A number of brigade commanders were lined up along the riverbank, waiting for us.
The ferry we had boarded glided to the shore. Servants hurried out at once, unfurling a rolled-up red carpet in a lavish display. I was the first to step off, extending my right hand with a courteous gesture.
"Madam Paimon."
"My, how kind of you."
Paimon smiled faintly and lightly took my hand.
The brigade commanders snapped to attention in unison.
"Salute to the commanders!"
"Glory to the Crescent Alliance!"
A wave of salutes followed with a sharp snap.
Sunlight reflecting off the river was blinding. In that glare, flags fluttered in the breeze. The four-humped camel symbolizing Paimon. The three-horned goat symbolizing Sitri. Various brigade banners. And the banners of the knight orders they had shattered and annihilated...
We walked along the carpet laid out through the center of the military camp.
"This almost feels like we're attending a wedding."
"Oh my. You do realize what would happen if you went around saying things like that to just anyone?"
"I wouldn't say it to just anyone. I'm telling you precisely because it's you, Paimon."
"That's exactly the kind of thing you say when you don't want anyone to believe you, Dantalion."
Paimon giggled.
I shrugged my shoulders. Sure enough, with centuries of romantic experience under her belt, she was impossible to fool. Paimon was a master on an entirely different level from Ivar Lodbrok.
"Welcome, Your Highness Paimon. Your Highness Dantalion. And..."
Laura, who had been holding the position of chief of staff, came out to greet us. She looked past us and furrowed her delicate brow.
"Why is big sister Sitri soaking wet?"
"Sob... It's all because I'm so useless. I'm sorry, big sister Paimon. I'm sorry, Dantalion. Waaah!"
Sitri looked like nothing so much as a drowned mouse. Whether river water or tears, liquid streamed down her face as she sobbed.
"...The surrender delegation is waiting in front of the city gate. I'll escort you."
Laura's expression pinched for a moment before settling back into her usual calm mask. She had apparently seen at a glance that there was nothing to be gained by paying it any mind. Smart girl.
Just as Laura had said, the surrender delegation was lined up in formation before the city gate. Their fine clothing made it plain they were all of noble birth. The Habsburg Republic might pride itself on having started a revolution, but class and status remained very much intact.
Officially, instead of words like "noble" and "commoner," they probably used terms like "first-class citizen" and "second-class citizen." In short, it was all window dressing. A clever trick, that. Consul Elisabeth truly had much to teach.
"We behold Your Greatness."
"We behold Your Greatness."
The gentlemen representing Heidelberg bowed deeply.
We exchanged courteous greetings — we would hardly be rude to a delegation, even from the enemy — and promptly began reviewing the surrender documents.
All rights to Heidelberg would be transferred to the Demon Lord's army. A war indemnity of forty thousand libra would be paid. Those who refused to accept the Demon Lord's rule must leave the city immediately.
Paimon nodded.
"There don't seem to be any issues with the documents."
The terms were remarkably generous. They weren't demanding the lives of those responsible. There would be no massacre of civilians or pillaging.
The delegation praised our mercy until their lips were worn thin.
"How could we not be moved by such benevolence?"
"May the blessings of all the gods be upon Your Greatness."
Paimon signed the documents as our representative.
A middle-aged man presented Paimon with a large key. The man was the mayor of Heidelberg, and the tribute was none other than the key to the city's main gate. In the tense atmosphere, Paimon broke into a bright smile and patted the mayor on the shoulder.
"You have fulfilled your duty as a mayor who looks after his citizens, and you have done your utmost as a commander who defended this city. I, Paimon, extend my respect to you."
"Th-thank you most graciously for Your Highness's magnanimity."
The mayor was visibly terrified. He had a fluffy beard, yet seemed to be a coward at heart.
By the way, did he just refer to himself as "your humble servant"? That's an honorific reserved for addressing one's own lord, mister. Everyone around heard it — even if you make it back alive, you'll be executed for treason. Elisabeth would never miss the chance to make a scapegoat of a defeated subordinate. Tsk, tsk.
"There is, if I may be so bold, one question I would like to ask..."
"Oh my. Please, ask anything."
"Your humble servant is too foolish and ignorant to presume to discuss matters of military strategy."
Sweat was streaming from the mayor's half-bald forehead.
"Being so incompetent, I could not for the life of me understand how the night raid by the knight order ended in complete failure... or how the fire attack fleet was annihilated at Heilbronn. I humbly ask: upon what principle did Your Greatness perceive the grand scheme so clearly?"
Huh, so this disheveled little man had apparently also served as a staff officer for the enemy forces.
Hmm. Hmm? Mmm...
Suspicious. Even if it was just a little, perhaps I should prepare for the worst. It seemed unlikely, but better safe than sorry.
"Well then. Upon what principle, you ask."
Paimon glanced over at me.
Laura was my subordinate. She had the right to answer the question that had been directed at me. By looking back at Laura, I yielded that right to the person involved.
Laura nodded and opened her mouth.
"I am the one who anticipated your plans in advance."
"Eh...?"
The mayor looked flustered, scanning Laura's appearance from head to toe. When Laura's brow furrowed in displeasure, the mayor quickly bowed his head.
"F-forgive me. You appeared so impossibly young... Please forgive my inability to gauge the age of you demonkin."
"I am not a demonkin. I'm human. I've only lived twenty years and three months, so you needn't worry about causing offense."
The mayor's expression gradually descended into a maelstrom of confusion. The other delegates beside him were clearly unsettled as well.
"You're a human...? No, rather, how can a young lady of twenty..."
"We will not discuss extraneous matters."
Laura cut him off curtly.
"You first asked how I saw through the grand scheme, but the question itself is flawed. The reason you lost this war had nothing to do with grand schemes or fate. There are wars where victory and defeat are decided by fortune. But this was not one of them."
Laura toyed with her hair with one hand.
"I was fully aware that you are a highly competent individual. Consul Elisabeth is an unprecedented tactician, and the military establishment supporting her is staffed by equally capable people. Heidelberg is one of the most critical strongholds. The probability that Consul Elisabeth would send an incompetent soldier as its commander was close to zero."
"What do you mean..."
"It means I had a fairly clear picture of your character."
She swept her golden hair back with a smooth gesture — a sign that her thoughts had been neatly organized in her mind.
"A competent soldier knows precisely when to be bold and when to be cautious. I can more or less imagine what Consul Elisabeth told you when she entrusted Heidelberg to you. 'You must hold the fortress.'"
"..."
"'But your forces are limited. Do not expect reinforcements from the capital, and engage the enemy with minimal losses.' Something like that, I imagine. You were in a position where you had to deploy your troops with extreme efficiency."
The mayor's complexion grew paler by the second. Regardless, Laura pressed on with what she had to say.
"The fortress was surrounded. What would you have decided? To break the siege entirely? Absolutely not. You are competent. That is why you would have immediately realized that 'destroying the bridge alone would resolve the entire situation.' Am I wrong?"
"...Y-yes, that's correct."
"You see. The problem simplifies itself."
Laura smiled broadly.
"What is the method that concentrates destruction on a single point while minimizing losses?"
"...A surprise attack."
"Hm. More precisely, a night raid. However, a night raid is doomed to fail unless carried out by well-trained troops. To ensure the operation's success, you had no choice but to deploy your finest forces — namely, the knight order."
Laura was as kind about it as a friend casually revealing the secret behind a magic trick.
"You must have ordered the knight order to charge again and again — dozens of times if necessary — until they broke through, even if we were prepared for a night raid. You'll be pleased to know: the knight order followed your instructions faithfully, charging over sixteen times. Right up until they were annihilated."
The mayor's shoulders trembled.
"Where you would aim, what you would use, how you would go about it — everything was laid bare. Is any further explanation needed?"
The mayor hung his head in silence for a moment. The other delegates watched him with worried eyes. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he finally managed to speak again.
"The fire attack fleet... how did you..."
"The same principle. With the knight order obliterated, you decided to attempt breaking through the bridge once more with minimal losses. With your ground-based attack options gone, what remained? The answer was water. A simple matter of choosing between two options."
"Simple..."
The mayor raised his head. Tiny red veins had spread across his eyes.
"But the fire attack fleet was annihilated before it even reached the bridge. I cannot accept that."
"Hm? Isn't it obvious?"
Laura tilted her head as if the answer should have been self-evident.
"You calculated the time the fleet would arrive at the bridge on a day with strong easterly winds, working backward? If one then reverses that reverse calculation, the time the fleet would arrive at Heilbronn is immediately apparent. This too is simple logic. There, you see — no grand schemes or fortune anywhere."
"..."
Silence fell.
Then the mayor let out a snarl thick with fury.
"You little wretch... you wretched thing, daring to trample our territory like this!"
Well now.
The mayor spread his arms and charged at Laura like a beast. A faint aura was blooming from his fists. The mayor, it turned out, had been a knight.
Screams erupted around them. The delegates cried out in shock, stammering in alarm. Paimon's eyes went wide, and Sitri stamped the ground, ready to rush forward. But there was no real need for their concern.
"Ugh—AAGH!"
The mayor's entire body was already pierced through by greatswords that had burst from the shadows.
They were the Death Knights. I had found the whole thing suspicious from the start, so I had had them standing by.
Listening to the whole thing in silence, I had to admit — wasn't this all far too suspicious? The man was a mayor, a military commander, and an operations staff officer all rolled into one. In short, he was a figure who handled civil administration, military governance, and military strategy simultaneously. He was absurdly capable.
And a man that capable couldn't even manage his own speech patterns and facial expressions, resorting to calling himself "your humble servant"?
Suspicious. He had probably been trying to feign weakness to make us let our guard down. Sorry, but that kind of bottom-tier acting couldn't fool even a newborn.
"My lord."
Laura looked at me. She didn't seem particularly surprised. What kind of twenty-year-old girl had nerves of steel like that?
I found it amusing and couldn't help but snicker.
"A gift for you, Laura. Feel free to take that pig's head as a collectible."
Laura's eyes widened slightly before she quickly broke into a smile.
"A lady cannot very well refuse a gift bestowed by her lord."
Laura drew the longsword at her hip. Though his limbs were pierced through, the mayor was still breathing — and in a single stroke, Laura lopped off his head. The severed head hovered in the air for just a brief moment before thudding to the ground.
Silence settled over the surroundings.
"Perhaps the invitation was delivered to the wrong address. It seems these people weren't a delegation at all, but rather an assassination squad. Well, when the deliveryman confuses the government office with the assassin's guild, there's nothing one can do about it."
I said to Paimon in a leisurely tone.
The delegates' faces had drained of all color. Judging by the atmosphere, the mayor had apparently acted alone in his attempt at assassination. A lone perpetrator — the others were innocent. Show a final shred of human pride, and the rest survive. Was that what he had intended?
Fine. I would show them the price of underestimating us.
"We politely decline any uninvited guests who wish to ruin the celebration. All we can do is send them to the place they belong. Isn't that right?"
In other words: kill them all.