Chapter 1: Preparing for What Comes Next

Two days after Gaius Beldarus’s coronation, Sashalia called a meeting in the Kobold Kingdom’s assembly hall. Before the meeting, Gaius, Sashalia, Darke, and Dwaemon waited in the storage hut for the kobold men to join them. Soon, five little kobold girls came to bestow Gaius with his new crown.

“Your crown for today, Your Majesty!”

“Thank you, but, ah... You don’t need to make me a new one every day, though,” Gaius said bashfully as the flowery wreath was placed on his head. They’d even hung a chain of white flowers around his neck. His companions struggled valiantly not to laugh at the mismatch between his grizzled features and the cute ornamentation.

“But we want to! In fact, we’d like to make one in the morning and one at night! Everyone’s fighting over who gets to make them!”

“A-Are they? Well, I don’t want you fighting.”

“It’s okay! We’re way stronger than the boys!” The girl flexed her muscles, as if to prove the point that the issue had already been decided.

The Kobold King hurriedly chided them not to use violence.

“Oh? You’re putting wreaths around his ankles, too? That’s a lot,” Sashalia remarked to the fluffballs clinging to Gaius’s legs.

“Yeah! These flowers smell really good!”

“They do have a very strong scent, don’t they?”

“Uh huh! You know how the king’s feet smell really bad, right? We all felt sorry for him, so we came up with the idea of putting flowers that smell good on him!”

“Well, the king’s about to cry from how considerate you’re all being, so maybe you should stop with what you’ve already put on him, okay?”

“Okaaay,” the girls all said and shuffled out, though they didn’t seem to understand what was wrong with what they’d said. They were replaced by the men, led by Red Eye and Rain Grass, as well as the elder and his granddaughter Hopping Rabbit.

“Sorry for the wait, little lady... Hm? Why does our king look like his spirit has left him?”

＊

“Release the humans we captured?!” The shrill shout came from Rain Grass.

In contrast to him, the elder, who normally would have been the first to object, was sipping on boiled water, not looking the least bit perturbed.

“That’s right. We don’t have the resources to hold them and we can’t spare anyone to guard them, either. We also can’t afford to fight them if they get violent. Plus, we’re not likely to get any more useful information out of simple adventurers.”

“Then let’s kill them! Some of them went after our women and children!” Rain Grass’s hackles were up.

But Sashalia merely went on, calmly: “If there had been casualties among the non-combatants, we would execute them, but technically they only attempted them harm. We’ll call it a royal pardon from our new king. Those we captured in combat will be released as prisoners of war, not criminals. We’ll have them pledge in writing never to harm the Kobold Kingdom again. Of course, we can’t count on them to hold to any such promises, so we don’t need to hold on to the documents afterward.”

Rain Grass opened his mouth to shout again, but Red Eye yanked on his tail to shut him up and asked, “There’s a reason for this, right, Sashalia?”

“Yes. It’s important for our future.”

“All right. Keep going.”

As the one who often took charge out in the fields, Red Eye commanded respect. The rest of the men all nodded in agreement. And Rain Grass had somehow ended up in Gaius’s arms at some point during this, so he was behaving himself as well.

“As I explained before, compared to our humble kingdom, the outside world has an almost infinite population and resilience to match. The scale is just too different. Even if we win the next battle, or the one after that... It won’t be easy to keep winning forever.” Sashalia spread out a map of Igris and indicated the territory of the Kobold Kingdom, laying out the situation to the men. “That’s why our end goal is to have the humans give up on invading our kingdom altogether. We want their opinion of us to be ‘We can take some kobolds down, but it’s not worth the losses. They don’t have useful resources or land, so let’s just leave them be.’”

The group listened to the red-haired half-elf, looking back and forth between her and the map.

“And to make that happen, we’ll have to engage in dialogue with the humans and find common ground between us. And there may come a time when we need to negotiate with our enemies. We need to make sure they don’t think of us as vicious beasts that can’t be reasoned with.” Sashalia went on. “What I’d really like to do is demand a ransom for any prisoners of war who are nobility, which would conform to the human world’s notion of post-battle behavior, but... the people who attacked us were adventurers, so we can’t do that, unfortunately.”

Most of the men were cocking their heads, unable to get a good grasp on Sashalia’s logic. That was only natural, considering they’d spent their whole lives in the forest.

Sashalia was at a loss as to how to convince them, when...

“So basically, we want them to think, ‘if we fight with the Kobold Kingdom, we’ll get hurt, and there’s no benefit to taking them out, but they’re not monsters, and we can reason with them, so we should just leave them alone.’ So we have to make sure they know we’re easy to talk to,” Gaius broke it down for them.

At this, the men began nodding along as the light dawned. “I get it!”

“Right... That’s what I should have said...” Sashalia was a little ashamed that she’d gone on for so long without considering who she was talking to, but she soon pulled herself together with a quiet, “ahem.”

“I understand that you’re thinking about the future now, Sashalia. I think we should do as you say with the prisoners,” Red Eye agreed.

“Yeah!” the others chorused.

“Thank you, Red Eye, everyone.”

“But if we don’t get through their next attack, we’re not gonna be able to get them to give up, right?” Rain Grass asked, getting down off of Gaius’s knee.

“You’re exactly right. Which is why I’d also like to discuss our next battle here. I put the plan together rather quickly, so I’m sure it still has flaws, but I believe I’ve come up with a practical strategy we can use.”

“‘Practical?’” The kobolds all exchanged glances.

“Elder, Hopping Rabbit, could you come here, please?”

The elder and his granddaughter sat down on either side of Sashalia. Looking over the crowd, the old shaman took a deep breath and scratched behind his ear before starting: “Well, before we get into that, how about we start with a bit of a history lesson?”

＊

“I’ve told you before that we’re descended from goblins, yes? D’you remember that?”

A commotion went through the kobolds at the elder’s words.

“What?! Really?!”

“I kinda feel like I’ve heard that... maybe...”

The old kobold sighed. “Yes, that’s what I figured... Well, no matter.” After grumbling to himself for a moment, the elder began his tale: “Once upon a time, there was a goblin who met a divine beast in the Greatwood and fell in love.”

“Ooh,” the group stirred.

“The divine beast had beautiful silver fur, like a wolf god. After a great love affair, the two ran off together, their love producing a child. That child was our ancestor. That is why we kobolds have the form we do.”

“Aah...”

While Gaius and the kobolds oohed and aahed in wonder, the dwarf Dwaemon crossed his arms and marveled in a slightly different way.

“Got it on with a wolf, eh? Yer ancestor had interesting taste, fer sure.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. Those proclivities are a lot more common than you’re thinking, young man.” Darke’s face appeared at the young dwarf’s shoulder, her movements like a snake.

“What?! Is that true, sis?!”

“Why, yes. I heard about it in a port town where I was working once. They bring female goats along on lengthy sea voyages for their milk, you see, and some of the sailors get so pent-up that they become very friendly with these goats, or so I hear.”

“Wow, ye’re jus’ a font of knowledge, ain’t ya, sis? I’m impressed! I really respect ye!”

“Heh heh heh. Good little boys won’t follow their example, though. You wouldn’t want to catch something nasty from them, would you?”

“Excuse me! Will you two please shut your mouths?!” hissed a voice.

The elder harrumphed once before continuing. “...Ahem... Moving on...”

Darke raised her hand before the elder could even begin his next sentence. “Question!”

“What is it, pale one?” The elder turned to her.

“These ancestors of yours, which was the male and which was the female?”

“Hmm? How does that matter?”

“One way is more exciting than the other, so I think it’s very important to know.”

“Oh, you bet. When I get back to Great Anvil, the cartoonists are gonna ask me about that when I tell ’em the story.” Dwaemon chimed in.

“Will you two please be quiet?” pleaded the same voice as before.

“Can I continue my story?” The elder asked with a sigh as Sashalia stared daggers at Dwaemon and Darke.

After a short break in which the red-haired half-elf punished the two troublemakers by pinching their noses, the old kobold resumed his tale.

“Our ancestor kobolds, the descendants of a goblin fairy and a divine beast, were blessed with the mystical power to seek help from the spirits. This allowed them to live peaceful lives in a corner of the Greatwood. And we’re still close with the spirits, aren’t we? Not like those barbaric humans or the elves who left the forest behind.” The elder paused, then continued on. “Because of our lineage, we speak half with our bodies and half with our souls. Our speech is easily heard by human ears despite our volume and the shape of our mouths, isn’t that right, Your Majesty? This is because we speak directly to the soul.”

“Come to think of it, Fog said something like that, didn’t she? I hear you guys talk about how souls smell all the time, too.”

“Indeed. When we speak to someone, we are also half-able to smell the scent of their soul. This makes it easy for us to tell what someone is like and what they’re feeling.”

That was likely why the kobolds hadn’t feared Gaius in the way that humans and animals did.

“Now, getting back to our ancestors. A few times long ago, some idiot or another saw fit to mock the ley lines of the Greatwood, causing periods of great growth of the forest. At these times, our settlements were overcome by the forest and magical beasts, and our ancestors were scattered. With time, our mystical power faded, our bodies grew smaller, and we ended up the way we are now.”

“Huh...”

“The power of our ancestors now only survives in the few of us who have the skills to be a shaman. The spirit-speak that we shamans use is the power the divine beast blessed us with, to commune with the spirits. We call this ‘soul howling.’ Our ancestors could speak directly with the spirits, but we don’t possess that much power now. Really, the best we can do is annoy them with chirps and whistles.”

The kobolds all nodded, saying to each other, “so that’s how it is” and “I get it now.”

Meanwhile, the elder muttered, “I’ve told you all this more times than I can count,” his shoulders sagging.

“Okay, so we get the stuff about our ancestors, but what’s that have to do with us now?” Red Eye asked Sashalia, crossing his arms.

“I’m glad you asked. I intend to employ your spirit-speak in battle.”

“Spirit-speak? But like the elder said, it’s just an ability to make weird noises. And we don’t even know who’s making the noises or where they come from. It annoys the shamans, so our parents teach us right away to never do it if we figure out how. I remember when I learned how, I did it as a prank once and my mom and adults all over the village yelled my ears off about it. It’s just one of those things your parents drill into you, like ‘don’t waste food’ and ‘go to the bathroom at night so you don’t wet the bed.’”

“Yes, that’s right. And I think that’s just the problem. The power of customs is frightening. Over the course of a few generations, or a few dozen of them, something gets branded as useless, annoying, forbidden, and everyone turns their back on an incredible power. I’m guessing there’s been absolutely no research or study into spirit-speak, has there?” There was a twinkle in Sashalia’s eyes as she spoke.

Red Eye knew just how despondent the half-elf had been only a few days ago. A mix of surprise, interest, and joy played on his face at her change in demeanor as he waited for her to continue.

But Sashalia’s next words were directed not at him, but past him, toward the entrance of the meeting hall: “Come on in, ladies!”

“Comiiing!” At her summons, the Kobold Kingdom’s most powerful faction, the housewife alliance, strode into the meeting place. Some carried sticks, others baskets full of rocks, and yet more even had large rolls of parchment with them.

“Come on, clear a path!”

“Get your butt outta the way!”

“Ow! Stop poking me!”

“You’re stepping on my taaail!”

“Mom?! What?! Don’t kick me!”

Over the protests of the men, the women roughly cleared the men out of their way over to Sashalia. They spread out a map that covered several pieces of parchment in front of her and quickly placed an array of small, different-colored stones on it. Then, when the map was ready, most of them filed out, leaving only a few housewives to stand around the map with their sticks as if in formation for some kind of ritual.

“Thank you, ladies.”

“Good luck, Sashalia!” replied several of the women as they left.

With a bashful smile, the half-elf turned back to the men. She cleared her throat, and extending her hands to draw attention to the map, declared: “Now, let me explain just how our spirit-speak tactics will work.”

＊

“As Red Eye said, all spirit-speak amounts to now is some annoying noise. However, your ancestors were likely able to use it to hold conversations. If you concentrate, you can control the rhythm and duration of the sounds you make.”

“None of you have had to do it, so you probably don’t know this, but this is part of performing spirit magic when you’re a shaman,” added the elder. “It’s like doing a vocal warm-up before singing, only you don’t make the sounds using your actual voice. It’s much easier than calling the spirits directly, so if you’ve got any talent you can learn it right away.”

“Oh... Yesterday afternoon, people were saying someone was chirping in spirit-speak. That wasn’t just some kid messing around?” Rain Grass asked.

Sashalia shook her head. “It wasn’t. It was an experiment I was conducting with the elder and Hopping Rabbit, and some of the wives and children that can use spirit-speak. I wanted to know how it worked and how far it could travel.”

“Oh yeah, somebody told me once that you can’t hear it if you’re too far away.”

Since it was considered nothing more than bothersome noise, no one had bothered verifying any of these things. After all, who pays attention to garbage on the side of the road?

“I had thought that the sound might have no limit, but we determined the range of spirit-speak from the village to be just about to the mouth of the riverbed and the forest’s edge. Beyond that, the sound became too faint to hear.”

“Oh yeah?” The men only reacted as if they’d just heard some useless trivia.

“...Do you mean for us to use it to signal to each other? Say, if we spot an enemy?” Red Eye had been listening with his arms crossed, but he spoke up when he thought of that. All the other kobolds also seemed to just now be realizing this noise could actually be useful.

“Are ye tellin’ me ye’d never thought of somethin’ so simple before?” The young dwarf looked around in exasperation.

“That’s just the way it is, Emon. But think of it this way: there are probably a lot of things in the human world that, to a kobold, would be considered illogical or inefficient.”

There are countless examples of someone with an outside perspective finding something obvious when it never would have occurred to those on the inside. Assumptions and blindness that come with customs and tradition are more serious than someone who isn’t part of that culture might think. It’s not rare for religion, tradition, or values to halt the progress of cultural or technological advancement for even hundreds of years.

“You’re totally right, Sashalia. If you hadn’t pointed it out to us like this, we probably never would have thought to change how we look at spirit-speak. It never would’ve occurred to us unless our village... I mean, our country, ended up in a situation like this.” Red Eye crossed his arms, as if convincing himself of what he was saying even as he said it.

“You’re right, this is much faster than sending messengers back and forth. The sound will travel farther than normal howling, and we don’t have to worry about the wind wiping it out, either. It’ll be perfect for the guards at the mouth of the river to report back to us... That’s what you mean, right?”

“Yes, that was my first line of thought, too, that we could use it instead of alarms or smoke signals. But this power could prove even more useful.”

The kobolds all cocked their heads.

“We can use the length and the pattern of the sounds to create a code. For instance, ‘short-long-long-long’ to mean ‘1.’ Or codes for places or actions. I have several ideas already, so I’m hoping to get everyone’s input before I decide on them. If we combine these patterns, we can send much more information than a simple alarm could. And in an instant! Imagine being out on a hunt and being able to coordinate your movements, even when you’re far away from each other.”

After Sashalia’s explanation, an older housewife let out a code in spirit-speak. That got a bigger reaction than anything else thus far from the men, especially those of them with shaman training.

“But Sashalia, it’s gonna be a pain to send and listen for these while we’re busy fighting,” one of the older men objected.

“Yes... That’s why those soldiers tasked with listening to and sending messages should be focusing entirely on doing that, not combat. I think we could call them ‘spirit messengers.’”

“Soldiers that don’t fight, huh...?”

It was only warriors that went on hunts. For the kobolds, battle was synonymous with hunting, so this was another idea that was obvious to someone from the human world that the kobolds would have never considered on their own.

The older kobold who’d spoken nodded to himself several times, deep in thought.

“Spirit messengers, huh? I’ve got no shaman training, so I don’t totally get it, but it seems like it’d be really difficult to keep track of everything everyone’s sending around.” Rain Grass looked very pensive, still in Gaius’s arms.

“I have ideas about that, too. Please look at this.” Sashalia directed everyone to the parchment before her, clearly expecting this reaction. “We’ll organize the information here.”

“On the map?”

“Yes,” the half-elf said, indicating the stones atop the map. “We’ll say each white stone is an ally. And each black stone is a group of enemies. It’ll be even easier to understand if we use different sizes of stones to represent the numbers in a group, or we could put symbols on them. These blue stones will be spirit scouts who we’ll have hiding up in trees or in bushes.”

Rain Grass and the rest of the kobolds watched the map.

“A scout reports the enemy’s movement. The ladies around the map receive the spirit-speak, and... if you would.”

One of the housewives standing next to Sashalia used a stick that had been fashioned into a T-shape to push a stone. The stone, which had been polished smooth, slid across the map with a faint noise.

“They move a black stone. Now, we need to give directions to one of our units.”

Sure enough, another housewife pushed a white stone with her stick in much the same way.

“We can even have several people doing this in multiple places at once.”

The housewives used their sticks to move the white and black stones around the map at the same time. It looked almost like several small creatures were rushing over the surface of the parchment.

“This is how we’ll keep track of our allies’ and enemies’ positions during battle.”

It was a fact for all humanoids, not just kobolds or humans, that a commanding officer can only be immediately aware of what’s happening within their ranges of sight and hearing. Their orders can only reach as far as their voice does. Beyond that distance, they must send a messenger or a signal using flares, horns, drums... That of course limits the contents of their message, naturally leading to a delay in the time it takes to be received. But with this new system, the kobolds could achieve overwhelming superiority in the speed and accuracy of their communications. Their commander could maintain a visual understanding of the status of the battle and the positions of their allies and enemies. All armies strategized before battle using pieces atop maps, but no country on the continent had yet devised a way to update the board in real time. This was in the realm of dreams. Fantasy, really.

The men all gulped. Even the kobolds, who lived in the forest and had no experience with warfare, could instantly grasp what a boon this system would be.

“If we amass information here... let’s call it the command center... then there’s no need for individual squads to decipher every spirit-speak message. All the spirit messengers will have to do is send their reports to the command center and decipher the messages sent to them. As for the large amount of communication to the command center, the housewife alliance has enough members to handle that task.”

The fearless members of the kobolds’ strongest faction flexed and smirked. Their sons and husbands scrunched up their shoulders and shrunk, cowed.

“For kobolds who were born and grew up in the Greatwood, this might be hard to understand, but for humans, being in the forest is like being blindfolded. If they let their guard down, they could lose sight of their way home. On the other hand, you are sensitive to scents and sounds and have a great sense of direction, too. The trees do nothing to hamper your movements. Last time, the best we could do was lead the adventurers into the forest and run around, but now... with this technique, we could split up, slow them down, create diversions, maybe even team up to take them down.”

Sashalia paused there, then corrected herself, expression solemn: “No, we will take them down.”

＊

Dwaemon hummed to himself for a moment before speaking up. “But, y’know... Ye probably cannae do this on the move, right? If the old man’s back here commandin’, won’t that be a real blow to our fightin’ power? If we wanna take out groups of ’em in the forest or hold ’em off at the river mouth, I really think we’re gonna need the old man swingin’ ’is sword around.”

A stir went through the kobolds when the young man made his point.

Sashalia raised her hand to quell the commotion and answered the dwarf’s question. “True, the command center is not something a fighter can take to the battlefield... And it is a heavy blow to our fighting power to remove Sir Gaius from the front lines. However, this strategy will be much more advantageous in the long run than what Sir Gaius alone could contribute in combat, as much as that is. We’ll make up for the loss... one way or another.”

There was a short silence that was broken by Gaius, who had been silent up to this point.

“No, Miss Sashalia, Emon. It’s all right. There’s a way to utilize this strategy without reducing the strength of our front lines.”

Both of them turned to look at him at his unexpected words.

“Miss Sashalia, you will take command of our forces.”

“Hwah?!” Sashalia lost her balance, and the housewives around her hurried to hold her steady. “Wh-Wh-Wh-What are you saying?! I’m not like you, Sir Gaius—I’ve never even commanded a small force, let alone an entire army!”

“Neither had I, until the first time I did. But I was a failure at the Knights Academy; you were salutatorian. You’re much better equipped for this than me. And you’ve memorized all the military history documents in the archives, haven’t you? That’s more than enough of a foundation.”

“U-Umm, but... I-I only memorized them! Memorizing and theorizing are nothing like real battle! Even I’m aware of that!”

Gaius knew how much work Sashalia had done, no matter how hard she tried to hide it, much like her sword training during their days in the Knight Order. Her face was bright red and she was waving her arms in front of her, somehow staying upright thanks to the earnest support of the wives.

“Of course. But you’re also aware that all of my command experience was on the front line with a sword in my hand. I mostly fought under the orders of a general or the king. So I have no experience commanding an entire force from afar. Actually... This is a strategy no one’s ever used before. As the one who came up with it, you’re naturally the most qualified person to implement it. Out of everyone in the world.”

The kobolds and Darke all nodded in agreement and looked toward Sashalia. She looked away with a groan.

“It has to be you, Miss Sashalia.”

“But Sir Gaius...”

“I was always this close to failing out of the Knights Academy... Actually, maybe they just let me graduate because we were in the middle of the war at the time... The princess and the king were always calling me a dunce... and it’s true. I was one. I caused you a lot of trouble when we were in the Order, too.”

“That’s not true...”

“But even so—Or maybe because of that?—I’m confident in my ability to judge people.”

“Are you...? You didn’t even realize how badly the blacksmith in Ryburgh was misunderstanding you!” Sashalia grumbled, lips pursed.

“A-Ahaha. I didn’t? I didn’t, did I...?”

As Gaius smiled awkwardly and scratched his head, Darke pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.

“Say! If ye don’t wanna do it, how ’bout me? How’s ’at sound, old man?” Emon interrupted, waving one hand in the air enthusiastically and pointing the other one at himself.

“Hmm. The Great Strategist Dwaemon, eh?”

At this, the kobolds turned to the young dwarf, reacting with very different murmurings of surprise than how they’d responded before.

Emon’s words had become the spark for an outpouring of emotion from someone else, however.

“Gyaaaah! No! No way! Ahh, damn it!” Sashalia panicked, floundered, and then shouted as if all her thoughts were bursting out at once. “Fine! I’ll do it! I’ll do it, okay?!”

The kobolds all around shared their mutual approval of her decision. “All right! You’re in charge, Sashalia!”

“Yes, I think this is for the best~”

“I agree, I agree!”

“I don’t disagree!”

After her explanation of spirit-speak tactics, Sashalia had gained the respect and support of all the men. Gaius himself had asked her to accept the position, and none of the kobolds could possibly object to their king. They all knew how she had put her life on the line fighting to protect their women and children, and how badly she’d been hurt doing so. Their trust, friendship, and respect for her was already unshakable. The delicate half-elf was no longer a mere visitor. She was Sashalia Denan, comrade in arms to the kobolds.

Among all this celebration, Emon alone looked slightly dejected, until...

“I’m impressed, Emon!”

...Hopping Rabbit, the elder’s granddaughter who had been helping out Sashalia before, walked over to him. She gave the failed would-be tactician a deeply respectful look.

“Why’s that?”

“You got Sashalia to agree to do it by purposely suggesting the worst possible alternative! This must be a traditional dwarven negotiating strategy! I really am impressed! You’re amazing, Emon!”

“Whaaat...?”

“What did I say...? Why are you upset?”

The dwarf slumped his shoulders while Sashalia shouted to the celebrating crowd, “I’m gonna work you like mules, okay?! You’d better be ready! Graaah!”

Darke whispered in some of the kobolds’ ears and they responded with, “Yes, ma’am!” and “Aye-aye, ma’am!”

Gaius watched the scene fondly, then said to Sashalia, “We’re counting on you, General,” which caused her to jump and freeze.

“Sir Gaius? What did you just...? Why?” The half-elf turned to him jerkily, like an ill-fitted door.

With a smile only the Kobold King could make, he looked at her kindly (kindly for him, at least) and replied, “You are now the military commander of the Kobold Kingdom. It’s only natural that you should be a ‘General,’ isn’t it?”

“True, true,” Darke agreed with a laugh like a croaking frog.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait! Please, stop that! I couldn’t possibly!” The newly-appointed military commander tried to resist her new title, flustered, but all the fluff balls around her accepted it wholeheartedly.

“What the heck...”

“...That’s cool.”

“General! General!”

“Yay, General!”

“Ooh, General, you’re so dreamy!”

“Good luck being General, Sashalia!”

“Woohoo!”

“Nooooo!”

...This was how the Kobold Kingdom gained a new defensive strategy, as well as a military commander.

＊

After obtaining a king in Gaius and a general in Sashalia, the kobolds went to work in a truly astounding way. Under Sashalia’s command, they rapidly constructed a base of operations and began to formulate a defensive strategy.

They had always been a diligent and earnest bunch, but with the morale afforded to them by their new leadership, it seemed they were starting to develop beyond the states they had been in before, both mentally and physically. When she was alive, Fog had often objected to comparisons of her people to dogs, but when the fabled origin of their species was taken into account, it started to make sense that they had wolf- or dog-like sociableness and loyalty to their leader.

Sashalia was surprised to see the kobolds’ physical builds improving in such a short time. When she brought this up to the village elder, the old man theorized, “Well, kobolds are half-descended from gods, so our whole race shares a spiritual bond. Perhaps if the group flourishes in their minds, it reflects in their bodies as well, I suppose?” Apparently, even he was not entirely sure.

Regardless, the psychological and physiological benefits of Gaius’s enthronement and Sashalia’s installation at her new post on the entire community of kobolds could not be denied.

＊

“...Now this is unexpected,” Gaius muttered, impressed.

In his hand he held a rope woven from black linden fibers. In front of him was a tree-eating lizard, its eyes covered thoroughly with a thick cloth, plodding slowly along like a cow.

“These guys get real docile as soon as you cover their eyes. Maybe they think it’s nighttime so they get sleepy or something. They’re almost never active at night,” said Rain Grass. The flax-colored kobold hunter sat atop the lizard and spoke as if letting Gaius in on a secret. “So if you put a bunch of bewitching herbs on a tree and get ’em all loopy with them, you can put something over their eyes and then do whatever you want with ’em. When a lizard got too close to our old village, we used to hunt them like this and then dump them somewhere far away.”

“I see. I have to say, I wasn’t expecting it to be so easy.”

“Well, I make it sound easier than it is. They change their territories all the time, and it takes some practice to figure out what kinda trees they’ll go for. You gotta use a lot of herbs, too. Plus, you know, they will wake up and attack if you accidentally stick ’em with a spear, so you gotta be careful hunting them.”

“Ah, so that’s why.” He’d seen White Fog pierce a vital blood vessel on a tree-eating lizard in one blow before. Mastering that skill had likely been necessary for situations like this.

“Anyway, there’s plenty of preparation involved. It’s not like you can do this any time you happen to run into one in the forest.”

“Right. Oh, does this work on bugbears, too?”

“Nope. Must be because of those livers they got. The herbs don’t seem to work on ’em. So we either chase ’em into a big trap or use these guys.” Rain Grass patted the reptilian monster on the back.

“You use the lizards?”

“Yeah, they fight a lot with the six-legs. We use that. Tree-eaters are territorial and six-legs are just violent by nature. So if a bear wanders near our hunting area, we lead one of these guys to it. When they fight, the lizard usually wins, and the lizard’s easier for us to deal with, so it works out nice for us.”

“Wow! Amazing! That’s amazing, Rain Grass! This is stuff only forest-dwellers know!” Gaius spoke admiringly, eyes sparkling like a child’s.

“It’s not like I came up with it, stupid! This knowledge was hard-earned by my ancestors, who probably died figuring it out.”

“Mm... Experience built up over the generations... It’s a wonderful thing.”

“As for me, I learned it from Fog,” Rain Grass said quietly.

“...I heard you two were close as kids.”

“Yeah. She lived nearby and played with me all the time. She always looked after me, and my friend Sharp Ear too, since he was in diapers. Did you know? She was always leader of the pack of all the kids, even though she was a girl. She was so tough, one time she beat up five older boys all on her own.”

“Hmm... I never heard that, but I can imagine it.”

“Right?”

The two of them laughed together.

Maybe reacting to their laughter, the tree-eating lizard cried out sleepily, “Gweh!” The human and kobold were scared into silence for a moment.

“Anyway, that’s why she became a hunter so quick. By the time I got taken on my first hunt, she was already holding her own among the warriors of the village.”

Gaius nodded.

“She led our hunts for a long time, but she’d get real mad and hit you if you screwed something up. It was real scary! I thought she’d mellow out a little when she took Sharp Ear as her husband, but no such luck! She was still a complete hard-ass. Everybody was bummed about that.”

“Ha ha ha.”

“...And Sharp Ear... He wasn’t strong at all, so he shouldn’t have pushed himself like that.” Rain Grass muttered to himself, looking off into the distance.

Gaius had heard about this from the elder. When the kobolds’ previous village was attacked by adventurers, Rain Grass had remained there, fighting until the end. He’d seen terrible things, fought on even while things slipped through his fingers, and come back alive to continue to protect the things that remained.

“Thanks, Gaius. Thank you for saving my friends’ kid.”

So Gaius accepted the warrior’s thanks with a short “Mmm,” acknowledging it without humility.

As the two continued on, letting the conversation drop, they eventually saw in the distance a group of kobolds waiting with ropes, cloth, and sticks to receive the lizard.

“Mmh, I kinda gotta take a leak after riding this thing... Hey Gaius, wanna go for a piss after we hand this guy over?”

“Sure.”

The two warriors chuckled to each other and continued on their way to their fellows.

＊

The hastily constructed command center in the village square was really nothing more than a flattened floor with a roof over it. Nevertheless, it currently served as the kingdom’s brain and nervous system.

“Miss General, a spirit-speak report. They’ve finished installing a new trap. It’s around here.”

“Oh! Thank you. Umm, okay, here...”

After receiving a report from one of the housewife spirit messengers stationed at the command center, Sashalia marked down the symbol for “trap” on the great map spread out before her. The map was a product of hard work on the part of everyone in the village, especially the kobold hunters who were always running around in the area. A human outsider would sum up the whole of the Greatwood as “a bloody big forest,” but those who lived within it were familiar with the density of the trees in each area and all the changes in elevation as well. The map had any useful landmarks and dangerous areas noted on it and included anything that Sashalia deemed necessary for a war map to have.

“They’re done here too, Missy.”

“Oh. Right!” She marked another area as another report came in.

They’d started out just using spirit-speak during the construction of these traps to practice using it in the case of real battle, but they had discovered that it allowed them to keep track of materials and personnel from the command center, leading to much more efficiency in their operations.

“Bloody Claw’s unit has almost finished transporting the materials, so instruct Leaf Tail’s unit to receive them and begin the next stage of the work.”

The lady Sashalia had addressed moved her mouth soundlessly, eyes on the map, then looked up at Sashalia and reported, “Sent... Mhm, and they sent back ‘Got it.’”

“We’ve gotten used to this pretty quick, huh?”

“Well, we do practice every day. I’d say we’re good at it.”

The spirit-space in which the kobolds with shaman training exchanged their soul howls apparently exhibited the flow of time differently than the outside world. It was difficult for a human to understand experiencing two different senses of time; it was likely only those who did experience it could truly understand the feeling.

The spirit-speak soldiers had memorized all the tactical codes they’d thought up with surprising speed. This was likely due to their quickened sense of time brought about by their shorter lifespans, their race’s inherent learning speed, and possibly just a passion for the material. They’d even quickly developed a system based on regular pronunciation for uncoded communication, which was a delightful surprise to Sashalia.

“Sister Sashalia, can you help me with something?”

A kobold boy with rough, barklike fur had wandered into the command center.

“Now, Pinecone Fur, you know you can’t bother Sister when she’s busy,” said one of the ladies around the table.

“Aww, I’m sorry.”

Sashalia looked up from the map and smiled. “It’s all right, ma’am. What did you want help with?”

The boy’s tail wagged as he explained. “The little kids want me to read them picture books, so I asked Fluff to borrow some of Brother Emon’s, but I don’t even understand the titles.”

Sashalia glanced behind the boy and saw a crowd of small, fluffy children. The boys who were still a little too young to become warriors were looking after the young children in place of the busy housewives. Sashalia had taught Pinecone Fur and his friends to read, so he was looking to put that skill to use in entertaining the young children. Even the children were doing whatever they could to help out.

“Can you tell me which of these would be good to read to the kids?”

“Hmm... I haven’t read many of Emon’s picture books... Which did you want to borrow? One of the ‘Iron Knight Iwanoshins’?”

“Umm... They say, ‘The Priestess Repents, Part VIII,’ ‘A Lesson in Nighttime Etiquette with the Head Maid,’ and ‘Night Battle Drills with the Female General.’”

Fluff must have grabbed a stack from Emon’s secret stash and not from the books he had set aside for the children.

“...That priestess has got a lot to repent for, huh? I wonder how many volumes there are...”

“Does ‘repent’ mean something bad?” The young kobold cocked his head with a curious sniff.

“No, I wouldn’t say that...”

“Okay, I’ll read them the priestess one, then.”

“You will not. I’m just going to take those.” Sashalia plucked the picture books out of the kobold’s arms.

The little kids gave a chorus of “awws” in protest, but accepted Pinecone Fur’s suggestion of a game of tag instead and all filed out of the command center.

“That was really tiring...” Sashalia sighed, shoulders slumped, to which the housewives all laughed.

“Ahaha! It’s hard work looking after the little ones. You’ve gotta make sure they don’t go off and get into trouble, so it’s no wonder it takes a lot out of you.”

“Helps that the older kids are watching over ’em now, though.”

Sashalia nodded along with the housewives, then put a hand to her chin and muttered thoughtfully, “Right, childcare... Why not a school while we’re at it...?”

“Uh-huh, they’re done here now, too... What is it, Sashalia? You seem distracted.”

“Huh? Oh, I’m sorry!” The red-haired general snapped back to attention and made a note on the map. “I was just thinking about the future. Like, maybe it’d be nice to make a school like they have on the outside. Oh, a school is where kids go to learn reading and writing and numbers...”

The housewives all looked at one another with blank looks on their faces.

“My goodness! This girl’s already thinking about after the war! Don’t get ahead of yourself now, dear.”

“Ahaha! Ain’t that confidence-inspiring? You’re right! We should all be thinking about after we win!”

“She’s way more dependable than my husband!”

“Come marry me instead of my hubby, little lady!”

The kobold ladies all surrounded their military commander, laughing and patting her on the head and shoulders.

Sashalia flushed and stiffened when she realized the implication of what she’d said, but she accepted the women’s teasing.

...It didn’t feel too bad.

＊

“Brother Emon! Let’s go play outside!”

“No way! Didn’t ye hear the elder say it’s gonna rain?”

Emon was inside carving parts for a trap with a knife when Fluff bounded up to him. There had been dark clouds in the sky since morning with a prediction of heavy rain later in the day, so all outdoor work had been suspended for the time being. Arriving home before Gaius and company, the young dwarf had taken the opportunity to craft some materials for traps.

“Big Sis is helping make ropes and Fishbone’s napping. I’ve got nobody to play with but you, Brother Emon. Let’s go play until it starts raining!”

“Why don’t ye go take a nap, too?” Dwaemon grumbled, shifting to keep himself in between the fluffball and the knife he was holding. He would never send the boy away, however.

“Whaaat? But I’m not tiiired... Oh, this is perfect! Can I have it?”

“That’s dangerous! Don’t touch it!”

Emon snatched a piece of wood away before Fluff could grab it. It was a stick with a sharpened tip, dangerous enough that a child might injure themselves with it if they weren’t careful.

“What would ye even use this for anyway...?”

“Well, for poking. It’s kinda thick, though.” Fluff stuck his tongue out and panted. Even though they weren’t playing, he was excited to be getting attention from his “older brother.”

“Poking... Ye mean ‘spear of bravery’?”

“You’re so behind, Brother Emon! Nobody plays that anymore!” Fluff cackled impishly.

“Oh yeah? That’s good.”

“Now everybody plays ‘two swords of bravery.’”

“Yer all idiots, ye know that?”

“So, in ‘two swords of bravery,’ you take two sticks, and—”

“I got it, I got it. Figured it out from the name.” Emon shook his head, passing on hearing an explanation of the game.

“Hmph.” Two cheeks puffed out like little snowballs.

“Hahh... You’re so silly. Yer big brother worries about yer future.”

“Eheheh, do you really?” Fluff scratched the back of his head in imitation of a certain someone. The motion threw off his balance, and he went tumbling backward.

Emon scooped him up and sat him on his lap as he resumed his whittling.

“Hey, Brother Emon?”

“Yeah?” Emon set down the stake he’d finished and picked up a new piece of wood.

“Can you beat those ‘adventurers’ with these?”

“...Yep. We can.” Emon nodded after hesitating a moment.

“Are the adventurers gonna kill me and Big Sis? Like they killed Mom?”

The knife went still.

“...I’m doin’ this so that doesn’t happen.”

“...Okay.” The little kobold sniffled, ears drooping, and curled up on his big brother’s lap.

The young dwarf ran his hand over the kobold’s small back a few times. After a little while, the scraping of a blade against wood became the only sound in the house, until...

“Yep, tha’s right, there’s nothin’ to be afraid of! It’ll be jus’ fine! Don’t ye worry ’bout a thing!” Emon took a deep breath and laid down his tools and materials, then picked Fluff up. He touched their noses together and said, “No matter how many times those adventurers come, I’ll beat ’em up and send ’em packin’, so don’t you worry.”

“...Yeah. And Uncle Gaius and Sister Darke are really strong, too.”

“But I’ll protect ye, so ye don’t need to worry.”

“Are you sure?” Fluff sniffed, tilting his head.

“Sure I’m sure! Has yer big brother ever lied to ye before?”

“I guess not!”

“Right?! Right?! Dwarves never lie!”

“Cool! Your farts really smell, but you’re so cool, Big Bro!”

“Ye got no right to complain ’bout me farts when ye come around sniffin’ ’em every time I do!”

“I get worried since they smell so bad.”

“Yeah, well, I’m worried about yer head.” Emon sighed, his shoulders slumping. Fluff licked him on the nose.

“So jus’ sit tight and watch yer big brother work.”

“Okay!”

Emon sat Fluff down on his lap again, but the kobold was snoring before he finished his next stake. He must have been pretty comfortable.

The young dwarf carefully exchanged materials so as to not wake the boy, continuing his work. And, as he shaved off splinters of wood, he muttered quietly as if to let himself hear the words, “That’s right. Next time, yer big bro’ll protect ye.”

＊

At night, when everyone was asleep, a dark shadow prowled next to Gaius’s dwelling.

“...What are you doing?” A voice quietly but firmly asked from behind the prowler.

“Ack?!” The figure shuddered in surprise and slowly turned around. “J-Just doing some laundry.” The moonlight revealed Sashalia in her pajamas. And there was indeed a laundry basket on the ground beside her to back up her claim. It would have been a convincing excuse, if not for the hour.

“This late at night, Lady Denan?” The other speaker, hidden up until now, turned out to be Darke, clad only in her underwear. She was carrying a sleeping Fluff under her arm, who still twitched his paws gently in his slumber.

“W-Well, you know, I’ve been stuck in the command center all day lately, right? This is the only time I’m free!”

“I had thought that Blossom was handling the laundry these days.”

“I-It’s too heavy for a small girl like her, don’t you think?” Sashalia seemed to be having trouble speaking clearly, and she was clearly hiding something behind her back with her left hand.

“I would think it would be much harder for someone with only one leg to carry it, myself.”

“I-I-It’s just part of my military training. Physical exercises.” The general waved her right hand about, the movement causing sweat to drip from her chin down onto her nightclothes.

Watching her, Darke sighed curtly and said, “Lady Denan, from a hygienic standpoint, I can’t recommend burying your face in a sock. Mayhaps a handkerchief would better suit your needs?”

“I-I-I-I did no such thing!” the delicate half-elf denied, shrilly.

“Also, what you’re holding in your left hand is one of Emon’s socks, not Sir Gaius’s.”

“Hah! That’s not true! This is definitely Sir Gaius’s stench! I’m always smelling it, so I can tell! I wouldn’t confuse them, even in the dark!”

“Well, I daresay you barreled right into that one.”

“Aaaaah!” Sashalia clutched her head and writhed around on the ground in embarrassment.

“You couldn’t have said you could tell the difference from the size or something like that...?”

For a little while, the sounds of Sashalia rolling around on the ground and groaning could be heard among the chattering of the insects.

“Wh-What are you doing dressed like that, anyway? Don’t you have any pajamas?” Only one of the brightest minds of the Igris Royal Knight Academy could change the subject so quickly and forcefully.

Unlike the flowing underclothes Sashalia usually wore, Darke’s undergarments displayed her figure for everyone to see. She did make an effort to wear clothes around Emon as much as possible, however, thinking the scars from her past abuses might be a bit too shocking for the young man.

“Fluff peed right on me in his sleep, see?”

Sashalia looked closer, and she could indeed make out that her colleague was clutching a bundle of sleepwear in her other hand.

Fluff had only just learned to stop wetting the bed, but after White Fog’s death he had started right back up again. Now he slept in diapers. Some must have leaked through in the night while he was curled up on Darke’s chest.

“I was thinking I’d bathe and change into my training clothes or something. And change Fluff’s diaper, too.” Meanwhile, Fluff himself was drooling and showed no signs of waking up anytime soon.

Darke took down a diaper from the nearby clothesline and checked to see how dry it was. She laid Fluff down on the grass and set about swiftly changing him. Sashalia watched her curiously, hiding the purloined sock in a pocket while the other woman wasn’t looking.

“...I’m surprised. I didn’t really take you for the child-rearing type.”

“Well, I’m not, so your instincts are correct.” Darke cleaned Fluff up, a faint smile on her face. The fuzzy pup wiggled once as if ticklish, but continued sleeping soundly. “The only things that matter to me are the things Sir Gaius loves and the people Sir Gaius cares about. And this little bed-wetter falls into both categories, so...here I am.” She gave her usual frog-like croaking laugh at that.

“...You use Sir Gaius as a basis for all your decisions, huh?”

“Indeed I do.” Darke nodded, placing the replacement diaper under the pup.

“Suppose I became Sir Gaius’s enemy, then. What would you do?”

“I suppose I would cut you down on the spot.” The black-haired former knight twisted around to the half-elf and gave her a rather crooked smile.

“You could agonize about it a little, couldn’t you?”

“Mm... I do think I would hesitate. Just a little, though.”

Of course, that moment of hesitation was probably the proof of Darke’s friendship. That was what Sashalia imagined, at least. The red-haired girl was starting to feel something for this colleague who was so unlike her, and she decided that if her feelings were reciprocated, well, then that was something to be happy about.

“Say, Darke.”

“...This isn’t good, Lady Denan.”

“What?! What is it?” Sashalia’s tone was serious to match the sudden grimace on Darke’s face.

“The little snowball’s fired a second volley...”

＊

“Aha, I found you.” Sashalia called out to Gaius when she spotted him, leaning on her cane.

He was crouching on the ground in his farming clothes, his work done. In front of him were some burnt embers. The sword Stingfeather was stuck into the ground before him, the light of the setting sun reflecting in its blade, and some flowers had been laid out before it.

“Oh, Miss Sashalia. Are you all right, being up and about like this?”

“I’m fine. It’s going to be more trouble down the line if I don’t get used to it, anyway.”

“...I suppose you’re right.”

“I know I am! I’ve got a lot of work to do! So I have to give it my all while I’m doing it, right?” Sashalia flexed her right arm with a laugh. “...Flowers for Fog?”

“Yeah. And the others who died in the battle.”

Sashalia looked past him and saw six other piles of ashes and flowers.

“Spear Tail was a great archer. He was always the one to bring down deer on hunts. Leaf Ear played the flute. He always had it on his hip, and he’d perform for us on breaks while we were working in the fields. Dancing Spider drew amazing art on the ground. The kids were always bugging him to draw for them. Sitting Bear always knew where to find mushrooms growing. He brought some to share with me a few times. Black Stag had only just become an adult, but he was so responsible. He was always helping out on hunts and in the fields. And Sand Claw was always napping. If the weather was good, even in the middle of a hunt, he’d find somewhere to lay out in the sun, and Rain Grass was always yelling at him. But he was strong, too. He could carry twice what some of the other men could.”

“You knew them very well...”

“They were all so friendly with me.”

Sashalia made her way over to Gaius, her cane tapping the ground. “Speaking of napping, there was someone who’d died at Snake Bush who was like that too, wasn’t there? A knight named Randy Hudley. Billy was always chewing him out.”

“Snake Bush, eh?”

The Battle of Snake Bush was a large-scale battle that had turned the tide of the Five Year War. The Knights of the Chain had suffered heavy casualties in that engagement, according to the records of the conflict.

“It sounds like it was quite an intense battle.”

“Yeah. Even just in my own unit, there were almost sixty knights and soldiers who died... Randy Hudley, Roy Hoken, Sopar, Dexter, Harry, Cody, Aster, Vince, Jeff Sutherton, Derrick, Duncan, Dwayne, Harry Eliott, Shelly Eliott, Earl, Clarissa White, Dom, Graham, Giles, George, George Green, Andre, Ray Wollstonecraft, Gren Savery, Gus Savery, Ray Savery, Ann, Clave, Claire Sums, Zack, Gilbert, Saki, Greg, Bugsy, Mickey, Hal Hoover, Ken, Jensen, Mallory, Eric, Hanson, Roxie, Charley, Raund, Erech Campbell, Leroy O’Connell, Riley Henderson, Martin, Shoho, Jack Carlisle, Richard, Samuel, Hans, John Stanley, Daniel White, Christiana, Jeff Soke, Quentin... We lost a lot of good people.” The names came easily to Gaius’s lips as he looked out into the distance.

Sashalia watched him, more than a little surprised. “You remember them very well...”

“Hm? I suppose.”

“I heard the second battle to capture Moonglow Castle was a rough one. Do you remember all of them, too...?”

“I do,” said Gaius, and he named another almost thirty people.

“What about Trincy?” That was another twenty names.

“The defense of Minoch.” Ten or so.

“The second battle at Jerone.” Twenty-five.

“The seventh defensive battle at Madentia.” Twelve names.

“And the battle of Vesperia?”

“Miraculously, everyone survived that one. Though Shin got his arm broken by a mace.”

“What did we have for dinner last night?”

“Huh?! U-Umm, err, hmm... kobroth?”

“...We had horned boar meat and a mushroom and egg stir-fry. Darke’s going to be angry with you.”

Gaius groaned, shoulders slumping.

Sashalia watched him and giggled.

“...Is it that amusing?” Gaius scratched his head bashfully. Sashalia smiled in response.

“It is.” It really is. He can’t even remember what he had for dinner last night, but he’ll never forget the names of each and every friend and subordinate he lost long ago in the war. That’s the kind of person he is. Sashalia was delighted to confirm to herself that the person she’d chased after was exactly who she thought he was.

“All right, let’s get back, Sir Gaius. Darke is probably finishing up dinner right now, and Blossom was helping her today.”

“That’s sweet of her. What about Fluff?”

“Fluff declared, ‘I’ll help!’ and tried to put a beetle into the pot, at which point Blossom bravely subdued him.”

“Don’t really want to imagine beetle stew.”

“We owe much to Blossom’s reflexes tonight.”

“Indeed.” Gaius stood with a grunt. “Shall we?”

“Let’s.”

“Can you make it back on your own?” Gaius was concerned for Sashalia, who wasn’t fully used to the cane yet.

“I can. I’m a little tired, though...” The redhead took a breath and asked with trembling lips, “C-Could I impose on you to h-hold my h-hand?”

“It would be no imposition at all.”

Gaius bent down and Sashalia gripped one of his thick fingers in her hand. They took slow, slow steps back to the house. In truth, it was actually harder to walk this way, but Sashalia didn’t mind that one bit.

＊

“Are you really going to use this, Sir?” the young knight with unruly brown hair—Seligman—asked Wyatt. His movement caused the light coating of dust on everything in the room, an inner chamber of the armory, to whirl into the air. “It’s too dangerous.”

Seligman’s attention was on a suit of red infantry armor being displayed on a stand. At a glance, it looked like an old-fashioned set of full body armor, but upon closer inspection it offered little protection to all but the most vital areas in order to lessen its weight as much as possible. It made sense that many who didn’t know its intended purpose and function would assume it was a decorative suit, only fit for ceremonial use.

Battlefield tactics had long been dominated by the use of sorcerers and the arrow-deflecting methods they employed. In order to make their deployment practical, armor had developed into two divergent styles: one providing thick protection for magically supported soldiers, and one light enough to ensure mobility. With that in mind, the red armor appeared to fall into the latter category. Touching it was enough to make it obvious that aside from the torso section it barely qualified as armor at all. It should have been more realistic, then, to just wear the breastplate by itself, but there was a reason in this case for the red metal to cover the entire body.

“In the event that we are defeated in this battle, we will not get another chance. So I will bring everything I have to bear, and use everything I must.”

Wyatt’s fingers traced a black pattern that had been engraved in the red coating on the armor. It was a magic crest, a curse mark that had been modified for practical magical use. The magic staves that had come into popular use in recent years were made of a mithril alloy and employed a magic crest that worked to refine the magical elements inside of a caster. Using such a staff would allow someone with no magical abilities to fire offensive magic, though only of one type. In other words, anyone could instantly be counted as magical firepower with one of these staves. The utility of that was instantly recognizable to anyone involved with the military, which was why as soon as this realization hit, every major power began gathering up magic staves and the mithril needed to produce them. Some even melted down magic swords in their possession to extract the mithril from them.

This suit of armor was almost like a magic staff that could be worn over the entire body. It was imbued not with attack magic, however, but with a strengthening spell. The thin layer of armor over the wearer’s body was not meant for defense, but to enhance the wearer’s power and agility. It was offensive armor.

While he had been in the capital for his training, Wyatt had used his connections to obtain this failed prototype the Igris royal engineers had been developing. It had been used once in a trial, then put into storage.

“But you suffered injuries the last time you wore it. Burns, broken bones, dislocated joints.”

There was a reason it had been deemed a failure. Mithril was required to activate the magical seal, but there was no reason to use so much mithril, enough to make multiple staves, just to strengthen one foot soldier. The armor’s performance simply did not justify its price. Worst of all, this attack armor forced all the burden of its effects onto its wearer’s body. The strain of movement, of its weight, even the heat the crest let off when it activated. This was a problem that could have been solved by increasing the purity of the mithril alloy, but that solution was untenable.

“That only happened because I had it activated for too long. But now I know how to use it and what its limits are. My body and this Scarlet Plate will both perform better next time.”

“But there’s no reason that you should have to use it yourself, Sir.”

“Are you volunteering then, Seligman?”

“You jest.” The young knight gulped and shook his head. In actuality, it had become rather difficult lately to discern when his superior was joking due to the ghastly expression always on his face.

“Anyway, how are our preparations coming along?”

“We should have all our food, water, medicine, shields, and the carts and people to carry them ready by our departure tomorrow.”

“I’m impressed. You had barely any time to put all of it together.”

It had been about four weeks since their defeat, and Wyatt and his men had been preparing for their next assault ever since, enduring a burning impatience all the while.

“Thank you.” Seligman had a surname, but was a commoner-turned-knight. He had caught Wyatt’s eye in part because of his origins and in part because he was a promising, ambitious young man. “We were able to recruit a considerable number of adventurers right up until the last minute. We’re covering the expenses and offering a reward, after all. They’re all eager to make names for themselves along with some money.”

“I see. I suppose we can’t expect any solidarity between these adventurers when it’s still every man for himself.”

“Well, for them, everyone outside of their immediate party is another business rival. Even so, I was able to gather two hundred ninety-eight people outside of those who can’t totally be depended upon. Counting temporary hires pulled in from elsewhere, we have three hundred twenty-five total fighters.”

“So three hundred thirty-one counting you, me, Dawson, Heatley, Ashcroft, and Humphreys.”

As part of their cover-up for Lady Keighley of House Zigan, they’d imposed a tight gag order on the participants in their previous mission regarding Gaius Beldarus’s presence among the kobolds. They’d used both money and threats to accomplish this. If they hadn’t, there likely would have been a lot fewer recruits for this mission, scared off by the very name “the Black Rose of Igris.” There were many, in fact, who had refused to come along a second time even under the threat of punishment. However, Wyatt didn’t have the time or patience to convince them.

Of course, no matter how much money was thrown around, people would talk, especially when “people” meant dozens of mercenary thugs. The more time went by, the fewer other adventurers were likely to join the mission, and the danger of the Black Rose of Igris informing the other lords of Keighley’s plotting increased. If the lords grew suspicious of the Adventurers’ Guild’s actions and Gaius Beldarus’s presence and looked into things, that would be it for them. Wyatt needed to put an end to things himself before that could happen, no matter what it took to do it. He had taken the absolute most time he could spend on his preparations. This was it.

He would reduce that village to ashes. Exterminate the kobolds. Dispose of Gaius and everyone else involved.

As long as we can cover this all up, the situation can be salvaged. Wyatt told himself, tracing the pattern on the armor once more.

“If I don’t get rid of him, it’s over for us and for Lady Keighley. I’ll kill him... I will kill him.”

...No, that’s not right. That wasn’t it at all. Of course, avoiding his downfall was part of it, but the burning emotion fueling him originated from elsewhere. That man had mocked him, had rejected him. A hero he had respected. And he, Wyatt, was going to take him down with his own hands. No, with every resource he’d amassed.

He’d used and abused all the authority he had to put as many pieces in place as he could. He’d even spent all his personal funds. He didn’t care. How could he?

How much is any of it worth, really? If I don’t defeat you, I mean nothing. If I don’t destroy you, I can’t acknowledge myself.

Gaius Beldarus. I set out now with the sole goal of killing you.