Fiarca had unearthed a fiend known as a Boarcroc, a giant beast reminiscent of a crocodile or alligator, with a terrifying charging speed and a powerful jaw capable of biting clean through a Chasseur’s machinery. In some places, they called it the “mercenary-killer,” due to how many lives had been lost to its fearsome maw.
“A crocodile’s no less scary than a dragon when it’s over ten meters long!” shrieked Tishna.
“At least it doesn’t have any special powers to worry about.”
Fiarca launched the Chasseur forward in a bid to finish off the wounded creature. Her earlier auramancy had already dealt a serious wound, and so it was a small matter to draw the Lescar’s sword and drive it into the Boarcroc’s hide.
Tishna watched with a deeply unpleasant look on her face. Part of the reason for her displeasure was the amount of blood and gore, not to mention her proximity to a dangerous beast. Witnessing the death of a living creature, even such a ferocious one as this, was not easy for a princess to endure.
The other reason was that riding back seat in Fiarca’s Chasseur was not exactly a gentle trip. A Chasseur was more akin to a battle tank than a carriage, and this wasn’t helped by the immense g-forces Fiarca’s leaps and landings were causing. The imperial princess was trying to keep things as smooth as possible, but for Tishna, without any aura to protect herself, the cockpit was practically a torture chamber.
Fiarca knew this, of course, but she hadn’t brought Tishna along just to torment her. She had a mission, and the royal princess understood that as well.
“Tishna, the people are panicking. It’s your job to calm them down. You like attention, don’t you? Well, here’s your chance to shine.”
The Chasseur’s sensors transmitted to Tishna a vision of the terrified townsfolk. Fierce beasts had suddenly appeared within the walls, and a strange Chasseur had shown up to fight them. It was no wonder the streets were in chaos.
“I don’t exactly have much practice, but fine, I’ll do it. I can hardly make things any worse.”
More out of desperation than anything else, Tishna grabbed the unit’s comms and took a deep breath.
As the black sheep of the Charlgian royal family, Tishna was rarely invited to speak at official meetings. She’d seldom even spoken in front of a crowd before, let alone a city full of her subjects.
However, nobody but her could take on this task. The townsfolk wouldn’t listen to Fiarca, but Tishna was a royal princess of Charlgia, and these were her people.
“Attention, people of Barlama. I am Tishna Lumedienne Charlgiana, fourth princess of the Kingdom of Charlgia.”
Amplified by the Lescar’s built-in speakers, Tishna’s voice echoed far and wide. The people looked to the skies in shock. But they didn’t seem as terrified of the Wicked Princess as Tishna had feared.
What Tishna didn’t know was that she was actually fairly popular among the common people. The daily newspapers were filled with stories of her exploits, from taking down corrupt nobles, to employing hordes of laborers with her immense wealth, and bringing new sweets and medicines to the market. Most commoners didn’t even know the names and faces of their own princesses, but Tishna was the sole exception.
So when she appeared in the city’s hour of need, not a soul was surprised. In fact, it was almost like they had been expecting her to be behind the chaos somehow.
“The city is currently under attack by vicious fiends released by agents of the empire of Registan,” she announced. “I repeat, the fiends are servants of the Registan Empire.”
When they heard her words, the faces of the townsfolk suddenly changed. Everyone knew that Barlama was currently hosting the Shrumland Alliance summit, and that the supposed enemy of that alliance was the empire of Registan. Hearing that Registan was behind the attacks made sense to a lot of people.
“But do not be afraid,” Tishna went on. “My fiancé, Auriol Ref Argenteia of the Argyll Empire, stands with us. And this Chasseur, the Lescar, will eliminate all foes in the name of the Charlgian royal family. Fine men and women of the watch, please protect this city’s people!”
While Tishna gave her rousing speech, Fiarca raised the Lescar’s sword up to the sky. The unit bore the seal of the Charlgian royal family, and so nobody doubted that the voice really belonged to their princess.
Suddenly, a chorus of roars erupted from all across the city, as the sleeping fiends finally awoke. Barlama was blessed with fresh water, and sparkling canals crisscrossed the streets like a mesh. Registan had used that fact to place the fiends in strategic locations ahead of time.
“A lovely speech, Your Highness. I’m impressed,” said Fiarca.
“Thank you…,” replied Tishna coldly. With the smirk on Fiarca’s face, it was impossible to take her praise seriously. “But anyway, can you really handle all these fiends? There’s a lot, you know.”
“Probably not.”
“What?!”
Tishna was horrified by how quickly Fiarca threw in the towel. Unfortunately, she didn’t seem to be joking.
“That Boarcroc would usually require a squadron of Chasseurs to take down,” she said. “Even a custom-model Chasseur can’t hope to take on this many fiends in one go.”
Tishna was lost for words, but Fiarca wasn’t lying. In terms of auramancy ability, the girl’s skills were almost foul play, but a Chasseur was a machine, and the simple, unfortunate truth was that machines had their limits.
“On top of that, I have to hold back because there’s a civilian in the back seat,” Fiarca went on. “Realistically, it’s just not doable.”
“But then…why…?”
Tishna couldn’t find what to say. She had thought that with Fiarca on her side, anything was possible. Together, she and Fiarca had tried everything. They had played every last card. But at the end of the day, they only had one Chasseur. This was an incontrovertible fact. That simple fact would be responsible for Barlama’s inevitable downfall.
“Which is why we’re going to start thinking unrealistically,” said Fiarca, grinning.
Then Tishna noticed it.
From out of the corner of the Lescar’s viewing port, an enormous figure swept the sky—a wolf on crimson wings. A jet-black Chasseur, capable of shapeshifting and flying unaided. Without the slightest effort, it scaled the impregnable walls of Barlama and landed by Tishna’s villa, where its master was waiting.
Tishna knew its name, for she had seen the beast many times before—in the nightmares of her memories.
“Vildhjärta!”
Fiarca looked to it, and her violet eyes glimmered with hope.
“It’s all down to you now, Ras. You’re my last battalion.”