Chapter 86 - When Your Opponent Hides Their Hand, Flip the Table

Ranta, captain of the Horace horse archers, woke on the morning after the battle. As soon as he regained consciousness, he was summoned to the tent where Sherin and her retainers waited. The first thing he did was bow deeply to Shan.

"My sincerest thanks for allowing this wretched life to continue, my master. O great warrior!"

The immediate onslaught of shameless flattery left Shan thoroughly embarrassed. Not that he could honestly say he disliked it.

"Your wound?"

"Much improved, thanks to your gracious concern."

Bandages covered the side pierced by the thrown lance. Given the depth of the wound, his internal organs must have been damaged as well. He seemed to have survived until a priest could treat him by using some special elixir.

Sherin, who had been watching quietly from the chair in the center, spoke.

"You know who I am, I trust? I summoned you because I have a few questions."

"Of course. I will answer anything."

Ranta gave a foolish chuckle, making his submission plain.

They learned quite a lot in the questioning that followed. Elvin had originally planned to reclaim all of Pendia before the year was out. The people who had broken Duke Morayen's army with bizarre magic were mages from the southern continent. And in exchange for military support, the king of Luman was taking all manner of rare resources, including magic stones, out of southern Pendia.

Sherin nodded in satisfaction.

"You know rather more than I expected."

"Humble though I am, I do command three hundred men. That earned me a seat in a corner of the war councils."

Hadn't someone said that a Horace chieftain's child was something like a noble there? His servile manner made it difficult to imagine, but given his relatively high standing on the other side, it made sense.

Having extracted most of the information she needed, Sherin nodded and asked him another question.

"Good. That will suffice. I hear your contract was with the king of Luman. Will you wait for him to pay your ransom?"

"I doubt the king of Luman will ransom us."

"Why?"

"There are plenty of men on the western plains who can replace us. Better to hire new ones than pay to bring back defeated men and give them a second chance."

It might have been different if he had an influential patron in Horace willing to pay his ransom, but he said he had no such person either.

"I heard you were a renowned warrior and noble in Horace."

"Which also makes me a rival to my elder brother, the chieftain."

According to the story that followed, Ranta's political opposition to his brother had resulted in his being shunted into command of a mercenary force tasked with securing food for the tribe. The two hundred or so men captured alongside him were his active supporters; those who had fled, by contrast, were watchers assigned by the chieftain.

"I see. So that was it..."

Sherin and her retainers exchanged looks at this previously unknown circumstance.

"Then would you be willing to enter our employ? We would provide food, clothing, and shelter, and deduct your wages from the ransom you owe as prisoners."

"Nothing could be more welcome!"

Ranta was a prisoner with no means of paying his ransom, while Pales's army was captivated by the formidable effectiveness of horse archers. With their needs fitting together so neatly, negotiations proceeded swiftly—so swiftly that one might almost suspect he had surrendered so readily with precisely this in mind.

"Of course, I trust you understand that you must remain our prisoners for the duration of this battle."

"I understand."

If released now, they might all return to Elvin's camp. Their comrades were still there, after all. What grounds did they have for trusting and releasing horse archers, the most mobile of all troop types? Unless they left some extraordinary treasure as collateral—

"Ah, that reminds me. There was this."

Shan picked up a bundle of arrows from the desk beside him. Their heads were made of deep blue-gray metal and engraved with magical patterns. These were what had pierced his breastplate.

"These packed quite a punch. Are they some sort of tribal treasure?"

"Yes. They have been passed down through the Lugan Tribe for generations. There were originally twenty-four, but ten were lost over the years. I brought seven of the remaining fourteen with me."

Horace, in the western reaches of the Arman Alliance, lay farthest from the Demonlands. While that made monsters rare, it also made relics of the old Alto era difficult to come by. Magical arrowheads like these were therefore treasures of which even the great tribes possessed only a handful.

Even if the Lugan Tribe abandoned Ranta and every one of the half-horse archers, they would probably still pay to buy these arrows back. Had he not been the tribe's finest warrior, he would never have been permitted to take them.

"I see... What do they do?"

"They penetrate better than ordinary arrows, and once embedded in the body, they inflict a curse that causes the victim to wither."

Didn't that make them something akin to cursed objects? Thinking he would have been in real trouble had one struck home, Shan set the bundle back on the desk, feeling vaguely uneasy.

Sherin smiled at the sight and addressed Ranta.

"Those magical devices are Sir Shan's spoils, but he has transferred them to me. I shall offer them as payment for your service. One year apiece, seven years in all. What do you say?"

"I can only rejoice at the return of our tribal treasures. I will gladly serve you, O great queen."

"I am not a queen yet."

Sherin could make such a promise without hesitation because those arrowheads were not particularly extraordinary treasures to them. They might have been remarkable in an age when no one could manufacture magical devices, but a single well-compressed fragment of magic stone would let them make something superior. Of course, since an arrow became expendable the moment it could not be retrieved, they had not bothered making any so far.

Purchasing a powerful horse-archer unit with objects worth little beyond their historical value as relics was a truly delightful bargain. With everyone satisfied, Sherin broached another subject.

"That reminds me, I have something to tell everyone here. This is information I received last night from a spy I planted in Conrad's camp..."

* * *

Once the discussions, including those concerning the prisoners' treatment, were over, Shan headed for Duke Morayen's camp on Sherin's orders. Conrad's camp lay between the two, but it was so crowded and busy that no one paid him any attention.

"Oh, welcome, Sir Shan."

"Is His Grace inside?"

"Yes. Shall I tell him you're here?"

"Please do."

The duke's men took Shan's visit in stride. They had become acquainted on the march down to Hasra, when his daily routine had consisted of staying at the duke's side and listening to his chatter.

Of course, most of the duke's men followed the Old Faith, and many disapproved of Shan for being Altoan. Those men never approached him in the first place. If a quarrel broke out, it was obvious whose side the duke would take.

When Shan met Duke Morayen a short while later, the man flushed red and spread his arms wide in a rather unsettling display.

"Sir Shan! To think you would come to my camp alone! Have you finally changed your mind!?"

"No."

"I see. I thought as much."

The way his rapturous expression instantly cooled made him look like an actor. Sighing with regret, the duke tilted his head.

"Then what brings you here? A message from the princess?"

"Yes. But I would prefer that you read it alone, if possible."

"Let me see it."

Duke Morayen unfolded the letter Shan handed him and frowned with a low hum. It explained that Conrad was marrying his younger sister Cassia to the prince of Ajun to obtain their army. It also proposed how they should respond.

"Is this true?"

"Yes."

"That complicates matters... Very well, I will cooperate! Tell her so."

With matters having taken this turn, Duke Morayen had no obligation to remain at Conrad's side. Once backed by Ajun's army, the first person Conrad would want removed was surely the man forcibly occupying his territory.

As he saw Shan off after their conversation, the duke shook his head as though nursing a headache.

"Honestly, the king of Pendia made a mess of raising his princes. Not that I'm one to talk."

It was difficult to disagree on several counts.

The day after this exchange, Sherin and Duke Morayen displayed a newfound enthusiasm for pursuit at the war council. Conrad questioned them in bewilderment.

"You want to pursue them?"

"We can't stay here forever. The duke and I both have places to return to."

"I agree."

Conrad sensed a strange chill in the gazes Sherin and Duke Morayen leveled at him. Their change in attitude was suspicious, but it would look ridiculous for him to reverse his position after being the one to advocate advancing.

Before long, the tents scattered throughout the camp were taken down and the baggage loaded onto wagons.

"All forces, advance! After Elvin's army!"

With that thunderous cry, the three rulers' coalition army advanced toward Elvin's forces, which had retreated far to the south.

Their wounded prevented them from moving quickly, but the enemy was in the same situation. After another day's march, they reached the opposing camp. Rather than fleeing in disarray, Elvin's army had established a proper position and stood ready to defend against an attack. Their scouts had probably warned them of the coalition's approach.

They had lacked the time to erect a proper palisade, but makeshift obstacles fashioned from nearby felled trees were scattered about to obstruct the knights' charges. In the previous battle, the coalition had repelled their attack. Now the roles were reversed.

The coalition's plan for attacking Prince Elvin's army was not particularly complicated. Its soldiers were not trained well enough for complex maneuvers to begin with, and there were three commanders with differing interests. They agreed to proceed as before: Conrad would hold the center while Sherin's army struck the enemy's left and Duke Morayen's struck its right.

Before long, Conrad issued the order as supreme commander.

"All forces, charge!"

At the prince's command, some ten thousand soldiers roared.

'Ah...'

Conrad felt exquisite pleasure in issuing such commands. The tangible realization that he ruled over countless human beings, stood above them, and held their lives and deaths in his hands... Few pleasures a human could experience compared.

"Die, you bastards!"

"Aaaaah!"

Perhaps because the elephant corps had suffered so heavily in the previous battle, the force facing them in the center this time was Luman's infantry. Marquis Abel was preparing to sortie at the sight of Lug in the distance when shocking news reached Conrad.

"Y-Your Highness! The left wing is collapsing!"

"What!?"

Sherin's army had performed beyond all expectations in the previous battle. What could possibly be happening now? No, the fighting in the center had only just begun—the wings should not even have made contact with the enemy yet.

But he was given no time to dwell on his bewilderment. News immediately followed that the right wing—Duke Morayen's army—was also routing.

"This can't be..."

"It's betrayal, Your Highness! They clearly never intended to fight properly!"

Just as the man said, Sherin's and Duke Morayen's armies had hovered on the verge of engaging, then turned and fled the instant Conrad's army entered combat. They had deliberately left their tents, provisions, and other supplies loaded on the wagons, so nothing hindered their retreat.

"H-How dare they...!"

Conrad flew into a rage upon realizing the truth, but there was nothing he could do. How could he pursue them while his own army was locked in combat with Elvin's directly ahead?

The moment he realized he was cornered, Conrad's fury burned so hot that his mind instead turned cold. A question rose within it.

'Why on earth?'

If he fell here like this, Sherin and Duke Morayen could not possibly remain safe. Once Elvin had destroyed him and set about becoming king of a united Pendia, he would never leave them alone. They must therefore have a compelling reason to make such a move. Perhaps they had discovered his plan to bring in Ajun's army through Cassia's marriage...

'Could there have been a spy?'

His thoughts naturally turned in that direction. He had privately harbored such suspicions for some time already. During his covert struggle with Elvin, there had been several occasions when he had gained or lost something through an inexplicably strange turn of events.

After a brief descent into suspicion, Conrad pulled himself together and assessed his surroundings. With both wings suddenly gone, his army was in danger of being surrounded and annihilated.

"... All forces, retreat! Fall back to Hasra for now! Put the conscripts in the rear and preserve as many of our elite troops as possible!"

"Understood."

"Marquis Abel will command the rear guard!"

One mistake could cost him Pendia's strongest knight, but without someone of that caliber buying time in the rear, it would be difficult to preserve the army. If he lost his forces here, he could never recover, even with Marquis Abel at his side. Bitter tears streamed from Conrad's eyes as he withdrew with his retainers.

* * *

Having shoved Conrad's army straight into Elvin's maw, Sherin and Duke Morayen withdrew north and joined up. Faint sounds drifted from far to the south, where fierce fighting was evidently still underway.

"Well, well. Somehow I've ended up stabbing that fellow Conrad in the back twice now."

"There's no need to stay loyal when he's already throwing a punch at us."

If they continued to honor their alliance, Conrad would devour them with Ajun's army once Elvin was defeated. Now that they knew the truth, the retainers of both camps were likewise jeering that Conrad had gotten what he deserved.

Of course, Duke Morayen had merely been joking and felt no guilt whatsoever. He smiled as he replied.

"Then do we part ways here?"

"Yes. We can each collect what we're still owed ourselves."

"Excellent."

The remaining half of Sherin's promised magic stones was in Hasra, while Duke Morayen's promised right to rule several western domains was as good as void. Oaths in the Goddess's name notwithstanding, to the outside world they were the ones who had betrayed Conrad first. Thus, they had decided to collect their payments on their own initiative. As it happened, Conrad's territories, including Hasra, were practically empty.

As they split off west and east, Duke Morayen waved.

"Until next time, Sir Shan!"

Watching Duke Morayen leave with a jovial laugh stirred a peculiar feeling in Shan. In some respects, they were utterly incompatible, yet Shan could not quite bring himself to hate him. He was a truly strange man.

After seeing the duke off, Sherin addressed her retainers.

"Good. Now we shall split up as well."

Rather than marching straight north toward home, the main force, including Sherin, would head east. Their aim was to establish connections with the eastern lords, who had been all but abandoned during the civil war.

A separate detachment, selected primarily for speed and mobility, would head for the capital, Hasra. With Elvin's army snapping at its heels, Conrad's army would need some time to return there. Their task was to seize what they needed and get out before it arrived.

"I'm counting on you, Sir Shan."

Naturally, Shan would command that force.

* * *

The detachment bound for Hasra consisted of 150 riders in all. One hundred were surrendered half-horse archers from Horace; the remaining fifty were knights and squires from Pales, including Shan.

Their leader Ranta remained with the main force because of his injury, so there was little chance of betrayal. Of course, if they had intended anything of the sort, they probably would not have surrendered in the first place.

The distance had taken the wagon-laden army two days to cover, but a few hours sufficed for the return journey. Before Hasra's walls, the men around Shan asked him a question.

"What shall we do now?"

An all-cavalry force had no means of conducting a siege. They had raised no objections only because Shan had said that would not be necessary. In fact, some of them had an inkling of his plan. Only the men of Pales knew it, but hadn't this Lord Guardian climbed down a sheer cliff hundreds of meters high?

With everyone's eyes on him, Shan shouted loudly enough to be heard atop the walls.

"Guards of the gate, hear me! I am Shan Barendil, Lord Guardian to Princess Sherin! Open the gates at once!"

"These gates will not open without Prince Conrad's orders!"

A man above the gate, seemingly of fairly high standing, shouted back with considerable spirit.

Shan listened calmly before replying.

"The traitor Conrad intends to throw this country into turmoil by bringing in the barbarians of the snowfields! We have returned only to oppose him and collect what we were owed! This is your final warning: if you do not open the gates of your own accord now, you will have brought all subsequent reprisals upon yourselves!"

"Rubbish! Open them yourself if you can, you frog-eyed Altoan bastard!"

The rather creative insult from above made Shan snort with involuntary laughter. Biko and Tavera, beside him, were seething with rage instead.

"How dare that insolent bastard...!"

"Leave it. He'll pay for it soon enough."

Shan smiled as he soothed his agitated squires.

It would actually have been inconvenient if they had meekly opened the gates. What he was about to do needed to be something that had happened because they refused to open them peacefully.

Leaving his men waiting some distance away, Shan urged Arwin swiftly toward the gate. Soldiers atop the wall shot arrows at him, but every weak shot went wide. That was only natural: anyone with real skill would have been sent to fight in the south. Of course, even a direct hit could never have penetrated his armor.

"Wait here a moment."

With that, Shan dismounted and began scaling the wall in long, swift movements, just as he had once before.

Unlike then, the plate armor covering his entire body weighed heavily upon him, but the additional strength surging from the ogre magic stone mounted inside meant there was little difference in his speed. Each time he gripped the wall and hauled himself up, his body shot higher. The men above cried out in horror.

"H-huh...?"

"That mad bastard! Rocks! Throw rocks!"

"Isn't there any boiling water or oil!?"

"Where would we get that!?"

They might have had such things in the midst of a siege, but with men and supplies both scarce, there was no chance they had made those preparations. The soldiers made do by throwing the few stones they had ready, but Shan continued steadily up the wall, unperturbed by the rocks clanging against his head and shoulders.

"H-how is that possible?"

"How on earth is he doing that...?"

While the men of Pales took it calmly as yet another miracle from their Lord Guardian, the men of Horace stared as though their eyes would pop out. To think someone could climb a city wall—the nightmare of every cavalryman—as easily as walking on level ground! If everyone in the world could do that, no one would ever have built walls.

"Is he using some sort of magical device?"

"It amazes me too, but no. He's simply incredibly good at climbing walls."

A knight beside the half-horse archer answered his question with a disbelieving laugh. It amused him to see men with monstrous mounted archery skills aghast at a monster greater than themselves.

Meanwhile, having reached the top despite the hail of stones, Shan surveyed the horrified soldiers. Their faces had turned deathly pale.

"Well, I've come to open them myself."