Anecdote: The Blue Tempest and the Smiling Crimson Tactician

A man stood observing the deep blue sea spread out before him. His eyes were azure, the dark blue of his hair recalled the depths of the sea, and from his back spread a pair of wings the same color as his hair, marking him as a beastman—a birdman, to be precise.

The man was perched atop the main mast of a merchant ship, watching the ocean waves as they made for the horizon. It was high enough that anyone but a seasoned sailor would usually be paralyzed with fear, but as a birdman able to soar through the skies, he simply gazed out over the sea without even needing to hold on to anything.

Suddenly, he heard a voice. Glancing down at the deck of the ship, the man saw a person waving in his direction, and he quickly jumped down from the mast. After a split second’s sensation of weightlessness, the man then gave himself to gravity as he plummeted downwards.

The other passengers watched on, stunned. However, just as he passed the middle of the mast, he spread his wings, floating in the air for a short moment before landing on the bridge without a sound.

“What is it?” he asked the person whose voice he had heard.

In front of the man stood a woman with deep crimson hair that reached her shoulders, and she narrowed her eyes to give him a gentle smile. To this man, she was the only woman in the world who mattered.

Her name was Alterisse Danvir—nay, Alterisse di Rot—although her master called her Kurenai.

“Well, I couldn’t find you anywhere, Gale...” Kurenai answered bashfully.

“I see,” the man in question, Gale Fal Kilvy Blau—referred to as Ao by his master—answered brusquely and without emotion.

“The sea breeze is so nice, isn’t it?” Kurenai continued, taking no note of Ao’s demeanor as she held down her hair to prevent it from being tousled by the wind.

Ao quietly nodded.

“If things go according to schedule, we should be arriving in Lustia in two days,” Kurenai said.

“I see,” Ao responded, yet again brusque and emotionless.

Most people would have been enraged at Ao’s attitude and apparent lack of interest, but Kurenai only smiled happily. Having spent many years by his side, Kurenai could tell that Ao was truly excited about journeying to the Lustian Confederation, even without him saying it out loud. Whenever the other passengers talked about Lustia, he would secretly listen in on their conversations, and as the days passed he had become more restless and began to climb atop the mast—though no one but Kurenai would have understood this change in behavior.

However, she had also noticed that he would wear a slightly anxious expression from time to time.

“Are you worried, Gale?”

Ao twitched slightly before turning his gaze down.

The man known as Ao was born in a small country of birdmen called Kilvy, before the beastmen had formed the alliance that led to the creation of the Lustian Confederation. Though its population was small, it was a beautiful country surrounded by abundant forests.

But Kilvy no longer existed. The country was ravaged and destroyed by Felvolk.

As the first born son of the king, Ao was a prince of Kilvy. As beastmen generally had few children, the whole country eagerly celebrated the birth of a prince, and the neighboring beastman nations sent gifts as well.

The prince grew up happily and comfortably. He learned to fly first among all the other children his age, and he would spend his days soaring through the skies, from morning to night, faster than anyone could keep up with. He was also a skilled fighter—when it came to spears and rods in particular, he could best even adult soldiers.

He was an expressive child, and though he rarely spoke he was always cheerful and upright. He treated his elders with respect and those younger than him with kindness, and everyone looked forward to the day he would take the throne.

But that never came to pass.

Before the prince who would grow up to be Ao had even come of age, the neighboring country of Felvolk launched an invasion of Kilvy. As Kilvy was a narrow country, the Felvolk army made it to the capital in a matter of days, well before the capital had even received word from the border, and they did not have time to ready their defenses. Though the Kilvy soldiers did their best to oppose the invading army, Felvolk quickly wiped them out using magical weapons. In order to buy time for the citizens to flee to a neighboring country, the king and a small number of guards chose to intentionally attract the enemies’ attention.

“Gale, you must flee!”

“But, Father, I can fight too!” the young prince pleaded with his father atop the castle walls beneath the starlight as the king prepared to depart for battle—one from which he would never return. The Felvolk army was already in sight.

The king looked at his brave son, spear in hand, and shook his head.

“This country is doomed,” the king explained. “But our people will live on. You must survive and protect them.”

“Father!”

“Take him away!”

The nearby soldiers did as ordered, dragging Gale away, passing by his mother.

“Gale, my dear son, you have to live,” his mother said with a smile before moving to stand with the king. She was a Spellcaster, highly skilled with wind magic.

“Father! Mother!” the prince screamed, but his cries failed to reach his parents’ ears as he was escorted out of the castle.

Gale did not clearly remember what happened afterwards, except that he suppressed his anger and his frustration as he flew through the night sky, determined to protect his people. However, the sound of an explosion suddenly rang out, and in the very same moment, the birdman in front of him fell down into the forest below. Unable to process the situation, he could do nothing but watch as his comrades fell, one by one—each time accompanied by the same booming sound.

“Prince Gale!” he heard a soldier scream as he rushed to his aid, but in the next moment Gale found himself falling.

The prince lost consciousness for a brief moment as he landed, but he quickly roused himself. He had made it through with only a few scratches thanks to the trees breaking his fall.

Upon hearing the sound of groaning, Gale took a look around—only to be struck speechless with shock. A number of his fellow birdmen were lying on the ground, writhing in pain. The very soldier who had tried to protect him was there as well, and Gale quickly ran over to him.

“Are you all right?!” Gale desperately asked as he helped the soldier up.

“Prince Gale...” the soldier moaned. “Please, leave me behind and flee...”

“I can’t—!”

“They got my wings...” The soldier interrupted Gale, showing him his back. “I can’t run anymore.”

The soldier’s wings looked as though they had been mercilessly torn to shreds by wild beasts. And he was not the only one—every birdman Gale could see had suffered similar injuries.

A birdman losing their wings was a death sentence. With medical care, they might be able to fly again one day, but there was no time for that now.

In an attempt to at least flee on foot, Gale forced the soldier to his feet and started to walk, but then a noise from a nearby bush interrupted them.

“Hey, I found them! Hmph, not a woman in sight.”

“There are uninjured young men, though.”

Gale turned his gaze toward the voices to find two soldiers. As they had no wings, it was clear that they belonged to the Felvolk army. They both held some kind of tube.

“Look, there’s one up there too!” one of the men said as he directed the tube toward the sky.

The next moment, there was another exploding sound, followed by a painful scream.

“Hey, that sounded like a woman!” The man grinned.

That’s when Gale finally understood what had happened. The enemy soldiers had used this cylindrical tool to shoot them down from the sky. His body burned hot with rage at the realization. The Felvolk soldiers, though, took no notice of him, continuing to talk merrily amongst themselves as if they were on a hunting excursion.

“If only this magical weapon wasn’t so damn hard to use. And there’s a limit to how many times you can use it.”

“What do you expect? It’s still a prototype. This is the first time it’s being used in real combat.”

“Well, at least the limited power makes it easy to capture those birds alive.”

“Right? That reminds me, did you see that new weapon they tested on the castle? Sent the whole castle flying. All the birds got blown to pieces too.”

The two Felvolk soldiers’ laughter echoed through the forest.

Hearing their discussion, Gale saw red. Ignoring the Kilvy soldier trying to stop him, he leaped straight for the two soldiers. Due to his lack of composure, Gale’s attack only turned into an awkward struggle with one of the soldiers; the other soldier quickly stepped in to subdue him. Before long they had pinned Gale to the ground, holding down his wings with their boots and making it impossible for him to move.

“Ugh. Hey, let’s just kill this one,” one of the men suggested.

“No, hold on. The order’s to capture anyone we might have a use for. Besides, the cockier someone is, the more fun it is to break their spirit, don’t you think?” the other soldier sneered.

“No, stop! Let him go!” a Kilvy soldier screamed, but the Felvolk soldiers just gave him a quick glance.

“What do you want to do with that thing?”

“He’s not a woman, and he’s injured too. He’s useless.” The soldier then picked up an object that had been hanging from his hip—a smaller tube than the weapon he’d used earlier. Unlike the other tube, this one had a grip, which the soldier held as he pointed the device toward the Kilvy soldier.

There was a quiet sound of something rupturing, followed by an explosion and the thud of someone falling. Still on the ground, Gale turned his head toward his fellow birdman and instantly froze. The soldier that had tried to protect Gale was lying motionless on the ground, the upper half of his body scorched.

Gale screamed.

“Be quiet, would you? Hey, switch bullets and put him to sleep.”

After that, Gale remembered nothing else.

When he next woke up, Gale found himself inside a cell. As he sat up, his limbs and wings felt heavier than usual. He looked down to see his hands and feet chained, and looking behind him, his wings had been weighed down with metal weights. The weights must have also blocked any magic, as he found himself unable to cast even a single spell.

“Prince Gale, are you all right?” someone asked. Gale turned his gaze toward the voice to find a soldier he had sparred with regularly since he was a young boy.

“Where are we?” Gale asked.

“We appear to be in a Felvolk fort near the border. Everyone who was captured was brought here.”

“Where...are my father and mother?”

The soldier answered Gale with no words—only a pained expression. Gale fell likewise silent. He had known the answer already—but even so, he had to ask.

“How many people were captured? Do you know if anyone managed to escape?” Gale asked.

“I’m not sure how many escaped. However, they killed or captured a significant number of people... All because of that magical cylinder of theirs...!”

Hearing this, Gale went over what had happened again in his head. The Felvolk soldiers had used a tube-shaped magical item, which they’d referred to as a weapon.

“Because of that thing, our army was almost completely wiped out... Just what was—” the soldier said, but he was cut off by the sound of heavy footsteps and lowered his voice. “Prince Gale, whatever you do, you mustn’t let them know about your lineage—or your ability!”

Gale nodded in response to the man’s whisper. In addition to his royal blood, Gale also possessed a special ability. It was a hereditary trait, but it very rarely manifested; Gale was the first member of his family to display this ability in a number of generations. There was no telling what Felvolk might do with him if they found out about his power.

The Felvolk soldiers who had approached them let Gale out of his cell and brought him to an open area in the middle of the fort. Other birdmen, all of them prisoners, had been gathered alongside him, and their eyes were fixed on the platform in front of them. The man atop the platform must have been the person in charge of the fort, as he was dressed in clothes noticeably more expensive than the other soldiers.

“Your pitiful country is now Felvolk territory!” the man roared.

The man’s declaration caused a stir among the birdmen as they all shot him menacing glares, but they were unable to move with the Felvolk soldiers all pointing their spears at them.

“I shall give those here three choices: to swear fealty to our country and become citizens, to become slaves...or death!”

Angry roars and screams could be heard from the crowd, but the man on the platform paid them no heed.

“If you become citizens of Felvolk, I shall ensure your safety. However, you will have to pay a regular tax to the state,” the man said as he detailed the amount they would have to pay—a sum far beyond the means of anyone listening. It was effectively a choice between slavery and death.

“Kill me...” someone grumbled, and the utterance spurred the others to start shouting.

“We are the proud and noble people of Kilvy, the rulers of the sky!”

“We will never succumb to barbarians!”

“We’d rather die than become slaves to the likes of you!”

Their roars filled the area. The man on the platform, though—having seemingly expected this response—gave one of his men a signal. In response, his subordinate walked up onto the platform—with a white-winged girl in tow. She was shaking, her hands and wings bound with chains.

“Very well. I will do as you wish,” the man on the platform spoke as he unsheathed his sword.

The birdmen immediately fell quiet. The man’s sword glistened in the light as he brought it down upon the girl. She shrieked, and white feathers danced in the air—the man had mercilessly cut through one of her wings.

“Why the long faces? You were chirping so happily just a moment ago. You’re choosing death, aren’t you?” the man said, raising the corners of his mouth into a malicious sneer.

No one could even react. The girl fell down onto the floor, pale-faced, and started trembling. The sword had only grazed her wing, and had not yet touched any flesh or bone. With time the feathers would grow back, and she would likely be able to fly again.

“H-Help...” Gale heard the girl’s trembling voice—as must have every birdman present. But still, no one could bring themselves to move.

“Hmph, well... Aren’t you a noisy little bird,” the man said as he once again raised his sword.

You must survive and protect them. His father’s words echoed in Gale’s head.

“Stop!” Gale’s scream rang out in the silent courtyard. The man slowly lowered his weapon.

“Are you trying to tell me what to do? Who do you think you are?” the man scoffed, but Gale stepped closer.

The other birdmen tried to stop Gale as he kept advancing toward the man, but Gale forced his way through the crowd.

“I am the king’s son,” Gale said, looking up at the man, who raised an eyebrow as he waited for Gale to continue. “I’ll become your slave, if you do not kill my people.”

“Please stop!”

“You mustn’t plead for your life with these barbarians!”

“Are you trying to disgrace His Majesty’s name, after he fought so valiantly?!”

But despite his people’s pleading, Gale continued to stare at his captor.

“Is that any way for a slave to talk to a human?” the man said, descending from the platform and closing the distance between himself and Gale.

Gale remained quiet for a few moments before kneeling down in front of the man.

“I want you to spare my people,” Gale said, bowing his head.

The very next moment, Gale felt a sharp pain across his face, and he was thrown to the ground. The man had kicked him in the face with his boots. The distressed shouts of the birdmen echoed through the court.

“You ‘want’ me to spare them? Work on your language!” the man growled angrily, giving Gale another kick to the stomach. “This country lost, you see! You lost!”

The man’s boots sank into Gale’s stomach again, and then again.

“Stop it!” a birdman shouted, trying to run up and protect Gale from the man’s assault.

“Don’t!” Gale shouted to keep the birdman away, before sitting back up and coughing. Then he went down on his knees again. “Please, spare my people’s lives.”

As Gale bowed deeply and made his plea, he felt another blow. The man had planted his foot on Gale’s shoulder.

“And? What are you going to do in return?” the man asked mockingly.

“Please...”

Gale paused and closed his eyes. He thought back to his father and mother, his beautiful home country, and the people he held so dear. All of that was gone now—except his people. They were all he had left

For them... Gale made up his mind.

“Please make me a slave.”

The man gave a satisfied sneer in response.

“You there—take this one away. Get a Spellcaster to engrave a Brand of Servitude on him.”

Two soldiers forced him to his feet and began to drag him away. As Gale was being carried off, the man whispered into his ear.

“What a waste of a good opportunity to slaughter them all... Well, their lives are in your hands now.”

Gale responded with silence.

After that, a Brand of Servitude was seared into Gale’s chest with a pain like red-hot iron, and he became a battle slave.

For a number of years after that, Gale continued to fight obediently as a battle slave—but no matter how obedient he was, if he ever opened his mouth, he was hit. If someone didn’t like his attitude, he was kicked. And if someone didn’t like his look, he was whipped. Some people would abuse him for no reason other than to pass the time.

However, Gale would never show any signs of resistance; he would willingly fight on the front lines even in the most dangerous of battles, all for the sake of what remained of his people. As long as he risked his own life, he was protecting theirs. With time, the once-expressive young prince grew up to be an expressionless and stoic man.

At one point, he heard the news that some beastman countries in the south had formed an alliance and founded a nation known as the Lustian Confederation. It was only much later that Gale would learn that the invasion of Kilvy had sparked the establishment of the alliance in the first place.

Along with founding the Confederation, Lustia also called for the liberation of all enslaved beastmen. Felvolk had responded by treating its slaves even harsher. Any hint of defiance would be punished by death using the Brand of Servitude. So no matter what kind of treatment he suffered, Gale endured in silence.

A decade passed. Gale was eventually assigned to a battle slave unit of the national armed forces stationed in the capital of Felvolk. There, he was reunited with the soldier who had given him that warning so many years ago.

“Prince Gale, I’m so glad to see that you’re safe...” the soldier said with tears in his eyes, while Gale nodded with a blank expression. Seeing how the little prince had changed, the man began to weep.

“And the others...?” Gale asked, only to be met with a reply that would plunge him into the depths of despair.

After he had left that court, half of birdmen that remained had chosen death, and the other half slavery—and almost all of those who had become slaves had been sent to their deaths in battle or sold off, if they were women. The soldier himself had only been reunited with surviving birdmen a handful of times.

Gale was dumbfounded. Now he was forced to question why he had patiently endured his suffering all this time. For a split second he considered death, but the magic of the Brand of Servitude would even prevent him from taking his own life.

“Prince Gale, please live.” The soldier spoke as though he had read Gale’s mind. “Please live.”

Gale nodded feebly in response to the soldier’s insistence.

A few months later, that soldier died protecting Gale in battle.

Years passed, and Gale continued to stand on the battlefield as a slave, narrowly escaping the jaws of death. With his excellent fighting skills and sturdy physique, coupled with his complete obedience, he eventually became captain of the battle slave unit. Felvolk continued to use him as they pleased. Even if it was sometimes spoken in mockery, his overwhelming talent on the battlefield earned him the nickname of the Blue Tempest—the wind that brings death.

Gale had lived on, just as his father and mother had asked him—just as that soldier had asked him. He lived and lived, simply waiting for the day he would finally die.

During one battle, the slave unit had been sent to the front lines, and the commander’s ineptitude had cost the lives of over half the unit. Gale, however, still survived.

“Sheesh, why do we have to put up with this?” a snakeman—Misthor—grumbled. As a snakeman, his white skin was covered with light purple scales here and there, and he was tall and lean. After Gale, he had served in this unit the longest, and like Gale, Felvolk had invaded his country and forced him into slavery.

Unlike Gale and the other slaves, who only grew more and more emotionless as time passed, Misthor would both laugh and complain. This earned him a great deal of ire, but out of all beastmen, snakemen were some of the most gifted Spellcasters. Misthor could also use a bit of Divine Magic, so the higher-ups would look the other way—though he was still mercilessly thrown into battle like every other slave.

“We only lost because of that incompetent commander. Do they realize how many of our men died?!”

“Be quiet,” Gale warned him, and Misthor responded with an annoyed glare.

“Are you seriously all right with this, Captain?! First that halfwit goes off on us like there’s no tomorrow, and now we’re getting some kid from a disgraced house—and she’s a woman, too! Screw dying under the command of someone like that!”

Gale sighed and kept quiet—all the while thinking that the next battle could be his last.

But the girl that joined them defied not only Gale’s expectations, but those of everyone in the slave unit. She did not so much as flinch when threatened by a tigerman, and as she bathed in the murderous glares of the battle slaves, she gave them only two orders: to always follow her command and to never give up on living.

You must survive and protect them.

Gale, my dear son, you have to live.

Prince Gale, please live.

The wishes of the people he had lost echoed in his mind.

The new tactician completely changed the slave unit. They began to win battle after battle; soldiers returning from the field alive became the norm, and the number of slaves who suffered injuries decreased dramatically. She would meet the ridiculous demands of the army leadership, humming cheerfully all the while, and any reward she received was spent on supplies and better living conditions for the slave unit. In this way, she steadily earned their trust.

There was one thing Gale couldn’t get off his mind, though. The tactician was always smiling—yet every now and then, her expression would seem somehow sad. In fact, he had not been able to get her—Alterisse—out of his head ever since they first met.

Three years had passed since the new tactician was assigned to the slave unit.

“Hey, Captain. You’ve got a crush on the commander, haven’t you?” Misthor said to Gale as he was healing the birdman with his magic.

“What...?” Gale said, visibly bewildered by the sudden suggestion, for a change.

Only a moment ago, Gale had shielded Alterisse from being verbally abused by two men—though all he had really done was endure their blows. Alterisse was the one who had chased them off in the end.

Alterisse had been unusually upset when she dragged Gale to see Misthor and asked the snakeman to heal him.

“What? You seriously haven’t realized? When literally everyone else in the unit has?” Misthor asked incredulously.

Gale looked around to find the other soldiers smirking as they listened in on the conversation, and Gale returned their gazes with a confused look.

“C’mon, Captain. You’re always staring at her, and you told her about that ability that you kept secret even from us. Are you seriously not aware of your own feelings?”

Gale had told Alterisse about his own special talent—telescopic sight—in an attempt to help her with a reconnaissance mission that she had been struggling with. The moment she learned about it, she issued a gag order within the unit. If information about his unusual skill leaked out, Gale would most likely have been removed from the slave unit and forced to undergo human experimentation. Slaves had no rights in this country.

The members of the slave unit still talked about the fierce manner in which she had issued this absolute order, smiling all the while.

“The commander seems pretty dense when it comes to romance too...” Misthor continued. “This battle is gonna make our actual fights look easy by comparison.”

Not even Misthor, though, had imagined that it would take another three years for the pair to finally get together.

They were surrounded by a sea of flames.

“Captain, take the commander and flee!” Misthor shouted as he struck down the approaching enemies with flashes of lightning. “They tricked us! We’ve got no chance! But with your wings, you can at least save the commander!”

“Misthor?!” Alterisse shrieked. Her face, streaked with tears and soot, bore no trace of her usual smile.

“We are the property of our commander! As long as you’re with him, his Brand of Servitude won’t activate!”

The Brands of Servitude put the life of a slave directly into their owner’s hands. For the slave units in the Felvolk army, that ownership belonged to each unit’s commander. Even if one of them were to flee right now, the state could not take their life using their Brand of Servitude.

“But... But...! What about all of you?!”

“All of us were doomed to fall on the battlefield anyway. Personally, I’d rather die saving you and the captain!”

Their comrades shouted in agreement with Misthor as they fended off their foes.

“None of those magical weapons the captain hates were supposed to be used in this battle! Even if they did bring a few guns, they can’t have that many! The captain should be able to flee using his wings!”

“Guns” were the cylindrical devices that had destroyed Gale’s country—magical weapons that had been replicated from ancient relics. They were not magical devices that assisted in the casting of spells, nor were they magical items that could be used by simply imbuing them with Magic. Instead, formulas were engraved on bullets enchanted with Magic; to activate the spell, these bullets were loaded into the cylindrical device and fired. However, they required skill to wield, and manufacturing the magical bullets and the firing mechanism was very costly.

More effective formulas and more powerful Magic made these “guns” much more lethal, but it was hard to get it just right, and they would sometimes misfire and injure allies too. This had resulted in budget cuts, and barely any research on them had been done over the past fifty years. Many suggested that it was simpler to just use ordinary magic instead. Even so, their range and ability to fire instantly made guns a significant threat to birdmen.

“Captain, hurry! Keep on living!” Misthor shouted.

Gale made up his mind. He picked up Alterisse and spread his wings.

“Gale! I...”

Without waiting for Alterisse to complete her sentence, Gale took to the sky. He heard a gunshot and felt a pain in his wings, but it was not enough to impede his flight.

“Alte, hold on tight,” Gale whispered to the one he loved as she struggled in his arms, and he raced across the night sky.

“Gale, are you all right?”

The worried voice brought Ao back to the present.

“Oh... I...was just just thinking about the past,” Ao replied.

Kurenai made a pained expression, realizing that Ao must have been remembering that fateful day.

“If only I had...” Kurenai said regretfully, but before she could finish Ao let out a sigh and embraced her. “G-Gale?!”

“It was unavoidable,” Ao whispered into Kurenai’s ear.

Kurenai was visibly uneasy, worrying about drawing the attention of the other passengers.

“They all wanted you to survive,” Ao continued. “That’s what they wished for.”

“But...”

“I’ll say it as many times as I need to. They didn’t die in vain. They protected us. I wanted to protect you too.” Ao brought his mouth to Kurenai’s ear and whispered so only she could hear. “And I want to continue to protect you... Forever...”

“Gale, you’ve become quite talkative ever since we left the kingdom,” Kurenai pouted, her ears red from embarrassment.

“Yeah. I’m taking Our Liege’s words to heart.”

His young master, wise beyond his years, had told him that the only way to convey your feelings is to put them into words. Ao was no longer a slave. No one had the right to beat him. He no longer needed to suppress his emotions.

Suddenly, Gale caught a sound that was definitely distinct from the sea breeze. He released Kurenai and looked out toward a specific point far out at sea.

“Gale?” Kurenai asked.

“I heard a scream.”

Birdmen had better hearing than humans—though the far more specialized rabbitmen still surpassed them.

Ao used his telescopic sight to locate the source of the scream.

“A ship is being attacked by monsters,” he explained.

Kurenai squinted in the direction Ao was looking and noticed a black shadow, so far away it was barely the size of her fingertip.

“Gale, can you make it there?”

“On it.”

“I’ll go inform the ship’s captain.”

“Right. I’ll take care of it in the meantime.”

Ao spread his wings and took flight, soaring high up into the air. He then sped straight for the ship in distress.

“Help!”

“Stay away!”

The screams of the crew members rose up from the ship. Around twenty monsters, each twice the size of a human, were swarming around the vessel. These creatures had the body of a lion but the limbs and head of a bird, with wings on their backs. All of these monsters were striking at the crew with their sharp beaks and claws.

Despite their large size, the creatures were extremely agile. Any time one of the sailors tried to fight one the monsters off, it would flee up into the sky as another monster attacked them from behind. The crew members’ attempts at countering the monsters were also not exactly organized.

Ao grabbed the foldable rod attached to his hip and extended it with one swing. Then he surrounded himself with Wind Magic as he quickly descended upon one of the creatures. Before the monster had a chance to react, he sliced straight through its wings. The monster let out a shriek as it fell from the sky, robbed of its ability to fly, and sank into the sea.

Hearing the beast’s dying shriek, the other monsters quickly abandoned the crew in favor of focusing their attacks on Ao. They communicated with a series of cries before surrounding him—obviously, they had decided to prioritize taking down a powerful threat that had suddenly appeared over the easy prey on the ship.

Any normal person would have been paralyzed with fear, but Ao simply readied his weapon, as expressionless as ever. Then one of the monsters dived at him from behind, signaling the start of the battle.

Ao evaded the creature’s claws with a somersault and then immediately sliced through its wings. Defeated, the monster plummeted into the sea. Another monster launched itself at him, but he again evaded the attack by a hair’s breadth, destroyed its wings as it passed by, and sent it spiraling into the ocean below. Ao did not have to kill them himself—for a creature that lives in the sky, losing its wings was a death sentence.

After reducing their numbers to roughly half, Ao finally sent the largest monster down to its watery grave. The other creatures immediately fled, screeching as they went; the larger beast he had just defeated must have been the leader of the pack.

Ao watched the monsters flee before descending onto the deck of the ship below, where the captain rushed toward him.

“Th-Thank you so much for saving us!” the captain exclaimed.

“Some of your men must be wounded. A ship is coming to help. Is this a merchant vessel?”

“Y-Yes! We are just returning home after stocking up in Lustia!”

Hearing this, Ao observed the captain. He was a rather well-dressed man, but he was avoiding Ao’s gaze. Looking around the ship, Ao noticed that the other crew members on deck were dressed more like ruffians, and they also seemed to be acting a bit suspicious. In addition, the ship itself seemed rather run down for a merchant vessel that traded with the confederation. Lustia only traded with well-respected—and well-connected—merchants. It seemed unlikely that such a ragtag group with such a ramshackle ship would meet Lustia’s standards. Ao gave the captain a suspicious look as he waited for the ship carrying Kurenai to arrive.

About ten minutes later, the merchant ship Kurenai was riding was pulled up alongside the ship that had recently been under attack. Doctors boarded the ship with medical supplies, accompanied by Kurenai herself, who immediately ran to Ao’s side.

“Gale! Are you okay?” Kurenai asked.

“I’m fine,” Ao replied with a nod. “Alte, this ship claims to be a merchant vessel that trades with the Confederation.”

Kurenai immediately understood the meaning behind his words.

“It seems we’re in luck!” she responded with a bright smile.

Kurenai approached the ship’s captain, who was currently receiving treatment for his wounds.

“I’m so sorry about this accident. It must have been an awful experience,” Kurenai said, adopting a friendly tone.

“No, no—thanks to the generous help of the man over there, we didn’t suffer any casualties,” the captain replied, grinning at the appearance of such a beautiful woman. “Our cargo is safe too. The goddess of the sea must have protected us.”

The goddess of the sea guarded the ocean’s bounty and ensured the safety of sailors. Many seafarers would worship statues of the goddess, or decorate their ships with a figurehead of her.

“Yes, indeed. By the way, I hear you do trade with the Confederation,” Kurenai noted. “What kind of cargo do you carry?”

The captain’s startled look did not escape Kurenai.

“H-Handicrafts and the like...” the captain answered hesitantly.

“My! That sounds absolutely delightful. I would love to have a look myself.”

“That’s...”

The captain nervously glanced to and fro.

“It seems your ‘cargo’ is something that you don’t want us to see...” Kurenai noted. “Gale.”

The moment Kurenai said his name, Ao used his investigation magic on the entire ship. He easily located the areas within the ship’s hold where this “cargo” was located.

“It’s below deck, Alte.”

The captain trembled at Ao’s low, rage-filled voice.

A few minutes later, beastman women and children who had been bound with chains were lined up on deck. Most of them were beastmen with little fighting prowess, like birdmen, rabbitmen, catmen, and ratmen. Grown men might have been able to fight the slavers off, but these were all women and children who would have been easy to capture with the aid of magic or drugs.

The captive beastmen were weakened, but they did not seem on the verge of death, at least. Wrapped in blankets, the beastmen were moved to the merchant ship with help from the ship’s crew. The crew of the unfortunate merchant vessel—or rather, the slavers’ ship disguised as a merchant vessel—were bound with rope.

“Damn it all... If only those monsters hadn’t attacked...” the captain spat.

Beastmen were prized both for their labor and their exotic looks. Thus there were those who would kidnap them, engrave them with Brands of Servitude, and sell them as slaves. Despite the danger, the return on investment was large, and as a result this form of trafficking showed no signs of going away.

There was the sound of something cutting through the air, and Kurenai turned to see Ao holding his rod against the captain’s nose.

“Quiet. Do you want me to throw you into the sea like I did those monsters?” Ao threatened.

The captain grew quiet. Kurenai turned to Ao, still wearing her smiling mask.

“It seems the goddess of the sea favored the captured beastmen instead. How unfortunate,” she said, before turning around. As she did, Ao withdrew his rod.

Kurenai had already talked things over with the captain of the vessel they were traveling on—they decided they would be taking both the beastmen and the slavers back to Lustia. The slavers would likely face capital punishment—the Lustian Confederation outlawed both slavery itself and the trafficking of beastmen.

Neither Kurenai nor Ao were especially concerned about the fate of the slavers; however, the fact that there was a supply meant that there was also a demand. Without buyers, there would be no sellers.

“It’s so tragic...” Kurenai muttered, and Ao nodded silently.

Slaves had everything stolen from them—their country, their family, the people they loved, their dignity, their pride, their emotions—and ultimately their lives.

“We need to change all of this,” Kurenai declared. She wanted to change this unfair world, just like their master wanted.

Their master had considered not only his own country, but everything beyond his borders too—even if it was still too early to do much. Supporting him in his goals was what Kurenai and Ao wished to spend their lives doing.

“But I must say, we really are in luck. The goddess of the sea truly is on our side,” Kurenai noted with a cheerful chuckle, and Ao gave her a quizzical look from atop the ramp connecting the two boats.

“Because we were able to save the beastmen?”

“That’s not all.”

Kurenai stepped aboard the merchant ship and spun around to face Ao, her now-short hair fluttering as she did.

“By saving them, we’re in a better position to negotiate,” Kurenai explained. They would at the very least be able to meet with someone notable. That would make it easier for them to do their work as emissaries from Gracis.

Ao then realized something. When he had first explained the situation to Kurenai, she had said “we’re in luck.” She must have already predicted how the events would unfold back then—including what would happen once they arrived in the confederation. She seemed to possess not only tactical skill and quick wits, but command over luck itself.

“Someone who even has luck on her side...” Ao mumbled. “What a terrifying tactician.”

“That’s not quite accurate,” Kurenai replied with a bright smile. “Luck’s really siding with our liege, Herscherik.”

Herscherik was the one who had managed to stop her when she was planning to die, and had gotten Ao to open up despite his distrust of humans. Perhaps these were all mere coincidences—but if enough coincidences add up, they become inevitabilities. Herscherik was the one who had brought all of this about. At the same time, however, those who attract great fortune are also doomed to attract misfortune—just like the figures that history books referred to as heroes.

Kurenai and Ao both needed to become someone worthy of standing at a hero’s side.

“We have to make sure to keep up with Our Liege. Right, Gale?”

“I agree, Alte.”

Kurenai gave him a genuine smile from the bottom of her heart, and Ao responded with a smile of his own.

The Blue Tempest once again became a symbol of death in Felvolk. As he served under the Hero of Light, though, he had also become a symbol of love that transcended race. Despite their differences of birth, he remained by the side of his master, the Hero of Light, and his wife, the Smiling Crimson Tactician. Having a longer lifespan than humans, he continued to serve as a mediator between different peoples even after his master, wife, and comrades had all passed away. He never stopped loving the Smiling Crimson Tactician, even after her death. Tales of his love, featuring both a grain of truth and all kinds of embellishments, continued to be passed down through generations to come.

The Blue Tempest and the Smiling Crimson Tactician — Fin