5

That night. We were back at the conference tent again.

Eight soldiers were already there—Luiner-sama, Geo, and the rest.

“Good of you to come. Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you.”

I sit where I’m told. Behind me, Ange and Catreia stand at attention. It’s a bit rough on them, but I’ve made sure they know their place here.

This is another country. Even the smallest thing could tarnish Fatal’s name, so we’re being careful.

In the meantime, a foot soldier sets tea in front of me. As if waiting for that signal, Luiner-sama speaks.

Alright, let’s start with introductions. First, I’m Luiner, the first princess of Belgio, and currently the commander of this second defense division. To my side is my deputy commander, Tron. Starting from my left, the captain of the first unit, Jarni; second unit, Megan; third unit, Geo; then on my right, the captain of the fourth unit, Tuta; fifth unit, Sanyo; and finally, the sixth unit, Milmi. The first through fourth units are combat forces. The fifth unit specializes in reconnaissance and surveillance. The sixth handles supply and logistics.

Most of the captains from the first to fourth units—like Geo—are broad-shouldered and sun-tanned. They look like they’ve been forged in the field, through and through.

The fifth surveillance unit’s captain’s most noticeable trait is being a bit slimmer than the others, with a pair of binoculars slung around their neck. And the sixth supply unit’s captain? A splash of red among the ranks—she’s the only woman leading a unit here. She’s wearing camouflage pants, same as the others, but like Lady Ruinelle, she’s got nothing on but a tank top, showing off a lot more skin than you’d expect.

Each captain gives a quick hello—“Nice to meet you,” or “Count on me,”—and I mumble something back, just enough to be polite.

Then it’s my turn.

“I’m Eld, captain of the Second Princess’s personal guard, first guard battalion, Armunale, of the Fatal Kingdom. I’ve got no experience with guerrilla warfare in forests, so I’ll be following your lead. Please take care of me.”

I’ve fought plenty in open fields and mountain terrain—no problem there—but this dense forest? Guerrilla tactics? Never done that before.

So I’m just gonna stay put, mostly. Wait for orders, like I always do.

My words, passed on to Lady Ruinel.

“—that’s the plan. Basically, you’ll be joining my unit. The first through fourth squads will lure out the enemy, and you’ll take them down.”

“Guard Knight of the Fatal! I’ve heard of you! The record-breaking one—picked straight into the Guard after just a year, former ace, right?”

That was Captain San’yo from the Fifth Squad, voice full of surprise.

Guess you’d expect that, given they’re all scouts and watchers—must’ve picked up every rumor out there.

And right after, the response came from Milm, Sixth Squad.

“Ah, I’ve heard that too. One machine, tearing through the front lines—turned a bunch of losing battles upside down. They say he fights with just one arm, so they call him ‘One-Arm’ now.”

“His machine’s got both arms, though?”

“Huh? Then it’s someone else?”

Geo tilts his head, and Milm pouts a little, so I jump in to clarify.

“Back when he was using his old machine, it got wrecked in battle a while back. This one’s a newer model—fixed all the old problems.”

“Oh! So that’s what it means! Then he really is the One-Arm, huh!”

“Guess that’s how the nickname stuck.”

It started with Forze and the others calling him that, but the first One-Arm was just… well, he’d lost his left arm, plain and simple.

“Being able to count on someone like that? I’m truly touched!”

Milmi took my hand across the desk and gripped it tight, bobbing her arm up and down with a happy little shake. Her cleavage, wide open, jiggled with each motion—those heavy fruits swaying like they had a mind of their own.

Just as my eyes were about to drift that way, a sharp little pain shot through my back, and my spine snapped straight. A soft whisper brushed my ear.

“Eld-kun.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

I chuckled at Ange’s jealousy, but then René stepped in to calm the excited Milmi.

“Milmi, keep it down. I get it—you’re happy—but we’re in a meeting right now.”

“Oh! Sorry!”

“Then, as Sanyo and Milmi have said, his strength is such that enemies give him a nickname. I believe that kind of power is trustworthy. Any objections from you all?”

René’s question hung in the air. Each captain shook their head in unison. No objections.

Nodding once, as if satisfied, Lady Luneir gave a signal toward Lond.

Lond glanced, then fetched a large sheet of paper from the side table and spread it out across the surface.

It was a map—of this very region.

Look closely, and you’d see the square’s position, the cliff’s location, even the contours and elevations, drawn with astonishing precision—so detailed it felt like viewing the land from above.

“Amazing… but is it really okay?”

A map this detailed could easily be classified as state secrets. Was it really safe to show it so casually to someone from another nation?

“No issue. Eld’s actions will be the key to victory. I want you to know the terrain inside and out.”

“The enemy struggled with it often enough. There were plenty of times when a clearing in the woods ended in a cliff. See here… and here…”

“Ah, I see.”

Listening to Lord Luinell and Lord Rond’s explanation, I remembered the village where I’d grown up.

Funny thing—back when I found Armunale, the valley was right after the woods opened up. Yeah, if you slipped off a cliff like that during a fight, it’d be a real doozy of a mistake. Fatal, even.

“So, Eld, I’d like you to memorize this map well.”

“Understood.”

“And now. The place we’re using as headquarters is this square—about five kilometers north of the old front line.”

Lord Luinell tapped the map with his staff, pointing out our current position and where the old front had been.

We’re fighting deep in the woods now, completely surrounded. The old front line had been near the edge of the great forest.

But just looking at the map, it’s clear. The old front line didn’t match Berjio’s usual tactics at all.

The land beyond the forest opens into a plain. If they’d fought here, the empire with Armunale would’ve won without a doubt.

“This is where the battlefield lies. About two kilometers south from here.”

“Surprisingly close, huh.”

“Those machines seem to struggle moving through the woods. They’ve set up camp just outside the forest. From there, they’re coming in periodically to scout our main base.”

“Today’s bunch too?”

They’d gotten awfully close to our headquarters with that thing. If their camp’s at the forest’s edge, that means they came straight through.

“Yeah. They must’ve figured our main base was deep inside the woods. The other commander’s not entirely dim-witted, I’ll give him that.”

“What now?”

That’s the real question. Do we meet them head-on? Or start thinking about moving the base?

“Of course we fight. You can count on it, right?”

“Yeah.”

I return the smile with one of my own.

"Now that we've cleared that up, let's get to the real business. How do we deal with the imperial vermin? I want to fight right here."

The spot she points to is a cliff near the river—similar terrain to where I found the machine. Only, not as deep as my village's valley, maybe five to seven meters high, just up to the machine's waist.

A fall from that height would do real damage, even to the machine. Be careful.

"Here's the plan. First, the Fifth Unit detects the enemy forces approaching. Immediately, the First and Second Units lure their machines here. Then, Eld, I'd like you to take them down. But let's be clear—our final goal isn't just destroying the enemy machines. It's seizing the Abnomyle."

A ripple ran through the captains at those words.

“Seizing the Abnomyle…?!”

“That’s right. We can’t operate Armunale ourselves, no doubt. But Abnomyle runs on mana fluid—Magia Liquid. Meaning we can handle it just fine. Already, it’s matched Armunale in strength, deployed across every front. Technically, grabbing it’s worth every bit.”

True enough—main weapons on the battlefield were already shifting from Armunale to Abnomyle. Armunale was too expensive, too few in number to spread out. Compared to that, Abnomyle cost more than a golem, but still far cheaper than Armunale. Even small nations could manage it.

But—

"Ah, true—but we don’t *have* to steal it, do we? We could just offer the information ourselves, maybe?"

The princess is already on her way to Belgio’s capital. If we ask for cooperation, we’ll probably have to pay a price. But if we throw in Abnomyle’s tech? Fatal would likely go for it.

"True enough. But we’ve got the real thing right here. Take it, and we can demand whatever we want. Small nations like ours have a lot of wants, after all."

"Please, keep it reasonable."

"Consider it."

That’s definitely not the way you say “consider it.”

"So, that’s the general idea. Any thoughts? Change the plan, apply it elsewhere, anything at all. Let us know if you spot something."

"Then I’ll start."

He raised his hand. It was Tua from the Fourth Unit.

"Should the Third and Fourth Units just stay on standby? If there’s a chance, shouldn’t we throw everything into it?"

Thought about that too—something’s off with the enemy’s movements. Three units showing up this far… feels like they’re rushing, overdoing it. Maybe—

"Reinforcements?"

"Yeah. If the enemy’s got reinforcements, we gotta consider the possibility of a diversionary force. So we hold back the third and fourth units."

For when it comes to a pinch—so we can lead them to the same spot, right?

This unit’s the only one Eld’s got, so guiding it’s our biggest job.

Understood.

Then next it's me—

Saying that, one after another, the captains offered their opinions. The scene felt like it didn’t treat Louisnel-sama as a princess at all.

One of the same soldiers—constant sparring with each other like old comrades.

Watching it all, Catarea whispers beside me.

“Looks like quite a meeting. Not how it’d go in Fatal’s squad.”

“Yeah… I always shrink around my superiors.”

Especially when the other side’s a princess of a whole kingdom. To point out flaws in her plan—fine. But actually suggesting changes to the whole strategy, demanding shifts in troop placement—those captains aren’t holding back. They’re speaking up.

Not out of selfishness, not just to boost their own glory. Every word’s aimed at making the plan better. That’s what makes the whole division’s spirit so clear.

“Respected, but also… really wanting to pull their weight. Everyone here must love this country.”

You’d think it’d be harder to love a country this big. Sure, you might feel real about protecting a village or a little town—but when it’s an entire nation? The scale gets too wide, too hard to feel.

And Bellgio’s surrounded by a great forest, so there’s not much land to live on. That’s why people stick close. Seems like that’s helping, though.

“Plus, they’ve had their share of mistakes, right?”

The rigid old guard’s plan, the one Lord Rinel mentioned. If it was a big enough failure, that’d explain why they’re all scrambling now—trying so hard to get it right.

One of them off track? The others catch up.

“Really something, isn’t it?”

I think back to the old days—Robo Lab, shouting back and forth, arguing like mad. And before I know it, I’m smiling.

◇

At the edge of the great forest. Tents stood in rows, and abnomyle guards patrolled around them.

The imperial campsite.

“Gwaaah!”

From one of the tents, a groan of anguish rang out.

And mingling with that voice, a sharp crack of a whip cuts through the air.

The one cracking the whip is a pale, thin man with sunken cheeks.

Whipping the man without mercy, his eyes wide and bloodshot, blood pouring from every pore.

Kukukku! A good scream! A good writhing! A good scent! This is pain! This is life!

"Miss Cloar, you'll die if you go on like this."

"Already? Well, I suppose there's nothing to be done about it."

Cloa swung her arm once more, the whip cracking through the air, then slowly stepped toward the man hanging above, grasping his face and turning it straight ahead.

"Now then, let’s ask again. Tell me the location of the headquarters. That way, you won’t have to suffer, hm?"

He pulled the gag free, and the man hanging there spat straight at Cloa’s face.

It landed with a wet slap on his cheek, dripping down.

"You—!"

"Too bad."

The soldier beside him flared up, slamming a fist into the man’s gut.

The man gasped, choking—then Cloa slid the gag back in, slow and deliberate.

Then, one finger pressed gently into the wound.

"Wha—!? Gah—aaaah!"

The finger slid in, slow and deliberate, prying open the cut. The man’s eyes bulged as he screamed.

By the time the finger reached the second joint, Cloa moved without a word, twisting the man’s body just by the single finger still buried in the wound.

そのたびに、男は気絶しそうなほどの激痛に襲われ、体を捩った。

「ほれほれほれほれ、早く抜かなければ、もっと痛いですよぉ～」

指がぐじゅりと動き、体の内側を掻き回す。噴き出した血が指を赤く染め、クロアの服を汚した。

「ほれほれほれほれほれほれほれほれほれほれほれ」

クロアの指は、止まることなくむしろその速度を増しながら、男の傷口を中なら掻き回す。

やがて、男は気絶しその体から力が抜けた。

「気絶してしまいましたか」

「いかがしますか？」

「このままにしましょう。目を覚ましたら、また楽しみます」

「ハッ！」

「さて――」

血の滴る指を一舐めし、クロアはテントから外へと出る。

「増援が届きましたね」

「まさかベルジオごときに応援を要請することになるとは。不覚です」

No choice but to admit it—enemy’s head’s sharper than I thought. But that ends here.

Standing in line: twenty-four Abnomyle units, and one Armunale with an odd, long-limbed tail.

The original twelve Abnomyle had doubled—pressed into service by the homeland, fed up with the resistance they’d met.

And Cloa’s unit, idle during repairs, now fully fixed thanks to the reinforcements that came with the new troops.

“Gotta live up to Her Majesty’s trust, don’t we? The Eight Knightly Stars’ name’s taken quite a hit lately, hasn’t it?”

Cloa reached to her chest, fingertips brushing the medal there. The badge—a mark of the sixth seat among the Eight Knightly Stars, the rank of Kusui.

“Gotta show the world again just what the Eight Knightly Stars are made of—after all, I’m taking down a whole nation. Here we go, my darling Fitarade!”

Next time…

While Eld and the others were preparing for battle, Ines arrived safely in the capital.

There, she would learn from the Berjio royal family why Berjio was being targeted by the Empire.

Meanwhile, a suspicious shadow crept closer to the guerrilla base.

Fitarade’s image was a high-gock with a straight spine and a tail twitching behind.