[Rear Gate, Antigua Castle]
A soldier scouted the vicinity, then beckoned for his comrades to come out of hiding.
The gatekeeper, while staying vigilant of his surroundings, took out a key.
It was not for the firmly shut castle gate, but the small iron door built to its side. Unless it concerned urgent businesses, the unlocking of the side door was forbidden.
The very person who carried the heavy responsibility of defending the gates was now opening the door for the deserters.
In collusion with the Liberation Force, the gatekeeper had been appointed with the duty of assisting deserters as a covert operative.
Such a desertion drama had repeated itself time and time again. Security in the castle had always been relatively loose. And tonight, as per the usual, deserters were supposed to be sent on their way without incident.
"...Move while crouching down, so that you won't be seen by the other guards. The contact is standing by in the woodland to the north, at a dilapidated house. Here's a map. Make sure to get rid of it when it's no longer needed."
The gatekeeper handed the deserters a map, then reminded them to be careful.
"The Royal Army's surveillance may be lenient, but stay cautious--" he was about to continue, when...
"Hey, what're you folks doing over there?"
The voice of a girl called them from nearby.
"--! W-who are you!?"
While thinking how their hearts must have skipped a beat, the gatekeeper and deserting soldiers turned to that direction.
"You folks are from the Seventh Infantry Platoon, if I'm remembering right. Where are you going off to, carrying all the luggage? Taking a stroll? Stargazing or something?"
Shera spoke to them with a friendly smile. Her eyes were not showing signs of amusement, however.
"You're from the... miscellany force, was it?"
"--Hey, wait. She's fine."
The robust man, previously poised to attack with his sword, sighed upon seeing that it was Shera, thinking that she would surely let them pass.
The gatekeeper, on the other hand, kept a vigilant watch. If she were to make a fuss, everything would be over. For him, and all the deserters, too.
"Good evening. I'm Temporary Second Lieutenant Shera."
"Aha, the kid who got the hard work pushed on her. Isn't the temporary in your title so tear-jerking? Not like your pay got much better, too..."
"The other platoons are talkin' all about you, y'know. How long will you stay alive, and stuff. They've been placing bets on it."
"--Now, that's not important. What're you folks doing?"
She asked, with a smile on her face. Her trusty scythe hung on her back.
Each time Shera moved, the blade would also sway around, giving off an ominous air.
"We're ditchin' this piece'a shite army, obviously. Gotta be on the winnin' horse, y'know? There's been talk that the Empire is gonna be in this war as well. Stay here, and we're gonna die a dog's death."
"We'll be joining up with the Royal Capital Liberation Force. Lots of gold to be made there, I heard. Besides, the Princess is supposedly a splendid leader. There's no way in hell I'm dying for the Kingdom."
The soldiers let their criticisms run wild. They were at their limits of patience.
"Everyone here has agreed to this. We're bringing some good equipment and food as gifts, too. They probably won't treat us that badly."
The man, seemingly a Platoon Leader, patted the bag on his shoulder. Having heard his answer, Shera nodded several times in acknowledgement.
Not in sympathy for the deserters' circumstances, but in acknowledgement of the food that had been jam-packed into their bags.
Handing food over to the Rebel Force -- She was not about to let it happen.
"I see. This is where we part ways, then."
When Shera intended to reach for the scythe on her back, the Platoon Leader extended her an invitation.
"...Say, do you want to come with us? If you stay here, you'll end up dead one way or another."
"H-hey, you serious?"
One among the deserters immediately asked for confirmation, since that would mean an unnecessary increase of their burdens.
"As if we can leave her behind like this. She's an eyewitness to our crime. Hey, you won't mind if we bring one more, right?"
The gatekeeper pulled a frown out of bafflement to the Platoon Leader's question, but since there was no other option, he nodded.
"This wasn't in the plan but... well, no way around it. I'm way above killing women and children. But only you. We're not letting you call your platoon along."
"--So he says. You're coming, right? There's no reward in risking our lives for this nation."
"...That's true. Alright, I'll be going, too. Let's get along, however short-lived it may be."
Smiling pleasantly, Shera stated her assent. 'Very good, then,' the man nodded, and together, they silently snuck out through the door.
--Desertion was a serious crime. As per military regulations, being caught meant the death penalty, no appeals accepted.
The deserters, muffling their breaths and hiding in tall grass, made haste to the woodland. There was no difficulty in it other than the unwieldy luggage hindering their movement, but they could not afford to go empty-handed.
Shera, what with her carrying a scythe on her back, looked no different from a showoff. Its long handle would often hit the ground as she moved along.
"Hey, Miss Temporary Second Lieutenant Shera -- gods, that's a mouthful. How about getting rid of that ridiculous showoff scythe, eh? Isn't a pain in the arse to carry?"
"Without it, I won't be able to fight, so no."
Shera gently patted the handle of her scythe. The man, mildly irritated, lowered his voice and grumbled.
"Good gods, you just had to keep it, eh. What good will it do, wielded by a kid like you? Just go home to the sticks. I won't talk bad about it, really."
The man spoke as if he was a father. Perhaps he had seen a shadow of his daughter in Shera.
"Sure, I'll consider it."
Not at all registering the man's words, Shera picked up a fruit from the ground and took a bite. The fruit was starchy, causing her to feel thirsty.
"Platoon Leader, isn't that what we're looking for?"
One among the group reported while spreading the map to confirm their current location. The location of a large tree had been marked with an ×, indicating it as a landmark. In the distance of roughly thirty paces ahead, there was indeed a large tree, standing conspicuously.
The deserters started toward the marked tree, taking care not to be loud with their footsteps. It was about time they were out of the Royal Army's surveillance area. Still, they could not afford to be careless until the very end. After all, they had already seen countless comrades die the very moment they let their guard down. It was the only thing they had gained from their military life -- the secret trick to survival.
"--The gash here looks unnatural, so this must be it. So we face this way and go left from here, was it?"
"It probably is, yes. There's something like an animal trail leading down this way."
"There are some random footprints left around, too. Looks like we'll get there if we follow them."
"Good gods, not noticing enemy activity when they're this close... And here I thought things were going too smoothly. Do our higher-ups have hollow heads or what?"
The Platoon Leader grumbled while patting the tree, and everyone present spoke up in his agreement.
"No wonder our surprise attack was leaked. No way we could've won."
"Real good thing we ran away. We're the lucky fellows who chose the right choice at the last minute. If I make it back home, I'll pray to the stars. Us devouts are blessed with rewards from God."
"A toast to our Lord, the Star God, eh?"
"Hear, hear. Better not skip our prayers when we're home!"
These men had left their families behind. They simply wanted to not die in vain -- to not die a dog's death. Traitors they may be called, but survival was everything. Such earnest thoughts had compelled them to escape.
Shera was observing them from a slight distance, and seemed to find amusement in the scene. All the while, her palm was fiddling with the blade of her trusty scythe, which she had taken off her back. Since she was feeling hungry, she also took the opportunity to eat the meat bun that she had been carrying around.
It was far from what one would call a cooked meal, simply being minced meat wrapped in a fist-sized ball of baked wheat. Its fragrance did satisfy Shera's appetite, however, if only so slightly. After she was done eating, Shera sadly looked at her now-empty pouch.
"...I could go for three more of that."
After uttering a few words to herself, Shera put her scythe back on her back. At the same time, the other soldiers also started to move out.
"Alright, about time we rested enough. We gotta keep our promise, so tear the map and bury it away. Don't leave any traces behind. "
"Aye, sir."
"Hey, Shera. Stop eating the soybeans and give us a hand here. Even a kid like you can dig holes, I'm sure."
One among the group directed his complaint at Shera, who was now lazing around chewing soybeans. After her meat bun was gone, she had brought out the roasted soybeans as a follow-up.
Instead of answering, Shera struck the ground with her scythe's pointed end, creating a small hole.
"Ooh, so the scythe doubles as a hoe? Handy stuff."
The man tore the map apart, put the shreds in the hole, and threw soil over it. He then proceeded to trample the spot with his combat boots to smooth away traces of digging, and when he was done, signalled the others.
"...That ought to do. If you make it home, give up that scythe and help your parents with work, yeah? Women and children aren't supposed to be the ones wielding weapons."
The kindly man turned to Shera and spoke to her in a preachy tone.
Not caring for it either way, Shera gave him an answer.
"If I feel like it, sure."
"Well, try to feel like it. Kids should listen to their elders, you know."
"Got it. Say... are you my father, by any chance?"
"Haha, I've got my beloved son waiting for me at home, you know. Sorry, but I can't be your old man."
"Well, that's a real shame," Shera went with the flow.
"You better treat your parents with respect, yeah?"
"......"
Shera tried to visualize the faces of her late parents.
--But she could not recall anything. She did not find it regrettable at all, however. Her hatred for the Rebel Force was sincere, and her memories of the destroyed village were real. But she could not recall the faces of the people who were there.
Shera did not feel sadness in the fact. That was because all she could recall was herself, dying of hunger. Just by recalling it, she would feel like going mad from the starvation. She did not hold strong sentiments for her forgotten family. All she had was the feeling of emptiness in her stomach.
Shera picked up a fruit from the ground and silently threw it into her mouth. Having savagely crushed it between her teeth, she did not taste it enough to give it a clear evaluation.
This location usually was used only by scouts, but a Liberation Force officer, Colonel Voleur, had come to visit for the day to observe enemy movement.
He was one among the Imperial Army reinforcements. A brawny man of tall stature with military genius to boot, his potential had been realized further polished through habitual training.
Among the Imperial Army, he had been deemed a prominent figure in spearmanship. As a Spear Instructor, he had also served as the instructor of Julius, the Liberation Force second-in-command and second Prince in the Imperial line.
On top of his gifted abilities as a commanding officer, his resolute and sincere character was idolised by the soldiers. The others recognized him as one who will sooner or later become General, and the man himself had been diligent in his endeavour.
"You have done well to carry out your task late into the night. I have come for a firsthand investigation of Antigua Castle's state of affairs."
"Your efforts are much appreciated, Colonel Voleur. One such as yourself need not come in person, however. The situation is the same as usual... Please, use this."
One among the scouts presented an Enchanted Telescope to Voleur.
A valuable artefact excavated from Labyrinth City Arto, this specially enchanted magic tool could project the scenery beyond its lens as if it was daytime. It was an article permitted to be held only by officers of the Empire’s Intelligence Unit.
"They were being so slack that I sometimes think it might be a trap..."
An Intelligence Unit member pointed in a direction, and Voleur turned the Telescope there -- To a tower that had been built inside the rampart. It was undoubtedly a watchtower for enemy detection, but the lookout was leaning against the wall without making even the slightest movement.
"...Good gods, the lookout is nodding off. Has their discipline become so disordered?"
While investigating Antigua Castle through the Telescope, Voleur grumbled out of exasperation.
"To be frank, sir, it is rare for lookouts to take their post seriously. We are having a hard time with ours as well, what with all the tension going on."
The trooper pulled a wry smile, and Voleur mildly reprimanded him.
"Still, one should never be negligent. The enemy is sure to have someone sharp and able among their ranks. Otherwise, the Kingdom could not have lasted up to now."
"I understand, Colonel... Hmm? Something just tripped a Surveillance Cordon. Go confirm it, now."
The specialized cordons had been developed with imperial magic crafting methods. They had been installed uniformly around the perimeter of the dilapidated house.
One of the unit subordinates used the Telescope to confirm what that something was.
"...They appear to be the deserters our contact had informed us of. Nine -- no, ten of them. One more than we had been informed."
"Someone who made the decision at the last minute, I bet. After the interrogation, lead them to the nearby fort. And don't forget to take the secret message from them."
"Got it."
"...The Intelligence Unit has been guiding the deserters as well?"
Voleur inquired while rubbing his angular jaw.
"Yes, Sir. It was an order from the Tactician, so as to hasten their internal collapse. The number of deserters has already crossed five-hundred. The betrayers who had contacted us were diverse, some being from the bottom and others possessing superior ranks. We had been able to intercept the recent surprise attack thanks to classified information from such betrayers as well."
There were many who felt displeased with the Kingdom. It had been a simple task to take advantage of them. Those who had come of their own accord were not at all few in number.
"...I see. So the Kingdom has started to rot on the inside..."
"Yes, it is as you say, sir."
The giant tree, however splendid its outward appearance may be, had already been rotten to its core. Even left alone, it was only a matter of time until it pitifully withered and fell.
However, the task of quickening the clock had been assigned to the Intelligence Unit. They would spare no mercy in ensuring a thorough decomposition.
"I would like to ask the deserters about the internal affairs."
"I don't quite agree that you should, sir. They have yet to swear their loyalty to the Liberation Force. As of now, they simply escaped because they were dissatisfied. There is always the factor of uncertainty."
The trooper advised against it, but Voleur shook his head, saying there was no need for worry.
"I, too, am a man vigilant of foul play. I will ask the deserters about their situation. And I will listen to them with these ears of mine."
"...Affirmative, sir. Provided that we accompany you, of course. The responsibility would be ours to take if anything were to happen to you, Colonel."
The trooper cracked a grin, and Voleur responded with a sarcastic smile.
"Good gods, having responsible subordinates can be so troublesome."
"Having a responsible superior can be so troublesome, too, sir. In various ways, even, I dare say..."
They exited the house, and the troopers on standby followed them on their way.
Voleur had subconsciously readied his favourite pike; this was perhaps an omen of some sort.
"I am Colonel Voleur, affiliated with the Royal Capital Liberation Force and the Imperial Volunteer Battalion. Are you the ones who have come from Antigua Castle?"
"Y-yes, we are. We have escaped from the castle to join the Liberation Force and Princess Altura's cause. From here on out, we shall put our lives on the line and fight for the Royal Capital Liberation Force!"
The Platoon Leader shamelessly released his pack of lies.
Voleur knew, but solemnly nodded nonetheless. It was natural for common soldiers such as them to have no interest in their Kingdom's internal conflicts. In their eyes, gold, food, and life took priority. Voleur understood them well enough, and did not take such conduct as an offence.
"...Very good. We offer a heartfelt welcome to your arrival, comrades of shared ambitions. From here on out, we hope for you to demonstrate your strength under the Liberation Force's banner."
"Yes, sir!"
The Platoon Leader saluted, and the rest of the group followed suit.
Voleur took a good look at their faces, one by one. However, his line of sight stopped at the small-statured female soldier with a peculiar weapon.
"--You there, lass. What is so funny? Would you mind telling me?"
"...Huhu--"
"I am asking you -- You have been smiling since a while ago. Why is that?"
"--Haha... Ahahah-! What is so funny, you asked? Everything, my man, everything! It's all so amusing! It's unbearable!"
"What?"
"I mean, he just said 'to join the Liberation Force' with a straight face! That's coming from someone who ran away because he didn't want to die!"
Unable to hold back, Shera burst into laughter while holding her stomach. The scythe on her back swayed about together with her.
The Intelligence Unit troopers on standby knit their brows and reached for the swords on their waists. They intended to immediately dispose of her if she were to show any further disrespect. They could not afford to stay silent.
"H-hey, you're being impolite, Shera! Stop laughing already!"
The Platoon Leader reached out his hand to restrain Shera, and she promptly swiped him off.
"Oh, no you don't. Could you please keep your hands off me, loser who wags his tail for the Rebel Force? You're no longer an ally of mine, after all."
"H-hey, Shera! Y-you still sane there!?"
"Of course I'm sane. Shouldn't that obvious?"
"You -- Have you not come to join the Liberation Force?"
Voleur interrupted them and asked his question. Since Shera was emanating an air of fierce murderous intent, this would be his last question to her. He tightened his grip on his pike.
"Of course not. Shouldn't that be obvious? I'm here to hunt the sneaky dogs. They've been an eyesore. Besides, if I get a big one, I'll rack up achievements faster. And if I achieve more, I'll get to eat more delicious stuff. It just keeps on giving!"
Shera took her scythe off her back, swung it once as a taunt, and rested it on her right shoulder.
"Damn you, Shera! I mean -- She meant no offence, sir. Please pardon her. Sh-she has a few screws loose in her head, is all..."
The Platoon Leader tried to cover for her, but she roughly shoved him aside, saying he was a nuisance.
"Could you please not treat me like an idiot? It hurts my feelings, you know... Having a loser make excuses for me and all. I feel offended."
Having seen enough, Voleur narrowed his eyes and finalised his decision.
"So that is your answer... Your disposition has been nurtured by a neglected army lifestyle, it seems. Alas, you are young and easily corrupted. Now, I shall give you peace."
"Please stay your hands, Colonel. We shall deal with her ourselves!"
"There is no need for worry. 'Tis but an act of pity. It pains me greatly to raise my hands against a lass of such tender age, but it is too late for her remedy. Her constitution is that of a rabid dog. I can no longer bring myself to look at her."
Voleur stopped the Intelligence Unit with a one-hand signal, then, with relaxed motions, took a stance with his pike. He aimed its pointed tip at Shera's vital spots.
Shera would be killed. She would be no match for a man his size, not to mention a Liberation Force Colonel. The deserters would not be able to do anything, either. They would not let themselves die from getting involved. All they would be able to do was gulp down their spit as they witness Shera's final moments.
That should be the case, but their concerns were brushed aside as Shera gleefully took a step forward -- As if she was starting to dance.
"Huhu... For my delicious food..."
She brandished her scythe with great vigour, crooking her lips as she pointed it at her adversary.
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