3

At Kamentaria Base, Knight General Kansas returned his beloved machine to the hangar and stepped down from the cockpit. His subordinates, directly under his command, stood in formation, saluting as they greeted him.

"Sir, welcome back. You've had a long day."

Taking the towel offered, he wiped the faint sheen of sweat from his brow.

He wasn’t truly exhausted from battle. No, when he stepped onto the field, Kansas always kept his body charged with just the right amount of tension and fire—because he knew it brought out his best performance.

“How was today’s enemy?”

“Out of luck this time. The usual one wasn’t there.”

Recalling the Armunale he’d just defeated, Kansas answered his troops.

He’d been searching, of course, for the one-armed machine—the demon the Empire’s knights called by name.

I’d been keeping watch, half-scouting, half-waiting—figured they’d show up soon, what with the Crossrul assault. But when they finally came, it was just some common grunt, no different from the rest. A little disappointing, that.

“But we managed to recover two generators. If that’s weakened the enemy even a little, well… I’ll take it.”

Judging by the size and strength of the unit we ran into, I’d reckon they were probably a scouting party.

Wouldn’t be worth it otherwise—dragging around a whole swarm of abnomyle like a guard dog. Even in the Empire, they only do that when scouting with a small unit.

This next attack might come with a big force. If that’s the case, we’d best be ready to meet it.

Going on a scout means they’re planning to attack us. And that’ll be sooner than we think.

There’s a solid unit here, ready to launch at a moment’s notice. Orders have come from home—preferably, retake Kreuzl if possible.

Then there’s no need to risk the base unnecessarily.

“Likely to collide soon. Might be best to talk things over with the command crew.”

“Shall I relay that? After dinner, would that be alright?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Understood.”

One of the subordinates stepped out of formation to send the message.

At the same time, a pilot descended from the adjacent hangar.

“Hey there, Your Excellency. How’d I do? Satisfied with my work?”

It was a woman in a vivid red dress.

Her sleek, flowing hair glowed crimson like rubies, and her pale skin looked too soft to have seen battle—impossible to believe she was ever in a warzone.

The gold pendant nestled deep in her ample bosom, glowing like a jewel set right into her skin.

Looked more like something you’d wear to a dance party than a battlefield.

She felt the eyes of a few soldiers glued to her chest and let out a soft, knowing smile.

“Rizet, can’t you do something about that dress?”

Even Kansas, though past her prime, couldn’t help but flinch at the sight, and pretended to sigh dramatically to cover it up.

“Hah, I’m not a soldier. Don’t need to torture myself into that stiff pose. Born a woman—might as well enjoy being one. Now, answer my question. Did I please you, my lord?”

With a slow, sultry smile, Rizet asked again.

“Ah, exceeded expectations. I’ve never seen a woman with such skill before.”

“Good. Guess I’ve got a buyer who’s actually worth the price.”

Rizet wasn’t a knight of the Empire.

She was the commander and pilot of the Nylon-Eaters.

“When I heard Armunale suddenly approaching during the march, I thought it was an enemy attack.”

“Hah—heard the rumors about you and the One-Armed Reaper, so I came flying out of the tavern!”

Rizet had been on leave in a small town of the Empire, wondering where she’d head next depending on how the war turned. Then the bartender told her Kansas had passed through the town she was in. And after poking around a bit deeper, she found out the reason the Eight Generals had been sent out was to take down the One-Armed Reaper.

So the next battlefield was decided—no other choice remained.

But if the captain of the Nylon Eaters is moving, that one-armed freak must be something terrifying, huh?

Nylon Eaters—now that’s a name you hear even in the heart of Du Rebeau. Not just for their strength, mind you, but for their style. That’s what made them stand out.

It’s all about enjoyment. Life, battle, even death—savoring it all. Living loud, dying loud. That’s the creed of the Nylon Eaters.

And at the center of it all? Their captain, Rizet.

Hence the nickname: Rizet the Hedonist.

“Who knows. I’ve never seen it myself. But that battle-mad woman’s fixated on him. Can’t be anything but a fun opponent, right?”

“Battle-mad… wasn’t she the merc who pulled off the royal assault?”

“That’s right. The mad ones who went off like a firecracker, rampaged right through the heart of the capital, and came back—completely cracked. And to top it off, they stole the Armunale. Thanks to that, the Elshard Mercenary Company’s become a name even the Du Librepel can’t ignore.”

The Elshard Mercenary Company, known for pulling off reckless, suicide-level plans and still scoring beyond expectations, was now the most famous mercenary group around. But among mercenaries themselves? They were the kind you didn’t talk about much.

"Between that troublemaker and a new one with real skill, I hear? That Eld fellow—where in the blazes does he dig up such finds? Doesn’t matter, really. What’s interesting is that all these troublemakers are fixated on one thing: the one-armed one. That’s what’s got my blood up. I *need* to fight him. So I’ve decided to butter up the nobleman here."

Rozet slid close to Kansas, wrapping her arms around his arm.

The soft press of her ample chest against his made Kansas stiffen.

"How about you, handsome? Want to pick me as your partner tonight? You’re still spry for your age, aren’t you?"

Rozet gave a little lick of her lips. Kansas grimaced, shaking his arm loose with a reluctant push.

"I’ve got a strategy meeting after this. If you want a man, there are plenty around. This is a men’s camp, after all. Plenty of them waiting to be had."

"Chee, such a shy lord you are."

Rozet let go of her arm without fuss, her gaze flicking for just a second toward Kansas’s subordinates—then back again.

Maybe she’d been the one carrying that quiet, hopeful weight in the air.

"Heroes aren’t supposed to like color, are they?"

"I’m no hero. My wife’s enough for me. If you’re set on one, go on—try tempting that one-armed fellow. To the other side, he’d be a clear-cut hero."

"Hah, sure, if he survives our little war. But until then, I’ll just find someone to pass the time with."

“Just keep it quiet enough not to echo tomorrow. I’ll step out myself tomorrow and pull their lot out a bit.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Rizet walks out of the storage bay with the young female member of the Nylon Eaters in tow.

The soldiers watching her go let out a quiet, inward sigh.

“You guys… you’re way too easy to read.”

Kansas lets out a long, weary breath at the sight of his subordinates.

“Anyway, I’ve just gotten the full report from the recon team that came back.”

The princess tosses the paper onto the table with a flick, then lets out a big sigh.

I saw it too—no real info on the base, just that there are two dangerous Armunale out there.

One of them’s definitely a nylon-eater, but the other—completely baffling. Can’t even get close enough to bump into it, not to mention hit it.

The scouts who’d survived caught sight of the thing—just barely. Back on its frame, a tank like a giant drum, and no close-combat weapons at all, standard for Imperial units.

The fighting—some distance behind the nylon-eater—was all precise spellfire.

The power was something far beyond that of regular mechs—just the fact it pierced right through a magic shield and into the frame.

No idea who they are—or how they work.

Honestly, there’s hardly anything we can do about it. And if the scout team’s been spotted, the base’s defenses’ll only get tighter. Worse yet—might even come out to meet us head-on, step for step.

Better to fight at a base with magi liquid tanks than not, that’s the safe bet.

“We’ll have to rethink the plan for the attack on Kamentaria.”

“But we’ve already finished organizing the troops and gathering supplies, haven’t we?”

Even if it keeps, starting over now means a lot of food’ll go to waste. Not that the kingdom’s got so much gold it can afford to throw it all away.

“I know. So we won’t change the troop setup—just shift the position a little, fight somewhere else instead.”

“Somewhere else?”

The princess motions to her lady-in-waiting, who pulls a map from the shelf.

She spreads it on the table, points at their current location.

“This is where we are. And Kamentaria’s here.”

She slides her finger gently eastward, touching the Kamentaria Base.

She slid her finger back a little, stopping right in the middle between the two bases.

“This is where the plains stretch out. That’s where we’d meet, if we clashed.”

“Frontal clash on the open ground?”

“Full-scale war. It’d be brutal, but break through here, and we could hit Kreuzel in one push.”

“Still, there’d be garrisons and defense units at the forts. You’re thinking of chasing down retreating troops and fighting on the move?”

“…Guess that’s too much to ask, huh?”

I ran a quick mental simulation. Shook my head.

“No way. They’ve got defense systems up, being bases and all. And even if we ignored that, our engines wouldn’t last. If we’re gonna do it, we’d need to split our forces from the start—send one through right after the other, like a spearhead.”

“…Yeah, we don’t have that kind of luxury.”

Gotta keep the Avilabomb in mind. Can’t leave too many units exposed. Gotta hold back some machines, keep a reserve at the base.

Frontal assault. Base capture. Both usually need big squads. But we don’t have that kind of luxury.

“Ah! What do we do now!”

“Frontal or sneak attack? Sneak’s tough… so we just wear them down head-on, then?”

“Mmm… I’d rather not burn through our forces if I can help it.”

Watching the princess frown, I suddenly wonder something.

“Say, Your Highness… just how far do you plan to push this war?”

Right now, her goal’s clear—take back the land we lost. That’s kept morale high, and the front lines aren’t too grim.

But once we step into enemy territory… the mood’ll change.

There’s a world of difference between reclaiming something… and taking it by force.

Honestly, knights from the kingdom don’t really learn how to take things in the first place.

They don’t know how to rule—just march into enemy territory and hack away, counting it as victory.

That’s why I wanted to ask the princess just how far she planned to go.

She’s been avoiding wasting our strength, but she’s acting like she might just keep pushing straight into enemy territory.

“Mm-hmm. I’m aiming to push them back up to the buffer zone—those open plains. After that, I’ll secure a piece of the buffer zone and build a new forward keep there.”

“Pushing the front line forward, huh?”

More like surveillance, really. The forest right in front of the buffer zone—makes it tough to move first, every time. So I want to build a watchtower, catch their moves sooner. That way, we can keep them in check more easily. And maybe open up some room for talks with them, too.

"Peace talks with the Empire?"

Not peace—no, not quite that—but I’d like to at least get a truce going. Honestly, the kingdom’s a mess right now. And with the change in leadership, we’ve got to rebuild relations with the neighboring nations. Can’t keep focusing only on war, you know.

Ah, I see.

The kings before me—those old hands—were the ones who built trust with the neighboring lands. But now the crown’s changed hands. That means the way things are run, the whole political talk of it... well, it’s bound to shift.

So we’ve got to tell them about it through diplomacy—ask for understanding, I suppose.

And so we need a truce with the Empire—have to show them our strength, if we’re gonna make it happen.

If we can build a fortress on the plain that’s been used as a buffer zone between our nations for years, it’s practically the same as putting one on their soil. Show them that kind of force, and we might just be able to propose laying down arms.

Trying to ask for peace now? They’d just laugh and shut the door.

“Got it. So the final goal is building a fortress in the buffer zone, right?”

“Yes. We’ll have our knights put in the work, of course.”

“Honestly, I’d like to settle into a proper married life soon. But if stopping this war means going all out—I’m in.”

We’ve been at war since we got married, after all.

Truth be told, we’ve been at war since the wedding ceremony started—no peaceful married life at all.

Ain’t it about time we kicked back at our new house and enjoyed a proper, lazy life with Ange, huh?

“Now that my knight’s doing his best, I can handle a bit of a stretch, right? I’ll think up a plan by tonight—come by again later, okay?”

“Please, don’t go overboard.”

I chuckle, shaking my head at the inevitable nonsense, and finish the last of my tea before rising.

Just then, a soldier bursts into the room.

“What’s wrong?”

“T-the messenger! Our scouting unit spotted a major enemy force coming from Camentria! They’re moving straight this way!”

“A major force!?”

The princess jumps up, startled.

No way they’re launching another invasion!? We already made it clear yesterday—our scouting unit’s been all over their front lines.

So if they’re coming at us, that means they’re ready to fight back.

“Size? What’s the enemy’s makeup!?”

“From what we can tell—six Armunale units. Two of them look like yesterday’s models. Abnomule around thirty, maybe.”

“Thirty… not exactly a full-scale invasion, is it?”

“But if yesterday’s unit’s among them, we can’t afford to slack off.”

Someone on my level’s out there. If so, they could easily damage the base. Probably why they’re here—to slow down our advance.

"Yeah. My knight, send out your unit. And from the formed squadrons, pull fifty units—yes, the third, fourth, fifth platoons! We’ll stop them before they reach the base. Keep the other units on standby. If they’re coming from over there, there’s a chance an Avilabomb’ll drop. Keep the sky watch tight. You’ve informed the commander, right? I’m heading to the command room myself."

"I’ll be going too."

The princess dashed out of the room. At the same instant, the base’s alarm bells rang out.

Mic’s magic carried her voice across the entire base.

"Enemy forces approaching from Camentria. All personnel, stand by. Armunale units and Abnomule units, remain at your machines until further orders."

Hmm, the new commander here’s not half bad. For now, the princess has the ultimate command since she’s stationed here—but he’s already stepping in just ahead of her, guessing her moves enough to stay out of her way.

Well then, I’ll be off too.