Chapter Six: The Border, the Battle, and the Cunning Plan

Roy hid behind bushes, curled up as he wrapped his arms around himself and trembled. Only the day before he’d had no doubt that they would arrive at the fort without incident. However, his expectations had been shattered in one single moment, as he found himself running for dear life to escape an enemy soldier’s sword.

I... I...

In his mind flashed images of his fellow soldiers, whom he had been laughing with just yesterday, bleeding profusely as they fell to the ground. Just thinking back to the sight he had witnessed made him tremble uncontrollably.

It... It was impossible for me. All the practice with the sword he had received from the prince’s knight had been for naught. While he did want to survive, he lacked the resolve to do what was necessary to achieve that. When he’d nearly been killed by an enemy soldier, he had simply ran away as fast as he could instead of drawing his own sword. Feelings of fear and uselessness surged inside him, leaving him on the verge of tears.

Suddenly he heard someone coughing.

That’s...

He peeked out from the bushes, looking toward the source of the sound. In that direction was a river that flowed down from the mountains of Gracis, to later split toward both Parche and Atrad. On the riverside he saw a small figure, sitting and coughing.

“Wow, I thought I was a goner. I seriously thought I was dead for real this time. And I feel sick from all that drifting in the river...”

For all their talk about dying, the person spoke rather nonchalantly. The voice sounded young. As Roy strained his eyes to make out the figure in the fog, he realized that he actually recognized them.

“Prince Herscherik?!” Roy completely forgot about hiding and rushed out from the bushes.

“Hwa?!” The small figure—Herscherik—jumped as Roy called out to him, letting out a strange yelp. He then turned around to find himself greeted by the unexpected sight of Roy running toward him. As Roy approached, a relieved expression surfaced on Herscherik’s face.

“I’m glad to see that you’re safe, Roy.”

“No, I...” Roy fell silent, unable to bring himself to admit that he’d run away. Herscherik, however, understood what Roy was trying to say and tapped him on his arm with one small hand.

“Right now, just be happy that you’re alive. You can worry about the rest later.”

Hearing that, Roy felt a little bit better. After seeing him smile awkwardly, Herscherik started to remove his coat.

“Now then, where could this be... Ugh.” As he tried to remove his coat, he felt a sharp pain in his left arm and grimaced.

I guess I couldn’t really hope to make it out completely unscathed. Herscherik chided himself internally.

When Herscherik had been surrounded by the assassins by the cliff, he had fallen into the raging river below. A normal child would never have survived the fall, but Herscherik had a convenient little gadget with him.

This pocket watch really is amazing, huh?

Herscherik had assumed that his pocket watch worked by simply absorbing Floating Magic and using that to invoke spells. However, the magic nerd Shiro discovered that it actually had more features than that. One of those features was the ability to remember multiple magic formulas—ordinary magical items could only hold one formula at a time. Another feature it had was the ability to not only convert Magic, but also store it.

Initiating a magical formula required a certain amount of Magic. Since the pocket watch could store Magic inside of it, you could simply use its stored energy to invoke the associated spell. As someone who had no Magic Within, it was as if this magical item had been made specifically for Herscherik himself. What he had thought a simple flip phone had turned out to be a high-spec smartphone.

Shiro had asked him, astounded, “How did you not notice?” But as Herscherik had no Magic Within to speak of and understood almost nothing about the whole subject, he simply told Shiro that expecting someone like him to notice anything magical was asking too much.

In the end it had been the barrier magic that Shiro prepared for him that had saved him from being swallowed by the current. However, it had taken a moment for the magic to activate, and in the meantime he had managed to hit his arm.

I guess I should count myself lucky that it wasn’t my dominant arm... I feel like I’ve used up enough luck for a lifetime. And it wasn’t just the location of his injury that was lucky—he had washed ashore on land, at an advantageous location, and had found Roy there. Had he just continued to drift down the river, the pocket watch’s Magic would have run out, and Herscherik would likely have drowned; had he ended up on the opposite shore, he would have had great difficulty making it back to this side of the river. And, if he’d encountered not Roy but Barbosse’s troops, that would have been the end of everything. Herscherik thanked his lucky stars that his gamble had paid off.

“Your Highness? Are you hurt?” a worried Roy asked the quiet Herscherik.

“Yeah, it seems I managed to hit my arm. I hate to ask this, but would you mind helping me get my coat off?”

Herscherik fought the pain as he removed his coat with Roy’s help, after which he had Roy tear off the lining of the back of it. Concealed in the lining was a cloth map of the surrounding area. It was, of course, a map that Herscherik had asked Rook to make before departing. It was waterproof to ensure that he could still read the map even if he ended up submerged in water.

“I had this prepared in advance.”

With Roy looking puzzled beside him, Herscherik ran the index finger of his dominant hand across the map.

“This must be where we were ambushed. Assuming this is where I fell into the river...” He mumbled to himself as he followed the river with his finger and got an idea of where he must have washed ashore. “Based on the terrain... Probably somewhere about here.”

“I believe so.” Roy confirmed Herscherik’s guess, starting to feel a little anxious again. He had fled for dear life, but considering the direction he had been running in, Herscherik seemed to be pointing at the right place.

The map was marked with several symbols in addition to the location of nearby villages, and Roy curiously wondered what they could mean.

“Okay, this would be the closest village. Roy, why don’t you come with me for now?”

“Y-Yes!” Roy responded, as Herscherik stood up before he had a chance to ask what the symbols meant.

Herscherik and Roy walked and walked, and by the time the fog started to clear up a small village came into view. However, it was nothing more than the traces of a village, if that.

“This is...” Roy was at a loss for words at the state of the settlement. There was not a single person in sight, and the buildings and fields all lay in ruins. The small village had been destroyed.

“It must have been attacked by the imperial army... Ow!” Herscherik had crouched down to pick up a stuffed toy on the ground, wincing as pain shot through in his left arm. Even so, he endured it as he reached out with his right hand for the toy rabbit, its stuffing spilling out onto the ground where it had been trampled underfoot.

“Your Highness, your injury really is worse than...”

“I’m fine.” Herscherik shook his head at Roy’s expression of concern. His pain was nothing compared to what the people of this village must have suffered, Herscherik thought with a frown.

The imperial army must have passed through this village on their way to the location of the ambush. After plundering the whole place, they must have wrecked the buildings too.

“...y,” Herscherik mumbled as he hugged the toy rabbit.

“Your Highness?”

Roy kneeled down and looked at the prince, who was standing still and leaning forward. Herscherik paid him no notice, however, and only held the toy even tighter. His eyes were filled with rage and sorrow. Roy was unsure what to say to him at first, but after some thinking he finally made up his mind.

“Your Highness, I have something to tell you.” Roy described what General Seghin had blurted out when the expedition had first been ambushed, and the fact that the general had abandoned his army to save his own life.

Herscherik waited for Roy to finish, nodding in response.

“I see... So that’s how it is...” Herscherik mumbled and closed his mouth, silently going over the events in his head. However, Roy interpreted Herscherik’s actions in his own way. He feared that the prince might not believe a simple commoner who spoke ill of a noble, or that he might even punish him. The thought made him turn pale.

Giving the terrified boy soldier no attention, Herscherik collected his thoughts before turning to Roy.

“What are you planning on doing next?”

“Huh?” Roy replied, befuddled, as Herscherik continued.

“I’m going to the border fort.”

Roy turned pale again, this time for a different reason. The army that had been headed for the border fort had been thrown into disarray. Roy could easily imagine what that meant if the border fort had to face the imperial forces. It would only be a matter of time before the border fort, only a few thousand strong, fell before the imperial army of over a hundred thousand men. Going there could very well be considered suicide. General Seghin’s words still bothered Roy, as well.

“This isn’t what His Excellency promised... He said that we would simply hand over the prince to the empire!”

Roy didn’t know exactly what the general had meant, but he found it difficult to believe that Herscherik would make it out unscathed if he went to the border fort.

“That’s too dangerous, Your Highness! Returning to the capital would be much—”

“Yes, that probably would be safer,” Herscherik agreed, but he then shook his head from side to side. “But I have to go.”

A determined light gleamed in Herscherik’s eyes.

“Roy, if you don’t want to see battle again, we should split up here.”

“But...” Roy grew hesitant at the sight of Herscherik looking directly at him. The prince smiled in response.

“Don’t worry. Even if you leave the army because of this, I’ll put in a good word for you so you won’t be punished, as thanks for keeping me company all this way. If you can, though, I’d be happy if you could tell my father and brothers what you’ve seen and heard here.” Herscherik tried to keep his tone as cheerful as possible in an attempt to calm Roy.

Leaving the army was normally strictly forbidden. Depending on the circumstances, it was even punishable by death. However, with just a word from Herscherik, his brothers would make sure everything ended well for Roy.

However, Roy was unable to accept Herscherik’s proposal. As the young prince prepared to set off for the battlefield, Roy felt pathetic, as he seemed unable to do anything but tremble in fear. Even if he made it back home alive, he wouldn’t be able to face his family. Seeing Herscherik, he felt that he had to do whatever he could to help him, no matter how insignificant.

“Your Highness, please let me accompany you.”

In response, Herscherik simply said, “Thank you, Roy,” and smiled.

Roy quickly took action. Figuring that they would need food and water for the trip, he searched the ravaged houses for provisions and canteens. He quietly promised that he would come back one day to pay for everything he took as he fetched water from the well and filled the canteens. On his way back he came across a loose horse, which he managed to capture by approaching it very slowly so that it wouldn’t run away. The beast seemed to be a carthorse, and it was used to people. Its owner must have released it just before the village was attacked—only for it to come straight back. Roy scrounged up some horse tack in a nearby house; he then equipped the horse with a bit, reins, and a saddle, and loaded it with the food and water. It took him a while, but he managed thanks to his experience as a boy soldier.

Having finished all the preparations, Roy felt his spirits rise a bit at the realization that he could be useful after all. He led the horse back to where Herscherik was waiting.

When he returned, he found the prince by a fence next to the ravaged field, where he was squirming curiously.

“Your Highness, what are you doing?”

“Well, nothing much...” Herscherik said and turned around. Behind him, a handkerchief was tied to the fence. “Oh, you found a horse? That’s lucky. Do you know how to ride one?”

“No, I don’t, but I can at least lead it. I brought it so you could ride it... Your Highness, what is that handkerchief?” Roy wondered with a puzzled look. The handkerchief was made from expensive silk, but it wasn’t the fabric Roy was curious about. Rather, he wondered why such a fancy handkerchief was currently tied in a bow to a fence that looked as if it might collapse any moment.

Herscherik refrained from answering Roy’s question, giving him only a vague smile as he approached the horse.

“Well then, we’ll be heading here first. I’m counting on you.” Herscherik said, indicating a location on the map. Roy nodded with an unsatisfied look on his face.

Roy lifted Herscherik onto the horse, as he was unable to mount it himself due to his short stature and his injury.

After the two of them had left, a shadow appeared in the small village. The shadow found the handkerchief, noted how it had been tied, and let out a heavy sigh before leaving the village again.

The border fort was supposed to have been lively with the voices of the expedition soldiers by now, but instead it was filled with the fear of a hundred thousand imperial soldiers ready to attack the fort at daybreak. In a tense council room, the general in charge of protecting the border was sitting together with his subordinates, exchanging quiet glances. Despite this ostensibly being a war council, no one so much as opened their mouth, and a heavy silence permeated the room. It was past three in the morning, and the council had been going for almost fifteen hours, with only short breaks.

“What can we do...?” mumbled the person in charge of the fort, General Barthold.

It had been many years since he had been put in charge of this fort, which had always been a point of conflict with the empire. He’d been entrusted with this position on account of his sturdy nature. However, even Barthold, who excelled at defensive battles, found their current situation grim indeed. Currently stationed at the fort were less than five thousand soldiers—the existing force of three thousand, along with the two thousand that arrived with Teodor. The Atrad army, meanwhile, was composed of over a hundred thousand soldiers. He had immediately contacted the capital and requested reinforcements, but even in the best-case scenario they would take at least three weeks to arrive.

If they settled in for a long siege, there was at least a slight chance that they could fend the empire off, though at the expense of many soldiers’ lives. However, they didn’t have enough provisions for that. And faced with a battle they saw no hope of winning, the soldiers’ morale was at an all-time low.

“Is there truly nothing we can do?” Barthold said what was on everyone’s mind.

Everyone present was well aware that if a hundred thousand soldiers were to lay siege on the fort, it would be overwhelmed like a small fishing boat swallowed by a gigantic wave. If that happened, what awaited the soldiers inside the fort—including the general himself—was being taken prisoner at best, and death at worst.

Breaking the mood of the room, a door was flung open loudly, and a soldier entered.

“E-Excuse me!”

“We are in the middle of a war council! What is it?!” one of the higher-ups who was sitting next to the door yelled. However, the soldier continued.

“I’m terribly sorry, but I have an urgent report.”

“What is it? Don’t tell me the empire has launched its attack?!” The room grew suddenly energetic, but the soldier quickly shook his head.

“No, it’s... The prince... Someone claiming to be Prince Herscherik has appeared!”

Within thirty minutes of the soldier’s report, the seat that had once belonged to the chief of the fort was now occupied by a young boy with blonde hair and green eyes—Herscherik himself. He had made it to the fort under the cover of darkness without being found by the imperial army. Some had suggested that he may have been an imperial spy, but quickly changed their minds at the sight of Herscherik’s face.

The royal family of Gracis was a family of unparalleled beauty. Even though he was overshadowed by his more attractive relatives and was currently clad in dirty clothes, Herscherik was still without question a member of that same beautiful royal family. Not to mention that since the incident at the church, Herscherik’s face had become well known to many, both high and low. Almost everyone in the room was aware of this young boy, with his light-blonde hair and emerald eyes.

“Prince Herscherik, I am relieved to see you are safe.”

Herscherik silently nodded at Barthold’s words, with Roy behind him. The little prince looked unwell, with his apparently injured left arm wrapped in bandages. As the adults shot him sympathetic glances, the prince himself looked around the tense room.

“Don’t worry about me. General Barthold, update me on the situation.” With mannerisms and a general air about him that seemed far removed from a seven-year-old child, Herscherik left the others in the room—including the general—stunned. But Herscherik simply made a cute face and tilted his head as he repeated himself. “General Barthold?”

“Y-Yes, Your Highness!”

As Barthold finished his report, Herscherik nodded and put his chin in his hand as he thought.

“I see,” Herscherik finally said, leaving the others without a clue as to what he was thinking. Then, a particular man opened his mouth, looking straight at the prince.

“Your Highness, I have something I wish to say.”

“You have something you want to say to me? An apology, perhaps?” Herscherik scoffed. “General Seghin, I have neither the time nor the state of mind to listen to your apology right now.”

Teodor found himself shot down immediately by a sarcastic Herscherik. However, such a reaction was only to be expected. He really should not even be here. After all, despite having been in charge of twenty thousand soldiers, he had abandoned them and fled to the border fort to save his own life.

Having been ridiculed by a child, albeit a royal one, Teodor clenched his teeth, but still continued speaking.

“As it stands, all that will happen is that our soldiers will be exhausted and lose their lives unnecessarily. However, with Your Highness here, we have an opportunity for negotiation.”

“And?” Herscherik recrossed his legs as he told the general to continue. It was as if he was trying to show how unfazed he was. Teodor felt irritation bubbling up within him, but he suppressed it.

“If we can negotiate a ceasefire, we can avoid unnecessary bloodshed.”

“And?” Herscherik sounded as if he was bored out of his mind, further prompting Teodor to continue.

Roy watched the scene play out from behind Herscherik and felt a chill run down his spine, as if someone had dropped ice down his back. He had accompanied Herscherik on the trip here, if only for a few days, and he had never heard a voice this cold come from his mouth. He started wondering if the prince in front of him really was the same prince that he’d come to know.

“Please, Your Highness, do the right thing!” Teodor, unaware of the thoughts running through Roy’s head, kneeled before Herscherik and pleaded with his head bowed. But Barthold cut him off, standing forcefully up from his chair.

“Are you out of your mind, General Seghin?! You cannot seriously be asking His Highness to sacrifice himself to the empire!”

“But General Barthold... General Seghin does have a point!” another man spoke, agreeing with Teodor.

“At this rate our soldiers will just die for nothing! We have no choice but to rely on the prince now!” yet another man quickly chimed in.

“And you call yourself an officer of Gracis?! You should be ashamed!”

Leaving Herscherik out of the discussion, the generals and higher-ups started arguing, with two opposing sides—one arguing for the prince to be handed over to the empire so that they might survive, the other steadfastly objecting. As derisive utterances flew back and forth, Herscherik sighed repeatedly. He then waved Roy over to him and whispered something into the boy’s ear. Startled at what he had just been told, Roy stared back at Herscherik, but the prince simply nodded. Roy took a deep breath and then slammed his fist on the table in front of him as hard as he could.

The room fell silent at the sudden loud noise as all gazes turned to Roy. Rubbing his sore hand, Roy shrugged awkwardly—but before anyone could question him, Herscherik spoke up.

“Sorry for interrupting the party...” Herscherik let out a deep sigh before turning to Teodor. “Is that what Barbosse ordered you to do?”

“Wha—” Teodor was struck speechless. And it wasn’t just him—all those who had agreed with him reacted exactly the same way, a fact that did not go unnoticed by Herscherik or those who had been on the opposing side.

Some in the room were aware of Gracis’s current predicament. Barthold in particular had always been too honest and steadfast to get along with Barbosse. That is why he had been removed from the capital and relegated to the border fort. Barbosse and those in his sphere of influence would distance anyone who might get in their way from politics and the capital.

Herscherik continued speaking with a mature expression, as if he had seen through everything.

“I knew it couldn’t have been just General Seghin. You there, and you... you jumped at the mention of Barbosse, didn’t you?” Herscherik grinned as he pointed with one tiny hand. “Also, you are all gravely mistaken. You think the imperial army would retreat if you handed me over? Why in the world would they throw away such a favorable opportunity just for the sake of one prince? Use your heads.”

“That’s...!” Teodor attempted to argue, but Herscherik simply shook his head as if he’d had enough.

“Come on—you’ve already realized it, haven’t you? Just accept the facts—Barbosse used you as disposable pawns.”

“That’s not true! If I just hand you over to the empire, I’ll come out of this safe and sound! That’s what His Excellency—” Teodor suddenly clapped his hand over his own mouth... But it was too late. Everyone in the room had already heard.

“Digging your own grave, huh? You really are hopeless,” Herscherik said, astonished. Of course, Herscherik had deliberately agitated Teodor past his limit, but he couldn’t help but feel a little bit of pity for the general, walking straight into his own demise this easily.

As if to disappoint Herscherik even further, Teodor began to dig himself even deeper into his grave.

“I will defect to the empire,” he said in what could only be described as an attempt to escape reality, leaving everyone in the room dumbfounded. Having lost any semblance of sanity, he continued with his voice rising to a shriek. “I refuse to die like this! I’ll take the prince and surrender to the empire! The rest of you want to live too, don’t you?!”

“Do you have any idea what you’re saying?” As Teodor threw a childish tantrum, the person who spoke up to criticize him was none other than Roy. “And you call yourself a general of Gracis?!”

Meanwhile, His Highness came all this way in spite of the danger! Roy felt as though his own blood would start boiling in rage. He was so furious that he completely forgot that he was speaking to a general—and a noble at that—as he chastised him.

“Silence!” Red-faced, Teodor drew his sword. Roy and Barthold stood up, shielding Herscherik from Teodor.

But despite the tense situation, Herscherik simply let out a small sigh before he started speaking.

“Honestly, are you seriously trying to fight your own allies? Kuro.”

“Yes, my liege.”

Silently, a man clad in all black appeared behind Teodor. Had there been someone attentive in the room, who additionally excelled at observing people, they might have noticed that the man was the very survivor who had come to report the defeat of the Gracis army.

“Where did you come from?!” Teodor instinctively raised his sword, but with one fluid motion the man grabbed Teodor’s sword arm with one hand and punched him in his unprotected gut with the other.

“Oof!” Teodor groaned, dropping his sword and falling to his knees with his stomach clutched in both hands.

While everyone in the room was dumbfounded, unable to process what was happening, the man in black dashed toward each of the men who had agreed with the plan to hand over the prince and floored them with a single blow.

Everyone in the room was frozen at the sight; Herscherik was the only one to make any move. He simply stood up from his chair and approached the man.

“Kuro, what’s the situation?”

“I’ve seized all the evidence we need... Are you hurt?” It was difficult to see Kuro’s face under the hood, but Herscherik got a sense that he was furrowing his brow.

Herscherik tapped the arm wrapped in bandages in response.

“It’s nothing big, don’t worry. Now we just need to figure out what to do about the imperial army. Where’s Oran and the rest?”

“They’re hiding out in a forest close to where the imperial army is waiting.”

“Got it. Let’s go, then. You too—General Barthold, Roy, and the rest of you,” Herscherik said as he started walking, Kuro in tow. He opened the door, ordered a nearby soldier to arrest Teodor, and glanced down at the crouching general.

“General Seghin, let me say this much.” Herscherik’s expression was cold enough to make anyone shiver. “I’m a royal. I have no intention of running away from the duty that comes with that. If I could save a lot of people in exchange for my life, I would gladly sacrifice myself. However...”

Herscherik’s glance pierced Teodor who was looking up.

“I will not give up my life for the sake of your personal greed. When we return to the capital, I will reveal everything, and you will be judged before the law. You had better prepare yourself... I will never forgive you,” Herscherik said, but added internally, That’s right. I won’t forgive you. Not you, not Barbosse—and not myself for being so powerless that it came to this.

The eastern sky had begun to turn white as night gave way to day. Standing on an elevated part of the fortress, Herscherik looked up at the sky and then back down at the ground. To the west, a hundred thousand soldiers were stationed. Red lights that must have belonged to campfires could be seen here and there, and the enemy seemed to already have begun preparations for battle.

Herscherik turned his gaze from the large army below to Kuro, who stood beside him. Noticing his gaze, Kuro nodded as he began to recite an incantation, causing a sphere of light to appear in his hands. He threw the sphere of light up into the air, which continued soaring straight up toward the sky before bursting.

“Your Highness, what is...?” a confused Barthold asked, while Roy looked up at the bursting sphere with a puzzled expression.

Herscherik simply smiled meaningfully in response.

Everyone tried to stay as quiet as possible as they hid in the dark forest. When the sky finally started turning brighter, the adjutant approached Heath to give him a report.

“General Blaydes, we’ve received a signal from the border fortress. The army is ready to join battle at any time.”

“Finally our turn, huh?” Heath shrugged from atop his horse.

After they had been ambushed by the imperial army three days prior, Heath had taken his own division—along with the survivors of the other division—and temporarily retreated from the location of the ambush. They had then changed their course and hidden in this forest since the night before.

So everything went exactly as the prince predicted. This goes beyond praiseworthy and straight into frightening territory.

It had all started on the night of their departure day. Heath had been smoking in his tent when Herscherik’s butler of service had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Heath had been surprised, but managed to maintain his composure. The battle-hardened Heath had been able to tell instinctively that the prince’s men were no ordinary people when they appeared in that room where Heath had first laid his eyes on the prince.

The Blazing General’s son, Octavian, was an old acquaintance of his, and he had heard the people of the department of Magic refer to the troublemaker Weiss as a genius. However, he had no information on the butler; at most, as a former mercenary, Heath had been able to sense the particular aura of someone who had spent some time in the underground.

As Heath followed the butler’s lead into the forest, he found himself face to face with Herscherik, with his knight and Spellcaster standing on each side of him.

“I’m terribly sorry for calling you here this late, General Blaydes. I have something I would like to discuss with you,” Herscherik opened.

“You can call me Heath, prince. Also, as I’m a former mercenary, I’m not very used to speaking politely, so I hope you’ll forgive me if I accidentally say anything rude.”

“Very well, Heath it is. I don’t really like being spoken to humbly anyway, so please feel free to speak as you always do.”

Herscherik took a deep breath before getting to the main issue.

“During this expedition, there is a chance that we will suffer an ambush from the empire within our borders.”

“Are you serious? Within our borders?!” Heath forgot any semblance of politeness as he echoed Herscherik. Without seeming offended in the slightest, Herscherik nodded in response.

“That is the worst-case scenario.”

Herscherik explained three potential scenarios: the first was the prospect of an ambush within the borders of Gracis; the second was an error in their information on the imperial army that would lead them to encountering a much larger force than they were expecting; the third, that there was someone in the expedition and the border fortress who was colluding with the enemy.

“Prince... do you mind if I have a smoke?” After vigorously scratching his head as he finished listening to what Herscherik had to say, Heath lit a cigarette with magic upon receiving permission from the prince. As he exhaled the smoke, the smell of tobacco filled the air. However, that only lasted for a moment, as the Spellcaster next to the prince started to grimace and quickly recited an incantation which conjured a wind that carried the smell of tobacco away.

“To be perfectly honest with you, I’m not sure I actually believe you.”

“Heath...”

“I’m neither trusting or loyal enough to simply believe anything a prince says without any proof whatsoever.” Had his nagging adjutant been with him, he would without a doubt have jabbed him for this remark. Oran sighed as Heath brought the cigarette to his lips again.

Heath was the type to firmly and fearlessly state whatever was on his mind regardless of who he was speaking to, even if it was a superior or a noble. This was why Roland had taken a liking to him, and also why he was despised by the people in National Defense.

Heath exhaled some smoke as he continued speaking.

“Well, it’s not like I don’t have some idea where that proof might come from, though.”

Heath might have been a slacker, but he was no fool, and he had a pretty good idea of what exactly the prince was fearing—and what he was leaving out. Even so, it just wasn’t in his nature to simply nod and readily go along with something like this.

“We’re soldiers. Our job is risking our lives to take the enemy’s. So if the big shots tell us to fight, we’ll fight—and if they tell us to die, we’ll die. But you know, if they start treating hundreds or thousands of people like pawns, then even someone as lazy as me is going to start getting angry. We’re not toys for royals and nobles to play with. Do you understand that, and are you prepared for the consequences of suggesting something like this?” Heath spoke as if reproaching Herscherik. If he’d been accused of disrespecting the royal family, he would have nothing to say for himself.

Herscherik simply took to heart what Heath had to say, as he and his men of service remained silent. Heath once again placed his cigarette in his mouth and inhaled deeply before exhaling in a resigned manner.

“So, Prince Herscherik, what exactly do I need to do, and in preparation for what?”

“You actually believe me? Even though I don’t have any proof?” Herscherik asked, wide-eyed. The prince, who just a moment ago had seemed so mature, suddenly looked more like a boy his actual age. Heath couldn’t help but smile, defeated, at the sudden change in demeanor.

“Never defying the big shots... that’s the sad lot of a laborer. Besides, you’re clearly prepared. What more can one of your subjects do, other than respond in kind?”

Heath had already taken a liking to this boy. The general didn’t have a patriotic bone in his body, but he thought that perhaps working for Herscherik wouldn’t be so bad.

“And the soldiers seem to like you too. I don’t want my subordinates to look at me coldly because I was mean to you or something.”

Herscherik had a good reputation within the army. Part of it was a result of the Church incident, but this expedition had improved it significantly. First of all, when he’d requested to eat the same food as the regular soldiers, the food had improved for everyone. The food served to soldiers during an expedition was usually plain; nobles, however, were given expensive luxurious meals. But if a member of the royal family, the highest ranking person on the expedition, requested the same food as the soldiers, they would have to be more careful with what they served.

In order to serve higher quality food, they had been forced to increase the food budget. To do so, their only option was to take the extra funds from the ever-increasing food budget for the nobility. While the nobles accompanying the expedition could have simply paid out of their own pocket instead, it wouldn’t have looked good for them to have more luxurious meals than the prince.

Additionally, the prince was equally friendly with everyone and did not look down on common soldiers like other nobles did. Despite having been swamped with work while preparing for the expedition, he had visited not only National Defense but also the barracks to ask the soldiers if there was anything they needed. To Herscherik, it was simply common sense to ask the people doing the actual work for their opinions, but it had only improved his reputation among the soldiers.

As a result, you would now hear the occasional shout of “We’ll protect the prince at all costs!” from the soldiers on the expedition.

“Thank you, Heath,” Herscherik said with a big smile. A normal prince would never lower himself to thank a mere commoner, and former mercenary at that. Heath responded to the unusual little prince with a confused smile.

And so the ambush came to pass, but as Heath had already hinted to his soldiers to prepare for such an event, the second division managed to avoid unnecessary disarray. Heath himself had already figured that the location in question would have been the best place for an ambush.

The prince’s concern didn’t just extend to the soldiers. He had predicted in advance what route the ambush unit was most likely to take and evacuated any nearby villages with the help of the mercenary guild. Heath had been surprised that the mercenary guild had decided to help him at all—as a former member himself, he knew that the guild usually tried to keep its distance from the state. They were a free group of people; they were not paid by the government, but in return they weren’t tied to it. The only things they trusted were honor and contracts. Heath could not understand why the mercenary guild would even agree to help the prince.

“Well... We have some history,” Herscherik had responded vaguely when asked. Based on his response, Heath had surmised that the prince must have helped the mercenary guild out in some way in the past, and now the guild members—including the guildmaster—were indebted to him.

I can’t believe a noble-hater like him would help a prince. Heath thought back to a man he had known from his mercenary days—a man who now served as the master of the mercenary guild. Heath found it fascinating that someone like that would end up assisting a member of the royal family, who were the loftiest nobility of all.

But man, we’ve got a lot of enemies here, Heath thought as he tried to get a read on the current situation.

The imperial army was a little less than a hundred thousand strong. That was ten times what their information had led them to believe. Heath, on the other hand, had a mere sixteen thousand soldiers at his command. This surprise attack had left them at an unrelenting disadvantage.

Now, what do we do...? The only thing we can do is... As Heath arrived at a conclusion and was about to give his orders, someone approached him.

“Mr. Blaydes.”

“What’s up, third-born?” Heath turned around to find the son of his former superior, clad in crimson armor.

Having visited the Aldis family for work on a number of occasions, Heath was also acquainted with the former general’s family. The sons in particular would always pester him for a sparring match. Out of them, he’d seen the most potential in the third son.

“Would you please stop calling me that?”

Heath scratched his head at the sight of the third son—Oran—who looked strangely calm for someone preparing for his first ever battle.

“Sorry about that. So, Octavian, what do you need?”

Oran wiped the irritated look off his face.

“Would you be willing to put me in charge of an elite troop of one thousand cavalrymen?”

“Are you planning on charging straight for their supreme commander...?” Heath changed his expression upon hearing Oran’s proposal. He now had the face of a general in charge of ten thousand soldiers.

“Yes.”

“I have no soldiers I’m willing to sacrifice like that.”

“I’m aware.”

Heath deflected Oran’s suggestion, but Oran refused to yield.

“But the longer we hesitate, the more disadvantaged we become, even if this is an ambush. I want to end the battle as quickly as possible.”

“Even if the supreme commander is camping out in the open, he’s still a ways away. Even with an elite troop it would be difficult, if not impossible, to reach him. The safe play would be to ambush them, wait until we’ve reduced their numbers to some extent, then retreat back into the border fort and either hold out until reinforcements arrive or wait for the enemy to give up.”

They had the supplies they needed. They would be able to endure the three weeks it would take for reinforcements to arrive, Heath thought. The imperial army, on the other hand, had limited provisions. If Heath’s soldiers took advantage of their ambush to burn and destroy their provisions, it would be difficult for the imperials to maintain an army of a hundred thousand soldiers, and they would have no choice but to retreat. Even if he didn’t win, he wouldn’t lose—that was the core of the Undefeated General’s strategy.

However, Oran shook his head.

“That would take too long. We don’t have that time.”

“Why not?”

Oran remained silent as he looked straight into Heath’s eyes.

“I swear to you—I will defeat the enemy general.”

“All right, fine. I’ll give you the royal guards as well as some of my best soldiers. Whatever you do, don’t die.” Heath yielded to Oran’s ardent gaze, to which Oran showed a fearless smile.

“Of course. I’d also like some fast horses. Are you ready, Weiss?”

The person Oran had addressed nodded. However, this peerless beauty seemed to be in a rather foul mood. Looking at his mud-covered clothes and long white hair, it was easy to see why.

Heath observed the man as he thought back to when they had first been ambushed. He had been dealing out orders, trying to get the soldiers into formation, when he was blinded by a bright light accompanied by roaring thunder. Once the light had receded, he found himself looking at a pale blue barrier, surrounded by dumbfounded soldiers from his own army and the charred corpses of enemy soldiers. Heath initially had no idea what had just happened, but he later met up with Oran who explained that the Spellcaster of service had cast a large-scale spell which had annihilated the entire ambush unit down to the last man. Barriers had also been raised to ensure that the royal army suffered no losses whatsoever from the spell. As a result, they had managed to minimize their losses while also giving the impression that the royal army may have been annihilated in the blast, allowing them the chance to plan their counter-ambush.

That butler, the Aldis third-born, and now this Spellcaster... Just who is that prince? The three of them were all remarkable in their own way, with exceedingly unique personalities to boot. Heath only grew more fascinated with the prince who had managed to tame them all. Not bad... I’d love to have a drink with him sometime—wait, he’s still just a kid.

Heath chuckled to himself as he turned his attention back to the Spellcaster.

“All I need to do is open up a path to the enemy leader, right?” The unparalleled beauty who had just flaunted his terrifying Djinn-class magic said this as nonchalantly as if he was discussing the weather.

War cries roared across the field, and the royal cavalry raced across the rolling hills toward the enemy headquarters. The people of the border fort, with the exception of Herscherik and Kuro, gazed at the unfolding scene with amazement.

“Is that the expedition?”

“Yup, it sure is. Now that’s our Undefeated General—they’re in a perfect position,” Herscherik replied to the visibly confused Barthold.

“But I heard the army was routed!”

“That was a lie.”

“What?” Everyone in the room was left dumbfounded at Herscherik’s casual response.

“I knew there was someone who was conspiring with the enemy, you see. I had to make sure they didn’t get word of this. If you want to fool your enemies, you first need to fool your allies.”

“And they believed it straight away. Made my job a lot easier,” Kuro remarked. Barthold only now realized that he was the soldier from earlier.

“But the difference in strength...”

There was indeed an overwhelming difference in numbers. The situation was bad enough that even a layman could tell how disadvantaged they were.

“Yes, but you see, there’s a simple way to end the battle quickly, isn’t there, General Barthold?”

Barthold paused to think for a few seconds, after which he opened his eyes wide.

“Your Highness, you don’t mean to...?”

Herscherik grinned in response.

“Not even the strongest warrior can move without a head. An army is no different.”

Herscherik was reminded of a particular action game he’d played in a previous life where defeating the general meant victory. Of course, this was no game, so defeating the general would not prove quite as easy.

“But surely with an army of that size, defeating the enemy’s supreme commander would be next to impossible.”

“That’s true. If this was a normal battle, it would be pretty difficult,” Herscherik nodded. “But this isn’t a normal battle.”

The imperial army had no doubt in their minds that they would win. Their victory was assured by the overwhelming difference in numbers and their deal with Barbosse. This battlefield was nothing more than the site of a trade between the minister and the empire. The enemy fully believed that they had won the battle before it had even started. This invited carelessness. In addition, Gracis possessed an asset that the enemy was unaware of.

A careless enemy, a force that was thought to have been annihilated, a reverse ambush, an undefeated general, and then Herscherik’s own men of service. Herscherik had prepared for the worst as he drafted his strategy. It was a cunning plan that even made use of the initial ambush itself. Now it was time for that plan to prove itself.

All that’s left is... Herscherik had done all he could. Now all he could do was believe in his men of service.

“Everything will be fine. My knight and Spellcaster are out there,” Herscherik said with his usual smile.

The ambush succeeded initially. However, the enemy army was large, and the longer they took the more time the enemy would have to tighten their formation and strengthen the defenses around their commander. But that was exactly what Oran was waiting for. Behind the densest throng of soldiers lay the enemy’s supreme commander.

The moment they had ascertained his location, a wind cut through the enemy army in a straight line. It blew past a large number of enemy soldiers, flinging them into the air and scattering them like leaves, leaving a clear path to the headquarters where the supreme commander sat.

It wasn’t until after the battle that they learned that it had been a spell cast by a single Spellcaster, the soldiers would later relate.

Spellcasters were a common sight on battlefields. They served various roles, from casting offensive magic to assisting with communication. A powerful Spellcaster might have been able to defeat a single small troop with one spell. However, there was no Spellcaster powerful enough to create a path all the way to the enemy’s headquarters with a single blow—except for Weiss.

A man charged down the path created by this outlandish Spellcaster. He moved, wielding a sword said to grow sharper the more people it cut down, and mowed down one enemy soldier after the next as they leaped into his path without ever slowing his horse. His sunset-colored hair and crimson armor were stained an even deeper red.

A thousand cavalrymen followed behind him, but Oran spared them no thought as he pressed on through the enemy army. On the way he was interrupted by a strong-looking soldier who introduced himself by name—but he too was cut down by Oran’s sword. The general he had killed had been one of the empire’s foremost warriors, but Oran paid him no mind as he continued sprinting with his horse, leaving a trail of corpses behind him.

Oran soon arrived at the enemy headquarters, and while the elite troops kept the imperials at bay, he pointed his blood-drenched sword right at the supreme commander, who was frozen with fear.

“Choose. Captivity or death,” Oran asked curtly.

To Dick Eol Lynx, the answer was obvious.

The royal army shouted with joy. At the same time a ball of light signifying their victory was launched up, dispersing in the air like fireworks. The enemy army similarly launched a light into the air, perhaps to signal to the rest of its forces to cease fighting. Less than an hour had passed since the battle was initiated.

“Well... I did say to aim for a short battle. I sure did,” Herscherik mumbled to himself.

Even with a surprise attack, they had still been at an overwhelming disadvantage. As a result, they needed to win before the enemy had a chance to move into formation. When Herscherik asked Oran and Shiro whether they’d be able to accomplish this, they had both responded affirmatively.

But Herscherik did never imagine that it would be over this quickly. He had left the actual fighting up to Oran, so he hadn’t known in advance what exactly they would be doing on the battlefield, but it had been clear what they were doing even watching from afar.

Leaving one unit behind, the royal army had ambushed the imperial army. Heath must have been the one in charge of that. It was all executed flawlessly, as Heath had taken advantage of the confusion to inflict great losses on the enemy army. However, the enemy did not simply stand still and take the attack. The soldiers fell into formation and fortified their defenses around their headquarters—but ultimately that only served to mark the spot.

That’s when Shiro fired off a spell that ignored any physical defenses—and any magical barriers to boot—throwing the soldiers into the air and carving a path. The man who then led the reserve unit down that path, arriving at the enemy headquarters in the blink of an eye, could only have been Oran, Herscherik concluded.

Sheesh, just how strong are they? Talk about OP.

Herscherik chuckled dispassionately after witnessing the ridiculous feat that just played out before him. He did already have great faith in his men, and his plan had succeeded. But despite that, what he had witnessed seemed so unreal that he could do nothing but laugh.

“It was a short battle, just like you asked for, right?” his butler responded matter-of-factly. Herscherik decided not to mention his butler’s calm response to such an outlandish situation proved that he was quite eccentric himself. Of course, it did not occur to the prince that, as the master of the three, he might be the most eccentric of all.

Ceasing his chuckling, Herscherik took a deep breath, looked out at the battlefield which was slowly settling down, and breathed a sigh or relief.

“We really did win the battle,” the prince said. Roy, who was standing beside him, thought that he would never forget what he had seen this day. The rising sun illuminated Herscherik’s well-defined profile like a divine halo. Roy squinted as he gazed at Herscherik, who shone like a symbol of the age to come.