The Fractured Balance
It was a night of deep darkness.
The lingering echoes of the battlefield drifted in slowly on the wind from afar.
Shards of shattered armor and blood-soaked banners tumbled through the dust, weaving a strangely eerie atmosphere.
Rustle.
In a tent at the rear of the camp, where almost no light reached, a group of men gathered in secret.
Before them a single faint lantern swayed; even that they huddled close around so that not a scrap of light would leak out.
“Our forces are… stronger than I expected.”
A man in a black hood spoke in a low voice.
The one opposite him nodded and continued.
“By numbers alone we should be at a far greater disadvantage… yet yesterday’s battle saw the Kar completely on the back foot, did it not?”
“Indeed… a renowned general is a renowned general after all. Benhard’s Ogre looks to be a major variable.”
At those words every gaze turned as one toward the man in the center.
An expressionless face, a thick beard, and eyes that still gleamed even in the dark.
He remained silent at his subordinates’ words, lost in deep thought.
The silence stretched long, until the flame flickered in the wind and lit his face.
“Evenly matched forces, you say.”
He opened his mouth.
Then he shook his head.
“No. Rather, those who know the terrain well hold the greater advantage. That is precisely why they launched a preemptive strike from the hills in the first place.”
“But… in the end our side won, did we not?”
“At this rate we might completely drive the Kar back tomorrow.”
The subordinates offered cautious rebuttals. The results of the earlier battle were already clear, after all.
Yet the man who seemed to be their leader shook his head once more.
“We achieved results, true enough, but the wounded are far more numerous than expected. If the next battle follows straight on tomorrow, we will not be able to fight as aggressively as we did today.”
His gaze drifted beyond the tent, into the distant darkness.
“Moreover… there was clearly a point where the balance broke. Someone intervened, and one side completely collapsed.”
In that instant the air inside the tent froze cold.
The subordinates spoke.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Without someone’s special performance, it was a fight we could never have won in the first place. If we carefully touch only that point, no variables will arise.”
Yet it was a method that carried far too great a risk.
A means to be considered only as a last resort.
The man who appeared to be the leader rose from his seat.
The metal of his armor creaked.
He looked at one of his subordinates and asked,
“How much supply have we secured at present?”
“We can easily last half a month.”
“And the rear supply lines?”
At the man’s question the subordinate answered at once.
“We have already taken care of them. There is no need for concern.”
At that reply the man closed his eyes for a moment, then allowed a subtle smile to touch his lips.
But soon he fixed a piercing gaze on empty air and spoke.
“Half a month… far too much leeway.”
His voice settled cold and sharp as a blade.
If that leeway were stripped away…
Our forces would no longer be able to advance.
When he fell silent, every subordinate held their breath.
At length he stepped toward the tent’s entrance and said to them,
“For now we watch the situation. Until orders come down, stick strictly to the tasks you have been given and move in secret.”
“Understood.”
“Yes, sir.”
With their replies the lantern was snuffed out with a soft puff.
Outside, morning light was slowly spreading across the blood-soaked earth.
On the plain of Belikezel, where the stench of the battlefield still hung thick, they vanished in an instant with the breaking of dawn, as though they had never been there at all.
And so the second day arrived.
The Belikezel Plain.
Heavy clouds blanketed the sky, and the wind cut sharp.
The air that pressed down upon the battlefield was a mingling of blood, smoke, and the dry scent of earth that clung to the snow-covered ground.
Velkain stood at the heart of his soldiers and surveyed the field.
A heavy gaze that took in the entire battlefield.
Without the slightest tremor it pierced through the Kar camp on the far side.
After staring long at the front, Velkain spoke for the first time.
“How is the condition of the men?”
A voice sharp enough to cleave the battlefield itself.
Claw, standing beside him, answered.
“The seriously wounded are receiving treatment at the rear of the camp. Among the lightly wounded, those unable to fight have been assigned to carry supplies or to non-combat duties.”
“Hmm…”
As Claw’s report continued, Velkain gave a short nod.
Before long his gaze returned to the distant Kar lines.
On the opposite side, Kar warriors already packed the hilltop so densely they seemed to fill it, preparing for battle.
Yet there was none of the mad frenzy of the day before.
Yesterday’s defeat had driven a proper dagger into their hearts.
Perhaps… something to be thankful for.
When one held the initiative, the range of choices available widened considerably—a substantial tactical advantage.
Velkain drew a slow breath.
“Conserve the cavalry. Advance with the shield-bearers in the lead and pressure them.”
And place the archer units at the rear.
Whether the enemy came first or they themselves closed the distance…
“The moment they enter range, attack all at once.”
“I will relay it to each unit immediately.”
The instant Velkain’s order fell, Claw bowed his head and hurried away.
His movements were busier than usual.
The reason was simple.
They already knew spies existed within their own camp; holding a prior strategy meeting risked the plans leaking.
Some officers found the situation distasteful, yet none were bold enough to question Velkain’s final decision.
“Relay the orders!”
“Shield-bearers to the front! Move to the front!”
“Heavy shield infantry, advance to the front!”
Heavy infantry gripping great tower shields hurried into position.
Soon they filled the vanguard and raised their shields.
Clack! Clack!
From the enemy’s perspective it would feel like a crushing weight upon the chest.
Then Velkain spoke.
“Advance.”
“Advance! Advance!”
“Advance! Move the army!”
Commanders waved their banners and shouted; messengers galloped through the formation to deliver the orders.
Buuuuuuuuuuuuu!
A massive trumpet blast rolled across the plain, and the Imperial soldiers began to move as one.
Whoosh!
In an instant the battlefield ignited.
Tension crushed their shoulders; hearts began to pound madly.
The battle of the day before slammed through their minds, cells waking as if from sleep.
“Raise shields! We advance!”
Clack! Clack! Clack! Clack! Clack!
Measured footsteps.
The movement of a trained regular army alone was enough to plant pressure in the enemy’s hearts.
The soldiers at the front gripped their long tower shields with both hands; the archer units stationed in the rear already held arrows ready in their right hands.
And the moment the central force began to move—
“…Where is he.”
Kortzan, at the rear of the Kar camp, muttered low.
His gaze swept not only the Imperial center but the endless left and right flanks as well.
He was searching for the demon-like bastard who had broken him the day before, somewhere out there.
“….”
Bandages wrapped his left shoulder and right arm, yet he scoured the battlefield as fiercely as a beast hunting its prey.
But then—
“Today is not your place to step forward. Hold your position and simply watch.”
At the quiet voice from beside him, Kortzan turned.
Inside the command wagon, Krelmuk, half-reclining, turned his eyes toward Kortzan.
“Focus on healing by circulating your mana. You cannot mend the wounds at once, but you can raise the body’s recovery.”
“But if I do that…”
“Today there will be no place for you. There is someone who must repay the debt of yesterday.”
With those words Krelmuk’s gaze shifted elsewhere.
Kortzan looked with him.
“….”
The man who entered Kortzan’s sight was an old warrior whose face was carved with patterns of blood, staring forward with a murderous glare.
The father of Heritikan, slain by Arteon the day before… Herkan Belot.
A proud daughter born late in life.
A father clumsy with emotion who never showed it outwardly, yet who had always taken pride and joy in her bravery.
But yesterday his world had shattered.
At the sight of Heritikan’s wretched remains he had howled through the night.
That beast-like wailing…
Still rings in my ears.
Kortzan swallowed hard and nodded.
“Understood.”
Age had long since robbed him of the full power of his prime, yet the leadership he possessed and his ability to read a battlefield remained outstanding even within the tribe.
Today’s battlefield…
Would be fiercer than yesterday’s…
And much blood will flow.
Kortzan held his breath and watched the field.
And then—
Buuuuuuuuuuuuu!
Unlike the day before, the Imperial army moved first.
Clack! Clack! Clack!
Each step they took felt like a wall advancing of its own accord.
Yet Herkan at the front simply glared at them in silence.
Rage that looked ready to charge at any moment burned in his expression, but—
“….”
He waited in silence for the Imperial advance.
“…Resorting to such an obvious, shallow trick.”
Then Herkan turned his head toward Krelmuk.
At that gaze Krelmuk nodded.
And in that very moment—
“Clean out every last one of the Empire’s vermin! Kill them all!”
“Uwaaaaaaaaaaa!”
“Kill them all!”
The Kar warriors at the front charged as one toward the Imperial soldiers.
In some ways the situation was little different from yesterday.
From the Empire’s perspective it was even easier to handle.
But then—
Dudududududududu!
Suddenly a vibration rose from the ground, and a strange sound began to approach from afar.
“W-what?”
“What is that sound?”
For the ground itself to tremble this violently…
Completely unexpected, the advancing Imperial soldiers wore expressions of confusion.
The commanders directing them were no different.
Yet as the sound grew louder they turned their eyes toward its source.
And…
“…What is that.”
Seeing the something that had suddenly appeared, they muttered in dazed disbelief.