“Did they get them?” The knights watched hopefully as the army of dolls burned before their eyes. But the dolls began to move forward again even as their bodies burned, emerging one by one from the inferno. “No...! Those damned things just won’t die!”
“Is that...water?” One of the knights asked, his mouth agape. Each member of the unnatural army marching steadily through the fire was enveloped in a mass of water as if it were a suit of armor. It was clear that they were not living beings. They were silent as they attacked, showing no trace of emotion amid the carnage, only regarding their enemy with cold, hollow eyes.
Next came the Estollian mages’ counterattack. Spells flew through the sky. Without the means the dolls had to protect themselves, the humans comprising Sindoria’s army fell by the hundreds.
“Their magic resistance is a problem,” observed Krista. “Most of our mages specialize in fire magic, which seems to be particularly ineffective. It would be one thing if it were only the water shields, but it seems the dolls themselves can use mana stored in crystals to cast spells.”
“Would you be able to destroy them with your magic?” Yuri asked.
“Perhaps,” replied Krista. “But we also have Reanna the Spell-Mad to deal with. And the more of my own mana I use, the less I have to defend against a large-scale magic assault. What about you, Yuri? Do you think your sword could cut through those dolls?”
“Could it? Certainly. But it doesn’t seem as though being cut into pieces slows them down in the slightest. I could immobilize them by removing both legs, maybe, but doing so would ruin my sword. I wonder if a heavy blunt weapon would be effective...”
Krista’s and Yuri’s opinions only served to reinforce Margrave Reinholt’s judgment that to fight any further would only serve to increase their own side’s casualties. He had already suffered grave losses, but fortunately, most of the warriors on the front lines were nobles drunk on the prospect of easy victory and eager to win some merit by being the first into the fray. He hadn’t been expecting such a crushing defeat, but even the prince himself had told him beforehand that it was of no consequence if a few upstart nobles got squashed. Margrave Reinholt’s personal forces, the mage battalion, and Yuri and the other elite fighters were yet unharmed.
“We should take this to mean that our numerical superiority will give us no advantage,” the margrave deliberated. His plan had been simple: to meet in an open plain where they could use their numbers to their advantage and send the enemy packing. The battle plan had been designed with that in mind as well, but the unnatural dolls Estoll used as soldiers were each equal to one hundred of Sindoria’s human fighters. The nobles in charge of directing the front lines had fled when faced with such an enemy, saving their own skins and leaving Sindoria with no hope of victory. “Madame Krista, join up with the second and third mage battalions. Hit them with a big one. We’re withdrawing to the hill.”
“Yes, sir!”
The Sindorian army moved quickly once the decision was made. They used their combined magic to blind the enemy, then pulled back to the encampments they had prepared ahead of time.
Margrave Reinholt was calm and collected. It was true that the unknown soldiers were a threat, but he would win this war, even if Sindoria herself were to fall. “A direct assault would be foolish,” he said. “That leaves us with two options. We could attack their supply lines, perhaps, or else lure them into the swamp...”
~ ‡ ~
The soldiers in black, the ones beyond Grascas’s command, marched on with inhuman gait. It had looked for a moment like the Sindorian army was on the brink of collapse, but they had transitioned into a hasty retreat, covering their tracks with magic. It was a marvelously executed stratagem. Grascas could only respect the level of discipline displayed by the Sindorians.
Victory had not raised Grascas’s spirits in the slightest. Reanna had led her forces ahead and scattered the front lines into the wind, whereas all he had been able to do was order spells cast at opportune times. As quickly as it had begun, the first battle had come to a close.
“Preposterous,” Grascas spat. “To think the prime minister’s dolls would be that effective in combat.” The nobility of Estoll was well aware that the court wizard they had made prime minister had created the automatons used as labor in the special development zone, but Grascas had only known them to be used for menial labor. The sight of them wielding weapons, casting spells, and crushing the enemy army was new. He knew that Reanna’s black-clad force was made up of dolls, of course, but he had just seen scores of them get torn apart by a mysterious attacker from the sky. He’d had no idea they were so powerful.
There was so much Grascas didn’t know. Was he truly so utterly powerless?
“Didn’t you tell me,” Grascas said, addressing Reanna, “that those dolls were mass-produced from iron and magic crystal? I thought they were supposed to be relatively weak.”
“Hah!” Reanna laughed. “I wouldn’t have brought that rabble along if they weren’t useful, you know!”
Knowing that they could mass-produce dolls like this, suddenly, the idea of invading Sindoria didn’t seem quite so absurd. But something was still bothering Grascas. “This...” he began. “Whatever this is, it isn’t a war.” He looked over at one of the dolls in black. It had taken quite a bit of damage—half of its limbs were missing and it had a good half dozen holes littering its chest. Without hesitating, the doll took hold of a red-hot magic crystal and hurled itself at the enemy. It quickly turned red, and then exploded in a flash of light so hot that Grascas could hear the audible sound of flesh sizzling.
“But isn’t that a good thing?” Reanna asked, smiling cheerfully. “All shall be as His Majesty wills it.”
Grascas simply looked out over the battle in silence.
~ ‡ ~
It was the morning after Aisha had parted ways with her father’s memory. She made her way through the bustle of the crowd to a back alley with few signs of habitation. It seemed to be an old road left behind in the confusion of redevelopment. Stray cats perched on dilapidated roofs stared at her as she moved silently toward the place where she and Izuna had spent time together.
Izuna had seemed badly hurt by Aisha’s decision to part ways with the doll of her father. Aisha was worried that she wouldn’t be here at all. The place they’d played together now felt like Izuna’s territory alone. But as Aisha drew closer, she heard a noise—the creak of the branch as someone’s weight settled into the swing.
“Izuna! You’re here!” Aisha ran out to meet her friend, but the person waiting for her was not the girl she was expecting. It was a grown woman with an air of cold beauty.
“I’m afraid you must excuse me,” the woman said. “I am not the girl you’re looking for.”
“And...who are you?” Aisha asked. For some reason, the sight of this woman put her on guard. She was a perfect beauty with soft, elegant manners and wearing a light-purple dress. She spoke with a kind but dignified air, the very picture of a noblewoman. She peered at Aisha, seemingly confused by the girl’s defensive stance. Aisha took a step backward.
“Oh, has Izuna not told you? My name is Analissia Rainfiel. I am Izuna’s guardian.” She looked at Aisha with cold eyes, like Aisha was entirely without value. She smiled kindly, but something in her eyes looked subtly wicked. It was like she wasn’t looking at Aisha at all.