Chapter 73
Chapter 73
The Iron Emperor — Chapter 73
Heave-ho, heave-ho, out upon the sea we go.
Heave-ho, heave-ho, the ocean blue as indigo,
Stirs the springtime heart in every man below~.
When the sun comes up it tempts a wife to loosen up her sash~.
When the moon climbs high she plays coy—is the moon a woman's plump white ass~?
Stirs the lustful heart in every man below~.
...Unlike the earlier verses, the song that followed was riddled with ribald lyrics.
"They're completely out of control."
A deflated voice escaped Gerard's lips. Siren's song this, Siren's song that—by now the crew had gone off on their own, stuffing two strips of cloth inside their shirts like women's breasts and dancing around doing god knows what. Then, from one side, a sailor's voice burst out.
"Holy—they stripped!"
"What? Some bastard drop his pants?"
"Right there, there, there!"
"Dear god!"
The deck erupted into commotion.
Gerard gathered his mana desperately and strode forward. The moment he saw the sailors' abruptly vacant pupils, he realized instantly that something had gone wrong.
"Damn it!"
"Hang on, you crazy bastard!"
A sailor suddenly tried to hurl himself into the sea, and the others lunged to grab him. Seeing that, Gerard thought it fortunate the sailors had not all lost their reason. But that thought was a mistake.
"......."
At the sailors' subsequent behavior, Gerard forgot what he had meant to say.
"Oh lord~ I've got chills."
"Agh, man, I swear I'm losing my mind!"
"That bastard's gonna split his breeches. Kekekekeh!"
"They say he's always been hung, you know."
They ranged from men standing awkwardly stooped to men standing proudly erect. Gathered on the reef outcroppings where they were all staring were Sirens, their upper bodies bared above the water.
The Gauri navy was, it turned out...
...acutely sensitive to the sight of female skin.
"......."
As Gerard stood there with nothing to say, sailors bustled back and forth in front of him and behind him, raising a riotous racket of delight.
"Hey, look over there!"
"Whoa!"
"......?"
By now their antics didn't even surprise him anymore. He simply watched what they were doing. But the scene he came upon at one side of the ship shattered even that composure of Gerard's.
"Now they're pulling every damn stunt in the book...."
In the direction Gerard was looking, sailors were casting nets toward the Sirens.
"Fleet Commander!"
"Here!"
Jang Bogo, who had been cackling along with the crew, came running up with his eyes rolling at Gerard's shout.
"Stop that, will you?"
"Pardon? Survivors in distress must be rescued."
"Do survivors in distress these days all go about naked?"
"......."
At Gerard's words, Bogo sensed something odd for a moment.
"And are survivors in distress these days exclusively female?"
"No..."
"Survivors in distress these days are in awfully high spirits, then. Singing songs, waiting for passing ships."
"......."
Gerard could only sigh. He had only told them of the Sirens' danger; he hadn't told them what they looked like, thinking they would have no reason to encounter any. Now he cursed himself for it.
"Those are Sirens."
"Heok—!"
Horror spread over Bogo's face. But from the rear of the ship—weren't the sailors suddenly throwing themselves flat on the deck?
"Celestial maidens of the Dragon Palace!"
"Ohhh~!"
"Celestial maidens come up from the Dragon Palace, we beg your forgiveness!"
"......."
Men who moments before had been hauling nets to rescue castaways were now starting into bizarre antics. On another ship, some sailors had caught a Siren in their net, glimpsed that her lower body was the lower body of a fish, and let her go in startled fright. When someone among them cried out that they were Dragon Palace celestial maidens, the sailors on every ship were now all prostrating themselves on the deck and bowing their heads to the planks.
"Damn! I'm going to have to hold separate training sessions later."
Gerard rubbed his aching head and let out a sigh. Still, he took comfort that they had not, at least, been seduced by the Sirens.
'But how....'
Gerard could not understand how these men were perfectly fine even after hearing the Sirens' song of temptation.
'Are these Sirens not the same Sirens I know?'
In the end, Gerard found himself doubting his own knowledge.
'Let's see....'
Slowly, Gerard withdrew the mana that had been blocking the Sirens' sound waves.
"......."
A moment later—
Splash!
"Waaaagh!"
"Commander-in-Chief Gerard has thrown himself overboard!"
"Throw the net, quickly!"
There was something Gerard had overlooked.
These men were humans who from the time they were in the womb had grown up listening to hoofbeats. Because of that, only a single beat pattern was imprinted deep in their minds.
Triple beat.
Clip-clop, clip-clop....
Because of that beat, and the singing and dancing drilled into them since childhood, no song could enchant them unless it carried a rhythm more lively and more fierce than the Sirens' song. There was no way Gerard could have known that.
That day, thanks to his sailors' quick assessment of the situation, Gerard was barely hauled back out of the sea.
A single inspired thought flashed through Gerard's mind after his near-humiliation.
'That's it. We'll build a base within the Sea of Sirens!'
If they did that, it would become a fortress blessed by nature itself.
* * *
Boom! Boom-boom-boom-boom!
A harsh din shook the air. Hundreds of cavalry charged at the forest of pike shafts.
"Aaaaagh!"
"Don't fall back!"
"Hee-hee-heeng!"
A knight impaled on the end of a five-mir pike screamed in agony. Charging a forest of pikes bristling like a hedgehog was the height of recklessness. Even so, the blades of knights who forced their way into that forest of shafts sent pikemen's heads flying in sprays of blood.
Thwack-thwack-thwump!
"Kurf!"
But only for a moment. Pike tips raining in from the rear pierced their whole bodies through, and they toppled from their horses vomiting up the blood surging from within.
"Second wave incoming!"
"Tighten the formation!"
The North Roselin Heavy Armored Knight Order charged as if recklessness itself were their creed. Over a hundred mounts, churning up clouds of dust, came into view.
"Archers, loose!"
The instant the knight order entered fifty mir of effective range, arrows split the sky. But the arrows managed only to kill a mere three or four horses. The heavy-armored knights of North Roselin were already raising their lances and bearing down upon the pikemen.
"Pikes up!"
"Yaa-yaa-yaa!"
"Plant your pikes into the earth!"
"Eu-yaaah!"
As if answering the exhorting voice of their knight, the pikemen's cries rang out near-shrieking. Blood-drinking pike-heads were raised toward the bodies of the charging heavy-armored knights.
THUD-THUD-THUD!
Crash! Cra-cra-cra-crash!
"Aagh!"
Thwump-crash!
This time the charge had its effect: one section of the pikemen's line began to collapse. Seizing that opening, North Roselin soldiers began their charge.
"Loose arrows!"
Twang! Twang-twang-twang!
WHIZZ!
The moment they passed within roughly ninety mir, arrows flew up in unison.
"Shields to the sky!"
"Eu-yaaa!"
TAP-TAP-TAP!
"My leg!"
"Urgk!"
Even with shields raised in defense, their running formation had remained unchanged, and gaps opened in their cover. A soldier who lowered his shield to an arrow buried in his leg soon became a pincushion and fell.
"Charge!"
"Woo-waaaagh!"
Having weathered the rain of arrows, the North Roselin army lunged forward with murder in their eyes. Not to be outdone, a charge erupted from the South Roselin camp as well.
Then came the crash of collision. Hundreds of living creatures became lumps of meat in an instant.
Fifteen days since the war began.
Meaningless blood was soaking into the earth.
* * *
"Marquis Baikal, congratulations on this great victory."
"Congratulations."
As Marquis Helios Baikal, still clad in blood-soaked armor, dismounted and walked on, his adjutant, Baron Silen Bels, dismounted after him. Knights all around sang of their great victory and extolled Marquis Baikal.
"Huu."
Without even a thought of removing the armor smeared with gore, Marquis Baikal strode into the command tent, accompanied by Baron Bels.
"Well, did you capture him?"
"We did. He is being brought in under guard."
"Mm."
That day's battle had been the largest of the seven engagements so far. On the South Roselin side, more than three thousand had been killed and another six thousand gravely wounded. What could be called fortune was that reinforcements from Oman had recently arrived, and their combined strength had begun to overwhelm the North Roselin army outright.
For Marquis Baikal, that very point was cause for unease.
"Has there been any change in the enemy's disposition?"
"Not as of yet...."
Baron Bels's answer trailed off.
Even a rough tally of that day's battle made it clear that close to thirty thousand of the enemy had died or been wounded. Yet their ranks had still received no reinforcements. After fifteen days of war, the enemy strength remaining was less than thirty thousand. By rights this was the opportune moment to drive north, and even the South Roselin royal palace was issuing orders to advance with each passing day.
"Your Excellency! The prisoner is brought before you."
"Send him in."
At the voice from outside the tent, Marquis Baikal answered with a forceful tone. Despite the weariness of battle, the figure seated in the center of the tent did not look like a man approaching fifty years of age. Rather, he possessed a physique as solid as a commander in his twenties and eyes that overwhelmed everything around him.
War God of the East.
That was the epithet for Marquis Baikal.
Thump.
"Lift your head."
"......."
Stripped of his armor and forced to kneel, the North Roselin knight did not so much as react to Marquis Baikal's command.
'Hm?'
He was not refusing to move—he was trembling.
"Lift his head. Now!"
"Yes!"
Startled as Marquis Baikal's voice shook the tent, a knight approached the captured knight, seized his hair, and forced his head up.
"......!"
"Huh!"
Every eye in the tent went wide. Marquis Baikal rose from his seat and shouted to the soldiers outside.
"Bring every last corpse of the enemy knights here at once!"
"But, Your Excellency, that would violate the Continental War Treaty...."
"Move, at once. Before it's too late!"
"Yes!"
The knight, stunned by Marquis Baikal's roar, gave his answer and dashed out of the tent.
Even a defeated force had the right to recover the bodies of their fallen nobles and knights. That was the Continental War Treaty recognized across the entire land. But Marquis Baikal was intent on confirming something even at the cost of violating it. Before the enraged marquis knelt a child who looked barely fifteen, large of frame but a child all the same, trembling in fear. At a glance, he was at an age that would barely qualify for a squire.
"Surely not...."
"We'd better pray it isn't."
Baron Bels froze at Marquis Baikal's words. If this army was nothing but decoy troops dressed up to look formidable—
"An operation meant to bleed away our strength could...."
"Our forces are being replenished and morale keeps rising. Who would try such a thing?"
"Damn it!"
A curse exploded from Baron Bels's lips. The moment he realized where he was, he ducked his head and hastily apologized.
"My—my apologies."
"No. If our suspicion is truly correct, they are mad. Madmen who threw seventy thousand living souls into the fire as bait."
Marquis Baikal threw Baron Bels a wry smile and cursed alongside him. Frustrated thoughts were spinning in his head. His gaze fell on the prisoner cowering beside them, and Baron Bels, radiating murderous intent, seized him by the collar.
"You! What is your unit!"
"H-h-hiik! Please, spare me!"
Whack!
Crash-bang!
"Guhk! Just—just let me live, buhwuh-huh-huh!"
Baron Bels's face twisted as he flung the prisoner—who was shaking like an aspen leaf—to one side. Looking at the captive, now wetting himself and trembling violently, Baron Bels irritably called for the guard.
"Goddammit... Guard!"
"Here!"
"Drag this thing out and find out everything down to the number of hairs on his head! If you cut off his arms and legs just keep him alive."
"Hi-ii-iiik!"
As the prisoner was dragged away, Baron Bels and Marquis Baikal both found themselves praying that their imaginings would not prove to be true.