"Tch... That's it. Time to get out of here."
The battle had been decided.
Most of the rebel army had fled in defeat, while those who remained either surrendered or fought to the death.
Seeing that defeat was a foregone conclusion, one man slipped away from the battlefield in a hurry.
The man was bearded and wore cheap leather armor. With his rough features, he looked more like a bandit than a soldier.
However... only a very select few knew that this man was actually a soldier in command from the Gaiselle Empire, an allied nation of the Kingdom of Aiwood.
This loyal "dog" had disguised himself as a mercenary to infiltrate the Kingdom of Aiwood and had been fighting as a member of the rebel army.
There were other soldiers who had drifted in from the Gaiselle Empire as well... but they were all freelance mercenaries, hired purely for money.
He was the only one who had received direct orders from the empire's illustrious authorities.
(They told me to drain as much of the kingdom's fighting strength as possible, but... this is beyond saving at this point.)
The truth was, the outcome had been decided from the very first blow.
A mysterious attack launched from the royal army had incapacitated a tenth of the rebel soldiers in one stroke.
Witnessing the overwhelming magical assault head-on, half of the remaining soldiers had lost the will to fight and either surrendered or fled.
The man had intended to hold out as long as he could out of loyalty to the empire, hoping to at least take down one enemy general... but unfortunately, he had never encountered a single officer of any renown.
Having killed only a handful of foot soldiers, he was now about to flee.
(It seems that idiot prince Rodele showed some backbone in the end, but... looks like he got taken out anyway. Serves him right.)
The man scoffed through his nose.
As both a puppet and a soldier, he had accomplished nothing before falling.
He would either be buried in the darkness of history or executed as a traitor... either way, the word "fool" was surely meant for a man like that.
(……Well, at least I managed to get one valuable piece of info out of it.)
The man had been watching Rodele's final battle from a distance.
In other words……he had also laid eyes on the man who defeated Rodele — Rest.
(That man used light magic……it's only a possibility, but he might be the same one who landed that first blow. The royal army soldiers were calling him 'Viscount Clover' or something like that……I absolutely have to bring this intel back.)
Light magic was something very few people could use.
Anyone could illuminate their surroundings with a bit of light, but those who had elevated it into an offensive spell were exceedingly rare.
That was because using fire or lightning offered far better offensive power relative to the mana consumed.
(There is the question of whether he can keep fighting that idiot prince without running out of mana after unleashing a strike of that magnitude……but that kid is certain to become a demon for the Empire. Depending on the situation, I may need to consider assassination as well.)
The man's lord was the leader of a faction within the Empire that could be called the "war hawks."
He intended to not only crush the northern barbarians but eventually conquer and destroy the Kingdom of Aiwood to the west as well.
When it came to fighting the Kingdom of Aiwood, the man judged that Rest would without a doubt be an obstacle.
(Viscount Clover……bringing back intel on that guy alone would be more than enough of a victory. Damn it, I absolutely have to make it back alive to the Empire and……)
"Hyah!"
"Nwoah!?"
The man was thinking over all this as he tried to leave the battlefield — when suddenly, someone launched a flying kick at him.
He dropped flat on instinct, and the attacker sailed over his head……driving their foot into the ground behind him with a burst of impact.
If he hadn't lowered his stance, the kick would have carried enough force to shatter his skull.
"Wh-what the hell!?"
"Oh my, you dodged it."
The one who had launched the surprise attack in a perfectly relaxed tone of voice……a woman wearing light, mobile armor spoke.
The man who had tried to kick the imperial soldier to death was none other than Yuri Cattleya — a young woman who was both the daughter of the knight commander and a friend of Rest.
"You managed to dodge my kick — you're no ordinary fighter! You look like a common mercenary, but I can tell you're a general of some renown!"
Yuri pointed her finger sharply at the man.
"From now on, you're going to be the trophy of my conquest! Surrender yourself and accept your fate quietly!"
"Wh-what...?"
The man's instincts were screaming. He'd run into someone troublesome.
The woman was unarmed, with no weapons on her to speak of — which made her all the more unsettling.
(There's no time, and I can't afford to deal with this head-on...)
"Uh, um... I think there's been a misunderstanding? I'm just a lowly mercenary, ma'am."
The man hunched his shoulders and put on a servile expression, playing at begging for his life.
"My, my wife and kids back home are starving and waiting for me. Please, just let me go..."
"Hm... is that so? You're just a common foot soldier?"
"Y-yes, ma'am. I'm the kind of mercenary who can't even land a steady employer — just one of those guys you find everywhere..."
"Is that so... I'm sorry about that. You're free to go."
"Th-then, if you'll excuse me..."
(...Is this woman an idiot? She's way too easy to fool.)
Everything was going so smoothly it was starting to feel eerie.
Now that he'd been given permission, the man slipped past Yuri and tried to make his escape.
(Whoever she is... someone this gullible is the type to get played by men and end up with nothing but a used body. Shame about the brain, but the face and figure are something else...!?)
The man stole glances at Yuri's body, but then — his gaze caught on the necklace hanging from her neck, and his eyes went wide.
Whether the light armor was simply the wrong size, a necklace spilled out from the far-too-open chest area.
The ornament fastened to a silver chain was the emblem of a certain noble house.
"House Cattleya...!"
The moment he saw it, his body moved before his mind could catch up.
The man drew his sword and moved to slash at Yuri in a surprise attack— "Oh?"
In the next instant, a puzzled voice rang out at the same time his body shifted.
The man's upper half toppled to the ground, sword and all.
But... strangely enough, his own "legs"—which should have been lying on the ground—were standing right in front of him.
"Ah... legs?"
In his fading consciousness, the man murmured.
And then... in the very last instant, he realized. His upper body and lower body had separated at some point, and all that remained standing were the legs from the waist down.
The man, split in two, drew his last breath—without ever having proclaimed himself an officer of the Empire's soldiers.
"Oh my, that startled me. I kicked him away without thinking."
Yuri looked down at the man who was now only an upper half and muttered, looking troubled.
"I've been taking 'swordsmanship' classes at the academy... but after a month of learning the sword, I came to realize something."
"Ghh... haa..."
"Kicking with my legs is stronger than cutting with a sword."
Yuri proudly puffed out her large chest, leaned down to peer at the man's face—and then blinked when she realized, "Oh, he's dead."
"I promised Rest I'd make a name for myself, but... he's practically gotten away by now. By some stroke of luck, is there a general wandering around somewhere nearby?"
Yuri puckered her lips in a troubled expression, then darted across the battlefield with the light, graceful steps of a she-leopard.