
Mass Gravity
A crushing rumble shook the air as gravity magic slammed the gate downward. The doors were pulverized beyond recognition. Both enemy and ally stared in shock, yet an open gate was still an open gate.
“Charge!!”
Regaining her composure, Daphne gave the order. The soldiers surged through the shattered entrance.