If it hadn’t been for his clan father Fárbauti’s training and guardianship and for Loptr pushing him forward, he would’ve undoubtedly been known as “Sköll, Devourer of Blessings” for the rest of his life. Without Felicia, he wouldn’t have been able to understand and communicate with anyone, and it was only thanks to Sigrún and Skáviðr that he’d managed to survive battles he’d normally have had no hope of winning. Without Ingrid, he never would’ve figured out how to apply his knowledge of modern technology to the world of Yggdrasil. Without Linnea and Jörgen, the Steel Clan’s government never would’ve run as smoothly as it did. Of course, he’d be remiss to ignore the strength of the intelligence network Botvid and his twin daughters Kristina and Albertina had built. And it went without saying, but if Mitsuki hadn’t been there supporting him every step of the way, his heart would’ve succumbed to the harshness of this world long ago. Yuuto believed with every ounce of his soul that he owed his current life of peace entirely to his comrades—both the ones that were still here with him, and the ones who had since been lost.
“I see. You certainly have more than enough military prowess to make up for your soft nature.”
“That’s not what I meant, but okay,” Yuuto replied with a weak smile. Correcting that misunderstanding in front of everyone would be too embarrassing, so instead, he offered up a different statement. “Fine, I admit I might possess some talent for commanding an army.” He cringed inwardly as he spoke those words, but it was better than earning ire from his wives for being stubbornly modest. At his age, he’d long since learned that being a little proud was worth keeping the conversation smooth and the peace undisturbed.
“In comparison, Nozomu may resemble me on a surface level, but plainly speaking, he lacks the sense for tactics, he doesn’t have any cheats he can rely on, and he has no Einherjar at his disposal. Basically, he’s got nothing.” Even though it had been Yuuto himself who’d thrown Nozomu to the wolves, he honestly felt sorry for the boy. Even now, he wondered if he should’ve given him more help.
He had more to say on the matter, however. “Well, if it’s him we’re talking about, I believe he’ll pull through. Like his old man, he’s plain and average in a lot of ways, but he has one quality that’ll make him an even better king than me.”
“Oh? Better than you, Father?” Fagrahvél’s eyes went wide with surprise. Looking around the room, Felicia, Sigrún, and Linnea also looked shocked. It seemed they hadn’t noticed, which in turn surprised Yuuto. He couldn’t help but grin as he spoke.
“Yeah, he possesses something truly amazing. As long as he uses it, a little setback like this should be easy for him to manage.”
However, neither father nor son had any way of knowing what the other was thinking.
“Aargh, dammit! I talked big back there, but I’m completely screwed!” Within the fortress, Nozomu held his head in his hands in agony, his expression that of a man driven to desperation. His reaction was somewhat understandable. After all, he only had around a thousand men at his disposal, with the Múspell Unit only making up one hundred of those. The rest were all hired mercenaries, each proficient in their own right, as one would expect of career soldiers, but their loyalty was only as deep as the pockets of those that employed them. When they’d finished putting in their hours, they wouldn’t hesitate to turn tail. The only territory he held was the one fortress, and even at a perfunctory glance, the enemy’s forces numbered in the tens of thousands. “What the hell am I supposed to do in this situation?!” were his honest thoughts at that very moment.
“Now, now, calm down, big bro.” Rungr, his younger brother from another mother, gave a wry grin as he patted Nozomu on the shoulder. He didn’t seem to be taking this seriously at all.
“Sorry I can’t be as calm as you.” Nozomu unconsciously shot Rungr an envious glare. His little brother seemed to be able to remain cool and composed at all times, no matter the situation, and Nozomu was jealous of that ability beyond belief. In his eyes, it was the one quality required above all else to command an army.
“Well, my role here comes with far less responsibility. Makes it a lot easier,” Rungr said with a shrug.
“That may be so, but regardless of who’s responsible, this situation couldn’t be any worse,” Nozomu replied with a heavy sigh. What awaited him and his siblings from here on out was nothing less than genuine warfare. To lose meant death—for himself, his siblings, and his subordinates.
“I don’t quite agree with that. Actually, I’d say it’s more than possible for you to win this thing if I’m being honest,” Rungr returned.
“What?! Really?! How did you come to that conclusion?” Nozomu blurted out.
“Well, for starters, there’s the fact that our father, as overprotective as he is, left us here all by ourselves,” Rungr explained.
“Huh? ...Oh.” Belatedly, he realized. Now that he really gave it some thought, the reality of their situation was obvious. His father Suoh Yuuto was strict when he had to be and cruel when it was called for, but he was a total softie when it came to his family and comrades. He would never send his own kids out on the battlefield if he thought it was hopeless. Nozomu had been in such a panic that he hadn’t even noticed that simple fact. He felt another wave of revulsion at his own inadequacy—but, on the other hand, that meant there was a glimmer of hope. “In other words, we have a fair chance of winning.”
“Right.” Rungr nodded.
“I see, so that’s the real reason he’s so calm,” Nozomu realized. “But what exactly can we do to turn this around, then?”
“Heck if I know.” Rungr shrugged dismissively. An immediate response. “I thought about it all night, and I couldn’t come up with anything decent. Ha ha.” Rungr chuckled as if it didn’t concern him in the least. He seemed like he’d thought of everything, yet in reality, he wasn’t thinking anything at all. “That in itself takes skill,” Nozomu idly thought.
“Good grief, I’m surrounded by idiots over here,” Sigrún’s daughter Wiz said with an exasperated sigh. Even though she was the younger sibling, her gaze made Nozomu feel like they were being looked down upon.
“Oh? Well then, do you have any ideas?” Nozomu quizzed her.
“Naturally,” Wiz replied self-assuredly, pounding her chest, which was just as woefully flat as her mother’s. “According to Sun Tzu, ‘In the practical art of war, the best thing of all is to take the enemy’s country whole and intact; to shatter and destroy it is not so good. So, too, it is better to recapture an army entire than to destroy it, to capture a regiment, a detachment, or a company entire than to destroy them. Hence to fight and conquer in all your battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy’s resistance without fighting.’” Wiz recited the saying as smoothly as if she were reading from a script. Her ability to recall such quotes verbatim was just as curious as ever, but Sun Tzu had also been a crown prince who’d been groomed to be a king, so Nozomu felt like he understood Sun Tzu on a personal level.
“In other words, fighting is foolish, so try to make the enemy submit without fighting?” he said.
“Precisely.” Wiz gave an emphatic nod.
“I see...” Wiz was right. Against ten thousand men, crushing the enemy without fighting them was the only hope their paltry army of one thousand had. “Then how should we do that, specifically?”
“Huh?” Wiz’s expression went blank. Apparently, she hadn’t thought that far ahead. “A-Ah, well, you know... Um...” Her eyes began to dart back and forth. She was practically a savant when it came to scheming and strategizing, but as for putting her ideas into practice? Not so much... “Well, she wouldn’t be as cute if she were perfect all the time,” Nozomu reasoned.
“Ah, I see! So that was an option all along!” Suddenly, his red-haired, chisel-faced brother Arness, who’d been deep in thought all this time, spoke up. Younger than Rungr by a single month, he was Linnea’s child and Yuuto’s third son.
“You’ve got a good idea?” Nozomu asked.
“Yeah. What if we spread the word that you’ve returned home to Tarshish?” Arness explained.
“Me?” Nozomu frowned, not understanding what he was implying. What part of that was a good idea? That would mean Babel would be even more gung ho to crush him. It was far too dangerous to do that without a decent counterstrategy.
“You don’t get it? Seriously? Look, you’ve got this right here, don’t you?” In exasperation, Arness pointed at Nozomu’s chest, where a cylindrical stamp, gleaming gold, hung from a string around his neck. That was enough of a hint for even Nozomu to realize what Arness was getting at. It was the stamp that Yuuto had given him during his coming-of-age ceremony, claiming it was a memento of his stepmother—
“I see now. You mean I should utilize the power of the þjóðann.” The seal he wore was proof of one holding the authority of the þjóðann. To Nozomu, Mitsuki was the only mother he’d ever had, so having another one somewhere seemed like a fairy tale to him. Nonetheless, at least publicly, Nozomu was the sole inheritor of the divine empress’s blood.
“Yeah. I mean, I don’t really get it since I never lived there, but Yggdrasilians see the þjóðann as some kind of big, important figure, don’t they?”
“Seems so.”
“Right, so now’s the perfect time to become divine.”
“Divine, huh...?” Nozomu forced a laugh. He didn’t exactly feel good about it, but it might allow him to more effectively rally the troops. “But I’m also the tyrant Suoh-Yuuto’s son, so how’s that going to work?” Yuuto didn’t exactly have a great reputation within the Steel Clan. Since Yuuto had refused to use modern technology, living conditions had dramatically worsened in the years following their escape from Yggdrasil, and the people had despised him for it. Nozomu, who knew the true reasons behind the decline, thought it was incredible enough that Yuuto had managed to keep food on the table for several hundred thousand people even after moving to a foreign land, but the people would never be able to understand that. As Yuuto’s son, it made him incredibly frustrated, but at any rate, that was the reality he had to contend with.