"War's flower is The Mad Order!"
Some soldiers shouted that, but they didn't go so far as to cheer. The words "War's flower is The Mad Order" spread quietly, but there were no soldiers screaming themselves hoarse.
They too were well-trained regulars. Their commanders in particular were outstanding. They calmed their men. The battle wasn't over yet.
The knights were dead, but the enemy army remained. With enemies still left, it was not the time to get drunk on victory.
If Enkrid ever found out later, he'd have told them to cut out that kind of slogan, but as for the chant he faintly heard now, he just let it in one ear and out the other. Marcus, who had come up to him, asked,
"How did you, I mean, that horse— is that Odd-Eye?"
He was so shocked that his question came out unrefined. No matter how much a man prided himself on his usual cleverness, it was hard to stay calm even in a moment like this. All the more so when he'd been prepared to die and had come out alive.
Enkrid looked into Marcus's trembling pupils. His eyes were a whirlpool of violent emotion. Deep inside them, gratitude was soaked in. Strictly speaking, the one who had saved his life wasn't Enkrid but Odd-Eye.
Without a winged member of the knight order, he wouldn't even have been able to think of coming this far.
'Even so, he would have moved.'
It was a thought that flowed on its own, about something that hadn't even happened.
'If it were Rem, he would have known how to sprint in a short burst.'
He would have run even if it meant burning up all his stamina and sorcery.
'Then he'd have ended up fighting over Marcus's corpse.'
No matter what means you used, you couldn't be faster than a horse that flew in a straight line without rest, ignoring the terrain.
"Save your thanks for Odd-Eye later. Let's go meet the enemy army."
"Ah, right."
It wasn't as if they'd only met once or twice. Knowing he was a man who wouldn't miss what needed doing even without a long explanation, Enkrid went straight to the point.
"Enki."
Aisia came over as well.
"Just now I almost fell for you. Really."
She was just as moved.
"The women around me are plenty with a fairy and a witch."
"I didn't mean I really fell for you."
Enkrid spoke and stepped toward the enemy. Leaving Odd-Eye where it was and walking at a quick pace, he made Marcus dismount to follow, and Aisia came along too.
"So what do we do?"
Aisia asked. Marcus naturally turned his gaze to Enkrid as well.
Originally Marcus was the one with decision-making authority, but Enkrid was the man who led one of Naurillia's two knight orders, and right now he was the hero who had overturned the course of the battlefield.
Regardless of command authority or anything else, if he wanted to, he could pretty much do as he pleased. Of course, if he tried something outrageous, they'd stop him.
"Strip them of all their weapons, horses, and equipment and hold them for three days. After that, send them back."
Enkrid knew what Crang had done on the Southern Front.
He borrowed Crang's perspective and thinking to look over the battlefield and weigh it. On top of that, he piled Kraiss's usual nagging and overlaid Luagarne-style tactical thinking.
As his thoughts accelerated, he came up with a way to handle the enemy troops that remained.
'Lower their morale and demote them to dead weight.'
If Kraiss had heard, he would have clapped and nodded, and Abnaier, the genius strategist of Azpen, would have stood right beside him with his mouth hanging open in admiration.
"Your head works this well too? That's unfair."
He would probably have said something like that.
"Do we really need to?"
Aisia asked back. She didn't think too deeply about it.
It wasn't that she lacked experience on the battlefield, but she wasn't sure it was right for their allies, Enkrid, and herself to get tied down here for that.
Fortunately, Marcus was the sort whose head worked. After turning the idea over and over, he grasped the meaning of what Enkrid had said.
He hadn't earned the nickname of war maniac for nothing, nor had he become a battalion commander for nothing. He also knew the habits of the Southern Army. Because he knew them, he had prepared this duet of ambush and trap here.
Marcus, having thought it through, spoke.
"You mean not even giving them a chance to finally let their rage explode."
He would do that while letting the Southern Army live.
Enkrid nodded at Marcus's words.
What would happen if they annihilated the Southern Army here? It would be the same as smashing the detached corps the enemy had sent.
Then their own army's morale would soar, but would the enemy just beat the ground and regret the troops they'd lost?
The Southern Army was a little different. They would howl for revenge and shout that they'd fight even from hell.
'The two knights are already dead.'
Wars on the continent were represented by small elites. The number of knights was the standard that divided great powers.
Of course, you couldn't cut military spending or shrink your army if you wanted to guard your territory, but when it came time to fight, if you had no knights, it meant nothing.
Why had a small petty kingdom on what people called the western side of the Central Continent survived until now? Because an old knight stood guard at the gate leading into that little land.
'The enemy troops that remain are meaningless.'
Even so, handing them back their weapons and equipment and sending them off would be a bad move.
'The best move.'
Their own side would rest and preserve their strength while collecting the enemy's gear and locking them up between the cliffs that had become a natural prison.
They would give them only minimal rations, wear them down, then send them back after four days.
'The High Pontiff is ruthless.'
He was the sort of man who would chase his own soldiers to the ends of hell and kill them if they scattered and ran.
That fear left behind by such a High Pontiff would be vivid in their minds.
'If their bodies are intact, they'll go back to their main force.'
From the start, the thought of deserting like this wouldn't have entered the commander's mind either. At most a few terrified soldiers might try to run.
The world wasn't that forgiving. If you deserted without a single piece of equipment or supplies, you'd just become one meal for the monsters.
They would go back. That was how you'd send back an army that hadn't even eaten properly.
It was the birth of a load of baggage that walked on two legs and still breathed.
In that process you ruled out cutting off limbs or killing them. You sent them back in one piece, alive.
'Use the Southern Army's traits.'
If you killed them all, the Southern Army that remained would burn with rage as fuel.
The High Pontiff was the sort of man who would absolutely do that. So you didn't even give him the chance.
Marcus understood and thought this far only because Enkrid had said it; if he had been alone, he never would have come up with such a bold and extreme move.
"And you're leaving?"
He asked as he said it.
"Because it's not just one detached corps."
Enkrid predicted that the arrow loosed from the south wasn't just one.
From now on they would have to find the ones that remained.
What would he do if he were in their place? It was a time when Kraiss-style fighting was needed. Read, grasp, and predict the enemy's psychology.
'If it were me, I'd send one more force to ravage this land.'
A force meant to cut supply lines if things went wrong, capture cities, and burn down a few domains.
Enkrid himself would never actually do that, but the lord of the great southern nation of Rihinstetten would.
Even if he didn't, it was hard to just let it slide. Doubts and suspicion would remain, so they had to check.
If they left it alone, someday it would come back as Jaxon's dagger.
Jaxon's dagger meant a knife that stabbed you in the back before you even realized it.
"What are you even talking about?"
Aisia, who had become a knight purely through her sword work, tilted her head.
She too was an excellent commander at carrying out tactics, but seeing war from this kind of grand national perspective was a bit much.
This was, in truth, the viewpoint of a king, his retainers, and knight commanders.
"A proper knight commander, aren't you."
Marcus spoke, recalling old days.
The feeling was fresh. At the same time, a thrill greater than what he'd felt when Enkrid killed the two knights ran through him, and all the fine hairs over his body stood on end.
'How far is this bastard going to go?'
Would he really erase the Demon-lands and erase war from the continent? Would that absurd goal really be achieved?
He heard the king's words, followed his will, and knew the madness of the man called Enkrid.
Even so, Marcus didn't think it would be accomplished in his own generation.
'It will take a long time.'
They would need people in each generation to whom this intent would be passed down.
Because Marcus saw it that way, he had put his efforts into cultivating talent.
So that someday there would be those who inherited their will.
'With my measure, I can't gauge it.'
Marcus acknowledged that.
Therefore, this hero's path forward must not be blocked.
The hairs standing on end stayed that way.
"Go, Enkrid. To where you need to go."
"I will."
Enkrid nodded readily and went on.
"Before that, I'll just correct the delinquents in that army over there."
A murmur rose among the enemy troops.
They were the sort who would still charge even after two of their knights died.
"U-waaah!"
The Southern Army's giant unit burst out from the edge where the flames had been contained.
Enkrid walked forward and faced the giant unit. There were thirty heads, just in sheer numbers.
They were a mass of giants in a perfectly fixed number and formation. Their presence was enough to make most monsters tuck their tails.
'Giant army.'
The south had achieved something the conquerors of the continent had once dreamed of.
Enkrid looked into the eyes of the ones who had stepped out.
He'd seen a giant go mad on the way west before, and this was similar to then.
Only, compared to back then, the ones standing before him now were like refined steel.
There were thirty giants drilled into something like formal drills and equipped with similar gear.
"One human!"
"Kill him!"
Once in battle, giants entrusted everything to their fighting instinct.
These ones were the same.
Enkrid didn't know how to talk down giants like that, so his method of correcting them had to be Audin-style.
He drew Dawn and swung.
With a single slash, a giant's neck flew into the sky.
Because the difference in size was so stark, the sight was all the more striking.
The time it took for thirty giants to become attendants of the War God was shorter than the time it had taken for the two knights to die.
"Crazy."
Here, only Aisia had the eye to glimpse a fraction of the might Enkrid had shown.
How did he turn into more of a monster every time she saw him?
She couldn't even imagine catching up.
That didn't mean she would sing of despair and frustration.
Aisia now knew how to walk straight ahead.
As it had been the day before yesterday and yesterday, today and tomorrow, and from now on, she would swing her sword.
That was the way of life she knew.
After cutting down the thirty giants, Enkrid simply went back, took some dry rations and supplies, and climbed onto Odd-Eye's back again.
"You're just going?"
Aisia asked from behind.
The enemy troops were merely watching in breathless silence, and Marcus called in the commanders and passed along the plan.
There were no objections.
A knight on horseback had come and cleaned up the battlefield for them. His will was the law.
Enkrid glanced over at the enemy ranks and spoke.
"Don't let your guard down, Aisia."
With one of her arms injured, they might underestimate her.
If he wasn't there, the force that had to hold them in check would be Aisia.
"I don't do that kind of thing."
This was right after watching Enkrid fight.
Passion boiled up in Aisia.
She already knew this man had a knack for making people's blood boil just by being watched, but today he'd gone a bit further.
'Might that doesn't lose even against two knights.'
Sword swings full of self-confidence.
Aisia's eyes were full of strength.
There was no need to worry.
"Phew."
Enkrid, out of sight atop Odd-Eye, caught his breath.
He was tired.
It wasn't an empty word.
He had eaten and slept on horseback, and as soon as he'd arrived here, he'd gone into violent sword work.
Even for a knight, it was only natural to be exhausted.
That didn't mean it was a time to put off what needed doing, so he urged on the friend beneath him.
"Let's go, Odd-Eye. Just a little more."
Neigh.
At Enkrid's words of encouragement, Odd-Eye shot back that he should worry about himself.
It enjoyed running and flying.
This much didn't even make fatigue pile up.
"Clear the front!"
"Make way!"
"The knight commander is flying!"
"War's flower is Mad Order!"
The surviving army opened a path to the left and right and sent him off.
Marcus hadn't ordered it, and no one had led it.
It just happened naturally.
Enkrid ran between the ranks spread out to either side.
Odd-Eye galloped, then kicked off the ground and took flight.
Boom!
The ground caved in and dirt flew up, and above it wings pumped up and down, pushing the air and lifting the body.
He'd experienced it several times, but it was hard to get used to the feeling of his organs lurching.
Flying through the sky again like that, Enkrid headed for Viscount Harrison's domain, the territory adjoining the Southern Army.
If the Southern Army moved out, it was the place most likely to run into them.
***
"Why are they just passing by?"
A part of Rem's assault unit guarded Viscount Harrison's domain.
They behaved like a permanent garrison.
Some of the unit members spotted enemy soldiers suddenly popping out.
Was it a fight? It was the natural question if they were enemies.
"Those are Southern Army."
One of the assault soldiers recognized the opposing army.
The Southern Army had chosen its army's symbol as flags with five colors.
Red, purple, blue, ocher(yellowish-brown), and black.
They were the famous Five-Color Army of Rihinstetten.
The colors symbolized the five knight orders that had once existed.
Ruby, Amethyst, Sapphire, Mud, and Onyx Orders of Knights.
The south had many famous gemstone mines.
The names had been made after that.
Only the Mud Order had a slightly different meaning.
Of those, the flag that had come out here was ocher.
It was a unit under the Mud Order.
"They're the toughest bastards even among the Southern Army."
At the words of the soldier who recognized the flag, tension spread through the domain.
"We should abandon this place and pull out."
The captain of the assault unit coolly assessed the situation.
Their numbers were what they were, and if even a single knight was mixed in, they'd all die.
'What's the best option?'
Have a few hold the retreat route and have the rest fall back. Run.
"We cannot do that."
The vineyards that remained here and the crops about to be harvested were Viscount Harrison's whole life.
They were his life. They were everything. They were like his very life.
"I will stay here."
In the end, their worries turned out to be groundless.
No battle occurred.
The enemy flying the ocher flag moved north past the domain.
These men knew better than anyone what city lay up there.
Border Guard, the city that Enkrid and the Mad Order of Knights had vacated.