Chapter 85 - Always Watch Your Back Around People

After their first bloody battle of killing and being killed, the recruits understood all too well what the veterans meant when they said your mind went blank.

The hellish din of shouts and screams drowned out even the voices of those standing beside them. All they could sense was the touch of comrades shoulder to shoulder with them and the enemies glaring directly ahead.

As they desperately shielded their faces and slashed and stabbed with swords and spears, arms and legs flew through the air like toys. The metallic reek of blood and the stench of filth spilling from torn intestines filled their nostrils.

War was an entirely different kind of fighting from the monster hunts they had known.

"Get back, you bastard! I said get back!"

"Shoulder to shoulder!"

Fortunately, even amid that chaos, the comparatively clearheaded veterans gave them something to follow. They slapped the senseless recruits across the face, stopped men from charging off or standing in a daze, and directed them into formation according to orders from above.

As a result, though they scarcely understood how, they had achieved an overwhelming victory. The difficulty of finding their own comrades among the hundreds of corpses strewn across the field made that clear enough.

One small mercy was how conspicuous the black hydra-hide armor was.

"So this is where Zeres died."

"Let's see. Coat's intact, trousers are here, boots are here, and his shield and spear... There they are."

"Well, that's a relief. Shupe's spear was missing earlier. Finding it was a real pain."

"This shield's too damaged to use anyway. Let's just pull out the magic stone."

Unlike the recruits, who shed tears at the sight of their fallen comrades, the experienced soldiers collected the bodies with relative composure. For the Altoans from the capital in particular, losing a companion was not as unfamiliar as one might think. The knife fights in the slums were no less dangerous than war.

"Oh, this bastard's got a nice bracelet."

"His clothes are torn, but they're pretty fine too. Think he was a noble? He could've lived if he'd surrendered. Why'd he go and die?"

"Who has the presence of mind to surrender in the middle of a fight?"

Meanwhile, those not assigned to recover their comrades searched the enemy dead for anything useful, then dumped the bodies. In monster-infested Pendia, there was no need to worry about rot spreading disease. The creatures prowling around the battlefield would creep over and clean up by devouring the lot.

"Oh, wait. Bring that body too."

"Why?"

"Orders. We're supposed to bring back some enemy bodies and give them a funeral too."

"What a pain."

Clothes taken as spoils were sent to the rear along with the soldiers' own clothing.

"Ugh, once this damned blood soaks in, it never comes out."

"Isn't that what you're paid for, ma'am?"

"Are you the one paying me? Who are you to act so high and mighty?"

"Good grief, what a temper."

Beside a stream near the battlefield, a soldier standing guard with his spear ready chuckled as he answered the laundress scrubbing away at the washing.

Some thirty women accompanied the Pales army on campaign, helping with work outside combat. Family members of soldiers and mercenaries, they washed, sewed, cooked, and assisted the priests in tending the wounded.

"Ugh..."

"Bear with it a little longer. The priest's exhausted right now."

"They can put my hand back on, right?"

"Of course. Her Highness promised they'd reattach it as long as someone found it."

"Thank goodness..."

Lying on a makeshift bed with his hand severed at the wrist, the soldier shed tears of mingled pain and relief.

Even between battles, those who went to war had to work without rest.

* * *

While the rank and file went about their duties, their superiors were busy in their own way.

"No. We can't spare the men."

"I hear your force suffered the fewest casualties."

"We lost over a hundred dead too. That's more than a tenth of our available troops."

At the war council attended by the leaders of each faction, Sherin rejected Conrad's demand that she form a pursuit force to harry the fleeing enemy.

"... My army suffered some six hundred dead alone. Duke Morayen lost more than three hundred men as well."

"That's what happens when you pad your numbers with conscripts. Ten of my soldiers are worth more than a hundred of yours."

Conrad's face twisted viciously, but Sherin paid him no heed, feigning indifference as she tended her nails. Had he followed his temper, he would have slapped her at once to teach her some manners. With the green-eyed knight standing right behind her, however, that was out of the question.

Watching from behind her, Shan whispered to the spider clinging to his breastplate.

"... Even so, isn't a hundred stretching it a bit too far? I think they'll find out."

[What does it matter? It's not as though they're going to count.]

In truth, Sherin's army had suffered only fifty-seven wounded and nineteen dead. A substantial proportion of those casualties belonged to the relatively poorly equipped troops of Viscount Treva and the barons. Among Sherin's own heavy infantry, who had actually fought at the front, only eight had died.

Considering that they had killed at least three or four hundred enemy infantry and captured two hundred horse archers, the exchange was truly absurd.

Naturally, their first reason for concealing this was to avoid being saddled with the extra work of pursuit. Their second was to avoid drawing Conrad's and Duke Morayen's efforts to keep them in check. If the two learned how overwhelmingly powerful an army equipped with mass-produced magical devices could be, they might conclude that Sherin's forces needed to be eliminated before Elvin.

Fortunately, there was no way to know their exact death toll without secretly stealing their military records. To help conceal it, they had deliberately brought back enemy bodies they would ordinarily have discarded and given them a simple funeral. At a glance, it could easily look as though they had lost a hundred or so men.

"Well, we can take our time deciding whether to pursue... Princess, have you any advice about the magical attack my forces suffered? I have heard much of your reputation as Pendia's greatest mage."

"I only heard about it rather than seeing it myself, so I can't be certain, but it was probably some sort of magic that amplifies hostility to the utmost. The scale was far too large for dancing and incantations alone. They may have dispersed a substance in gaseous form beforehand for your troops to inhale, using it as a catalyst."

"Hmm, I see."

"Even allowing for that, it's formidable magic. They probably used an exceptionally rare and potent catalyst. It won't be easy to use repeatedly."

Sherin calmly answered Duke Morayen's question, shifting the subject. He was asking about the unidentified magic that had suddenly caused his army to turn on itself.

"Hostility..."

"You said only the men conscripted in Pendia were affected? Then it's obvious enough. We have a few forms of mind magic in Pendia that draw out latent hostility too. None that can be used this powerfully or on such a scale, though."

After occupying northwestern Pendia, Duke Morayen had forcibly drafted anyone in the area fit to serve as a soldier. Naturally, he had bound those men together through brutal beatings and discipline. Having held them in place through fear, executing a few as examples, he could hardly expect anything but rebellion when drugs and magic dulled that fear and intensified their hatred.

The duke stroked his chin and nodded at the explanation.

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

Prince Conrad also commanded a large body of conscripts, but he was at least a legitimate heir to Pendia. His men had a vague sense of belonging, of being subjects of the kingdom who ought to fight under his command.

By contrast, such methods were bound to be devastating against Duke Morayen, a foreign noble who had invaded and summarily conscripted them. It was difficult to erase the underlying resentment of men wondering why they had to risk their lives fighting here.

"Then is there any way to counter it, Princess?"

"A drug that grants mild resistance to mind magic should be enough. I'll make it if you pay. It doesn't require particularly rare ingredients."

"Rather coldhearted toward a comrade in arms, aren't you?"

"Suit yourself."

Faced with Sherin's uncompromising attitude, Duke Morayen shook his head and agreed. Then he muttered in complaint.

"That damned Sacred Treaty! They can use all the magic they please, but we cannot even use miracles to neutralize it. It's unfair. There's no beauty in it!"

The Sacred Treaty was an agreement concluded long ago after a civil war between the Old Faith and the New Faith, pledging not to use the Goddess's power in conflicts between humans. Healing the wounded after battle was permitted, but bestowing blessings on combatants or using that power offensively, as with Purifying flame, was strictly forbidden.

Naturally, magic had not been included in the treaty because, at the time, no ruler had even considered hiring mages to wield magic on the battlefield. Magical devices, meanwhile, were legacies of the Alto Empire already treasured as heirlooms by many high-ranking noble houses, and were likewise excluded as a matter of course.

The duke's grumbling was short-lived. His gaze swung toward Shan, and all trace of his earlier displeasure vanished, replaced by a smile bright enough to be chilling.

"Speaking of which, Sir Shan, I've heard the news! You forced those infamous half-horse archers to surrender, didn't you?"

"I was fortunate."

"Fortunate, indeed! Wasn't their captain Ranta of the Lugan Tribe?"

"Yes, that was his name."

"He's rather more famous than you might think."

As the duke went on to explain, Ranta was known as the Blue Wolf, an exceptional marksman even among Horace's half-horse archers. His status as the chieftain's younger brother also made him the equivalent of a noble in Libert or Pendia.

"I've seen him shoot myself. Not as beautiful as you, perhaps, but a sight to rank among the finest. Subduing a man like that isn't something one does 'by chance.' Certainly not!"

At Duke Morayen's effusive praise, the surrounding knights began to look at Shan differently. Admiration and hostility entered the eyes of those who had dismissed him as an Altoan country bumpkin who had lucked into a little fame.

"I'd hoped to see you fight the Beanpole too, actually. I hear Marquis Abel fought him, but it ended in another draw."

"Did it?"

This was news to Shan, and he looked at Marquis Abel with mild surprise. Though they had never fought, the movements Shan had seen suggested that the marquis's skill was on an entirely different level from other knights. The Lug he remembered should have been no match for him. Just how much stronger had all that actual combat made him?

Seeing Shan's expression, Marquis Abel spoke quietly.

"I can still defeat him readily enough one on one, but he fought as though he meant to kill me even at the cost of his own life. Unfortunately, I'm not yet prepared to die with him."

That made the situation clear enough. Even a less skilled fighter could pressure a stronger opponent if he was willing to throw his life away. Of course, the best he could hope for was to take his opponent with him; otherwise, he would simply die alone. But the stronger fighter had no reason to risk such an exchange against someone he could defeat by taking his time.

Naturally, that tended to prolong the fight.

What Shan wanted to know was how they had come to bear such a grudge, but it did not seem the marquis intended to explain.

While the knights chatted, Conrad argued with Sherin again, this time over the treatment of the captured horse archers. Rather than raising serious objections, he seemed to be searching for any fault he could exploit for his own gain.

After much more debate, they abandoned the plan to form a pursuit force and decided to respond according to the enemy's movements. A three-headed beast certainly had trouble moving with agility and flexibility.

* * *

Back at headquarters, Sherin received a report from Roden, who had been overseeing the battlefield cleanup in the meantime. He also gave her a verbal summary of several important points.

"We examined the dead from the elite troops issued hydra armor. They were killed by attacks to the neck and face."

"It's unfortunate our budget didn't allow us to introduce visors for their helmets. We'll have to try to supply them as quickly as possible before the next battle... For now, give the wounded first priority. Use all our priests and magical medicines to prevent permanent disabilities wherever possible. Treat the prisoners afterward, as time and resources allow."

"Understood."

As Roden acknowledged Sherin's orders, a knight beside them spoke with a faint smile.

"Still, it's a shame we couldn't pursue them farther. I've heard that chasing a routed enemy is precisely when one can make the most of a victory."

"Indeed. If we'd kept chasing, we might have caught that bastard Elvin..."

"That would be a problem."

At Sherin's words, everyone turned toward her in surprise.

"You all seem to be laboring under a misunderstanding. We came here to prevent Conrad's downfall, not to make him the victor. We cannot push Elvin too far."

"Ah..."

"Now that you mention it, that's right."

Though Elvin's acquisition of the king's support had sent Conrad's fortunes into decline, Conrad remained a powerful warlord controlling western Pendia and the capital. If they cornered Elvin completely now, they would lose their means of keeping Conrad in check.

It was a thoroughly knightly way of thinking, lacking a view of the bigger picture and fixating only on the victory before their eyes.

Of course, that was not necessarily a bad thing. Knights who interpreted wars politically and made their own decisions were more likely to create trouble for their ruler. It was more reassuring to have them act as frontline commanders and elite fighting men, as they did now, doing their utmost whenever ordered to fight.

"Even aside from that, continuing the pursuit would have cost us dearly."

As Shan explained, he recalled the situation on the battlefield.

After defeating the enemy knights, Pales's army had torn through Elvin's forces before them in a one-sided slaughter. The enemy had then sounded the retreat and concentrated its returning troops on its right, halting Pales's advance and attempting to surround them instead.

With Duke Morayen's allied right wing already in flight, pressing farther as the knights suggested would have inflicted heavy losses on Prince Elvin, but at considerable cost to their own forces as well.

At that point in his explanation, Shan gave a little "Oh," and turned to Roden.

"From what I saw this time, sending heavy cavalry after horse archers isn't a very good idea. I doubt anyone but me could've caught them."

The atmosphere froze as the Lord Guardian, who should have held command himself, openly reproached his deputy for a mistake. Paying that no heed, Roden nodded gravely.

"Was it that bad?"

"Yes. We'd be better off increasing our archers and using them to drive the horse archers away from the main force. Or funneling them into terrain they can't escape from."

"I see... All right."

Shan's extraordinary strength had forced a strategy that should have failed into success. Remembering it as a successful strategy could lead to a far greater disaster. He would not be able to take part in every battle to come.

'A force composed primarily of heavy cavalry cannot pursue Horace's half-horse archers.'

Without attaching any political significance to the exchange, Roden took it simply as information and added it to his criteria for making decisions. If they encountered horse archers again without Shan present, he would not repeat the same mistake.

This was one of Pales's unseen strengths. In organizations rife with internal politics, even such trivial exchanges of opinion often acquired needless implications.

"Then how shall we handle the prisoners?"

"We can ransom the nobles. As for the commoners... would it be better to take them to Pales and train them as soldiers?"

"Hmm. Yes, I suppose so."

Sherin nodded at one knight's suggestion.

The introduction of various household magical devices had reduced the labor required, but Pales still needed more young men regardless.

"The problem is those horse archers from Horace."

"Wouldn't the king of Luman ransom them?"

"That would be fine. Otherwise... we could hire them ourselves, couldn't we?"

"Hmm."

The knights who had fought them nodded soberly. They had only prevailed thanks to the unreasonable existence that was Shan. Until then, they had been almost entirely at their opponents' mercy. True to their reputation, the archers moved freely on horseback and loosed arrows as though their upper bodies were human and their lower bodies equine. It had been downright terrifying.

"I'm worried about how much they'll ask for."

"We can consider that once their captain wakes up. We haven't even decided to hire them yet—"

Midway through speaking, Sherin suddenly grimaced. When everyone looked puzzled, she shook her head.

"It's nothing. Just a slight headache."

"Shall I summon a priest, Your Highness?"

"It's not that serious."

Having answered, Sherin looked around at her retainers and spoke quietly.

"I've given it some thought, and I believe we've done quite enough here."

"You mean?"

"If Elvin continues attacking, that is another matter. But if he takes a passive stance, we should be ready to withdraw at once."

Startled by the sudden declaration, her retainers exchanged bewildered looks. She had certainly just said that allowing Conrad to win would be a problem, but everyone knew the balance of the war had not yet shifted that far. In fact, Conrad had suffered the greatest losses in this battle.

Still, Sherin was so firm that they nodded at their liege's order to prepare to return home.

After the meeting, Shan approached the grimacing Sherin.

"You saw something, didn't you?"

"Yes. Conrad, that son of a bitch. Honestly."

Others might not have realized it, but Shan knew she had kept part of her attention on her spiders even during the meeting, scouting their surroundings, and had discovered something. Elvin's army had fled quite far from here, so the information had probably come from Conrad or Duke Morayen.

As he watched her in silence, Sherin told him what she had seen.

"I thought it was suspicious how he dodged the question when I asked where Cassia had gone. He's sold his own younger sister to the northern barbarians."

Cassia had originally been betrothed to the heir to the Kingdom of Ajun, but Shan's killing of one of its nobles in the Demonlands had inadvertently brought about the engagement's dissolution. Only the four explorers of Green Eyes knew that, however.

Now, apparently, Conrad had revived that engagement and secured the promise of an army as a dowry. The Kingdom of Ajun, another prominent Old Faith nation, would intervene under the pretext of "restoring the true faith."

If that was the case, there was no point in continuing to fight alongside Conrad here. Once the reinforcements from Ajun joined him, he would be able to hold his own against Elvin without their help.

"One's as bad as the other. These so-called princes think of nothing but selling out their country so they can make themselves king..."

Sherin muttered in disbelief at the utterly pathetic state of affairs.