32 The Knight Moves, Quickly, Sharply/The Youngest Son Commands, Cunningly and Wisely

God, are you there?

Oh, my God... Why can I not move?

-Knight Agias VI-

A ringing that brings a headache, a smell that offends the nose. My limbs go numb, and I feel a dull pain throughout my body. I blink away the purple after-image and witness horror unfolding before me. Hundreds of soldiers are collapsed upon the field, with destruction leaving gnarled claw marks in the ground. Everyone is in shock. Groans echo through the ground.

So this is the power of a vampire Apostle. This is the destructive force that they serve. It’s got enormous power... but it’s excessive and artless. I catch glimpses of arrogance within. How little care goes into it.

The great elven magic I saw in the air that day in the dying light of the settlement’s sky... The musical thought process that went into a work both painstakingly precise and mesmerizingly grand in scale... it’s not even worth comparing. The lightning may injure and numb, but it’s nothing like the impact that hits at the very soul.

This is just brute force. To control violence that roams unchecked, that is why I have studied the art of war and trained in the martial arts. A great spell relying on mere brute force has nothing that can break the heart of Agias Willow.

“All troops! Form squares! Wounded to the center!” So far as I can see, our army is decimated. The losses among the militia and settler volunteers are particularly high. It might be that those wielding pikes were most susceptible to lightning, based on how it falls. The standard-bearers are all down, and even Father Felipo looks unsteady on his feet.

Our remaining forces are about... one thousand and a few hundred. The largest remaining force is the four hundred troopers of the Marius Company. They got lucky due to the fact that they were spread out to support the Origis Company.

Next are the Origis Company and Mage Company with two hundred some-odd each, but it’s probably better to have them fall back. There’s too many that can’t even stand. Might be from their use of magic. It’s possible. This wasn’t natural lightning, but a magical spell.

My company... Mmh, no need for roll call, they’re all here. Whatever the attack, they’re meaningless if they can’t hit. The fruits of Lady Kuroi’s instruction.

Said Lady Kuroi... is mounted but unmoving. The mud and blood plastered on her raven hair keep it from so much as swaying. I can’t see any movement from her spirit. A glance at the damage to her military cloak shows just how intense her charge was.

There’s something off with her. As though she’s unaware of her surroundings. The swords drop from her drooping hands, vanishing before they hit the ground.

This is... the turning point.

“All troops, prepare to retreat! Origis, command the retreat! Marius Company will cover the retreat as skirmishers against the enemy! Begin retreat!” My brothers. My comrades. I leave Lady Kuroi in your care.

The girl is hope itself. She’s a distant hope, one that’s still far from fruition. We seek, we pray, and we sacrifice for that hope. But because we cannot help but do so, we are also desperate for results. Otherwise we die.

But the battle doesn’t end today. No doubt the future holds both victories and defeats. Over and over. That’s to be expected. We are planning to overturn the natural order in this world of despair. We can’t always win, and we can’t change things with a single victory. The world isn’t that simple. We can only overturn the natural order by continuously, tenaciously fighting against it. Which is why with that understanding... we harden our hearts.

“All troops! Draw blades!” The wastelands purified by fire fill with new threats. Vampires and black wolves. Both are enemies of humanity itself that feed upon us. They open their maws, as though to consume our hope as they consumed many of our comrades.

And so we ride out to meet them. We charge forth. There’s no need for formations or tactics. These two hundred are the chosen few. All of them have seen battlefields without number. We’ve all endured the rigors of additional training; all of us, together.

We handle our mounts as though they’re part of us, forming a single, powerful warrior. Black wolf packs, mere beasts seeking blood, are nothing to us. We cut them aside without so much as a ripple through our formation. Hands other than mine are responsible for actually cutting aside the wolves. But I can feel the slash against my palm. As though we’re a single entity. As though we share a single soul.

Rocks are thrown from all sides. No need for defense. We can avoid them simply with our speed. We avoid the stones from ahead with the smallest necessary motion. It’s just a direct attack. Not a single trooper falls victim. Then we cut into our enemies, giving them no time to pick up their blunt weapons. Several troopers slash a single target in quick succession.

Ah, a hundred vampires before us. They have an air of strength to them. Seems they plan to slow us down, huddled together into packs. No need to hit them straight on. We split into two groups. I lead the left-hand group, and I think, without so much as reaching for my lance. One or two fire bombs will suffice. As for the timing... Not yet... Not yet... Now!

Explosions. Two in total, one each for the ones thrown from left and right. And I’m already directing my mount to the next target. The right-hand group does likewise.

We pin the enemy thrown into confusion by our Exploding Flame, and charge in as though passing one another. We easily break through, and split the two groups of a hundred into four groups of fifty. Each group begins enveloping and destroying their quarry. We quickly hack through the enemy.

A few steps in front of me. What seems like a commander, shouting orders. It begins gathering magic on its palm.

Burning Sweep. I take him down and the one next to him, killing two at once.

The field, the domain of the mounted warrior. Vampires are nothing to fear for us.

The two hundred reconverge, becoming one body again. There. The next target. An enemy unit. We leave the scattered enemies to Marius. We, instead, seek gathered groups of enemies. Taking down threats one by one.

While we’re still armed. While our mounts can run.

We’re coming for you. Taste our vengeance.

-Marius II-

Agias is like a meteor. His precisely refined motions are like paths of light.

“Individual platoons may attack at their discretion! Take care to stop each and every enemy that steps toward you.” I can’t yet move like he does. Nor can Origis.

Since the core of our army are the cavalry, that’s the cutting edge. They’re the company that is deployed at the crucial turning point, where they must win, and return without a scratch. The company’s not allowed to even have wounds.

“Move the wounded into the protection of the host! Don’t overextend yourselves!” On the other end, the troops who have experienced battle against the vampires have formed squares and are retreating. They, too, are precious. They hold the key to future battles.

“Weapons free! Use as much ammunition and lances as you need! Resupply at the host!” My role is to manage the battlefield so both groups can properly retreat. Keep the possibility of sacrificing some of my own to get them away... Ah, need to take care of that one.

“Ten of you, with me! We’ll take the one trying to flank!” A quick glance to Lady Kuroi.

It’s almost heartrending. The flames that burned red deep in her eyes are all askew, as though disconnected from any movement... but that’s just sentimentality.

“We’ll cut through the left! Concentrate!” People have spirits. Each spirit has a color, and there’s endless shades of them. The brighter, the richer, the more they move people. To greater heights of joy. To lower depths of pain.

“Go!” Lady Kuroi’s spirit is the deep color of rage. At least, that’s how she probably thinks of herself... but I think that’s not true. Her current state is proof of that.

Because people become sentimental when their spirits are moved.

“Good! Next! Those three!” Sentimentality, in terms of color, is transparent. A silent void. Because the spirit doesn’t tend to any color, they become unable to act.

“That’s... We’re going to reinforce that platoon! Ready fire lances!” Lady Kuroi isn’t a goddess. She’s human. The Apostle of Humanity. It’s fine for her heart to move, to break. Otherwise, she couldn’t really feel rage. Only people can feel the depths of that rage.

Or... perhaps even the gods are the same.

Why else would one come down to rage for humanity? Without a spirit, there’s no truth there.

“Damned humans! This is for my beloved brother! Die!” Well, that one’s a problem. It’s not just strong, it has a thirst for vengeance mixed into its hostility. A raging vampire. Amplifying their strength. I’ve already lost four troopers to it. I suppose I could attack it, claiming it as vengeance for my fallen troopers.

But, I won’t. Because the magic I feed into my fire lance is tinged with sadness.

Flame magic, Blue Scales.

“Wha?! Blue flames?! Two, no, three blue fireballs are slowly... following me!” That fire is tenacious. Know that there’s this kind of anger, as well. Not just the intensity of rage. But a slow, simmering hatred.

“Gyah! Poison?! This is a poisoned flame?! I-I can’t move!” Perceptive. According to Origis, I’m a bit saturnine in temperament. I don’t want to just end it by burning you. No, you lot can do to suffer more.

“Damned... human!” Seems I’m also something of a trickster. As you direct your attention to me, one of my troopers lops off your head from behind. The end.

“Platoons, take the wounded to the host! After which... After which, follow me!” Lady Kuroi. Oh dear, Lady Kuroi. No doubt you will dash out again. So I offer a single prayer for you.

As your heart desires.

As the heart, with divinity within, wills. That you remain that way.

“All platoons! Continue at your discretion! We’ll move to stop that!” The core of the vampire horde. The thousand that accompany the Golden. They’re heading not for the elves, but for us. Part of it is probably the fact they don’t want to deal with the Bell’s defenses. Even Agias doesn’t stand a chance against them.

So someone else needs to draw their attention.

“Hold! Hold a moment, oh human!” A voice from the sky. To fly through these clouds, a rather unique elf, I see.

“Our army will handle them! Focus your efforts on protecting your retreating forces! I have sent healers to them as well!” A dragon knight commander. With scores of leaves alongside. Better late than never, I suppose.

“Understood! We leave the field to you!”

“Yes, it’s ours!” It’s a small price to pay, if a smile and a nod reduce our losses.

Resentment is best left bubbling in the pit of the stomach.

No need to forget it, but it’s best left until you gain catharsis.