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“You don’t know the meaning of ‘gentle,’ do you?”
“Coming from you.” Meteia cracked a wry grin, but her shoulders slumped a little, and her ears flattened. “I should apologize. I let her die. The fourth archpriestess.”
“That’s not your fault. She would never have let herself be taken alive.” Hiro’s eyes took on a distant look. “There’s only so much you can do for someone who wants to die.”
Meteia opened her mouth to say something, but before she could form the words, Hiro spoke again.
“Don’t worry about Baum. I’ve taken care of it.”
“Hm?”
“The archpriestess’s disappearance caused...well, let’s call it a stir. I took the liberty of putting forward a replacement.”
Meteia’s eyes widened in surprise, but they soon softened in acceptance. Hiro had always thought two moves ahead. No doubt he had made alternative preparations as well, just in case Straea had survived.
“Is she someone you can trust?”
Hiro met her gaze. “I hope so. She’s you.”
“Pardon?”
“I needed someone the people of Baum wouldn’t question, and you seemed like the best candidate. After I told them the Spirit King had brought you back from the dead to fulfill the role, they seemed eager to have you.”
The people of Baum would accept more or less anything if they were told it was the will of the Spirit King—or at least, they would if told as much by someone with Hiro’s status. They would not have believed his claim if it came from some villager, but the name of a Lord of Heaven carried weight. After all, the Lords were nigh unto gods.
Hiro looked on as Meteia held her head in her hands, his eyes narrowing fondly. “It’s what Rey wanted.”
Meteia’s eyes widened at the sound of her mistress’s name.
“You were always her choice to succeed her. If you hadn’t died in battle, you would have.”
“I...” Meteia trailed off, caught between her guilt at failing her mistress and the weight of Hiro’s nomination. “I am not worthy.”
“Of course you are. In fact, I can prove it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you never wonder why you were able to enter Anfang Forest? Don’t worry. The role of archpriestess will be going to the person who was always meant to have it.”
When Hiro was summoned back to Aletia, he had encountered both Liz and Cerberus in Anfang Forest—a sacred place only the royal family could enter. In truth, the Spirit King had vanished by then, allowing anybody to enter the forest, but there was no harm in a white lie. It was still true that Rey had chosen Meteia as her successor.
Meteia looked at him moodily. “Very well. Consider yourself spared a beating.”
She raised her arm. Blood sprayed behind her. A monster had seen what it thought was an opportunity and pounced, only to be cut to ribbons. Around them, the battle was reaching an end. The monsters’ front line had broken before the imperial offensive and begun to flee in a full-scale rout.
“Still,” Meteia added, “I won’t soon forget you adding to my workload.”
“Call it punishment for hiding yourself.”
“Are you really that angry about it?”
“No. I’m glad you’re alive.”
Hiro’s voice fell on her ears like a warm blanket. She didn’t need to probe him to see he was telling the truth. Her tail began to wag.
“Oh, I almost forgot. You’re spared a beating from me...but I make no guarantees about Liz.”
She grasped him by the head again and set off across the battlefield, seeking out her new mistress.
＊＊＊＊＊
“Another day, and we still breathe.”
Chest heaving, the lilac-skinned man thrust his sword into the ground. Sweat drenched him from head to toe. It poured down his face like a waterfall, but he made no effort to wipe it away. It would make no difference.
“But we’ll be back at it tomorrow. And it’ll be worse.”
Garda swept the field around him with a piercing gaze. Liz’s reinforcements had helped to redress the numerical disparity, but they could not relieve the allied forces’ exhaustion. If anything would thwart them in the battles yet to come, it would be fatigue.
“The men are on their last legs,” he grunted. “The gods only know whether they’ll have the strength to stand come the dawn.”
As he took a moment to catch his breath, a cry issued from his right-hand side. He spun, sword at the ready.
“Release me, Huginn! I will kill him if it’s the last thing I do!”
“You can’t, Miss Luka! How are we supposed to hold formation without you?!”
Huginn had Luka’s arms pinned behind her back in a desperate restraint. Ever since Hiro had released the latter from their contract, she had thought of little but killing him.
“I don’t care! I will not rest until Vajra knows the taste of his flesh!”
“Just wait till the battle’s done! Then you can whack him all you like, I promise!”
Garda pressed an exasperated hand to his forehead and turned to Muninn. “Have the wounded carried to the rear. They’ll only get themselves killed if we let them keep fighting.”
“On it, chief. I’ll pass that on right away.”
“And we need to put our ranks in order. Give the monsters a hearty push and then fall back. Then do it again, and again, until their line breaks.”
“You sure? I’d have thought we’d be done for the day.”
“By all rights, it’s time for them to fall back, but...” Garda squinted against the rays of the setting sun. “Recall that they can see in the dark. No harm in encouraging them to leave well enough alone.”
“Consider it done, chief.”
With a firm nod, Muninn drove his heels into his horse’s flank and galloped off across the battlefield. Soon, he was out of sight. Garda drew a deep breath and let it go, then hoisted his greatsword onto his shoulder and charged once more into the fray.