"The right wing of the central forces is retreating. I'd recommend pulling back the left wing as well."
While listening to Monica's report, I watched our allies struggling to hold the line up ahead. The center, commanded by General Broa, was formidable. But the central army—its right and left wings—had been broken.
Between House Walt's relentless attacks and their dogged persistence, the fighting had been grinding and unremarkable. Both the left and right wings were in retreat, and with the center jutting forward, we were approaching the tenth day of this battle.
Unusual for a field engagement, but we were essentially conducting a siege. Right now, all we could do was endure.
"Send out messengers. Let them continue retreating, and send the wounded to the rear."
The units and soldiers sent to the rear were reorganizing there. Even as reinforcements arrived one after another, the wounded now outnumbered them.
Monica turned to me.
"...Chicken, I recommend we retreat. Continuing further is pointless."
I clenched my fists.
—House Walt's encampment.
Near the command tents, Maisel could be seen surveying the battlefield. The battle appeared to be tilting heavily in Maisel's favor.
Even if reinforcements kept arriving from the rear, the enemy had pulled back even further, so it was only a matter of time before they were worn down completely.
And yet, something about it didn't sit right with Maisel.
"Strange. I'm not sensing the same tenacity they showed on the first day."
As Maisel murmured from a chair, Beil—serving as adjutant—offered his take on Maisel's concern.
"Perhaps their fighting spirit was badly broken on the second day? Besides, on the right wing, House Foxes are fighting each other. They've been clashing spectacularly while continuing to retreat, and the enemy on the left wing has also pulled back, leaving the center protruding."
Maisel nodded.
"In a sense, it's a fortress. That's exactly why it's difficult to change formations. On top of that, they've become immobile. I understand all that, but something still nags at me."
They shifted formations flexibly as they fought, and the army under Maisel's command moved exactly as ordered. Banseim's strongest wasn't just for show—the army truly moved like a single living creature.
That was why everyone believed victory was within reach. They believed it, but Maisel felt something nagging at him. If Gerard of House Foxes had been there, he might have offered advice, but right now he was separated, fighting alongside his own daughter on the right wing.
Bail sensed Maisel's unease.
"True, our separate detachment was broken by the enemy, but looking at the whole picture, it's a minor issue. If we keep pressing like this, the enemy will be forced to abandon the fortifications they themselves built and flee. From there, entering a pursuit battle should make victory easy, wouldn't it?"
Maisel nodded, resting a hand on his chin.
(That's right. Certainly, that works. But after reading our hand so perfectly on the first day and reacting accordingly... this manner of fighting? Making soldiers fight according to orders is indeed difficult, but in that case, they should have crumbled even sooner)
Not a field battle, but the sensation of assaulting an enemy fortress made Maisel suddenly recall his father's face.
(...Come to think of it, Father was unparalleled when it came to capturing castles and fortresses)
Why, now... did he remember his father's face? Maisel found himself just a little bothered by it—.
Night.
Watching my own forces begin their withdrawal, I gazed up at the night sky.
Then, Eva approached.
"Sorry to bother you while you're looking at the stars, but I have various reports. I'm not sure if they're enemy guerrillas or scouts, but I've driven off that kind of group."
Eva was an Elf, her stamina and strength surpassing that of ordinary soldiers. Moreover, she led the Dark Elves, and those Dark Elves were Elves who lived in the forest. Not only were they strong in the dark, but they were also swift and excel at this kind of work.
"...Sorry. I'm piling troublesome work on you."
"It's fine. I expect compensation, you know. For the Dark Elves cooperating, it's less for Rairel's sake and more for their own."
I smiled slightly.
"Still, it'd be suspicious if it weren't like that. Regarding the forests near South Baim, right? If you manage them properly, I'll cede them. Just don't be too reclusive."
Eva shrugged, then looked at me with a half-lidded gaze.
"Staying cooped up all the time is no way to live these days. South Baim is close too, and exchange is necessary. But, are you sure? Considering South Baim, Adele said that it might be better to clear and develop that area around the water sources, didn't she?"
According to Adele, if giving land to the Elves, there were other forests that would have been better. The reason she gave was that this one could potentially hinder South Baim's development.
From my perspective, South Baim needed a check too.
"It's fine. If you only look at Baim, it's a problem, but if you look at the continent as a whole, it's necessary. Besides, I'm a man who keeps his promises."
Eva listened to my words.
"You only make promises you can keep, right? Well, if that's the case, it's fine. The village chief seemed concerned about it, so I wanted to confirm."
Everyone acts in pursuit of their own interests. I won't say that's a bad thing. But when you're using people, you need to know what they're after.
If I wasn't aiming to become Emperor, I probably wouldn't have needed to rack my brain over such things. But there was no turning back.
"...Eva, got a minute?"
"What is it? We're on break, so sure."
I turned back to Eva and spoke.
"I'd like to talk a bit about the Seventh Generation — Broa Walt. You know, for the song. Consider it my contribution of information."
When I said that with a smile, Eva gave a small laugh. Rather than looking displeased, she seemed amused. At first I think she'd assumed I was just bragging about my ancestors, but learning she could hear both the good and bad about each of the Successive Heads had her looking quite pleased.
"That sounds nice. I'll finish it for you someday. But if that's the case, the remaining ones are... Lyle's father who's currently fighting, and the third one, right?"
I nodded.
"Yeah, that's right. I'll tell you about the Third Generation some other time."
——It was the day Lyle set off for the battlefield.
The scene playing in the Seventh Generation's memory room showed Maisel and Claire holding a baby. Claire looked exhausted but happy, and Maisel had dark circles under his eyes.
"Great job, Claire! And it's a boy!"
Maisel was overjoyed. And Claire felt the same. Having given birth to a boy carried that much significance.
"Yes! But right now, as long as this child grows up safely, that's all that matters... Ah, thank you so much for being born, Lyle."
Lyle — that was the scene of the day Lyle was born. An aged Broa and Xenoa were both there as well, deeply moved.
"M-M-My grandchild! So adorable... B-But this grandchild is also a Walt! I have to raise them strictly!"
"...You say that, but you've already bought all sorts of things for your grandchild, so it's not very convincing. What's this? You even bought toys and clothes for up to three years old. You should discuss these things with family first."
"Xenoa, don't get so angry. Look, I just happened to see them being sold when I went to Central, so..."
"...The merchants heard a grandchild was born and made sure things would catch your eye! You were completely fooled."
While Broa and Xenoa were talking, Maisel, who probably hadn't slept a wink since the birth, collapsed on the spot. The maids and Broa who were in the room were thrown into a panic.
"Maisel! Pull yourself together!"
As Broa shook her by the shoulders, Xenoa smacked the back of his head.
"You're the one who needs to calm down! How could you say such a thing to my Maisel... We'll move her to her room right away."
Claire was also flustered while holding the baby, but the baby in her arms was just calmly yawning.
Lyle watched the scene with a slightly sad smile.
"Now that I think about it, it's a little surprising, isn't it? That moments like this happened too."
Then, Broa snapped his fingers. Immediately, the surrounding scenery turned gray and displayed a different scene.
It was the Walt estate, and a small Lyle was running around. Around such Lyle were rough-looking knights—
"Young master, please wait!"
The maids and knights were chasing after the laughing, running Lyle. Then, a younger-looking Bell caught Lyle and lifted him up.
"Lyle-sama, you mustn't cause trouble for everyone."
"Beyuu!"
"Ahaha, it's Bell, Lyle-sama."
Lisping. However, for a child not even two years old, running around like that was probably impressive. The Seventh Generation spoke to Lyle with a smile.
"You were growing fast back then. Full of energy, running around, and with such curiosity, you were always dashing about the estate."
When Lyle looked around bashfully, the sight around him made him feel a little sad. The people in the estate were all smiling at him.
"……While I was still alive, you were indeed the heir. And everyone had expectations of you. You had the qualities to match them."
The Seventh Generation turned toward Lyle.
"Now then, Lyle…… shall we get to the heart of the matter?"
As Lyle and the Seventh Generation faced each other, the scenery around them froze in time, turned gray, and crumbled away ——.
—— The next day.
"The enemy force has abandoned their main camp and begun retreating!"
Upon hearing the messenger's words, Maisel sprang up, donning his armor even as he issued orders.
"Prepare for pursuit! We let our guard down. To think they'd flee in the night…… But if we press on toward Lufens from here, it shouldn't be a major problem…… No!"
As his subordinates hurriedly fitted Maisel with his armor and preparations were complete, Maisel strode out of the tent.
The subordinates had quickly gathered under Maisel.
"My Lord Maisel, it appears the enemy hasn't fully escaped yet."
When Bael approached and delivered his report, Maisel shouted.
"Prepare my horse as well. We're pursuing with the entire army."
"Bu-But, my Lord Maisel! You don't need to personally join the pursuit!"
At Bael's words, Maisel shot back.
"This is an enemy that planned everything meticulously. Once they return to their territory, they may have fortified their defenses. We can't afford to let them gain too much ground. I don't think we'll lose, but our casualties will grow significantly if we let them dig in. We pursue, and then we withdraw."
Maisel judged it too dangerous to press further. He had always thought Lyle favored defensive formations. In truth, even after fighting him, there was little sign of an aggressive posture. That meant they could very well be heavily prepared on their own territory.
"If you stray too far and my Skills can't reach, we'll be the ones in danger. Don't forget that the enemy specializes in Skills. It'll be light contact at most. I'm leaving the guard detail to you."
"Yes, sir!"
Under Maisel's command, the army set out in pursuit. Horses were prepared, and once Maisel mounted, the vanguard charged into the enemy lines, smashing through barricades and other obstacles. The defensive fences and boards, left without resistance, were torn apart and set ablaze.
And so, House Walt's army began its pursuit. The units that had broken through the fortress and given chase found the enemy forces fleeing.
The army, having spotted the enemy retreating toward a single point from a distance, began moving toward it. Fortunately, there were no escape routes, so the commander judged there was no chance of the enemy being bait, and the army commenced its advance.
Maisel, protected by his guards, was also pressing forward.
However.
"Something's wrong."
Maisel murmured those words upon surveying the surrounding landscape. The gradually narrowing road had been deliberately prepared. Moreover, the fleeing enemy showed not the slightest hint of desperation. And there were too few of them.
Turning to Beil, who was nearby, Maisel spoke.
"Pull back. Any further is too dangerous. And deploy the Magic Shield."
The very instant Beil was about to issue the order, the familiar sound of gunpowder explosions rang out. The sound that shook the air reminded him of his father, Brode. Then, explosions erupted behind Maisel and his forces.
"What's going on?!"
When Maisel turned around, his allies seemed unable to control their horses and showed no sign of stopping. If they halted and tried to change direction now, they would be thrown. He glanced back only briefly, and what he saw were two units positioned on elevated ground, firing guns toward the rear of Maisel's forces.
"Guns?!"
Maisel shouted, and Beil shouted along with him.
"Lord Maisel, please be careful — they've brought out cannons as well!"
"Cannons? How could something like that get through?!"
No one could answer Maisel's question —.
— The units lying in wait.
Those two units had been positioned on either side of the road the enemy would pass through. And they were firing their guns so that their lines of fire crossed.
To avoid hitting their own forces, and because the enemy was caught on the intersecting lines of fire, unable to move. The Magic Shield was deployed, but the cannons brought from Baim and the improved guns kept pounding them with attacks. And it was a rain of sheer volume.
They were gradually becoming unable to hold the line, and the damage was mounting.
Commanding one of those units was Alette, who had happily found herself getting married.
She had borrowed a unit from Laiel and, under the guidance of her soon-to-be husband Baldoa, was leading the gun-bearing troops.
"Did you see that, soldiers of Banseim! This is the result of my and... my husband's collaboration!"
At that, the unit's adjutant let out a sigh beside Alette. He was a retainer of the Landberg household whom Baldoa had brought along, and who had recently been promoted to knight. The reason such a man was standing by Alette's side was that Alette was becoming his master's wife.
"My lady, many of the soldiers under your command right now are from Banseim, so please be careful with what you say."
"S-sorry! N-no, that's not what I meant!"
The adjutant shook his head and turned his gaze forward once more.
"The division went well. The cavalry's horses seem to have been startled by the noise and aren't listening to their riders. They couldn't stop suddenly and ended up pushing further ahead."
Alette cleared her throat with an exaggerated cough and straightened her posture.
"Right. Everything's going according to plan. The enemy has been underestimating our guns and cannons. We'll use that to spring an ambush from both sides—"
"That's not it. They won't be effective unless we use them properly. We haven't taken down as many enemies as you'd think right now."
The enemy had deployed Magic Shields and weren't taking as much damage as expected. Still, as a surprise attack, it was a resounding success. The forces of House Walt, thrown into confusion, were gradually recovering and beginning to send troops toward Alette and Baldoa's units.
"They're coming!"
As Alette moved to draw her sword, Eliza — mounted on horseback — rested her staff on her shoulder and spoke.
"You lot, keep firing. We won't let the enemy get close to you."
On the other side, Gracia was shielding Baldoa. And that suited Laiel's forces just fine.
Laiel's main force was about to charge into the isolated, exposed enemy unit.
Eliza spoke.
"We'll keep the enemy divided like this. If we take the enemy commander's head, this battle is ours. Besides... I won't let anyone interfere with Laiel. Now then, shall we begin?"
When Eliza aimed her staff at the approaching enemies, ice arrows materialized around her. There were several hundred of them. When loosed in a single volley, they pierced straight through the approaching enemies' Magic Shield, one after another driving deep into their ranks.
Laiel's counterattack had begun.