Chương 61: Chapter 59 - Consolidation

It was dawn, the sun's rays gently illuminating the scene of carnage. Bodies, broken barricades and tents were everywhere. Though the night's events left a sour taste in my mouth, they were an objective success. The enemy's casualties numbered in the thousands, while mine were scarcely a few hundred, with most of those being the levies. I walked through the battlefield as my men piled the bodies and dealt with the mortally wounded of the enemy.

"Aevinne," I spoke, not turning my head to watch the elf, "You, Edwyn and Habata did very well."

"I only regret that she escaped," the elf responded, and I hummed. The enemy sorceress was impressive, but her focus on a singular spell was slightly puzzling. It was possible that she was some idiot savant, or simply lacked access to proper schooling, forcing her to master Gaeth or some similarly simple wind manipulation spell to an absurd degree. However, any such conclusions would be premature. It was just as likely that she had simply been overconfident in her strategy.

I couldn't even say her confidence was misplaced - after all, she had almost succeeded. Next time would be different. While the night attack hadn't been a mistake, the lack of light had very much favoured the enemy sorceress in our fight. During the day, the sky did not offer many hiding places. I tilted my head in consideration. Perhaps she was sandbagging. I did not know for sure why she had seemed to be in perfect health during our clash.

The giant illusion offered one explanation, but she was clearly someone adept enough at deception. Which brought me to the question of the illusionist, of whom I had seen neither hide or hair right until the enemy had begun retreating in earnest. The worst part was the undeniable truth - I had grown too soft. I had fallen for a comforting lie. In reality, I should have known better than to assume that a Court Sorceress could live a safe and peaceful life in the rear.

Especially with Being X lurking around, but even without his involvement... a sorceress was too potent a power to be left doing deskwork during a war. This had been true in my previous life, and it seemed it held true even now. I had just fallen for the lies people told themselves in peacetime, and almost paid the ultimate price. In this life, I had no Type 95 to use in emergencies, nor did I have a battalion of ace battle-maniacs to put between myself and the enemy. The army didn't really count.

They might be able to deal with a sorcerer or two, but not without sustaining catastrophic losses. There wasn't a choice there, really. Either I stepped in, or we'd be decimated. Yet, a mere three sorcerers had stopped me. The Devil of the Rhine stymied by three nobodies. What a joke. After this, I would focus both on my personal power, as well as on acquiring proper meatshields - subordinates. Monck's daughter was the perfect start. Perhaps the hedge-witch assassin, if luck was on my side.

Still, that was for the future. In the present, Alzur's Double Cross remained one of my most potent tools, and I was fairly confident in turning Monck into something useful. His cognition would probably be impaired, but I was tired of being caught unaware. Having a hidden card for next time might very well mean the difference between life and death. Unfortunately for the former assassin, he would become that card.

I couldn't do that now, with the enemy so near, but his time would come the moment the Nazairi were gone. Now, it was time to rebuild the walls as well as was possible, rest, and pursue. The War Hounds had proven themselves. If I managed to dispatch, or at least stalemate, the remaining sorcerers, the Nazairi would certainly break. I might not have been the ace of aces I used to be, but this was still well within my ability.

Even if killing or capturing all the Nazairi was likely going to be impossible with my numbers, their army would be gone. There was no way they could reform it quickly, if they'd manage at all. With most of their ballistae destroyed, they didn't have a real defence against the giant monsters. Waiting on reinforcements from Cintra would very likely not be worth whatever countermeasures the Nazairi might figure out in the meantime. Even if it was just getting more ballistae.

And, of course, I didn't want to make the Queen think I couldn't protect Marnadal on my own. Ortagor drove his lance into another of those creepy, grey-skinned creatures. Or so he labelled them in his mind, instead of what they really were. People. The sorceress had not said so, but the Baron was capable of putting two and two together. He pulled out his lance while the creature struggled weakly.

Ortagor's horse barely reacted, somehow already used to the insanity, while he mulled over the unpleasant answer to one his questions. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work. Degurechaff had not been executing prisoners. She had been transforming them. A shiver went down his spine as those cold blue eyes appeared in his mind. Then, when the enemy had come, she had unleashed her army of monsters. Unfortunately, not all of them had been within the enemy camp.

Which is why he and most of the other knights were combing the area, finishing any stragglers they found. To organised heavy cavalry, they were not too big a threat, especially as most of the monsters were either fairly lethargic or confused. Most looked starved, while their grey skin did not help them hide much in the daylight. There was some silver lining, he supposed. At least Degurechaff couldn't see the future. Otherwise, she would've arranged her monsters better.

However, that didn't stop the words she had uttered when he had asked her if she would help kill these creatures from echoing in his mind.

"No, a deal is a deal." Suddenly, he spotted a golden plume, the rider surrounded by a group of royal guards. Ortagor sighed mentally. He had long given up on the notion that he might find a kindred spirit in the King. Roegnar had clearly fully bought into Degurechaff's madness.

"Dalibor!" He shouted from a distance, "You got another! Magnificent!"

"Yes, Your Majesty," the Baron nodded from the saddle.

"Tell me, Dalibor," his horse sidled up to Ortagor's, "Which is better? Roegnar, the Giant Slayer. Or Roegnar, the Titan Slayer." Ortagor suppressed a sigh. Of course that was what the King was concerned about. Severin Mordain watched the two sorcerers with a face full of disdain, "Explain yourself," he demanded. The three stood in his spare tent, surrounded by the King's elite guards. Or what was left of them.

Gauthier glanced at Ironveil, causing the King's eye to twitch, before the exile spoke up, "The plan had almost worked, Your Majesty, despite the surprise attack." Severin blinked, "You call that a plan? Why did you wait to attack? Most of our ballistae ended up FUCKED!" The sorcerer leaned back, his face astonished, as if this was the first time someone had yelled at him in his life.

"How d-," Gauthier began, then paused, holding his tongue, "Since she slew the legendary Wenceslaus, it is obvious that Degurechaff is a sorceress of titanic power, Your Majesty. To engage such a person carelessly would spell our doom, and your own." The King's eyes flicked towards Ironveil, "And, pray tell, what incredible insights did waiting while my people died and our best tools against the beasts were dismantled yield?"

This was already a disaster, but the way these two imbeciles tried to worm their way out of responsibility enraged him.

"Er," Gauthier's eyes flicked towards his compatriot.

"We kept her in check," Ironveil's voice broke the tension as all eyes turned to the masked sorceress.

"I will forgive you this once, as you are a foreigner and clearly unfamiliar with some of our customs," The King stared at them as one might at shit stuck on their boot, "Now, explain properly."

"One of our own died, Your Majesty. We did our best!" Gauthier replied indignantly.

"I do not care one whit for your peasant friends, Gauthier. Your role was to deal with the sorceress and any monsters my regular troops couldn't deal with. You not only failed, but you also made sure that dealing with those beasts became near impossible." Fully impossible, without the continued help of the sorcerers. And while Gauthier was putting on a convincing show, Severin's suspicions were not quite allayed.

"That is not-," Gauthier began.

"SILENCE!" The King shouted, "With you two barely able to keep up with Degurechaff together, the ballistae were absolutely essential. AND. YOU. JUST. STOOD. BY." The exile winced as the King screamed, spit flying from his mouth.

"What do you think we should do if they decide to pursue? Offer some of our soldiers as chewing toys? Throw a really big stick and ask those hell beasts to fetch?"

"We will need to rethink our strategy against the monsters," Ironveil cut in, her voice almost bored. Severin turned his blazing eyes towards her, before his face softened, "That is so."

"I can do it," Ironveil continued.

"Oh? You can, or do you think you can?"

"The former. Your Majesty just needs to supply me with a few disposable people. I hear quite a few of the deserters were caught. Those will do." Severin frowned. The punishment for desertion was death, as was proper, but he still had standards. He couldn't, in good conscience, hand those men over without at least knowing what the witch intended. He'd have to ask her to elaborate, at least.

The King stared at her iron mask for a few seconds before speaking, but the questions slipped from his mind before he could form them.

"Agreed," he replied.

"Lady Degurechaff," an elf I did not recognise approached me, though he exchanged a nod with Aevinne. I was working on repairing the outer wall. Not all of it had been demolished, just a large enough part to march the army through, but repairing it properly would take time. After all, it wasn't just compacted earth, even if that formed its core. However, remaking that core was well within my means, especially after having done so once before already. The math was simple.

I did not expect that the enemy would try to assault our position anytime soon, but it paid to be prepared.

"What is it?" I asked the elf.

"The prisoner, the witch, tried to kill herself." I frowned, "What?"

"It happened during the battle. The guards noticed and managed to stop her, though one was bitten. They say the witch acted… deranged." I tsked. Another complication. It only confirmed that there was something deeply wrong with the woman's mind. Slowly, I smiled. In the end, any weakness was a lever in the right hands. It just so happened that I was on great terms with one of the best experts on mind magic in the North.