It helped, of course, that virtually every southern noble in the empire owed her grandfather some kind of debt. That was a card that Kiork, something of an outsider, could never play. As he was the sixth princess’s uncle, there were plenty of nobles trying to curry favor with him, but most had ulterior motivations, and he would not have trusted any of them. The difference in reception was to be expected. Liz had only recently risen to prominence, while House Loeing had held its status for generations, building up social capital and solidifying its position over decades of maintaining peace in the south. Kiork had no intention of being petty about the matter, however. Everyone had their place. So long as he played his part to the best of his ability, respect would come in time. All he could do was carry out his duty diligently and conscientiously, hoping that would win the southern nobles’ trust.
He returned his attention to Lady von Loeing. She had a promising future ahead of her, he thought.
He watched as she attended to a succession of messengers. A great many of them were coming and going, mostly because she and Kiork were trying to light a fire under the local nobles. A unified force of forty thousand was a potent tool for ensuring loyalty. That was the reason behind their leisurely pace. They were unlikely to make it in time for the final battle even if they hurried, so it made more sense to do what they could en route. If they continued to accrue the support of the nobility, their ranks would swell enough to give any ambitious neighbors second thoughts, and they would be able to contribute more if the battle was still going when they arrived.
“Fine work, my lady,” Kiork said once she was done. “Did you learn from your grandfather, by any chance?”
“No. He never taught me anything about diplomacy. I think he hoped I would live a normal life, outside the military.” Von Loeing lowered her eyes sadly for a moment before her face brightened again. “But I always admired him growing up, and I’ve tried my hardest to live up to his example.” Her cheeks reddened. “Not to sound conceited, of course! I mean to put in just as much effort serving Lady Celia Estrella.”
Kiork’s eyes widened. She burned with a sincere desire to better herself, remaining conscious of her immaturity and working to overcome it rather than letting it inflate her ego. He would have to strive to match her example.
Her eyes softened. “Of course, things would not have gone nearly as smoothly without your help.”
“You flatter me, my lady. This is your hard work, not mine.”
“Not at all. The nobles understand that it wouldn’t be wise to turn against the royal heir’s uncle.”
Kiork caught her implication: It was him the nobles were trying to please. They were only using her as an intermediary because they were wary of approaching him directly and potentially making an enemy of the south.
“That isn’t to say your only contribution is your status, of course!” She grew flustered, fearing she had caused offense. “Everything we have accomplished is a testament to your strength of character.”
Kiork smiled wryly. “I am under no illusions about my position, believe me. We must only take care that we are not being used.”
He faced northward, his thoughts turning to his niece far beyond the horizon. How quickly that little girl had risen beyond his reach, her status far exceeding his own. He was not jealous. If anything, he was proud. She had grown up to be just as valiant as her mother and just as beloved by the people. It was a tragedy that Primavera had not lived to see who her daughter had become, but she was undoubtedly looking down fondly from above.
Only a few short years ago, Liz had been helpless without his protection. Now it was he who was relying on her name. How quickly times changed, he thought. How soon the ages turned. The wave of change was already lapping at his feet. Once this war was done, his time would be over and the next generation would take the stage. A glance at Lady von Loeing only reinforced that premonition. Soon, he would pass the torch and retire into obscurity.
“But enough dwelling on all that,” he said. “Why don’t I tell you about the day I first saw my niece?”
“I’d be delighted!”
Kiork had to smile. Perhaps the future really was bright after all.
＊＊＊＊＊
Near Malaren, in the northern territories
The snow had thawed and the water had seeped into the ground, turning it to mud. Now that it had been churned by countless boots, it was sticky enough to snatch a man’s feet out from under him.
Yet again, the humans and the monsters crashed together. The former bellowed battle cries to rouse their spirits, but the latter would not be outdone, answering with animalistic roars. Soldiers swung swords all but snapped off at the hilt, staved monsters’ heads in with broken spears, shattered everything that barred their way to smithereens. Retreat did not even cross their minds. They forged ahead without looking back.
Herma watched proudly from afar. The first son of House Heimdall, one of the three foremost houses of the north, he had been entrusted with defending the region by Second Prince Selene. While widely considered capable, he was not a prodigy. Natural talent had never been his forte. He was, however, proud of his ancestry, protective of his liege, and no stranger to effort. He had earned his position as Selene’s advisor by remaining humble and devoting himself to his training, earning a reputation as one of the hardest-working men in the empire.
“Not far now until Friedhof.”
Herma and his forces had butchered every monster before them on their way to Malaren. With the spirit weapons they had received from King Surtr, they had been more than a match for the creatures of the Sanctuarium. Their numbers were few, but morale was high, and they had made remarkable progress in very little time. There was another reason for their success, however: The monsters had no commander to speak of. Without a unifying mind in charge, all their numbers made for little more than a mindless mob, nowhere near a match for the well-trained soldiers of the north. Nonetheless, resistance had intensified as Herma and his troops approached Malaren. Now that the wall towered before him, it was all he could do to calm his heart.
“Tear open their flanks,” he ordered. “Retract the center until our wings push them back, then charge.”
There was no need to rush. He had the upper hand. With the monsters so uncoordinated, the battlefield was his to control as he saw fit. It would be a simple matter to wipe them out steadily and thoroughly, and then he could see to securing the surrounding area. Yet Friedhof towered over him, and he was not the kind of man who could ignore it.
“The task force is ready to move,” Phroditus reported.
“Good,” he said. “Would you take command?”
“Happily. I’ll bring honor to House Heimdall.”
Her words bordered on arrogance, but Herma only narrowed his eyes fondly. While he was no prodigy, his sister was another matter. Her talents lay mostly in warfare, but perhaps half a dozen people in the entire north could hold a candle to her on the battlefield, and he had instructed her rigorously in strategy in case he ever perished on the field. She did not have much aptitude for politics or diplomacy, but she absorbed military knowledge like a sponge.
“I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “Then go. Show the monsters at the wall what we’re made of. Remember, though, your job isn’t to wipe them out. If things get dangerous, fall back at once.”
Phroditus scoffed. “What kind of fool do you take me for? I would not fritter away His Highness’s soldiers.”
“Good. Now, get going. The more of their attention you draw, the better the front line will be able to breathe.”
She nodded. “Take care.”
With that, she mounted up and rode off to join her task force.