Intermission 1 — The Mountain Hunt

While this was going on, General Pujol’s men had rendezvoused on the salt road with reinforcements from the capital and were commencing their hunt through the mountains in earnest.

The soldiers had separated into groups of a few dozen under his command and were progressing cautiously into the mountains, wary of their surroundings. Soldiers hacked through the undergrowth and thick ivy impeding their progress using heavy axes. Behind them, others bound the cuttings together and moved them out of the way. Even as they worked, heavily equipped soldiers gripped their short spears, keeping watch. There was also a young soldier in the center of the formation, in the safest location, with a wooden whistle hanging from his neck, ready to blast at the first sign of any incidents.

There were at most thirty men in the immediate area, but if the whistle sounded, there were several groups of a similar scale that would hear it. Pujol had ordered that if any group encountered either the swarm raptors or another enemy force, they were to focus on defense and make absolutely certain the whistle was sounded.

Of course, one or two of the creatures could easily be dispatched by the escort. However, the area was thickly wooded, which led to poor visibility and difficulty grasping the enemy composition. Due to that, with his men’s survival foremost on his mind, Pujol had given the order that any resistance at all was to see the whistle sounded, despite the decrease in efficiency that may pose.

Consequently, their rate of progress had dropped significantly, but so had the risk to the soldiers. A drawn-out expedition would cause fatigue to accumulate and therefore increase the danger, but they, fortunately, had enough men to work in shifts along with plenty of sugar to reenergize them and alcohol to decrease their stress, all stocked in the rear camp.

It was a lavish plan, spending money like water, but Aura had personally told him to prioritize lives, so he wouldn’t let it concern him. The treasurers would have sour looks on their faces, but he was sure that Aura would understand his decisions. One could never have too much in the way of resources or manpower on the front lines.

A shrill whistle echoed through the air as the soldiers carried out their operation. The men ceased swinging their axes, and the escorts readied their spears.

“Captain!” one called.

“I know! The whistle is from the south. All hands, halt! Ready yourselves for battle! We will act as reinforcements for them!”

Aside from the escorts carrying the short spears, the men were currently equipped with axes and could not immediately charge into battle. They returned the axes to their hips and collected their spears from where they had left them nearby. Once the captain was sure they had all switched from the clearing equipment to their combat gear, he gave a loud order.

“Move out! Directly to the road first and rendezvous with the dash drakes there. Once mounted, make your way south along the road with all haste and provide aid! Understood?!”

This was the fifth time such orders had been given.

“Yes, sir!” the men chorused, not losing their wariness even though their tone was one of familiarity.

“Good! Begin!”

At the command from their captain, the group left the densely wooded area as quickly as they could.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

Upon hearing the whistle, nearby squads were to immediately move to offer support. Xavier Gaziel’s men from the Gaziel March’s army were also near enough to hear.

“Double time! We’re closest and have a duty to respond immediately!” Xavier called to his men over the wind, but the seriousness in his voice did not match the volume with which they were spoken.

That was because the whistle had come from the squad led by Pujol Guillén. He was the one who had ordered the whistle to be sounded no matter how trifling the numbers were, and he would not contravene that order. He had therefore sounded the whistle, but it was hard to imagine that his personal squad would take any damage from anything lurking in the dense forests.

Xavier’s optimistic outlook was half-correct and half off the mark.

“Andres, look after my drake; we’ll continue on foot. Let’s go!”

“Yes, Sir Xavier. Leave it to me. Godspeed!”

After entrusting his steed to his pale attendant, Xavier took his spear in hand and left the road for the trees. His progress through the plants was painfully slow on foot compared to the speed of heading down the road on his dash drake. The area had already been cut down, with the ivy and branches moved out of his way. Even so, the roots spread across the ground as well as its unevenness meant that a slight slip in footing could lead to serious wounds.

“Sir Xavier, take care!” Josep warned, having come up alongside him.

“Understood!” he called back strongly, keeping his gaze forward.

Xavier was smaller than the average Capuan man, and getting through tough terrain was a forte of his. For the knight’s part, Josep was average in height but broad-shouldered. Despite that, his breath was even as he raced alongside Xavier, proof of his abilities.

Eventually, they could hear the roar of raptors, the yells of men, and the clash of metal. They were close.

“Hah, hah, hah!”

Xavier kept his impatience—and his breathing—in check as he ran, the scene finally unfolding before him.

“Greeee!”

Several raptors had attacked the general’s group within the thick vegetation. Due to the density of the foliage, he couldn’t get an accurate count, but there were at least ten of them. That Pujol’s group had been the first to encounter the objective of their hunting excursion was demonstrative of how strongly he drew attention.

“General Pujol!” Xavier called, immediately spotting the man.

The general was around two meters tall, easily distinguishable even in a group. With the thick vegetation around them, even Pujol could not stop the enemy’s approach. The two groups were slightly intermixed and lacked the space to use their bows. Frankly, maintaining any formation—even an imperfect one such as this—was impressive considering the locale.

The general himself was carrying a large round shield of bronze along with a curved iron sword as he entered the melee.

“Oh, Lord Xavier? My thanks for the backup,” the general replied, slashing with his right hand and slaying one of the raptors before him. “Join the fray. Cut them down as you can but do not pursue.”

The general’s voice not only lacked any fervor from the battle but also any sign of shortness of breath.

“Understood! All hands, join the attack! Do not break your triplets! If one of you is injured, move back as a squad!”

“Yes, sir!”

Gaziel’s troops followed his instructions and faced the raptors in groups of three. However, due to having deployed in such a way as to avoid hindering the general’s troops led to many men with nothing to fight.

It was a result of his proactiveness. Xavier did not overestimate his abilities enough to assume that he could give pertinent orders in a setting dense enough to make keeping formation and visibility difficult. Therefore, he followed his training and set up a formation of one soldier on defense with a shield, another on offense with a spear, and a third on watch duty. Each group was to fight at their discretion.

The method was fairly inefficient. However, General Pujol had taken the frontline role, and a calm inspection revealed that there weren’t all that many raptors in the area. With that taken into account, the relative inefficiency of his own troops should have no bearing on the outcome, Xavier decided.

“Those on the front lines, focus on defense! Offense should come from those on the sides!” he ordered loudly as he surveyed the battlefield as best he could.

Xavier was armed with a short spear in his right hand. It could be used for slashing but could also be thrown if needed. Considering their environment and the distribution of people, he remained at the rear, watching the soldiers carefully while constantly remaining ready to engage.

He didn’t have the monstrous strength of the general and probably could not have slayed a raptor with a single spear himself. However, his attack could give a soldier who lost their footing time to recover if they were in danger.

Surprisingly, the first sign of danger came not from one of his men, but the supposed elites of General Pujol.

“Huh?!”

One of the soldiers had misjudged his distance as he thrust and had been dragged off his feet by the embedded spear.

“Guh!”

Even so, his training meant that he managed to avoid falling over and simply went down on one knee.

Xavier was sure that he wouldn’t miss and hit a friendly at this range. However, before he could throw his spear, Pujol interposed himself between the soldier and raptor.

With a gasp, Xavier barely managed to abort his throw. “N-no way...” he muttered dazedly, a cold sweat on his brow.

He had checked his surroundings before moving to hurl the spear. He had only moved to throw when he was sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that no one was close enough to intervene. Regardless, Pujol had leaped in from nowhere. Despite the thick vegetation, despite the battle, and despite his leather armor, shield, and sword.

That was beyond human, to put it mildly. Further, that wasn’t where the superhuman feats ended.

“Hssshhha!”

“Hmph.”

As the beast roared in anger and stretched its neck towards him, Pujol struck at its side with the shield in his left hand.

“Gyah?!”

Impossibly, the raptor was laid out from the single strike. Pujol did not overlook the opening. Immediately, his left foot found its way onto the creature’s face as he put his body weight onto it silently.

The raptor keened loudly. While its poor position was certainly a disadvantage, a man holding the creature down with a single foot was still an unrealistic sight.

“Hss!”

Finally, the general slashed the curved sword downwards with his right hand. The attack sliced cleanly through the raptor’s thick neck and decapitated it. Blood gushed from the stump as Pujol removed his foot from the corpse and addressed the soldier who had finally regained his footing.

“Are you wounded?” he asked.

“I am not. Apologies for the bother,” answered the soldier.

The other man—now back on his feet—had a tinge of self-recrimination in his expression. Being part of the general’s squad meant that he too was a Drake Marksmen Knight and he couldn’t hide his irritation at a mere swarm raptor getting the better of him.

The general gave the young soldier advice, still facing away. “Humans fundamentally cannot face a drake head-on. The difference in body and strength is too much. In the same way that a drake’s advantage is its size and strength, a person’s is linked to their weapons and skill. Do not assume you can stop a blow from a drake. Deflect it and remove your grip from weapons that are lodged in them. Unlike their claws, we can replace our weapons. If you have no weapon in reserve, rely on your comrades. That capability is the strength of our kind.”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

The general’s advice seemed to lack a particularly strong impact on the soldier. Seeing the man’s reaction from his position at the rear, Xavier forgot that this was a battlefield and couldn’t suppress a sardonic smile.

The advice is common; logical too. Hearing it from General Pujol robs it of any persuasion it holds, though.

After all, one of those “unbeatable through strength” drakes had literally just been hurled aside through sheer strength, trapped underfoot, and then decapitated in a single strike by the man in question. While his advice was valid for the majority of people, the person it was coming from had just gone against it himself, so the lack of persuasiveness was no surprise.

However, the reason behind the general’s rank was not his personal strength.

“The raptors will withdraw. Use only thrown spears and arrows now,” he declared as he flicked the blood off his blade.

A moment later, his words were proven true as the raptors turned and escaped into the trees. It seemed like prophecy or precognition, but it was of course no supernatural phenomenon. The prediction was simply born from closely and calmly surveying the enemy’s morale and actions to estimate when they would retreat. While most would be incapable of such quick judgment, those with the role of commander could all make similar assumptions. However, the speed with which such a determination could be made led to a significant difference on the battlefield.

“Hahh!”

“Over there!”

“Take that!”

The soldiers trusted his words implicitly and instantly hefted their spears as the raptors turned, managing to rain down their weapons on the creatures as they vanished into the foliage. If the order had been given a moment later, the agile raptors’ retreat would have offered no chance for further assault.

Apparently satisfied with his subordinates’ attack on the retreating animals, Pujol gave a nod before suddenly turning to Xavier.

“Lord Xavier, I saw your men advancing on the leftmost flank. I will take command here, so you should go and retrieve them.”

“Understood, sir. My thanks. Josep.”

“Yes, sir, leave the escort to me.”

Xavier’s answer was reflexive, and he took Josep with him, moving quickly towards the indicated area. Running carefully to avoid tripping, he couldn’t help but shudder.

I was watching from the back and missed my men’s movement. General Pujol was right in the thick of it and yet he noticed. How observant is he?

A commander taking to the front lines was usually frowned upon, but not every battle allowed one to observe from the back and issue orders. One needed to be able to grasp the composition of the battlefield even in the middle of a melee or he would not be fit to call himself a commander.

“Men, cease pursuit!” Xavier called to his subordinates. “You’re progressing alone! Going further is dangerous!”

Even as he reprimanded them, he was once more made aware that his goal was a distant one.