Pillars of the Dead
In the darkness, at the heart of the plain that brushed against the Imperial Army’s front line, Kar Tribe warriors stood in ranks and hung the heads of fallen Imperial soldiers onto poles one by one.
“Hurry. The beasts may come, drawn by the scent of blood.”
“Yes, understood.”
Blood dripped steadily from the cleanly severed necks, and the cold wind carried the reek of it far across the open ground.
Bowukartaon watched the scene in silence. His gaze never wavered; he regarded the cruelty as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
A moment later a warrior approached and bowed his head.
“Lord Bowukartaon. As you commanded, we have set them all up in a single line. Unless they are blind, there is no way they will fail to recognize them.”
Bowukartaon turned his eyes toward the Imperial camp. This would surely tear at their emotions. No matter how cold a commander pretended to be, none could remain unmoved after seeing his men’s heads displayed like this.
“Lay warriors in ambush around the area,” he said. “If they try to take the heads down, we strike at once.”
“But… they might simply pretend not to notice.”
Bowukartaon’s lips curved into a thin smile.
“Then they would be the sort who show their comrades no more respect than that.”
His cold stare remained fixed on the Imperial lines. Then he turned and walked away. In every step there lingered a strange weight of responsibility, thick with rage.
From now on… many things will change, Empire.
Victory would no longer be permitted to them. They would no longer be allowed to remain on this land.
He thought of Kortzan. Driven to the brink by successive defeats, the man was desperate, fire already at his feet.
Rather… this is a good situation for me.
In circumstances where he could only wait, this tension gave him the justification to move.
—We need a victory that can inflict real damage on them.
Kortzan had urged him again and again. Bowukartaon recalled the words as he glared into the empty air.
Come out soon… I will be waiting.
His eyes, fixed on the Imperial camp, settled into a blade-like coldness.
4th Battalion, 4th Company.
Tairen advanced toward the plain that held the Kar main force with every one of his one hundred fifty men. For open ground, there were more places to hide than expected. Using the terrain reports the reconnaissance unit had brought back, he kept his company as concealed as possible while they moved.
“Company Commander, from this point on the enemy is expected to have ambushes ready.”
“Fire.”
At Tairen’s word his adjutant Vengen struck flint to straw and kindled a small flame. Shielding it with one hand, he lit the map Tairen had drawn out. Tairen’s brow furrowed. The man was right; this was the place that demanded caution.
This is where the entire reconnaissance unit was wiped out.
The reports had spoken of a vicious archer.
Tairen turned and studied the surrounding ground, reconstructing the fight that must have happened here. Arrows screaming out of the dark—whoosh, swish, thwick. They had clearly been cut down before they could even respond.
In that case…
They would have had no choice but to fall back. Yet every last man who fled had died. Was that even possible?
Or did they create a situation that left no choice but to charge?
Tairen shook his head. That could never have happened. To report the situation, the soldiers would have chosen flight. Any commander leading a unit would have insisted on it. And yet the reconnaissance force had been annihilated here.
“It means they are the kind of bastards with the mobility to chase down and slaughter fleeing allies,” he muttered. “Or they anticipated the retreat and set an ambush in the rear from the start. Either way, they are no easy prey.”
Which was why—
I have to find them first.
The moment they were hit by a preemptive strike, they could end up exactly like the wiped-out scouts.
“Vengen, relay this to the platoon leaders. We will detour this way and strike the rear of wherever the enemy is likely to be.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to divide the force for that?”
“No. We do not divide. That only creates the chance of being defeated in detail.”
“Understood.”
Vengen turned and headed for the platoon officers. Alone, Tairen let out a quiet breath and stared forward. Darkness lay thick; visibility was almost nothing. Even after he enhanced his eyesight with mana, he could confirm little. Yet the senses he had honed through training were screaming a warning.
This place was dangerous.
…This will not be easy.
He turned. Since his company was entering through the center, the others would have been sent along different routes.
It would be nice if they drew attention first… but we are the bait.
This whole operation had been forced through by Hadmel for his own glory. Tairen remembered the major demanding the sortie and bit his lip hard. At first the man had compared him to Arteon and tried to scrape at his pride. Tairen was not the type to rise to that. A bruised ego was nothing more than a sour mood. But on a battlefield this dangerous, a single mistake could cost a man his head. Anyone could see the risk. He had refused.
Then Hadmel had played a card Tairen never expected.
—Then another commander will lead the 4th Company onto the battlefield.
He had been ready to shove the men—men as dear to Tairen as his own children—straight into a death trap. If he simply let them go, he could lose every last one of them. So Tairen had no choice but to move.
“…Hoo.”
He exhaled and walked to where the soldiers waited. Every face was grim; they knew by instinct how dangerous the situation was. As if he had never fretted alone, Tairen looked at them with a calm expression and spoke.
“We will make a wide detour to the left and check the enemy’s flank. Avoid a frontal clash as much as possible. If we are detected, keep low and find cover.”
What they had to fear most were the enemy’s arrows. An outstanding archer loosing shafts from the dark would be no different from the arrival of the god of death itself.
“We return before sunrise. Move quickly.”
No one answered aloud, but their eyes said enough. Tairen led them into the tallest underbrush he could find, keeping their bodies hidden. Then, at a certain point, the wind brought the smell of blood. His expression twisted slightly.
“Vengen, pick a few of the fastest men.”
“Yes.”
“The rest wait here.”
With the selected soldiers Tairen pushed forward at speed. That blood scent—had there been another battle? An ominous feeling swept through him. The thicker the reek became, the more strength poured into his legs and the faster he ran. When at last they reached the source—
“These fucking… bastards.”
Tairen could not hold back the curse as he stared at the long, straight line of “that.” Allied heads, stuck on poles as if someone had deliberately built a path on either side. Looking at the gruesomely severed faces, Vengen ground his teeth.
“Company Commander.”
“Wait. It could be a trap.”
Tairen spoke while forcing down his own rage, watching Vengen who looked ready to charge at any second. So that was the source of the crawling sensation along his spine.
These sons of bitches… they did this kind of shit…
A chill ran through him. For a moment even he had nearly lost control and rushed out to take the heads down. He crushed the fury again and gave the order.
“Pull the unit back at once and search the surroundings. Once we have confirmed whether the enemy is present… we will recover our comrades’ remains.”
“…Understood.”
Among the dead were men who had fought beside them for years in the north. Perhaps that was why Vengen had to remind himself of patience over and over as he obeyed.
They withdrew carefully. When Tairen looked at the company, he saw that word had already reached them; every man stared back with open rage.
“Everyone feels the same,” Tairen said. “But let the anger boil while you keep your heads cold. Remember that one mistake could put every one of us here in the same danger.”
No one spoke, yet the will of the unit was palpable. And as Tairen and his soldiers began to search the area—
“…Not a fool, I see.”
A man watching them turned his gaze to the warriors crouching in a line nearby.
“Prepare for battle. I will dye this place thick with the blood of the Imperial dogs.”
At Bowukartaon’s words the Kar warriors began to move with lethal speed.
Darkness lay thick across the plain. The Silent Spear unit ran stealthily through it. Cold wind brushed their cheeks; the crunch of snow under military boots filled the air. At the head of the column was Arteon, his eyes cutting through the dark as he stared ahead.
To think… it was that bastard.
When he had first seen the man in the tent, no memory had stirred—only a vague sense that he had glimpsed the face somewhere before. But on the way out of Velkain’s tent the recollections had surfaced. A thug who, with a central noble at his back, had thrown the northern front into chaos more than once. Because of that man’s incompetence, countless capable soldiers had died.
He stole the achievements his subordinates earned and paraded them as his own, racing down the road to promotion.
Much like Leorn Valtroon of the Northeastern 4th Defense Line, the front at Elbarphiel Lake. No—because the power behind this one was considerable, he was even worse.
That central noble… was one of those who had lined up with the First Prince, wasn’t he…?
He could not recall every detail, yet he was almost certain. In his past life Arteon had never cared about the structure of central power. Simply surviving each day had been hard enough; he had possessed no leisure to map such intrigues. But with the knowledge of this life he could see a little more clearly. The struggle between the First and Second Princes had dragged on so long precisely because more than a few rotten men had nested under the First Prince’s wing.
In the first place it is the Second Prince and his faction who are committing this kind of absurdity. If they had simply been punished, the fight would never have lasted so long.
All of them cared nothing for this land or the men who defended it, so long as their own interests were served.
Arteon’s eyes flashed. Thinking of the man made irritation rise, yet that was not what mattered now. Because of the reckless operation that bastard had forced through, the soldiers of the 4th Battalion’s 4th Company could be in danger.
Tairen, was it.
He had heard the name—both in his past life and in this one. A soldier of outstanding ability. He must not be lost.
“Commander, we have almost reached the destination.”
“Keep this in mind. Our mission is only to support the 4th Company. Refrain from any rash movement.”
“Understood.”
Arteon looked ahead into the darkness. Beyond it, something moved—faint, yet unmistakable. He drew on mana and sharpened every sense. The black veil over his vision thinned, and on the wind came something familiar.
At the same instant—
“…!”
Arteon’s eyes shook hard.