I had witnessed battle mage tactics in action, once. They had called forth monsters with summoning magic to act as shields, filling in for ordinary soldiers. Nothing major, as beasties went, but even monsters the size of a dog demanded attention in an organized charge on the enemy’s position. Infantry would be forced to fight back, and musketeers would be forced to fire. And since the guns of this age weren’t capable of rapid fire, this would impose a significant delay on the enemy’s offense—a delay that could be exploited by cavalry or footmen to make an advance. It was a simple attrition tactic that gave the battle mages’ mundane comrades the upper hand. Apparently, such methods had become part of every nation’s military playbook once firearms became commonplace.
The other primary battle mage tactic in common use consisted of slinging potent spells from amid the ranks of the infantry. This one was an old stratagem, and unlike the one I’d just gone over, focused directly on wreaking havoc and sowing chaos on the enemy to create an opening for an infantry or cavalry charge. The idea was to use one’s own footmen as shields for the mages. The trouble, of course, was maintaining the correct distance; beyond a certain point, a mage’s control over their spells dropped off considerably, and any attempt to close the gap for a close-range magic assault was bound to invite a faceful of arrows or bullets. Once cannons entered the tactical equation, they’d largely displaced mages from their niche as mobile artillery.
Of these two tactics, the former’s drawback was that you didn’t get much bang for your buck in terms of mana expenditure, since even modestly sized monsters were expensive to summon and, while disruptive, wouldn’t reduce the enemy’s numbers much. The latter tactic’s drawbacks were that it could easily be defended against by barrier magic, and the mana expenditure required to ensure offensive spells actually reached the enemy could sometimes be exorbitant. Of course, that last point could also be seen as a benefit, due to the whole aforementioned “use it or lose it” mentality.
Anyway, what I was getting at was that this was the fundamental battle doctrine drilled into this world’s battle mages. And it seemed that much of the nobility—who were often officers or situated in other commanding roles—subscribed to it as well.
In contrast, my fighting style was probably closer to an adventurer’s. One of my most commonly used spells, Flamma Lux, was a good example. I favored it because it converted mana to heat energy in a fast, energy-efficient manner, allowing me to fire it off quickly.
My development of the spell had probably been influenced by my assumption that I’d be doing magical combat within the confines of mana-sealing wards—magical equipment that created antimagic zones where they were installed. By freezing the ambient mana within them, the wards could essentially jam a mage’s spellcasting ability. However, I could still manage to cast by forcibly expelling my internal mana and channeling it in the split second before it froze. Hence my frequent use of the swift Flamma Lux. Since overusing my internal mana caused me to faint, I wanted to keep my expenditure rate at low as possible.
Thus far, I had yet to come across another mage capable of using the same method to cast under mana-sealing wards, which went a ways toward explaining the widespread belief that a battle mage’s job was done when the ambient mana ran out.
Hang on. Something I couldn’t quite place was prodding at my memory. It felt like a small bone had gotten caught between my teeth...
Ah, whatever. I’d probably remember whatever it was later.
“What other magic can you do?” I asked, realizing that I was rather unfamiliar with Vera-Sylvie’s repertoire. We hadn’t been able to meet when I’d gone out on my tours, and even when we had met, we’d mainly gotten caught up in idle chitchat. And ever since she’d been released, I’d been busy with war preparations.
Vera-Sylvie began to list things off. “I can make vines grow,” she said. “Produce water. Ask birds for favors. Things like that. And...carry heavy things too, I suppose.”
Hmm. Well, that was all stuff I knew—or was pretty sure—I was awful at. So this was what they called being a natural, huh? There was no way I’d ever manage to magically communicate with animals, that was for sure.
“I also...practiced the magic...you showed me,” she said. “I’m not very good...at it, though.”
“The magic I showed you?” I repeated. I didn’t know what she meant, specifically—when she’d still been imprisoned, I’d demonstrated a number of different spells in the process of teaching her magic. Actually, on that topic... “By the way,” I said. “Back when you were in the tower—did you notice anything strange about the iron bars in your window?”
Vera-Sylvie’s old cell was now being used to imprison the regent. Uh, former regent. I had the vague memory of melting the iron bars, once, then hurriedly cooling them back into shape—a rather shoddy job, all told. Looking back, I was certain my physical youth must have influenced my behavior. So if you’d told me that it was my fault that the bars had weakened, well, at the very least, I wouldn’t be able to deny the possibility.
“Why...do you ask?”
I launched into a rundown of the recent tower-related incident.
On account of her despotism and general tyranny, I had imprisoned Acretia, my biological mother, much as I had the rest of the regency. Her cell, in particular, was the same tower in the imperial demesne where she’d imprisoned Vera-Sylvie. However, Count Copardwahl, Acretia’s lover, had chosen to undergo castration if it meant he could be with her in captivity, abandoning his life as a noble in the name of love. Now, if I’d ended the story there, it’d be a real tearjerker romance, wouldn’t it? Uh, except for maybe the “lover” part. That part wasn’t so pure.
The problem was, Acretia had recently pushed Count Copardwahl from the tower’s window, sending him plummeting to his death. Naturally, doing that to your lover who’d undergone castration and imprisonment just to be with you was difficult to explain as anything other than a catastrophic lapse in reason. It had also added more worries to my plate that I really didn’t need, since now I had to change my plans for the count’s holdings.
Strictly speaking, though, it was still unclear whether it had been intentional or an accident. We certainly hadn’t had the time to conduct a thorough investigation. Every window in the aforementioned tower had iron bars installed as a suicide prevention measure, with the exception of one, where they had come loose, which was allegedly the window Count Copardwahl had fallen out of. The problem was, that was the same window I’d broken in through that one time.
From what I recalled, the window was definitely large enough to fit a person through—albeit an adult would definitely have to curl up. An interesting point of note, though, was that the iron bars hadn’t been pulled out cleanly or removed with the frame, but broken in a similar manner to when I’d melted them. That, or they’d been blown out by a bomb or something.
Additionally, while there was something of a simple balcony outside of the window, part of that had been destroyed too. An explosion that had been heard near the tower that lined up with the timing of the incident. For the record, no traces of gunpowder had been found.