Before the cool mist of dawn had yet to dissipate.
The sound of Ogres shaking the earth reached this place—the Habsburg Republic's headquarters—with raw clarity. The Ogres' footsteps carried an ominous magical power. That terrifying vibration only served to silence the soldiers all the more.
— Gulp.
Someone swallowed hard. In a single battle—and one where the combined forces of both armies barely exceeded forty thousand—it was almost unprecedented for two hundred Ogres to be deployed. The Republic's ranks were enveloped in a strange silence.
"Raise your spears high!"
"Anchor them firmly into the ground! Bend at the waist!"
"Let's have some fun today!"
Perhaps it was an attempt to steady the chaotic atmosphere. The veterans kicked soldiers' backsides or slapped their backs, trying to shift the mood. A few soldiers responded in kind, shouting back loudly. Only then did the air among the crowd begin to warm, if only slightly.
Kurz Schleiermacher whistled beside Elisabeth.
"The old-timers are doing a proper job. I'm telling you, there's something different about guys who've been around that long. Though I wonder if our proud citizens of the Republic will be able to hold up."
"Schleiermacher."
Elisabeth said flatly.
"This is not your personal office. Watch your mouth."
"Ha, haha. My apologies, Consul."
Kurz Schleiermacher laughed awkwardly and saluted with his right hand. Since the battle began—no, long before it even started—Elisabeth had been sharp-edged and frigid. It was as though an invisible snowstorm silently howled only around her.
"They brought the Ogres to the front instead of the flanks. They mean to neutralize our cavalry. And we have no choice but to let them, even knowing this. Or... perhaps the same applies to them..."
Elisabeth stared ahead and murmured without cease.
Kurz had noticed for a while now that Consul Elisabeth's habit of talking to herself had grown. The frequency of her nightmares was as high as ever, but for some reason, her talking to herself seemed particularly frequent of late. At first, Kurz Schleiermacher thought the Consul was asking for his opinion and answered diligently, but he soon realized she didn't need a conversation partner.
"They've chosen their line of advance well, too. They skirted around rivers and forests with remarkable precision. They could have arrived sooner, but they deliberately took their time. Well, they've got skilled commanders on their side too."
So Kurz decided to just half-heartedly play along. She was, after all, the Consul of an entire nation. It wouldn't do to just leave her muttering to herself. Kurz Schleiermacher was briefly moved by his own profound thoughtfulness. He honestly couldn't understand why a man as considerate as himself wasn't popular with women.
"We went to the trouble of erecting a palisade, but if the target is an Ogre, it's rather pointless, wouldn't you say?"
"No. It provides psychological comfort to the militia, to every soldier. There's an enormous difference between having a sturdy palisade in front of you and having nothing at all. At the very least, it will anchor the militia in place so they don't run."
—Until the Ogres blew it away like a piece of sorghum stalk, that was.
Neither Elisabeth nor Kurz bothered to mention what came after. To the Republic's command, the militia were neither more nor less than meat shields. Bodies placed out front purely to preserve the main fighting force unscathed…
"Still, I was surprised. That you would use citizen-soldiers in such a role without the slightest hesitation. War is, at the end of the day, the domain of soldiers. Isn't that something Your Excellency has always maintained?"
"I have abandoned every conviction in this war."
Elisabeth smiled coolly. There was a tone of self-mockery in it.
"There's no way to fight Dantalion while holding onto your pride. You're either consumed by your own convictions or consumed by Dantalion—there's no escape from that binary. That man sees right through the convictions of whoever he faces."
And so she had thrown it all away.
The bare minimum ethic that one must protect the people. The axiom that the state is identical to its citizens. Every belief that the human being called Elisabeth had built over the course of her life—she had cast them all aside.
The person standing here now, gazing across the plain, was simply a soldier born with a talent for war. To put it more precisely, a single weapon.
"I plan to officially step down once the war is over."
"Pardon?"
Kurz was genuinely startled.
The footsteps of Ogres were approaching from the far side, but this time he couldn't help but completely forget about the battle. He nearly blurted out whether she had lost her mind. The only reason Kurz could respond even halfway normally was thanks to his habit of cracking jokes even in situations like this.
"D-Did you stay up all night? The Consul's Excellency's mouth is spewing utter nonsense."
"You have no concept whatsoever of keeping your mouth shut. It's almost mysterious how someone with that temperament rose all the way to Captain of the Guard."
Elisabeth grumbled in exasperation.
"Well, I did come from the Shadows, and Your Excellency championed meritocracy, so… No. Don't try to redirect the conversation! Is this true, Your Excellency? No—Your Excellency is catastrophically devoid of talent for jokes, so of course you're serious. Let me rephrase the question. Are you in your right mind, Your Excellency?"
"……Don't worry—I intend to keep my seat at least until I've cut the Head of the Imperial Guard's neck off."
"What? Why would you suddenly come to that decision?"
Elisabeth shrugged.
"It's not sudden. I've been thinking about it for a long time. I kept it secret from you, but I've been suffering from all manner of hallucinations for roughly two years now."
"……."
Kurz Schleiermacher instinctively swept his gaze around the room. The two of them were conversing in the Calmar language. This was a trick only possible because both of them were fluent in every language on the continent. There was no way their adjutants could understand, but Kurz had spent his entire life as a senior member of an intelligence organization—checking his surroundings was second nature.
"Your Excellency."
Kurz Schleiermacher's tone of voice had changed. The playfulness was gone, replaced by a colorless sound that had sunk to an unfathomable depth.
"Who else knows about this secret?"
"Does it look like I'm the sort of person who'd go around blabbing about something like this? And even if someone had noticed, they wouldn't be in this world anymore."
"……I'd been wondering why Your Excellency's handmaidens were periodically replaced on rotation. It wasn't merely counterintelligence against infiltrators. I understand now."
Elisabeth replaced her handmaidens every three months at the shortest, and one year at the longest. There had been hushed murmurs about whether she was being excessively wary of outside interference, but this was the hidden truth behind it. The handmaidens who served Elisabeth at her closest side would inevitably learn of the Consul's secret before long. And on the road home after their retirement, they would become cold, lifeless guests in the land of the dead.
"That the head of state of an entire nation is a candidate for the insane asylum, suffering from hallucinations. If it were a joke, it'd be an ominous one, and if it isn't a joke, it's even less laughable."
A bitter smile settled on Elisabeth's lips.
"And yet, the only reason I haven't stepped down from my position is because of one thing alone—because a nightmare by the name of Dantalion still prowls the continent. There is no one but myself who can stand against Dantalion. Call it overconfidence if you will. Call it arrogance if you like. But at the very least, this is the cold, hard reality and truth as far as I'm concerned."
It was like a race in which both runners charged forward carrying burning straw in their arms.
One of them would have to collapse. But if they kept running like this, eventually even they themselves would be engulfed in flame and destroyed. They had no choice but to keep moving their feet, even knowing they would burn……
"When Dantalion's adopted daughter sought asylum, I knew instinctively. It was the last chance. Dragging things out would only let Dantalion's empire grow more firmly entrenched. So I wanted to settle things once and for all while I was still in my right mind……."
Perhaps a measure of personal greed was mixed into Elisabeth's resolve.
Elisabeth listened intently to the auditory hallucinations that grew denser with each passing day and thought: This is my duty. But if my intellect withers and my judgment dulls—who will step forward to keep Dantalion in check?
Above all else, she wanted to settle things with Dantalion while she was still at the peak of her abilities. No one could deny it was reckless greed on her part, and she had no excuse for it. But even so, Consul Elisabeth hardened her resolve……
"Therefore, our objective is not to overwhelm the Empire. Dantalion—all we need to do is cut off that man's head, and we will have won."
Elisabeth clenched her fist tight. The eyes of the woman once called the Emerald of Habsburg burned fiercer than they ever had.
Just then, the Ogres were nearly upon the Republic's defensive line. The sight of the militiamen trembling with fear was plainly visible even from here. They clung to their long pikes, using the wooden palisade as a mental fortress.
"Pikes, brace!"
"Braaaace!"
The aides screamed themselves hoarse.
The militiamen gritted their teeth and thrust their long pikes forward. They planted the butt of the spear firmly into the ground, gripping the shaft with the right hand while bracing it with the left. It was the posture cavalrymen traditionally adopted when charging. But what bore down on them now was a Monster far more terrifying than any cavalry charge.
"Archers, fire!"
"Loose!"
Once the Ogres entered range, the archers released their bowstrings with grim faces. Hundreds of arrows streaked through the air. Whether it was because the targets were so enormous, the arrows themselves landed with a surprisingly decent hit rate, striking the Ogres' hide.
— KRAAAAH!
But it was futile. No matter how sharp the arrowheads were, piercing the Ogres' thick hide proved nearly impossible. The vast majority of arrows bounced off without so much as embedding in the flesh. The Ogres, infuriated by the stinging nuisance, charged even more furiously.
"Ugh, aah……aaah……"
"There's no way we can stop this……how are we supposed to……"
"Don't let go of your grip!"
The moment the militiamen were about to lose their nerve, the aides shouted with practiced urgency.
"The second you let go of your grip, you're all dead men! Hold the spear shafts tight! Grip them hard enough to punch through an Ogre's eyeballs!"
Don't let go of your grip on the spear.
The concise, direct order made the militiamen obey on instinct. As if their very lives depended on this grip, they poured every ounce of strength into it. That's right—hadn't they been given palisades sturdier than any before? It would be fine. It would definitely be fine.
It didn't even take thirty seconds for the militiamen's futile hope to shatter.
— CRRAAAASH!
The Ogres swung their massive iron clubs. A single blow shattered the palisades into splinters that went soaring into the air. The militiamen stared in horror at the sight of wooden fragments scattering everywhere. And before their eyes could even fully open, the Ogres took one step forward and launched a second strike.
"GRAAAH!"
"H-Help me!"
Chunks of flesh went flying.
Black blood sprayed into the air before crashing back down to the ground. Innards and bones came with it. The Ogres charged forward as though nothing stood in their path, and with every stride they took, human flesh was torn asunder in every direction.
"Consul."
Kurz Schleiermacher looked at Elisabet.
But Elisabet shook her head.
"Not yet. Wait."
Consul Elisabet looked down at the sight of the militiamen being slaughtered with cold indifference.