Vol 4, Chapter 19

"To hell with the concrete; it won't set in time. Cover the embankment with logs!" I ordered the soldier lugging the bag of concrete.

The fortifications, planned as a series of earthen steps, currently appeared as a modest earthwork behind two rows of trenches. The first trench was deep, while the second, shallower trench had a small concrete wall allowing fire to be directed without risking friendly fire on those in the front trench. Essentially, it formed a very long redoubt.

Chaos reigned around us as some soldiers continued constructing a third line of defense, while other units took positions. Men hurriedly replaced flints, sharpened bayonets, and officers shouted at sluggish recruits.

The caravan of mages had mockingly retreated into the city. Worse still, before leaving, the Archmage hinted he was too weary from travel to handle the core without rest. I wasn't sure if he hoped to pressure me, but I ignored his words. Building a ritual chamber would take over a week anyway, so we were already late and would have to face the enemy without magical protection, whether he started today or days later.

"Can I help with something?" Stern intruded.

"Weren't you supposed to leave with the other mages?" I asked, unfolding a map. The rising wind tugged at the paper, making it hard to see the marked positions.

"Oh no, I'd prefer to stay away from them. Besides, honor demands I assist you." The mage dramatically snapped his fingers, and the air around me stilled.

The wind stopped tearing the map from my grasp, allowing another assessment of our strength. The muskets delivered today were timely, but where to place the men? Reinforcing the reserves was appealing, but placing the least trained company there was foolish.

"Til!"

"Yes, Commander."

"Move the first company from the center, replace it with the fourth, and station the recruits where the fourth was. Who's commanding?"

"I wanted to appoint Lani, but you ordered the best shooters transferred to the balloon," Til pointed his musketoon toward the city, above which an montgolfier hovered.

"Other candidates?"

He hesitated. "I haven't had time to prepare the recruit lists yet... The order arrived only a couple hours ago!"

"To hell with the lists. Have the instructors pick the most capable recruits and distribute weapons... Actually, no. Have the weapons brought directly here from the arsenal; I need to inspect them. How many training muskets are at the range?"

"Forty!"

"Distribute those immediately. Just replace the flints."

"Yes, sir!"

Til left to relay orders, while I marked the map. The fourth company's position was flanked by redoubts and caponiers, heavily reinforced with stakes and barbed wire. Even recruits were unlikely to flee from there, especially with other units around them.

Finishing up, I noticed the mage was still awaiting my response.

"So, you want to help?"

"Yes. If you lose, I fear Wind will kill me. So, we're in the same boat," Stern nervously chuckled.

"Can you send wind toward the enemy?"

"Easily, but... I can't conjure a storm like my teacher. Besides, people from the First Duchy resist magic well. I'll do what I can, but don't expect significant results."

"A mild wind is fine. You just need to blow smoke toward the enemy."

"Smoke? What smoke?" He looked around, puzzled.

"You'll understand when you see it."

"Hmm... alright."

A few hundred meters away, soldiers from the first company rose from their trenches, regrouping with reinforcements marching in from the flank.

Recruits moved toward us from the barracks in disarray, most armed only with wooden replicas. Those with muskets had weapons that appeared ancient. Was this the fate of anything designated for training?

As troops adjusted positions, the clatter of hooves approached from behind. I turned, hoping to see the arsenal wagon, but it was Erin with her knights.

"Weren't you supposed to rest?"

"Are you joking?" the disheveled girl retorted bitterly.

"Not at all. The enemy isn't even visible yet; you have several hours to nap."

"When was the last time you checked the horizon, Randall?"

"Um... just now?" I squinted, barely making out a cloud of dust on the horizon. It seemed the enemy would arrive sooner than expected. "Fine, you'll only have an hour to rest. I suggest you start now."

"Make way!" shouted a coachman. The knights cursed and cleared a path for the racing wagon. Wooden wheels dug deep ruts, hinting at a heavy load. Horses frothed, breathing heavily. The wagon halted abruptly, nearly tipping over. The uniformed coachman jumped off, stumbled, and rushed to open the doors, aided by several soldiers.

"Um, Lord Condor, Her Grace mentioned you urgently need teachers? I'm quite skilled in literacy and ready to begin immed—" A knight suddenly addressed me. His face seemed vaguely familiar.

"Sir Trey, we've discussed this already!" Erin said wearily. "After the battle, you can—"

"After the battle, I might be dead!" he interjected hysterically, turning back to me. "Consider, my lord. Fighters are many, but where else will you find someone who will diligently and respectfully teach the common folk advanced sciences? I'm proficient not only in literacy but also geography, mathematics, and classical literature!"

I scratched my stubble thoughtfully. A coward, true, but bravery wasn't necessary for teaching. And what if he did die?

"You're hired. Dismissal straight to the guillotine. Contract for ten years. Agreed?"

"Thank you! I'll head straight to the town hall!" Trey laughed with relief and galloped away, while Erin gasped indignantly.

"Randall!"

"What? I truly need a teacher more than another knight. By the way, where are you off to on horseback?"

"You tell me! What's the battle plan? Where's your headquarters?"

"Right here in front of you… Halt!" I yelled at the soldiers who had begun distributing muskets. "Line up! Approach me one by one for your weapons."

Officers quickly restored order, and soldiers unloaded the wagon. A musket was handed to me.

"Are you joking? You don't even have a headquarters? Wait, do you even have baronets? Or knights?" Erin paused and rolled her eyes. "Oh, All-God, of course you don't."

"No urgent need. You can serve as reserves alongside the first company. Await orders from Til... or Dorvan will inform you who and when to hit." I gestured toward a column of soldiers led by an armored giant holding a genuine handheld cannon.

"What rank is he?" one knight asked haughtily.

"None. Just a regular soldier," I replied, inspecting the musket.

An immediate discontented murmur arose among the knights.

"What? Outrageous! We won't take orders from commoners!" voiced one knight, expressing general dissatisfaction.

"Erin?" I turned to the Countess, who shrugged, hiding a satisfied smile.

"Their right. I can order them to follow your commands, but not those of commoners."

"I see. Dorvan!"

The giant hurried over, armor clattering loudly.

"Kneel!"

With a crash, the mass of armor fell, raising dust. Everything suddenly went silent. Recruits stopped whispering, knights paused in anticipation, and even workers hauling logs tried to work quietly, glancing at us.

Slowly, I drew my sword, its unnaturally white steel gleaming in the sunlight. I touched Dorvan's pauldrons with the blade.

"I dub you a knight," I simply declared, not recalling the exact ceremony. "Rise, Sir Dorvan."

The knights began muttering; one even removed his helmet to spit.

"This is a mockery of the entire knighting ceremony!" one declared.

I locked eyes with him.

"Perhaps. But who are you to tell me that?"

The knight fell silent and hastily replaced his helmet.

"Exactly. Til!" I shouted.

"Yes!" came the reply from the bunker.

"You're a baronet. We'll formalize it later when there's time."

"Yes, sir!"

"That's settled," I sheathed my sword and beckoned a recruit forward. "Any further issues with obedience?"

No further objections arose from the knights, so I began distributing muskets, personally inspecting each before handing them over. Occasionally, minor factory defects needed correction, but overall, everything was fine. Ironically, although unintended, the atmosphere felt even more ceremonial than the knighting. The last soldier received his weapon, bowed, and joined the column heading to their positions. I hoped they'd all survive...

"Now, first company, step up one by one. Bring the breastplates," I ordered.

Only the guardsmen had quality armor. Everyone else either had none or made do with whatever was available—chainmail, brigandines, cuirasses. I allowed soldiers to wear whatever armor they chose until standardized equipment was available.

Today brought that day slightly closer: mass-produced, roughly made breastplates stamped from hot metal. Uncomfortable and uniform, but still better than chainmail, or than wearing nothing at all.

Soldiers approached one by one as I fitted armor to each chest. I needed capable reserves. After all, if they had to be sent into battle, it meant things were going really badly."

Pausing to wipe sweat, I glanced at the horizon. Enemy flags and banners were already visible, bright reflections indicating they wore armor too. Not that it would help them much.

"You still awake?" I asked Erin, noticing she alone remained mounted while other knights had dismounted.

"Not sure. This entire day has been one continuous nightmare."

"Oh, stop dramatizing. How do you like the balloon?"

She shot me a displeased look. "I don't even want to think about what kind of sorcery keeps that thing in the air."

"Well, if you don't want to, don't," I shrugged, adjusting another breastplate. "By the way, I thought you'd be most upset about me knighting someone without the proper ceremony. Why didn't you say anything?"

She shrugged, yawned, and dismounted. "My ancestors often received titles right on the battlefield. Ceremonies are nice in peacetime. I'm more concerned you gave titles to people without a Gift. I could lecture you about your foolish mistake again, but... what's the point? Let it be what will be."

"You're right. Let it be what will be. Care to help?" I nodded toward the pile of breastplates.

The girl picked one up and grimaced.

"The work of a very lazy blacksmith?"

"You could say that," I snorted, not wanting to delve into the intricacies of hot stamping. "Will you help?"

"The battle is near. I can't afford to waste strength on trivial matters," she shook her head.

"You'll recover your strength quickly, but the soldiers without this armor risk death right now."

"They'll risk death far more if I lack the strength to handle an enemy they have no chance against," she answered firmly, and I bit my lip, struck by a strange feeling of nostalgia.

"I'll give them the strength to overcome any enemy. That's my path," I bared my teeth. An old argument, an old friend. It was the answer I should have given Hornet.

"Perhaps... Perhaps," the girl pondered deeply, lifted a breastplate, and pressed it against a soldier's uniform. The metal slowly flowed, molding to the figure.

"Whew," she sighed once finished. "No way! It'd be easier for me to shape metal with bare hands."

"Alright. There's a bed in the dugout; you can rest there," I shrugged, continuing my work. I'd never fully realized how much harder this task was for others compared to me.

Soldiers came up one after another, but the girl didn't hurry to leave.

"You know... this reminds me of Imperial times..."

"I didn't know you were thousands of years old," I joked, immediately earning a sharp jab in the ribs.

"Don't pick at my words! I mean the uprising of metal mages. Our ancestors weren't strong enough to oppose mages of other elements, so they armed ordinary people. Perhaps mages once stood as we do now, encasing warriors who joined them in isolite armor…"

"Hm..." I murmured vaguely, moving on to the last group of soldiers.

"The chronicles describe those times as a battle for freedom, but... I've always thought it was just a power struggle. Metal mages were dissatisfied with their position in the Empire and wanted more power—what does freedom have to do with it?" she posed a rhetorical question to the sky.

I shrugged; the motivations of people who lived centuries ago didn't interest me.

She took a deep breath and stretched.

"But maybe the chronicles weren't lying? There's something to it, don't you think? We've weakened, lost our former glory, becoming more like those we once fought against. No one would've dared sell gifted souls for elixir-making before... Now, it's disturbingly common. How did those who once led the people become just like their oppressors?"

"I really think you should rest. When was the last time you slept?"

"Two or three days ago. But don't worry, warriors are tougher than ordinary people," she waved it off.

I adjusted the last piece of armor and dusted my hands off. Done!

Still, Erin's condition concerned me. Starting a fight in such a state? I unfastened the holster belt and approached the girl.

"Hey, what are you doing?" she tried to dodge as I wrapped the belt around her waist.

"Don't move... There. Six shots. Keep it for now; I'll make myself another."

"I don't need it. My strike is stronger than your bullets," she tried removing the belt, but I stopped her.

"Just keep it. Return it after the battle. Now, you're going to rest!"

"No way! Look, the enemy will be here in less than an hour!"

"Exactly why you need rest. Don't worry, I'll wake you when things get fun."

"It already started," she countered. "Look, a rider approaches."

I squinted. A messenger galloped far ahead of his troops, holding a leather tube and a white flag.

"Should we open fire? He'll see our fortifications," Til suggested.

"No, let him pass. Let's hear what he has to say."

Five minutes later, the messenger handed me a scroll. An ultimatum from Short, unsurprisingly... He granted three hours for consideration.

Stripping away the ornate wording, the offer was straightforward. Generous, even, in a sense.

Short proposed that my grandfather and I leave the city and even our castle. In exchange, he promised no revenge and to leave us alone.

Yet, most of the scroll detailed the consequences if I DIDN'T comply.

"…should I take the city—I'll execute you publicly as a thief! Your castle and even the rock beneath it will be wiped off the face of the earth! Anyone who ever served the Condors will be tortured to death... All others will be executed for betrayal! I'll burn every speck of this city, break every brick, and flood the streets with blood! I…" And so on and so forth. Boring, empty threats.

Smirking, I flipped the scroll and pulled a pen from my pocket.

"What will we reply?" Erin asked excitedly, her nostrils flaring. All drowsiness vanished instantly.

If you take the city, you say...

I boldly wrote just one word on the back of the scroll, using plenty of ink.

IF.