At the summons of Lion von Elfriede, the Council of the Thirteen Stars convened once more. It was highly irregular for the council to meet for a second time in the same month, and so was the location—not the Seventh City, but the Third.
The Third City of Bay Grand, the United City-States of Sutherland
When the lords and ladies of Sutherland gathered in Bay Grand heard from Luciana of the destruction of the Sixth City of Rue Shalla, all were lost for words. Though she was almost haggard with exhaustion, Lion had asked her to break the news in his stead—not because he wished to torment her further, but to make others recognize the arguably absurd story as reality, and press them to address the threat that bore down upon them.
When Luciana was finished, Lion picked up where she had left off with the latest information his Wolfpack had brought him, then a dead hush settled over the room.
“As if a horde of ghouls wasn’t ridiculous enough, you say those same ghouls flew imperial banners?” It was Leisenheimer of the Second City who broke the silence.
“Yes. That is why I asked you to convene here, rather than Crimson Liber. We are close enough here for you to ride out and see them.”
“Those spies of yours couldn’t have mistaken what they saw?”
Lion’s lips curled in a mirthless smile. “Weren’t you listening? If you doubt me, go and see for yourself.”
Leisenheimer’s eyes widened. “How dare you—!”
“Do calm yourself, Lord Leisenheimer,” interjected Lord Shaola of the First City. “Lord Lion, there is not a soul here who would accuse Lady Luciana of lying after seeing her thus. In light of that, however, I will ask again if you can truthfully say that the banners the ghouls flew were those of the empire.”
“Well,” Lion said dryly, “if there is a nation other than the Asvelt Empire whose banners bear crossed swords on an azure field, I would reconsider, but I, at least, know of no such land.”
Shaola made a noise of acknowledgment that was almost a groan, then fell silent. Losing none of his air of disdain, Lion went on. “In your wisdom, I am sure you have all realized that we are meant to take the swift annihilation of Rue Shalla as an explicit ultimatum. In other words, this new emperor has, in his generosity, responded to our declaration of war by offering us the chance to reconsider.” He paused. “What will it be, then?” he asked, voice laden with sarcasm. “The path of submission, or of ruin?”
A heavy thud echoed through the room. Its source, as Lion had guessed, was Leisenheimer, who had pounded the table a second time.
“There’s no question! We fight!” he raged. But the only one to display any support for him was the lord of the Fifth City, and even his reaction could hardly have been called enthusiastic. Lion’s impression was that, given the Second City provided him with most of his mineral resources, he felt obligated to at least offer that much. The remaining lords and ladies all wore the same grim expression.
“Come on, now! Have you all lost your tongues?” Leisenheimer exclaimed. “Surely you haven’t all gotten cold feet, not now?” He cast his gaze around the long table, a threatening glint in his eyes.
“I voted for war because I thought our opponent would be the empire,” purred Lady Cassandra of the Twelfth City, hiding her mouth behind an extravagant purple fan. “I don’t recall consenting to do battle with ghouls.”
“Don’t trouble yourself,” Leisenheimer replied, not even looking at her. “No one was expecting anything from a pathetic excuse for a military who let the Royal Army crush them.”
Cassandra gritted her teeth, then turned to glare at Drake, who stood behind her. Drake, for his part, kept his eyes fixed somewhere in midair, as though the matter did not concern him.
From what I hear, Drake consistently opposed the war with Fernest, but his queen, cheerfully stupid as ever, refused to listen to a word he said. Truly, my heart weeps. Even against the Death God’s forces, with a veteran commander like Drake in charge, she could at least have avoided losing eight for every ten of her soldiers. Lion regarded Drake with a faint flicker of sympathy.
Leisenheimer, frustration burning in his eyes, turned to glare at Lion, then, lowering his voice, said, “Don’t tell me even you’ve lost your nerve, Lion.”
“It’s not as simple as that,” Lion replied. “The ghouls have stopped for now, but when they march again, their next destination will be...” He rapped his knuckles on the long table as though knocking on a door. “This seems like a good time to make things clear. If we fail to stop the ghouls here, in the not-so-distant future Sutherland will find itself an imperial territory. That is not a prediction—it is a certainty.” He cast his eyes around the long table as Leisenheimer had done earlier, gauging each of their reactions.
“How many of these so-called ghouls are there, anyway?” the lord of the Fourth City asked. In order to add to the air of chaos, Lion had purposely failed to disclose the total number of ghouls. The question from the lord of the Fourth City had come at the perfect time. He held up five fingers for them all to see.
“Five thousand...” the other lord said. “Not many, to have destroyed Rue Shalla.” His incredulity that, ghouls or not, the Sixth City could have fallen to such a number was written plain on his face. The reactions from the others showed more of the same.
With a crooked smile, Lion shook his head. “You’re missing a figure on the end.”
“Not fifty thousand?! A host that great?!”
Amid the uproar that followed, Leisenheimer sprang to his feet.
“A mere fifty thousand!” he roared. “That is nothing to fear! With our three hundred thousand soldiers waiting to be mobilized, we far outnumber them!” He looked and sounded as though he were spurring on soldiers in battle, and a number of the others responded, adding their agreement.
Oh, he’s a sly one, Lion thought. But then, I suppose I can’t expect better from people who let a brief spell of peace lull them into indolence.
An advantage in numbers meant an advantage in battle. While these were true words, there was something the others still failed to grasp—the foes they were facing were not soldiers, nor even human at all.
“It’s not people we’ll be fighting,” he told them flatly. “Put delicately, they used to be people. It’s safe to assume that neither the numbers game nor conventional strategy and tactics will help us here.”
“We can’t know that until we fight them!” Leisenheimer shot back furiously.
“Do you not understand I am saying that after we fight them, it will be too late?”