9

“What should we do with this machine?”

"Hmm, destroying it’d be a waste… but hauling it’s a pain too."

Even if we recover the enemy unit, we’ll end up replacing everything except the generator. Still, considering the risk of it being stolen again right here, destruction might be best. But then again… if this thing might actually be useful in battle, it feels a bit too hasty to just scrap it.

“How’s the rest of the scouting team doing?”

"Most of them made it back to the fortress, I think. Just a few from the twenty-sixth squad still moving around, seems like."

"Twenty-sixth squad… Wish Batis were here."

"Hahaha! Looks like I’ve got good luck today!"

Just as I’m wondering what to do, a voice echoes from the woods.

I turn the camera toward where the voice came from, and there it is—a shadow clinging to a tree branch.

“Batis. What’re you doing out here, huh?”

“What’s it look like? I’m a scout. I came to deliver the latest intel. Enemy forces have picked up on Salsa’s intel and are pulling back slowly. Commander Soare’s ordering all units currently in the woods to regroup at Soare’s fortress.”

Enemy forces pulling back? Maybe Salsa’s reinforcements are doing the trick. Then again, if they’re coming from Salsa’s side, that means the other side’s plan fell apart.

“And that’s why I’m stuck with this damn machine!”

“Yeah, carrying it’s no joke. Can’t lug a prisoner too, so we can’t just toss Bnois in.”

“Then I’ll just have to ride it myself.”

“Hmph. Guess so… but it’s enemy tech. Might not even work the same way.”

“Gotta figure it out.”

“Then figure it out, I guess.”

Can’t exactly tell someone who’s got their eyes shining with hope to just get off, can I?

“Leave it to me.”

Batis leapt down from the branch and slipped into the enemy craft’s cockpit.

Now then, how similar is the mechanism gonna be?

“Batis, how’s it look?”

“Just different button placements, seems like. Starting it up.”

The machine fired up smoothly when Batis touched the controls.

“System’s almost identical. Can probably walk it just fine.”

“Then let’s head back to Soare, like this.”

“Yeah, Eld, you lead the way. If we go in with this thing, we’ll be getting shot at.”

“True enough.”

“Benoît, we’re heading back to Soare. Just like that.”

“Got it. I’ll follow along.”

The enemy craft pulling back means this fight’s winding down. My score’s four downed, one captured. Even Bodwan’s captain only managed two—so not bad at all. Might want to start thinking what prize I’ll take.

Mulling that over, we pressed on through the forest path, and Soare’s fortress came into view.

The outer wall was a mess—cracked and crumbling from repeated attacks. The gate looked ready to fall any second.

All the cannons that should’ve been mounted atop the wall were shattered beyond repair. You could tell just by looking how fierce the battle had been.

As we drew closer, the fortress stirred up a fuss inside. Probably because of Batis’s machine still flying around. No one normally captures a craft like that.

"Mr. Bnois, we’ll stay here—could you go tell the garrison lads what’s going on?"

Got it.

I stopped in my tracks and handed off the duty of contacting Bnois to someone else.

Benoit’s approaching the fortress, calling out to the soldier perched atop the outer wall. A moment later, the fortress gate creaks open, slow as a tired sigh.

You two can just go on in, no problem.

Understood.

Understood.

With permission from Brother Bnois, we slip slowly into the fortress.

The moment you step through the gate, you’re in a square. Machines that came back earlier are lined up, waiting by the fortress. Horses are gathered nearby—ready to be mounted at a moment’s notice, for scouting duty.

The machines lined up had only minor damage, but there were scratches all over—looked like they’d seen heavy use. In a way, the one most worn might be mine, with the front of the cockpit completely gone.

All around each machine, a swarm of mechanics worked nonstop—repairing, refueling, hands moving fast.

I was still wondering where to park mine when a soldier with a flag arrived, guiding us to our spots.

Following his lead, I lined up my machine just like the others and climbed down. Soon after, Monsieur Bunois arrived too, having left his horse with the stablehands.

“Eld, you’re back.”

“Good to see you, Monsieur Bunois. Feels like we’ve hit a breather, huh?”

“Don’t get too relaxed. But yes—we’ve held them back. That’s a win.”

Right now, the outpost scouts are chasing after the imperial forces pulling back. Probably checking if they’re actually crossing the border. If they’re just holding position in the buffer zone, we might get sent out again. Can’t let our guard down yet.

“Eld.”

Batis, who’d been piloting the enemy machine, cut the engine and jumped down to me.

“Batis, you’re back. Good work.”

“Yeah, and you’re the one riding that thing—must’ve been pretty bad, huh?”

The co-pilot’s taken over Armunale. I can guess what happened. Open cockpit, that kind of thing.

Then again, I suppose I got my chance to shine because of it.

“Good news—no serious injuries reported. You’re safe, right?”

“Good to hear.”

"Was it all right on your end? Sounded like a proper scrap back there."

"Just been sneaking around as a scout, that’s all. Orders from above weren’t exactly tight, so mostly just dart in, poke, and run. Still, if Eld hadn’t shown up, we’d’ve been in a real pickle."

"Glad you made it."

We were still talking when a soldier burst out from the fortress and came sprinting toward us.

He stopped in front of us and saluted. We returned the salute.

"Are you from the Armunale unit? No mistake, I hope?"

"Yeah, Thirty-one, Eld."

"Also Thirty-one—Benoit here."

"Second pilot of Twenty-six, Batis. No mistake."

"Everyone from the Armunale unit is to gather in the strategy conference room. The commander wants to hear the details firsthand."

"Got it. Can you show us the way?"

"Ha!"

Following the soldier’s lead, we step into the fortress. Looks stone-built on the outside, but just like the Armunale factories back in town, the inside’s solidly reinforced with iron.

We walk down the corridor, climb a few flights of stairs, and stop before a large door.

"This way."

The soldier knocks.

"Third Eleven Armunale unit, Eld-sama and Benoit-sama, and Second Six Armunale unit, Batis-sama, have arrived."

"Enter."

The voice from inside tells the soldier to open the door. He does, then slips into the shadow of the frame, vanishing like smoke. So this is where we go alone from here.

But something’s off, you know? Not like outright murderous intent or anything—more like a weird pressure. A tension, I guess. Like that odd kind of stress you get right before a presentation, when you can feel everyone’s eyes on you, waiting.

Why the hell am I leading, though? Shouldn’t it be Blois—older, been with Armunale longer? He’s the one who should go first.

I glance at him, and he’s grinning back, all sweet and easy. That smile… it’s like it says, *hurry up, get going*.

“Something wrong?”

Batis tilts his head, puzzled. He’s not moving forward, even though the door’s open.

“Nah, nothing.”

“Then come on, let’s go.”

He steps through the doorway first, without a backward glance.

Don’t you feel it? That sticky, heavy sensation coming from the other side of the door?

But if Batis has gone through already, we can’t just stand here.

Swallow hard. Steady myself. Step through the door.

Inside, long tables are arranged in a square, everyone seated facing each other in their units.

Batis’s already moved to his own unit, high-fiving his comrades. Looks like he’s got good rapport with them.

And the second I step into the meeting room, every single pair of eyes locks onto me.

Ah, that thick, heavy stare. Definitely sizing me up…

Then one man stands up from his seat and walks straight toward us.

“Glad you came. I’m Captain Rossolete of Soare Keep. Thank you for the reinforcements.”

“Pleasure. I’m Eld. On our end, we’ve been able to focus on the situation in Salsa thanks to your keep holding strong. Sorry we’re late to the rescue.”

“We’ve heard the intel from Salsa’s side. With that in mind, I’d like to discuss what comes next. Can you both join in?”

“Of course.”

I slid into the empty seat beside Bnois, and the meeting about what comes next began.

Right now, only five units are operational—just five machines here at the keep. Four of them can move, but still need some maintenance and supplies. They’re working on it at full speed, but even so, it’ll take at least three hours.

Supplies are getting tight. Continuing the fight much longer looks unlikely.

My reinforcements came in just barely in time.

“Recon teams are checking out the enemy units that pulled back. If they keep retreating like this, I’m thinking of leaving three Armunale here at the keep and sending the rest to Parast. Only one unit can move over there right now, so it’s a risk—but better than losing everything.”

Right. Because I ended up here, there’s only one unit that can move over to Parast—myself, the one I rescued. Reinforcements from the capital might arrive today, if the enemy isn’t pushing from any other block. Still, better to shore up our defense line with what we’ve got now.

“So which unit to send to Parast?”

“I’ll go back. There are thirty-one team members gathered over there.”

“True. Then thirty-one and the rest—”

“My unit will go.”

Twenty-sixth team raised a hand.

“My unit took the worst damage. Repairs here won’t get it moving properly, not even close.”

“Huh. Then if the enemy pulls back, thirty-one and twenty-six can move to Parast as soon as their machines are fixed.”

‘Copy that.’

After that, we went over building a defense line with three units, tactics, what to do if the enemy didn’t pull back, deployments, and all that—two hours passed before the meeting room door was knocked.

I’d been dozing off, head lolling, when the knock startled me awake. Yeah, even in a life-or-death meeting, you still get drowsy. At the end of the day, it’s just a meeting.

“Fifteenth Armunale Team, Leon, entering.”

The voice came from the door, and there he was—Leon. He spotted me, blinked once, then snapped back to his usual self, walking straight to the commander.

“Reconnaissance unit just reported. Enemy aircraft unit passed through the buffer zone and retreated straight back into the empire. We’re to stay on standby in the buffer zone and check in regularly, just in case.”

"Yeah, you’ve been through a lot. Leon, you’ll stay and join the meeting. Your mind’ll be useful."

"Understood."

Leon sat down at the commander’s side, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Wait—what’s he doing? Just plops down on the commander’s side instead of with the troops. And the commander’s treating him like family.

Noticing my surprise, the commander spoke up.

"Say, Leon and Eld were classmates, weren’t they? This year’s pilots are all top-notch."

"Can I count myself in that, too?"

"Of course you can."

Batis raised a hand, insisting. The commander smiled and nodded. Leon shook his head slightly beside him...

"Leon’s helped me with strategy quite a bit. His predictions are shockingly accurate. We’d have lost this position if not for his plans."

“Commander Rossiarte, please don’t go praising my second pilot too much. Losing a good one to another crew would be a real headache.”

“Haha, my apologies, Watts.”

The meeting, now including the intel Leon had brought, went smoothly and wrapped up after about an hour.

When the commander called for adjournment, the crew filed out of the briefing room. Amid them, Leon and Batis naturally drifted toward me.

Benoît leaned in and whispered, “I’ll go ahead and get things ready,” then slipped out. Was he being thoughtful?

“Long time no see, Eld.”

“Yeah, Leon. Glad you’re safe. I was worried when I heard you’d gone to Salsa—it was already fallen, to be honest.”

“Hmph. As if I’d be felled by something like that. Their movements were laughably predictable.”

“Still the same, huh—unbeatable on paper.”

“Only on the desk is that extra. You’ve been making quite the show, haven’t you? From the number of kills, the Lion Medal’s a sure thing.”

“Yeah, four down, one captured. That’s the deal.”

The Lion Medal, awarded for destroying three enemy craft. It’s like a badge of honor for the top pilot. The medal’s shaped like a lion split down the middle—destroy three more, six total, and you earn the other half.

Wear both halves together, and the double-headed lion from the national flag appears. That’s the Double-Headed Lion Medal. Those who wear it are treated like nobility, granted the same rights as upper lords, and get a yearly bonus from the crown.

Honestly, I don’t care one way or the other—but to this day, no pilot in this nation’s history has ever earned the Twin-Headed Lion Medal in a single battle.

Might’ve been possible if I’d taken down one more. Guess we’ll have to put off that unprecedented medal award for now.

“With all that action, you might just earn yourself a full pilot slot. That last capture was hefty—four full pilots dead, right?”

“Yeah. Ten spots open, at least. Usually it’s the veterans who get first pick, but having a Lion Medal recipient stuck as co-pilot? That’d look bad in the court’s eyes.”

“Mine, huh. All kinds of modifications I can make.”

Hearing I might finally get my own machine—my heart’s pounding.

Ever since I first found the Armunale in the valley, I’ve been wanting my own machine. Back when I was just co-pilot, I could only borrow the commander’s craft—had to stick with whatever gear they liked, and even then my tinkering was limited to tweaking the maneuvering calc-board. But now? Now I can make it just the way I want.

All kinds of things I’ve been itching to try. My dreams are getting bigger already.

“Go ahead and改装 your heart out, but don’t forget the guy who’ll be flying with you. Your piloting’s off the charts.”

“Then I’ll teach you that off-the-charts skill. Heh heh—heh. The elite squad’s coming together.”

“Huh….”

Leon shook his head, defeated.

“Then I’d better get ready, too.”

“Yeah, I’ve gotta prep myself. That thing’s harder to handle than a stone.”

Batis and I stood up.

Batis carried the captured machine straight to Parast. Said it’d be useless here. Along with it, the prisoners would be moved by the infantry unit. Probably not worth much, really—someone who gives up that easily ain’t likely to know anything useful.

“Then let’s meet up at Fortran or the capital next time. My squad’ll probably have to return for repairs at some point.”

“Yeah, then we’ll find time to grab a drink somewhere.”

“Sounds good.”

We left the conference room after making that drink promise, each of us heading off to prepare.