AN: Now a new day starts.
Underneath the warm rays of the morning sun, Mersé walked along the muddy road leading north. Behind her was an army of five thousand soldiers accompanied by pack animals and supply wagons.
Mersé glanced over her shoulder. The two heroes from the Order of the Ever-Keen Blade were guarding the flanks of the army. At least they seemed to be doing their duties without complaining about the mud.
After a bit of searching, Mersé spotted Primera running through the grass alongside the road. The half-elf left practically no disturbance in the long blades of grass, and she was constantly looking around for possible threats.
Finally, Mersé's gaze landed on a certain young man with red hair. She quickly turned to face the front again, desperate to hide the reddening of her cheeks.
Seriously, what the hell was that idiot thinking? T-T-To come to my tent and…
A few hours ago, before the sun had even risen, Elt had secretly come to Mersé's tent. He'd picked this time because most of the camp was still sleeping, yet Mersé had already awoken to begin planning the day's march.
At the time, Mersé had expected him to be worried about their mission or about the people back home. Instead…
"Captain Mersé, the truth is, Sasha confessed her love to me a few days ago."
Mersé quickly slapped a hand over her mouth to avoid waking the camp with a surprised outburst.
"S-Seriously…?"
"And just now, I found out that Primera l-loves me as well," Elt continued. "And from her, I confirmed that Mar—Lady Wilmarina feels the same way…"
"You must be one of the last people in Lescatie to figure that out," Mersé said, shaking her head in disbelief. "Well, um… I have a bit of experience, talking to my soldiers about romance troubles… but…"
"It's more than just that, Captain… no, Mersé," Elt said. He stepped closer. "I want to… ask you something."
Mersé could remain steadfast in front of a horde of monsters, but she trembled at these simple words.
"Mersé… could it be…" Elt said.
"Not now," Mersé said, looking down at the ground. "I can't… answer that now. Maybe… Maybe wait until we finish our job out here and… get back to the capital…"
Since then the two of them hadn't exchanged a single word. But she could only delay the inevitable for a short time.
We've got enough on our plates already, trying to secretly change Lescatie's mind about monsters… Now's not the time for this!
Mersé tried to focus on just putting one foot in front of the other. It did nothing to calm her racing heart.
And besides… that sort of thing… doesn't suit me…
Because Mersé had lost both her parents, if for different reasons, she'd been forced to become independent and assertive at a young age. Combined with the scars she'd picked up from years on the frontline, she didn't fit Lescatie's ideal of femininity at all. And while men in the lower social classes didn't care so much for that ideal, they were too afraid to approach a hero… with one exception.
Gah! What am I supposed to say to him!? I've never had to deal with this before! And more importantly, why does he care what I think!? He's got three others already chasing after him, any one of them a better match! Heck, the cranky half-elf who keeps calling him an idiot would be better for him!
From a pragmatic perspective, it would be best if Elt picked Wilmarina Noscrim in the end. Keeping Lescatie's strongest and most influential hero happy would be crucial for the plan to succeed. Anyone could understand that…
...So why does it bother me so much? It's not like I… like I…
While stewing in these concerns, Mersé sensed someone approach her from behind. She put on a normal expression and turned around to see it was Primera.
"There's a group of about three hundred up ahead, mostly humans," Primera reported. "It must be the mercenaries."
Mersé nodded. In a loud voice, she announced, "Alright, we're about to meet our allies for this mission! Make sure you've got your biggest smiles ready for them to see! Can't let foreigners think badly of our proud country!"
There was an enthusiastic response of "YEAH!", then the army continued marching. After climbing over a low hill, they finally came within sight of the mercenaries.
The band of mercenaries was extremely diverse. Some had the sorts of tattoos only seen in seafarers from the south coast. Some had dark brown skin typical of natives of the great western desert. Some were short and burly dwarves with thick beards. There was even one with the looks and garb of a Zipangan, which Mersé had never seen before except in books. And there seemed to be no standardisation in weapons and armour, with swords and plate armour alongside whips and leather pants—as in, one of the mercenaries was wearing leather pants and no other clothing, not even shoes.
At the head of the group was a man who looked to be in his thirties and had certainly spent much of his time fighting. He had just enough muscle to be strong yet still agile. He wore a steel breastplate with a leather coat over the top, leather pants and steel greaves, and all of this protective gear was slightly dirty and scarred from battle. An arming sword was sheathed at his hip and a wooden shield strapped to his back. His head was unarmoured, revealing short brown hair, grey eyes and an easygoing smile.
"Hey there!" the mercenary leader said. "It's nice to finally meet up with you. The name's Doon, and we're the mercs your country hired."
Mersé and her army came to a stop. Some of her army looked in awe at the mercenaries, having never seen foreigners before. Others—the two useless heroes among them—looked dismayed by the small size of the mercenary band.
"Nice to meet you too," Mersé replied. She held out a hand. "I'm Mersé Dascaros, the one in charge of this lot—and, with no one else around to do the job, I'm the one representing Lescatie."
Doon shook her hand. From that gesture, Mersé learned several useful facts.
First, Doon was not a hero, unless he was extremely good at hiding the strength of his spirit energy.
Second, he wasn't afraid to shake hands with a hero. Rather than overconfidence, this seemed to be born from abundant experience.
Third, he was good at breaking the ice when meeting clients. That was probably just as important as his fighting skills for allowing him to lead these mercenaries.
"Well, it's good to know they've got someone like you in charge," Doon said, taking his hand away. "How long've you been a hero for?"
"Six years, plus a year before that of being a regular soldier," Mersé replied. "What about you?"
They bantered about personal matters for a little while longer. But the main issue inevitably reared its ugly head.
"So, it looks to me like there's four heroes in your entire army, including you," Doon said.
There was no hint of accusation or disappointment in Doon's tone. Still, just the content of his words was enough to make the nearest soldiers flinch or look down at the ground.
"...Yeah," Mersé replied. "Me, that half-elf archer over there, and these two with the crystal swords."
At that moment, the two Gardner siblings approached. They actually managed to hide most of their distaste at interacting with foreigner mercenaries.
"Pardon me, but where is the rest of your group?" Zachariah asked.
"Surely you must have a camp elsewhere, or a reserve force..." Joanna said.
"This is all of us," Doon said bluntly. "Sorry to disappoint you."
The two idiots looked crushed by his reply. Before they could say anything else, Mersé cut in.
"I don't suppose any of you are heroes?"
"Actually…" Doon said, laughing slightly. "One of us is, sort of. Koyoi, mind introducing yourself?"
The mercenary with a Zipangu look stepped forward. She was a woman with long and straight black hair tied with a red ribbon, and dark brown eyes. She wore a yellow and red garment with oversized sleeves, a bracelet of beads on her right wrist, long white socks and thick-soled wooden clogs.
"As I've said to Doon-dono many times, I am not what you would call a hero," Koyoi said. Her voice was only slightly accented, suggesting she'd spent a long time outside of Zipangu. "My name is Amanomiya Koyoi, and I'm from a clan devoted to the slaying of monsters. It would be correct, however, to think of me as having fighting skills comparable to a hero."
Mersé had never thought a place like Zipangu could have monster slayers like that. Then again, she'd always heard of Zipangu and other monster nations as being hives of depravity and sin, so perhaps she ought to avoid judging any place she'd never been to.
Anyway, now's not the time to ask about that…
"So in total, that puts us at five hero-level fighters," Mersé said. "Plus an army of five thousand from Lescatie… of course, I have to mention the majority are for support, they've never been trained to fight…"
There was a moment of awkward silence. Mersé had known from the start of this impossible mission that it would be… impossible. Still, she managed to be more and more disappointed with each new revelation.
Primera approached. "On a different topic… have you found the monster camp yet? Do you know their numbers and composition?"
The mercenaries exchanged uncertain glances.
"We've found their camp, but haven't gone close enough for a proper look yet," Doon said. "Now that we've met up with you, we could try that out. The camp isn't even an hour away from here."
This wasn't news to Mersé, Primera or Elt, who'd all been notified of the camp's location by none other than Druella herself. However, it was certainly news to the army, judging from the panicked whispering from behind her.
"Wait, the monsters got this far into Lescatie!?"
"It hasn't even been two days since we left the capital!"
"Then… Then they must've already taken over so many villages…"
To bring about a semblance of quiet, Mersé slammed the base of her halberd into the ground. She turned to face her soldiers.
"ALRIGHT, LISTEN UP!" Mersé shouted. "I know you're all worried by this, I sure as hell am! If the monsters have reached this far, then that just makes our job even more important! I'm not saying we have to beat the monsters ourselves, but we need to find out all the intel we can, and—just as important—we need to convince everyone back home to send out EVERY HERO LESCATIE HAS!"
Mersé took a deep breath. What she would say next was crucial to the plan, so no mistake could be allowed.
"To do that, as many of us need to see the monsters as possible! For that to happen, I'm going to bring about a hundred—no, two hundred of you with me, to look at the monsters from a distance! And for that to succeed, you'll have to follow my orders to the letter! Understood!?"
"YES, MA'AM!" the soldiers shouted in response.
Mersé turned towards the mercenaries. "I know I officially have command of you now, but what do you think of this plan?"
"No, no, it's a great idea," Doon said. "I'll just ask that you let some of us join that scouting mission. Say, twenty or so?"
After a few more minutes of planning, the army began marching again. They marched until they were approximately twenty minutes away from the monster camp, as per the mercenaries' advice. Then a smaller group split off, comprising all of the heroes, two hundred regular soldiers—Elt included—and twenty of the mercenaries—including both Doon and Koyoi.
Mersé felt her heart speed up, though for a completely different reason to earlier this morning.
There's a lot of ways this could go wrong… I know more or less how Lescatians think, both soldiers and heroes, but these mercenaries are almost a total mystery… Well, guess there's no turning back at this point.
As they neared the monster camp, a ridge came into view. It would provide the perfect vantage point to "spy" on the monsters without being seen themselves. In fact, it was so perfect that Mersé wondered if anyone else felt suspicious.
"This is the place?" Mersé asked, putting on a show of confirming this fact.
"Yeah," Doon replied. "They're just on the other side…"
"Primera, check to make sure there's no traps," Mersé commanded.
Primera disappeared into grass that should have been too short to hide a person. Many of the soldiers and mercenaries, as well as two annoyingly inexperienced heroes, gasped at the feat. A few moments later, Primera reappeared and shook her head.
"All of you, listen carefully," Mersé said to her troops. "You're going to spread out along the ridge, each finding a place to watch from. Don't stick your heads too high up, and keep your voices down. If any of you gives us away, you won't have to worry about the monsters, I'll take your head first. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Ma'am!" the soldiers replied, not as loudly as before.
Doon gave out a similar order, then the group of over a hundred spread out along the ridge.
It was easy to tell when an individual had started looking over the ridge at the monster camp. Mersé just had to listen for the surprised reactions.
"What the—!?"
A nearby soldier slapped a hand over the mouth of the soldier who'd just shouted. The rest began whispering loudly.
"Th-There's so many!"
"We can't beat them! There's no way!"
"That's… what monsters really look like?"
"And… what are they doing?"
Beyond the ridge was a sprawling camp of tents and cookfires and piles of supplies. It looked far more professional than the camp the Lescatian army had made last night—proof that monsters weren't always less organised than humans. There had to be over two thousand of them, possibly three thousand.
And a large majority of those, at least three-quarters, were not combatants of any sort. Even if there was a chance they were acting, it was unlikely they could fool Mersé, who'd spent roughly a third of her life fighting and working with other fighters. She saw monster after monster who'd probably hurt themselves if handed a weapon.
...That said, there was still no chance of beating these monsters. First, Mersé's own army had a good proportion of support personnel. Second, it had just five hero-equivalents, only three of whom would be actually useful, and a mercenary group that had never before worked with the rest. Third, there were some terrifyingly dangerous monsters visible in the camp.
That baphomet… Mersé thought, looking at one of the legendary goat monsters who had black fur on her limbs. Isn't she the same one who defeated Mimil a while back?
Come to think of it, Mimil must've shown this exact camp to Lescatie's mages by now… How are things going over in the capital? We won't know until we get back…
Normally, a major army would include mages capable of telepathy so it could maintain contact with its home base. It was a sign of how badly organised this expedition was that they didn't even have something so basic.
"C-Captain Mersé?"
Mersé put that thought on hold and looked over at a soldier to her left. His name was Mallick and he was one of the newer recruits, still learning which end of the spear was supposed to go into the enemy.
"What is it?" Mersé asked
"Can… Can we really beat the monsters?" Mallick asked. From the expression on his face, he had another question but was too afraid to say it.
"Not with the force we've got out here," Mersé said honestly. "That's why it's all the more important that we get back home and tell everyone about this."
The soldier looked down at his shaking hands, then clenched them into fists.
Damn it all… Kids like these should be running around with their friends, getting drunk and doing stupid shit, not being sent out on impossible missions against an overwhelming enemy.
That reminded Mersé that she had started fighting at around the same age, just to have enough food to eat. In a sense, having such work available had saved her life.
...But if things in Lescatie were better, people like us might not have to fight in the first place…
Mersé then looked over at the mercenaries. They also looked dismayed by the sheer number of the monsters. However, they didn't look surprised by the peaceful atmosphere of the monsters.
They've seen a lot more of the world than I have… Just what kinds of lives have they lived? I really envy them...
Finally, Mersé looked over at the Gardner siblings, who were a few dozen paces away. Even from this distance, she saw their gaping mouths.
Thought this'd be a simple fight, didn't you? That there'd be maybe a few hundred monsters at best? That you could just win this and come home full of glory? Well, here's a cold hard dose of reality.
The group continued their observation of the monster camp for ten more minutes, then climbed back down the ridge and travelled back to the rest of the army.
-ooo-
Castor tried to lift up a hand. It was like trying to lift up a felled tree, and his hand fell back to the soft bed after barely even budging.
Guh… curse this frail body of mine…
It had only been a few hours since Castor had been woken up. His first memory was being hugged tightly by his wife and three of his daughters. Sadly, there hadn't been enough time to properly talk to them. His family soon had to leave to handle affairs of court, continue the investigation into the attempt on his life, or—in Benella's and Vivian's cases—rest after several sleepless nights of healing him. And his youngest daughter hadn't even been able to see his recovery in person.
I still can't meet her yet… not without drawing attention. I have to keep my recovery a secret… as I said to Francia to the others. But… soon…
Still, Castor's voice was working well enough. It was slightly tiring to speak, but he had to find out what was going on in Lescatie.
"Phillip… Eddard…" Castor said to his guards. "Has there been any word on the investigation…? Or on the monsters…?"
"Sorry, Your Majesty, we haven't heard anything new yet," Phillip replied. "But I'm sure Princess Selina is putting her all into finding out who did it."
"And as for the monsters, something terrible has happened," Eddard replied. "To make it look like they're actually doing something, the Senate gathered and sent out a force of just five thousand soldiers, accompanied by just four heroes. They also managed to get some mercenaries from outside Lescatie, and… somehow… they think that'll be enough to defeat the monsters."
"Those… shortsighted… fools!"
Castor put strength into his body and tried to sit up. All that accomplished was filling him with dull pain and causing his guards to panic.
"Your Majesty, you still have to rest!" Phillip said, hurrying over to the bed.
"Yes, the princesses said it'd still take another two days before you can move!" Eddard added.
Then an unfamiliar, feminine voice ran out through the royal bedroom.
"They're right, you know? Stressing your body will only make things worse."
Three pairs of eyes immediately turned towards the door of the room, where the voice had come from. Then a monster, a succubus, a lilim appeared there.
"Hello, King Castor, ruler of Lescatie," the lilim said, brushing a lock of white hair out of her face. "I am Druella, fourth of the lilim, and I am here to—"
The two royal guards drew their swords and charged. An act of undeniable bravery… yet it was futile.
Druella drew a rapier from—Castor couldn't even tell, it was all happening so fast—and disarmed Phillip and Eddard. Then she restrained them using tentacles of pure darkness.
"H-Help!" Phillip shouted. "A lilim's broken in!"
"His Majesty is in danger!" Eddard said.
"You can spare yourselves the effort, no one outside this room can hear you," Druella said. "More importantly…"
"You might corrupt us, Druella," Castor said, as firmly as his constitution allowed. "But Lescatie will not fall to you. Our heroes will find you, and they will stop you."
It was meaningless bluster. Even if Castor himself was not crucial to Lescatie—as recent events showed—there was little hope for Lescatie when a lilim could easily waltz into its most-defended centre. Even now, his body and heart were seized by terror.
My daughters… I can only hope you can fight your way out, and bring Francia and anyone else you can save...
"I don't plan on doing anything like that," Druella said, pulling over a chair to sit next to Castor's bed. "First, forced transformation is against the laws of monsterkind. Second, I'm aware that you love your wife dearly. Third, these two—" she glanced towards the two guards, "—wouldn't be interested."
Phillip and Eddard gasped. Shortly afterwards, Druella released them from her dark tentacles, which dissipated into black particles. Druella also dropped her rapier into her shadow, where it disappeared from view.
"That should give you a better idea of my intentions," Druella said. "And to help that along, I'll give you a reminder of the past. Almost three weeks ago, you went to a Senate meeting. There, Duke Soren brought a bill on the country's expenditures for the last month to your attention."
There were more gasps, one coming from even Castor's wearied throat. He still remembered that meeting quite well, it was one of the final meetings he'd attended as a useless figurehead.
"You… If you could already infiltrate Lescatie back then…" Castor said. "How has it not fallen already…?"
"Because sneaking past your defences is easy, relatively speaking," Druella replied. "Fixing deeply rotten institutions is much harder."
"Fixing…?" Phillip said, picking up his sword from the floor but not attempting to use it again.
"Just what do you want?" Eddard asked. "No one just helps out the enemy for free."
"What I want is an end to all of this conflict between my race and yours," Druella said. "But for something I want to actually achieve, it's to end the conflict between Lescatie, the most militaristic nation of humanity, and monsterkind. I want that to be achieved not by force, but by convincing you to agree to a ceasefire."
"The idea of a ceasefire with monsters is… unthinkable…" Castor said. "But state your terms… It is not as if we're in any position to resist..."
Druella took out a thin bundle of paper and held it out. "Since you're clearly in no state for a prolonged conversation, I've written down the details for you to read. If there's anything you need clarified, feel free to ask."
There was a moment of silence. Then Eddard took the bundle—acting as if he'd just picked up a venomous snake from a thorny bush—and held it near Castor's face.
There are tales of monster contracts with wicked magics, which ensnare any human who reads them… well, I suppose I have no choice here.
Castor read Druella's proposal carefully. His body might have been frail even before his "accidental" fall, but his eyes and brain worked well enough.
"One: The Holy Theocracy of Lescatie shall cease all hostilities against monsters, and monsters shall cease all hostilities against the Holy Theocracy of Lescatie. A party may not break this provision unless it has already been broken by the other party, that is to say, self-defence is permitted.
Addendum One: 'Hostilities' are defined as any actions that infringe on the life, liberty or property of either party. This includes killing, rape, abduction, theft and coercion.
Two: Aid personnel from the monster nations shall be permitted to enter Lescatie to help in reconstruction of damaged or obsolete infrastructure, heal the injured and sick, and provide technological advances.
Three. No humans will be compelled to become monsters or incubi, nor compelled to serve monsterkind more generally. Only those who request the transformation willingly can receive it."
That was… completely the opposite of how Castor had been raised to think of monsters. Even now, he wondered if this was some cruel trick, if Druella took joy in making her victims willingly sign away their freedom.
But, in the end, there was nothing else he could do. He resumed reading.
"Four: Due to no longer being needed as a bastion against monsterkind, the Holy Theocracy of Lescatie will cease to accept donations from its neighbouring Order nations. As part of this, it will cease to coerce its neighbouring Order nations for greater donations. It may form conventional trade and diplomatic relations with those neighbours, should all relevant parties agree.
Five: Freedom of religion will be permitted within the Holy Theocracy of Lescatie. Worship of the Chief God will continue to be permitted, with the exception of the principle that monsters are innately evil, since that would be antithetical to the cessation of hostilities in Point One.
Addendum Five: Worship of the Fallen God will continue to be forbidden.
Castor read through the rest of the proposal, Eddard turning over the pages for him when necessary. There was a total of thirty five points in all, many with addenda to give more details.
"...It's very thorough…" Castor admitted. "But it doesn't matter if the most basic issue can't be solved... how do you plan on getting Lescatie's people to forget their faith… to forget everything we have ever known...? Or to believe you are even telling the truth…?"
Castor met Druella's gaze head-on. He might be the most pathetic king in Lescatie's history, but he still had his pride.
"No, I don't expect you to forget all that," Druella said. "Much of this proposal is open to negotiation, so you may push for the most beneficial outcome for your country. And… how about this? You must have informants out in the capital and probably elsewhere in Lescatie. For the next few days as you recover, just listen to what they report… it might just surprise you."
Druella stood up from her chair.
"I'll leave you to think on this proposal," Druella said. "Before I leave, is there anything else you'd like to ask?"
After a few moments' hesitation, Castor asked, "The second point… one of the ways you plan to help us is to heal the sick… is that possible for someone who… has been sick since birth?"
Castor should never had asked such a question. He should never have shown such an opening to a monster. And he would never have asked simply for his own sake… but for the sake of his youngest daughter?
After spending time helpless in bed… I'm starting to understand how Francisca must feel…
"It's possible," Druella replied. "And it doesn't necessarily mean turning her into a monster, either."
Then Druella disappeared from view. The door didn't open, so after a few moments, Phillip and Eddard began inspecting the room.
"...Nothing," Phillip said. "Did she somehow pass through the door, or through a wall, or… teleport?"
"Or did she change her shape to go under the door?" Eddard wondered.
"That is not what matters now…" Castor said. "All we can do now… is decide what path will cause the least harm to Lescatie…"
Though even as he said that, Castor wondered. He'd always been taught that monsters were abominations driven only by lust, that Lescatie—just like every other nation of the Order—had to oppose them at all costs.
He'd also been taught that humans were inherently good and united, that despite occasional disagreements, they could still work together against the monsters. That thinking had informed his earliest years as king… much to his sorrow.
But… this was my first time actually meeting a monster…
Castor would have to discuss all this with his family when he had the chance. All of his family.