Interlude: Outside Perspectives

“Official overseers and Gilbert Rafa Redgrave report victory in Carkus.” the messenger says. “The enemy kingdom has capitulated in accordance to the terms set during the duel between the late King Davian Uno Carkus IV and Lieutenant Leon Fou Marshwell. The forces present there report general compliance by the Carkussans, but there are several holdouts from stubborn Carkus nobles or military officers.”

Whispers break out among the attendees, while Mylene retains her impassive outlook. Internally, she worries.

The Carkus campaign was originally expected to last a year at least, what with the incompetent leading it. It grated at her that she couldn’t assign someone more capable to that role, but she took solace in the fact that he was relieved of his position and ‘dealt with’. But it did leave the source of this development unattended– Leon Fou Marshwell.

Seemingly springing up from nowhere to turn the tide of battle and employing a strategy none-have seen thus far, he had played an instrumental role in the conquest of the Kingdom of Carkus. His combat acumen, in and out of an Armor, further cemented that status and many were his direct contributions to the war effort– from dueling ace Carkussan pilots to personally sinking Carkussan ships. Many call him a hero now, and a few even say him to be the greatest warrior in Holfort.

He would be awarded with knighthood at least, in acknowledgement to his skills in battle and tactical acumen. There should be more, but his situation is… atypical. So much so that a court meeting had to be called to discuss the finer details of it.

“The soldier that dueled the King of Carkus and won,” one noble asks. “Is he really 13?”

“According to his claims and general appearance, yes. Records in the military archives state that he is of age, however.” the messenger confirms.

“What parent would send a child into war? And why?” a second noble muses. “Influence? Money? Removal of a threat?”

“Bah, the boy probably faked his age to enlist– he is at that age, after all.” another snorts. “People have faked their ages to enlist before, why not them as well?”

“But so many? You’ve read the Redgrave heir’s report– Marshwell isn’t the only one.” the first noble argues. “And then there is the circumstances of his marriage to think about, and him immediately joining the military with the sort of speed that draws suspicion.”

“You believe this to be planned, Marquis Hilton?” Mylene asks, turning to the speaker.

“I believe these circumstances require further examination, Your Majesty,” the noble bows to her. “Perhaps assign a trustworthy individual or a group of such individuals to verify the boy’s claims. He conquered a Kingdom for us, however small– I believe we, as nobles, must at least see to it that his claims of this ‘Forest of Ladies’ is not a fabrication.”

“I can assign my son to begin investigations immediately.” Duke Vincent Rafa Redgrave says. “Regardless of whether or not Marshwell’s claims are true, it is a potential internal threat to the Kingdom. And based on my son’s observation, the boy is not the kind of person to lie about a matter this important.”

“Indeed. And if his claim is true, then we have vipers in our midst.” Mylene’s husband states. “Do what you must, Vincent. Let not this hidden rot spread any further than it already has. Saint knows how many boys these supposed fiends have sent to die for their own benefit– no more will they harm our future.”

Approval and like-minded nodding spread through the court as Roland’s words and charisma worked their magic. Mylene stops herself from rolling her eyes, having long since grown used to this sort of behavior from him. Oh, how she wished he put that to work in actually helping her run the Kingdom instead of gallivanting off to Saint knows where doing Saint knows what or who, but she’d have better luck wringing blood from a stone.

The sacrifices she has to make for this Kingdom…

“On the subject of the Marshwell boy,” Marquis Malcolm Fou Frampton cuts in. “He had overstepped his rank, to have agreed to such a duel as he did. He is but a Baron, and a child at that– he possessed neither rank, knowledge, nor experience to accept the Carkus King’s duel.”

“He won us a kingdom, Marquis. And his previous combat performance speak well of his odds.” a noble says.

“He could have cost us a premature end to the conquest.” the Minister of Defense snorts. “They conquered little over half of Carkus, fought through so many battles, lost so many people– one mistake could have cost us all the gains the military had made.”

“But he did not lose.” Vincent says, leveling a look at Frampton. “And a kingdom is ours.”

“...he still acted beyond his station.” the minister huffs, cowed under the Duke’s gaze. “Such a thing cannot go unpunished.”

“To my understanding, there is still resistance in Carkus from noble families and military officers that refused to accept their late King’s final decree.” Mylene compromises. “I would suggest to the court that the boy be ordered to remain in Carkus and deal with the resistance, only being permitted to return to Holfort after the Kingdom is brought fully under control– to teach him the consequences of his youthful rashness and further hone his leadership skills.”

“It feels… too light to be considered a punishment.” a noble muses.

“He won an honorable duel to secure us new territory. I would believe that his deeds warrants an understandable lightening to his punishment.” Mylene clarifes. “Is this satisfactory, Marquis Framton?”

“It is, Your Highness.” the minister bows. “I accede to your wisdom.”

“Excellent. Now, moving on to the reintegration and distribution of the captured territories…”

=X=X=X=X=X=

Victory in 4 months.

Again and again, Clarice Fia Atlee hears those words spoken among her followers and supporters and family retainers. A war won in a relative blink of an eye where many expected it to last longer, a single Armor pilot and warrior taking on impossible odds and winning again and again, an honorable duel against a superior foe won through incredible skill. She can scarcely believe it herself that such a conflict could be won in such a short time, and by the work of a boy no older than she herself is no less.

So she decides to verify for herself.

“Donovan~” the Atlee heiress singsongs, skipping into the kitchens and making a beeline straight for the staff dining area. “I’m curious about something~”

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Lady Clarice, you know you’re not supposed to be here.” Donovon Fou Glawnegs sighs into his food. “And don’t you have tutoring lessons to attend? Your father would get upset at you for doing this.”

“Daddy won’t mind as long as I keep up with the lessons on my own~ Besides, this is just as important as it is to mess with you!” Clarice giggles. “So, I’ve been hearing a lot of things about the Carkus War and this ‘Raven’ fellow. Could you be so helpful as to explain?”

“The Carkus War? Milady, I don’t recall you nor Lord Atlee having any kind of involvement with that.” Donovan blinks.

“We don’t, but lately its been nothing but ‘Carkus this’ and ‘war hero’ that– it’s driving me mad!” Clarice pouts. “And I’d like to have something to talk to Jilk about the next time he comes by to visit. Boys like this kind of stuff, right? About war and fighting?”

Donovan laughs, gesturing to Clarice to sit across from him. She readily complied, eagerness and excitement rising in the pit of her stomach.

“Well, alright. I have a few brothers serving in the military that have friends in Carkus. What do you know of the conflict, milady?”

“Well, I know the basics.” Clarice crosses her legs, thinking. “It was a border dispute that erupted into open conflict sometime… last year? Relatively recently, anyway. The Army was dispatched but progress was slow. It wasn’t until the 422nd were deployed that things sped up. Dramatically, at that.”

“That’s the gist of it, yes. My brothers aren’t in the 422nd, but they worked close enough with them to occasionally see them in action some times.” Donovan sighs. “According to them, the entire unit was… very impressive. Not at first, but they got in line quickly under their leader– Baron Marshwell.”

“I heard about him– he’s the boy people keep talking about, right? The one that’s supposedly younger than the minimum enlistment age is, right?” Clarice hums.

“Indeed, but you wouldn’t know that by the way he acts. My brothers tell me he’s… quite intimidating.” Donovon nods. “He has this air about him that makes people listen when he speaks, and follow when he acts. He’s smart, too– all the strategies and tactics he’s done were made to make sure as few people as possible under him died. And he’s merciful to his opponents too, even against enemy aces.”

“Was it true he sank a warfleet on his own?” Clarice asks, excitement growing.

“My brothers only hand secondhand information, but they swear up and down that he did.” Donovan nods. “Warfleets, enemy Armors, fortresses, aces– only the late King of Carkus managed to put up a fight, and even then he obliged him with swordfight rather than fighting him at range.”

Despite herself, Clarice found her heart racing as Donovon kept speaking; his own awe infectious.

“Tell me about the duel he had with the Carkus King!” the noblewoman excitedly demands. “I heard he fought against the Carkus secret weapon and beat it! How?”

=X=X=X=X=X=

“...Impressive.”

“Is that praise I hear from your tongue, Viscount Zenden?”

Vandel Him Zenden, the Black Knight and best warrior of Fanoss, allowed himself enough pettiness to shoot a glare at the Earl across from him. The man has the audacity to smirk, knowing the knight wouldn’t do anything when the Princesses were here. And he was right, Vandel indeed wouldn’t do anything here.

Not when it could cost him his chance at vengeance.

“Loathe as I am of Holfort and the scum that dwell in it, even I can learn to appreciate others’ martial prowess and tactical acumen. This Marshwell boy certainly displays much of either, putting him a cut above most of the trash that occupy the Holfortan lands.” Vandel snorts. “That he is much too young to be on a battlefield speaks well of the cruelty the Holfortans subject their youth to.”

Indeed, the Kingdom of Holfort is cruel for letting boys fight and die in their wars. And using strategies as primitive as throwing lives at a problem until it went away– it sparked as much discontent in him as it did grim satisfaction. But then, such was the luxuries a country possessed when their armies could outnumber the populations of lesser kingdoms.

But then, something changed. This Leon Fou Marshwell, or Raven as he was named by the late Carkus King, pioneered strategies that took advantage of their Armors at last and allowed them to encircle and capture positions with the sort of ease no-one expected to see. Such strategies were already being disseminated and examined by other officers of the Fanossian military, and appropriate countermeasures are being made.

Still, it is worrying.

“Indeed.” Princess Hertrude Sera Fanoss nods, eyes glued on the report in her hands. A copy of it sits in her sister’s hands as well, though she looks a little overwhelmed at what she reads. “This is a troubling development for our future plans– a pilot and tactician capable of conquering a whole lesser kingdom in 4 months is… unheard of.”

“He is likely a prodigy, Princess.” Vandel nods. “Though to have been deployed so young…”

“He’s only as old as you are, Sister.” Hertauda Sera Fanoss adds.

“It is to be expected, given the Holfortan’s history of cruelty and tyranny, that they would be quick to throw away the lives of their children.” Earl Garret sighs theatrically, twirling his mustache. “Removing them from the world would do us and all the neighboring countries a great service. No greater justice is needed for our glorious purge of that evil Kingdom.”

“My sentiments exactly.” Princess Hertrude nods, followed suit by her sister.

Vandel doesn’t snort, but it’s a near thing. Sometimes he wishes that such manipulation and lies were unnecessary, on ones as young as the princesses no less. It rankles him that he must use such means on such impressionable minds.

But Holfort must pay for taking his wife and daughter from him. All of them. Every man, woman, and child. Every town and city and village and farm. All of it, all of it, must be burned to ash and salted into complete lifelessness. Then, and only then, would he speak to the princesses and tell them the whole truth– and resign himself to whatever punishment they deem fit for what he’s done to them.

Until then, he will live with the lies just a little while longer.