Military headquarters were chaotic on any front line, but they were especially busy when a war neared its conclusion. Even after the fighting was all said and done, a flood of bureaucrats would sweep in to assist with the occupation.
Currently, the strategists were collating information brought by messengers from all directions, examining each piece, inserting it where it belonged, and endeavoring to maintain a current map of the battlefield. Beyond that, they would need to tabulate the casualties and arrange transport for the prisoners. Menial tasks like corpse disposal tended to fall by the wayside during war.
Either way, information that came to Marshal Valerian Ein Aubigne was confirmed and accurate.
So when the news he’d been waiting for arrived, he looked genuinely relieved.
“Sir, we’ve definitely broken through the elven defenses. Enemy resistance is down seventy percent. That seems slightly high, but the lack of strong fighters on their side seems to have had a significant impact. We believe the remaining forces are in hiding throughout the city. How shall we proceed?”
“Avoid unnecessary casualties. Holed up guerrillas are no real threat, but those moving freely about the city using disruptive tactics could hurt us. Expand our occupied territory, apply pressure, flush the elves into the open—and into our nets. Avoid fighting indoors. Make sure stronger individuals are placed in each squad sent into the city itself.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll send word.”
“Any elves who break through the perimeter are undoubtedly on suicide runs. Keep reminding all posts to remain vigilant.”
“Understood.”
“We’ve cleared a path, but is there any response from the castle?”
“None. Silent as ever.”
Normally, Valerian’s expression would have darkened here.
It was hard to believe the castle was completely abandoned. Odds were the elf elite were defending it. And officers from all corners would have retreated there. And there was the elf king himself.
The elemental that king commanded had just recently eliminated the Firestorm Scripture’s subleader. Though not quite a hero, he had stood on the threshold—and died easily.
And the Theocracy had records from a century ago showing that a Black Scripture team composed entirely of hero-class members had been demolished by the elf king’s raw power. The strategy they’d employed was lost to time, but it appeared to have worked—so this foe was hardly invulnerable. But the armies Valerian commanded would be little use against him—arguably, the war with the elves had yet to clear its greatest obstacle.
But—their ace had arrived.
“Keep me updated. We’re ready to carry out an assault?”
“Yes, they’re awaiting orders.”
With that word, Valerian rose from his seat.
“Then we’ve done our part. Good work, men. Have them remain on standby a good distance from the castle and focus on your other tasks. I’ll report to our guest.”
He left the tent, headed for another. The owner of that tent was not big on visitors and not someone you could afford to annoy.
Valerian spoke from outside the tent flap.
“Pardon me. May I come in?”
“Go ahead.”
A ready response.
Valerian took a deep breath before stepping in.
Not because their guest was a threat. They’d met upon her arrival and he found her altogether rational. But he always had to brace himself before facing any of the Black Scripture’s heroes—individuals who far surpassed the realm of mortal man. He knew she would not harm him, but he had to act as if stepping into the cage of a carnivorous beast.
And that wasn’t the only reason.
The guest within was not only a powerful hero, they were exceptional even by Theocracy standards.
It was possible for races to crossbreed, but within the Theocracy, this was taboo.
Their country existed to ensure a bright future for humans alone, and all other races—even humanoid ones—were their enemies.
But that stance had begun a mere century ago. Before that, the Theocracy had been mindful of the welfare of other humanoid races and explored the idea of fighting alongside them.
That had all changed one day—and this guest of theirs was a big part of the reason why.
She was the Theocracy’s strongest warrior and possessed a lengthy life span. She had been trained by one reputed to be their divine protector—about whom little was known beyond their existence. That was the sum of what Valerian had been told about her.
But in that sea of uncertainty lay a few convictions.
For one thing, when he had been promoted to marshal, he had been specifically told to never cross her. Not that he was foolish enough to try and act superior around the king of the jungle.
He peeled back the tent flap and found a basic chair and bed, a shelf and a table with a helmet on top. From the outside, it looked like any other tent, but the furnishings within were rather high quality. All brought from the Theocracy via Teleportation, their quality far beyond what lay in the marshal’s own tent.
She was in the center, armor gleaming—hopping up and down.
“May I ask what you’re doing?” he asked, baffled. Some unique ritual, perhaps?
“Mm? Nothing in particular. I just felt the need to stay in motion.”
“I see.”
She hopped for another few seconds, then stopped.
“No need to stand on formalities,” she said. “Technically, you outrank me.”
Despite what her words, she was not exactly acting like she was speaking to a superior officer.
“I’m afraid that is unacceptable. You are the Theocracy’s finest and disciple of the divine protector.”
“So stiff! But suit yourself. I take it seeing you here means what I think it means?”
“Indeed. Only the castle remains. We assume surviving forces are gathering there…”
“I’ll handle ’em. But I’m only targeting the one man, so don’t expect me to make a clean sweep.”
“Understood. We’ll leave him in your hands.”
The girl they called No Death–No Life smiled.
Valerian felt compelled to avert his eyes.
That bloodlust was not for him. He knew that. But he could not suppress the fear.
“Oh, sorry. Can I ask one thing?”
“Certainly. If I can answer…”
“Good. If I’m being honest, I don’t have a personal grudge against the son of a bitch. He didn’t do nothing to me directly, you know? Maybe you could argue he was never much of a father, but from his perspective, that ain’t exactly a fair accusation. Odds are he doesn’t even know I exist. It’s my mother who’s got it in for him. The way I feel here is all stuff she drilled into me.”
He had no idea how to respond to this. Was she looking for agreement or not? And she was the elf king’s daughter?! Then who was her mother? So many questions.
Valerian was too lost to provide any answers, but she just kept talking.
Ah.
This was a monologue. She wasn’t expecting any reply.
“Then should I turn this rage back on her? On the one who stuck me with it? Alas, she is dead, and I cannot do so. Perhaps I merely loathe my father in her stead. But to rid myself of this grudge, my best option might be to go after something my mother loved.”
The tone had changed.
Valerian stole a look at her face.
Still, she smiled. No change there.
But—was this really a smile?
He gulped.
Fearing that one false word from him would cause the Theocracy’s doom.
She caught his tension, and her smile turned sheepish.
“…Ah, this again. I do apologize. Did I spook you? I’m not trying to take out my grudge on the Theocracy, I promise. I mean, when everything’s said and done, I do like the place.”
“D-do you? Good to hear.”
He barely managed to get the words out, but his relief was palpable.
“It’s just… I dunno. I wonder if I’ll actually be free once I resolve the grudge my mother branded me with. The more I talk about it, the more awkward I feel. It’s an emotional time for me.”
“That’s understandable.”
“If we knew each other better, you could totally ask, How old are you?”
“I’m afraid the thought did not occur to me.”
Valerian bowed his head, but she didn’t seem concerned.
“I wonder what my mother thought.”
“Mm?”
“……The weak are trampled. So be strong. There’s nothing wrong with that idea. Part of me thinks no child needs training that intense, but it’s not like I’m the only child forced to train at death’s door from an early age. There could be people out there who’ve trained harder than I ever have in pursuit of power. Which means these thoughts are my weakness.”
“That’s…certainly difficult to say for sure, I suppose.”
Did she want a yes or no? How could he respond without vexing her? That was the one thought on his mind, and thus his answer was entirely meaningless.
Perhaps that came through loud and clear. Her smile was genuine this time.
“Once this is done, maybe I should go through our old records. Things lost on me back in the day might become clear in someone else’s eyes. I’m sure…there’s something left. Some clue to tell me how she felt about me… But it’s high time I got moving.”