Interlude: The Regent and the Sergeant
"How's it been going lately?"
In answer to Jenesser's question, Amias shrugged and tightened the laces at the end of his chainmail sleeve.
"Same as always, I suppose."
"That sounds rough."
"Rough enough."
Amias let out a short laugh, as if it were nothing, and threw on his surcoat. Painted across the surcoat was a falling star streaking down between mountain valleys — the crest of House Anig.
"And how is the Baroness?"
"...I honestly couldn't say."
"Couldn't say?"
"No. It's been hard to get an audience with her."
He fastened the belt bearing his longsword, then picked up the halberd he'd left leaning in the corner, careful that its heavy blade didn't scrape the furniture as he carried it out of the house.
"Ever since the Baron took to his bed, I haven't seen her at all. Not for the last two days."
"Oh dear."
Jenesser, wrapped in a brown gown, pulled her collar close and wore a worried expression.
"...Take care of yourself."
Looking at her face, Amias drew his mouth up into a playful smirk.
"Why the long face? I'm not marching off to any battle. I'm just going to chat with the soldiers and stand around a bit."
"You know what I mean."
"Worry about yourself instead. Go to bed early once the sun sets, and get to church at dawn. I'll come fetch you in the morning."
After a brief kiss, Amias stepped out of the house.
Amias and Jenesser had found a home quite close to the lord's manor. It was a converted storefront, a little too spacious for just the two of them, and unlike the surrounding houses it was built of brick and finished with plaster — for a house in a rural fief, it had been downright expensive.
Of course, to Amias and Jenesser, twenty pieces of silver was hardly a fortune. They had that working under Phoenix to thank for it.
And yet, for all that they'd found a fine house in a fine location, the young couple had spent three weeks still unable to adjust to their new life.
The reason was the ominous current running through Longville of late...
Sergeant Amias arrived at the barracks around dusk. After a brief word with Training Master Chester, he took ten soldiers and made a full patrol around the palisade.
Thanks to the blood and sweat the fief's folk had poured into the work, the palisade that had collapsed during the war was more or less restored.
The gate would need more time to recover its former grandeur, but the wooden gate and gatehouse were enough to defend the fief for now.
Rain had fallen before dawn, and the earth beneath the palisade stakes had been washed away in quite a few spots. Thanks to that, Amias and his soldiers had to waste a good while shoveling dirt here and there.
By the time the soldiers atop the palisade lit their torches, Amias had reached the lord's manor.
"Sergeant Amias."
"Mm."
Two of the four guards at the manor's main gate saluted him. They were Longville soldiers, selected by Training Master Chester, and it was only natural that they show respect to a sergeant.
But the other two were not.
The two men who looked at Amias as if he were a barnyard chicken were mercenaries — men under Edwin, the late Baron Mallory's half-brother.
Amias regarded the two mercenaries with a displeased eye before rotating the watch. Two of the soldiers he'd brought took their posts before the main gate, while the two who had been guarding it joined his column.
The same process repeated itself once he entered the manor. Amias rotated the guards at the center of the courtyard, along the rear wall, and before the lord's bedchamber.
And wherever his soldiers stood watch, Edwin's mercenary underlings were always planted right beside them. ...Damn it all. What the hell is this farce supposed to be?
Edwin, standing in as half a lord in place of the old, ailing Baron Mallory, and his men strutting around as if they owned the fief. The sight of it was sickening beyond words.
Swallowing the curse down, Amias headed for his final destination, the great hall.
"Oh, there you are."
"Apologies for being late."
Guarding the hall's entrance were a middle-aged sergeant, two soldiers, and two mercenaries. The middle-aged sergeant, Paul, greeted Amias with a smile.
"Late? The sun's only just gone down."
"Is it? The walk took a while — we were doing some shoveling on the way."
"Hm? Shoveling?"
"The rain washed out the ground in a few spots. We stopped to fill them in."
"Ah, that? I was planning to deal with it on my way back."
"Shoveling by torchlight is a bother, after all."
"That it is."
Once the soldiers guarding the hall finished the rotation, the ten who had stood watch through the day prepared their torches at the brazier set inside the hall.
Paul, watching the men prepare to head back, happened to glance up at the halberd Amias was carrying.
"You do lug that thing around everywhere, don't you? Isn't it heavy?"
"...Not especially."
Amias shrugged, and Paul snorted a laugh.
"Ha! If I owned something that heavy and that expensive, I'd have it locked away at home. You're a strange one, all right."
Amias smiled quietly and looked up at the halberd. The straight spearhead and broad axe-blade gleamed with a keen edge, and a faint reddish sheen ran along the lacquered haft. Even at a glance, it was a remarkable weapon.
Amias remembered the moment he had come to possess this magical halberd.
"—Here."
"...Pardon?"
"What do you mean, 'pardon'? Take it."
"Why would you give this to—"
"Sergeants carry halberds. It's tradition."
"Tradition? What's that supposed—"
"...It just is. Anyway, take it, before your arm falls off."
"But, an enchanted weapon like this is far too much for a mere sergeant of a barony."
"Just shut up and take it. Might come in handy someday."
"Come in handy... how, exactly?"
"...Hah, beats me. But hurry up and take the damn thing. Do you want to catch a beating first?"
"Ugh — f-fine, I'll take it."
"Good. Then I'm off."
"Allow me to walk with you, at least. I'll see you out."
"Don't bother. What if you get on the Baron's bad side for no reason? You're the one who has to live here."
"Phoenix, I—"
"Oh, and, hmm — if you ever find yourself with a moment to spare, give Dionea a hand too."
"Dionea? You mean the Baroness?"
"That's the one."
"...Understood. I'll do so."
"What's with that grave expression all of a sudden."
"Anyway, I really am going now. Be happy."
After handing over the magical halberd, Phoenix bade him farewell with a wide, beaming grin — a thoroughly cheerful smile that suited his cold features not at all. Amias knew instinctively that he would never forget that smile for as long as he lived...
"Right, I'm off."
"...Ah, yes. Take care, sir."
"Will do. Good work."
Snapped back to the present by Paul's voice, Amias saw the returning soldiers off and took his post before the great hall. He leaned the halberd against his shoulder and stretched —
"Hyaawn—"
— when a sudden, out-of-place cry rang out from somewhere.
"Assassins—!"
A scream closer to a shriek. Realizing it had come from behind him, Amias flung open the hall's door in alarm.
"Kyaaah!"
In that instant, a figure came tumbling down the stairs inside the hall.
A woman in nothing but a thin dress, her entire body drenched in blood — it was the Baroness, Dionea!
"My lady!" Amias rushed toward her in shock.
"My lady! Are you all right?"
"I'm — I'm fine."
From a quick look, the Baroness seemed to have no obvious wounds. Amias hastily stripped off his surcoat and offered it to her, and Dionea clutched it to cover herself with trembling hands as she spoke.
"Edwin. Edwin — that man killed the Baron."
The words struck like a thunderbolt, and Amias's face went blank.
"...Pardon?"
"Rouse the soldiers! We must seize Edwin at once!"
Before the words had even faded, Edwin and two of his mercenaries appeared at the very stairs the Baroness had tumbled down.
"You — you bitch—"
Edwin had emerged with a blade in hand, blood streaming down from his lower back. Braced by one of his men, he let out a shrieking roar.
"That woman murdered my brother, Baron Mallory! Seize her this instant—!"
Beginning with the string of screams and shouts, the lord's manor erupted into chaos within moments.
The soldiers on watch, and even Sergeant Paul, who had just been leaving the courtyard, came sprinting back at the head of the returning troops. Edwin's men, scattered throughout the manor, drew their weapons and converged as well.
The Longville soldiers naturally clustered around the Baroness and Amias, while the mercenaries coalesced around Edwin.
Through it all, Dionea glared daggers at Edwin through her tears.
"Edwin, you wretched creature! To kill your own brother and then try to violate me — the Lord Himself will punish you!"
"You man-eating succubus! The shamelessness of you has no bottom!"
As the Baroness and Edwin shrieked curses at one another, the soldiers stood frozen in visible confusion, unable to move either way.
"You idiots!"
Edwin's face flushed crimson, and he bellowed until his voice cracked, blood still pouring down his back.
"Stop standing there like dolts and grab the woman!"
"No — he's the one lying!"
The Baroness roared back just as loudly, refusing to yield an inch.
"Edwin broke into the bedchamber, stabbed the Baron to death, and then tried to violate me beside his corpse! Look at the blade in his hand! The blood running off it is the Baron's!"
"That — that raving witch—"
Malice in her eyes, resentment thick in her voice — the very picture of a wife unjustly widowed.
Seeing the normally gentle and gracious Baroness raging like a madwoman, the soldiers' expressions hardened by degrees.
"Spears — up—!"
It was the middle-aged sergeant Paul's roar. In the same instant, the soldiers leveled their spears at the mercenaries.
"Until Master Chester arrives, we protect the lady!"
It was meant to keep his men in line, but Paul's shout proved a grave mistake. The soldiers would keel over and die at that woman's word. And the Training Master's on her side too.
Edwin, who had done nothing but bellow in place, grasped the situation at once and swept his gaze across the hall. His own men numbered nearly sixty, while the soldiers didn't even reach twenty.
"Very well—"
In the end, Edwin clenched his teeth and gave the order.
"Charge! Kill every last one of them!"
At the command, the mercenaries let out a concerted war cry and hurled themselves at the soldiers.
"Hold—!"
With Sergeant Paul's roar, the bloodbath began.
"Die! Push them back!"
"Don't give ground! We have to hold!"
The soldiers braced themselves with leveled spears, but Edwin's men held both the advantage in numbers and a wealth of battle experience. Barely moments into the fight, four soldiers had fallen spurting blood.
Amias, guarding the Baroness's side, registered their worsening odds and dashed forward.
"St — and aside!"
With a razor-sharp roar, the heavy halberd let out a vicious hiss. Just before the axe-blade reached a mercenary's skull, a raging fire surged up.
CRACK!
The mercenary with the cleaved head crumpled straight to the floor. Something pale spilled out, then slowly cooked and curdled in the flame the halberd breathed.
"Drop — dead!"
Amias swung the halberd ferociously in every direction.
"Wh — ah—"
When a scarlet blaze roared up ferociously before their eyes, the rattled mercenaries instinctively fell back.
Amias pressed after them, thrusting and slashing with the halberd. The massive, razor-edged weapon inflicted fatal wounds at a mere graze, and a bad hit could sever a limb outright.
CLANG!
In the middle of it all, the axe-blade caught on the iron chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
"Wha—"
For a heartbeat he panicked — then, muscle memory squeezing the strength out of him, Amias ripped the halberd down with everything he had.
CRREEEK — CRASH!
"Ghk—!"
"G — gaaagh!"
The massive iron chandelier came down into the thick of the enemy. Three or four mercenaries were pinned beneath it, screaming and moaning.
The way forward suddenly clear, Amias flung himself ahead. He vaulted over the chandelier and the mercenaries pinned under it and threw himself at Edwin.
"Th — damn it all, stop him!"
"Oh, you have got to be—"
At Edwin's roar, one mercenary rushed in with his shield raised. Amias brought the halberd down mid-stride.
KRAK-KRAK-CRUNCH!
The reddish haft savagely crushed the shield raised against him, and—
CRACK!
—the massive axe-blade crumpled the man's iron helm like paper.
"Geh — gehrrgh—"
The mercenary with the caved-in skull made a strange sound, shuddered once, and toppled sideways.
Recovering the halberd, Amias kept running, spearpoint thrust out ahead of him.
"U — ugh—"
THUD!
The mercenary supporting Edwin stumbled backward and caught the spearhead in his throat, coughing up blood.
HISS—
Then, for just a moment, the halberd's flame seared the wound shut — and the mercenary with the pierced throat vomited smoke instead of blood, eyes rolling white.
Amias wrenched the halberd free of the dying man and swung it in a great, low arc, like drawing a circle.
"Wh — what—!"
The scything blade hooked Edwin's ankle. As Edwin crashed down hard, Amias stomped on his back and leveled the halberd at his neck.
"Hah — hahh—"
Steadying his ragged breath, Amias let out a bellow.
"Everyone — STOP!"
At his roar, the bewildered mercenaries froze.
"Drop your weapons and fall back! Before I cut your captain in two!"
With the flaming halberd pressed to Edwin's neck, Amias growled like a beast. The mercenaries muttered low curses and withdrew.
Just then, several people came hurrying into the hall. Herald Tollermy, the maid Selma, the steward Edita, the scribe Beldin — the household retainers of House Anig.
"What — what in the world is the meaning of this!" Herald Tollermy cried out in a hoarse, quavering voice, and the Baroness, who had been hiding behind the soldiers, stepped forward.
"Edwin — that man killed the Baron."
Her voice had grown remarkably composed, but her eyes still dripped fury and venom.
"He did it to usurp the lordship and violate me. The filthy kinslayer."
"That's not—!"
Edwin, pinned beneath Amias's boot with blood still streaming down his back, writhed and protested like a man in his death throes.
"Lies! It was your doing, you witch! I saw it all with my own two eyes!"
"As if murdering the Baron weren't enough, he then ordered his men to slaughter every soldier here."
Realizing how the situation had turned against him, Edwin whirled toward the retainers and screamed, half in pleading.
"Don't just stand there — someone restrain that madwoman!"
Utterly unmoved by his appeals, Dionea stepped out before the soldiers and raised her voice.
"Sergeant Amias!"
"Y-yes, my lady!"
"That man is guilty of murdering the Baron. Cut off his head this instant!"
"Hmm—"
As Amias hesitated, glancing at the retainers' faces, Edwin screamed, nearly weeping.
"Why would I kill my own brother! I had no reason whatsoever!"
"No reason? That you coveted the Baron's seat — every soul in Longville knew it, and so did I!"
"My brother the Baron already promised me! He promised that the fief would pass to me!"
As the retainers exchanged looks and murmured among themselves, Edwin bellowed, pleading as if for his life.
"I — I meant to build my footing in the fief with my brother's help, and then inherit the seat in due time! Why on earth would I kill him!"
"What he says is true."
The maid Selma spoke up carefully.
"The Baron once told me that, having no son, he meant to continue his line through his half-brother Edwin."
The retainers' suspicious gazes swung toward the Baroness. Dionea bit her lower lip hard and let out a long sigh.
"...The Baron said the same thing to me."
"...Pardon?"
"That he would pass the fief on to Edwin."
"Then, my lady—"
"But."
She swept Amias's surcoat away in one motion. Her body, nearly bare beneath the thin dress, was laid bare before the retainers and soldiers alike.
"He changed his mind recently, you see."
The Baroness gently touched her lower abdomen. The loose dress clung to her skin, revealing a faint, swelling curve.
"Because he learned that I carry his heir."
The retainers and soldiers recoiled, mouths agape.
Dionea glared at Amias with flashing eyes.
"Do you understand now? The moment Edwin learned I was carrying the Baron's heir, he moved to kill the both of us and usurp the seat."
"That's — that's insane."
Edwin gasped for breath, thrashing like a madman.
"Lies! Everything that witch says is a lie!"
In that instant, Amias seemed to understand something, and his jaw trembled.
"Sergeant Amias! Cut that man's head off now!"
Under Dionea's blazing eyes and furious urging, Amias clenched his teeth.
"My broth—"
SHOK!
The head of Edwin, mid-roar, went rolling and tumbling across the floor.
Amias's halberd still blazed with fierce fire. Because that flame had burned the stump clean, hardly any blood spattered.
"Well done."
Dionea's frigid gaze looked down at Edwin's severed head.
"You have avenged the Baron."
The hall sank into an eerie silence.
When Dionea staggered back to her bedchamber, she was met by a maid gone white as a sheet.
"M — my lady!"
"Julia?"
The old Baron lay sprawled on the floor, his head resting in the lap of the young maid, Julia. His throat had been torn wide open, blood streaming freely.
"My — my lord, he's — he's still breathing!"
"...What did you say?"
Dionea's fingertips trembled — and then she approached the Baron.
"Khh — khh—"
The Baron's clouded eyes turned toward his young wife.
"Julia."
"Y-yes, my lady. Shall I fetch a priest?"
"No."
Gazing quietly down into the Baron's eyes, Dionea spoke in a calm voice.
"You may go."
"...Pardon?"
"I'm giving you a holiday. Go home and tend to your pumpkins."
"My lady, what do you—"
The green-eyed woman gently stroked the bewildered maid's hair.
"There's a festival coming soon, isn't there?"
"My lady."
"Just the three of you will feel a bit lonely. Why not invite your cousin up from Southharbor?"
"What on earth are you saying? My lord is—"
As the maid stammered in confusion, she met Dionea's eyes — and swallowed dryly.
"You may go."
"I — I... yes."
Trembling through her shoulders, the maid left the bedchamber.
"Khrr—"
While Baron Mallory clawed weakly at the floor, Dionea stood motionless for a while, gazing out the window. Far in the distance, the mountain road wound its way over the Graduil Pass.
"...Hoo."
Exhaling a long breath, Dionea knelt beside the Baron and picked up the dagger lying on the floor.
"Shhh."
Squelch. Squelch.
"Khhg — khhgk."
The ragged, intermittent breathing stopped.
"Shhh."
Perched on the edge of the bed, Dionea stroked her lower abdomen and looked out the window once more.
Toward the north, from which the cold wind blew.