〇 〇 〇
The left flank of the battlefield, meanwhile, had reached a stalemate.
“Ugh... Damn you! You’ll pay for that!”
“Fire! Shoot more arrows!”
Here, the nobles supporting Arthur and Lance had clashed. The western side had more soldiers, but they were unable to leverage that advantage, which created the deadlock.
“Just where did they get ahold of such good armor?!” one of the leaders of the western army exclaimed, gritting his teeth.
That was the reason for the standstill—the eastern army had very good armor. Every single one of them—including Count Atlaus, who was leading them—was wearing armor made of dragon scale. As the name indicated, it was indeed made from precious scales that could only be obtained from a dragon or one of their subspecies. Its defensive capabilities were exceptional, which was how the eastern army had been able to endure the western army’s onslaught.
“Wasn’t there a wyvern outbreak in Count Atlaus’s domain? Maybe they made the armor from them.”
“What are you saying? Five wyverns are enough to destroy a small town. How could they have dealt with an entire outbreak of them?”
Unfortunately for him and the western army, his comrade’s assumption was correct. The armor used by the eastern army was made from the scales they had obtained from killing the wyverns with Caim’s poison. Because they hadn’t had much time, they had been made hastily, but the quality of the material was good enough to be effective in battle.
“At this rate, we won’t be able to break through their ranks. We might need to make some sacrifices to force our way through...”
“No need for that. Continue like this,” interrupted a dignified, bearded old knight.
“Margrave Backsten...” the young nobles muttered.
Despite being well into his seventies, Backsten’s body showed no sign of physical decline, and his presence was sharp and intimidating. It was obvious to anyone that he was no mere old man.
“Impatience leads to ruin in war. There is no need to be hasty. Let’s take our time and wear them down.”
“But, Margrave Backsten... If we do that, Prince Arthur will leave us behind...”
“So what? We just need to keep the enemy here,” Backsten said calmly, his composure unaffected by the battlefield. Of course he was unaffected—he was a margrave, meaning that he was in charge of protecting the Garnet Empire’s border. Skirmishes with other nations were part of his routine, which was why he was the one in charge here.
“Prince Arthur will slay Prince Lance before long. Keeping the enemy here so that they don’t impede him is enough. If we attack recklessly, we will only play into their hands. We must stay vigilant and keep pressuring them.”
“I-I see...”
“I would expect no less from you, Margrave Backsten. You truly are a veteran.”
The young nobles were impressed by the margrave. They knew that if they followed him, everything would be fine. Having regained their calm, they were now ashamed of their thoughtlessness.
“If the people at the top get agitated, it will affect the soldiers. You must keep your composure and—” Backsten suddenly stopped talking.
As the young nobles stared at him, perplexed, Backsten collapsed.
“What?!”
“Margrave Backsten!”
“How disappointing. I didn’t think it would be so easy,” said the beautiful woman who had been hidden behind Backsten until just now. She had navy blue hair worn in a braid and was holding a bloodied knife. This was Rozbeth the Headhuntress, a former assassin who was currently Millicia’s bodyguard. “I suppose even the Fierce General Backsten can’t win against old age. What a letdown.”
“How could you?!”
“There’s an intruder! Kill her!”
“Oh, shut it and die like the insects you are.”
The nobles readied their weapons in a frenzy, but Rozbeth sprang into motion before they could act. She moved her lithe body with feline grace, darting between the nobles as she beheaded each one.
A moment later, they were nothing but bloody fountains.
Rozbeth smiled gruesomely as she was showered with blood. “I must do my job. With this, the left flank should be taken care of. Now, where should I strike next?” She vanished before the soldiers could even notice what had happened to their commanders.
A little after that, the stalemate broke. Deprived of their leadership, the western army lost its cohesion and fell apart, easily crushed by the eastern army under Count Atlaus.
Later, when Count Atlaus and his men arrived at the location the commanders had been, they could only cock their heads in confusion at who had killed the nobles.
“Well then, who’s next?” Rozbeth muttered as she took another general’s head.
Rozbeth’s role in the war was to assassinate the enemy commanders. No matter their numbers, in the end, armies were like living beings—if they lost their head, it was over for them. And so, Rozbeth had been using her assassin skills to their fullest, infiltrating the enemy’s ranks and killing their commanders. Every time her navy blue hair fluttered as she swung her dark gray knives, a flower of blood blossomed. She also killed ordinary soldiers while she was at it, so the knights of the western army felt as though they were trapped in a nightmare as their comrades were murdered one after another.
“It would be best to hunt Prince Arthur’s head, but I don’t think I can do it...” Last time she had tried at the imperial palace, the Twin Wings had obstructed her, and she had been forced to flee. “I’m sure those two are protecting him today too, so it’d just end the same way... Hm?”
Rozbeth suddenly sensed an ominous presence. Puzzled, she headed in its direction.
“I summon you, high demon! Defeat our enemy!”
“We have prepared these offerings for you! You may take their lives!”
An evil ritual was taking place in a corner of the battlefield. Unconscious men bound by ropes were lying on the ground at the center of a magic circle, surrounded by people wearing robes. The robed people were chanting an incantation, trying to summon some unknown being.
“Aren’t they from the Ladies of the Lake?” Rozbeth wondered, observing them with a frown from her hiding place. She had heard about them from Caim—they were mages who had tried to ambush Count Atlaus at the mountain pass. “Are they trying to summon a demon?”
Rozbeth was right. The remnants of the Ladies of the Lake had captured soldiers from the eastern army and were offering them as sacrifices to call forth a demon. By chance, Rozbeth had noticed their ritual.
“Well... I suppose I should stop them.” Her decision made, Rozbeth acted immediately. She emerged from her hiding spot and threw several knives at the mages.
“What?!”
“Who’s there?!”
“Oh?” Rozbeth was surprised to see that her knives had been repelled by an invisible wall. Apparently, they had made preparations for defending themselves during the ritual beforehand.
The mages turned her way.
“An assassin!”
“Don’t hinder us, woman!”
Rozbeth took out new knives,
“You’re too late! Our ritual will soon be over!”
“We’re summoning a high demon! It’ll crush you foolish common folk like worms!”
“Is that so? I’m not going to let you do that, though.” Rozbeth threw knives once again.
The mages were about to activate the same spell that had protected them earlier—but contrary to their expectations, the knives missed them.
“Ha ha ha ha! Where are you aiming?”
“Why did you even come here, you foolish woma— Huh?”
“Gah!”
Screams rang out.
The mages turned around and saw corpses with knives stabbed into their necks. The captives who had been placed on the magic circle as sacrifices were all dead.
“The sacrifices need to be alive, no? Demons sure are a picky bunch for only eating live bait,” Rozbeth said.
“Wh-Wh-What did you do?!” one of the mages shouted as the light from the magic circle died out, having lost its catalysts.
“Weren’t they your allies? Are you even human?!”
“I don’t want to hear that from people like you!” Rozbeth used their confusion to draw close to them. Then, covering the point of a large knife with mana, she stabbed them one after another, piercing through the magic wall that protected them.
“Gah!”
“H-How dare— Ugh!”
“I’m hunting your heads now.” Rozbeth beheaded them rhythmically.
Stabbing someone directly was more damaging than throwing a knife—even more so with mana covering the tip of the blade. Thanks to that, she was able to pierce through the mages’ barriers. Moreover, they were already exhausted from using most of their mana for the ritual, so they didn’t offer much resistance.
With that, the remnants from the Ladies of the Lake, Merlin’s disciples, were annihilated in a corner of the battlefield before they could even achieve anything.