Chapter 7

28th Day, Upper Wind Month, 1 CE

Emmad Zorlu disembarked onto a pontoon pier anchored off of the city of Oriculon. A hundred metres of water stood between the pier and the Sorcerous Kingdom’s future exclave, which had been cleared of every building. Even the pavement and underlying sewer system had been torn up, leaving a desolate swathe of mud and debris.

“What happened there?”

He looked over his shoulder at Captain Sella, who was rocking back and forth slightly as he tested the stability of the pier.

“The Sorcerous Kingdom leased the western harbour,” Emmad told him. “They’re building an exclave there to service both their trade and their diplomatic mission.”

The Captain and his company followed Emmad to where the pier connected to the shore near the palace quarter’s western gate. They had been transferred to Oriculon to both help with policing duties and to begin training new squads for the Draconic Kingdom’s Royal Army. Recruitment had started back at the same time that lands were being allocated for resettlement – there were always men who believed they better served the Queen as soldiers over being Farmers or anything else.

He stopped just inside the palace quarter, where Captain Scavo awaited their arrival.

“Marshal Zorlu,” the Captain offered a salute.

“Captain Scavo,” Emmad returned the salute. “This is Captain Sella and his company from Highfort. I don’t believe they’ve ever been to Oriculon.”

“So these are the heroes of Highfort, eh?”

“A few of them,” Captain Sella replied. “We’ll be in your care, Captain Scavo.”

“Glad to have ya. You’ve all become a bit famous around here so I’m sure you’ll enjoy your stay. Just have a little mercy and leave a few girls for the rest of us, please.”

“Hmm, I don’t know if we can accommodate you on that request…”

After a shared laugh, Captain Scavo motioned for his men to lead the company to their lodgings in the city’s barracks. Captain Sella turned to address Emmad.

“We’ll probably need a bit to get everyone situated, Your Excellency,” he said. “The Clerics, especially – they need to go into the city to report to their respective temples. When do you think you’ll need us?”

“I’ll have to check with Zahradnik first,” Emmad replied. “We have a lot to catch up on, so you’ll probably at least have until the afternoon.”

The Captain nodded and went on his way. Emmad turned to walk up the street toward the palace.

While the palace quarter had been long cleared of corpses, the estates and offices still hadn’t seen any maintenance since the battle in the capital. The entire country being pillaged by the Beastmen left everyone in dire financial straits, so the nobility couldn’t even afford to hire the most basic of household staff. When the rainy season arrived, the untended gardens and estates would transform the district into a veritable jungle.

He made his way into the palace and went to the western wing, fixing his outfit before approaching the war room door.

“Marshal Zorlu, here to see Captain Zahradnik.”

One of the Death Knights at the door went into the room, reappearing a moment later with Lady Zahradnik’s Maid, Aemilia Luzi. There was no sign of her being self-conscious of the fact that she had considered unapologetically smashing him with her mace over suspicions of espionage less than two weeks previous.

“Welcome, Your Excellency,” the blonde-haired woman lowered her head respectfully. “This way, please.”

Within the main chamber of the state-room-turned-war-room, he found the Baroness with her two lieutenants and two ‘apprentices’. Several Elder Liches stood around the room, as usual, working at the main table or the desks along the walls.

“Marshal Zorlu,” The Baroness greeted him with a salute. “How was your time in Blighthold?”

“The garrison didn’t leave me with much work to do,” Emmad returned her salute as he stepped up to the table.

“It’s still good to see how your army handles domestic security. Appearing before the soldiers can have a positive effect, as well.”

“Does that apply to the Undead?”

Lady Zahradnik exchanged looks with the Elder Liches along the sides of the table.

“Some of them claim that it does,” she smiled slightly, “though it’s not exactly the same as what the living experience. A Commander’s abilities are at their most effective when they develop a solid rapport with their subordinates. The Undead are no exception to that rule.”

He couldn’t imagine what establishing a rapport with the Undead involved. His eyes went to the map on the table, which showed a broad front forming from north to south across the Oriculon Reach. A multitude of markers lay in their path, symbolising the Beastman forces.

Emmad pointed at the ones nearest to the lines in the north.

“Are these runners?”

“Yes, Your Excellency. We’re less than a day out from the River Forst, but we won’t overrun them unless we detect a reaction from the east. We were also able to interrogate some Beastman Lords over the last few days.”

“How?”

“They’re not very strong, so they’re susceptible to mind control.”

Any information gained through mind control would never be considered valid in any court of the Draconic Kingdom, but did it apply to Beastmen? Never mind the Beastmen, it was the Undead that were doing the mind controlling.

“Then you should know exactly what we’ll be facing.”

“No, Your Excellency,” Lady Zahradnik shook her head. “Mind controlling a subject does not mean you learn everything that their people know. They only know what they know, and what they know isn’t necessarily true. In the case of the Beastman Lords, the information was…chaotic, to put it lightly.”

The Baroness nodded to the girl on her left – Olga, if he remembered correctly – and she came over and handed him a tan-coloured folder. Its contents were at least two centimetres thick.

“That’s merely for reference,” Lady Zahradnik said. “I wouldn’t expect anyone to read it all right away. If you do get around to it, however, you’ll quickly see what I mean.”

She took a plotting rod and pointed it at Corrin-on-the-Lake.

“According to every source – including what we could make out with our reconnaissance efforts – Corrin-on-the-Lake is the headquarters of the Beastman forces in the Draconic Kingdom. Not only does it serve as the main base for their warrior caste, but it is also the political and economic centre of the occupation. Unlike Rivergarden and the cities in the west, where the Beastmen live in copses around the countryside, Corrin-on-the-Lake is completely occupied by Beastman.”

“Do you know what happened to the Human residents?”

“Not for certain, Your Excellency. The Beastmen we questioned didn’t have any information about that. Every single one of them passed through the city after it was occupied. We can only guess that they’ve received the same treatment as the population in the west.”

The ‘same treatment’ meant that anything that the Beastmen considered ‘non-essential’ was consumed in favour of expanding the ‘farm population’. It was one of the major issues that would continue to plague the Draconic Kingdom even after its lands had been wholly reclaimed.

“Then what about the citizens in the countryside?”

“Since the Beastmen have organised things so neatly, we can confidently say that about fifty per cent of the population is still present in the eastern provinces.”

Fifty per cent. That’s one million people.

If one had relatives in the east, survival was merely a flip of a coin. At least for the rural common folk.

“So how will you proceed from here?” He asked, “Will you use the same strategy?”

“That’s yet to be seen,” the Baroness answered, “though I’m fairly confident that it won’t work in its current iteration. The degree of organisation in these eastern provinces is too high to assume that something as simple as a horde of Undead will be effective. Speaking of which, there are some things that I’d like to confirm with Your Excellency.”

Lady Zahradnik took out a folder of her own, withdrawing an earmarked page.

“We have some sense of their structure now,” she said, “but I’m not sure how they line up with accounts on your side. In particular, there is a certain ‘Kal’il-Endratha nar Torokgha’ – the best approximation I can come up with is ‘Duke’ or ‘Marquis Dratha of the Torokgha Tigerfolk’ – who is the leader of the Beastman invasion. They also laughed with Saiko about how the ‘Warmaster’ would ultimately crush our counteroffensive.”

“They laughed with an Elder Lich?”

“Questioning someone using charm-type magic can get a little strange,” Lady Zahradnik said. “The person doing the charming is treated as a close ally or best friend of the target, so all of the information retrieved is framed along those lines.”

He tried to imagine what it would be like to act as a Beastman’s best friend, but he couldn’t. For all of their close-mouthed nature, the Elder Liches must have possessed talent as actors.

“What I’d like to confirm is whether this individual is the same individual that was killed by the Draconic Kingdom’s Adventurers, or if the Beastmen are referring to someone else – a successor to that individual or an entirely new leader, for instance.”

“Only the Adventurers knew the leader by sight,” Emmad replied. “By their description, he was a powerful Tiger Beastman Lord. It took Crystal Tear – our only Adamantite-rank Adventurer party – two Orichalcum-rank parties and six Mithril-rank parties to reach him.”

“So Your Excellency didn’t know his name.”

“No.”

“Is it possible that they resurrected him?”

“I’ve no recollection of anyone claiming specific Beastmen reappearing after being killed. Both the Adventurers and Army haven’t reported anything higher than Third-tier magic. Cerebrate came back with his head, too, and it was destroyed as part of the banquet’s celebrations. Crystal Tear’s Cleric said that Raise Dead requires an intact body to work, so that Beastman Lord should be gone for good.”

Lady Zahradnik cradled her right cheek in her gloved hand, looking down at the map on the table.

“I suppose we won’t know for sure unless we capture someone with more recent information. Do you at least know what a ‘Warmaster’ is?”

Emmad shook his head.

“I’ve never heard of the term before. It sounds like some sort of powerful Commander.”

“That was my thought as well.”

“Is it something to be concerned about?”

“It might be, Your Excellency,” Lady Zahradnik replied. “There’s usually significance attached to defined vocations. When someone says ‘Sergeant’ or ‘Captain’ or ‘Commander’, one can expect a well-rounded military officer that fits within one’s expectations for those roles. As those designations get more ‘special’, you can also expect a degree of specialisation or extra ‘power’, for lack of a better way to describe it.

“Martial Nobles and many Demihuman Lords, for instance, are members of the ruling martial elite and have capabilities that are suited to their place in society. The Dragoons of the Imperial Air Service are Captain-types who excel in high-mobility shock operations. The list of these specialised vocations is theoretically infinite.”

“So you’re worried that a ‘Warmaster’ may be as it sounds?”

“Yes, but not in a direct confrontation. If they’re a Commander-type, they’re still limited by troop quality, and, while a Captain can be individually powerful, they’re still at their best when leading others. Unless these Beastmen have been holding unprecedentedly powerful forces in reserve for whatever reason, the Royal Army’s Death-series squads will still be able to push them out of the Draconic Kingdom. The question is what it might cost us.”

Before the Queen left for Blighthold, Baroness Zahradnik had gone through a preliminary list of concerns for the remainder of their campaign. The first was that they might need to act more forcefully, which might result in undesirable collateral damage to the people and their holdings. Secondly, was a ‘logistical’ problem, where the offensive would disrupt the order that the Beastmen had established in the east, resulting in Beastmen going hungry and citizens getting eaten.

If they were dealing with some sort of powerful Beastman warlord, he could only imagine what sort of savagery would ensue.

“Is there a way to pre-empt anything they might try somehow?” Emmad asked, “It’s something you’ve been doing all this time.”

“What I can do depends on their behaviour, Your Excellency,” the Baroness’ plotting rod went to indicate a large town twenty kilometres north of Rivergarden. “Our first probing attack will be here. If they destroy the Undead, we’ll send a second probing attack against Rivergarden itself. Otherwise, we’ll add that second attack to the first and see how far they can get.”

“What will these probing attacks be composed of?”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“We’ll be using all available forces, minus the Death-series squads and their assembled cohorts. The Elder Liches commanding the vanguard have reported that their dominated forces have gotten tattered over time. They’ve expressed a desire to return to Katze and refresh their forces, so we’ll use up what they have left before doing so.”

“Is that safe? What if the Beastmen launch a counteroffensive once the Undead are spent?”

“That would be to our benefit,” the Baroness replied. “The territory along the entire front has been completely depopulated, so there will be plenty of time to react. Any Beastmen we kill there will be that many fewer defenders in the east.”

“How long will it take for the Elder Liches to return with fresh forces from Katze?”

“Approximately a week. Ideally, the two attacks we conduct will be three days apart, so it won’t be a full week on the front without expendable forces. Meanwhile, our reconnaissance elements will see what the Beastmen do. We will also be figuring out how to approach Foca Bay and the southern provinces, as Her Majesty has directed.”

Lady Zahradnik walked over to the southern part of the map.

“Have you been to this part of the Draconic Kingdom before, Your Excellency?”

“A few times when I was young,” Emmad said, “but we never stayed for long. The entire region is mountainous, and it gets more arid and sparse the closer one gets to the Syrillian Way. The coastline is high and treacherous, so there are few settled areas on the sea.”

“How will the coming wet season affect the area?”

“Flash floods are common. Most of the villages and towns there are built with that in mind. Trying to fight during that…I can’t see it happening.”

Now that they were talking about it, he realised that the coming wet season might introduce all sorts of complications to the campaign.

“I was hoping for that,” the Baroness said. “Back in my territory, when the reach floods, everything stops. Humans; Demihumans; everyone waits for the waters to recede. The environmental hazards are too great to risk – even for Demihumans adapted to life in the highlands and mountains.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Nothing complicated, Your Excellency. We’ll use squadrons of Elder Liches to fly in and pick them off one tribe at a time. If they’re isolated from one another, they won’t know what’s going on.”

“If that’s what you want to do, it’s best to wait for the first deluge.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s the official start of the rainy season. There will be pouring rain for about two weeks straight. Getting around by land during that time will be next to impossible.”

“Does that mean the riverlands will be flooding, as well?”

“Yes. It’s a festive time for us in the Draconic Kingdom. Barely anyone can work in those conditions, so they take the opportunity to get together.”

“It’s a nice tradition,” Lady Zahradnik smiled. “Your court should have let us know about it so we could arrange for something special.”

“There’s not much to it,” Emmad scratched the back of his hand. “Most of the country doesn’t make extravagant expenditures for anything. The palace only does so when entertaining foreign dignitaries. Nearly everything is devoted to our survival.”

“That should change soon, but I suppose it’s still good to have an occasion to remember the past. This region doesn’t retain its history very well.”

They kept working through the morning, with Baroness Zahradnik focusing on the southern provinces and how they might be able to swiftly reclaim them. Lunch was served partway through, and when sunlight started to slant its way into the western windows, she collected her things and put them away.

“It’s time for a change of pace, Your Excellency,” she said. “Olga, Raul, come with us. Commander Wiluvien, let me know immediately if something happens along the front.”

“Yes, Captain.”

The two children fell into step behind them, as did Miss Luzi. Emmad looked over his shoulder at the Half-Elf who was left behind.

“How come your two Half-Elf maids never enter the battlefield? They’re Commanders too, right?”

“They are,” Lady Zahradnik said, “but their primary role is serving as an extension of the general staff.”

“You’ve thrown that term around several times,” Emmad said, “but I have the sense that it’s not the same as what I think it is.”

“Your Excellency is probably right about that. I’ve never come across it in all of my reading. Actually, I started employing something similar before I knew what it was formally called, around a year ago. It was only after I officially became a member of the Royal Army that someone pointed out what I was doing.”

They turned the corner of the palace hall, making their way to the front entrance. The lonely echo of their footsteps served to reinforce the notion that the palace was practically empty with nearly all of the staff now working in Blighthold.

“Despite the name,” the Baroness said, “a general staff has nothing specifically to do with Generals. Rather than that, it is a general body of officers tasked with processing information and overseeing the operations of the military.”

“But our army does that as well,” Emmad said. “Captains of companies have their officers assist with their work, and Generals of armies do the same. The Marshals and Generals also come together to discuss and plan every aspect of military operations.”

“There is a distinct difference between that and what a general staff does,” Lady Zahradnik told him. “Before I joined the Royal Army, there were essentially two forms of ‘command staff’ that I knew of.

“The first is most simply defined as a ‘war council’. Tribal leaders, Nobles, ranking officers or anyone else in a ‘high’ position participates in a sort of forum for military planning. The type of thing that is almost always included in war stories – great leaders discussing strategy, debating what moves they’ll make or even having heated arguments where pride and reputation are on the line.”

Emmad nodded. He had grown up with a great love for war stories, and war councils were always included. For some reason, regardless of the story, they always seemed to have the same set of members. There were the great Generals, who awed the audience with their experience and wisdom, the Captains, who stirred the people’s hearts with their valour, and then there were the villainous sorts – usually a corrupt Noble, an officer in the pocket of Merchants, or someone else that had no right to stand at a war council – who pushed their selfish and evil agendas to the detriment of everyone.

“Second is what you’ve probably seen plenty of already: informal arrangements where seasoned or informed officers help out with their Commander’s duties.”

“That’s what I was referring to, yes.”

“I believe that every army in the region does both,” the Baroness said. “I know for a fact that the Imperial Army does, as I’ve worked with them before. The Sorcerous Kingdom’s general staff, however, doesn’t do any of that.”

A pair of men in palace guard uniforms opened the doors for them as they made their way out into the cloudy afternoon. Lady Zahradnik briskly made her way out of the palace grounds and into the main boulevard of the palace quarter.

“The general staff of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s Royal Army is the organisation that runs our military. It is divided into different departments, which see to their respective responsibilities. Wiluvien and Lluluvien, for instance, are officers in the intelligence department, and they are specialists in reconnaissance, security, and information management. Raul and Olga, on the other hand, are training to be part of field operations, which is what people classically envision Commanders to be.”

“So the reason why Wiluvien and Lluluvien never take the field is because it’s not their role in the first place.”

“Correct. Every member of the staff you see in the palace war room is a member of one department or the other. As a whole, they form the command staff for our expeditionary army, which answers to the general staff of the Sorcerous Kingdom. The general staff doesn’t only operate in wartime, either. There are departments for general administration, resource management, communications, logistics, education and training, and research and development. There’s even a department for civilian relations, which oversees our domestic security forces and develops procedures for them, amongst other things.”

She listed aspects of military operations that were familiar to him, yet framed them in an unfamiliar way. At best, they could be described as tasks that each provincial army was responsible for within their jurisdictions. Even then, how they handled things used the informal organisation that she had described before.

“Is that degree of organisation truly necessary?” He asked.

“As a Marshal,” Lady Zahradnik answered, “you’ll have to determine whether it is appropriate for the Draconic Kingdom or not. What I can say is that in the same way a Weaponsmith is better at forging weapons than a generic Blacksmith, so, too, do specialised officers see similar differences in performance. Wiluvien and Lluluvien already exceed me when it comes to most of what their specialisations cover. Personally, I believe the greatest benefit to having a general staff is that it allows each officer to perform their specific duties to their utmost.”

The Baroness stopped at the gate of a ransacked manor. After a moment, she turned and led them onto its bedraggled grounds. Emmad furrowed his brow in confusion.

“What are we doing?”

“We’re going to the city barracks to review Captain Sella and his men training your new recruits, but it occurred to me that I’ve never seen you fight, Your Excellency.”

His boots scraped to a halt at the edge of the pavement where Lady Zahradnik had stepped out onto an overgrown stretch of grass. She produced a two-and-a-half-metre-long spear from the magical container on her right hip, planting its base on the ground.

“I’ve not been in any battles aside from the defence of the palace,” Emmad said.

“That’s more than most see,” the Baroness replied.

“I also fought together with others.”

“Army squads generally do that. What of it?”

Lady Zahradnik waited for him with a suspiciously patient-looking smile on her face. He stepped out tentatively onto the grass and received the spear in both hands.

“What sort of training did you receive from your household?” The Baroness asked, “When Your Excellency first came to the war room, you had a spear and some sort of sword.”

Emmad swallowed.

“I didn’t receive any formal training from my house,” he finally managed. “My lord father forbade it. Everything I know is from secretly watching soldiers drill and spar. At least until the siege of the capital. Everyone had to go through mandatory training, then, but it was hastily enacted.”

“He forbade formal training?” Lady Zahradnik frowned, “Eastwatch is the main fortress guarding the Oriculon Reach, is it not?”

“It is,” his grip tightened on the spear. “But…my lord father feared for my safety. I wanted to join the army, but he wouldn’t allow it. The entire reason I ended up in Oriculon is because he wanted me far from danger.”

“…is that common in the Draconic Kingdom, Your Excellency?”

“Common enough,” Emmad replied. “I was angry when he sent me to the palace, but, at the same time, I understand that no parent wishes to put their child’s life at risk. It happens most often with the nobility: young scions like myself wanted to fight, and our parents did everything in their power to stop us. Even though it is our duty to lead on the front lines, they sent us away from them.”

Baroness Zahradnik’s gaze unfocused and she remained silent for a full minute.

“I assume that they never stated fears for their children’s safety as the reason why they were sent away?”

“That’s right,” Emmad replied. “They either sent them to serve in other households in other parts of the country or sent them to serve as members of the palace staff.”

“Which is already used as a way to ensure that a house’s lineage survives in some form should their home territories suffer major losses from raiding. Furthermore, only the best and brightest may serve in Oriculon, which gives Noble houses a way to preserve their most promising scions.”

He nodded as she spoke her thoughts aloud.

“I could see that as valid if they were purely civilian administrators,” Baroness Zahradnik said, “but that does the martial nobility no favours. We are born and bred for the battlefield – hiding us in the interior is a waste. If that’s the case, who is it that occupies positions of command? By Draconic Kingdom law, Commanders, Generals and Marshals must be from the aristocracy.”

“They usually take up those posts after they sire enough heirs.”

“And how do they fare?”

“Not well. Nine out of ten die within the first year of service.”

“What about the ten per cent that lives?”

“Most of them die by the end of the second year,” Emmad looked down at the grass. “If one survives to the third year, it’s likely that they’re made General out of the sheer lack of competition for the position.”

“And all that reinforces parents’ fears of losing their children. The Beastmen’s preference for targeting ‘Lords’ is truly telling there.”

“Yes. Commoners have a much higher survival rate than Nobles on the frontier.”

“But not by much. The longest-serving soldier from Highfort has only been in the military for five years.”

The Draconic Kingdom’s situation already sounded dire from a cursory description. It sounded far worse when discussed in depth.

“That helps to identify some potential weaknesses in your military that should have never happened,” Lady Zahradnik said. “Were there any Commanders with a history of exceptional performance, Your Excellency?”

“I wouldn’t say that they performed poorly,” Emmad replied, “it’s just that they rarely survive for long.”

“Fair enough,” the Baroness smirked. “That’s not a bad thing to know, either. Now…we still need to start somewhere. Take up the stance that you used while defending the palace.”

Emmad took his spear in both hands and lowered his centre of gravity. He braced the polearm for a solid thrust.

“Hmm…”

“Is something wrong?” He asked.

“The spears that your army uses are longer, aren’t they?”

His eyes went from the spearblade to his leading hand.

“Yes,” he replied. “They’re three metres long. The blade of this spear is also very long and wide compared to ours – it’s almost like a sword.”

“That would explain why your stance felt off. Go through a few drills, anyway.”

The only ‘drill’ he knew was ‘stab as hard as you can, dammit’. It was more than a bit embarrassing doing just that with Lady Zahradnik watching so closely. After ten thrusts, he stopped, his breathing slightly laboured.

“What else did Captain Scavo teach Your Excellency?”

“That’s all.”

“It seems that his instruction is not far off from the army’s.”

“Is that bad?”

“Rather than good or bad,” Lady Zahradnik said, “it tells me much about how your people fight. Although your military operations are entirely defensive, your approach to combat is offensive. Fundamentally, the spearmanship is identical to Baharuth’s Imperial Army.”

The Baroness’ glaive appeared in hand, and she worked it through a series of enviously graceful drill sequences.

“A good polearm barely needs any effort on the part of the wielder to damage a lightly-armoured target. Light attacks like these are more than enough to knock people out, sever arteries or even cut off limbs. The only time one needs to thrust as hard as you did is when fighting a heavily armoured or tough opponent.”

She ended her drill with a solid thrust that split the grass several metres in front of her.

“In the case of the Imperial Army, they have several species of large Demihumans to deal with, plus they must contend with Re-Estize’s Knights, who count as heavily-armoured targets. In the case of the Draconic Kingdom’s Royal Army, you have to deal with physically superior Beastmen. Beyond that, however, your two styles have diverged very close to the root. In a word, the Draconic Kingdom’s school of spearmanship is suicidal.”

“Suicidal?” Emmad looked down at his weapon.

“All combat schools employ a certain balance between offence and defence,” Lady Zahradnik told him. “My house’s combat school is highly defensive: it was developed for skirmishing and flexible formation fighting. The Imperial school is highly offensive, seeking to eliminate threats to a rigid formation before too many casualties are taken and the formation breaks. The Draconic Kingdom’s style is all offence. The only beings I know of that fight as the Draconic Kingdom’s soldiers do are the Undead. More precisely, the soldiers of the Draconic Kingdom are trained to be as offensively devastating as possible because death is nearly guaranteed anyway.”

He let out a sigh. Even a novice like himself understood what she said to be true.

“What else could we do?”

“It’s not a criticism,” the Baroness said. “On the contrary, Your Excellency, I believe that it was the optimal course of action in your circumstances. Many people might disagree with that assessment, but decisively achieving something on the battlefield is better than ineffectually struggling one’s way into a useless death. Now that you’re no longer in a life-or-death situation, however, you can afford to refine what you have. The Beastmen are still your only major opponent, after all. But first…”

Baroness Zahradnik looked to the side, where the three who had accompanied them were watching.

“Olga.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Put His Excellency on the ground.”

Huh?

The willowy girl darted forward with startling speed. Emmad found himself launched through the air. He tumbled over the grass until coming to a stop against the roots of a Rain Fruit tree.

What…

Olga was tall for a girl of her age, but she was still probably only half of his weight. From the ground, he stared at her in utter confusion.

“Commanders are not front-line combatants,” Lady Zahradnik said, “but they still have the same raw power as an equally seasoned warrior. Captain-types have that same raw power, and they far exceed Commander-types in martial skill. You, on the other hand, are little better than the average Farmer in terms of raw power and martial skill.”

The mirror-like blade of Baroness Zahradnik’s glaive appeared near his face. She tilted it slightly, holding his gaze through the reflection.

“Her Majesty requested that I take good care of Your Excellency,” the Baroness’ smile did not reach her eyes. “And so I shall.”