"Retreat."
That was what Margrave Fritz von Rosenberg said. A bone dragon was reflected in his grey pupils. A hundred knights of the Red Boar order turned their horses at von Rosenberg's single word. None of them harbored the slightest doubt.
His adjutant spoke.
"My lord, it's Barbatos. It's almost certainly the Crescent Alliance Army."
"He's brought along a Lord of Bones who hasn't an ounce of efficiency to his name."
The count's cold voice drifted out. It was quiet enough to be swallowed by the clatter of hooves, but to the ears of the knight order — whose five senses were honed far beyond those of ordinary humans — it came through with perfect clarity.
"He's not aiming for efficiency. He's aiming for justification. Barbatos has inserted himself into a war that needs justification."
"I see. And that is why you say it's the Crescent Alliance Army."
"We must report this to His Majesty the Emperor."
The adjutant gave a bitter smile.
"Do you think His Majesty will respond properly?"
"I expect nothing from the central court. But His Highness the Crown Prince is still in the capital. He needs to seize command of the military."
The adjutant's eyes widened.
"You mean report to His Highness the Crown Prince before reporting to His Majesty?"
"We send both reports with a three-hour gap between them. Three hours should be plenty for His Highness to make contact with the central army command."
A margrave. In exchange for guarding the border, the margrave families were granted enormous freedoms. They could mobilize forces beyond what imperial law ordinarily permitted and were exempted from various obligations. They were kings of their own domain in all but name. Naturally, the imperial court assumed that any margrave could stage a rebellion at any time.
The reason no margrave had been suspected of rebellion in the past five hundred years was simple. Margraves always supported the legitimate heir. No matter how rotten the Crown Prince's character might be, no matter how utterly incompetent he might prove, the margraves backed the Crown Prince for the sole reason that he was first in the line of succession. By conducting themselves with such consistency, margraves were able to step back — just one step — from the political infighting of the central court.
"By the time the war draws to a close, Her Highness the Third Princess will have lost her position, I imagine."
"It won't be Her Highness the Princess. It will be Count Évatrie."
Count Rosenberg spoke with firm resolve.
The First Prince, the Empire's Crown Prince, was incompetent just like his father. Not merely incompetent — his character was utterly beyond repair. There existed a secret shared among only the tiniest circle of high-ranking nobles: the First Prince had, together with his younger brothers, raped his own sister. After the repeated assaults, the Crown Prince's sister, the First Imperial Princess, took her own life. The public was told she had died of illness.
The adjutant asked cautiously.
"Your Excellency. Will the Habsburg Empire fall?"
"It very well might."
Had any of the central aristocrats overheard this conversation, they would have been aghast. The crimes of slandering the imperial family and treason against the state would apply immediately — enough to warrant the extermination of three generations, with not a shred of justification for mercy. But neither the adjutant, nor Count Rosenberg, nor a single one of the hundred knights so much as furrowed a brow. To them, the empire was nothing more than a tool.
"There are two paths. The first is one where the empire survives. Count Évatrie surpasses His Highness the Crown Prince and usurps the throne. The empire will be thrown into chaos, but it may struggle back to life. In this case, however, our margraviate will be annihilated."
"And the other?"
"The path of the empire's destruction."
Count Rosenberg spoke in a voice entirely devoid of warmth.
"His Highness the Crown Prince inherits the throne. The empire rots from within and eventually collapses. But our margraviate earns the justification that we never once betrayed the nation, that we devoted ourselves solely to the defense of humanity. Even when the empire falls and a new nation rises, our sincerity will be acknowledged. I will owe you all a great deal for that. Let the house be annihilated — I accept it."
The future of the empire. Or the future of their house. Or perhaps the future of humanity itself... The adjutant wrestled with his thoughts before speaking.
"If, by some chance, Count Évatrie seizes power — what would Your Excellency do then?"
"Rather than be branded a traitor's family, it would be far better to stage a magnificent end."
The count's grey eyes glowed darkly.
"We unite with the other margraves and attack beyond the Black Mountains. We'll be surrounded with no escape and annihilated. But the margraviate will stand as humanity's guardian until the very last day of history. I will owe you all a great deal for that. Let the house be annihilated — I welcome it."
A sneer settled on his lips.
"After all, we only live once. Might as well go out in spectacular fashion."
The young man with blond hair — the former commander of the Red Fortress — slipped into an old stable. The stable on the outskirts of the city was so decrepit that it looked as though no one had set foot in it for years. It was a disguise. This was a hidden base where members of a certain organization secretly exchanged messages.
The young man pulled out a crystal ball concealed in the corner of the building. He murmured an incantation, and the crystal ball brightened. After a brief moment, a pale blue light seeped out of the crystal ball. The light formed a shallow curtain, projecting the image of a woman within it.
The young man spoke.
"Sister. Von Rosenberg has returned."
"Just now?"
"Well, given how long it took me to get here, about twenty minutes have passed."
The woman snorted.
"There's been no word from Her Highness the Imperial Princess. So it seems Von Rosenberg has decided to serve that good-for-nothing after all. A fittingly archaic choice for a relic of a bygone era."
"Uh, well… he didn't seem like that bad a person, though."
The woman fixed the young man with a sharp glare. He scratched his head and grinned sheepishly.
"Anyway… what am I supposed to do from here?"
"Her Highness has ordered you to join forces with the cavalry division for now."
"S Surely you're not going to tell me to fight the Crescent Alliance Army?"
The young man pleaded with a desperate tone, begging her to give him a break on that one. The woman sighed.
"What could you possibly do with a hundred cavalry? The Crescent Alliance Army will smash past the Red Fortress and sweep through the northern reaches of the continent. Refugees will naturally appear in their wake. Rally those refugees and form a volunteer militia. From now on, you'll be operating as its commander. I'll have the necessary funds ready within a week."
"No, sister. Does it look like just anyone can be a militia commander?"
The young man pulled a face.
"To lead common folk, you need at least some measure of fame. I have less reputation than the neighborhood stray. And I'm a defeated commander on top of that — the defeated commander who lost the Red Fortress."
"Just forge a new identity. Problem solved."
"Huh?"
The woman smiled sweetly.
"You said everyone in the fortress garrison was wiped out except for you and the cavalry, right? Then assuming someone else's identity shouldn't be too difficult. Borrow the name of someone who was reasonably well-known among the old garrison and carry on as that person. 'The legendary commander who survived the Red Fortress as the sole officer to lead his men out alive.' Push that image hard and you'll be fine.
"......"
The young man rested his chin on his hand and thought it over.
"......You're right. That would work. Hmm, I could explain to the cavalry that I had no choice but to borrow the name of a deceased comrade in order to recruit volunteer soldiers. And if I add that this will ultimately lead to the garrison's revenge, they should be convinced without much difficulty."
"Good. You have a name in mind that would resonate with people?"
"Kurtz."
The young man grinned sheepishly.
"I'll go with Kurtz Schleiermacher."
"Acting Commander of the Red Fortress? Well, that works. I'll include identification when I deliver the funds. Though the name is a little too cute for your personality, if you ask me."
"Harsh. What's wrong with my personality......"
The woman and the young man. The two of them were the shadow of the Imperial Princess.
They had sacrificed everything for the survival of the Empire and the supremacy of the Imperial Princess. They had no fixed names or identities. As needed, they became merchants, alchemists, and assassins.
"You can stop pretending to be naively virtuous. You were planning to deal with him at an appropriate time anyway, weren't you?"
"Well, that's true, but......it was a shame."
The young man sighed.
"He was a good man, but he had absolutely no interest in Her Highness the Imperial Princess. A soldier who won't pledge loyalty to the master of the Empire — it's regrettable, but he had to be eliminated."
He murmured to himself.
"It's a good thing the Crescent Alliance Army happened to move when they did. Thanks to them, the garrison was wiped out before I even had to lift a finger. Hmm, if things had gone wrong, Kurtz Schleiermacher might have been the only one left behind in the rear, sacrificing himself alone. But once I subtly let them know that the enemy was the vanguard of the Crescent Alliance Army, well......they all volunteered to stay behind and die."
The woman stared at the young man with a look of disgust.
"So you killed the entire garrison with a single conversation. You really are underhanded to the extreme."
"Th-That's not what happened. They chose death of their own accord. Please don't make me out to be some kind of monster......"
The woman shook her head. In her eyes, the young man might have looked fine on the surface, but he was rotten to the core. Still, he was competent. He was genuinely loyal to the Imperial Princess. As long as he had ability and loyalty, a few character flaws could be overlooked.
"Anyway, good work. Keep at it a little longer. And don't forget to report on how von Rosenberg behaves."
"The border count's army is thrown into chaos by the Crescent Alliance Army, and the Imperial Princess, having seized military authority, appears to resolve the situation in one fell swoop... As always, the Imperial Princess is remarkably skilled. 'A hero in turbulent times' — that phrase was made for Her Highness."
"Well, something like that. Just try not to get stabbed somewhere and stay out of trouble."
The young man caught the woman just as she was about to vanish from the crystal ball.
"Ah, sis. Hold on a second. I have a question."
"What is it?"
"About the Imperial Princess — how did she find out about the Crescent Alliance Army's invasion so far in advance?"
The young man furrowed his brow.
"It doesn't add up. It's way too fast, even at the quickest. Our Shadows are capable enough, but we don't have any spies inside the Demon Lord's army."
"Kurz."
"Yes?"
The woman smiled softly.
"Drop it. If you knew, you'd get hurt."
The light in the crystal ball went out. The stable fell silent.
The young man let out a long sigh.
The Crescent Alliance Army's Sixth Legion seized the passage through the Black Mountains. — The news struck the entire Demon Lord's army like a thunderbolt.
More than half of the legions hadn't even mobilized yet. Under those circumstances, the fact that the Sixth Legion had already secured a beachhead for the continental invasion was far from welcome news for the proud Demon Lords. Those who had been dragging their feet until now rushed to prepare their armies.
The Second and Third Legions held their departure ceremonies one right after the other. The Fourth Legion, whose role was rear support, remained quiet. The Fifth Legion, consisting of only two Demon Lords, deployed without a lavish ceremony. With the exception of the Seventh Legion that Bael had assembled on his own, the only one remaining was the First Legion.
It was the legion led by Paimon — the Mountain Faction's forces.
She gazed intently at the map. Beside her, Sitri — ranked 12th in the Mountain Faction, second only to Paimon — was chattering away.
"Ugh, Sis. You wouldn't believe how infuriating those guys are. 'The Mountain Faction's nothing but dead weight with too many bodies,' they say. 'Where'd the Demon Realm's pride go?' I swear, I wanted to tear them a new one."
Sitri was notorious for her bizarre sexual appetites. For starters, she possessed both male and female genitalia. She had been born female but had undergone elaborate surgery to acquire male reproductive organs as well. Up to that point, there was little to fault — cases like Sitri's, where someone deliberately became hermaphroditic, were fairly common in the Demon Realm. The problem was that she enjoyed copulating with anyone regardless of species — Goblins, Orcs, it didn't matter. Even the Demonkin, who were generally lenient when it came to carnal pleasures, were repulsed by this.
In the Demon Realm, there were plenty of Demonkin — both male and female — who enjoyed being on the receiving end with monsters. But Demonkin who enjoyed doing the penetrating with monsters were truly a rare minority. On this matter, Sitri declared that "those who are penetrated ought to be obligated to penetrate in return," thereby issuing a fierce critique of the current state of affairs in the Demon Realm. Naturally, Sitri's pronouncement did nothing beyond shocking Demonkin society — it drew no other response.
"Sis! Are you even listening to me?"
"Of course. Why would I ever dismiss you, Sitri?"
Sitri pouted.
"I just don't get what you're thinking sometimes, Sis. What's there to gain by secretly letting the humans know about the Crescent Alliance Army's formation?"
"There's plenty to gain."
Paimon smiled brightly.
"A lot. A whole lot."