Chapter 247
Chapter 247
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 247
Chapter Title: The Emperor's Eye (6)
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“Damn it all. You filthy, treacherous, beast-blooded bastards!!”
Duke Sephor ground his teeth to dust as he spurred his mount onward. Around him marched the remnants of his duchy’s forces, looking every bit the defeated rabble.
It felt utterly humiliating. Not a single battle had been fought. Except for that one.
“How far have those filthy mongrels’ forces advanced?”
“Bullrang still holds, but Rylen, Moras, and Hafen are under siege in their city streets.”
“Goddamn it. Isn’t Rylen right in front of Bullrang?!”
No retainer dared answer the duke’s roar. The capital was within reach, their cause was just, and the capital’s garrison was a mere handful. Indeed, up until the reports of the opposition rising along the road to Libyé during their march, the duchy’s army had been riding a wave of sky-high morale.
—Ha, six thousand? Even scraping together every militia in the capital, they wouldn’t reach ten thousand. Word is they’re just scraps pulled from the wasteland, barely enough to make that number? Better news than we could hope for. A chance to show those Bullrang men just how tough we are!
In truth, Duke Sephor had been overjoyed at Duke Erbe’s advance and pushed his own forces even harder. He intended to “protect” the capital, left vulnerable by the troop shortages disrupting public order. It was a blatant ploy to seize military control around the capital and force a transfer of the throne.
And there were no frontier marquises to oppose his obvious scheme. Those who might have were conveniently entangled in the second prince’s rebellion.
—That fool’s out to kill his own father? Guess I’ll lend a hand with the blade. Ah, Shaild, it truly feels like the crown is calling me!
The duke had never even considered failure. But now... the Bullrang region, stripped bare of troops, was suddenly ablaze from bandits that had appeared out of nowhere.
—Preeeek...
The cry of a hawk echoed from somewhere. Bullrang scowled at the mountain path. His army snaked its way into the narrow gorge.
“Something feels off.”
“Pardon?”
“No word from the scouts?”
“Cardell the Grand Duke is still encamped near Paltenoya. Reports say the beastman great chieftain led a few of their troops toward Libyé.”
“Good. I’ll have my chance to deal with that lowly wench soon enough. That’s no concern.”
Sephor said this as he eyed the dense mountains. Early summer evening. Once they cleared that ridgeline, wide plains stretched out. Which meant—if anyone were to attempt an ambush, no terrain was better suited than those wild hills...
‘No hostile forces nearby to try an ambush.’
Sephor shook his head, forcing the thought away. Duke Erbe hadn’t sent out detachments, the chieftain’s cavalry numbered only three or four hundred at most, and his own host was a massive fifteen thousand strong.
‘But it still feels uneasy...’
* * *
Fernandez sat in a tree, gazing down at the soldiers marching along the mountain pass below. Feizashi sniffed the air teasingly with a wicked grin.
—The smell of defeat.
‘It’ll only get stronger soon enough.’
Feizashi and Fernandez chuckled together. In noble society, the key pillars were “justification” and “face,” and Sephor was retreating after losing the battle of justifications.
Sephor’s initial claim had been “protection of the imperial house.” He meant to fill the capital’s security vacuum with his own forces. But mobilizing fifteen thousand and leading the army personally naturally implied more than that.
Duke Erbe’s counter was also “protection of the imperial house.” When two nobles clashed with the same justification, the one with the greater force prevailed. Thus, battle seemed inevitable.
Fifteen thousand against six thousand. Not every war was decided by numbers alone, but at its core, combat was a numbers game. No amount of individual skill could overturn such absolute disparity.
Hence, the battle of justifications.
“Partak. How far have the ‘raiders’ progressed?”
—As you commanded, they’re striking every city except Bullrang.
“Any successful sieges?”
—As if.
A chuckling came from the torch Fernandez held. Partak replied in a grim tone.
—No matter how fiercely those beastman bandit packs rampage, they can’t breach walls. And the warriors who joined them are just posers, few in number.
Fernandez smirked at the words. Officially, the beastmen warriors “attacking” Bullrang were “rebels” opposed to Kirhas’s rule. They rampaged across the duchy with feigned ferocity, but their numbers were scant.
The real main force—Kirhas’s tribal warriors—was advancing from the Great Wasteland. Even with meticulous preparations, mobilizing a tribal society took time.
Thus, these raiders were mere detachments. The beastmen’s vaunted “invincible” legions were only now reaching the eastern Wasteland.
A battle of justifications. Could a lord who couldn’t even defend his own domain claim to support the imperial capital by dragging his entire army there? That kind of mockery would spread through noble society. Duke Sephor’s face was already in the dirt.
For the sake of face alone, Duke Sephor had to head to Bullrang. Moreover, hadn’t Kirhas herself declared:
—Those rebels defy my rule, so I shall judge them personally.
Judgment was fine. But where? The rebels were in Bullrang, so it meant leading her main army there. From Sephor’s position, it was enough to make him leap in rage.
‘Hoisted by his own petard.’
Kirhas had moved her troops on the exact same logic he used to “protect” the capital. Time remained before her arrival, but in the worst case, he might have to prepare for battle.
A battle within the duchy would leave the surrounding lands in flames and ruins. Productivity would plummet by half or more. Sephor needed to crush the “rebels” in his domain as swiftly as possible and shatter Kirhas’s justification.
“We’ve judged the rebels in your stead, so we expect compensation.” That would be his best play. Therefore.
“If that’s what he wants, then do the opposite.”
In his past life, Sephor was the second man to burn the capital.
And Feizashi was the third man to burn the capital.
And the first to “destroy” it.
“Now, let’s teach them a lesson.”
At his words, three hundred cavalry waiting along the ridgeline charged down in unison.
Kirhas’s proudest cavalry—the strongest. In civilized lands, dismissed as mere “beasts.”
For the first time, they bared their fangs at civilization.
* * *
Screams erupted among the soldiers on the mountain path. The thunder of hooves couldn’t be hidden easily, but the fatigue from the long march delayed their awareness.
—Kwaaaagh!
—Enemy attack!!
Shouts rose from the column’s center. Duke Sephor scowled and bellowed at his adjutant.
“The scouts reported no enemies in the mountains?!”
The adjutant paled in panic. Sephor clicked his tongue. He swung his sword and roared.
“Enemy attack! Send the cavalry! Identify them and buy time!”
“Yes, Your Grace!”
Frontier marquises’ knights differed in quality from central nobles’. These were battle-hardened elites. Unfazed by the sudden raid, they cheered at the duke.
The knights charged along the path. The dense foliage slowed their mounts. Sephor clicked his tongue again, thinking.
This mountain was perfectly shaped for ambushes. Sephor wasn’t some inept political noble; he’d sent scouts to check the pass before entering.
So, one of two things. Either the scouts slacked off and missed the enemy...
‘Their numbers are small!’
It meant a tiny force too few to enter the scouts’ sight was preparing the ambush. Sephor wheeled his horse and shouted.
“Mages!! Locate the enemy lines!!”
A small force—unless entirely mages—would be outmatched in magic. At Sephor’s command, the mages hastily formed up.
* * *
—They fight better than expected.
‘Duke Sephor’s no fool.’
A simple brute couldn’t burn the imperial capital. Sephor had the skill to back his ambitions.
—That makes it easier, though.
‘Right. Easier to manipulate than some unpredictable hothead.’
Those who relied solely on strength and raged blindly were tricky—their actions unpredictable. But grasping someone like Sephor, tangled in “some” brains and “some” pride, was simple.
Fernandez said this as he turned his gaze to the sky. Above the sunset, mana scattered—signs of a magic battle unfolding.
Impossible to gauge the enemy battle-mages precisely, but no one could overwhelm dozens with one person’s mana alone.
Yet total mana wasn’t the sole decider in magic battles, and Fernandez despised that approach.
‘Lacking finesse.’
—Hasty spells are all like that.
‘Tch, mages these days.’
In his past life, the Crimson Archduke’s demons weren’t magic-savvy. Incarnations of destruction and violence, inept at strategy, schemes, or magic.
And Feizashi—his most favored mage, his sole magic asset—had never lost a magic battle in his past life.
—Fwoooosh.
A beastman overlapped. Mana shortage? An excuse. A “true” mage could weave dozens of circuits from a handful of mana.
Magic used precisely where needed. Time to teach that delicate art. Fernandez smiled, interlacing his fingers. A black halo rose behind him.
* * *
“Still?!”
“N-Nearly there, Your Grace!”
The court mages chanted, sweating profusely. Blanketing the mountain in detection wasn’t easy, but with enough mana and time, doable.
But time... In the interim, the flank raiders had precisely torched the supply wagons and vanished. They’d pierced deep into the column’s depth before the knights arrived, then slipped away.
Exquisite horsemanship. Impossible for imperial heavy cavalry formations in dense woods.
‘Damn beast scum.’
Reports from the clash site: around three hundred beastman light cavalry. Confirmed small numbers, but Sephor’s pride stung too much for smug satisfaction.
“Hurry! Bring me their heads before they all escape!”
“Y-Yes, Your Grace!”
The court mages, meanwhile, were miserable. The spell was complete. Mana in the sky was wholly theirs; no trace of enemy magic in these hills.
Yet nothing was visible. Not the enemy cavalry crashing through the woods, nor pursuing knights, nor scouts. The forest was perfectly still.
As if fogged. Even with the spell revealing every inch...
No living movers—not a single insect.
“How is this possible? Did the spell fail?”
“No, it’s perfect. This area is fully under our mana field!”
“What in the...”
Sephor received the mages’ report an hour later. And in that hour, his forces endured three more ambushes.
“Goddamn... mongrels. Planned this from the start...!”
“Your Grace, night’s fallen.”
“Shit. Fortify camp! Rest and regroup! We move again at midday tomorrow!”
Sephor hurled his teacup, bellowing.
* * *
Fernandez sat in the tree, looking down at the approaching soldiers. Sweat- and blood-soaked beastman cavalry slumped on their mounts, gulping from canteens, panting.
“Good work.”
“They plan to overnight in these mountains, but pushing further risked us getting smashed, so we pulled back.”
“Well done.”
Sephor was erecting textbook defenses. With double the troops, Fernandez would’ve struck; leading exhausted cavalry risked annihilation.
Fernandez gave a wry smile. By now, without detection spells, their command probably sensed the numerical disadvantage.
“What now? Satisfied with half a day’s delay?”
“As if.”
“Tomorrow’ll be different. We hammered their supply wagons today, so if they’ve got brains, they’ll prioritize that. No more luck like today.”
“Luck, you say.”
The full army could cross the mountains in three days. Then came open plains; ambushes hiding numbers wouldn’t be as easy.
But they needed to buy time until Kirhas’s main force arrived. Every hour gained here bolstered her justification.
“Ever hunted?”
“...What?”
“Bears, trolls, ogres—big game like that.”
“We’re Great Wasteland warriors. Not like you soft central folk. Born hunters, we are.”
“Then you know.”
Fernandez smiled down at the cavalry captain.
“When hunting beasts bigger than you, first you drive them.”