Screams and wails erupted. The humans shrieked.
"Great being! Please, forgive us! Forgive us—!"
"Save me! I'll do anything—just spare my life, please, just spare me!"
Fifty people wailed in their own unique ways. It was like an orchestra with zero rehearsal playing a discordant symphony. I certainly wasn't about to be moved by this chaotic cacophony. My orders stood unchanged.
—Fwoosh.
Our soldiers set fire to the woodpiles. The flames, spread from the torches, grew ever larger. The screams rose another octave.
Burning at the stake was quite tedious. You had to gather huge amounts of dry firewood, and above all, the executions took far too long. Considering I still had hundreds of people to kill on my schedule, it was undeniably inefficient. And yet, the reason I chose burning was simple.
Because it was cruel.
"Shit, untie me! Untie me right now—!"
"O benevolent Persephone, please guide my soul and my people…"
"Aaargh! Aaargh! Kraaargh!"
The village head. The landlord. The tax collector's subordinates. The militia captain. Humans who would have reigned as nobles in their small society, slowly burning from the waist down.
The flames warped the view into shimmering distortions. They screamed, choked on smoke, gasping and sputtering—some lost consciousness, some wept until the very end. But the finale was the same for all. Every one of them crumbled into charred skulls and fell lifelessly to the ground.
"..."
The Bretagne forces standing on the city walls fell silent.
Burning at the stake had one more advantage. It was highly visible. The smoke billowing from the burning firewood could easily be observed from afar. The citizens of Pariciorum would see it clearly, too.
Humans were dying beyond those walls in real time… they had to feel that reality sink in. My objective was to put pressure on the citizens of Pariciorum, and through that, deliver pressure to Henrietta.
"Starting now. Every six hours."
My warning echoed high through the pitch-black sky above.
"I shall carry out the executions at the southern gate. The more the sovereign of Bretagne flees from his sins, the more victims there will be. There shall be no mercy here."
"……."
"You would do well to watch closely, people of Bretagne. Just how enormous a seed of sin you have sown. What form that harvest is taking. And how long you can continue to look away from the sacrifice……."
From that day onward, executions by fire were carried out four times a day.
The executions made no distinction between day and night. They made no distinction between man or woman, young or old. During the day, black smoke billowed into the sky, and at night, blazing red flames could be seen from far off. On the south side of Pariciorum, the acrid smell of burning never let up.
Just as I had predicted, the Bretagne army did not move. No—it would be more accurate to say they could not move.
"Protests are breaking out in Pariciorum."
Gamigin reported. She led a wyvern squadron, surveilling the city from above. Protests had begun on the second day after the executions started.
"Good. How large is the crowd?"
"Growing by the hour. Started at around thirty, but now they're at four hundred."
The protests swelled at an alarming rate. It was proof that the citizens were gripped with fear.
According to Gamigin, their demands were simple: stop the massacre happening outside the city walls. From Henrietta's perspective, there was nothing she could do. She wanted to flee the city at any moment, but her feet were held fast.
Three days, four days, five days. Time dragged on without end.
In the meantime, a battle took place—though not at Pariciorum. Rather unexpectedly, it occurred far from the city, out at sea in a naval engagement. With the land routes sealed off, the Bretagne army had attempted to send supply lines through the river.
And waiting at the river mouth was the fleet of the Batavia Republic.
"If they determine that a siege is inevitable, the Bretagne army will almost certainly attempt resupply via the river."
Laura pointed out.
"Stationing a fleet at the mouth of the Secuana River would yield significant gains."
Bretagne might have been an unrivaled force on land, but their navy was nothing special. The Batavia Republic, on the other hand, boasted one of the finest navies in the world, rivaling even the Sarnia Kingdom. When over fifty large galleys ambushed the supply convoy, the Bretagne navy was utterly helpless.
Sunk warships—large and small combined—numbered twenty. Captured supply vessels alone totaled thirty.
Laura's predictions proved accurate once again. When the commanders received reports that supply ships loaded with provisions were now heading toward them instead, they burst into laughter. Among them, more than a few Demon Lords gazed at Laura with looks of shock and admiration.
"At this point, she's practically a prophet."
Brother Beleth grumbled. Laura had no longer secured her authority merely by leaning on the military decree. She had convinced those around her of her vice-commander status purely through competence.
Yet Laura stood about a half-step removed from the fervor around her. Her expression hadn't changed either. She had simply anticipated what would naturally happen, naturally. That was the feeling. She probably truly believed that herself.
With this, the Bretagne forces had lost every means of resupplying on their own.
They had surely scraped together every last bit of food remaining in Parisiorum, but well—how long could they really hold out?
If they were going to flee, they needed to do it a day sooner rather than later. Dithering without committing to either option and wasting time was the worst possible move. No one understood that better than Henrietta.
"Our fleet has been defeated by the Batavian navy."
The room fell silent at Queen Henrietta's words. The generals quieted their voices and cast their gazes downward. The moment the queen learned the supply depot had been raided, she had contacted the homeland's navy. It was an act of supreme swiftness. And it had been thwarted…
"Your Majesty, then our supplies…"
"Not a single ship broke through the Batavian blockade. Gentlemen. We cannot count on resupply."
In that moment, the fate of the Bretagne kingdom's army was sealed.
Henrietta spoke bitterly.
"That's why I wondered how the communication jamming was lifted so easily. I thought they'd broken through using the imperial palace's magic circle, but that wasn't it. The enemy deliberately undid the anti-magic field. So that we would request reinforcements from the navy…"
"Your Majesty. Surely the enemy didn't predict even that?"
A general posed the question.
"There was probably some degree of coincidence involved."
"You still don't get it, gentlemen? There isn't a shred of coincidence in this war. Building the fortress, crossing the river, attacking the supply depot—from beginning to end, we've been dancing to the enemy's tune… What a miserable story."
Henrietta shook her head.
"I thought it was going to be a prolonged war, but it was a short decisive battle aimed at the Emperor. I thought it was a short decisive battle, and then they seized our grain supplies. And now they're forcing a prolonged war on us all over again… I feel like nothing more than a puppet."
"……."
The people of the world called this war the Puppet War. It was a satire—the Frank Emperor who had become Bretagne's puppet, the Habsburg Emperor who had become the Demon Lord's puppet, two puppets waging war against each other.
Henrietta thought the name was appropriate for a different reason. Someone had written a script. Whether it was the Demon Lord's army or Bretagne's forces, everyone was moving according to that script. She didn't even know how long this puppet show would continue. It was a nightmare……
"How much longer can we hold out?"
At the queen's question, the generals exchanged glances.
By Henrietta's estimate, they had enough food to last twenty more days. If they rationed carefully and then rationed again, perhaps a month and a half? Having only a month's worth of food stored for a siege was embarrassing to even call stockpiles. With half a mind to test how precisely the generals understood their situation, Henrietta spoke.
"Forgive me, Your Majesty. At best, fifteen days. Even being generous, I don't think we could hold out for two months."
The generals nodded cautiously. Henrietta gave a bitter smile, knowing her officers' assessment was much the same as her own.
It delighted her that her generals were so competent. The fact that even with excellent generals she couldn't achieve victory was all the more devastating. That was precisely why Henrietta had no recourse but to smile bitterly.
One general spoke up hesitantly.
"We cannot remain in siege indefinitely, Your Majesty. The enemy is constructing an encirclement. For now, only the southern gate has been sealed, but the rest could be blocked off at any time. To preserve the nation, you must make a decision quickly."
"No. It could be the exact opposite."
Henrietta said.
"They deliberately blocked only the southern gate. It's an invitation—if we want to flee, go ahead and flee. Generals. To return to Bretagne, we must head west. We'll have to cross the Seouana River along the way. And on the other side of the Seouana River, they're holding their ground."
"……They'll attack us while we're mid-crossing."
The generals groaned.
"The most infuriating thing is that the Batavia Republic's navy has finally shown up. When we emptied the city, they could have led a fleet and struck Parisiorum by surprise. But they didn't…… What do you think the reason was?"
"……There was no need to capture Parisiorum. That is what the enemy was thinking, isn't it, Your Majesty?"
Henrietta nodded.
"That's right. Their goal isn't Parisiorum. Winning the war isn't even their aim. They're simply trying to destroy us—destroy Bretagne."
"……."
"If we settle in for a siege, we'll wither and die. A Bretagne without its army won't be a great power or anything at all. We'll instantly become the weakest nation on the continent. But if we break out instead, Bretagne will lose its ideological foundation. The people will start to doubt us. That, too, is the death of a nation……."
Henrietta murmured.
"No matter which path we choose, destruction awaits. Now that I think about it, we're in a dead end……. What a tenacious and terrible enemy."
Tenacious and terrible. The generals couldn't help but silently agree with that description.
In truth, a proper pitched battle had never taken place. The Order of the Green Roses had been annihilated, but in terms of headcount, the casualties numbered less than a thousand. Yet somehow, when they realized it, the war was already over. The generals of Bretagne could never have imagined such a war was possible.
"We'll split the army in two. One force to remain in Parisiorum and hold the siege, and one force to break out from here."
"Your Majesty."
"We'll need to leave behind enough soldiers so that word won't spread that we've abandoned the city."
The generals were at a loss for words. They, too, knew that this was the only answer. But it also meant leaving countless soldiers behind as sacrificial pawns and departing.
"They won't hold out long anyway. Leave behind the veterans and the recruits as the core."
"Your Majesty, but that……."
"Then I shall stay."
At that moment, Saint Longueuil spoke. The queen and the generals looked on in astonishment, their mouths agape. To remain in the city was to invite one's own death.
"Saint Longueuil."
"If we all leave, the soldiers will believe they've been abandoned. Even if it were true, we wouldn't be able to sustain the siege for even a single day. A sacrificial force loses all meaning."
Saint Longueuil declared firmly.
"If I remain alongside them, the soldiers won't feel abandoned. Your Majesty. Please grant me your permission."
Henrietta furrowed her brow.
"No. I will stay myself. I already abandoned soldiers at Bruno. I have no intention of committing such an act ever again."
"Your Majesty, you must remain for the sake of Bretagne. Guilt is a noble virtue for a sovereign. However, to let guilt sweep you away and botch the greater affairs would be to put the cart before the horse. Leading Bretagne to the continent — that is your duty and your calling. Have you already forgotten?"
"……."
The queen fell silent.
As everyone lowered their gaze, Saint Longueville broke into a broad smile.
"There's no need to worry so much. I have no desire to throw my life away lightly either. I'll hold out for as long as I can, and when it becomes impossible, I'll escape together with the soldiers. Surely the Goddess will grant us at least that much mercy."