The Iron-Cutting Knight
They finished dinner and cleaned up. Digging a hole, burying all the utensils, and covering it with dirt was the end of it. If there had been water nearby to wash them, they would have cleaned and reused them. But the accessible water sources had dwindled. Until yesterday, they could scavenge discarded waterskins from the city, but after that dawn encounter, getting near the walls had become difficult. No point provoking them unnecessarily.
The utensils, at least, could be supplemented with those abandoned outside the walls—a small mercy.
Bayola sat side by side with Marhal to study the ancient imperial tongue and grumbled.
"I wanna wash up so bad... Should've done it yesterday if I knew."
"Even if we had enough water, where would we wash? And then put on the same dirty underwear? The bathroom too..."
"Stop right there!" Bayola shouted.
Their living area centered around the campfire. A metal rod for hanging the pot stood beside it, with stacks of gathered dry firewood and well-dried hides nearby. And off at a distance was the latrine. There were three women in the group, and no nearby bushes to hide in. They'd stripped cloth from discarded flags to make poles, weaving more cloth into a square privacy screen. That was their bathroom.
Every time a signal tugged at her gut, Bayola fought the urge to bite her tongue.
She pouted, picked up a small twig from the firewood pile, and scratched letters into the dirt.
"Let's start with reading. You know a bunch of languages, right? Memorizing's your strong suit?"
"Heard the genius label a few times since I was a kid."
"Reading's not hard. But ancient imperial's tricky—even knowing how to read it, you can't always."
"Isn't that contradictory?"
"Tons of exceptions. In a ten-word sentence, figure half are exceptions."
"They made a language just to screw with people?"
"That's why it became the tongue of Bachea imperial authority. The harder it is, the more impressive the user looks. And if others see you as great, you actually become great."
"History, huh."
"Exactly. The 'Bachea royals are great' history made them truly great. They say many were born with special talents or abilities. Probably a key reason the Bachea Empire endured."
"Like your physical prowess?"
"If it's greatness from five hundred years of calculated history, it probably dwarfs someone like me."
Bayola had been born with superhuman physique. Her siblings each had some unique trait setting them apart. The Muet Empire hadn't been called an empire for even a century yet. Before that, Muet wasn't anything special. The founder, Viktorma Muesilrigo I, must have been a master builder. And the current emperor, Viktorma Muesilrigo II, had records noting his extraordinary nature from childhood.
Put another way: aside from those two, none of the royals or nobles back then stood out. It was from her era that imperial bloodlines began producing innate talents.
Bayola's gift rendered a knight's decade of training—or someone's lifetime—meaningless. That was the power drawn from Muet Empire history.
"Rumors say Bachea emperors commanded storms. What about that?"
"I'd have called it nonsense before... but with four humans conquering nature, who knows. Done. These are the characters used in ancient imperial."
"Not that many, huh?"
Bayola had scratched out just over thirty into the dirt.
"Told you—reading's easy. But the exceptions per usage? That's where it changes."
"Teach me already."
"First, how to read..."
Bayola looked up and fell silent. Her lips had gone noticeably blue, her shoulders trembling.
Marhal followed her gaze.
Far off—at a distance where ordinary eyes would see only a hazy blur—a group of fewer than ten knights rode on horseback. Precisely eight.
Marin, whom Strekl was training, noticed from their reactions.
"My instincts say don't fight. Haven't felt this since facing that horde of ten thousand demons head-on."
Just seeing them made his hand drift toward his sword. Instinct whispered: Fight and die.
"Wild Dog Knight Order Captain Cliff. Knighted by His Majesty himself. An iron-cutting knight."
Iron-cutting knight. Before him, even Strekl's prized full plate armor was rags.
"A damn big fish. Land race?"
"Doubt it. No gear for that. No flags either. And a busy captain coming west for kids' squabbles? Northern Granary, maybe."
"A monster with unknown motives. Potential threat? Worse than that stone-cutting knight over there."
Know the goal, and you can sidestep. Unknown? You never know when or where you'll clash. If their paths crossed...
Wipeout.
No winning strategy came to mind. The one wildcard was Marhal, but even he seemed unlikely to handle an iron-cutting knight.
"I think I know their goal."
"The emperor's direct knights'?"
"We met one too. Someone deliberately sealed demons. Could be discoveries elsewhere."
"Demons returning...?"
Strekl swallowed hard. Demons corrupted nearby life into more demons. Witnessing it explained how one devoured half the world in no time. A single demon could multiply endlessly.
The Demon King was dead, all demons gone—or so the story went. But Strekl had seen otherwise with his own eyes. If any lingered, the nightmare of ten years ago could replay anytime.
"Last time, it stopped at the western continent. This time? Empire takes the hit direct. Their shield-states are gone or crumbling."
Pubguk was one, but many nations had fought demons. Some teetered on collapse, others renamed in defeat. Ten years was too short to recover from total war.
Another? Even Pubguk wouldn't hold. The bystander Empire and Holy Empire would face the demon plague at their borders.
Strekl gave a cynical laugh. "Hope they do return. Pubguk that ditched me crumbles, Empire pays for sitting out. And I get to be a hero again."
War's end discarded war heroes. New war? Nations would beg him, Pubguk or not.
"Empire won't let that happen. If they don't burn innocents alive, lucky us."
"No way they'd..."
"They induce hemophobia in kids not even wielding swords to keep them in check—and the emperor just watches. What's he incapable of?"
"Uh..."
As imperial princess, she should defend the Empire. But she'd seen, heard, endured too much to speak easily. She'd desperately hidden her hemophobia, but her siblings' open sabotage and the vicious rumors? Father knew. He must have, fanning the flames with talk of the throne going to whoever uncovered most Bachea secrets.
"See? Empire's got sins aplenty."
Marhal grinned infuriatingly.
A day passed. The subordinates sent in all directions returned. Their news was despairing.
Kaban, truly baffled, asked again. "Can't plant a single flag? Not one spot?"
"We could if we tried. But holding it against surveyors arriving anytime? Tough."
"Kalraens Duke's knights can't guard one flag?"
"Plant one, and flag-owners from other directions sabotage it."
"Us too."
"Like they got identical orders."
Thud!
Kaban slammed his rock seat. "They knew we'd come and preempted?"
"But is that even possible?"
One knight asked. The others felt the same. They'd seized the city, tried talks within a day. Thoroughly cleared it inside. No way word of Kalraens Duke's knights owning it had spread.
"Over ten factions eyeing the city. Winners'll be groups, not loners. They planned for that. Any org taking it gets the same treatment."
"So fight? Against iron-cutting knights?"
Strekl never claimed to be one. But Kaban's offhand guess right after meeting him had cemented the assumption among Kaban's men. Self-dug grave, sure—but with a mage, armored knight, and noble in the weird crew, it fit.
Kaban rubbed his eyes. The sunken sockets shadowed deeper with fatigue and worry.
Blocked every way. Now he grasped the mage's—Marhal's—initial proposal: We'll yield the city. Acknowledge our flags on this land.
Far off, three knights overdue for rendezvous dashed over rubble.
"Captain! Owl! Owl took a flag and bolted! Two corpses at the join point!"
"Worst case."
Caught proper in the mage's spell. A few words sowed distrust, birthed a traitor. One betrayal makes the next easier.
"To the mage. Ready the horses."
Before more succumbed to temptation, set a firm course.
Not long after Kaban and his men departed, eight knights entered the city from the west.
"No signs of life. Fled?"
"Saw Kalraens Duke's stone-haulers. Probably finished fighting, cleaning up."
"Whole order vacated the holdings?"
"West is alien soil. Discard old logic."
"Understood. Then?"
"Wait for return. If real trouble... Gifting the land to His Majesty ain't bad."
Wild Dog Knight Order Captain Cliff and his men entered the ownerless city.