To be saved by someone you didn’t even know the name of, or to be killed by someone you didn’t know the name of; is that what war is?
“Don’t kid me! How can I accept such a thing! Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn!”
Saito cried. To yell and scream like this was meaningless; he knew that, but he couldn’t bear to not yell out.
The Zero Fighter, flying at a reading close to 450 kilometers an hour from the speedometer, flew forwards.
Despite being in the violently shaking craft, Saito was trembling all over for another reason.
After shaking off the enemy, how long they flew for, they didn’t know.
After what seemed like an eternity, a port appeared over the horizon before their eyes. On the open expanses of a mountain, on which stood numerous steel spires used to anchor the ships floating in the skies… several things that resembled a docking bay could be seen.
“That’s the port of Dartanes…”
“Go up.”
Louise said softly into Saito’s ear.
Saito raised the Zero Fighter towards the sky.
In the wake of the speed boost, the Zero Fighter slowly lost speed.
Once they had reached a suitable height, Louise stood up, and opened the cockpit.
Gusts of wind blew in.
Louise sat atop Saito’s shoulders and began chanting the spell. The Founder’s Prayer Book she held in her hands began glowing. The most fundamental of magics.
“Illusion” – One had to imagine with their full concentration in their minds the image they wished to conjure.
In this way, the caster could replicate even the sky itself. The chant Louise was using was the Void spell that could conjure up illusions. The Zero Fighter slowly circled the sky over Dartanes.
The boundless clouds were seemingly wiped away from the sky, an illusion forming in its stead.
It was a huge fleet of battleships… a fleet supposed to be hundreds of miles away; a mirror image of the Tristain invasion fleet.
Having such a large fleet suddenly appear in the skies above Dartanes had a huge impact; the sight of it shocked everyone who saw it.
“What! Dartanes?!” Exclaimed General Hawkings, upon receiving the urgent report from Dartanes. He was heading the thirty-thousand strong Albion army in the direction of Rosais. According to his predictions, the landing point of the Tristain army would be there. And yet, the place where the enemy had suddenly appeared, was to the north of the capital Londinium – Dartanes. “Turn the army around!”
It would take some time before the order propagated through the entire army. I wish we could begin marching quickly... Hawkings thought as he turned to look towards the sky.
The sky was a canopy of pure blue, completely devoid of any clouds, a far cry from the chaotic war that raged on the ground below.
He had a feeling that this war would become a muddled one...
Chapter Eight: The Atonement of Flame
Early morning, four o'clock. The sun had not risen yet, the sky was dark.
In the sky above the Academy of Magic one small war frigate appeared.
Menvil stood on the deck, watching the sky right ahead. Wardes, with inaudible steps, approached Menvil from behind.
The wind’s square indicated by itself that it was the same sky.
Wardes came out to test Menvil.
Can this man lead such a difficult plan to success? He had his doubts.
However, Wardes's doubts seemed to be unfounded.
Not taking his eyes from the sign, Menvil called Wardes out of distance,
“So what trial is it now, Viscount?”
Wardes was surprised.
Menvil did not even turn around.
Even if you did turn around – it’s just too dark. One couldn’t even make out an approaching silhouette.
Yet… what kind of skills did he use to notice Wardes approach from such a long distance?
“Now then, we're almost there.”
Menvil muttered without turning around. Wardes, while feeling admiration, carefully approached Menvil.
“We're lucky. Oh dear, as an attacking side, we should not let them know from which side they will be attacked.”
They managed to avoid mage's familiars that were patrolling in the air… it was fortuitous that they managed to get this far without being spotted.
“In order to express our gratitude, when you return to Albion, please let me treat you to something, Viscount.”
“Don’t think too much about it, think about surviving first,” Wardes said. Menvil suddenly pulled out a cane and pointed it at the scruff of Wardes's neck.
“Watch your mouth youngster. Or do you want to turn to ashes right here and now?”
Wardes expressionlessly watched Menvil.
“I’m joking, Viscount. Don’t stare like that.”
Laughing, Menvil jumped from the deck into the air.
One after another, all other members, wrapped up in black cloths, followed Menvil.
A lot of people disappeared from the deck with a surprising swiftness.
Fouquet, who came up there, muttered in an unpleasant voice.
“Creepy guy. And scary.”
“But he has the skills needed. Can’t hope for more.”
“Is he more skilled than you?”
Fouquet laughed, asking Wardes a mischievous question.
“Maybe.”
The Musketeers Corps assigned two musketeer crew members to an artillery tower to watch over the cannon.
That was the greatest number of military troops that the army could allow to stand as sentinels.
Something moved under the moonlight.
The older member of the two squat down in silence, and unwrapped gun powder and bullets from small paper bags.
Another musketeer, following her partner’s movements, also loaded her musket with gunpowder.
And when she looked carefully… she saw something moving in the darkness.
But before she could open her mouth, both guards' throats were cut by Wind magic.
Two bodies were caught before hitting the ground. Not making any noise, Menvil laid the musketeers on the ground.
“Women. Still young. Shame.” One assassin informed Menvil with a smile.
“There is no place for old courtesy, men or women have to be treated the same.”
Menvil said, smiling rapaciously.
“Equally when death is given.”
“Only nobles’ children should not be killed. They must be taken as hostages.”
“Apart from them, I can kill everyone else?”
Menvil, while fiddling with his cane, muttered in a happy voice.
One member took out the map.
It was the map of the school drawn by Fouquet. It was covered with a special cloth that didn't leak out light, but slightly illuminated the map itself.
Looking at the corpses of the guards, one member muttered.
“Guards only armed with guns.”
“How many mages are there? Not counting the regular musketeers.”
The member who was studying the map informed Menvil.
“Commander, there are three targets. This tower, the dormitory tower and the tower nearside.”
Menvil handed down the orders quickly.
“I’ll take the dormitory tower. Jean, Ludwig, Germain, Attas – you four together with Giovanni take this tower. Celestin and the rest take the last one.”
The mages nodded.
Tabitha woke up.
There were strange sounds coming from the courtyard.
After thinking for a moment, she decided to wake Kirche up after all. She went out of her room and headed to Kirche’s room downstairs. After she knocked against the door, Kirche, dressed only in a thin nightgown on her bare skin and still rubbing her eyes, appeared.
“You what… it’s too early… even the sun hasn’t started to rise yet.”