The virtue and morality of a commander is to protect as many soldiers as possible, feed them well, and achieve victory. Peon was taught that and tried to do so.

“Bring arrows!”

“Keep shooting without rest!”

“Aaargh! Gilun’s been hit!”

“You bastards, eat this!”

Even in this hell, he thought one must maintain chivalry and morality to remain human.

He tried to act human even while being called a lowborn, filthy mongrel. How could one pretend to be human when they’re not?

“Your Highness, the left side…!”

“There are four experienced commanders there, I’ll trust them.”

Morality was useless to Peon, who pushed the local nobles he had specifically called out into the most dangerous melee. He couldn’t even dream of mercy.

Peon waited for today, the day of battle, and as soon as the place of death unfolded, he pushed those who needed to die into it.

Legally, they had committed ambiguous crimes, and the local nobles had too much influence over witnesses to prove it.

Even if they were reported to the Kline court for insulting the royal family, they would only receive light punishment. That’s how the world worked. If one wanted proper punishment, they had to take matters into their own hands.

Peon forgot nothing.

“Aaargh!”

“Fire flaming arrows! Burn the siege towers!”

No, in fact, he couldn’t forget even if he wanted to. Forgetting was now impossible.

The loud noise flew to his ears, so he knew exactly what was happening where without needing reports. With swift orders, the allied foreign forces who had deliberately brought troops still couldn’t breach Fort Pueten.

They wouldn’t breach Fort Pueten, but they would inflict massive damage before leaving.

It would take days just to collect the bodies at Pueten, and Lycenford would be too grief-stricken to do anything. Even the emperor’s investigators would have to downplay their investigation.

And those who were meant to die would die here. War was, in a way, a very convenient means of disposal.

“Aah! Save me!”

Screams rained down from all directions. But Peon had to survive here. Those who were to die today had committed just enough sins to die today.

He was not one of them. It was not for him to judge his own sins. So he had to survive and return. He had to face the sins he desperately wanted to ignore and, in truth, run away from.

Did Kaella know? If she knew, how much did she remember? If he apologized with all his heart, would she forgive him?

Was it even a forgivable sin?

The defeated of the North faced the fear he had buried while being rained on in a battlefield where fire raged, boiling oil poured, and humans fought most desperately for survival.

I’ve barely reached her, but this time I’ll surely be abandoned.

Just as he had miserably abandoned her before he could even reach her.

“Your Highness!”

Peon paid no mind to the arrows aiming for him or the hooks clawing at the castle walls. Not only his ears but his eyes were open too, so he could simply dodge arrows or deflect them with his sword.

Battle no longer gave him any sense of crisis. Earl Wilberk rushed to him in surprise, but Peon knocked away an arrow with his sword before he could get close. Far away, he saw an enemy commander lowering his bow as if displeased.

Peon feared the tiny wife he had left behind more than the enemies blackening the field before Fort Pueten.

And at the same time, he was disgusted at himself for daring to be afraid. Wasn’t this what he had prepared for since he disregarded, ignored, and silenced her, not even letting her breathe?

He had intended to be eternally cut off from Kaella and receive only contempt.

Because the feelings he unknowingly harbored must not come true.

You must not betray me, Peon.

Because that would be immoral.

Though he had abandoned human decency and even the chivalry he had upheld, the consequences of his actions persistently followed him, finally presenting him with pitch-black emptiness and hell simultaneously.

The cold, wet surface of his armor began to freeze. It was cold. Bitterly cold. But he had to endure all this and return.

In Lycenford was Beatrice, who might do who-knows-what to Kaella. Though he had left Renard with her, he couldn’t feel at ease. Peon smiled bitterly at the thought that he needed to hurry back to protect Kaella.

It was ironic that he was the only one who could protect her, when he was clearly the most harmful poison to Kaella.

*

Lycenford was on the border, so battles were common. But just because they were common didn’t mean people got used to them or that it was okay.

People die. People you lived side by side with die. Survival instinct born of fear moves the living, while the dead cast dark shadows over the lives that remain.

The sound of women weeping for lost husbands and sons could be heard faintly from corners, clinging to everyone’s backs.

Like any Lycenford resident, Kaella carried those cries on her back as she hurriedly loaded barrels of oil onto carts with her dress hem gathered up. Cruel and uncertain days passed for everyone.

“How dreadful.”

It truly was dreadful. Beatrice frowned at her persistent cough and yanked the ugly curtains as if to tear them.

The whining from below was annoying, and the flickering torches lit by the windows at night and constant noise made it impossible to sleep. Plus, her cold symptoms persisted.

Ah, of course Beatrice knew Lycenford was always like this. That’s why she hated this place. She was sick of having to be careful on slippery roads after rain, and she hated the bone-chilling cold.

Cold! It was already feeling warm beyond spring in Kline! Roses and peonies were already peeking out on every street, thick lilacs tempted bees, and the harbor was full of freshly imported tulips.

She had given up all sorts of tea parties, balls, and outdoor plays to be stuck here, and hadn’t accomplished much. She could almost hear the emperor’s words as he dumped her here.

You need to do your job well. Isn’t it basic to fulfill your duties before claiming rights?

Beatrice’s role was not something she could fulfill on her own.

She chewed her lips nervously and carefully locked the door. Though irritatingly, no one was paying attention to her now, she needed to be more careful from now on.

Beatrice couldn’t bring even half her luggage, but she took out the celestial map she had hidden in the luggage that safely arrived. She placed water on the map of all the stars’ positions and drew in darkness.

The only light was a single ember taken from the fireplace. Thin white smoke danced and disappeared into the darkness.

Under darkness and fire, water and smoke, the celestial map Beatrice had drawn herself and marked with small diamonds began to sparkle.

“And blood.”

Human blood can be obtained anywhere. Beatrice didn’t use chicken blood like cheap fortune tellers. She only used blood from breathing humans, higher intelligence beings. Red blood began to seep and spread in the water.

“Lastly…, something stolen.”

Or an object tainted with sin would do. A knife or pin that stabbed someone, a comb or handkerchief stained with tears, or a brooch of the lady of the house stolen after spending a night with her married husband – such things were perfect.

Beatrice obtained such objects very easily.

She would make young ladies fresh from the countryside cry by embarrassing them, then lend them handkerchiefs as if being kind, or stab a vicious creditor to death with scissors, or after spending the night with a wealthy noble infatuated with her, she would rummage through his wife’s vanity and take whatever she liked.

But stealing something from women related to Peon was never easy. Even after tumbling with the emperor, she couldn’t steal even one pearl from the empress.

By the time Peon got married, Countess Monde had received an entry ban, so Beatrice couldn’t get closer to Peon either and couldn’t take anything of Kaella’s. Anyway, stolen objects had to be briefly appreciated, then used for divination and disposed of without trouble.

For that reason, Beatrice took out an object she had found after searching the Grand Duke’s bedroom.

“You had such a cute thing, Kaella.”

She had taken the whole suspicious-looking crystal bottle containing liquid.

What could this be? She dropped a little of the liquid onto the bowl of mixed blood and water. The celestial map flickered, and strangely, the blood that hadn’t dispersed in the water floated in circles, then blue fire suddenly ignited on the surface.

For the first time, a smile formed on Beatrice’s face, which had been twisted all along.

“…Really cute?”

What was hidden in the bottle found between books, with the inner pages hollowed out, brought by none other than the boring Kaella de Chasse, was poison.

“Carrying such a deadly thing too… Have you grown up a lot?”

Finally. She had finally grasped a proper secret since coming to Lycenford. Beatrice, who could kill people with just that one small secret, peered into the basin where blue fire and red blood floated.

What would she see? What future would unfold? Blood vessels stood out in the whites of her eyes, and her pink pupils wandered the basin, trying to read anything.

At last, something distorted began to appear among the fire and smoke, blood and water.

*

Mysterious power impossible for humans. People called it magic, or sorcery.

According to legend, magicians were also scholars who created magical tools so that ordinary people could use magic more easily.

It is said that the wisest and most ancient dragon helped create these magical tools, but now no one believed that legend. Rather, they only hated the magic that dragons possessed.

Humans continued to want to create miracles, cause natural disasters, and know the future. So prophets and sorcerers kept appearing, with the rich and nobles as their regulars.

Sorcerers were despised as lowly but still raked in money. Just looking at how the emperor owned most of the legendary magical tools showed the demand.

But no matter how hard they tried, there were no magicians who could properly implement magic.

Since dragons swore not to use magic against the empire, the fact that the oath was strongly maintained proved how terrifying magic was. Even dragons couldn’t break that oath.

If a magician as great as a dragon appeared, every country would see that existence as both a threat and an opportunity.

“Aaargh…!”

Even screams disappeared into the flames that suddenly flared up. The soaked siege tower burned again.

It had rained heavily, and the air was full of moisture, but whether the oil was exceptionally good or not, fire caught without fail when flaming arrows flew. The flames grew instantly, devouring people.

Three days into the battle. Both sides had suffered massive damage and were still in a standoff at Fort Pueten. But even with damages, as time passed, the side with the mighty advantage of a fortress would naturally be more favorable.

“At least the fire catches well. It’s really fortunate that His Highness sent plenty of oil.”

Earl Wilberk muttered, gulping down water tiredly. Peon, who had flicked his finger once before the fire arose when no one was looking, smiled faintly.

“The rain is also doing its best.”

“It’s amazing. I thought you’d be very surprised coming from the peaceful south, but I didn’t expect you to even send water separately.”

Carts traveled ceaselessly between Lycenford and Pueten. Everyone was afraid of possible attacks, but Kaella bravely kept sending carts.

She sent clean water separately for soldiers to wet their throats, gathered arrows from each fortress, and sent food, clean bandages, and sometimes even doctors. It was natural for morale to rise with such solid support from the rear.

Moreover, the damage on Lycenford’s side was limited to the deaths of local influential nobles that Peon had specifically named and summoned.

Though the pillars supporting Lycenford had all died, when Peon himself jumped into the collapsed left castle wall, the allied foreign forces had no choice but to retreat.

“At this rate, those bastards might give up. If this is all they could do with the maximum troops they gathered this spring, honestly, I’d understand if Volga beheaded Halfdan.”

He meant he would understand if they fought among themselves, blaming each other.

“You have a talent for presenting your wishful thinking as a plausible story.”

“Is the possibility that low?”

“It exists. But Halfdan isn’t one to be easily beheaded.”

“That’s a shame.”

Earl Wilberk managed to hold back curses even in a situation where they came out automatically.

The other side must be feeling the same way about cursing.

They had prepared thoroughly and attacked a 28-year-old young Grand Duke supposedly lost in newlywed bliss, but they hadn’t expected him to not retreat to Lycenford and instead hold out at Pueten while ruthlessly sacrificing local nobles who were practically his support base.

It was completely different from the tactics Peon had used so far. Peon always tried to minimize sacrifices and not lose commanders. Sometimes that became his weakness, but in this battle, he was uncharacteristically cold and merciless.

“The evil dragon was actually easier to deal with.”

“Why is that?”

“Dragons always give up quickly.”

If Wilberk knew that was because the dragon couldn’t bear to hurt his son at the vanguard and repeatedly withdrew, he would faint on the spot.

“Humans never give up.”

They won’t leave until they get what they want. Things like food to survive a spring harsher than winter, land to sow seeds, and an unfrozen port. The more they gain, the better.

“Then we must make them give up.”

We’re in a hurry too. Peon’s fingers twitched. Flames burst from the burning siege tower, starting to devour even the foreign soldiers who were desperately trying to save it.

Even Earl Wilberk was startled, but considering the amount of oil poured in front of that gate for three days, the level of fire wasn’t unreasonable by common sense.

“How do we make them give up? It’s impossible unless they have internal strife.”

“Won’t internal strife occur?”

Earl Wilberk looked at Peon as if he couldn’t understand him, casually muttering amidst explosions and screams.

Two days later, the allied foreign forces disintegrated when Delgard rebelled and left first.