It was just before dawn, and from the rooftop of a mansion on the outskirts of the city, Hilbert Farias of the Imperial Registanian Army, 3rd Division, looked out over the sleeping scenery of Barlama.
It seemed quieter than usual, like the city had tired itself out with the previous night’s banquet. The streets were empty and silent, as though cast to the bottom of a dark lake. It would still be a bell or two before the nation’s subjects awoke and began going about their business.
Meanwhile, Hilbert’s men were busy within the mansion, showing no signs of fatigue even after working through the night. All were energized by the thought of seeing the culmination of six long months of subterfuge.
Soon the time would come to execute their long-awaited plan. Even the coolheaded Hilbert had to admit, he was starting to feel a little excited.
Suddenly, one of his men ran up to him, a scrap of paper in his hand.
“Commander Farias. We’ve received an urgent report from the mercenaries we employed as scouts. It seems that the Argyllian imperial fleet is on the move.”
“The imperial fleet, you say?”
Hilbert frowned slightly. For him, it was an exceptionally expressive reaction. What puzzled him most was the messenger’s use of the word “imperial.” He couldn’t help but feel this had something to do with the aura knight he recently encountered in Duchess Knauss’s mansion.
The Argyllian imperial fleet numbered three octopedal transport ships, and probably about a battalion’s worth of Chasseurs on board. Prince Auriol was Argyll’s only heir, and so it made sense that they would go to any lengths to keep him safe.
How strange, then, that Auriol’s escort would turn and leave Barlama at the drop of a hat. Something peculiar was afoot, of that there could be no doubt.
“Is there any indication of their location?”
“Our scouts are tracking them as we speak, sir. At present, the fleet is heading north, up the Cagliari Highway. We also have unconfirmed reports that Count Tegnail’s militia is leading the vanguard.”
“Count Tegnail? Don’t tell me Princess Tishna’s the one behind this.”
Hilbert’s scowl deepened. Girrith Tegnail was one of the few members of Charlgian nobility who stood with the Wicked Princess. In other words, his was the only force she had the power to mobilize.
Plus, the Cagliari Highway led to the northeast of Charlgia—right toward the border with Registan.
“If our army crosses the border, they might end up running into the imperial fleet,” mused Hilbert. “But as far as I can tell, the royal army isn’t working with them.”
There hadn’t been any change to the kingdom’s patrols that Hilbert knew of, yet the fleet’s movement bothered him. It was almost like they were trying to counter an impending Registanian invasion.
But unless they could see the future, there was no way they could know that such an invasion was coming.
“I highly doubt they’re here to fight, but just in case, inform our forces stationed by the border. Order the mercenaries to keep up their observations. Any other questions, report to Javier.”
“Yes, sir.”
The soldier gave a Registanian imperial salute and departed. It was a highly careless move for an agent currently carrying out sabotage on foreign soil, but Hilbert said nothing. The plan was already in its final stages, and there was no need to hide his group’s identity now.
Having apparently heard the man’s report, Anita came over, a small amount of worry in her voice.
“What has the Wicked Princess done this time, Hilbert?”
Hilbert showed no unease at her familiar mode of address. He simply adopted a businesslike smile.
“It’s not her, my lady. The imperial fleet has left the capital.”
“What? Is she with them?”
“No. We’ve been watching the villa, and no one’s gone in or out.”
Anita sighed with relief. “Ah, that’s good, then.”
Cooperating with an agent from an enemy state, Anita clearly harbored no love for her younger half sister. While her own ticket to the throne had been revoked, the black sheep Tishna was granted power in the form of her marriage to Prince Auriol of Argyll. It was not an easy turn of events to stomach.
Because of that hatred, Hilbert and his team of saboteurs had been forced to lay an expensive trap at the private villa of Princess Tishna, despite the location’s complete lack of strategic value. It had come at no small risk to Hilbert and his men, either.
“What are you fussing about, Hilbert? This is the perfect arrangement, is it not? That meddlesome fleet has left Barlama of its own accord, and the crown prince’s fate will soon be sealed. Whatever tricks they are planning now, it is already far too late.”
“Right you are, my lady.”
Hilbert let his mistress’s childish words go by unchallenged. Sure enough, in just a few more hours, the streets of Barlama would be aflame, with many nobles and members of the royal family lying dead. Plus, although she hadn’t an inkling of it yet, Anita would be joining them, once she outlived her usefulness.
“Escort our lady somewhere safe,” he said to one of his men. “Somewhere she can have a good view of what’s coming.”
Although Hilbert was just trying to get rid of her, Anita didn’t look the least bit displeased, and she gladly went where she was told. Once she was gone, Hilbert spoke to another one of his men, this time in a hushed tone.
“How many Chasseurs can we mobilize?”
“We have four inside the city right now. The rest are waiting outside the walls to ambush the royal army.”
“Arsinoes, correct? Be sure to leave me a unit. Don’t worry about specialized tuning; just leave it in the all-purpose configuration.”
“Will you be joining the battle, Commander?”
“Yes. I’m sure our lady won’t like it, but there can be no mistakes. Not after what happened at the party.”
“Understood. I’ll go pass on your orders.”
With a nod from Hilbert, the man left, and Hilbert looked once more out over the city. With its chalk-white walls and pristine rivers, there was little wonder the people of this kingdom were proud of it. There was no sight quite like it in all of Registan.
“What a shame this shall be the last time I see it.”
It was not common for Hilbert to be so moved by sentimentality that he spoke his thoughts when no one was listening. It wasn’t the kingdom he’d grown attached to, but Barlama itself, that had committed no crime and yet soon would lay in ruin and ash.
Hilbert almost felt like he could sympathize with the city’s plight, but he soon put such thoughts out of his mind and restored his focus to the mission at hand.
“How long until the auramancy wears off?” he asked, unusually impatient.
“About half a bell,” was the response. “But I heard it can vary, so expect to see some action soon.”
“What’s that light?”
Far off in the shadowy streets of Barlama, there was a dazzling light, like fire, accompanied by a sound like gunpowder. If one were none the wiser, they would surely think a fire had broken out. A pillar of smoke, stained by the fire’s light, rose off it.
“It… It looks like fireworks, sir.”
“Who would be setting off fireworks at the break of dawn?”
As Hilbert and his men watched, there was a loud sound, like the firing of an enormous cannon, and a blinding flash lit up the sky as bright as day. This time, there could be no mistaking the light’s source. It was a military flare, made for distracting nighttime fiends sensitive to light.
Very soon, the once silent streets came alive, as people flooded out of their houses to see what was causing all the fuss.
“Our scouts have just returned, sir. Shall I send them out to investigate?” asked a confused soldier.
“Hold!”
Hilbert immediately began analyzing the situation. Someone had set off a series of flares, waking the city from its slumber, just as he and his men were poised to cause chaos in the streets. Given the sheer number of flares, it couldn’t have been the work of just one or two people. A commotion on this scale would very quickly spur the royal guard into action, preemptively foiling any plans of a surprise attack.
Whoever these people were, that was their plan all along—to raise the alarm before the operation had even begun.
And as to who was behind it, the answer soon became clear. A short distance from the city center, from a royal villa standing alone, there came the sound of collapsing brick and stone. Brushing aside the rubble, a pure-white mechanical frame stepped out.
“The Royal Chasseur of Charlgia…,” muttered Hilbert, unsettlingly calm, as a daring smile spread across his lips.