War Machines (3)
The sun slowly dipped below the horizon in the evening sky. The sunset vanishing beyond the crimson wasteland plains was the same in the future as it was now.
This view never changes.
If there was one spectacular sight to behold from atop the fifty-meter-high walls, this had to be it. Even before his regression, he had often lost himself in thought while gazing at that sunset, but now it felt far more refreshing.
"Y-Young master. This place is dangerous."
Robert Seville, who had accompanied him as his guard, wouldn't even let him enjoy the sunset and kept urging him to head back.
"It's not even Gate 3— you've come all the way to Gate 1, the frontline walls...!"
"I'm here for the maintenance inspection. I'll check it quickly and go, so don't worry."
"Ugh...."
Robert's face was pale, and he struggled to compose himself. Part of it was surely his acrophobia, but mostly, it had to be the anxiety of having the family heir at the foremost frontline facing the enemy nation.
"Y-Young master. Then... ten minutes—no, five minutes. Let's get down quickly and head to Gate 3 at least, the innermost one...."
If asked whether his concern stemmed more from the former or the latter, considering Robert's personality, it was undoubtedly the latter.
"Are you afraid of heights, by any chance?"
"Pardon?! N-No way!"
He had only teased him lightly as a joke, but Robert bristled, his eyebrows shooting up.
"I'm a knight! If given the order, I could climb even higher—right up to the top of that canyon over there!"
"Is that so? Then maybe next time we go there?"
"Y-Young master!!"
"That was a real joke this time. The reason I asked if you're afraid of heights... well, yeah."
It was because the paradigm of war would shift in the war ten years from now.
"Sir Robert. What if the Empire created weapons that could fly over the canyon?"
"...Are you talking about griffin riders or wyvern riders? You think the Empire is copying our kingdom's pride?"
"Hmm...."
Among Nostrum Kingdom's forces were those called "Dragon Knights."
"It's risky, but can the Empire match the kingdom's experience? Even if they're not true dragons, the Dragon Knights are veterans."
They were also commonly referred to as "OOO Riders," knights who soared the skies mounted on beasts like drakes, wyverns, or griffins.
"No matter how many magic bullets they fire, they can't pierce the Dragon Knights' magitech armor."
"That stuff with the anti-magic shield?"
"Exactly! Those bastards won't stand a chance against our knights' lances."
Why Dragon Knights? It was to honor their origins—the progenitor of Nostrum had been a dragon rider.
"Even if the royal dragons died out in this generation, that doesn't mean the kingdom's Dragon Knights have weakened!"
"True enough."
There were no dragons now. The kingdom had failed to breed them, and they were staking everything on sub-species like wyverns, drakes, and griffins.
"The last dragon egg—the current king gobbled it up, right?"
"Uh, well...."
"They were getting smaller anyway, causing problems, but he thought it was just a big bird egg and secretly tried to make fried rice with it."
"Ahem, ahem, ahem!!"
"The enraged mother dragon just up and left the kingdom."
The incompetent king had been a walking disaster since childhood. Though the royal dragons had shrunk to about five meters over generations, they were still one of the kingdom's symbols.
"They're still looking for her. Probably dead by now."
"Y-You can't say such things lightly. Drakes may be stronger now, but dragons are symbols!"
"Losing the crown doesn't mean you lose the throne. Though the authority's in the gutter."
"Young master...!"
Despite such blunders, he had become king because he was the only Nostrum left when the previous king passed.
"No other place to have this talk but here."
"I'm listening."
"That's why I'm speaking so freely in front of you, Sir Robert. I know you won't go blabbing."
"Ugh...."
Robert clutched his head.
"A-anyway, time's up! Let's go down!"
"I still have mountains of things to say."
"If it's griping, just let it all out! Even if you lack talent with the sword and can't become a Sword Master, you're still you!"
This guy. Did he really think he couldn't become a Sword Master because he "lacked talent"?
"About that... I was going to ask you for a favor—"
Thump.
His heart pulsed suddenly.
"......Oh."
It wasn't his heart—it was his heart sensing the vibration from the ancient magic formations installed on the walls and gates.
"Perfect timing."
"Pardon?"
"Anyone else here? Guards—!"
He called out loudly, but no response.
Damn.
He had slipped into old habits. Habits were a scary thing.
"Y-Young master! There are no guards at Gate 1...! They all station from Gate 2 onward...!"
"Right. They're not far."
Gate 1 had no guards posted. That had been true until now, but in the future, they would station them. Naturally, there had been a trigger for that change.
Who would have thought the triggering incident would happen today?
This shouldn't be happening yet—it's about a year early.
Ruuuumble.
The magic formation at Gate 1 activated.
"Y-Young master. This can't be...?"
"I'm not controlling it. The gate's stored magic formation has started auto-targeting."
Reacting naturally to the Nostrum blood flowing in his veins, the gate activated its magic formation toward the plains beyond the walls, preparing a magitech barrage.
"Enemies."
The kingdom and empire were at war. But war didn't always mean human against human.
"Looks like the monsters from the pollution zone are finally climbing into the canyon."
Beneath the beautiful fading sunset. Colossal monsters cast thick shadows as they approached the canyon.
"Orcs."
* * *
Dinnertime at the Gibraltar household.
Head butler Malcolm thought the atmosphere in the margrave's residence lately was like walking on thin ice.
"Where's Grey?"
"The young master took some light snacks and headed to the canyon with Sir Robert."
The margrave had noticed the eldest son's empty seat at dinner and asked where he was.
"I know. He hasn't returned yet?"
"No, sir."
"I see."
No, at least the mood at the dinner table was more harmonious than before.
"He didn't hold off on reporting, did he?"
"No, sir. I instructed the gate guards to notify us the moment he arrives."
"Hm."
The butler answered the margrave's questions calmly. Only the mansion's servants felt like they were walking a knife's edge, where one slip meant death.
"So he hasn't arrived. ...That boy. I told him breakfast and dinner must always be together."
The margrave clicked his tongue in disappointment. The butler, who had known him since childhood, watched intently, his mind racing.
What is this?
Didn't he start training the second son Noir in swordsmanship because he planned to make him the heir?
Wasn't it because the eldest, Grey, made some huge mistake at the capital?
Why does he seem more concerned about Grey now? Did I misjudge?
"Butler."
"Yes, my lord."
"Prepare dinner. He'll probably be late."
"Yes, sir."
The butler summoned the maids at the margrave's order, and soon they began arranging the neatly plated food on the table.
"Tonight's dinner features sliced pork coated in holgrain and grilled...."
The butler recited the evening menu as usual. Servants had to gauge their master's intentions while pretending ignorance and following orders.
"Did Grey leave any other message for you?"
"Nothing beyond what I've reported—he said he'd return once the canyon inspection was done."
"I see."
Especially since this was the margrave who had executed all those showing disloyal tendencies.
"That boy...."
The moment the margrave's gaze fell on the knife before him, the butler—and even the maids beside him—swallowed hard.
"My lord."
Charlotte softly called to the margrave, gesturing to the side.
"Hm. Right. We can't just wait."
The eldest son's seat was empty, but his two younger siblings were already seated, watching nervously.
"Eat."
The margrave slowly lifted his glass. Clink, clink. Gibraltar dinners began with the family head taking up his utensils first. No one spoke, lending the atmosphere an eerie solemnity. But this was the Gibraltar norm. Family custom forbade talk during meals—their dinners were silent and still.
Stab.
"Charlotte."
"Y-Yes?"
"If you have something to say, say it."
A change pierced the mood.
"Uh, um... Is Grey alright? It's prime eating time."
Ever the noble, she didn't speak with food in her mouth, but she rarely interrupted her meal to talk.
"Butler."
"Yes, my lord."
"What food did Grey take?"
"Excluding the knight's rations, two light sandwiches."
"...Tch."
Far too meager.
"He must eat all three meals properly. Emma. Warm the soup. So if he returns, we can eat together right away."
"Yes, my lord!"
A freckled maid picked up the soup bowl from Grey's place and headed to the kitchen.
"Dinner should be hearty with meat to grow tall and build muscle... Ha. Noir."
"Y-Yes!"
"Eat plenty. Tomorrow's training will be tougher than today."
"......."
Noir, midway through slicing bread, gaped.
"F-Father? D-Does big brother train with us too...?"
"I'm not the one teaching your brother."
"Pardon?"
"Your brother... tch. Never mind. Eat quietly. No leftovers, and eat balanced."
"Yes, sir...."
Noir fell silent. Once decided in Gibraltar, things rarely changed, so he obediently chewed his meat as ordered.
"My lord."
"Speak, madam."
"Who do you have in mind as Grey's teacher? Surely not really the Grand Duke of Morgania...?"
"I'd sooner send Grey to Morgania than bring that old coot before you."
The margrave snapped irritably at the mere mention of the grand duke.
"Madam, rest easy. Even if Grey truly wanted that man, he'd never stand before you."
"...If Grey wants it, I could bear it."
"No. Even Grey wouldn't want that...."
As the margrave reached for his knife to cut his steak, he suddenly stood.
"Enemies."
"Pardon?"
"Enemies approaching the canyon. Excuse me. Malcolm! The scrying stone."
"It's prepared in the tactical—"
"I'll check right here. Bring it here."
"Yes, sir!"
The butler moved faster than ever to obey. He dashed down the hall like a bullet, grabbed the scrying stone from the tactical room, and returned to the dining hall.
"Pardon the intrusion, my lord."
"No matter. Just set it up quickly."
"Yes, sir!"
Vrrr.
A knight hurriedly placed a mana stone orb larger than a man's head on the cart that had brought the food.
Swish.
The margrave wiped his knife with a napkin, infused it with aura, nicked his thumb, and pressed the bloodied thumb to the orb.
Vrrr.
The mana stone orb lit up instantly, projecting an image onto the dining hall's white wall.
"Orcs. Numbers around... three thousand?"
Colossal monsters approaching the canyon. Each over two meters tall, humanoid fiends—orks, infamous among monsters for their ferocity.
"Three thousand orcs, heading for the canyon... why?"
"Ah, aaah...?!"
Before anyone could question the orcs' appearance, Charlotte screamed and shot to her feet.
"Grey?!!"
"......!!"
In the image's center. Atop the frontline walls of Gate 1, facing the orcs—a gray-haired boy stared down below, munching a sandwich.
Smirk.
The moment Grey turned toward the image.
"Wha... uh...."
Emma, the maid who had just brought the freshly warmed soup, froze at the dining hall's transformed atmosphere.
"Th-There...."
"...Ten minutes to get there, ten minutes back."
Clank.
"Five minutes to cut them down."
The margrave buckled on the sword sheath hanging on the dining hall wall.
"Leave the soup on the table. I'll be back soon. Madam."
"My lord...."
"Don't worry. I'll drag him back by the collar if I have to."
The margrave undid his cuff buttons casually.
"Before his soup gets cold, I'll return with him."
He flung open the window leading from the dining hall to the garden.
"My lord! At least take a—"
"Running's faster."
* * *
"Young master! Please!"
"Sir Robert. Isn't it ironic?"
"Young master!!"
"Not denying Gibraltar or anything, but even seeing those monsters doesn't worry me."
"Ah, ugh...! Damn it, I'm laying hands on the young master's body! Discipline me later!!"
Robert reached to piggyback him.
"Relax. This is Gibraltar."
"Huh...?"
I sidestepped his hands, and Robert's eyes widened in shock.
"Young master, how...?"
"No desire to be carried or piggybacked by a man, and I'm eating right now anyway."
I held up my half-eaten sandwich.
"Perfect timing. Best seat in the house to see just how amazing these strategic weapons are. No VIP seats needed."
"...Huh?"
Thud thud thud.
The cloud bridge stretching to Gate 1 began to shake.
"He's here."
Too narrow to call a bridge—barely wide enough for one person running—the iron lattice transmitted steady vibrations.
"Wow. Coming at full speed? Touching."
As if someone were sprinting across the iron cloud bridge.
"What a pain. Thinking I have to do something without a Sword Master, only to hope one shows up."
"You."
The voice came with the passing wind—not Robert's.
"To the study when we get home."
"Yes, Father."
I lightly bowed toward the red storm leaping beyond the walls.
"Sir Robert."
I shoved the rest of my sandwich into my mouth and picked up the last one.
"Which will finish first? Me eating this..."
Boooom!!
Something crashed down from the fifty-meter wall, sending a massive explosion and shockwave through the canyon.
"...Or a full-power Sword Master carving through three thousand orcs."
"......."
The answer was obvious.
"One thing's clear, though."
I poured black tea from my thermos into the lid.
"Angering Father—one of the top Masters out there—is definite suicide."
Laying a hand on the wife of the man who could slaughter three thousand orcs in five minutes?
"Even the Empire's emperor wouldn't dare."
Yet the incompetent king had done it.
"To our magnificent king."
A toast to the Empire's hero.