Short Story: The Black Knight and the Sacrificial Fort

Jerome Jean de Beilschmidt had dark hair and dark eyes. He rode a black horse, wore black armor, and was undefeated on the battlefield. Those who had seen him or heard talk of his accomplishments knew him as the man who struck fear into the hearts of all men, whether they were friend or foe. They knew him as the revered Black Knight.

Imperial Year 851, July 1st—

A detachment of the Fourth Army departed for an eastern fort with the remnants of the Seventh Army. They numbered thirteen thousand in total, which was impressive for a military force, but nowhere near enough to support the eastern front. Brigadier General Coignièra commanded eight thousand soldiers of the Seventh Army, Lieutenant General Benjamin led the forty-five hundred remnants of the Second Army, while Major General Jerome headed the five hundred horsemen of the Black Knight Brigade.

The sun made its way toward the western horizon as the soldiers proceeded along a road through the trees. A newly appointed knight rode up beside Jerome’s black horse at the head of the stretched-out formation.

“Life sure is full of twists and turns...”

Jerome scoffed at the muttering knight, one Holger Orjes. “Are you complaining to me?” he asked.

“Not at all. Those are my honest thoughts, is all. I never thought I would ride my horse alongside a Belgarian hero such as yourself—or have my own subordinates, for that matter.”

“Funny how things work out.”

“Just half a year ago, I was a mercenary working for Varden, stationed at Fort Volks.”

Before the Beilschmidt border regiment had captured the impregnable fortress, Holger had been taken prisoner for information. Then, after the fortress was taken, he had been among those who requested to change sides. Granted, Varden might have hanged a mercenary whose loyalty was already suspect...

“Trash or not, I’ll make use of anyone with value,” Jerome replied simply. He had no interest in where the man was from.

Holger chuckled. “Well, the old commanders are no longer with the unit. I understand that I’m only here because you’re shorthanded.” Krueger had died in battle, and Abidal-Evra was protecting the princess, so it was true that the army was in need of capable commanders.

“We’ve replenished our numbers. Problem is, they’re all trash,” Jerome spat.

“When I was surrounded by barbarians, I was prepared to be skinned and eaten alive...” Holger remarked with a shrug.

“You must’ve fallen into Regis’s trap.”

“Indeed. He got me hook, line, and sinker. It used to frustrate me, but I’ve since gotten over it.”

“Oh?”

“I witnessed his battles against the Empire’s First Army and the High Britannian Royal Army firsthand. An oil-drenched field set ablaze, ships weaponized with gunpowder, a cavalry charge through the thick fog... I know now that I must have been blessed by the god of good fortune. My fate could have been much, much worse.”

There was definite truth to Holger’s words—not all those on the receiving end of the tactician’s schemes had been fortunate enough to walk away with their lives.

“Well, I can’t stand it,” Jerome grumbled. “A war is best won with a formidable foe at the end of your lance. Regis’s plans better resemble the work of a con artist.”

“Aha... In any case, I was thinking about how peculiar this whole situation is, especially for a failed knight such as myself.”

Despite having been born into a knightly house, Holger ended up a mercenary at twenty years of age when his homeland fell to one of Germania’s many civil wars. The commander training he had undergone had given him an advantage, since he was able to lead men, and the many places he had traveled to as a mercenary had made him more collected and experienced than many soldiers in the Belgarian Army. Jerome was not one to give out praise, but talented commanders were extremely valuable. The tough life that Holger spoke of was a fortunate thing for the regiment.

Holger pointed ahead. “I see walls, Sir Jerome.”

“Hmm...”

“That must be Marschtedt, the fortified city serving as the headquarters of the eastern front.”

It was a beautiful walled city situated among an expanse of wheat fields. Both the ramparts and the fortress itself were made of white stone, a specialty of the region, and they towered as high as one would expect of a stronghold made to endure battle after battle. It may not have been as magnificent as Fort Volks, but it was large enough to house around forty thousand soldiers and a hundred thousand civilians.

“The ground is level enough that we can use our horses to the fullest,” Jerome noted.

“My understanding is that the Seventh Army specializes in close-formation charges. We can use that to our advantage here.”

To these two men of war, the city’s beautifully maintained fields were nothing more than another battlefield to conquer.

✧ ✧ ✧

The unit arrived at the fortress just before sunset, and a war council was held prior to dinner. Their seating arrangement around the long table was based on rank, for what it was worth. Benjamin was seated farther back than anyone else, with his younger brother and adjutant, Justin, to his right. Next was Coignièra, who had effectively become the commander of the Seventh Army. Jerome was keeping as far away from the others as he could, with Holger tagging along as his deputy officer.

“First, let us go over the state of our army.”

Coignièra was the first to speak, having opted to take charge of the meeting. He had once been a narrow-minded man who had spoken cynically when sent as a messenger to the Beilschmidt border regiment. It seemed that he had grown somewhat after experiencing a nightmarish defeat, being shouldered with the responsibility of commanding the Seventh Army and taking part in a battle where the very fate of the Empire was at stake.

Far from his previous arrogance, Coignièra now exuded a far more composed air. His new demeanor made him seem somewhat similar to Regis; indeed, even the way he passed out his premade documents and the gestures he made as he explained them closely resembled the tactician. Perhaps he had come to respect the nation’s hero.

“The Seventh Army kept five thousand soldiers here in Marschtedt before joining the fight against the High Britannians. Two thousand are at this fort, while the remaining three thousand are at other key points. We have with us an additional thirteen thousand. Now, considering that the Seventh Army originally marched out with twenty-one thousand, this is quite the decrease...but I think we have just barely enough to hold the line. There are eight thousand foot soldiers of the Seventh Army, forty-five hundred under Sir Benjamin—”

“Incompetent lout,” Jerome snarled. “You lost more men.”

“N-No, we were taken by surprise in unfamiliar lands...” Benjamin stammered, nervously dabbing at his brow with a handkerchief. His infantry unit had fallen victim to an attack by an unknown enemy during the march, ultimately costing him close to a thousand soldiers. Not all of these men had died; many were just injured and would recover eventually, but it was accurate to say that they no longer had access to around twenty percent of their available forces.

“Hmph. How many times did Regis warn you of an ambush there?” Jerome asked, his voice taking on a more mocking tone. “You can hardly call it a surprise attack given how much you were cautioned.”

In an unfortunate development, the tactician’s advice had fallen on deaf ears. Benjamin had received the information, but he hadn’t understood how to prepare for it accordingly.

“Now, now...” Coignièra intervened, trying to mediate. “Let’s just be more cautious henceforth.”

“Tsk...”

It was frustrating to say the least, but there was nobody else around capable of commanding forty-five hundred soldiers. Jerome’s subordinates could command perhaps one or two hundred at most; their voices would never reach more than a thousand. By that point, the forces in question were no longer a group but an organization. Regis was special in that he could seemingly cope no matter how many soldiers he was given. Jerome could not entrust the job to anyone who had not received special education, and incompetent as he was, Benjamin was a noble who had received formal training as a commander.

“Benjamin.” Jerome made sure that each syllable of the man’s name was spoken with perfect clarity, as if wanting to carve each one into his head. “Your rank came with your peerage. Throw away any conceit you had as a lieutenant general this very instant. You must be aware of your own incompetence. Follow orders.”

“What?! But...”

“You’re the highest-ranked person here and the most incompetent. We stood on the same battlefield, yet you were the only one to lose soldiers.”

“Urgh...”

“Coignièra is more familiar with the terrain here, while I’m better at moving troops. As for you...”

“I may have lost soldiers, but military regulations state—”

“Regulations that lose us wars can eat shit. Flaunt your undeserved rank again and you can say farewell to that irksome hair of yours!”

“‘Undeserved’?! Such insolence toward your commanding officer!”

Jerome swung his left arm with such speed that no other man in the room was able to follow it. Only when they heard the dull thud of a dagger stabbing into the far wall did they realize what had just happened, and as for Benjamin...

“Waaah?!”

The blade had grazed his head, leaving a bald streak in its wake.

“Heed my warning—once you’ve got no more hair to cut, I’ll go for your neck,” Jerome growled, staring at Benjamin with the sharp eyes of a hungry wolf. “Watch your tongue.”

“Grr... This is insurrection!”

“Hmph. If you want an insurrection, I’ll gladly oblige.”

“Y-You may have the Black Knight Brigade, but we outnumber you tenfold.”

A devilish grin played on Jerome’s lips. “I won’t even need my brigade. Are you going to send out an order to kill the Black Knight over a personal grudge? Just try it and see who the men point their spears at.” Soldiers were far from being obedient chess pieces; they could disobey unreasonable orders, and many saw no merit in serving a commander who continued to fail. Before Benjamin could retort, however, Holger raised a hand.

“My apologies, but...the order that our commander Marie Quatre Argentina received was for the Fourth Army to support the Seventh. In which case, doesn’t that place us under the command of the Seventh Army?”

“Hmm...” Benjamin’s expression turned pensive. The blood was rushing to his head, but he understood that crossing swords with the Black Knight himself was a death wish. He needed an escape that would preserve his honor, and this was precisely that. “C-Certainly. It is just as the knight says: Her Highness’s will is absolute. I will entrust our policies to Sir Coignièra.”

“Thank you,” Coignièra said with an appreciative nod.

Jerome let out a tired sigh, unable to see the knight as anything more than a buffoon. What point was there in saving face when nobody else was present? Benjamin was a stereotypical high noble; he instinctively valued authority over logic.

Coignièra may not have been anywhere near as skilled as that tactician, but he was no fool—he knew that a war could not be won on authority alone, and he was smart enough to suspect a surprise attack. With that in mind, no matter the particulars of their circumstances, he was safer having Benjamin under his command than not.

✧ ✧ ✧

Coignièra spread a map over the table before lining it with wooden pieces. “As I’m sure you’re aware, tensions are escalating on the eastern front,” he said. “Our neighbors were always ready to invade if we provided so much as the slightest opportunity. We’ve had a number of minor engagements these past few years, although we achieved a tentative truce when His Majesty married the princess of Estaburg.”

There were many suspicious details surrounding the sudden death of Sixth Consort Juhaprecia Octovia, so it stood to reason that Estaburg was especially raring to fight. Presumably, the force that had attacked Benjamin’s unit was under their employ.

Jerome glared at the map. “What are we working with here?”

“There are two thousand soldiers of the Seventh Army stationed in Marschtedt. The outer walls are sturdy and armed with plenty of mounted arbalests alongside a limited number of cannons. We have enough stockpiled to sustain thirty thousand soldiers and fifty thousand civilians for half a year. We can draw water from the well and reservoir within the city, and our combat supplies encompass more than just weapons and oil—we have books and instruments as well.”

Jerome nodded. “Not bad.” Their forces totaled the two thousand stationed there plus the thirteen thousand they had brought with them. He was personally against passive strategies like waiting out a siege, but he would do what was necessary, and their preparations seemed sufficient. His eyes shifted toward the enemy.

“There are many small nations dotting the east,” Coignièra continued, pointing at the map to illustrate his point, “but not a single one has engaged us more than Estaburg.” It was a large territory with a powerful army—at least, in comparison to its neighbors. Perhaps it would have conquered the region by now were it not for the great pressure the Empire was exuding.

Estaburg’s soldiers fought best on wooded terrain, which was fortunate, considering the vast forest between it and Belgaria, but the imperial troops could easily regain the advantage by bringing the battle to open plains. As a result of this back and forth, the war front had reached a stalemate many years ago and had remained this way ever since.

Marschtedt was more than fortified enough to endure an attack, and the land surrounding it was made up of expansive fields of wheat; Belgaria would be at an advantage even if the battle was brought outside the city walls.

“What’s that, then?” Jerome asked. There was a lone piece on the map situated some distance away from all the others.

Coignièra hesitated for a moment. “Fort Häupert. It was built in an effort to expand our territory.”

“I see.” It was in a decent location if that was their intention. Some might have bemoaned the dangers of establishing a fortress a light stroll away from the forests where Estaburg reigned supreme, but Jerome had a particular soft spot for gutsy moves.

“There are six hundred soldiers stationed there. Their commander is from House Barguesonne, and—”

“Six hundred? An army that small doesn’t inspire much confidence.”

“You’re right, but there are strongholds other than Marschtedt on the eastern front. Even if we count the men stationed there among our available forces, we would only have eighteen thousand in total. We’ve had to spread ourselves as thin as possible...” Coignièra said. Six hundred was apparently the most they could spare for Häupert.

“Call them back. It’s foolish to fixate on our offensive cards when we’ve been pushed on the defensive.”

“There is a Belgarian town right behind Fort Häupert. The soldiers intend to protect its residents.”

Jerome tutted. “Evacuate the residents then.”

“Unfortunately, not even Marschtedt has the capacity to house them all. They would need to live in tents outside the walls...which would put them in harm’s way when the enemy comes.”

There was no point in evacuating the civilians from one battlefield to another, and putting them outside Marschtedt would make them especially vulnerable. They would either be killed or taken as hostages. Their wealth would go straight to Estaburg’s war chest, while their food supplies would feed the mouths of enemy soldiers.

“What about the other strongholds?” Jerome asked.

“They are quite some distance from Häupert, so it would be a long trip—likely too much for the women, children, and elderly. It might be worth the risk if we receive confirmation that Häupert is going to fall...but it has held steady so far.”

“So it’s sturdy?”

“About as much as your average fortress. There used to be five thousand soldiers there.”

Belgaria’s losses during the war had put the fortress in a regrettable position. Rather than spreading the army even thinner than it already was, Coignièra had made the decision to cut Häupert off entirely. It was an appropriate call to make, as far as Jerome was concerned. The only problem was that the fort was not the only thing that would fall.

Jerome clicked his tongue. “Why did they build a town there?”

“Err... The merchants set up shops for the soldiers which eventually became buildings. Their families moved in, had children, and then those children grew up to till the land. The fields spread, and, well...”

“So it’s not a new settlement.”

“Although we have had many engagements, the line had remained steady for quite some time. I’m actually from there, truth be told. The town is called Aphäut, since it was built near Häupert.”

Jerome was a little surprised; he would need to revise his opinion of the man standing before him. Coignièra was making the correct strategic decision, to be sure, but was presumably quite cold to have cast aside his own homeland.

“How many soldiers can we house at Häupert?” Jerome asked.

“Ten thousand at most, if we pushed its capacity to the absolute limit.”

“It’s not really a stronghold then.” It was around the same size at Fort Sierck, Jerome’s previous base of operations. It would manage fine in small skirmishes, but the unit stationed there stood no chance against a force three times its size.

Jerome understood that there was no point in complaining to the man who had only recently become a commander, but he considered it absurd that Häupert had not been expanded while Aphäut was being founded. And if such an expansion were not possible, they never should have permitted the construction of the town. Jerome had forbidden any shops from being set up near Fort Sierck. It was an inconvenience for the soldiers living there, but it preserved the strategic option of abandoning the fort in a time of crisis and safely retreating to Theonveil.

“It’s like building a house without a roof because it happened to be sunny that day...” Jerome noted.

“There is an ongoing effort to expand Marschtedt. If all goes as planned, it should be possible to rehouse every single resident of Aphäut, but...” Coignièra hung his head. “The work is not due to be completed until the spring of next year.”

Were Estaburg passive enough to wait an entire year, the east would not have needed reinforcements from the Fourth Army.

Jerome sighed. “If those townsfolk refuse to abandon their precious town, so be it. But that’s a waste of six hundred soldiers. Call them back.”

“I cannot guarantee they will obey, even if I give the order.”

“What do you mean? Are those six hundred someone’s personal army?”

“Everyone in Häupert was born in Aphäut. They are all new recruits and old men who were not called to join the campaign. If they are attacked...I presume they are resolved to die.”

“So you’ve left them there because they won’t make any meaningful contributions to our war potential.”

Coignièra clenched his fists. “Under any other circumstances, I would gladly join the fight at Häupert... But I must take command to defend the Empire.”

✧ ✧ ✧

After going over the situation, a new line of command was established. Both the Black Knight Brigade and the former Second Army would take orders from the Seventh Army from that point onward.

Once the meeting was over, the map was put away, and food was served. Massive plates were brought out, each loaded with smaller, exquisitely made morsels. The main dish was venison.

Jerome glanced at the man beside him, the new deputy head of the Black Knight Brigade. Holger was somewhat decent in combat and on horseback, but he excelled most in his ability to command others.

“What do you think?” Jerome asked.

“Tender and delicious, and the citrus sauce is unrivaled. I expect no less from Belgarian chefs.”

“I wasn’t talking about the meat.”

“That was a joke,” Holger chuckled. He was a strange one indeed; not even seasoned veterans tried to banter with Jerome. He lowered his voice into a whisper. “Marschtedt won’t fall regardless of how the Black Knight Brigade moves, but the Seventh Army is currently a mishmash of broken men. The brigadier general won’t want to relinquish a highly trained cavalry regiment.”

Jerome stabbed his knife into the great cut of venison at the center of the table. The map had already been put away, but he had managed to stick the blade precisely where Marschtedt had previously been depicted. “How will they come at us?” he asked.

“Their first move won’t be to attack this stronghold. I imagine they’ll target another key point.”

“Most likely. But what if they do come for Marschtedt?”

Holger reached out his fork and slid its prongs across the wood grain of the table, east of the makeshift marker. “They’ll first try to force their way through. Once they notice that doesn’t work, they’ll attack in the night. If that fails, they’ll plunder the nearby towns... At least, I assume they will.”

Jerome’s knife tore through the venison steak. A cavalry attack from behind would no doubt prove effective when that happened. “How would you deal with it?” he asked.

“Sitting around and waiting for them sounds like a bore. Isn’t it more your style to send out the cavalry as soon as you see them? To charge ahead and seize their commander’s life?”

“That’s how the Black Knight Brigade does things. I’m glad someone gets it.”

“That said, if we’re up against cannons, I’d advise we stay inside the city walls.”

“Good. I’ll leave that to you.”

“I take it you’re heading out then. Are we halving the brigade?”

“I’m more than enough on my own.”

Holger looked perplexed. “You’re not making me your stand-in, are you?”

“Discontent? I see where you’re coming from, since you’re not getting a pay raise.”

“I’d only expect a reward for a job well done, but my word... Life really has its twists and turns.”

And so, the Black Knight Brigade was entrusted to Holger. It was perhaps less impressive than it sounded; the brigade was going to remain within the safe city walls for the foreseeable future, anyway.

Jerome rose from his chair. “Coignièra!”

“Y-Yes?!” the brigadier general stammered. “What seems to be the problem?! Do you need me to pass the salt?!”

“This ain’t about the meat! Holger Orjes here is taking over from me. You can count on him to manage the cavalry.”

“Huh?”

“You can claim victory on the open plains even without me. And as we discussed...you’re taking command of the army as a whole.”

“O-Of course.”

“I’ve already ordered my men to cut down anyone who lags behind.”

Benjamin barely contained a shriek. The riders of the Black Knight Brigade were loyal to the point of being fanatical; they would not hesitate to slay a noble on Jerome’s command.

Holger saluted. “I am Third-Grade Combat Officer Holger Orjes. I may be a newcomer, but I am honored to work with you, Sir Coignièra.”

“U-Understood...” Coignièra replied. “But where are you going, Sir Jerome? Are you returning to Fort Volks?”

There was a massive thud as Jerome stabbed his knife into the table once again, this time sticking the blade where Fort Häupert had been on the map. “Here. This is where the enemy will attack first.”

✧ ✧ ✧

The next day—

Jerome spurred his trusty steed toward Fort Häupert. He had departed that morning and managed to reach his destination by evening.

“So this is Aphäut...”

As absurd as it was, the town really was there, attached to the fort. It had the capacity to house around twenty thousand people, at least judging by the number of buildings, but half of the residents had evacuated when the number of soldiers stationed at the fort was drastically reduced. There were now just short of ten thousand, apparently—many of whom were children and old-timers who would struggle on the long journey.

Just beyond the main street lined with shops, Jerome saw a relatively low stone wall with a lookout tower. The sight alone brought him back to his time at Fort Sierck. He could feel the same pang in his chest as when he had first seen the puny fort he was assigned to.

Jerome gritted his teeth as he handed a letter to the gatekeeper and declared his credentials. A ruckus followed, and soon enough, the commander of the fort came out to meet him. He had heard that the unit stationed there was composed mainly of new recruits and old soldiers, but nothing had prepared him for what he was now seeing.

The commander was a woman.

“Urgh...” Jerome pinched the bridge of his nose. A tiny fort, a female commander... His head hurt as he recalled the duel that had stained his career. She had brown hair that rested neatly at her shoulders, and she looked to be around twenty.

The woman offered a model salute. “I am Second-Grade Combat Officer Marion Alphons de Barguesonne. I command the Seventh Army’s detachment stationed at Fort Häupert.”

“I’ve been told you’re related to the lieutenant general.”

She paused for a moment before answering. “My grandfather was a wonderful commander.”

Jerome harrumphed. So she’s his granddaughter, eh?

“Is it customary to skip introductions in the Fourth Army?” Marion asked. Her tone was polite, but her sharp eyes somewhat resembled the impertinent princess. It was irritating.

“Major General Jerome Jean de Beilschmidt. Think before you answer this—do you seriously intend to survive?”

“Huh? W-Well...I intend to give it my all! That’s what we’ve all decided!”

We? Is that really what a commander should say?! Jerome cursed to himself. In any case, Coignièra was right—the soldiers here had no intention of abandoning the last fort protecting their homeland.

“Tsk... Fine. Show me around the fort.”

“On whose authority—?! Ah, no, this must be about the Fourth Army coming as reinforcements. A brief tour is the least I can do for you.”

Jerome may have held a higher rank, but he was not of the same army; there was no obligation for Marion to listen to his orders. Even so, she seemed to come to terms with it. She was strong-willed but at least somewhat rational.

She’s gonna be a real pain, isn’t she?

✧ ✧ ✧

After inspecting the gate and outer wall, Jerome checked the lookout towers, the stables, the food storage, and the armory. The facilities were in rather standard condition for a fortress. He then gazed over the soldiers gathered on the training grounds. They were noisy and restless, the sorts who would not be chosen for an expedition even if the Empire were in peril. He had no expectations when it came to their abilities; he could tell how poorly trained they were just from the looks on their faces.

“Weak, the lot of them,” Jerome sighed. “Not even worth consideration.”

Marion glared at him. “Isn’t that a bit uncalled for? Mouthing off about someone else’s unit?!”

“There’s a town behind this fort...yet for some ridiculous reason, no plans have been made for an evacuation. If an enemy attacks, the townsfolk are gonna have no choice but to pile into your fortress. And if your detachment loses, then all those innocent civilians are gonna die with it.”

“W-We are well aware of that! That’s why we remain here!”

“Of course, I won’t let that happen in the first place.”

“Huh?!”

“I hate losing. I won’t let the likes of Estaburg take even a single puny fortress. Under my watch, Fort Häupert will never fall.”

At this declaration, the faces of all those gathered immediately lit up. “A-Are there going to be more reinforcements coming here?!” Marion asked.

“Fool. The Empire doesn’t have the troops to spare. Don’t you know what happened during the war?”

“I...I read the report. Then how?”

“Hmph... Utter trash. You’re a soldier, right? You want to protect your home, don’t you? Then fight and win! No matter how noble your ideals might be, they’re all meaningless if you can’t seize victory.”

“You’re asking for the impossible! How can we possibly win without reinfor—” Marion suddenly cut herself short. “Ah. No. We intend to win, of course. But while Estaburg is far smaller than Belgaria, it is a powerful nation with a well-funded military. Our enemy has close to thirty thousand soldiers—not that I expect an outsider to know that!”

“That just means you have to get stronger.”

“Everyone here is either too old or a fresh recruit!”

Jerome offered no verbal response; instead, he held out a sheet of paper marked with the signature of the brigadier general.

“Hand over the...r-right to command...?” Marion said, her head spinning as she read the decree. “That’s absurd! To someone who just showed up?! I refuse! I’ll issue a formal complaint to Mr. Coignièra! Such an order would never have gone through if my grandfather was—”

There came a sudden crack like the shattering of stone as Marion dropped to the ground, her face bruised. “Good grief...” Jerome grumbled. “Anyone else want to complain about their orders? I’m your commander now. If you still can’t understand that, come forward. I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t soon forget.”

The uproar grew even louder. Even in patriarchal Belgaria, any man who raised a hand against a woman was treated like a barbarian. It was brutality unbefitting a noble. And many on the eastern front were already familiar with the legend of the Black Knight, so they knew he was abnormally strong. A shudder ran through the troops. Was this man truly prepared to kill them if they disobeyed his orders?

Jerome gave a satisfied nod. “All right. Then let’s get some grub!”

Only then did the men remember it was about time for dinner.

✧ ✧ ✧

“What’s this supposed to be?” Jerome asked, prodding through the contents of his bowl with a spoon. The soup he had been served was mostly hot water—hot water with a reasonable amount of meat mixed into it, but hot water nonetheless. The soldiers were making do with minced vegetables.

“Stocks are low. What else can we do?” Marion retorted, sounding ever irritated. She had a dark-blue mark under her eye, but she had proven to be surprisingly sturdy—it was clear to see why she was recognized as a commander. She had regained consciousness rather quickly and was now seated beside Jerome, having appointed herself deputy after begrudgingly accepting the order to surrender her position.

Even after I knocked her lights out... Is she made of steel or just plain thick? Suppose it doesn’t matter either way.

“You can’t raise strong troops on this,” Jerome said. “Bring out the meat.”

“We don’t have any.”

“It’s the commander’s duty to prepare some.”

“We can’t afford any.”

“Then go out and start hunting.”

“Please don’t be so unreasonable,” Marion retorted, fixing the Black Knight with a firm glare. “Estaburg is lying in ambush in the forest, and its Evergreen Infantry is incredibly strong. They’re the reason the people of Aphäut can’t even go out and gather their own food. Of course, they won’t attack if we bring enough men, but then the animals all run away.”

Marion was wearing an expression that seemed to say, “See? There’s nothing you can do!” Her attitude irritated Jerome, but he needed to put emotions aside and focus only on the necessary information. After racking their brains on what to do about food, they eventually decided on salty soup.

Coignièra’s unit was being served normal meals. Were supplies not being sent to Fort Häupert because the men stationed there were considered useless soldiers?

“If you can’t use the forest, take supplies from the town.”

“I’m trying to tell you, the town doesn’t have any meat either.”

“They have livestock to survive the winter, don’t they?”

“What?! You want us to use up their winter supplies?! I misjudged you! I was almost a little thankful when you arrived. I thought you’d come to protect Aphäut. But no! You’re a savage!”

“If your fortress falls, the town’s food stocks become provisions for the Estaburg Army. The townsfolk are better off surrendering it than being killed for it.”

“Are you stupid? How are they supposed to survive the winter without winter supplies?! They’ll die regardless of how the war turns out!”

What’s the use in worrying about winter when the enemy could be on our doorstep tonight?

Jerome sighed. Maybe this resistance was to be expected; anyone with a good sense of crisis would have abandoned ship by now. The ones left were those who believed things would work themselves out or who refused to think about the situation...or who had given up entirely. He knew that he could give the order and the soldiers would obey, but they had all been born and raised in Aphäut; having them commandeer their own people’s livestock would create a notable drop in morale.

“Hmph. Fine. I’ll procure the food they need for the winter,” Jerome conceded. “But for now, we need what they’ve got in town.”

“What are you going to do?” Marion asked. “We don’t have the money to buy supplies from other territories.”

That goddamn cheapskate of a duke...

Jerome let out another sigh. Despite being a duke, Lieutenant General Barguesonne had levied only the minimum necessary taxes from the people and saved no surplus capital during his time supporting the eastern front. There was a rumor that he would even hammer out the dents in his worn-down armor to avoid having to replace it.

Food reserves processed for storage were far more expensive than supplies procured on-site. Two months of hunting in the forest was usually sufficient to gather enough meat to survive the winter, but two months of heavy labor would not bring in enough money to buy the same amount of provisions. Transportation costs were high, even in Belgaria, where the roads were well maintained.

Jerome ultimately decided to offload the duty on someone else. “It’s all right. Leave it to me,” he said. “The Empire’s Fourth Army has a tactician known as ‘the Wizard.’ He can secure us enough food for a small town without breaking a sweat.”

The man himself would have certainly objected had he been there to hear it. The question was whether Marion was willing to believe it.

The young woman leaned in close. “You’re going to turn to Sir Regis d’Aurick?!” she asked.

Sir?

It seemed that word of the tactician’s exploits had reached as far as the eastern border. Jerome nodded. “I’ll work him to the bone. He’s practically my subordinate.”

“He’s not going to come here, is he?!”

Hah! That piece of trash should be studying for his exams about now! Jerome thought. Despite his opinion of the tactician, however, he knew that raising his reputation could prove quite useful in the future. “He’s in the capital. His competence makes him pretty busy.”

“Ah... Of course. A national hero would never come to a fort in the middle of nowhere...” Marion slumped over and sighed. “Be it on land or sea, he thoroughly defeated the High Britannian Army that even my mighty grandfather couldn’t take down. I’m sure that God-gifted tactician could find a solution, even here.”

Is this “mighty grandfather” she’s talking about the same guy who only ever ordered his men to charge? And is this “God-gifted tactician” meant to be Regis? It was so far from the truth that Jerome started to feel dizzy.

“He’s just a book rat.”

“He reads, does he?” Marion asked. “I see. He must have pored over history’s greatest strategy books. I need to learn from his example.”

“It’s all useless fantasy and science fiction.”

“You’re lying...” Marion looked dissatisfied with this answer.

Jerome shrugged. “Regis isn’t coming east, but he is conveniently in the capital right now. I’ll have him send over some food. Now, go and commandeer those supplies.”

“Are you sure he can help us?”

“I’ll smash his head in if he refuses!”

“Don’t do that! Hah... Well, if you’re sure everything will be okay... I suppose the Fourth Army is an elite force. I’m sure they’re in a better situation than the Seventh Army.”

“Elite...?”

“They have an imperial princess at the helm with a genius young tactician by her side. And the Black Knight too, of course! Ah, but I never thought you would be such a brute... Anyway, if the First Army is the shield that protects the capital, the Fourth was forged as the sword to bury our enemies! I heard it was a mighty force put together from the Empire’s elites.”

“Idiot.”

“Th-That was sudden! You’re pretty rude!”

Jerome was a hero—a man whose accomplishments were so great that he had been driven from the capital out of envy. Meanwhile, the fourth princess had been banished simply for losing a power struggle, while Regis had been relocated after shouldering the responsibility for an unfortunate lost battle. Marion’s continued misconceptions had turned Jerome’s dizziness into full-blown nausea.

Jerome waved away Marion as though he were shooing away a dog. “Just go already. Have the meat ready by dinnertime tomorrow.”

“Ah, for crying out loud... Just so you know, I won’t be expropriating anything. I intend to borrow from the townsfolk. I’ll put together proper contracts and everything. And my name won’t be the only one at the bottom—you’re going to sign them too!”

“Whatever you want.”

Marion was no longer the active commander, yet she insisted on including her own name on the contracts. She’s diligent, I’ll give her that, Jerome thought.

After downing her soup in a single gulp, Marion shot to her feet. “I’ll have the papers ready by tomorrow morning!” she declared.

“You’re writing them yourself...?” Jerome asked in disbelief. “Where are your admin officers?”

“We only have twenty for our entire detachment, so I’m having to pitch in. Rumor has it the First Army has over a thousand. I’m sure you have plenty in the Fourth Army. I’m envious, to say the least.”

“I sacked them all. Regis is the only admin officer we have.”

“Huh...?”

“No, wait. I think he’s got one of Auguste’s girls working for him now. He gets some help from the maids too, but that’s about it.” He had petitioned the Ministry of Military Affairs for more staff, but the very idea had been shelved the moment war broke out with High Britannia.

“Th-There’s no way you could get anything done like that... Ah, you’re lying again! You’re writing me off as some stupid country bumpkin, but I won’t be fooled!” Marion protested with puffed-out cheeks.

Jerome shoved a spoonful of the salty soup into his mouth. It was good that they had supplies now, but...he would need to inform Regis of the situation. This meant writing a letter, and while he was at least more competent than the princess in that regard, he hated doing paperwork. He clicked his tongue, barely able to muster the motivation to get out of his seat.

✧ ✧ ✧

The next morning—

The soldiers were a little more restless than usual. Along with their usual breakfasts, they had each been served a helping of ham.

“Will this make them stronger?” Marion asked, wearing an expression that revealed just how proud she was of her accomplishment.

Jerome shrugged. “It’s a start.”

After breakfast, the soldiers were ordered to gather at the training grounds. Jerome stood before them, sternly eyeing his new troops.

“You’re all weak!” he declared.

The soldiers winced. Under any other circumstances, at least some of the men would have voiced their outrage at such a harsh remark...but no one dared snap back at the Black Knight.

“Far too weak,” Jerome continued. “But if you lose, the fort falls, and the townsfolk are as good as dead.”

Some of the soldiers now looked on the verge of tears.

“That’s not an option. You have to win! And that’s why I’m going to train you!”

As the troops began to murmur among themselves and exchange looks, a young man standing near the front of the crowd raised his hand. “C-Can we really get stronger?” he asked.

“You can!” Jerome boomed. “Muscle and technique can’t be built up in a day, but spirit is something else! Spirit can change in an instant!”

The soldiers’ faces immediately lit up. Marion’s eyes were positively sparkling.

“What’s with those soppy faces?!” Jerome yelled. “The instant your spirit changes is the instant you start seeing hell!”

“H-Hell...?!”

A smile played on Jerome’s lips as the hopeful air vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. “You’ll be seeing hell, all right!” he roared. “If you can change, change! Change to beat the enemy! No, by then, the enemy might be the least of your worries!”

“P-Please wait a second!” Marion interjected in a panic. “What are you trying to do?! We’ve nothing but new recruits and elderly here! Push them too hard and they’ll be worn out before battle!”

“Not my problem! Starting today, they’re gonna be training so hard they’ll wish they were dead. In fact, some actually will die. The unfocused, the unskilled, and the unlucky will perish!”

“I can’t let you do that!”

Paying no mind to Marion’s protests, Jerome addressed the gathered soldiers. “If any of you think you won’t be able to handle it, come forward now! I’ll exempt you from training!”

Much to Marion’s surprise, the soldiers actually looked rather hopeful. It came as a considerable relief.

How irritating...

“Spoiled brats, the lot of you. You’re weak. That’s why you foolishly believe nothing bad will ever happen to you. The enemy could invade any day now and slaughter your families, yet not a single one of you grows desperate! That’s why you’re failures! It’s not because you’re fresh recruits or because you’re too old. You’re weak because you’re gutless cowards! That’s why you’ll die! Every last one of you!”

“What...?!” Marion and all the soldiers turned pale. It was clear now that Jerome had no intention of showing any mercy, no matter how fearful they were.

“I’m not your drill instructor! This isn’t an academy! We’re at a fort, the front line, a battlefield! The weak will be used as the weak ought to be used! Training starts today! Just come to me if you can’t keep up! I’ll send you out into the forest to hunt!”

The soldier who had previously raised his hand stepped forward. “This is tyranny!” he cried. “What you’re proposing is certain death! The Evergreen Infantry’s in the forest! There’s no way such an insane order would ever be permitted!”

“Oh? Are you gonna have me tried at the Ministry? Go ahead. Let’s hope this fort is still here by next fall, when your complaint finally makes it through that bureaucratic hellhole and an official comes to inspect the situation.”

“Erk...”

“Besides, weren’t you all prepared to die protecting this fort?”

“O-Of course, but...that was with all of us fighting together...”

“Bloody fool! When you fight, you fight alone! Your allies are baggage! They’ll drag you down!”

“H-Huh?!” the youth stammered.

Marion held her head. “Y-You only think that because you’re strong...Sir Jerome. The weak need to work together...”

“Cooperation between the weak makes me laugh! How can you expect to coordinate if you don’t even know how to hold your own? Trash piled together just makes a pile of trash!”

“There’s power in numbers!” the young man refuted. “That’s what I was taught. We can achieve the stuff of miracles if we just combine our strength. There’s six hundred of us here; together, we could even defeat the Black Knight!” He placed a hand on his sword, but Jerome merely scoffed.

“Okay. So?”

“Take it all back! How can you call this training when you’re sending us to our deaths?! I won’t let you send anyone into the forest!”

Jerome chuckled. “You really think you can beat me with six hundred men? Go on, then. Draw your sword. I’ll teach you just how useless you really are!”

“U-Urgh...”

Jerome slowly walked forward, closing in on the young soldier. “Training starts now. Your objective is simple: survive.”

“Eh?”

“Survive against me. C’mon. It’s just training. I’ll hold back.”

“What are you—?!”

The young soldier was thrown into the air as Jerome’s fist planted into his stomach. Almost simultaneously, the Black Knight snatched the sword from the man’s waist and inspected it. It was a mass-produced model, but it was properly maintained.

“Hmph... At least you know how to take care of a weapon. Oh, by the way—I take training very seriously. Anyone who leaves this yard will be labeled a deserter and cut down. Don’t run if you don’t want to die.”

“N-Now you’ve done it!” another soldier yelled. He charged at Jerome, who twisted his torso just enough to evade a thrust from the man’s blade before smacking the flat of his borrowed sword into his back. The Black Knight then slashed at one of the men watching in a daze, drawing blood from his forehead.

“E-Eh?!”

“Some nerve you have there, daydreaming in a fight against me! That’s a surefire way to die!”

Several of the soldiers standing nearby fled in tears. “Waaah!” one wailed. “This... This is crazy! It’s messed up! No more!”

“No! Don’t run!” Marion screamed. “He really will kill you!”

A few levelheaded men reacted to her order, grabbing the deserters before they could escape the yard. “D-Don’t run! Marion’s right!” they exclaimed. “The Black Knight won’t kill us for attacking him! If that was his intention, there’d be dead bodies all around us!”

“B-B-But...!”

“Over there! See? He’s n-not dead yet! At least, I don’t think he is!”

The young man who had sustained the first blow hobbled to his feet and—“Urghhhh... Blergh!”—proceeded to vomit all over the ground.

“Good grief...” Jerome sighed. “All that ham, wasted.”

“H-He’s a demon...”

Jerome cackled. “Don’t be ridiculous... I’m a real stand-up guy. That’s why I stand up for myself when the priest badmouths us at Sunday mass.”

The soldiers were finally all starting to grasp their current situation: the man before them had a terrible personality. He was skilled enough to be called a hero, but he knew nothing about the value of a human life.

“Remember your training, everyone!” Marion cried out. “Surround him and take him down!”

“Good, good. Finally getting into it, are we?” Jerome remarked. “Now, come at me all at once. Better be quick about it. Once I start getting tired, I might accidentally forget to hold back.”

The screams of six hundred echoed through Fort Häupert.

✧ ✧ ✧

That night—

Jerome was lying in bed. His candle was extinguished, so the room was illuminated solely by the dim light seeping in through the nearby window.

All of a sudden, there was a quiet knock at the door. Jerome offered no response, but the door swung open nonetheless, and in stepped a small shadow emboldened only by the glow of the moon.

“Attacking me in my sleep? You move pretty nimbly, I’ll give you that, but you didn’t have to knock.”

The figure pricked up her ears at Jerome’s words and let out a deep breath. “If you’re awake, then you should have said something sooner,” came Marion’s voice.

“I was asleep.”

“You’re lying. A gentle knock wouldn’t be enough to wake you.”

“We’re on the battlefield.”

“We’re not— No, forget about that. I wanted to talk about today’s training.”

“Do you think I held back too much?”

“No, quite the opposite! You took it way too far. The sick bay’s full, everyone’s wounded all over... It’s like we went to war. S-Some of them are crying, you know!”

“They’re not the only ones. After seeing how pathetic they are, I want to cry too.”

“Now’s not the time for jokes!”

“Hah... You’re the real joke here. You can’t wage a war with such weak soldiers. If the enemy attacks, anyone even close to the rear will desert the moment the front line starts taking losses. You saw how they were against me, and I’m just one man.”

“Th-That’s... That’s because you attacked without warning...”

“Do you think you’d get warning in a real battle? You become the new front line the moment the blokes in front of you croak.”

“Most of the soldiers here are conscripted farmers. They’re used to working the fields or doing construction work.”

“I could tell at a glance. The Seventh Army’s expedition force was decently trained; only the dregs were left behind.”

“I can’t deny that. That’s why no one complained when a woman like me was appointed commander. The soldiers here aren’t elites like those in the Fourth Army.”

“So, what? Are you gonna surrender the moment Estaburg attacks?”

“That’s...”

“Everyone dies sooner or later. If you’re soldiers, at least die fighting the enemy. It’s disgraceful to succumb to an arrow in the back.”

“I... I know that. But what you did out there... That was terrible...”

“There’s something else you need to understand: no normal training will turn those men into proper soldiers.”

“That’s not true!” Marion exclaimed, now standing right at Jerome’s bedside. Surprisingly enough, she was not wearing her uniform. Instead, she was dressed in a nightgown that exposed her shoulders—a subtle reminder that she was indeed a noblewoman.

Jerome looked at her face closely in the pale moonlight. “Has that mark faded already...?” he murmured.

“I’ve hidden it with makeup.”

“Hah. Some words of advice—don’t come to a man’s room at night wearing makeup. It won’t end well for you. Though I’ll keep you company if you insist.”

“O-Of course...” Marion’s voice quavered. “The Black Knight must be used to these things...”

“Of course. First, it’s good etiquette to remove your dress before you enter a man’s bed,” Jerome instructed her in a voice that seemed to melt into the night air.

Marion placed a hand on her nightgown’s shoulder strap and froze. Removing such a measly piece of clothing should have been simple, but this motion was at complete odds with her sense of shame.

Jerome chortled. “And if you want to get any use out of your knife, you’d better take care to hide your intentions.”

“You noticed?!” Marion yelped, her face bright red. She thrust out the blade she had attempted to keep hidden...

At least she’s determined.

...but Jerome effortlessly grabbed her by the wrist. Her arm was so slender that he thought it might snap just from a little extra force. She was an ordinary person—not like Altina.

“Yeah, this really shouldn’t come as a surprise...” Jerome muttered to himself. “The princess is an exception.”

“I-I’ll kill you!”

“Didn’t you want to protect the fort? How do you achieve that by killing me?”

“If you keep up that terrible training of yours, everyone will die before the enemy even comes near us! I’m protecting my men!”

Jerome grabbed Marion and yanked her close. “Imbecile! Your overprotectiveness is what’s made them go rotten!”

“Overprotectiveness?!”

“Just look at you! I don’t think they’re nearly as hopeless as you do! Nor have I abandoned them!”

“Abandoned...? I haven’t—”

“Your true nature comes not in words, but in actions. I’m trying to help them improve. You’re trying to stop me. Now, which one of us actually thinks the soldiers can grow stronger? Which one of us thinks they can win the war? You think my training is terrible? The soldiers are still alive, aren’t they? And tomorrow, they’ll be finer men than they were today!”

“I-I just...wanted to...”

Marion fell silent. Her words had failed her. All she could do was tremble before the intensity of the Black Knight.

✧ ✧ ✧

The bugles sounded their wake-up call before dawn, marking the start of the Häupert soldiers’ second day of training.

“Hraaah!”

“Gryaaah!”

Jerome threw a punch, sending one man flying through the air. Far from running away, however, the other soldiers were already closing in with their swords at the ready. It seemed they had already grown accustomed to their friends being thrown around; no longer did they falter when a whole group of men were knocked from their feet.

“It’s over, Black Knight!”

“Hmph. Think again.”

Jerome drew his weapon. He dodged and parried the swords coming at him before kicking the nearest soldier square in the stomach.

“Hngh!”

Their training continued up to breakfast, then up to lunch, and then finally up to the evening bell. For an entire month, the soldiers kept up this merciless routine.

✧ ✧ ✧

The fortified city of Marschtedt—

It was early morning when Coignièra started swinging his sword in the courtyard. Although his days were predominantly taken up by meetings and paperwork, his physique was his last bastion on the battlefield. He could not neglect his training.

“Hup! Hup!”

“Good morning. You’re getting pretty into it.”

The voice came from Holger, proxy head of the Black Knight Brigade.

Coignièra smiled, wiping his body down with a cloth one of the maids had given him. “You’ve caught me at a terrible time,” he said. “This must look like mere child’s play to you.”

The Black Knight Brigade was seen as the strongest order of knights in the Empire. This title had previously been reserved for the First Army, but rumors had spread quickly following their defeat during the national day celebrations.

“Not at all,” Holger replied with a shake of his head. “You looked just fine. I’m sorry to interrupt your training, but a letter came in.”

“A letter?”

“From our tactician.”

“Oh, from Sir Regis!” Coignièra exclaimed. He raced over to see that Holger was actually holding two letters.

“One is addressed to Sir Jerome. I checked it just in case—it’s about supplying food to Aphäut, and a few other things.”

“You opened a private message?!”

“Of course. If they were orders for the Black Knight Brigade, as the proxy head, I am responsible for enacting them.”

“Oh, I see.”

“I haven’t read the letter addressed to you, sir. No need to worry.” Holger handed over an envelope with the wax seal still intact.

“Ah, no... I wasn’t suspecting that you had.”

“Aha. I understand that you meant nothing by it. I am a foreign tramp, though; it is perfectly normal for you to be wary of me. That is how it should be.”

“Is it really?”

“They say that trusting others is a virtue. I personally think that a commander is better off being cautious.”

“Certainly. I wouldn’t be a reliable commander if I allowed myself to be deceived so easily.”

“Right... Incidentally, did you send a letter to the tactician?”

“I stuck it along with the one that Sir Jerome sent. Pathetic as it may sound, I wrote about the situation on the eastern front and asked for his thoughts on the matter,” Coignièra said. He broke the seal on the envelope handed to him and opened the paper within. It was Regis’s handwriting, without a doubt.

“Hmm... So what did he say?” Holger asked, looking rather intrigued. “Actually, no. If you’d rather not tell me, I completely understand.”

“Ha ha... I do trust you, Sir Holger. Despite what you just told me.”

Holger was promptly shown the letter, much to his own surprise. He lowered his eyes to the page and then murmured. “Mm... This is...”

“Indeed. It’s almost like a prophecy of what’s to come.”

“Are you going to act on his words?”

“Personally, I intend to devote myself to protecting our strongholds, but...”

“The Black Knight Brigade is ready to go.”

“As is the Seventh Army, of course.”

After exchanging looks, Holger and Coignièra gave one another a nod of understanding.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Meat! Pass me some meat!”

It was time for lunch in Fort Häupert, and the soldiers were seething. Blood dripped from the outstretched arm of one young soldier. Marion raced over with a bandage as soon as she noticed.

“Hey! You’re wounded, aren’t you?!”

“Ah, Marion... Wounded? The Black Knight grazed me with his sword, is all. Didn’t reach the bone, so I’m perfectly fine.”

“G-Grazed you...with his sword...?”

“Yeah. A few of us weren’t so lucky—the blade went right through ’em, bone and all. Couldn’t look ’em in the eye if I started complaining about this little thing.”

“But your wounds will fester if you leave them.”

“If they do go rotten, I’ll just burn ’em. That’s what everyone’s doing these days. Nice and quick.”

“B-Burn them?!”

“Oh, but you get pretty hungry when you’re bleeding. Found that out recently. Ah, come to think of it, Marion...”

“Y-Yes...?”

“Thanks a bunch! I heard you were the one who got us the meat. We’re all grateful!”

“Yes, but... I was only able to secure it from the townspeople because Regis promised them food to last the winter...”

“That Regis guy is pretty great, sure, but you’re the one who got results! Tomorrow’s the day I’ll land a good punch on the Black Knight! Just you watch!”

“Yeah, that’s right!” the surrounding soldiers cried. “Beat him to a pulp!”

Marion sighed. “Look out for yourselves,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am!”

All of a sudden, a messenger rushed in and kneeled before Marion. She thought it odd, considering that she was no longer the active commander, but it was clear from the man’s haste that it was urgent.

“What happened...?” Marion asked.

“A group emerged from the forest. It might be an enemy attack!”

“An enemy attack?!”

“What shall we do?!”

“Do we know for sure that they’re an enemy? And do we have an idea of their numbers?”

Before the messenger could answer, he was hoisted up by the lapels by a furious Jerome. “Your first course of action should be to report to me, your commander,” the Black Knight growled.

“M-My apologies!” came a pained reply.

“Sound the bell at once!” Jerome yelled.

“Huh?!” Marion was panicked. “But we need to confirm it really is an attack—”

“Fool. Battles are won by speed! We take action, and if we find out this is a false report, we’ll just wring the lookout’s neck!” He lobbed the messenger toward the door.

“Gwah?!”

“Run!” Jerome yelled. “Run, because your life depends on it! Ring that bell, and then come back with a detailed rundown of the enemy’s movements!”

“Understood, sir!” the messenger stammered. He then fled the room in such haste that he nearly tripped over himself on the way out.

Marion’s face clouded with concern. “Won’t you have put everyone on edge for no reason if this is just a false report?”

“Consider it good training for them either way. Besides...looks like they really are here. The real deal.”

“Eh?”

Jerome’s lips curled into a fierce smile. “Kuh kuh kuh... Talk about having a presence. They’ve got a pretty strong one with ’em. And they’re purposely coming at us with bloodlust just to rile me up.”

“Y-You’re lying!” Marion protested. “How... How can you even sense something like bloodlust?!”

“Does that go against your common sense? What a restricted worldview.”

“What?!”

“If you’re going to watch, stay where the arrows won’t reach you.”

“I can fight perfectly well, thank you!”

Jerome placed a hand on Marion’s shoulder. “Don’t push yourself. You’re shaking.”

“Ah...”

“Cowards get in the way.”

After delivering those harsh words, Jerome headed for his trusty steed. The alarm bell rang a beat later, exactly as he had commanded.

“Enemy raid! Enemy raid! Estaburg are coming!”

✧ ✧ ✧

As was agreed upon, the townsfolk were let into the fortress from the town-side gate. They were crammed onto the training ground for the time being—a dirt floor with no roof or anywhere to lie down. It was not an environment they could endure several days in, but the townsfolk knew it was better than waiting to be killed. Rather than complain, they sent grateful and encouraging words to the soldiers.

“Marion, we’ve finished evacuating the townsfolk!” one soldier cried. “We’re closing the western gate!”

“Yes, please hurry. Also, inform Mr. Coignièra.”

“I’ll raise a smoke signal!”

“On the double.”

Marion looked to the sky. The sun had just barely started its westward descent. They had perhaps another six hours before all visibility was compromised. Will the fort be able to hold out that long? she wondered. Will our allies come to our assistance?

The smoke signal streamed high into the air. Marion’s eyes shifted to the eastern wall, where the Black Knight was taking command.

✧ ✧ ✧

Jerome scaled the eastern wall and gazed at his foe. The enemy army was slowly but surely marching closer, numbering roughly twenty thousand. They had not yet broken into a charge; although the forest was close enough to see, it was still fifty arpents (3,573 meters) away—a distance much too great to be cleared in one burst. There were perhaps fifteen minutes remaining before they would be within range of the fortress’s arrows.

The soldiers’ faces warped in fear, but Jerome merely chuckled as he voiced the terrifying reality of their situation. “Gah hah hah... That’s a lot of men they’ve got there.”

“Y-You’re not scared, sir?” one man asked.

“Of what?”

“We have six hundred, the enemy has twenty thousand. They outnumber us, um...how many times over?”

“Thirty times,” another soldier chimed in. “And that green armor means they’re the Evergreen Infantry. Estaburg’s archers are incredibly strong.”

Jerome glared at the soldiers. “So we have to take on thirty men each. You really think we can’t manage that? Looks like I held back too much during our training.”

“Erk. No, that’s not—”

“Laugh, then! Live a little! Those pieces of trash came here to lose!”

“Yes, sir!”

Fear had initially seeped into the men stationed at Fort Häupert, but Jerome’s merriment was contagious. Once a few started laughing in the face of the oncoming twenty thousand, the others soon followed. They were crooked, desperate smiles as they attempted to push back their cowardice, but it was better than them trembling to no end.

To think they’d throw their core unit at us all of a sudden... Jerome mused. They must be trying for a massive victory in the first battle to build morale and momentum.

Estaburg’s soldiers were clad in green, and they carried mid-weight bows despite the fact they were headed into a siege. Was this, perhaps, because those were the weapons they were most accustomed to? The enemy commander was evidently no fool; he understood that there was no better weapon than the one a soldier knew best.

Longbows would get in the way when racing through the trees, so Estaburg’s troops were wise to have armed themselves with something shorter, and they knew that the forest was the perfect territory for an ambush; it was near impossible to block the shots of an enemy that remained unseen. The roots and undergrowth also made for such terrible footing that it was hard for melee-focused soldiers to attack even when their foe was in sight.

However, the Evergreen Infantry had marched out onto the plains. Six hundred soldiers stood very little chance against an army of twenty thousand, but this was the best opportunity they were going to get, and they needed to win to knock the wind out of the sails of this invasion.

As Jerome thought over their predicament, a messenger ran over. “Commander! A letter from the capital!” he announced.

“What?”

“From Tactician Regis d’Aurick!”

It just had to come now, of all times!

“Tsk...” Jerome glared at the innocent messenger, who raised a timid shriek in response. “The letter can wait. We’re in the middle of a battle!”

“Eh?! But it’s from—”

“What use is a letter from the capital going to be when the battle’s already begun?! Just leave it somewhere!”

“Y-Yes, sir...” The messenger gave a nod and then meekly retreated.

Jerome gritted his teeth. He knew there was a chance that the tactician had foreseen this very situation and written something about it, but he was the Black Knight—the man revered as a hero. He hadn’t fallen far enough to rely on the advice of someone so many lieue away.

I’ll win even without Regis’s schemes!

“Commander!” one of the soldiers shouted. “They’re within range!”

“Fire!”

The ballistae mounted on the walls launched a volley of stones, each the size of a human head. The troops had tested their range beforehand, so they knew with all certainty that the shots would reach their targets.

Estaburg’s archers may have been skilled, but their forest bows would not be able to deliver their arrows far enough for them to return fire right away. The battle was going to be one-sided, at least for a short while.

But the ballistae at this fort aren’t enough, Jerome thought. We won’t even take out a thousand of the enemy’s troops before they’re in range.

Soon enough, Estaburg began to return fire. The forces at Häupert had anticipated that their enemy would come with skilled archers, so they were well prepared. Groups of soldiers held up massive shields as the arrows came down on them like rain.

“Wah!” One of the soldiers cried out, only to be smacked by another able man.

“You’re a bloody fool, yelping like that! It’s shameful!”

“R-Right!”

Although their counterstrategy was not perfect—several of the shield-holders came out injured—they had successfully staved off the enemy’s first attack. Now, Estaburg troops approached the stone walls with long ladders. It was a classic siege tactic—the archers would occupy the fortress’s defenses, allowing their soldiers to clamber to the top of the walls.

“Burn them down!” Jerome barked.

Obeying their orders, the Belgarian soldiers cracked open barrels and started pouring dark liquid over the enemy’s ladders. It was oil. Some were shot in the process, but nothing could stop their efforts. An old soldier, clutching his fatal wound, cried out victoriously as he tossed the lantern in his hand.

“Glory to the Empire!”

A cacophony of screams rang out from the Evergreen Infantry as they and their ladders burst into flames. The radiance was so great that it was as though the sun above had fallen to earth.

Although the Belgarian troops continued to whittle down their foe, Fort Häupert was already surrounded, and the difference in numbers was much too great. Arrows flew from every direction, and the Evergreen Infantry seemed unaffected no matter how many soldiers it lost. The mere six hundred of the imperial army were quickly exhausted.

✧ ✧ ✧

That evening—

One corner of the fort was attacked from three sides. Jerome had stationed the most proficient soldiers there, but they were still the first to fall. The sentries followed soon after, leaving nobody to act against the enemy’s ladders. It was only a short while later that the first Estaburg soldiers set foot in the fortress. They fired off one arrow after another, as if unleashing their pent-up frustration.

“Hyaaah!”

Emboldened by the hellish training they had undergone, those stationed at Fort Häupert put up fierce resistance. Enemy troops poured into the fortress much faster than the Belgarian soldiers were able to kill them, but even then, not a single man attempted to run away.

“Don’t lose! If we lose here, the fort falls!”

“The hell are you on about?!” one young soldier cried. “We’re the Belgarian Army! Estaburg trash is nothing to us!” He thrust out his spear, but his best technique did nothing to stop the hail of projectiles that came upon him, nor the lone arrow that bit into his torso. “It doesn’t hurt! Not compared to a punch from the Black Knight!”

«Urk!»

The young soldier’s spear pierced through an Estaburg infantryman.

“A’ight! Who’s next?!”

«Drop dead, Galian scum!»

“You don’t scare me one bit!”

Adrenaline had numbed his sense of pain. He no longer paid heed to his body’s limits, such that each move threatened to tear his muscles asunder. His spear shot forward as quickly as if it had been thrust by a master of the art, piercing his foe straight through the heart.

“And there’s more where that came from!”

But before the young soldier could strike again, a longsword extended from between the ranks of what should have been nothing but bowmen, severing his arm in one clean sweep.

«Worthless wretch.»

“G-Gyaaah?!”

A man stepped out into the open. He was unlike the others in the Evergreen Infantry. He wore white armor, carried a longsword, and boasted a physique that was distinctly better than the soldiers around him. He was faster to boot.

«This is for my sister!»

“N-No!”

The longsword shot toward the young soldier...only to be blocked at the last moment by a pitch-black spear. A man clad in black armor now stood at the forefront of Belgaria’s defenses.

“Hmph. I thought we’d face nothing but pesky arrows. Looks like someone here has some backbone.”

“B-Black Knight...” the soldier sputtered, no longer able to stand. His vision was already starting to fade, the darkness closing in, but he could still see his commander’s back.

“You did well, holding out until I got here. You’ve fulfilled your duty as a soldier of the Empire.”

“P-Please...” the young soldier pleaded, tears leaking from his eyes. “You have to win...”

“Win? Of course I’ll win!” Jerome roared. He thrust out his spear, but the soldier in white dodged with beast-like movements.

«For my little sister—for Juhaprecia! The commander is mine to—»

“Quit babbling in the middle of battle!”

In the blink of an eye, three consecutive thrusts bored holes in the man’s white armor.

«H-Huh...?»

“HRAAAH!”

Jerome slammed the bleeding suit of white armor into a nearby stone wall, impaling a nearby archer in the process. Only when he had finished slaughtering every enemy soldier who had made it onto the wall did reinforcements finally arrive. They were old men, the lot of them, but none were surprised by the bodies; they indifferently poured oil on the remaining ladders.

Upon realizing that their allies atop the wall had been wiped out, Estaburg unleashed another volley of arrows, but the Belgarians were already holding their wooden shields at the ready.

Jerome lowered his gaze to the stone floor—to the unmoving bodies of several young Belgarian soldiers. The sun was beginning to set. It would be near impossible for Estaburg’s archers to trace the paths of their arrows in the dark, and they would have a much harder time determining whether their allies had successfully cleared the wall. Nightfall would only increase their number of unnecessary casualties.

A bugle blared, and the Evergreen Infantry separated from Fort Häupert. The wound-ridden imperial soldiers quivered at the sight.

“The enemy...retreated...?”

“Twenty thousand soldiers...retreated... They retreated...”

“We... We won...”

“H-Hurraaah! We wooon!”

The soldiers cheered; six hundred men had driven off twenty thousand. They may have had the advantage as the defending forces in this siege, but it was still a miraculous turn of events.

Unfortunately, it was just the first day of the attack.

✧ ✧ ✧

Fort Häupert was like a morgue. Dead soldiers outnumbered the living. Even some of the civilians in the yard had perished from stray arrows.

Jerome sat on the stairs leading to the top of the wall, wary of an attack in the night. He shut his eyes for a moment...

...and awoke a short while later to footsteps.

“Ah...”

It was Marion.

“You didn’t bring a knife today,” Jerome observed.

“I don’t need one when I have my sword. Not that I intend to point it at you.”

“Hmph... So, how was that? We won.”

“It was amazing. But what about tomorrow?”

Jerome was silent. Marion held out a cup, which he snatched from her and brought to his lips. The water seeped into his parched body.

“Tsk... Could have at least brought me some booze.”

“Alcohol won’t help your wounds.”

“You think I was wounded in a battle like that?”

“You met with the field doctor, didn’t you?”

Jerome clicked his tongue again. “That quack.”

“You are the core of our defenses. I told him to report to me.”

“You’ve got nothing to worry about. It was barely a scratch.”

“I see... But the soldiers, on the other hand... They’re at their limit. You can’t call me overprotective anymore. I know you understand. Close to three hundred survived, but only perhaps two hundred of them can still fight. We don’t have any reserves left... If they breach our defenses again, we won’t be able to stop them.”

“So, what? You intend to surrender?”

“W-Well...”

“I killed a man in white... An Estaburg prince, I presume. Said he was Juhaprecia’s brother, though he never gave his name...”

Marion’s breath caught in her throat; if what Jerome had said was true, the enemy army was only going to become even more ruthless. Even if those at Fort Häupert surrendered, they would all most likely be slaughtered.

“I sent a letter to Marschtedt,” Marion said. “The journey isn’t that long. It should have arrived by the evening... Night at the latest.”

“Correct.”

Marion paused. “Then why haven’t we received any reinforcements?”

“Don’t ask what you already know. We were abandoned. That’s all there is to it.”

“But why?!”

“This was a throwaway fort from the start. And there’re twenty thousand Estaburg soldiers. The Seventh Army barely has thirteen thousand to work with. Sending reinforcements here would just be wasting men on a lost cause.”

Even if the Seventh Army had managed to fight off the Estaburg attack, they would have suffered great losses in the process, which would in turn weaken their defenses and make it harder for them to hold the line elsewhere. It was only natural that they would ignore the request.

“Waaah... I already knew it was true, but...but...” Tears started falling from Marion’s eyes. “We really were abandoned...”

Jerome had not come to Häupert to save the fort, per se, but he had thought that the Black Knight Brigade might mobilize in his aid nonetheless. So, this is what it feels like to be completely abandoned... he thought.

“I see now... It’s like a hole was punched through my chest.”

“Why did you come here?” Marion asked. “You’re not from Aphäut...”

Jerome folded his arms and cocked his head. Good question... Did I want to achieve a magic-like victory to show that I’m in no way inferior to that tactician? Was it childish stubbornness?

“Hmph...” After a moment spent in thought, the Black Knight gave his answer. “I told you already—I hate losing. I won’t let even a puny fort fall to the likes of Estaburg.”

Jerome was a man who refused to give up his dignity, even if that refusal meant death. The very thought of cowering and running away—of dying old without having put up a fight... A life spent like that can eat shit.

Marion wiped her eyes. “What should we do...?”

“It’s obvious. There’s only one thing soldiers bound for hell can do.”

“And what’s that?”

“Drag as many enemies down with us as we can. Kill, and kill, and then kill some more. Teach the enemy that it’s simply not worth it to pick a fight with Belgaria. That’s the duty of soldiers who’ve been left to die.”

“Then what about the civilians...?” Marion asked, her voice quavering.

“I’ll spare them knives to kill themselves with. It’s a wretched life, being a prisoner of war.”

“Waaah...” Marion was crying again.

It was a calm, quiet night—so calm that it was hard to believe they were at war and so quiet that the Black Knight could not escape the young woman’s sobs.

✧ ✧ ✧

August 3rd—

It was a clear morning. As the sun rose, the Evergreen Infantry approached Fort Häupert again. Most of the mounted ballistae had been destroyed with flaming arrows, so the Belgarians could not attack as they had done the day before. Instead, everyone who could still move stood atop the stone walls, waiting. They had no reserves left.

“Here they come,” Marion said. She was standing beside Jerome, her eyes red and puffy.

“Hmph... One look and you can tell—they want to take the fort and kill all of us,” Jerome remarked. “They won’t retreat or change course. Unless by magic.”

That was when a strange report came from the lookout.

“Smoke rising to the east!”

Jerome cocked his head. He could see the black smoke. Is the forest ablaze? he wondered. The smoke isn’t spreading far enough for a wildfire.

Marion narrowed her eyes. “Smoke, from that direction... Could it be Estaburg’s base?”

“What?! Oi, someone get me a map!” Jerome barked. A soldier scurried off at once to meet his demand.

It seemed that Estaburg had noticed it as well. Their march halted, and a ruckus spread through their ranks. A thunderous sound echoed in the distance.

“Cannons...” Jerome muttered. The noise was coming from some ways away, but the roar was unmistakable.

“Could it be that someone’s attacking the enemy’s stronghold...?” Marion asked.

Taking on Estaburg’s stronghold was by no means a simple feat; it was presumably equipped with cannons and maintained a strong terrain advantage. Only the Seventh Army boasted the strength necessary to capture it. Lo and behold...

“It’s the Seventh Army!” one of the soldiers cried. “It’s General Coignièra!”

Jerome was finally handed a map, which he closely examined with stern eyes. It was roughly five lieue (twenty-two kilometers) from Fort Häupert to Estaburg’s base. Perhaps it was possible to hear cannon fire from such a distance, but if the shots truly were coming from the Estaburg stronghold, Jerome doubted that each blast would be so distinct.

Naturally, their foe was likely having the same thoughts, but the cannons were continuing to blare, and smoke was rising from the direction of their stronghold. Even an idiot could tell. While their core unit was out attacking a tiny fortress, the imperial army was taking their base.

Among the bright faces of all those stationed at Fort Häupert, Jerome alone watched the battlefield with a frown. “That trash...” he grumbled. “He courteously prepared the enemy’s next course of action for them. This strategy is...!”

“They’re changing course!” cried the lookout. “The army is changing course! They march east!”

“Hurraaah!”

The cheers were just as loud as they had been the day before.

“Don’t look away just yet!” Jerome yelled. “This is where it really begins!”

“Eh?” Marion, who had been rejoicing with the soldiers, opened her eyes wide. “What do you mean? Won’t the enemy return to their fort?”

“Just watch. His plans are never that gentle.”

Soon after the Evergreen Infantry entered the eastern forest, the roar of countless firearms being discharged shook the air. It came from among the trees, and it started so suddenly that even soldiers watching from afar cried out in shock. Of course, Estaburg’s soldiers were leagues more flustered.

“Wh-What’s the meaning of this?!” Marion screamed.

“An ambush,” Jerome replied bluntly. “Who’s to say Estaburg’s the only one who can set up an ambush in the forest?”

“But who...?”

“It’s gotta be the Seventh Army, right?” one of the soldiers asked.

“Eh?! Then who’s attacking Estaburg’s stronghold...?”

“That was all a ruse,” Jerome spat. He had already deduced the plan. “The smoke and the cannon fire were meant to deceive Estaburg’s core unit into thinking their fort was under attack, when really, they were the target all along. He knew they’d return in a panic, and now that they’re in a frenzy over the surprise gunshots...”

“The Black Knight Brigade!” one of the soldiers yelled, pointing into the distance from atop the wall. “I see General Coignièra’s flag too!”

No matter how many forces the Seventh Army mobilized, they were going to be at a disadvantage—thirteen thousand against twenty thousand. Any engagement would result in massive losses no matter the outcome, and yet...the battle Jerome was seeing was completely one-sided. By using the forest ambushes the Evergreen Infantry excelled in against them, Belgaria had caused chaos among its enemy’s ranks.

“This is our chance!” Jerome barked. “Anyone who can move, grab your spear!”

“Eeh?! What are you doing?!” Marion shrieked.

“That’s our prey, goddammit! Like hell am I giving it up to the Seventh Army! We’re sortieing! Open the gate!”

“Stop! Please! Everyone’s tired...”

Marion tried to protest, but her voice was drowned out by the soldiers’ gruff cries.

“Hoaaah! Let’s do this!”

“Revenge!”

“I’ll tear off their commander’s head!”

Jerome was far from kind enough to let a fleeing foe get away, and without a rallying cry, the weary soldiers would never find the strength to return to the battlefield.

“With me, men!” Jerome yelled. “Pierce their hearts!”

Two hundred soldiers rushed through the open gates. The enemy’s numbers were two magnitudes higher, but those who scattered in dismay after the ambush were no match for a unified group.

The commander of the Evergreen Infantry raised the white flag before the sun had even reached its peak. It was a crushing victory, completely unprecedented on the eastern front.

✧ ✧ ✧

The men of the Black Knight Brigade gathered before Jerome. The knight leading them, Holger, stepped down from his horse.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”

Jerome harrumphed. “I don’t remember telling you to come.”

“Was it too intrusive on my part? My apologies.”

“This was his plan, wasn’t it?”

“Yes... You didn’t read the letter? Well, the letter sent to you did not contain the plan in detail.”

“Tsk... Again.” Jerome kicked at the ground. Another of the tactician’s plans. Friend and foe alike were dancing on the palm of that man’s hand.

“Sir Regis’s plan was founded on the assumption that Fort Häupert would survive the first day of the attack,” Holger said with a wry smile. “We needed that much time to circumvent the battlefield from Marschtedt.”

“Tsk... Even our hard-fought victory was just a given to him!”

“Well, you could look at it like that... But I see it as him placing his trust in you, Sir Jerome.”

After grasping the state of the battle from Coignièra’s and Jerome’s letters, Regis had proposed a plan. In fact, he had proposed several, predicting a number of possible ways the enemy might act. One such prediction had evidently hit the mark.

Holger held out the letter. “He started it off with a list of books appropriate to our situation.”

“That damn attitude is what irritates me the most!” Jerome snarled. He snatched the letter from Holger, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it on the ground.

“Incidentally... Acting as your proxy is too great of a burden for me,” Holger said. “I’m getting rather stiff shoulders, so could you come back already?”

“General!” The riders of the Black Knight Brigade dismounted and kneeled. “Please return!”

Jerome looked over them. “You lot, what was that battle back there?” he growled, sounding rather irritated. “It’s been a month—a single measly month—and you’ve become that dull already? I’ll retrain you from the ground up!”

“Y-Yes, sir!” the knights replied. Their voices were mixed with both fear and delight.

Jerome turned back to the tiny Fort Häupert. Its stone walls were scorched, its gate on the verge of falling apart. Standing outside, soldiers and civilians stood in strict lines. Many had tears in their eyes.

“Turn to the hero, General Jerome...” Marion ordered. “All hands, salute!”