Chapter Eight: The Betrayal, the Genius, and the Revenge

The harvest festival of Gracis had concluded without incident, and all of the capital’s foreign visitors were now busy with the process of returning home. Herscherik’s two guests had also seized this opportunity to safely depart.

“Your Highness, thank you so much for everything you’ve done for us,” said Kurenai, who had just finished packing. She gave Herscherik a deep bow.

“Don’t mention it. If anything, you’ve done more to help me instead,” Herscherik replied.

Thanks to Kurenai, Herscherik had made great progress on reviewing past documents, and the upcoming project proposals for each department were set to proceed without a hitch. Being so ahead of schedule, Herscherik was actually able to relax for once; he used his spare time to thoroughly scrutinize the project proposals, allowing him to make preparations in case anything went wrong. None of this would have been possible without Kurenai.

The office workers at the castle were already stretched thin due to the loss of personnel and the restructuring that had taken place since the recent battle. Working under such conditions had to be taxing, both physically and mentally. Herscherik had wanted to do anything he could to reduce the staff’s workload, and he was happy to have been able to help them, if only a little.

Kurenai gave the cheerful prince her usual smile.

“Well, I’ll be going to see Kurenai off then,” Oran said, interrupting the gentle mood. He was dressed in simple, casual clothes.

“Thanks, Oran. I’m counting on you,” Herscherik replied.

Kurenai and Ao would be departing separately before meeting up with a merchant that Herscherik had arranged to wait for them outside the capital. They had decided to split up because traveling in smaller groups would make it easier to handle any problems that may arise. Ao would leave slightly later with Kuro, taking the less crowded backstreets.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine, but do take care, Oran,” Herscherik said.

“Don’t worry—I’ve got this!” Oran replied with a smile.

As Kurenai quietly looked on, Ao approached her and took her hand.

“We’ll see each other again, right?” Ao asked as he held Kurenai’s hand. His voice betrayed a great deal of anxiousness for such an ordinarily stoic person.

Kurenai maintained her usual smile as she answered him with a quiet nod.

“Sorry to ruin the mood here, but it’s about time to leave,” Oran said, struggling to decide where he should look at the moment.

Kurenai stepped away from Ao and once again gave Herscherik a deep bow.

“I’ll leave him in your care, Your Highness”

Herscherik responded with a firm nod.

At this moment, Herscherik did not give much thought to the meaning behind Kurenai’s words. It was only later that he would find out what she’d really meant.

Kurenai and Oran left Herscherik’s room, passed through one of the castle’s back gates, and proceeded along the town’s busy main thoroughfare. Oran made sure to keep a vigilant eye on their surroundings, but all of a sudden he felt someone grab his arm. He stopped walking, glancing behind him to see Kurenai, her hood shading her face as she looked down.

“Kurenai, is something wrong?”

“I’m terribly sorry, Sir Octavian, but I think the heat and crowd has gotten the better of me...” Kurenai said weakly. She was grimacing as if fighting off nausea, her hand pressed to her mouth.

It was a cloudless afternoon, as hot as a summer day, and while someone as fit as Oran might have been able to withstand it, a woman wearing a coat with a hood in this weather must have been practically suffocating.

“Let’s use a shaded side road instead, shall we?” Oran suggested as they left the main thoroughfare.

They ducked into a nearly deserted alley where the surrounding buildings blocked out the sun, making it noticeably cooler than the main thoroughfare. After walking for a few minutes, Oran heard a thud behind him. Turning around, he found Kurenai leaning against a building as she slowly slid toward the ground.

“Kurenai?!”

Oran frantically ran up to Kurenai, knelt down, and reached out to support her. As he did, however, Kurenai held out her palm right in front of Oran’s face. The moment Oran saw the purple crystal pendant swaying in Kurenai’s palm, he realized his own mistake.

Before Oran had a chance to back away from her, the crystal started to shine. He attempted to shield his eyes with his arm, but it was too late—a sudden drowsiness assaulted him, and he stumbled into the wall, unable to keep his balance. Under normal circumstances, the pain from the hit would have jolted him awake, but his eyelids still felt heavy as he struggled to fight the sleepiness that had come over him.

She...got me... Oran silently bemoaned, realizing that he had fallen victim to Manipulation Magic.

Oran did not possess much Magic Within. Though, unlike Herscherik, he did have a small amount that allowed him to cast very simple spells, it was not enough to effectively guard against Manipulation Magic. Still, all he had to do as a knight was to take any enemy Spellcasters out before they had a chance to attack him. As the success of Manipulation Magic depended to a large extent on the target’s mental fortitude, his weakness to magic was not exactly a fatal one. Oran was able to fend off most normal spells using his willpower alone.

Unfortunately, this time he had been surprised by Kurenai, whom he trusted, and the spell was strong enough to ignore what little Magic Within he did possess. His drowsiness threatened to put him to sleep at any moment. Oran could feel himself starting to lose consciousness.

“Kure...nai...” he called out, keeping his heavy eyelids open with sheer willpower. Surprised that Oran was still awake, Kurenai kneeled next to him and spoke.

“I’m so sorry, Sir Octavian. Don’t worry, this spell only puts the target to sleep. It won’t harm you physically, and it has no lingering side effects.”

“What...are you...” Oran attempted to ask what she was planning, but failed to complete his sentence. Kurenai, though, understood what he was trying to say and returned his question with a troubled smile.

“Please take care of him—of Gale. I have something I need to do.”

Oran was confused at the sound of this new name he’d never heard before, but he did not have time to ponder it now. He reached out to try to grab Kurenai, but she stood up before his hand could reach her, and Oran ended up grasping at thin air.

“Wai—”

“I wish...” Kurenai interrupted Oran trying to stop her. She spoke to him with neither her usual soft smile nor her troubled expression from earlier. Instead, she was on the verge of tears.

Kurenai turned her back on Oran, and the knight could do nothing but watch her leave as his vision grew more blurry by the second. His body refused to listen to him, and he felt as though his head was being squeezed with great force. He knew that if only he closed his eyes, he would be able to escape his suffering.

Oran bit his lip, and the pain brought his consciousness back for a moment as the taste of blood filled his mouth, but the drowsiness quickly overwhelmed him yet again.

Without hesitation, Oran immediately grabbed the knife he always carried and slashed open his own arm.

After leaving Oran behind in the back alley, Kurenai quickly continued down secluded roads so as to not attract attention. After a while, she arrived at the agreed upon location, where a carriage was waiting for her. She climbed aboard and removed her hood.

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,” she said with a smile to the man sitting across from her. The man—Thomas Rosseholm—gave an exaggerated nod as he replied.

“Yes, you certainly did. Were you followed?”

Kurenai shook her head, maintaining her smile without any hint of offense.

“No.”

“Good. Let’s depart, then.”

Though bothered by Kurenai’s uncannily firm smile, Thomas ordered the coachman to set off.

Upon hearing the report, Herscherik became momentarily paralyzed with shock. He then ran over to his knight of service, who had returned with the assistance of two soldiers. His arm was wrapped in a red-stained cloth that was only growing more stained with each passing moment. It was clear that the red stain was his knight’s own blood.

“Oran?!”

“Sorry... I...was careless...” Oran said feebly to his master. “I need...to speak...alone...”

Kuro swung into action before Herscherik could even give the order. He dismissed the soldiers who had carried Oran here, instructing them not to tell anyone what had happened, before fetching a first aid kit and kneeling down next to Oran.

“We have to see to your wound right away!” a pale Herscherik cried, as Kuro removed the blood-soaked cloth and studied the wound.

“Did you do this yourself?” Kuro asked, looking up at Oran. He based this deduction on the wound’s cleanliness, the fact that it had missed any arteries, and its location on Oran’s non-dominant arm.

“Can’t stay awake...without pain...” Oran said as he gasped for air at short intervals.

“It’s sleep magic,” Shiro said, furrowing his brow as he observed Oran’s struggle before reaching out with his hand to investigate the spell that had been laid upon him.

“Can you lift it, Shiro?” Herscherik asked frantically.

“It’s dangerous to forcibly lift a spell that’s already affecting someone’s mind. Besides, I’m not very good with Manipulation Magic...” Shiro trailed off as his beautiful face twisted into a frown.

Herscherik knew what Shiro was implying. Manipulation Magic was traumatic for him, as someone he trusted had once turned out to have been altering his memories over a long period of time in an attempt to control him. Shiro now preferred not to deal with Manipulation Magic at all if he could avoid it.

“Still, I can temporarily reduce the effects of the spell.”

After seeing Herscherik grimace as though he was the one in pain, Shiro let out a small sigh, placed his hand on Oran’s forehead, and started reciting an incantation. His white hair began to glow a faint purple color, and Oran’s breathing evened out somewhat.

“I’ll treat the wound now. Just deal with the pain.”

“Don’t...worry... I need the pain...to stay awake...”

Kuro took out a piece of cloth and wrapped it tightly around Oran’s arm to stop the bleeding.

“Oran, you can hold on to my hand as hard as you like,” Herscherik said, grabbing Oran’s dominant hand.

Kuro tied the piece of cloth in place around Oran’s upper arm to stop the flow of blood as he began to treat the wound. Shiro continued reciting his incantation, his face marked with even more frown lines than usual. Herscherik could do nothing but watch quietly as he endured the pain of Oran gripping his hand.

“Hersch...” Oran said in a strained voice, clearly still in pain despite Shiro’s magic. Herscherik gripped Oran’s hand in return, as if to remind him of his presence.

“Oran, you can keep it short. Explain what happened.”

Kuro’s treatment was just a stopgap measure. Oran needed to be treated by a doctor, and would then require rest. But he couldn’t relax yet—not when he had gone this far to report what had happened to his master—or his suffering would have been for naught.

“It was...Kurenai...”

Oran explained what had happened in fragments, while intermittently furrowing his brow as he fought against his drowsiness—how Kurenai had used the sleep spell on him, how she had vanished afterward, as well as how she hadn’t seemed like her usual self when they parted.

“I’m...sorry...” Ao suddenly said, having been unable to do anything but watch from a distance until now.

“Ao?” Herscherik said, still holding Oran’s hand, as he turned his eyes toward the beastman.

Ao looked down, avoiding Herscherik’s gaze.

“This magic only forces the target to sleep. As far as I’m aware, it doesn’t pose any physical threat.”

A comrade of Kurenai’s who specialized in magic had given her this item for her own protection. It could be activated by simply imbuing it with Magic, and it was renowned for its quick activation time and effectiveness.

“This ‘Gale’...she spoke of... It’s you...isn’t it...”

Ao did not deny it.

“I’m truly sorry,” Ao said, before falling silent, simply standing in place.

“Ao... Are you apologizing because she’s ‘Felvolk’s Greatest Treasure’?” Herscherik said, releasing Oran’s hand and rising to his feet.

Ao looked up in surprise at Herscherik.

“You...knew?”

“I’m sorry, but I took the liberty of researching you. There was just too much about you both that didn’t add up.”

Herscherik had been unable to shake off the strange feeling he’d had about the pair, and had asked Kuro to look into their history. Kuro had discovered that there had recently been an internal conflict in Felvolk where the unit belonging to the genius tactician known as Felvolk’s Greatest Treasure, had been wiped out. The tactician in question had gone missing.

The timeline matched up to when Kurenai and Ao had first arrived in Gracis. Furthermore, if Kurenai was the tactician in question, it explained her skills. Herscherik had managed to get a glimpse of her strategic talents when he was kidnapped, if only by accident.

The two of them must have, for one reason or another, fled Felvolk and made their way to Gracis. It was unlikely that Felvolk would let its “Greatest Treasure” escape their grasp so readily, and if they knew she was traveling with a beastman they would likely assume that they were escaping to the Lustian Confederation and strengthen that border accordingly. But such a skilled tactician would have anticipated that move, and would instead flee somewhere Felvolk wasn’t expecting—Gracis.

“If you had just quietly left this country for the Confederation without incident, I wouldn’t have said anything or pressed the matter,” Herscherik explained.

As long as they didn’t bring it up themselves, Herscherik had planned to remain silent about their identities. He had felt that would have been the best course of action for both parties.

“But now that it’s come to this, you’ll explain, won’t you?” Herscherik said quietly, but firmly.

Ao closed his eyes and remained silent for a few moments, before steeling himself and opening both his eyes and his mouth.

“My name is Gale. I was the captain of Felvolk’s battle slave unit. She—Alterisse Danvir—served as our tactician, and was the genius known as Felvolk’s Greatest Treasure. Just as you guessed, we fled here from Felvolk.”

Ao—Gale—first encountered the tactician when she was fourteen years old, before she had become known as Felvolk’s Greatest Treasure.

“Hello, everyone. My name is Alterisse Danvir. I’ll be commanding this unit as of today. It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” the girl with crimson hair and dark eyes had said as she bowed to the group of men who were over twice her age and size.

On her visit to the battle slaves’ barracks—a one-story structure so run-down that it barely qualified as an actual building—the girl simply smiled as she bathed in the murderous glares of the battle slaves.

“From now on, your lives will be in my hands.”

Due to the Brand of Servitude, the state of Felvolk already controlled the lives of every slave that stood before her. If ordered to fight, they fought; if ordered to die, they had no choice but to die. The moment the Brand of Servitude was carved into their chests, they had lost their pride as beastmen.

Gale observed the young tactician and his hostile comrades from a distance.

So that’s our new commander, huh.

Their previous commander had been replaced after suffering significant casualties during the unit’s last battle. The former commander had blamed the slaves for the loss while he gleefully gossiped about his replacement.

The new commander had graduated from the military academy, a feat which normally took eight years to complete, in half the usual time. She had no actual experience in battle, though, and was the daughter of the disgraced Danvir house.

The Danvir house had once been a prestigious family that had produced many talented tacticians over the generations. But that was before the head of the house had suffered a major loss during an important battle that ultimately resulted in a crushing defeat for the army, before finally being slain himself. As a result, the heirless Danvir house had fallen to ruin. The daughter of this once distinguished house, still a mere child, had been nothing but trouble to the army. Gale understood that the girl had been forced into her current position by someone higher up.

Gale was neither excited nor dejected at this realization—in fact, he felt nothing at all.

It’s not like anything will change. They would still be forced to fight until the day they died, just as always.

However, Gale’s prediction turned out to be very wrong. Alterisse gave them only two orders: to always obey her command and to never give up on living.

Her strategies would lead them to victory on one battlefield after the next, almost as if she knew the outcome in advance—with so few losses that it became pointless to even try comparing her to any previous commander. After a few months had passed, not a single member of the unit still looked down on her, and their gazes had turned from hostile to bemused.

“Now, for the next battle...” Alterisse explained their current situation and predicted the enemy’s location, numbers, as well as all of the moves they would make. She went on to explain the strategy she had developed to counter all of this.

Despite being constantly outnumbered, she would use tactics such as ambushes and traps to turn the tide of battle in their favor, resulting in one victory after the other.

“The unit hiding here should attack the enemy from behind on my signal. Any questions?” she said with a smile. The slaves looked at each other before turning to their captain. Seeing their gazes, Gale slowly opened his mouth.

“Why do you always use such roundabout tactics?”

“Roundabout, you say?” Alterisse looked at him quizzically, still maintaining her smile.

“Every other commander would just send us to the front lines to fight to the death.”

They would be sent straight into battle without explanation, thinking of nothing but killing the enemies in front of them—not even knowing how many enemy soldiers they were going to face. Ever since the new tactician had shown up, though, they had been given advance information, and by fighting and coordinating according to her strategies they had managed to minimize their losses. Often, they even emerged from battle without suffering a single serious injury.

“Your former commanders were all incompetent. Fools, the lot of them,” Alterisse spat nonchalantly, all the while maintaining her smile. “You are battle slaves.”

This utterance caused the hostility of the slaves to resurface. But even as she bathed in hostile glares, her smile did not falter for a moment.

“I repeat. You are battle slaves. You are our most precious military assets. You will never find a unit as dependable as this one, no matter where you look.”

“Dependable...?” one of the members asked, confused, at which Alterisse nodded.

“I’m convinced that you possess the fighting prowess of a company many times the size of this one.”

Beastmen were physically stronger than humans to begin with, and there were many who excelled at magic too. Their major weakness was that their shortcomings also tended to be more extreme compared to humans. Despite this, they could easily hold their own against a regular company with the right strategy to compensate, Alterisse explained with her usual smile.

Suddenly, her expression changed, as she looked at the members of the unit with a piercing gaze.

“I have something I need to do in this country. To achieve that, I need a proven track record. You will be my means to that end.”

She went back to her normal gentle smile so quickly that her fierce expression a moment ago might as well not have existed. She looked around in the quiet room before fixing her gaze on Gale.

“Letting valuable fighting power go to waste in a battle this insignificant is out of the question.”

She was not underestimating the difficulty of the battle ahead—to her, it truly was insignificant.

“Now then, any other questions?” she said, looking around the room inquisitively once more. No one spoke up. Alterisse nodded as she gathered the documents spread out across the desk and handed out her orders. “In that case, start preparing for battle now. I hear the rain can be quite awful this time of year, so make sure you equip yourself for the weather.”

She did not receive an affirmative response from the slaves; upon asking why, they informed her that they did not actually have the needed equipment.

“So they won’t even process your requests... And the same goes for the other supplies...” Alterisse thought for a few seconds before continuing. “Very well. Please leave it to me.”

Alterisse then left the barracks. A few days later, not only did they receive the equipment they required, but also food, medical supplies, and more.

When Gale asked her what she had done to achieve all this, Alterisse simply smiled and responded, “It’s my job to ensure that you’re all in the best condition to fight. Don’t worry about it.”

Over the three years that Alterisse commanded the unit, they did not suffer a single defeat. Instead, they distinguished themselves in one battle after another. The slave unit—along with their commander, Alterisse—became famous within the army.

“You’re nothing but a girl from a fallen house!”

Gale stopped in his tracks upon hearing the insult. He peeked out from behind a building to see that two men in military uniforms had backed Alterisse up against a wall.

“You get a little bit lucky on the battlefield, and it goes straight to your head, huh? Learn your place, woman!”

The men grabbed the book she was holding out of her hands and threw it to the ground. Alterisse showed no hint of fear, though, nor was she flustered. She simply picked the book up again and gave the men a smile.

“Is that all you had to say?”

Her usually gentle and charming smile was nothing less than a direct provocation for the man who was yelling. He immediately grew enraged and raised his fist.

“Arrogant little wench!”

However, his fist instead struck the solid chest of a tall man, and he only ended up hurting his own hand. The moment it seemed like Alterisse was about to be hit, Gale had leaped in to save her without a second thought.

“Gale...?”

“You filthy slave!” the man yelled, drowning out Alterisse. He grabbed the sword hanging from his hip, and hit Gale hard in his shoulder without unsheathing it.

Gale grimaced at the merciless blow, but he never made a sound as he continued to shield Alterisse from her attackers. They would give up once they grew tired—that was the only option Gale had as a slave. Alterisse herself robbed him of that option.

“Stop! If you continue to hurt him, I’ll report you to the inspector general!” Alterisse shouted as she leaped out from behind Gale. Her usual smile completely gone, she stared down the two men fearlessly.

He may have been a slave, but Gale was still her subordinate. If he was injured for no reason by someone who wasn’t even his superior, the inspector general would be forced to reprimand the assailant in some way.

The men clucked their tongues and left, hurling abuse at the pair as they retreated. Once they were gone, Alterisse placed her hand on Gale’s cheek, which had a visible mark from the savage blow.

“Why did you intervene, Gale?” Alterisse asked, on the verge of tears.

“I don’t know,” Gale replied honestly. The moment it seemed like Alterisse was in danger of being struck, his body had moved on its own. He gripped the delicate hand on his cheek and asked her in return, “Why do you go so far to protect us?”

He wasn’t only referring to the incident that had just played out. Time and time again, Alterisse had worked to improve the slave unit’s conditions. She would pour any rewards she received from her accomplishments into improving the barracks or compensating the families of fallen soldiers, keeping only the bare minimum for herself. As a result, the living conditions of the slaves had improved markedly compared to before she took over.

Alterisse looked away, trying to avoid Gale’s eyes.

“It’s the job of an officer to protect their subordinates,” she explained, but her words did not quite convince Gale.

“We’re slaves. You said so yourself, Commander.”

Alterisse’s body jerked upon hearing Gale’s words; she glanced at him quickly before turning her gaze down to the ground.

“I’m...sorry...”

With each year that passed, Alterisse amassed even more victories, and before she knew it she had turned twenty years old. Having been a soldier since she was fourteen and never losing even a single battle, she had come to be known by a different name within the army—Felvolk’s Greatest Treasure, blessed by the Goddess of War, who could reverse the tide of battle as though by divine intervention no matter how desperate the outlook. By that time, there wasn’t a single man in her unit left who would dream of belittling her—even though she was human, they had accepted her as an ally, a comrade-in-arms, and a genius tactician who always led them to victory.

While camping outside during a particular battle, though, someone noticed that Alterisse was missing. One after another, the unit members expressed their concern for her before their gazes inevitably turned to Gale. Propelled by their gazes, Gale stood up and left to search for his commander.

He found Alterisse sitting alone on top of a small hill, gazing at the stars. When Gale had first met her she had been only fourteen years of age, but with the passing of time the young girl had transformed into a grown woman.

Gale removed his coat, approached Alterisse silently, and laid it over her shoulders.

“Gale,” Alterisse said as she turned around and gave him a soft smile. Her downturned eyes emphasized her feminine beauty.

Everyone in the unit was aware that Alterisse had started receiving marriage offers. As a young, talented tactician, it was no surprise that all the leading houses of Felvolk wanted to make her theirs. However, she stubbornly refused to take any of them, which filled Gale with a strange sense of relief.

“The night breeze is cold,” Gale said brusquely, and Alterisse responded with an even brighter, happy smile. Wondering if he was the only one she smiled like that for, Gale grew a little restless; Alterisse, unaware of what was going through Gale’s head, covered herself with Gale’s coat as if embracing it.

“Thank you... Gale, I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to change this country,” Alterisse said as she looked up, as though swearing upon the stars. “At first, all of you were only a means to an end. I merely used you to climb the social ladder.”

Alterisse gave Gale a sad smile as she lamented her own callousness.

“But now, I care more about staying with all of you,” she continued. “I love each and every one of you. You’re the only family I have now, after losing my own, and I can’t bear watching you continue to be oppressed as slaves.”

Alterisse turned her gaze away from the sky and back to Gale.

“I’ll force this country to recognize you. I swear,” she concluded, flashing Gale a soft smile that concealed an unimaginably firm resolve.

After that, the two of them quickly grew closer. It wasn’t long before Gale began to call her by her name instead of just “Commander,” and soon enough, Alterisse was referred to as Felvolk’s Greatest Treasure not just by the army, but throughout the country.

“We continued to fight and win for a decade after Alte first joined the army,” Gale explained.

Alterisse’s skills were not limited to the battlefield. As she continued to distinguish herself, she grew more and more influential within the army. She became renowned even outside the military as a genius tactician blessed by the Goddess of War herself, and with that reputation came powerful supporters.

She continued to receive offers of marriage from the ten houses, which she persistently declined; at the same time, she fought against orders from above so she could continue to command the battle slave unit. Most people would not have been able to defy orders from their army superiors, but as Felvolk’s Greatest Treasure, she had too much influence in the military for her superiors to ignore—much of it as a result of her own scheming, of course. She would also allow the ten houses and her superiors to take credit for some of her achievements, and also had stockpiled plenty of blackmail material in case she ever needed it. She did it all not out of personal greed, but for the sake of her comrades, and her country as a whole.

The upper echelons of the military had likely started to catch on to what she was trying to do—something that would shake the very foundations of the country. They attempted to pull her away from the slave unit before she accomplished her goal, but she would deflect every attempt.

Suddenly, Gale hesitated for a moment before steeling himself and continuing his story.

“Our unit had steadily risen in status within the army and became too powerful to ignore. We were promised that if we distinguished ourselves in just one more battle, we would be freed from slavery and welcomed as citizens. But then...that happened.”

Kurenai—or Alterisse Danvir—watched the scenery pass by on her way out of the capital. The carriage she was riding in, readied by the ten houses, was one of the most expensive money could buy, and barely shook or made any noise at all as it traveled. It was a world of difference from the fruit store owner’s wagon she had ridden to the capital.

As she looked out of the window, Thomas Rosseholm—who was sitting opposite to her—began to speak.

“I certainly never expected you to approach me. Didn’t you have a thing for those slaves?” he said somewhat mockingly.

“Oh, I’ve come to my senses now,” Alterisse responded with an elegant, unfazed smile. “In the end, they’re nothing but beasts, inferior to us humans. I was unable to escape him and was forced to come to this country. I was so relieved to see you here. That’s why...”

Alterisse eschewed her normal gentle smile in favor of a bewitching expression that made full use of her feminine charm as she continued.

“...I want to repay you. Please, let me assist you with whatever you desire,” she whispered intimately, hiding her true intentions behind the mask of her smile. Seemingly satisfied by her words, the man responded with a grin.

What a simpleton. Still forcing a smile, Alterisse finished evaluating the man’s character and had to prevent herself from chuckling out loud at how pathetic he was.

This man had been second in Alterisse’s class when she graduated, and she had also received an offer to marry him in the past. Alterisse’s first impression had been that of a pitiful man whose ambitions far exceeded his talents.

He was the second son of the Rosseholm family, one of Felvolk’s ten major houses. He had grown up being constantly compared to his older brother, the talented heir of the family, and his personality was dominated by his sense of inferiority toward his brother and the conceited assumption that he was somehow capable of much more—and on top of that, a bloated ambition that far outstripped both. He wanted to surpass his brother, become the heir of his house, and finally become the marshal of the realm and rule over all of Felvolk. This was his grand—or laughable, if you asked Alterisse—ambition.

It was that very ambition of his that made him all the more easy to manipulate, as it clouded his judgment and made him jump at any opportunity to get what he wanted; on the other hand, he tended to ignore everything that was inconvenient to him. He was exactly what Alterisse needed. At the same time, she was astonished that the powerful Rosseholm house would produce someone so pathetic.

I can’t believe my father was ever overcome by a family like this... How could they possibly ruin such a prestigious house of tacticians? Alterisse lamented internally.

Alterisse was only seven years old when she decided that she, too, would become a tactician.

“Father, I want to be a tactician too.”

What had prompted the young girl to declare such a thing was a conversation she had overheard between her father’s friends who had been invited to her birthday party. They had lamented the current state of the Danvir house, which had produced a long line of talented tacticians—but now only consisted of Alterisse’s father, whose only child was a girl.

She was also simply interested in what her father’s job was like to begin with.

“Alterisse?” her father had said, giving his beloved daughter a surprised look as he sat in front of the fireplace with a book in his hands. Alterisse gazed back at him with determined eyes.

“I want to become a tactician just like you, Father!”

“Well, that’s great to hear. But you’ll have to work very hard, you know,” her father replied nonchalantly, not taking her declaration seriously—and with no idea how this would incite her.

Starting the very next day, Alterisse began to study like she was possessed. She voraciously read not just general textbooks, but also military treatises. Any time she came across something she didn’t understand, she would ask her private tutor or her father—regardless of the time. With each passing day, her questions became more difficult to answer.

“About the battle that took place here, wouldn’t it have been better to prepare an ambush using...”

Her father had assumed that she would grow tired of her studies eventually, but the longer he watched his daughter do the very opposite, on top of displaying such tremendous talent at her young age, the more he began to worry. His beloved daughter, not even of school age yet, was explaining tactical flaws in one of the Danvir house’s past battles. She had already proven too much for her private tutor to handle, so he had finally thrown in the towel.

As the head of the house, all Alterisse’s father could do was to steel himself.

“Listen, Alterisse. A tactician must never let their emotions show on their face,” her father said, as he explained the proper mindset for a strategist. Knowledge could come later, he thought—first, he needed to ensure that she had the mental fortitude required. “If the tactician acts visibly shaken in front of their soldiers, it can affect morale. No matter how hopeless the situation seems, you need the mental fortitude to smile no matter what. Are you capable of that?”

Alterisse engraved her father’s words into her heart.

She then continued to pursue her studies, as she filled her head with knowledge. Then, despite being a girl and only ten years of age, she passed the entrance exam for the military academy with top marks.

The day before her father left for a battle, the two of them had one of their usual lively discussions about strategies. By this time, Alterisse already wore a smile that looked mature far beyond her years.

“Alterisse, you might not be cut out for this line of work.”

“Father?” Alterisse replied, puzzled.

“You are far too compassionate and idealistic for a tactician in service to this country. It makes me worried.”

Unable to comprehend the intent behind her father’s words, Alterisse again threw her father a puzzled look, but he only smiled as he patted her on the head.

Once the battle was over, her father did not return.

Alterisse was informed that her father had made a strategic blunder that had resulted in a devastating defeat, and he had been slain in battle. Upon hearing this, her mother fell ill; she died soon after, as if to follow after her husband. Alterisse, who had just enrolled in the military academy, was now the last remaining member of her house.

The crushing defeat led to the Danvir house being stripped of its status. As Alterisse sat dumbfounded during the funeral of her father and mother, nobles whose names she barely knew fought over what little wealth the state had not already seized from her family before cutting their ties completely.

As she now lived in the military academy’s dormitory, Alterisse herself would be all right until her graduation. But the state and the nobility had completely robbed her of any possessions that might remind her of her parents. She wandered through her house one last time in a stupor, searching for any memento of her family, when she happened to stumble upon the truth. By pure coincidence, she managed to eavesdrop on an important conversation. The head of the Rosseholm house, who had attended the funeral, was talking with one of his subordinates in one of the estate’s corridors, and he failed to notice Alterisse.

“Well, dead men tell no tales, as the saying goes,” the head of Rosseholm family said.

“Yes, indeed. Lucky indeed that the chief tactician volunteered to join the rear guard.”

“Thanks to that, we managed to lay all the blame on him. That house is ruined, which will spare us a great deal of future trouble. The daughter was in the military academy, wasn’t she? Well, if she’s pretty enough, I guess I could repay her by letting her marry one of my sons.”

The men left, laughing. Alterisse covered her mouth with her hands to prevent herself from making any noise, so they wouldn’t discover her.

“A tactician must never let their emotions show on their face.”

Yes, Father. I will never let my emotions show.

Even as tears ran down her cheeks, her mouth still maintained a smile.

I will never forgive them.

After that, Alterisse would spend all her available time studying, even sacrificing sleep to secure her position as top of the class. She managed to skip grades, as she surpassed all manner of school records. Though it usually took eight years to graduate from the academy, she completed the entire course after an unprecedented four, making her the academy’s youngest graduate ever. Alterisse then enlisted in the Felvolk army as a tactician.

However, as talented as she may have been, she was still a woman in the patriarchal society of Felvolk. Furthermore, she was the daughter of the infamous Danvir house that had led the country to a crushing defeat, so no one in the army wanted anything to do with her.

Despite all of this, there were still those who didn’t want her talents to go to waste. Thus, the leadership made a decision to give her command of the battle slave unit—but that turned out to be a mistake on their part. Even though the odds were stacked against her, Alterisse distinguished herself time and time again. If anything, the difficult environment ended up giving her the freedom to act as she pleased.

She ignored orders after emerging victorious from battle after battle, amassed achievements to her name, assisted her troubled superiors so they eventually ended up in her debt, and uncovered their weaknesses. Crushing someone with a few well-placed words, all the while maintaining an elegant smile and tone, was the easiest thing in the world for her.

In no time at all, Alterisse’s accomplishments had begun to pile up, and there were now few people who would dare disparage her slave unit. When Alterisse had finally become impossible to ignore, she made a demand that would shake the foundations of the country.

“What? The slave unit won the day again?”

“They say the next time they distinguish themselves, they’re going to grant them all citizenship...”

This would endanger the very institution of slavery, one of the cornerstones of the country. Felvolk had always expanded its borders through war. As a result, the country was in a constant state of domestic conflict, and it would attempt to direct the resulting anger toward the surrounding countries instead through invasions. The inhabitants of occupied countries were forced to pay exorbitant taxes, and beastmen in particular were taxed much more oppressively than humans. A beastman who failed to pay even once was forced into slavery. The entire system was nothing but a pretext to enslave them, as beastmen were highly prized for their natural abilities.

Alterisse was fully aware of this when she demanded freedom for the slaves under her command. But once they had gained citizenship and been liberated from the Brands of Servitude that restrained them—against whom would these newly-freed beastmen bear their fangs after Felvolk had stolen their countries, killed their families, and taken away their dignity?

The leadership of Felvolk—the ten houses—decided to eliminate her.

It was supposed to have been a normal mission to subjugate an uprising, just like the many they had undertaken in the past. Her superiors ordered Alterisse’s slave unit to divide itself up into multiple smaller squads and take up position in a forest under the cover of night. And then, suddenly, their vision turned red, the sound of explosions rang out all around them, and the forest was engulfed in a sea of flames.

“Commander! We’ve lost contact with the other squads! What are your orders?”

“Multiple enemies sighted in the area! We’re surrounded! What do we do, Commander?!”

The reports of her unit members overwhelmed Alterisse as she watched the scene unfold, dumbfounded.

How? Who leaked the information?

Without advance knowledge, it would have been impossible for anyone short of an omniscient god to know exactly where in this dark forest they were hiding. Yet the enemy had pinpointed their precise location and had prepared an attack accordingly. The only person aware of the slave unit’s whereabouts should have been the leader of the main force—the head of the Rosseholm house.

It couldn’t be... As much as she loathed the thought, there was no other explanation. An ally must have leaked the information on them. That was the only explanation.

While the slaves were highly capable in battle, they were fewer in number than regular soldiers, and they were currently split into even smaller groups to prepare for an ambush. If the enemy knew where they were and had them surrounded, they would all be wiped out in turn.

“Why?!” Alterisse asked herself as she listened to the reports flooding in from her subordinates. Where had she gone wrong?

Once this battle was over, both she and her comrades would be accepted by their country. Felvolk was supposed to change. How had everything gone so wrong?

“How could this happen?!”

A tactician must never let their emotions show on their face. Her father’s words echoed in her head. Alterisse, you might not be cut out for this line of work.

Perhaps her father had known all along—Felvolk would never offer Alterisse what she desired—no matter how hard she worked, how loyal she was, or how dearly she wished for it.

“Is this... Is this...the answer that you’re giving me, Felvolk?!”

Alterisse’s screams disappeared into the night sky, stained red by the leaping flames.

“What’s wrong?”

Alterisse’s thoughts shifted back to the present upon hearing Thomas speak, and she answered him with a vague smile.

“Oh, I was just lost in thought—thinking about a past I will never forget.”

That sea of flames seemed as though it had happened long ago. Surrounded by fire, her comrades had been desperate to help her and Gale escape. It was obvious that, after being unable to find their bodies, the army would block off all routes to Lustia.

Thus the only option to escape Felvolk had been to do the unexpected thing and flee to Gracis instead. At the very least, she wanted to help Gale escape.

As Alterisse stared off into the distance, Thomas scoffed.

“Don’t get sentimental. Things are only just getting started.”

“You’re right,” Alterisse responded from behind her smiling mask. Thomas’ words went in one ear and out the other.

Alterisse placed one hand on her chest, where the necklace she had been given was hidden beneath her clothes.

Yes, that’s right. My revenge upon those who betrayed me—betrayed us—is only just getting started. She swore to herself that she would avenge her father and her fallen comrades. Even if that means having to betray him too.

Alterisse thought back to the stoic expression of the man she loved, only barely managing to keep her sorrow from her face.

He’ll be fine. I know they’ll take good care of him. She was convinced that the kind, resolute prince would do everything in his power to help the beastman.

“I’m sorry, Gale...”

Her whisper disappeared into the noise of the carriage, and did not reach Thomas’s ears.

After he’d finished explaining how the two of them had reached Gracis, Ao took a deep breath before resolutely opening his mouth.

“Alte is trying to exact revenge on Felvolk. She wants to destroy it. That’s the only explanation I can think of.”

“Destroy Felvolk?” Herscherik thought that had to be far too grand a revenge plan for one single person to carry out herself.

“Alte once told me that destroying Felvolk would be child’s play.”

Maybe she was just tipsy, or maybe she was just in high spirits after one of her many victories, but she had explained how to do it once over drinks.

“This country is held together by a thread. If you’re not careful, it can easily come loose. Everyone in the government and the ten houses think of nobody but themselves,” Alterisse had said as she laughed. “If you just set your mind to it, destroying this country would be child’s play. Just get the leadership and the ten houses to squabble amongst themselves—that’ll weaken it from the inside. Then all you have to do is leak information to the nearby countries, and they’ll devour what’s left.”

Even if it wasn’t quite as easy as she made it sound, it did not sound like a joke coming from a genius tactician like Alterisse.

“So,” she continued, “this country needs to unite. There’s a limit to how much foreign territory you can conquer while suppressing any discontent. If this country is to survive, it needs to change.”

And she had done all in her power to lead the way—but now that the country had betrayed her, Gale concluded that this would be Alterisse’s only means of exacting revenge.

Herscherik fell silent as he processed Gale’s story. Oran, whose wound was still being treated by Kuro, began to speak as the prince was still deep in thought.

“Hersch, just before Kurenai left, she said this on the verge of tears: ‘I wish I could have served that prince like you.’” Oran had wanted to deliver those words to his master, even if it meant wounding himself.

Herscherik closed his eyes and clenched his fist. When his emerald eyes opened again, there was no hint of hesitation in them.

“Thank you, Oran. You can leave the rest to me.”

Upon hearing that, Oran finally allowed his heavy eyelids to slide shut. Shiro stopped casting his magic, and Kuro quickly finished treating the wound before carrying Oran to his bedroom on Herscherik’s orders. Then, just as Herscherik was about to instruct them on what to do next, an unexpected visitor appeared.