The layered clouds were a fog that obstructed sight. I hadn't known until I entered them myself, but once I experienced it, I realized it was so. It didn't really matter. Even within the mist that clouded everything before its eyes, Odd-Eye pinpointed the enemy's position. It wasn't difficult for Enkrid either. The gryphons' wingbeats came with a noise too loud to hide.
Kwaaa, Kwaaa.
And even as they moved against the wind, a rank smell trailed with them. The sound and the stench fixed their location.
Kieeek!
Whether it was bravado or the sign of one with a brain that still worked, two gryphons that had been hiding behind the clouds suddenly closed in from both sides. Odd-Eye moved its wings and halted in place. It changed the wing angle so that they faced the wind. An astonishingly abrupt stop. The moment they met the two gryphons head-on, Enkrid swung Penna, which had become a spiked mace.
Pung! Ppeok!
The one on the left had its head burst. The one on the right thrust its beak in that brief instant, but it was pointless. Enkrid's reaction speed surpassed that of any monster. Moreover, Odd-Eye didn't simply stay still. Seeing the direction from which the right gryphon's beak was coming, Enkrid drew slightly back. There were no restrictions on forward, backward, left, or right movement. Just because they both flew in the sky didn't make them the same. Odd-Eye was swifter than a gryphon and capable of far more dimensional maneuvers. Enkrid thrust Penna forward. On that thrust, the relic of the enemy knight, the blade that had once clattered as it coiled around the sword, drove into the gryphon's torso.
Ppeobeok.
Gwek.
The scream of the monster that hadn't died instantly felt almost familiar.
"Too noisy."
Enkrid drew Penna back to retrieve it, then pulled out Dawn and brushed past the creature's head.
Ping-. Whiiing.
Only the sound of the air being cut remained, and yet the gryphon's head floated in the air. Enkrid, through this battle, slaughtered twenty-six of the Gryphon Riders.
***
"Hey, what's that? Simlak's dead."
The eyes of the three southern knights watching from the ground widened. They had predicted and assumed all sorts of possibilities, yet this was a sight they had never once pictured. There was no way not to be astonished. Among them, the one whose specialty was composure was the first to shift from shock to action. From surprise to response.
"All troops to battle readiness."
If the enemy wasn't a pack of fools, there was no way they'd miss this chance. They'd been pressing these opponents down for days. Moreover, the southern army had been advancing "for what comes next," moving into positions advantageous for fighting. In other words, they had been preparing for a full-scale battle. Now the situation was twisting. Normally, they would begin the fight when the timing and conditions they desired arrived.
"The initiative's been taken."
Suddenly a flying horse appeared in the sky, contending for air control with the gryphon riders. Simlak had just died, but even without much imagination, predicting what would follow wasn't difficult.
"They'll all die."
If the enemy had spotted the main army's movement yet, retreating now might have been an option. Yet even with gryphons threatening overhead, Naurillia hadn't been negligent in sending out even its few quasi-knights for reconnaissance. A commander who fails an operation may be forgiven, but one who fails in vigilance cannot. Such a commander is unqualified. Naurillia had no fools like that—only those who never missed an opportunity.
"To know the enemy and know yourself."
The basics of warfare. He knew that as well. And because of that, he knew they wouldn't let this chance slip. The Amethyst Order knight lifted his head. His name was Galluto.
"Elma, Gellik. You two intercept the enemy knight. If Cypress enters the fray, combine your strength."
"Lien and Ingis are there too," Elma answered. Of the four, she was the only woman—but in sheer skill, she was the greatest. She wanted to face Cypress alone.
"And there's also the one up in the sky who cut down Simlak. Part of the Mad Order of Knights has come."
It wasn't a difficult deduction. Even in this urgent situation, Galluto closed his eyes. It wasn't to show composure; it was because in a moment like this he felt the need to look coolly over the situation. It was an old habit. Drawing out time never suddenly produced some grand strategy; such cases were rare. But within the span of a single exhale, he could find composure. That way, at least he wouldn't do something stupid. Galluto opened his closed eyes again. In his dull-colored, brownish eyes, an uncompromising will settled.
"Impossible. Kill Cypress and pull out—then it's our victory. Leave the other knights to the main force and use every remaining means."
In sheer number of soldiers, they had twice as many. The outcome of the knights' duels would determine the battle's victory, but numbers couldn't be ignored. Still, what Galluto was saying now was an extreme method—using part of their doubled army simply to tie down the enemy knights' feet.
"Understood."
Within the Amethyst Order, including the slain Simlak, the four of them were equals, but in practice Galluto was regarded as the next vice-captain. Elma and Gellik nodded. Division of command before battle was the worst mistake. They were knights—trained and hardened from childhood, perfected war machines. What they hadn't foreseen, though, was only the existence of those battle-crazed savages and their companions.
While some waited, others prepared, and still others marveled, they moved in that moment. Galluto, Elma, and Gellik were knights. The three simultaneously sensed something ominous. Their intuition reacted before their hearing. Instantly they scattered in three directions.
Sound came late. Before that, a heavy object drew a line and grazed the spot where the three of them had been. It was a projectile so fast that even with a knight's dynamic vision they couldn't gauge its exact form. The three knights felt the air bunch at the center and a gust rise. For a brief instant, sound vanished. The projectile that had passed pulled in all the sound and air as it went, disappearing. It was like the stillness right before a typhoon. That stillness ended immediately.
Kwaaaaaaaang!
With a tremendous roar, a cloud of dust billowed up in the rear. It was the spot where part of the main force had been.
When the shock is too great, people can't even scream. Galluto knew that from experience. The scream always comes a bit late. Just as sound lags slightly—so it always is. Once the initial shock passes and one realizes that their limbs—or the comrade who had been talking beside them—has vanished, the moment they register it, humans inevitably let out a scream.
"...Kkyaaaagh!"
Like now.
"What—what is that?"
"An attack! Attack!"
"Magic!"
It was the moment when years of training lost meaning. Among humans struck by calamity, some fall into panic. Knights are calamity—beings specialized in nullifying the combat power of ordinary soldiers. Yet not all broke down. A few soldiers—not knights, yet still possessing heroic mettle—responded.
"Get your heads straight!"
"Form ranks! Disperse!"
"Even in hell—!"
"We fight on!"
The southern battle cry rang out. Even in hell, fight on! Some officers restored order in their units. Galluto stepped out from the dust cloud.
"Can you see?"
Of the three, Gellik had the best eyes. Narrowing them, he answered, "Four."
Whether the Naurillian main force moved or not, whether their commander fought in the sky or not, they moved as they pleased. They didn't know the madman named Rem. A continental proverb struck them: If you don't know, you pay for it.
***
"Kill them all. Enki."
Burnion spoke while pounding his chest near his heart instead of weeping. The role of bait was finished. All of them craned their necks back and looked up at the sky. Between the patches of blue and the wide-spreading clouds, tiny dots moved. The stones and spells that had been falling over their heads had stopped. They had become spectators—watching the falling gryphons, watching the gift of fortune descending from the heavens.
"Goddess of the Scales," Burnion murmured. She never placed her balance on one side only; she must have given their side as much as that. Beside him, Lapild muttered, "The War God has watched over us."
High above, Enkrid roaming the skies drew everyone's eyes.
Now, who held the advantage?
"Demonic one!"
"Madman!"
Some soldiers shouted in exultation. The veterans and the Red Cloak Order of Knights separately nodded but did not raise loud cheers. They knew a knight who had accomplished even greater feats than what Enkrid now displayed. They had endured watching his back, and watching his fights, they had honed their own skill. Though a shiver ran through them, they knew—if it were Cypress, he would prevail somehow. The sight of him accomplishing things even more reckless than what was happening above came vividly to mind. Was the nickname One Who Accomplishes Anything attached for nothing?
Because of that, the Order did not cheer noisily. Only two with lighter temperaments opened their mouths.
"Fights well!"
"Feels damn good to watch."
Even with all the harsh training, their natures never changed. The man leading them, Cypress, also showed a faint smile. The corners of his lips rose just enough, his eyes curving slightly.
"Good to see."
No further judgment—only that one line. At the same time, he gestured for Aurelia to come. The enemy's positions had been identified. It was time to fight.
"Ah, Master, the madmen moved first."
The official title was Mad Order of Knights. Aurelia had dropped the word Order entirely—and it was understandable.
"Quick, aren't they."
Did the old knight think of the cruelty of years? His eyes deepened—a gaze heavy with thought. He too knew it was time to fight. He had read the moment to act, same as they. Only, the madmen had been a bit faster—as though they'd already foreseen that their commander in that sky would win through overwhelming might. Suddenly the king's words came to mind. Crang, the king he served, had said:
"Everyone seems to think I've come to a dangerous place. On the contrary. I've taken refuge in the safest place in this war. Even if the power of the Sun Hand on my body fades, I am somewhere there's someone who'll protect me."
How bright those blue eyes of Crang had shone as he spoke. His golden hair reflected the sunlight, his eyes the color of the clear sky—vast, bottomless. A bold thought indeed.
"If the place where my knight stands isn't the safest, then what is?"
What was the implication of those words? He had staked his life on his army's victory. Even if they lost here, he wouldn't beg pitifully for his life. He would fight to the end and bet everything on the battle with the highest odds.
The southern army stalled for time and played tricks with gryphons. Originally, to expose those tricks, the Red Cloak Order of Knights should have been split and dispatched to the capital and other fronts, but the king kept them here.
"Guard what you wish—freely. Do as you please."
Even though they hadn't asked, the king had pledged it. Though not a knight, he had sworn an oath.
"Protect and fight for what you wish, Sir—that's what you desired, isn't it?"
Yes. It was. The soldiers of the south were brothers and family. If the order came, a knight was to throw them into the flames and rush in himself. His oath and vow were such. Yet heart, vow, and oath cannot always look toward the same place. Crang had pointed that out—he'd said it was fine to look the same way. The king had said it casually, then changed the subject, revealing instead his own wish.
"Who stands to gain if this war drags on? The Empire? The Demon-lands? I don't know. But one thing is clear—when this war lengthens, there will be many who suffer and grieve."
He hadn't spoken with only the fence of Naurillia in mind. Cypress newly felt the measure of his king—one beyond his own reach.
"It might be a political weakness," he thought, "but in today's Naurillia, there are no foolish nobles to oppose the crown." The Council of Ten, was it? Six were royalists; the remaining four were the king's own hands disguised as the aristocratic faction. Brilliant politics. Crang had told him all this.
"I intend to fight them all—the Demon-lands, the Empire, the entire continent, and everything that stirs up war."
At the king's speech, Cypress had nodded. To add one more interesting point—not me, he thought. The safest place the king had spoken of was not by his own side. The place the king meant was beside that Mad Order knight named Enkrid.
"Amusing, and more amusing still."
Cypress murmured as if reciting verse. His tone carried rhythm. He had always sung well; had he not become a knight, he would have been a fine minstrel. Only a few close attendants knew that he'd written the song that spread his name himself.
Aurelia knew her grandfather. He wasn't someone to feel things like wistfulness. Indeed, he didn't feel such clumsy emotions. In the eyes that had momentarily sunk still, interest brimmed once more.
"Aurelia."
"Yes."
"The ones left now aren't the last. Put effort into reconnaissance. Find through the main force whether more enemy troops are coming. Some detachments will already have crossed the border, but what we need to look at isn't the rear—it's the front. Our king has ordered us—strike forward."
And that aligned with his own wish as well.
"I trust the rear will hold on its own. We'll handle whatever comes charging from the front. Yes, I'll do so."
Aurelia briefly thought of her friend Aisia. The sword that guarded the royal family wasn't hers alone. The knight called gentle Cypress looked forward. Part of the Mad Order of Knights was already fighting. How well would they fight? They were, indeed, a sight worth watching.