〈 Episode 57 〉The East Targets the West 3

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I slowly replayed my thoughts. Sergen didn't say anything, perhaps out of consideration for my sudden silence... and I slowly hypothesized about Million, and why he would do such a thing.

'I wonder if it's because he's just a kid...'

I don't think so. Otherwise...a long time ago...Noelle, where the hell did she meet me would be a good place to start.

"Sophia, and Noelle.

Faces appearing and disappearing like white smoke. Million began to slowly sink into the abyss...and why, if I had to ask. It was as if I had been injected with a high concentration of mana and was seeing my true self.

"Ah.

A deep sigh escapes me. I also wonder what Million is planning to do with me now.

[The leather bag of Salamander's breath.]

I wonder what would have happened if I'd cut it, and if Million would still have tried to kill me, after all, he's the one who's devoting all his energy to reviving the Earl of Deckard in the East.

"It's like a puppet show.

Moving puppets made of small pieces of wood. Ellie, Sophia, Jeffers, Noel, even me, were nothing more than moving puppets in his clothes.

"Yeah.

I slowly clasped my hands together in thought.

"Sergen..."

I ask her slowly.

"Why is that?"

"Are you familiar with Deckard?"

She was silent for a moment, as if considering why I had asked her that question.

"Are you asking about the past?"

That seemed to be roughly correct.

"Mainly, about Million."

She slowly opened her thin lips to explain, as if she could fill in the blanks of my curiosity.

"A long time ago...I'll tell you from Sirtus's point of view. There were two factions in the Empire. It created the current East and West positions."

"Tadak!

The fire sparked once, briefly cutting through the chill of the night.

"Then there was Samuel Deckard, the war hero who created the land that is now the Empire, and...my grandfather, Pommel Sirtus, and they were always rivals."

"...."

"My grandfather once told me that Samuel Deckard's strength was overwhelming...but it was the strength of his chamberlain, Million, that earned him the title of the Empire's mightiest sword. That's why he told me to always keep talented people around me. He said you can't do anything alone."

She repeated the last part as if to remind herself of the words.

"Million was a man whose birthplace and upbringing were unknown, and from the way he fought, you'd think he came from a hermitage or slum like yours. He was not a knight...he lived his life as a chamberlain."

I pause to consider his past. He imagines what a young Million might have looked like.

"He was a man with a personal army of beings he called his 'hounds,' and when he retired from the battlefield at the same time as Samuel Deckard, the hounds disappeared, but rumor has it that they move in the shadows."

Serghen pulled out a log and tossed it into the fire.

"They are much stronger than they are known to be...glacial, if you will."

"You mean a glacier?"

"They say the far eastern lands are full of great ice, and they call them glaciers, and they say they are much fuller below than we see above."

"...."

"A man who would live in the shadow of Samuel Deckard...that's what he is. He seems to have lived as a butler since Samuel Deckard's death...which, given the bandits and the hermitages in Sirtus, is hardly the kind of butler one would expect."

She nods.

"Did he have a family?"

"...He lost his wife and young son in the old war, and it is said that he has not had a family since."

There is no reason to sympathize with the enemy. His past history, however, seemed to breed a certain humility.

"All for Deckard's sake, yes. To be honest, given his history, I'd say he's the most enviable person I know. That kind of loyalty."

"Loyalty isn't all it's cracked up to be. It can destroy a group."

"What do you mean?"

Noel and I, Sergen unaware.

"All I can say is that they will...do whatever it takes."

"You certainly don't seem to be masking your means, given the way you're using the bandits to get me."

She understood that this was all a ploy by the Millions to lure her in.

"Then the current king will be Sergen.

So I kept her off the battlefield as much as possible. I might be... just one of her pawns now.

'It's like a million years in the past.

Millian, a hermitage with a long and storied history of fighting for Samuel Deckard. Like his past, I fight in the present, defending Cercen. And I wonder what he would think of it.

"Our time of uninterrupted sleep is coming to an end."

In the distance, two soldiers approached, stretching as if they'd finally gotten some rest.

"I see."

I wanted to ask more questions, but rest was more important. Exhausted, I crawl into my blanket and try to get some sleep.

.

"The hermitage push has been a failure, and we've lost 40% of the hermitages currently deployed against the bandits."

"I see."

"Given the potential for information to leak out, the damage it could cause...I'll try to eliminate it beforehand."

He said he would kill everyone associated with the hermitages. A report that would decide the fate of the families of the hostages.

"Please take your time."

"Yes..."

"Do you have anything to say?"

Millian, who had been reading slowly, asked the servant who approached.

"You look unusually well, I was wondering if..."

The servant, who had served Million for many years, could tell that his expression was not angry now.

"Is this operation expendable, laying the groundwork for another?"

"You might think so, but alas, no. This operation is just an infiltration operation where we literally lost more than we gained."

"I'm sorry!"

The servant immediately bowed his head.

"I ordered it, and you have no reason to apologize."

I wonder why the hell Million doesn't look offended.

"Tap!

Slowly, the black sculpture of a young boy is thrust forward.

"Salamander..."

"What?"

"No. How are the hounds doing?"

"They are currently in the vicinity of the bandits, awaiting orders."

"I see."

Snapping his fingers, he slowly pushed the new dog-faced sculptures forward.

"Have the hounds go in on the next guerrilla. They need to blend in among the bandits."

"They say they've already blended in."

"That's good, my predecessor must have taught them well."

"But..."

"You tell me."

"There are...reports...that their personalities are too multifaceted."

Millian spat out a laugh, unable to contain it for a moment.

"Is that a problem?"

"Nothing, I'm just thinking about old times."

He gets up from his leather couch and looks at the sky as if it's been a long time-or, more accurately, as if he's glad to see you.

"Why...I thought it was a terrible curse then, but I miss it now."

"What?"

The servant hasn't seen war before; he's just the one who moves best and does what he's told. He had the honesty to ask questions as a servant, which had allowed him to stand by Million's side for so many years.

"Lord Noel will be pleased."

The best plan Tyr had ever thought of. As if he had already anticipated the ploy to catch Noel and himself off guard when they met, Millian slowly turned to her.

"I hope this gift is to your liking, young lady."

"....."

What on earth was Million seeing, and what did she know, the servant wondered.

.

"Look closely. I have a knife in my hand."

A woman showing a very small knife to a bandit, who stares at it in disbelief.

"How about if you hit me with this one, I'll forgive you for being so cocky just now?"

"Please...please...forgive me."

"I'll forgive you, if you guess right."

Her hands balled into fists. With all the strength he can muster, the bandit squints and looks at both hands. Lightly, from right hand to left hand, from left hand to right hand...and then she clenches both fists and holds them out in front of him.

"Now, left or right?"

"....."

The bandit points to the left with a rattling finger. His eyes are filled with a desperate search for hope.

"Ding, ding, alas, neither!"

She giggled and grabbed his right wrist.

"There you are."

A small dagger was suddenly in his hand. Slowly twirling it in her hand, she whispers in the bandit's ear.

"Poor thing. Good luck in your next life."

Slowly, as if savoring the pain, the dagger plunges into his breastbone.

"Turn it off..."

The hulking bandit lay still and dying, helpless against the small woman's strength.

"Make it quick and get out. We don't want too many bandits dying."

"Aren't they meat shields anyway? What's a few deaths?"

"If we run out of shields, we'll have to fight with swords."

The masked man flicked his own machete at her, and spoke to her.

"There's no fun here. I liked it in Deckard, with the occasional brawl, but this place is full of boring bandits."

She flashes her necklace of rings as if to show off.

"You still haven't given up your hobby of collecting rings from engaged people?"

"Why would I give it up? It's fun to bet on them when they're begging, "Please don't kill my fiancé," because they're betting on their partner's life, not their own."

"It seems like a very humanly problematic hobby."

"But what about you, you're the one who kills everyone who steps foot in your territory because you've got something good stashed away, and it's a boring knife."

"I'm just trying not to have unnecessary hobbies."

"What are the other kids doing?"

"Playing with bandits like you, or blending in. I'm out of orders, so let's get back to work."

She ran her fingers through her semi-curly brown hair, kicked a bandit who had fallen beside her once, and rose to her feet.

"Ah, how many of us are going to be scrapped after this operation?"

"I'm guessing you'll be at the top of the list, at least with this useless hobby of yours."

"Or you, with all your kinks."

You walk over to the group of cowering bandits and call out.

"Anyway, you heard the story, Tir, about that bitch Serghen and this operation. If you capture or kill that little bastard, you're all free. But if you don't, you're all dead, and you'd better move fast if you don't want to become orc food."

"Good luck, because if we fail, we're doomed to be discarded. If you don't want to die, I'll have to hunt you all down and tear you apart. If you want to be monster food in the Great Forest of Hammel, or if you want to go to Deckard or Sirtus and play with me, run hard."

"If you want to run away, you can run away. But if you try to run away like that dead bandit over there, I'll catch you and kill you. I won't make a long story short. I want you all to die for Deckard."

The man with the machete took a long look at them. The fear and despair on their faces gave him hope.

"They are only children, a girl and a boy. It's not an order to kill all the knights, just to run and kill them and be done with it."

Slowly they point to a large signboard with a map of the neighborhood.

"Run, run, run, and fight with all your might. You never know when your surroundings will turn on you if you don't maximize your kill count."

The mind-altered bandits nodded in unison, already too frightened to run.

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