We made the breakthrough.

“Unfurl the spare sails! We head north.”

“Gather the wounded and ferry them to that ship.”

“Forget pursuit. They still outnumber us. Thanks to Sir Kyrie’s exertions we forced a centerline breakthrough, but if we fight twice—thrice—we can’t know how it ends.”

The ships the Three had mustered scattered in all directions and fled, while we kept tight in one mass and drove straight north.

On the flagship’s deck, I let the attendants help me and slowly shed my armor.

Iron dust and shards had stuck and matted all over the inside; my whole body prickled.

“To be honest, when more than twice our number showed up, I thought we were done for. At sea, unlike on land, you can’t show your personal prowess in full.”

“But Sir Kyrie didn’t shrink an inch. Didn’t we all see him leap to the masthead and fight the Three?”

“Magnetism-crafters are as strong as they say. When they shove your weapons aside with magnetism, what are you supposed to do? And Sir Kyrie felled two of those bastards.”

“We might have been pinned for days in the harbor. A centerline breakthrough… truly a decision worthy of a son of Astreos.”

Blue Knights, Knights, and officers around me talked loudly enough for me to hear.

“Ha-ha, thank you.”

Thinking it through rationally, there had to be a reason they were making my face this hot.

Maybe they’d meant to betray me if the tide turned—then got embarrassed when I won too cleanly.

If not, I couldn’t explain this much fuss.

To smash through more than twice your number, of course you have to shock them; to shock them, the unit’s strongest Blue Knight has to ram in the van.

I had no choice. That didn’t make it heroic.

“This may sting a little.”

“Fine.”

A monk attached to the army stripped me completely—quilted coat, gauntlet, greaves, shirt, boots.

Wearing only a loose pair of shorts, I stood and looked out over the canal at midday.

Using a magnet and forceps, the monk plucked out the iron splinters lodged in my skin, one by one.

My muscles had already swelled; the shards were caught, and each one hauled free brought the pain of live flesh being sliced.

Every time I winced, women Knights on nearby ships whistled and waved.

How quaint.

“I’ve no interest in a naked man. Get dressed.”

Nereus came over by skiff.

From who knows where, he tossed a clean set of clothes beside me.

“I’d like to. You alright?”

“Hnh. You think I’m slow like you? I dodged it all.”

“Then let’s say that on your face is sunburn.”

“Is the tone that different?”

“You look like a zebra.”

“…They brought a lot of light-cavalry Blue Knights. It wasn’t easy.”

His face, too, wore the bright, newly regrown look in patches—as if he’d just doused himself in holy water.

You could guess how fierce his fight had been.

I washed the worst of the wounds with holy water and dressed in the clothes Nereus had brought.

Judging by the cuts, even counting the holy water, they were already knitting.

Fast enough to watch with the eye.

Even for Knight-grade recovery, the result was remarkable.

That, too, would be the Celestial Lightning Body at work.

“Go. You’ve a mountain of things to handle.”

Nereus pointed to the skiff he’d come on.

“You?”

“I dumped—no. entrusted—everything to my adjutant.”

“Hey!”

“But our fair and merciful Sir Kyrie won’t work a poor adjutant to the bone when she was electrocuted and nearly drowned only hours ago.”

“O Dreaming Thunder Star.”

I let out a deep sigh and stepped down into the skiff.

Fine. This, too, was a victor’s leisure.

Thankfully, captains and Blue Knights from each ship were present—so no one had to panic at facing Kyrie alone, wandering up without an adjutant.

“Sir!”

Joi dusted herself off and joined me.

“You sure you don’t need more rest?”

“Yes, sir. I even snatched a nap, sir.”

The two of us moved from ship to ship through the fleet.

We commended merit, tallied casualties, and processed prisoners.

“Eleven lost out of a bit over forty sailing ships. That bites more than I’d like.”

“But we captured three, so you can count it as a net loss of eight, sir. Against more than twice our number, taking only that much—this is a great victory, sir.”

On the field, Kyrie was the Lightning Blade; to the prisoners, he was the Scalesword.

“Release the common soldiers at the next city we make. For Retainers, Navigators, and Knights, release them for ransom. For mercs of Retainer rank or higher, make a conversion offer first.”

It’s civil war anyway. There’s no need for cruelty. And it’s the better way to replenish Blue Knight strength.

The soldiers sang together of Kyrie’s mercy.

“If only all Blue Knight sirs were like Sir Kyrie.”

“We’re all the same merc rabble—when the fighting ends, we go, ‘Whew, lived!’ That man isn’t like that. In his place, he could grind those bastards to paste and still think it too light—look how broad his heart is.”

The armies of the Empire of Stars were peculiar.

Houses with elite superhuman troops did not maintain vast standing armies.

The army under Kyrie and the army under the Three were both mercenary.

So when battle ended, the soldiers extended a tradesman’s understanding to other men in the same line of work.

“Sir Kyrie! On second thought, Lady Andromeda would make a much better ruler than Senior Foster Heir Traysan!”

The Knight-captains of mercenary bands under the Three showed the same flexible “employment activation” that Shen—the former merc-captain under Erica—had.

“Kyrie, Kyrie! Remember me?”

This called forth exactly the effect Kyrie had guided toward.

“Hari?”

“Cut me loose!”

“Are you converting?”

“Convert, my ass—I didn’t even want to come! I thought riding the Three’s coattails would be easy money—and then suddenly it’s, ‘We’re sailing south to fight.’”

Conversions among the light-cavalry Blue Knights.

“Thanks! You’re the only proper classmate I’ve got.”

“Didn’t you call me a bug-eyed freak who does nothing fun and only swings a sword all day?”

“W-when did I ever!”

Given that Blue Knights fighting by Thunder-Step leaping from ship to ship had crossed during the breakthrough, quite a few Blue Knights of the Three had ended up left aboard Kyrie’s ships.

They chose a seat beside Kyrie over some stinking bilge.

It strengthens us right now, and the number of conversions itself is proof our line is right.

Kyrie welcomed them gladly.

Like lightning in battle; like cloud once battle ends. Live like that, and you win the Dreaming Thunder Star’s favor.

If I follow him, my name will go down in history.

So now there are more like me? Good. I can watch my step a little less.

Calling it a rootless mongrel army, nothing but absorption upon absorption—that was closer to a smear from Traysan’s faction.

From the viewpoint of Kyrie—who must one day be emperor—you should say that, regardless of their original affiliations, the number of those who followed Kyrie alone had grown.

“I’m back.”

“Welcome.”

“Fetch Epicus.”

“Yes!”

Kyrie returned from his tour of the fleet with Joi.

They had started at midday—but by the time they finished, night had long since fallen.

Did he notice it all?

Epicus came forward to Kyrie with death in mind.

“You—no. You sent for me, sir?”

He had once met Kyrie as a lofty superior; now Epicus was merely a superhuman serving in plain white, and Kyrie was master of this army.

Acting baron of Helix Barony and temporary Governor of Spiramentaon—calling him a lord would not be strange.

“Our first meeting wasn’t very good.”

“Yes.”

Epicus braced for execution as a traitor.

“But a bad first meeting doesn’t mean it has to stay bad.”

“Sir?”

“Thanks to you we felled Trinios, and my adjutant lives. Keep doing exactly this.”

But Kyrie spoke words of commendation.

And with them, a fine magi-device spear among the captured arms.

“Thank you.”

For Kyrie, it was pure sincerity.

He’s the enemy of a countless many, but for saving Joi I’m only grateful.

Epicus read it a little differently.

He told me to keep doing this. So he knew everything I was thinking. He’s telling me to leave betrayal as a thought forever. And still he won’t kill me.

He looked at Kyrie.

At the Blue Knight who twice opened the way in the van, charging toward more than twice their number.

At the youngest brother who faced the Three head-on—those elder brothers so lofty that even Epicus couldn’t lift his head—and beat two.

Is that a hero?

Epicus felt the nerves tied to his magi-device arm and leg heat, burning.

Brother.

That day, he missed his brother terribly.

He even gave me a new spear. If he has a conscience, he’ll move himself from under Nereus to under me—no. Wait. Can you expect that bastard to have a conscience?

Puzzled, Kyrie stepped into his cabin.

He raised his mana to practice Area Imbuement.

Kzzzt!

His overheated nerves flared fast, but Area Imbuement primed itself as naturally as if it were an Authority he’d used for years.

Much easier than Heavenstrike. I can make it mine much faster. This time too, like with Heavenstrike, I should be able to absorb about 200%–300%.

Crackle, kzzzt!

Kyrie felt the pressure of a globe of lightning pulsing in his grip, seeking to shoot in all directions.

Even for Traysan, mustering an army in the capital won’t be easy. Not long now. A little more and I can bring Erica before Andromeda.

A smile came unbidden.

How long has it been since a future this hopeful took shape?

Andromeda stepped into the House apothecary.

“Welcome.”

Officially the apothecary was neutral; internally it was split between the Andromeda faction and the Traysan faction.

Since Andromeda had begun making the Elixir of Sacred Light from fluids drawn from Mutated Beasts, the Andromeda faction had slowly taken the upper hand.

Proof: countless apothecary masters bowed their heads to her now.

“The finished stock?”

“This way.”

Following one of the masters, Andromeda went deeper in.

Rows of vials of the Elixir of Sacred Light.

“This is all?”

“Yes. We turned all the Mutated Beast extracts you sent into Elixir of Sacred Light.”

“And this is the high-concentration line?”

“It is. The stuff that concentrates ten vials of standard Elixir into one. We’ve been calling it, for now, the Elixir of the Nebula.”

“Trials?”

“Sir Eugene, whom Your Excellency sent, has taken charge.”

As the master said it, the Knight called Eugene appeared.

“Oh.”

Andromeda admired the plainly changed aura.

“You feel different. Not just a Knight—you feel like a cathedral knight or a royal Vow-taker.”

“Indeed, even the sword seems to take on some alien force. I still need a bit more practice; I’ll report as results come.”

Eugene bowed, punctilious.

“Good. Move all finished stock out.”

“Yes.”

Just then, a maid came running in from outside.

“Traysan has proposed that you jointly observe the Beast-Purification Altar’s purge. Shall I refuse?”

With her expression, the maid was shouting: refuse.

“No.”

After a moment’s thought, Andromeda shook her head.

“Your Excellency!”

“My brother is beating the Three and coming up. If we endure a little longer, we win.”

“As you say, you must endure.”

“Who would accept a victory that was only endured for?”

“Traysan is the senior foster heir. It won’t be easy.”

“I’m the sub-patriarch. Do you understand?”

It was obvious Traysan was preparing some kind of thrash.

Doesn’t matter.

Andromeda meant it.

Within Astreos, I have the influence mapped. Only those who’d follow him even to the point of pointing a blade directly at me—that many won’t be able to take me. And if he borrows outside forces, Father His Highness will step in.

She was a Blue Knight as well.

If Father His Highness does not step in, then I lost from the start. There’s no helping that.

No bolt of lightning fears a fall.

Chapter 107

Comments