The verdant countryside glimmered under the warmth of the summer sun. It was a particularly hot day, as if summer had mustered together its remaining energy for one last hurrah, before it relinquished its place for autumn.
Yet, on top of this heat, the fields below still simmered under a running skirmish. Men and women, on foot or on horseback, ran back and forth, slinging rocks, arrows and whatever else they could throw at each other. Above them the sky flickered as though fireworks were on full display. A flurry of mighty spells, coming from both sides, smashed repeatedly against a criss-crossing wall of light that bisected the width of front. Everything from jets of flame, to bolts of lightning, and even spears of rock and ice crashed onto it, but having no effect other than spraying their magical substance back into the aether.
This wall was in fact, two magic barriers, pressed against each other, preventing the other side's spells from penetrating their respective boundaries.
Nevertheless, the pressure needed to be maintained. For just as a castle wall may come down from a relentless siege, so, too, would a magical barrier. Theoretically.
And thus, a fireball streaked overhead right when two soldiers in red shirts descended into a dug-out embankment on the side of the hill.
"Hans! Do you understand!?" one said to the other, "We need those reinforcements!"
"Yes, sir!" the young man replied as he immediately ran up the slope.
He then cupped his hands around his mouth and screamed, "Once you deliver that message, run right back! You hear me!?"
But the boy soon disappeared from view, leaving order answered. And thus, the old man scratched his greying hairline, let out a sigh and sat down into the embankment, joining a couple of others already resting their backs against the dirt.
"...fur scheisse!" He chomped his teeth down and grated. "Why even contest that village in the first place? We never had the manpower for that! And now we hardly have enough left to man these gods-forsaken outposts."
"Now, now, Captain," said one holding a cracker, "keep your voice down, the mages might hear you. It's bad for morale."
He sighed again, even deeper, as his head fell limp, landing atop his knees as he settled into his seat.
A lightning bolt then zipped by, grabbing all three's attention for a whole second.
Afterwards, the third chuckled. And with a soft, silky voice one might not expect from a man, he said, "Isn't it fine? When the situation becomes untenable, we can just retreat right back to the fort and the General won't be able to complain."
"We're holding out here in the fucking sun because we can't retreat behind the walls! If we lose the ateliers here, we'd be better off routing rather than wait it out in that wooden death trap!"
"Hmm...? But wasn't the Magus Team from Alfheimr building an atelier inside the fort?"
He grunted, bringing his fingers together and resting his chin on top. "You can't use that one. Unless you want your innards to explode the moment you cast a spell."
The cracker slipped from the man's hand and landed in the dirt. "Wha- A Grand Atelier? But we don't have anyone that could u-"
"Not yet." He stiffened his expression. "But we will. That's why we have to hold these ateliers. If they demolish the fort, everything will be for nought, and we'll be forced to retreat through forests and mountains on the way back to Griffonland. And in the current political situation in that province, it wouldn't be strange if we get attacked by a bunch of black caps along the way."
"Shit." The other one said, "Those Griffonlanders are just insane. Right before deployment, I heard some crazy fucks lit their own bodies on fire and threw themselves into the provincial governor's office. And the governor's a native Griffonlander, too."
"Hm." A meager smirk then surfaced on his lips. "Besides, I'm about to retire in a few months... and the last thing I want is a black mark that could affect my lifetime pension."
"Haha!" He patted the old man on his back. "Right, that! The Lager's on you every time we visit Märchenberg, eh?"
"Sure, but only so long as you only visit once a ye-,"
But he was cut off when a man in light scale armor ran down into embankment and saluted to him. "Sir! Urgent report!"
"Ah, yes!" he said, before turning to his mates, "excuse me for a second."
He then stood up and joined the messenger by the mages' atelier.
"Go ahead."
"Captain," the young man responded, "the enemy is preparing to advance along two main axes. One cutting across the farmlands, and another straight north from their foothold in the village. Our scouts estimate two or three companies committed to this action."
His fingers balled into a tight fist as a dire expression clouded his face.
Sending the messenger off, the old man soon returned to his subordinates, yelling, "Hey, you lot! It's time for work!"
"Oh? New orders, Captain?" asked the one nibbling on yet another cracker.
"It's time to bring down our real firepower. You are authorized to employ the highest tier of spells under my orders."
"Hrm..." the other grimaced, "a full assault..."
He nodded. "Across the entire front. They think just because they outnumber us that they can overwhelm us on that basis. Fine. Then we'll teach them that sorcery does not discriminate by number. If they want to break themselves in our first defense line, then let them come!" He looked to the one with the soft voice. "Karl, make sure our barrier is maintained. You will stay by my side and relay my commands via illumination."
"Got it, Captain," he said, using his staff as a brace to get up to his feet.
He then turned to the other. "Ernst, your section will bombard targets at your discretion. Our forward elements are thin around the plains, but only for the same reason I want you to focus your bombardment there-"
"Heh." A toothy grin formed across his face as he lifted himself up.
"-there is nowhere to hide."
"Basically, stepping on a bunch of ants, right? Easy enough."
"Mm!" He nodded, "Then, go!"
As the two ran over to their respective ateliers, the captain was left to himself, tapping his feet anxiously.
Where the hell is Hans!? He better not have hidden himself in the fort again!
Amidst his rant, a furious torrent of spells erupted behind him. All sorts of elements streamed into the distance, some of which he was, himself, able to see just out the corner of his eye, striking a smaller, dome-shaped magical shield that the Raffalian mages had erected over their forces within their side of the great wall of light.
If the ateliers fall, then our barrier cannot be maintained. Then those wooden palisades will be nothing but a deathtrap for anyone inside. Damn...! And the black cap rebellion is slowing our stream of reinforcements too... not to mention the Grand Sorceress is-
Just as he said this, a scream erupted from behind him, "We're illuminated!"
"Snuff them out!" Ernst's screaming voice echoed against the face of the hillside, "Hurry!"
But a loud crash soon followed, sending a tremor across the ground that crawled even through his boots right up to his ankles.
He froze in place, his skin turning into gooseflesh as he slowly turned around to survey the aftermath.
And in the next moment, his senses were met with the screams of his atelier mages scrambling for cover behind the raised embankment. On the ground, a young woman had been staked through the chest by a massive, flaming arrow. Her hands twitched even as they fell limp onto the ground and blood gushed from her lips, streaming down her cheek an accumulating in a pool on the ground.
His eyes widened in abject fury. "Mage... hunters...!?"
Bright orbs of light sparkled in the distance, streaking up to a single point and hanging over it for just a few seconds before being snuffed out by a wave of magical energy from below. Another light would then take its place, shooting out from several points across the battlefield.
It was the signal that the battery commander had been waiting for. With a chart in hand, he called out his first order with a sandy roar, "Ranging volley!"
It took two men to lift each bolt into the launch mechanism. Once prepped, the mage stationed at each ballista would then set the arrowheads alight with a fire spell. Eight such weapons, arrayed in a rough line, formed this battery, with two more groups positioned a distance away on either side.
"Loose!"
With a loud thump, the fiery arrows leapt into the air one after the other, at progressively higher angles. Each weapon fired in succession, forming a shimmering stream of fire across the sky. The projectiles phased through both magical barriers as though they were air and soon hit the faraway hillside. Each one landed in succession, producing a rough line, which the battery commander then used as reference.
"Ballista four," he called out, "report angle!"
"40 degrees sir!" the sub-commander responded.
After a quick cross-reference, he finally made his call: "Battery-Center, adjust elevation to 40 degrees!" Each sub-commander echoed his every command. "Keep horizontal spread to a minimum! Ready barrage on my signal!"
With all haste, the crewmen readjusted the pitch of their contraption, reeled the bowstring back for another second shot and gathered a whole stack of bolts .
"Load!"
The battery commander raised his arm in the air.
Scanning his men, one last time, he then swung his arm down with considerable force and screamed, "Loose!"
Like so, the weapons pummeled the hillside. This cycle repeated for as long as there was still ammunition by their feet. And in total, the three batteries peppered the enemy's ateliers with close to a hundred bolts.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
"Hmm..." An inquisitive voice approached from behind. "So you use these contraptions to attack sorcerers from afar..." The voice then let out quite the feminine chuckle, adding, "Pretty clever."
The battery commander turned around, only to meet eyes, for just an instant, with a tall, fair lady in a dress shirt. Her long, golden locks shimmered brilliantly under the sunlight, forming something close to a halo around her flawless face.
Aghast, he immediately turned away, lest he be blinded by her radiance.
"W-who...?" he muttered under his breath.
A man's voice then followed, "I am glad our humble arsenal has entertained our dear heroine-"
"...!?"
Apart from what was said, it was a voice he fully recognized. And when he snuck a second glance, he confirmed his suspicions.
It was the Senator's Lieutenant. And beside him was none other than the Spear Maiden, curiously inspecting the ballista team closest to them.
"-But this effort would not be possible," he continued, "if not for our the 56th's brave mages who volunteered to follow behind the line companies in order to highlight the location of the enemy atelier. This is a textbook anti-mage tactic, devised from the last war against Easter, and the quintessence of modern warfare."
"Mmm... yeah, but you know," Nothing in her tone suggested she was even remotely interested in his lecture. Moreover, she then lazily crossed her arms behind her head as she continued, "isn't it boring? If you have something like this, couldn't you just keep beating the enemy from miles away? If this is how all humans in this world fight, I might actually die of boredom."
He let out a light chuckle. "Please don't say that. We humans are rather cowardly creatures. If there is no path to victory but though a river of blood, we simply cannot help but build a bridge over it." He said, tapping the light ballista right as the machine convulsed violently, flinging what may as well be a spear dozens of feet into the air.
"Hmm..." she moaned, unconvinced, "Humans in my world aren't."
"Well, there are, of course, counter-tactics to use against an opponent that uses field ballistas in this way. Ah-" He then glanced at her curiously. "Perhaps you can share with us the stratagems used in your world then, dear Heroine? For instance, when besieging a fortress such as this."
"Haha, are you kidding?" she said, waving her hand in front of her face, "Demons don't build fortresses, they destroy them! Oh, but if it's defending them, then I guess I do have a little experience... Basically it just boils down to 'hack them down when they scale the walls', right?" She then swept her arms downward, as though they were holding a sword.
The battery commander covered his mouth as he grimaced, even though he was quite confident neither were paying any attention to him.
So this is the rumored Spear Maiden...?
"A-ahh... I see." The young man nodded, though his tone carried some doubt. "With strength comes simplicity, perhaps? Still, I thank you for sharing your wisdom."
"Mm-hmm!" Her lips widened.
And, as if her smile radiated warmth to those who witnessed it, the battery commander clutched his chest. Fighting off its effects, he shook his head with great vigor and focused his gaze out into the field of battle.
It couldn't completely rid her from his mind, however.
By the Gods, her appearance is just as the lads say... her gestures though... and that attitude! I think I've seen soldiers more demure...
Amidst his eavesdropping, a voice suddenly called out to him, "Sir!"
His entire body jolted into stiff attention, and only after a moment passed did he notice this young man running up to him. From the uniform alone, he could easily tell it was one of the milice, perhaps Moyenne's, which, after their bloody deployment, were folded into logistics.
Clearing his throat, he asked, "What is it?"
"Sir," the boy replied, "from the 80th - the last barrage hasn't suppressed the enemy ateliers, they are requesting continued pressure on the hillside."
"Hng...!?" His expression immediately darkened as he began muttering to himself, "It can't be... if they refused to abandon the ateliers under that saturation attack, they shouldn't have enough mages left to even maintain their field barrier... but if they escaped, our forces ought to have at least a few more minutes before the survivors could regroup and reactivate their atelier!" His brows then jumped. "I see... they must have prepared dugouts, huh?"
The nervous militiaman, meanwhile, remained in stiff salute the whole time.
"Aah. My apologies. Dismissed. Thank you."
"Yes, sir!" he said, as he ran back in the direction of the camp.
Now then... we do have some oil pots, but I was saving those just in case the marshall needs us to strike the fort directly...
He shook his head.
No point in that, I guess. We're expecting a resupply soon anyway.
In that instant, the face of the Spear Maiden from a moment ago flashed from his memories, but when he turned his eyes, both she and her escort were gone.
"Hmm..." He scratched his temple. "Bit of a shame."
I guess even Legendary Heroes can't be too perfect, huh...?
This is bad...
Mika stepped in front of the marshall's tent, blocked off by an armed guard.
"Captain d' Robert is in the middle of an important brief with the marshall," the soldier said, standing his spear on the ground to block her path, "it will be finished soon, so wait there."
She was not the first in the waiting line, either. Before her was a young man, pouring sweat all over his back. She recognized him as part of his company in the milice, though she had not made his acquaintance, nor had she any intention to.
Inside, the Senator's voice boomed, hardly muffled by the thick fibers of the tent weave.
"Alright," he said, "once those forward ateliers are taken care of, our own mages can finally unleash hell upon that fort without risking retaliation! St. Georges. This is your time. Soon, the Line companies will close the distance. So, while the enemy distracted, sneak your men around the flank here through the woods and break through their defenses! Bwahahahaha! At this rate, we'll be on our way home in a few days! Now, then, dismissed!"
Because of my inaction, Rafale is on the cusp of a decisive victory. If it's come to this, no amount of harassment or half-measures will affect the outcome.
As the Captains departed one-by-one from the tent, the two were finally allowed deliver her reports.
"Sir," the young man came first, with a salute to their Captain, "report from the front - the Assault Companies are advancing and the anti-mage group is suppressing the enemy ateliers. However, they have shown no signs of abandoning their positions."
Overhearing this just as he, too left the tent, the senator cheered, "Hah! Those fools! St. Georges, this is the perfect opportunity. Muster your men with all haste! Let no mage escape. That hillside shall be their grave!"
There is only one option remaining: kill this man - Senator Renault.
"Hmph." The armored knight tapped his closed fist upon his chest. "Consider it done, your honor."
It was her turn to deliver a report.
"Sir," she said, "the 80th Line Company is facing stiff resistance north of the village. A breakthrough seems unlikely."
Their captain's head drooped down as he let out an anxious sigh. "I see. Thank you both. You may rest for now."
She nodded, but not without sneaking one last glance unto the Senator, whose long sleeves jerked violently just then as he grumbled to the captain, "What!? Don't tell me the 80th is already tired after one quick engagement! Where is Captain Allemagne!?"
"Right here, your honor!" another man said as he emerged from the tent.
"Captain! The 82nd Line Company is taken off reserve. Immediately reinforce the southern assault and break the enemy's line!"
Startled, he clasped his hands together, pleading, "B-but sir, the frontage north of the village is far too narrow for two com-"
He was, however, stopped flat with a single downward glare from the titanic senator. "That is an order, Captain Allemagne. We have a schedule to keep."
"Y-yes, your honor..."
Mika shortly left earshot of the tent, her eyes remaining fixed in the middle distance. Indeed, she barely noticed another milice scout nearly bump into her as he delivered his report.
If the leader dies, then the rest of the army should wither. At least, the chaos should give Easter an opportunity to shore up its defense.
"Sir, forward scouts reported a convoy approaching from the north! Likely enemy reinforce-" His voice barely reached her ears, before it, too, dissolved away into the distance.
But how? A time-delayed toxin would be ideal. It could make him look as if he died in battle... but I have not once seen him in armor. He does not seem to have any intention of taking to the field. In that case, should I just kill him outright? It would be difficult to sneak poison past these guards, especially since he, of course, gets his own meals cooked separately from all of us...
As if by habit, her fingers slowly reached into her belt pouch, wherein she kept several vials of her 'creations'.
I also have very few chances of meeting him face-to-face, let alone in a private setting.
Behind her, some distant laughter ensued, attracting nothing more than a passing glance from her.
Still, all roads point to preparing an escape route beforehand.
Her eyes fell, slowly losing their sheen as she leveled her gaze.
Guess it's time for work.