Signal Flare in the Mist
Thick fog blanketed the front, mingling with waist-high undergrowth until even a single step ahead vanished from sight.
Silence hung heavy over the place. A band of warriors checked their weapons between ragged breaths. Unable to risk a campfire for fear of discovery, the Kar tribesmen endured the cold as best they could.
At their center, Ulgraak sat astride a boulder, staring into the murk ahead.
“Will this be all right?”
A low voice. Footsteps approached from behind as his deputy, Moldur, drew near. The man’s eyes flickered with unease as he spoke carefully.
“Our main force is already hard-pressed. Casualties have left us short of warriors. Sending more than a hundred of them out as a strike force in a situation like this… I can’t help thinking the decision is too reckless.”
Moldur laid his thoughts bare without reservation. Ulgraak slowly lifted his head and fixed him with a gaze. His bloodshot eyes flashed as if they could pierce straight through a man.
“The Empire dogs would never advance without intelligence,” Ulgraak said with absolute certainty. “They’ll send scouts to learn our positions and our plans.”
The reason was simple. Until now the enemy had never pushed this far. At best they had seized the southern tip of the lake and crowed about it. The ground Ulgraak’s warriors now held was the key to complete control of Elbarphiel Lake’s southern reaches. From here they could even drive straight toward the upper lake. It was a vital strongpoint for the Kar as well—and precisely because of that, the Empire would be anxious.
“They’ve never set foot here, so they know nothing of the terrain. If they advance without scouting parties… they’ll only repeat the massacre of the past.”
That was why he had formed the strike force and focused it on cutting down the Imperial scouts. As Moldur said, the main camp was short of men. Yet he had still sent the force out.
“Because that is the most important operation we have right now.”
“……”
Moldur fell silent. He understood the meaning, yet if the enemy simply ignored the scouts and marched straight here…
“The strike force we sent forward can do nothing then. They can’t strike the Imperial main body.”
In that case they would only waste their strength, leaving them unable to fight properly when the real battle came. But at those words Ulgraak rose to his feet. The sheer presence of the man standing was enough to make Moldur swallow hard without realizing it.
“Moldur, do not doubt. The Empire’s army as it stands now… will never move that way.”
“……Sir?”
At Moldur’s question Ulgraak closed his eyes. What flashed through his mind were the Imperial soldiers who had ambushed them only a short while ago. One among them in particular. His face had been remarkably young, yet the way he wielded a spear was sharper than anyone’s, and his eyes had been those of a beast. In truth, his skill had been nearly equal to Ulgraak’s own. That single fact was enough to say the Empire’s forces had become something entirely different from before.
“Forget the faces of every enemy we have fought until now.”
Ulgraak’s voice rolled low.
“We must be cautious beyond caution. A single moment of carelessness will take our heads.”
His hand clenched hard around the axe haft resting across his knee. The pounding of his pulse and the solid weight of the blade in his fingers pulled him back to the present.
“If those bastards charge in here without even scouting…”
Ulgraak slowly turned his gaze toward the fog-choked darkness beyond.
“Then this place will become their grave.”
Silence. Within it Moldur simply nodded. He trusted Ulgraak. Yet even so, Ulgraak felt an inexplicable, crawling sensation run down his spine.
“……”
It was too clear to dismiss as mere anxiety. He could not grasp its shape, yet the unease forced him to steel his heart again and again.
It’s already… begun.
This was a fight that could no longer be turned back. Whoever lost this battle would never rise again.
Perhaps that was why he asked,
“When are the warriors expected to arrive?”
“Considering the distance… another five days at least.”
“……I see.”
Ulgraak shifted his gaze. If they could hold for that long, the warriors sent from the north would reach them. Political complications might follow, but—
At least we can hold this place for certain.
Five days…
Ulgraak’s eyes rested quietly on the darkness beyond the fog.
Dense gray fog rolled down the hills, swallowing everything in its path. On the opposite side a man watched the same stretch of ground. Hadel let out a long breath.
“Haa…”
Locate the enemy and grasp their situation within a mere three days. In the present circumstances it was all but impossible. He bit his lip, desperation darkening his eyes.
After all the trouble it took to seize this chance…
If they approached with just a little more caution, a great victory was possible. No—something that had never happened on the Fourth Defense Line might even occur.
—In three days we move the army again. Remember that.
Leorn’s voice, driving the nail home before he left, still rang in Hadel’s ears. The words tightened around his throat like a rope of ice.
Hadel looked down at the map he carried. The direction the scouts had taken was marked only faintly even on the chart—rough indications of hills and terrain, nothing more. No detailed map existed. No proper reconnaissance had ever been sent there before. That was why they had to move only after securing solid intelligence.
He clenched his fist and stared forward. For now all he could do was wait for the scouts to return.
Then—
“……?”
A commotion rose from the front of the unit. An uneasy chill ran down his spine, and his steps quickened toward the sound.
“What’s going on!”
By the time he arrived, a blood-soaked soldier was being supported by others. His legs below the knees were already soaked red; one eye was swollen shut. At the sound of Hadel’s voice the man gritted his teeth and lifted his head. He was one of the scouts Hadel had sent out.
“……Company Commander.”
His voice cracked, blood flecking the end of every word. Yet he forced out the report with the last of his will.
“Our operation… seems to have been exposed.”
“What?”
Hadel’s face hardened in an instant. The soldier continued.
“They… already held the choke points. As if they knew we were coming… an ambush—khhk!”
He coughed up blood and swayed. The medic beside him hurriedly laid him down and began binding the wounds. Even so the fallen soldier kept speaking.
“O-of our team… I’m the only one left alive… I don’t know about the other scout parties. But… I believe quite a few soldiers are still alive.”
His vision was already blurring, yet the light in his eyes refused to die. He had risked everything to bring this news back from the brink. With those final words his head dropped and consciousness fled.
The medic pressed an ear to the left side of the man’s chest.
“He’s alive.”
“Get him treated at once. Hurry!”
“Yes, sir!”
Once the scout was carried away, Hadel stood for a long moment staring at the bloodstains soaking the ground. Cold sweat slid down his spine. From beyond the fog no sound reached his ears.
“……Sergeant Volgren.”
“Sir.”
“Form an emergency strike force. If the enemy is hunting us, our men are in danger.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to report to the commander and move the main force?”
“Don’t talk nonsense. Do you mean to get the entire main force killed?”
Hadel’s voice was iron. This was something he had to resolve himself. The wrong approach would bring losses beyond imagining.
“Prepare at once.”
“……Understood.”
Volgren sprinted off. Hadel turned his head and gazed into the fog. The battlefield where even sight could not be trusted had begun to look like the gates of hell.
Shhhk! Thud!
A dull impact made Erukaron’s body jerk. He stared in disbelief at the spear that had punched clean through his chest.
“How……”
He had not been careless. Having clearly seen the man’s skill—equal to a Taman’s—two warriors bearing two tattoos each had launched a joint assault. A surprise attack, no less. Yet the ambush failed, and he had not even managed a proper counter before—
Thud.
Erukaron died with his eyes still open, as if unable to accept it. Arteon flicked the blood from his spear tip and looked to Grein.
“Report.”
“All enemies eliminated. Not a single casualty on our side. But Platoon Leader… how did you know?”
“I once heard of enemies who used a similar method—luring and then ambushing. We got lucky.”
“……”
It did not feel like something that could be dismissed as mere luck. Grein wanted to ask more, yet he stayed silent and simply watched his commander.
Just then—
Fwoosh!
A sharp whistle cut the air as a pure white flash tore through the fog and soared skyward. A signal flare. The distress flare issued to scout units. For scouts whose lives depended on stealth, it was the absolute last resort. Launching one meant they already stood on the edge of death.
Grein whipped his head around.
“Platoon Leader.”
Arteon lifted his gaze and quietly watched the light blooming high above. The flare wavered and faded between the curtains of mist.
“……Looks like the other groups aren’t faring much better.”
His tone was calm, yet a heavy weight rode beneath the words. The eyes of the platoon members wavered. Someone swallowed hard; another clenched his spear until his knuckles whitened. Hearts still hammered from the fight just finished.
Arteon looked over his men.
“……The situation has already broken open.”
His voice was low but unyielding.
“If we pull back from here, we can certainly keep our own lives.”
His eyes flashed. Resolve and fire burned within them.
“But if we fall back, every man who fired that flare dies. Our comrades who fought beside us are dying out there. We can’t just turn around to save our own skins, can we?”
“……You’re right.”
“Well said, Platoon Leader.”
“We’ll follow you.”
Grein and the other squad leaders spoke one after another. The rest of the platoon, in silence, each hardened their own resolve. Arteon nodded. Then he turned his gaze and quietly gave the order.
“Maintain defensive formation and move toward the flare. Slow the pace if you must, but do not break ranks.”
Arteon’s voice was steel. Even the fog trailing behind them seemed to still.
And with that command—
Dash!
The soldiers of the Third Platoon raced toward the direction where the signal flare had burst.