Chapter 83 - Half Human, Half Horse

Perched on the palanquin, the king was an old man who, just as Shan had heard, resembled Conrad, with small, narrow eyes and a prominent nose. Shan had heard he was only about fifty, but his white hair and age spots made him look far older. His darkened complexion and limp body made his poor health apparent at a glance. Yet his mind seemed clear: his darting eyes were bright with intelligence and cunning.

Giselle III gazed down at his children with a haggard face, coughed once, and addressed his eldest son first.

"Conrad."

"Yes, Father."

"Have you enjoyed molding my country to your liking?"

Conrad fell silent for a moment at the sharp accusation, so at odds with the king's feeble tone, before replying.

"As your eldest son, I merely took upon myself the duties you ought to have performed."

"Oh? So it was my duty to drive every follower of the New Faith and every foreigner out of the kingdom, and trample the magical traditions we have built over hundreds of years?"

"Indeed. A king rules his country according to the Goddess's will. It is his role to correct misguided beliefs."

"You fool."

The king clicked his tongue.

"Do you think the kings supported the New Faith when the faith of the Goddess split five hundred years ago simply because they wanted several wives? Followers of the Old Faith obey the Holy See, but followers of the New Faith obey their king! A king should be finding every possible way to suppress the Old Faith's influence. And unlike miracles, which have stood still for a thousand years, magic grows more powerful through research. Can you not look to the future?"

"His Holiness the Pope is the consort of the Goddess and her representative, who conveys her will. I believe all the nations of the Alliance should unite around the Holy See."

"And that is why I did not make you my heir."

Calling him an idiot too steeped in Old Faith morality to see sense, the king shook his head and turned to Sherin. At first glance, father and daughter looked nothing alike, yet the expressions in their eyes were chillingly similar.

"My daughter, you still hate me. I cannot fathom why. I thought I had done quite enough for you, in my own way."

"Ask your conscience, Father. Though I doubt you have one."

Sherin did not explain at length why she hated the king. To do so would expose not only his many shameful secrets but her own greatest secret as well. In truth, she would not have bothered even otherwise. Surely not knowing why he was hated would irritate him a little more than knowing.

"How could a king govern a country if he burdened himself with something so useless?"

Contrary to her hopes, however, Giselle III merely snorted rather than growing irritated, blithely declaring that he had thrown his conscience away. Not a trace of shame crossed his face.

"Yes, I have heard some entertaining tales about you, too. You seem ready to fight the entire world. Are you confident? If you become king and start distributing magical devices in earnest, every Old Faith nation will become your enemy."

"If it must be done, then I will do it."

Whatever he might say, Sherin had never regretted what she had done. Was the black legion arrayed behind her not the very fruit of all her efforts?

"Good grief. One of you is impossibly rigid, and the other has thrown religion and social order to the dogs... Neither you nor Conrad has any sense of moderation! If I had a child somewhere between the two of you, I could entrust the throne to them without a worry."

"Surely you don't think Elvin is the answer?"

"Of course not. This one's every bit as much a fool. Still, he at least restored my ability to speak when I was dying, so I am lending him my support."

"... Father!"

Behind him, Elvin cried out in dismay. His lips moved as though he wished to say more, but no words came. That alone was enough to suggest which of the two held the upper hand.

Sherin gave him a contemptuous look, then turned back to the king.

"Let's get to the point. Why did you summon us? Surely you didn't actually expect us to disband our armies. If you have nothing else to say, I will be going."

"I haven't seen my children in so long... Very well, enough nonsense. I merely summoned you to offer some encouragement."

Sherin raised her eyes slightly at the unexpected words.

"Encouragement?"

"Whoever wins this struggle, if they stand as the sole victor, I shall acknowledge them as my heir and step down. I have been old and ill for some time now. Pendia would be better served by a younger, stronger king."

"You don't seem concerned that fighting among ourselves will weaken us."

"It is a necessary sacrifice. Besides, you would hardly stop fighting merely because I told you to."

The king grinned and told them to compete with all their might and win. Conrad, who had been listening quietly, nodded and bowed his head solemnly.

"I shall carry on your will, Father, and make Pendia the most devout and mighty nation in the Arman Alliance. I swear it!"

"Good. I look forward to it."

The warmth between them was utterly at odds with the king's scolding just moments before. Their resemblance made the scene all the more convincing. Sherin, who had stood watching silently, turned her head sharply and announced,

"Then, since we're finished here, I'll be leaving."

"Such impatience! Wait a moment. I have one last thing to say."

Having stopped Sherin, the king unexpectedly singled out Shan, who stood attending her from just behind.

"You there, Altoan knight!"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Whether Sherin wins or loses, come and see me if you have the chance. Whatever you might imagine, I shall show you something far more extraordinary."

"Come."

Just as Shan was about to answer, Sherin spoke and strode away. Shan, Ravana, and Yurk had to hurry after her without even offering the king the customary courtesies. Conrad and his three knights likewise hastened after Sherin before they could find themselves surrounded by the enemy.

As they returned to their lines, Elvin's men were clearing the meeting site, and the king and prince were withdrawing as well. After parting ways with Conrad and heading toward the left wing, Sherin spoke to Shan in a near whisper.

"Something's wrong."

"In what way?"

"The father I know would never say such a thing. That incarnation of lust for power, relinquishing his throne and retiring?"

"Do you think it was an empty promise?"

"Even that would be strange. Now that he has said it in front of everyone, the victor of this civil war has the right to formally demand his abdication. If he wanted to reestablish his authority, he could simply have supported Elvin."

Unable to fathom what he was thinking, Sherin pressed her thumb against her temple. A moment later, she recalled her original purpose in going to see him.

"And as I expected, Father's illness hasn't been cured completely. It has merely improved. Though even that is nothing short of a miracle."

"Do you think they used some mystery of the southern continent after all?"

"Probably. I didn't sense the distinctive presence of a sacred object. And... No, I'd better wait until I'm more certain before discussing that. Let's focus on what we need to do now."

"Yes, Your Highness."

They had already reached headquarters in the center of their formation. After leaving Sherin in Roden's care, Shan took Ravana and Yurk toward the front. As though waiting for that moment, great drums began booming from Conrad's lines. They heralded war.

* * *

"All troops, advance in step."

At that quiet command, the elite soldiers of Pales marched across the plain in a crisp, steady rhythm. None moved with more mechanical precision than those in the center of the infantry ranks: the Altoan mercenary company, its members varied in appearance. Driven out by Conrad's expulsion order roughly two years earlier and saved by Princess Sherin's mercy, harsh training and several battles had made them elite soldiers the equal of any in Pendia.

Above all, the hydra-scale armor and helmets they wore gave them courage. Their magical armor was lighter than metal, yet impossible to pierce without a knight's spirit-infused thrust. The confidence that knowledge inspired was immense. And few things were harder to break through than heavy infantry with absolute faith in their armor.

"They're coming."

As someone murmured those words, the enemy came into view in the distance.

The infamous elephant corps was nowhere to be seen, perhaps deployed in the center or on the right. Instead, a force of some three hundred cavalry rode out to meet them. They wore only light leather armor, nothing resembling plate, and their horses had no barding. In their hands were short bows adapted for mounted archery.

Shan's eyes widened as he realized who they were.

"Half-horse archers... Horse archers! Shields ready!"

As his shout spread, the heavy infantry tightened their grips on their shields. At the same time, the enemy riders charging fiercely toward them turned right in unison at a distance of roughly a hundred meters and loosed their arrows. Though hundreds fired, barely a second separated the first shot from the last—a barrage compressed into the tightest possible span.

"Gah!"

"Ngh...!"

Hundreds of arrows swept over the infantry at the front, rattling like a rain of metal.

Fortunately, casualties were few. They had been prepared, and most troops at the front were well armored. Only Viscount Treva's comparatively poorly equipped soldiers and Prince Conrad's conscripts marching beside them suffered injuries or deaths.

'So these are the half-horse archers...’

Shan marveled at the skill the mounted archers had just displayed.

Even a few dozen cavalry maneuvering together would normally become entangled and collide, causing casualties. Yet these three hundred moved as one. They even shot while maneuvering without striking their own riders ahead or sending arrows wildly off target. Their skill and coordination were hard to believe even with his own eyes.

"The half-horse archers of Horace... They say their upper halves are archers and their lower halves horses..."

Apparently Shan was not alone in his impression. Beside him, Yurk muttered with an appalled expression.

While Shan considered telling him to stop saying things that lowered morale, a messenger hurried over and shouted,

"Orders from the acting commander! All troops are to disregard the horse archers' fire and advance! The Lord Guardian is requested to lead the knights in intercepting the enemy horse archers and disrupting their lines at his own discretion!"

Roden apparently judged it difficult to drive the horse archers away using the main force's archers alone. It was a reasonable assessment, given that archers were one of the Pales army's weaker arms. Unlike other soldiers, skilled bowmen could not be trained in a mere year or two.

With little occasion to use bows in daily life, whether for recreation or hunting monsters, only about a hundred of Pales's thousand soldiers were archers. Foot archers generally had superior firepower to mounted archers, but facing three times their number was another matter.

"Good. We're moving out. Everyone, rally!"

"Yeah!"

At Shan's command, the knights gathered with loud cries. With some left behind to guard Roden and Sherin, they numbered roughly seventy. The enemy outnumbered them more than four to one, but those were lightly equipped horse archers, while they were fully armored heavy cavalry. Once they closed, even five times their number would be easy prey.

"Let's go!"

"Raaaaah!"

"Follow Sir Shan!"

"For Princess Sherin!"

With Shan at their head, Pales's heavy cavalry charged out with a thunderous roar. The horse archers, who had been circling in search of vulnerable targets, promptly wheeled away and fled. Pursuing at the front, Shan realized they were not easily closing the gap. The enemy maintained a distance of about eighty meters, as though toying with his cavalry.

'As expected. With less weight to carry, they're faster.'

A knight's armor and his horse's barding weighed at least forty to fifty kilograms combined. That was effectively another person on the horse's back, so they were bound to lag behind. Moreover, while the half-horse archers' mounts were smaller than their warhorses, they had greater endurance. They were an entirely different breed from Arwin, but since the people of Horace had likewise bred them for battle, they too could be called Horace warhorses.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, the fleeing horse archers all turned their bodies and fired in unison. It was an advanced technique Shan himself had used before: twisting at the waist in the saddle to shoot behind. He doubted even ten people in Pendia could do it, yet the Horace riders performed it effortlessly.

"Ugh!"

"You bastards..."

Impressive as that archery was, mere arrows would hardly work against knights. Mounted archers' shots were weaker than those of ordinary bowmen to begin with, and every rider here was equipped with defensive magical devices made from magic stones. Even the squires, whose armor offered less protection, withstood the attack without serious trouble. Still, one or two fell out of the pursuit.

"Gah!"

A horse gave an anguished neigh and tumbled to the ground along with its rider's cry. The squire sprawled on the ground, then got up and saw an arrow lodged in one of his horse's legs.

No barding could protect legs that had to move so vigorously. Whether by chance or design, an arrow had pierced one squarely. Unable to rise, the fallen horse shed tears of pain.

"Damn it. I'm sorry..."

Clenching his teeth, the squire drew his sword and drove it into the horse's neck, ending its life.

Had they been near the main force, things might have been different, but they had already ridden hundreds of meters away. Bringing a priest over to heal it was impossible. Besides, there were not enough healing miracles even for the people who needed them.

Seeing this, Shan realized the half-horse archers were deliberately aiming at the horses' legs. Like Shan in the past, they excelled at robbing pursuing heavy cavalry of their mobility.

'So that's how it is...'

If this continued, they would only waste time and suffer mounting losses. Ravana, galloping beside him, seemed to have reached the same conclusion. Taking care not to bite her tongue, she shouted,

"Sir Shan! They'll keep shooting us at this rate! We must use the terrain to corner them instead of chasing blindly!"

Having seen half-horse archers during Libert's civil war, she immediately offered an excellent answer. The trouble was that the terrain was utterly unsuited to trapping them. Unlike the west, with its several hills, the east had only a shallow stream, clearly small enough for horses to gallop across. Nor was there a forest or marsh in sight... The enemy had plainly deployed their horse archers here for that very reason. They, too, would have racked their brains to win.

After thinking at length in a very brief instant, Shan laughed at the answer he had found. In the end, falling back on individual strength was so very like him.

"I'm going ahead! Everyone, follow!"

With that shout, he lightly kicked Arwin's flanks, signaling her to stop matching their pace and accelerate. As though she had been waiting for nothing else, the fierce Horace warhorse poured strength into her legs and began pulling away from the riders behind. Already tired from the gallop, the others could not keep up.

"D-damn—"

"Sir Shan!"

"It's dangerous alone!"

Just as they warned, the horse archers immediately concentrated their fire on Shan as he surged ahead alone. Most shots targeted the legs beneath Arwin's barding. Extraordinary as she was, a single arrow in the leg would still spell disaster. One hit would send her crashing down, and at this speed, there was a high chance her bones would shatter throughout her body.

In that moment of danger, he sharpened his attention as he always did, and time around him slowed. Within that world open to him alone, Shan tracked every incoming arrow and predicted its trajectory. There were roughly a hundred. More than eighty needed no deflection at all, nine required some attention, and three absolutely had to be knocked aside...

With a thought, Shan changed Heart Destroyer to a length of 3.5 meters and raised it precisely into their paths. Dozens of arrows struck the armor covering his body with a deafening clatter, but he moved his lance while completely ignoring every attack aimed at himself. His reflexes and concentration defied all reason.

"W-what!?"

"He's knocking aside arrows aimed at his horse's legs, not even himself...?"

As people so often did upon witnessing Shan's transcendent skill, even the supremely accomplished half-horse archers lost their composure before such overwhelming prowess. Ordinarily, horse archers were all but invincible unless countered by foot archers or trapped using the terrain. To them, a single knight closing on an outrageously fast warhorse to stop them was an absurdity.

But bewildered or not, they still had to repel the man closing on them. A moment later came a second volley. Shan continued ignoring the countless shots aimed at his body, deflecting only those flying toward Arwin's legs. Then an arrow sank squarely into his chest with a dull thud.

'What is this...?'

The armorer's workmanship was somewhat lacking, but his armor was still reinforced with an ogre's magic stone. To think it could be pierced so easily. A shot that powerful should have required a large longbow fired on foot and imbued with considerable spirit. Without the hydra-hide armor underneath, he probably would have suffered a mortal wound. Fortunately, it apparently had not penetrated that inner armor completely, for he felt no pain. Shan kept charging toward the horse archers.

The gap was now roughly twenty meters. Their horses were beginning to tire as well, and the distance dwindled rapidly.

"Tch! Fight with your swords!"

"Do you think half-horse archers can only shoot? How dare you charge us alone!"

Realizing they could no longer escape, the rearmost riders slowed, wheeled around, and drew the swords at their waists to meet him. There were about thirty of them. Their weapons were curved blades suited to fighting from horseback. Shan had rarely faced such weapons, but that made no particular difference to the fight.

Guiding Arwin deftly between the riders, Shan shortened Heart Destroyer and thrust again and again, precisely piercing vital points and killing his opponents.

THUNK. TH-THUNK. THUNK.

With brisk, almost rhythmic movements, the warriors who had ruled the grasslands toppled helplessly, spilling their blood across the field.

"W-what!?"

"What in the—"

It was natural for a knight in plate armor to overwhelm horse archers in close combat, but there were limits. They had all trained in swordsmanship, even if not as extensively as archery. How could he slaughter them as mercilessly as raw conscripts?

Of course, Shan did not need to deal with every enemy charging him. Though weariness had slowed them, the Pales cavalry had kept following him and finally caught up to the rear of the horse archers. Shan's advance and the havoc he wrought had slowed the enemy enough to let them close.

"Kill them all!"

With that savage cry, Ravana's Rabbit's Foot split a horse archer and his mount in two with a single blow. After all those lessons with the lance, did she still find her axe more familiar in a situation like this?

Other knights and squires poured in after her, disrupting the enemy's rear. Freed from having to divide his attention, Shan focused entirely ahead and continued tearing through the enemy ranks. As he slaughtered the horse archers, his armor drenched in blood, a sudden sense that something was wrong made him turn his gaze.

About fifty meters away, a horse archer rode at the very front. The middle-aged man, with long sideburns, fixed Shan with a piercing stare and drew his bow until its limbs formed a circle. Unlike the others' arrows, the one he had nocked bore magical patterns and an unusually colored head.

'It's him!'

Instinctively recognizing him as the man who had pierced his chest, Shan did not ignore the incoming arrow. Instead, he raised Heart Destroyer and struck it squarely with the shaft. Tremendous pressure drove into the wood.

"Ugh."

CRACK!

Astonishingly, the blackened ash shaft splintered, breaking the lance in two. The will imbued in the arrow to pierce everything had overwhelmed the will in the shaft to block it, warping reality.

It was generally far harder to imbue a projectile with spirit than a melee weapon, yet it had held such power. This shot was much stronger than the first. Had he ignored it as before, it would probably have pierced his helmet and his skull.

His renewed admiration lasted only a moment before he saw the archer sway and nearly fall from his horse, caught by a subordinate beside him. Apparently, the man had poured out every last ounce of strength in an attempt to finish Shan. Indeed, even if the arrow was a magical device, nothing else could explain that power. Exhaustion that severe would probably be difficult to recover from even with a blessing of vitality.

'Then I should return the favor.'

Shan placed the shaft-only half of his lance in its holder and hefted the half bearing the blade, testing its balance. Tossing it a few centimeters into the air and catching it once, then twice, was enough to find its center of gravity.

"Hah!"

The half-lance he hurled with all his strength swept across more than fifty meters in an instant—the result of his exceptional shoulder strength combined with perfect control of his body.

The man who had fired the magical arrow could not even resist the sudden counterattack. It pierced his side, and he pitched from his horse. It was a flawless mounted javelin throw.

As Shan inwardly congratulated himself, he noticed the half-horse archers beginning to stop. Until then, they had kept fleeing doggedly even with their pursuers snapping at their heels. Now they all stared at the man Shan had felled and shouted in horror.

"Captain!"

"The captain's down!"