1

The morning of the third day arrived misty and damp, with pale, ashen clouds looming thick and low over the treetops. The formerly green slope had been trampled muddy by the men working on the palisade all day yesterday until dark. It would take a summer or two before grass would grow there again with prior verdancy. On this day, the dirty ground served as a matching pair for the foreboding skies.

The outpost's defenses were indeed more or less completed within the time frame given, and now an exemplary wall of tough wood surrounded the buildings from all sides, like a long row of sharpened teeth. It no doubt posed a formidable obstacle to any unlikely bandits, basilisks, wolves, perhaps even unicorns. A somewhat shallow but passable trench had also been dug. The Varnamians were now adding the finishing touches by patching up the few remaining holes in the wall and setting up sharpened sticks at the bottom of the trench.

Security had been attained, but not everyone could enjoy it to the fullest.

“There, say ‘aah’,” Izumi said, lifting a spoon.

“I can eat by myself!” Yuliana bashfully insisted.

“Now, now. Don't be difficult. It's hard by yourself, isn't it?”

In the little yard left between the cabins and the main entryway, two thick poles had been hammered deep into the earth, a distance away from one another. Large metal hoops had been attached into the poles and in those hoops, two prisoners had their hands bound tightly with chains.

There, starting from the second period on, or roughly six in the morning, they were to suffer their punishment for desertion, until otherwise stated. The princess of Langoria on the right, her brave knight on the left. By their sorry state, anyone entering the outpost could see for themselves the fruits of cowardice vividly illustrated.

Though prisoners escaping their captors couldn't exactly be compared to soldiers fleeing the front line, the two were treated as such nevertheless, perhaps as a sign that the Imperials had already considered them as their own. This observation wrung the princess's conscience only that much more painfully. She was certain she would go mad out of shame.

Still, as far as punishments went, theirs was a light one.

Because the two guards Brian had knocked out regained consciousness and their mild injuries were quickly treated, the escapees were shown mercy. Had the men been killed, Brian would've faced the penalty of death in kind. Yuliana had her royal status to shield her life in any event, but she still felt deeply grateful to her past self, for telling the man to show restraint.

Not that it made their present situation any less disgraceful.

“How could I forget about the gias...” Yuliana lamented. “I'm so stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid!”

Not that a girl her age could truly understand what such oaths meant in the first place—the princess couldn’t allow herself to hide behind such excuses.

“There, there,” Izumi said, crouching before the princess, a breakfast bowl in hand. “Your porridge is going cold.”

The chains were so short, that Yuliana had to keep her hands slightly raised while seated. She could've still eaten normally by herself if only she stood up close to the pole. Yet, for some strange reason, Izumi insisted on feeding her instead. Yuliana failed to appreciate the assistance, as she felt it only added to the humiliation.

The Imperials could have easily treated Izumi and Riswelze as the runaway princess's partners in crime and have them share the punishment, but the kitchen staff vouched for the innocence of their assistant. There was no way Izumi could have been plotting with anybody while busy stirring soup. The assassin's presence, on the other hand, was elusive enough to bring into question whether such a person was even present. Thus, neither had their freedom restrained. No one particularly cared whether they stayed or left in the first place. Rather, the two of them running away would've reduced the number of mouths to be fed.

“Why do you still bother with me?” Yuliana asked Izumi, dejected. “Don't you despise me? I did such a thing, yet...”

“Hm?” Izumi raised her brows. “You did something you shouldn't have?”

“I was about to leave you behind! Doesn't that make you angry? Don't you feel hurt and betrayed? We've been through so much together and I was going to turn my back on all that. I deserve no kindness! I thought I was doing it for the best of my kingdom, but...as I thought, it was too much...”

“Not really,” Izumi blankly answered. “I came here for the spring of youth, remember? I'm not going to leave before they find it or decide that it’s not real. I never said you have tag along, did I? Rather, I think running away was the right idea. I'd feel better knowing you're someplace safer too. I agree that how you went about it was a bit careless, but accidents happen.”

“Izumi...” Yuliana was moved by her friend’s magnanimity. “I don’t know what to say...”

“...Although, in hindsight, the idea of Yule secretly eloping with a hot stud does make me mysteriously angry and jealous. Then again, NTR can be exciting too, under the right circumstances! Yes, I'm almost enjoying my anger, ufufufu...”

“...Once again, I have no idea what you're talking about. And I told you, Brian and I are not in that sort of a relationship.”

“Yes, yes, that's what they all say. Now open wide.”

“Sorry, I'm not particularly hungry, so you don't have t—amph! Hn!”

“My, that won't do. Don't you know that breakfast is the most important meal of the day?”

“Wah, it's already gone cold! Disgustin—ahn!”

“Didn't your mom ever tell you not to be a picky eater. Here. The train comes, choo-choo!”

“You—you're totally upset with me, aren't you!? Have mercy! I'm sorry! Om—!”

Rather than an act of kindness, the breakfast was probably more accurately labeled as a form of torture.

“It sure got quiet around here,” Izumi noted, pausing to listen.

“Yes...”

At daybreak, by the Vizier's decree, three lightly equipped scout groups with twelve knights each had been dispatched in search of the miraculous spring. This meant that the outpost's fighting strength was effectively reduced to a third of the original.

Of the remaining, two were stationed at the front gate. Two at the side exit. Two at the door of the cottage. And three on the watchtowers raised a few feet above the palisade, one per each. One more pair patrolled the grounds outside. The rest were in the kitchen squad, worked with the woodcutters on improving the palisade, or just rested while waiting for their shift.

There was no question that any enemy trying to approach the stronghold would be easily detected.

The main issue was, were there enough defenders to actually repel such an enemy as well?

People needed to come and go all the time, so the front entrance remained open and unbarred. Yuliana couldn't avoid feeling unnervingly vulnerable in her position. Like a sacrificial maiden left for a dragon to come pick up.

“What will you do if they find the spring?” she tried to forget her fears and asked Izumi.

“Me? Get a cup, of course.”

“Think they will let you? It's eternal youth we're talking about. Men have gone mad over less than that. And the Emperor is not known for sharing things.”

“Well, I'm not about to ask for their permission,” Izumi told her.

“So you'll fight?” Yuliana asked. “Everybody here? The whole company?”

“If it comes to that, I guess?”

“...You really have not a worry in the world, do you?”

“You get wrinkles if you worry too much,” Izumi said. “I can't afford to worry any more, until I get a sip.”

“Is it that important to you, being young? Something to kill and die for?”

“Isn't it to anyone?” the woman shrugged. “In my world, people are pretty obsessed with the whole age thing. No one wants to end up looking like a raisin, lonely, weak, helpless and demented, suffering for years before slowly forgetting even their own name. Who'd want to go through that?”

“I always thought it was a thing to strive for,” Yuliana said. “I mean, growing old, surrounded by your family, your children, your children's children, and even their children. Seeing your legacy carry on in them into the distant future, the way you received it from your parents when it was your time. Wouldn't you call that a form of immortality of its own?”

“I never got that philosophy,” Izumi replied. “What is my legacy, really? I have no children and don’t plan on getting any either. The only things my parents left me with were shame and anger. I don’t want to remember them any more than they want to remember me. Yes, all that’s here now is me. Once I die, there’ll be nothing at all. Looking back on my life, thinking, ‘that’s it, that was all I ever did’—it freaks me out. What exactly did I do? No, there's still hope for me. There has to be more for me! I still have a future! My greatest dream came true, I can't give up now! I've made it into another world, I'm sure I can achieve great things that are worth being remembered. I only need more time!”

“Why do you feel the need to achieve something?” Yuliana asked. “Aren't you fine just the way you are? A person like you existed, you were here—isn’t that a plenty precious thing on its own? Whatever you do or don't won't change that.”

“It's because you're still young that you can say that.”

“I don't think that's...”

“Of course, it is. I was a naturalist too, once. When I was your age. I didn't spare any thought to what a pain growing old would be, until I one day realized I wasn't young anymore. It happened too suddenly. One morning, I just realized I couldn't get fired up about anything anymore. The passionate flame in me had boiled down to something lukewarm. That magical, 'I feel like I could do anything if only I tried'-feeling that young people have—I didn't have it in me anymore. Instead, it turned into, 'it's such a bother to try harder, I'll just do the bare minimum to get by'. When I was your age, I ran five miles every morning. Now I get out of breath in the stairs before the fourth floor. I gotta wake up for the toilet at three every morning. And it only keeps getting worse. This isn't funny. What about this is precious? Inside of me is still a girl who wants to be a real hero! I can’t be content with being ‘just me who grows old and dies the same as anybody else’! Who would!”

“You're not that old...At thirty-eight...I think.”

“Time doesn't show mercy. The older you get, the faster the years seem to fly by. Soon I’ll be forty. Then fifty. Then sixty. Seventy. No, there's no way I’m even going to live that long in this world.”

“You don't even look old to me!”

“I do. You can tell the age by the hands. See? You can use cosmetics to make your face look all smooth and nice. But it will always show on the hands. Look how bony, veiny, and wrinkly they are! My fingers are dry and numb because the circulation is so poor. All bones. They're like the hands of a skeleton, a zombie! Who would want to be touched or held by cold hands like these? I can't stand it.”

The woman squeezed her fists close with a look of disgust.

“Izumi...”

“You're so beautiful, Yule,” Izumi told the girl with a distant smile. “I adore you. And I envy you. Picturing myself standing next to you makes me feel sick. It's unpleasant, isn't it? Saying we're friends is just silly. We have nothing in common, as we are. It's a bad joke that we ever met.”

“Don't say that…!” Yuliana berated the woman. “What's gotten into you!”

Izumi stood up and looked down at the princess, her expression as clouded as the skies above.

“I'm going to become young again. No matter what. I still want to go on many more adventures with you. So I will fix things here. In this world, no matter how absurd a miracle, it can happen. If not...then my story will end here.”

“...What do you mean?”

Without answering, Izumi turned away and left walking uphill.

“It bothered you so much…?” Yuliana bitterly said and hid her face behind her knees. “I really thought you were fine just the way you are…!”

2

Izumi went to wash her face at the well. She had said more to Yuliana than she ever meant to, but there was no taking back what was done. Splashing her face with the chilly water, she drew a deep breath, slapped her cheeks, and tried to psyche herself up again for another day.

I’m being weirdly emotional. Is it the forest, or is there something wrong…?

—“Now I've got it!”

A cheerful voice suddenly spoke up behind Izumi. She turned around and saw Riswelze standing a short distance away, striking a triumphant pose.

“Rise? What's up?” Izumi asked.

“Runes,” the girl replied.

“Ehh…? Runes?”

“Yes. I've been thinking about it and since you can't do conventional magic, I'm going to teach you runes!” Riswelze explained while walking closer. “Remember what we talked about spells? Language and potential. Well, the thing is, runes conveniently happen to be both the language and the potential in the same package. So you should be able to use them the same as anybody else, even without any personal ability.”

“Wow, really?” Izumi immediately forgot about her worries.

“Yes. It's really simple. Come here.”

Riswelze had a little stick she'd picked up from somewhere and with it in hand, she now crouched, drawing in the muddy ground, while Izumi watched.

“Runes are the ancient language in written form,” the girl explained. “It's a writing system given to people by the Gods themselves, tens of thousands of years ago. Nowadays, much of the old alphabet has been lost. Even though the language itself is still known, elves, humans, cruleans, all have devised their own writing systems, so not many original runes are known. And those who do know them tend to keep them to themselves. But I'll teach you what I know. To evoke a rune, all you need to do is draw the letter—it doesn't even have to be visible—speak its name, and...magic happens.”

“Ooh! Sure is handy!” Izumi commented.

“The only tricky part is, the same with spells and incantations, that you still have to learn the name and the meaning of the rune first. But once you memorize those, you're good to go.”

“Well, it shouldn't be a problem. I always got good grades at kanji quizzes!”

“What hisses?”

“Never mind.”

“Anyway. Look here. This is Brandt, the Rune of Ignition.” Riswelze pointed at the letter she'd drawn in the dirt. “In the old tongue, the word means 'a sparkle of light'. It sets on fire whatever it's written on. See, I crossed over that line there. If I hadn't, the mud would've started burning there when I spoke the word. You always have to be careful with these.”

“Yes, mom,” Izumi nodded. “Brandt...Where have I heard that before? Ah, yes, now that I think about it, Ai-chan's God had a similar name, didn't he? Is that just a coincidence?”

“Ah, a good point. It's not a coincidence. In the past, Brann was the God of Light. His name itself is synonymous with 'light'. Additionally, there's a common convention of naming the royal children in the old tongue. The ruling family of Langoria, for example, is named 'Brannan', which basically means, 'Brann's own'. You can also read that as, 'children of light'. They consider themselves the light god's chosen people, see?”

“But the Imperials said Brann didn't make people...”

“Yes, well, according to the lore, Brann created goti, not humans, that’s true. But whatever. Every noble out there insists that this or that deity is on his side, nothing new about that. It’s just a way of saying that you’re more righteous than everybody else. Nobody actually cares about what the dusty old books say. Let's get on with the lesson.”

“Then, this rune, it makes fire. Is it the same that's on those arrows?”

The Imperial daemon-slaying arrows were capable of setting anything they touched in flames. Neither of the women had forgotten the eerie demonstration from two days back.

But Riswelze shook her head.

“No. I took a closer look at them and the rune written on the arrowheads is different. I believe they called it, ‘the Rune of Immolation’. I don't know that one or how to read it. I also don't know how they work without the name being spoken, but I guess some nifty magic is at play there. I can only teach you what I know, so let's stick to the basics.”

“Okay,” Izumi obediently nodded.

“Brandt is pretty handy, you can use it to set up a campfire or create a distraction if you're in a bind. I have a piece of paper here, so try it out.”

“Let's see...”

Izumi copied the rune on the ground onto the paper with a piece of coal, sans the additional line. It turned out a bit crooked but still recognizable and the assassin approved it. Holding the paper up, Izumi drew breath and said,

“Do I really have to speak the magic word?”

“Yes, you do,” the girl told her.

“It’s embarrassing...”

“Get over it!”

“Ahem. Brandt.”

“….”

“Brandt. Brandbrandbrandbrandt.”

“….”

Nothing happened. The paper in Izumi’s fingers remained perfectly intact and cold. Waving it around, trying to pick up the scent of smoke, Izumi wrinkled her brow, unable to see what she did wrong.

“Why am I not surprised...Again,” she sighed.

“Let me see that!”

Riswelze tore the paper in two, wrote the rune on her half and repeated Izumi's gesture.

“Brandt.”

The paper immediately caught fire and burned to cinders in a matter of seconds.

“Like that.”

“That's what I did!” Izumi insisted.

“You did something wrong. Try again!”

“Ummm...”

Izumi wrote the rune anew and tried again. And again. And again.

Soon the paper was full of scribbles but remained untouched by fire.

“Did you really understand the meaning? Sparkle of light. Like, 'light springing into existence out of nothing'. Not just any kind of light, a tiny flame that is hot and burns, a primal fire. That's the meaning. Those were the words my master used.”

“Amen. I get it, but it's still not working. Your rune's busted.”

“No, you're misunderstanding something. Try again.”

——“You waste your time, young lady.”

The magic lesson became unexpectedly interrupted by a voice from behind the two. The women stood up and turned to see the old Imperial Court Wizard, Yornwhal, observing them a few paces away, while leaning on his staff. The man had a conflicted look on his face, which appeared to express that their magic class was senseless. Or else the student was. Either way. When had he appeared there, not even Riswelze could tell.

“What do you mean?” Izumi asked. “I don’t have the potential then?”

Not immediately answering, the man stepped closer and spoke,

“A long, long time ago, in Galanthea, men witnessed the peerless sorceries of emiri and goti, and became jealous and embittered. 'We are nothing', they whined. 'We are weak, we are sick, mortal, grow old, and die, and we know not magic either; what meaning is there to this torturous existence?' Their God, Hamaran, heard this and took pity on them. He called his followers together and taught them the power of magic to lighten their dark days. Magic became a source joy and pride to us humans. But it also made us greedy, prideful and arrogant, leading us astray time after time again, and drove a wedge between us and the other races. In time, Hamaran grew to regret indulging us, but he didn't take the gift away either. Young or old, weak or strong, the potential lies dormant in each and every one, to be discovered or let lie. Except in you.” He fixed the gaze of his blue eyes at Izumi. “You were never given that gift, being a woman from another world.”

“Eh?” Izumi was surprised. “How did you know?”

“Goodness, I am not that blind or stupid!” the wizard exclaimed. “Your looks are too strange. And watching this charade convinced me. Indeed, there is a man like you at the capital as well. He could never learn magic, not one spell. I suspect none of your kind has that ability. Because no matter how you look similar to us, you were not created by the same Gods. Or ‘human’, as we understand humanity.”

“Really?” The revelation made Izumi's pulse quicken. “There's another summoned person? Is he from the same world? What’s he like?”

“Why don't you come to Bhastifal and see for yourself?” Yornwhal replied. “He remains at the palace, as his majesty's guest. I’ve no doubt you’ll see him, eventually. Provided, of course, that any of us make it out of Felorn alive.”

“You doubt our chances then, old man?” Riswelze asked. “Nothing bad happened last night, did it?”

“That's what worries me,” the wizard lowered his tone. “It is too quiet. Have you ever been to a forest this silent before? There is something strange in the air. Something sinister. The men at the sick tent...they aren't getting any better. Their wounds are treated, they should be young men at the top of their form. Yet they remain by death's door. Tormented with nightmares, they twist and toss restlessly and awake with a high fever. After a little march in the woods? His majesty's elite? How many dangerous missions do you think they have survived before this day? My herbs and spells have little effect. It's not their flesh that drags them down.”

Yornwhal fell silent and walked on, leaving the two to digest his words for a moment, before stopping to continue,

“There is a strange pressure in the air. It probes our minds, and pushes us towards the edge, where our sanity slowly leaves us. No spirit I know does this. Sending most of the troops away could have been a sound decision. Whatever causes the mysterious ailment, it affects the idle the worst. The less there are here to endure it, the better.”

“Why tell us?” Riswelze asked. “Shouldn't you inform the big chiefs instead?”

“I have,” the wizard bitterly replied. “But I'm afraid our dear leaders are too absorbed in their respective obsessions to pay heed to the 'ramblings of an old man'. I worry for them, but what can I do? By my oath, I am also bound to his majesty's will. I will do what is asked of me, such is my lot. But you...when the time comes, stand by your princess. Do not leave her alone.”

Having shared his advice with the two, Yornwhal climbed up the cottage stairs and disappeared inside. Left staring at the wooden door where the yellow paint flaked, Izumi muttered,

“As I thought, growing old sucks.”

3

Compared to the hectic, work-laden day before, time now passed slowly and quietly in anticipation. In the afternoon, it started to drizzle. Everyone left behind at the outpost felt unvoiced gratitude for not being among those journeying in the wild in such a weather. The comfort of shelter didn't make the tedious wait for news any less anxious, however. Would the scouts return with the greatest discovery in human history—or would they return at all?

Which would be worse?

To help the captives, Izumi dragged out an iron-made fire pit she had found from the shed. In addition to the rain, the day was far from warm.

“It's a little small...Want me to find you another?” Izumi asked the knight.

“I'm good,” Brian responded, looking away from the flames. “Set it closer to her highness.”

“If you say so.”

Riswelze, who helped light the fire with her spell, had great difficulty containing her delight over the princess's current state.

“Oh my, your highness,” she sneered. “How's it hanging? Quite the change of roles, isn’t it! I'd help you, really, but my hands are tied...not!”

“Now I know I've hit the rock bottom,” Yuliana grimaced. “Being mocked by the one person in this world, whose rightful place should be here in my stead...”

“That's the circle of life for you. Isn't it iron-ic? No matter who we are or how good the cards dealt to us at birth, like an inescapable shackle, our fate comes to bind us...”

“Perhaps you should have become a bard instead of a manslayer? I see it suits you so much better.”

“Not at all. I only just got started, yet have no idea how to wrap this up. What a bind. Maybe you could lend me a hand? Oh, only if you're free, I'd hate to take up your time...”

“After what happened at the river, I was almost starting to think slightly better of you. How foolish of me. Some people are simply irredeemable, aren't they?”

“What a predictable reaction. I keep hearing it everywhere I go. You could almost call it...a chain react—”

—“Guess I'll go back to bed now,” Izumi said, brushing her wet hair. She hated the way it felt.

“Ah, me too,” the assassin stood up. “The only place I like being cuffed in is the bedroom.”

“I’m starting to get a little worried. Maybe sleep someplace else? No matter how old I am, I'm still innocent at heart.”

“I thought you wished to be an adventurer? I can show you adventure.”

The face the princess was making meanwhile startled passing knights.

The longer the uneventful day progressed, the more worried Yuliana grew over the fate of the scouting knights. What if the daemon was truly still out there and snatched the scouts while no one could know their fate? The monster aside, there were countless other natural hazards in Felorn that could swallow up such small groups without leaving a trace.

Fortunately, the Stohenkartes weren't quite as helpless as the princess’s impression of them.

A bit before sunset, a watchman blew his horn. The first of the squads returned. A line of tired and drenched men and horses flowed in through the entryway, not bothering to pay much any attention to the prisoners. One look at their dejected faces made the news clear: there weren't any.

Despite the maps and the explorers' undisputed ability to read them, they had failed to locate the spring, or anything similar. Of course, the forest was rather sizable and so was the search area. Expecting to hit the goldmine right on the first attempt was clearly too much asked. Everyone had been prepared for an extended search from the beginning.

Still, this didn't make the day's efforts any less wasted, and who in their right mind could have felt happy for it? The scouts had all made it back alive, but because they were alive, they could feel hunger, cold, fatigue, frustration, and disappointment.

Moreover, it was not an epic, thrilling adventure they had gone through. The squad had ridden for roughly twenty miles from the outpost, until the terrain got difficult enough to force them off their horses. They then marched another fifteen-mile loop on foot. As the oneiromancers and locals had predicted, a vast marsh wrapped around the target area, making progress there slow and cumbersome. The knights had circled around the worst places, enduring numerous mosquito bites, before concluding the search as fruitless and turning back.

Exactly how could one pinpoint the right spring in such watery and difficult land?

The mythical source of power was probably not marked by special signs, a heavenly light, or the ruins of a forgotten civilization. The men had sampled water from a number of clear-looking natural springs along the way, but no one felt any younger for it. Mostly on the contrary.

It seemed logical to assume that the Divine Lord wouldn't leave such an important place unguarded, but the knights hadn't encountered any hostiles either. Regular snakes looking for warm spots. Horseflies, blackflies, and regular flies, in addition to the aforementioned gnats. Lice. Some fist-sized arachnids and centipedes. Random lizards. A few wild deer, an elk, a handful of swans. Such were the only signs of life the explorers had witnessed on the entire day, and none of them were even particularly rare.

About an hour later, the second squad returned, with a report close to identical to the first. They had found no eternal youth either, only bug bites and sores. The camp grew more populated, but the depressed mood barely improved. No one felt like talking. Even though they knew what they were here for, more than a few questioned the meaning of their quest in their tired minds.

The evening dragged on, the sun set, and darkness descended upon the woods once more.

There was still no sign of the third team.

Bonfires were lit around the outpost, in and outside the walls, to make navigation easier for them.

Near midnight, the commander ordered the outer patrol to be called in and the front gate barred. The woodcutters had built a cheval de fris, a spiky cavalry obstacle, which they dragged to block the way. The side exit was already covered with wooden boards, made of spare planks from the shed. All signs suggested that the coming night was to be no less peaceful than the one before. But even though nothing threatening could be seen, a strange tension hung over the outpost uninterrupted, rendering everyone sleepless in spite of their fatigue.

Short of an hour later, a horn sounded over the outpost again.

At long last, the third and final scout team came back.

Their lateness was unfortunately not due to any encouraging discoveries. Not only had they found nothing worthy of note, they had suffered losses along the way. One horse got bitten by a non-basilisk but barely less poisonous snake, became unable to walk, and had to be put down. One knight sank into a seemingly bottomless swamp hole and couldn’t be retrieved. One developed a fever out of nowhere and was weakened to the point that he couldn't keep in the saddle. The others had to build stretchers to drag him out.

The first day's results were quite disheartening in total.

Nevertheless, the Emperor's earthly representative didn't even consider forfeiting, obviously. Visiting the knights, Attiker thanked them for their efforts and announced that the search would continue tomorrow, hopefully with better luck.

The squad leaders shuffled the teams, replacing the more exhausted knights with fresh troops from the outpost guard. Everyone diligently maintained their gear and horses, and went to sleep after a meal, to prepare for the second round against the silent but merciless woods tomorrow.

Called to assist with cooking again, Izumi stayed up late at the kitchen near the stables, rationing meat soup, peeling carrots and potatoes, cutting bread, and washing utensils, until finally released from service. She wasn't too pleased with her lot in life in those moments, but neither did she know how to say no. The deeply ingrained mentality to not be a burden on others and do her own part was in her culture.

“What kind of an adventure is this…?” Izumi mumbled for the hundredth time, looking at her fingers wrinkled by the dish water, then up to the pitch black sky, where airy mizzle kept coming down without a rest. “Why was I born a woman, anyway? Why am I not the one making big discoveries out there?”

As she walked, Izumi was startled by a sudden cry coming from the direction of the tents in south-east. A false alarm. It was only another soldier waking up from a nightmare. The troops at the watch towers remained still, staring at the trees in the distance, barely lit by the outpost's fires. Besides the occasional noise made by the campers, all was quiet.

Much too quiet, as the wizard had said.

“Guess I'll go check up on Yule before bed...”

The prisoners' uncomfortable punishment would only end once the commander so declared, and no hint of that was yet expressed. While they were allowed to take breaks to see to their basic needs, Yuliana and Brian remained in chains even through the night. The guards watching over the two kept the fire pit burning, so that they didn't need to freeze, though the fire was too modest to keep them dry too.

It wouldn't have been a punishment if it were pleasant.

“Isn't it enough already?” Izumi asked the guards. “At least let her sleep inside. I'll keep an eye on her. Word of honor.”

“No,” one of the knights replied outright.

“I'm afraid these are our orders, ma'am,” the other added.

“Yes, please don't trouble yourself with me,” Yuliana told Izumi. “I am not worthy of your concern. Ah, this is what I deserve. No, if we go by what I truly deserve, then it should be something much, much, much worse than this. So I have no complaints and neither do I require anything to ease this discomfort, thank you. Just leave me be.”

“Were you that kind of a character…?” Izumi frowned at the princess. “It’s too soon for you to go hollow, and it's not good for a maiden's health to spend the night out in the rain either. I know, I'll go have a word with Mira-rin, and appeal for a reduced sentence.”

“Please!” the princess looked shocked. “Don't trouble Master this late at night! Not for my sake...”

“Yes, yes. You're going to become a real pain if your masochism gets any worse, so I'm going.”

Izumi left the prisoners and walked uphill to the cottage overlooking the slope.

There were two more knight with spears stationed at the doorway and they weren't too agreeable to her plans either.

“The leaders are resting, we've orders not to let anyone in unless it's an emergency.”

“What is this if not an emergency?” Izumi argued. “The cute princess is going to be stuck wallowing in self-pity all night. Who knows, she might end up becoming a permanent sub at this rate and ruin all the fanfic settings? And catch a cold, even as hard as it should be for idiots. Don't you feel sorry for her?”

“...Er, her life is not in immediate danger, is it? These are our orders. We cannot let you in or do anything about that. Please understand.”

“Wouldn't you say there are more important things in life than simply living it, by whatever means?” Izumi argued. “As a man, can you forgive yourself for leaving a young lady in the dark and rain? What kind of a knight are you, even?”

The knight looked conflicted between her appeal and his duty.

“Madam, I understand your concerns, but I can’t—”

At that moment, the cottage door opened behind the guards with a creak.

It turned out the Colonel wasn't asleep yet and now appeared in the doorway, eyeing Izumi and the guards in annoyance.

“What is this debating about?” she asked. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Ah, you were still awake?” Izumi cheerfully greeted Miragrave. “What a coincidence, there was something I was hoping to discuss with you, but these fine gentlemen won't take the hint.”

“As if I could sleep, with Attiker's snoring rocking the whole hut,” the woman sighed and stepped out. “What is the matter? Make it quick.”

“About the princess...”

“Oh? You wish to join her? Fear not, we have chains.”

“Eehh, that's not…”

“I'm not letting Yuliana go. End of discussion.”

“Why is that?" Izumi furrowed her brows. “You know, there's this thing called basic human rights, empathy, camaraderie and so on. Either way, it's pitiful and I may have to do something about it.”

The Colonel's eyes narrowed as she looked back at Izumi.

“Aren’t you faithful to her, for a ‘mercenary’? Speaking of which, I still haven't heard who you are, exactly, or where you got that sword. Somehow, the conversation keeps eluding this part.”

“Oh? Grandpa didn't tell you yet?”

“...Yornwhal? Tell me what?”

“Um, never mind. It's nothing too important, I think.”

“Whether it's important or not, you should leave that to my discretion,” the Colonel said and stepped closer. “There's an odd air about you. I have not yet made up my mind whether you are an ally or an enemy. No, I should know better. It's the ones with the innocent face, who are to watch out for. Well? How about it? What should we do about you, Itaka Izumi?”

“...Could it be, Mira-rin is the type who gets extra cranky when she’s sleepy?”

“I don't sleep much at all. Well, you comedian? Will there be an answer?”

“I try not to take sides, really. I'm an impartial ally of justice, above anything.”

Miragrave remained unconvinced, as expected.

“I will sooner believe in eternal youth than the existence of an impartial human,” she said. “And those who refuse to take sides are generally either cowards or cutthroats. Are you really here for the princess? Or perhaps there are...ulterior motives? And where is the other girl? She disappeared as soon as we reached the outpost and hasn't been seen since. Where is she, right now, and what are you two up to? It’s past the time I let you roam free.”

“Rise is being Rise, I don't know about her doings!” Izumi answered. “Rather than me, you should blame bad parenting on that girl's part. And as for my own plans, I thought it was pretty clear why I'm here?”

“It is? Then enlighten me.”

“Of course, it’s—”

There was no telling how the conversation was going to evolve from there. No one could find out, as they were suddenly interrupted by the sound of a horn booming in the dark.

The knights at the watchtowers were equipped with such instruments and had used them earlier in the day to signal the return of the scout squads. But there should've been no one left alive outside the walls at this time. Which meant that whatever they had seen now couldn't be human, but neither was it a fox or any other harmless creature of the forest.

The resonant toot was quickly echoed by the other towers.

“ALERT! TO ARMS!” the patrols at the ground level called out and soon enough, the whole settlement was bustling with activity again, regardless of the late timing. “TO ARMS!”

The knights donned their armors with commendable swiftness and were soon ready and awaiting further orders in agreed positions.

The Colonel forgot about Izumi and left to check the situation at the main entrance.

“What is it?”

“Commander, you had better come see for yourself,” the knight who had made the first sighting called down to her from the southern tower. “The wizard too. I don’t have the words to describe this!”

They traded places in the cramped little wood tower and gazed out into the night encircling the outpost, in the fires' limited light. At first, it was difficult to see anything but dark haze, but as their eyes slowly adjusted, they discerned the strangest of views.

In the treeline bordering the slope, some hundred yards from the wall, stood people.

If not an army, exactly, it could have well been defined as a crowd. Dozens—if not hundreds—of tall, dark, humanoid figures, side by side, all facing the outpost. They didn't seem like armed warriors. They lacked swords, spears, pitchforks, and torches. With no more shields than plate armors or banners, they simply stood there in silence, a ghastly, empty-handed mob of no lord.

“Yornwhal,” Miragrave said, “tell me you're seeing this and I've not lost my mind.”

“I don't fault you for thinking so,” the wizard answered. “No mortal has seen such a sight since the days of Emperor Yollem. Yes, there can be no mistake. Dryads. Woodland elementals, the faerie army. It seems we have become something beyond a nuisance to our host.”

“Ma'am, we're surrounded on all sides,” the Captain informed the Colonel. “And outnumbered, at least ten to one.”

“Can they be reasoned with?” the commander asked the old man. “Negotiate. Tell them it's not our wish to fight.”

“The effort will likely be wasted. We're here for the spring, they must know it. And...I'm not sure they have ears.”

“Try it. Speak to them, see if they'll respond.”

The mage obediently held onto the guard railing and addressed the stoic spirits in the distance, in the words of the Old Tongue.

“Hael, ellen lumibok! Oic sadra vi setelle domeno, nuest sacara ta divesta.”

He waited for a moment in silence, listening, but heard no response. The audience ahead stood without moving, without speaking, just staring. Not even the faintest of whispers could be picked up.

“Hoelle! Tue se? Náme rosta!” he tried again.

Nature wasn't talkative today. Yet, it was unlikely they had come only to innocently watch the outpost. The wordless tension in the air was heavy. Miragrave glanced back and called out to the knights below.

“Archers, ready. Fifty yards.”

There were only thirty archers in the company. By no means enough to stop an assault from all sides, but the foes behind the palisade couldn't know that. Perhaps a rain of arrows would still make the enemy change their minds about the offensive. No one could tell how effective the tactic was going to be, but neither did they dare to think what would happen if it weren't. They could only hope and pray the situation would be resolved without an all-out battle.

But this hope became shattered as soon as it had been imagined.

Without a warning, the floodgate was broken.

As if a soundless war horn had been blown, the dryads attacked. They didn't run like bloodthirsty barbarians or bewildered beasts, but calmly stepped on, walked steadily, like so many woodcutters returning home after a day's hard work. Nevertheless, the siege around the outpost was slowly, but steadily closing in.

“Ready! Hold!” Following the horde’s approach with devilish patience, Miragrave waited for the front line to enter range, before giving the command. “Fire!”

The thirty archers released their arrows at once. As veterans of their trade, they didn't need to confirm the distance with their own eyes; the angle of the arrow and the direction of the wind sufficed to tell them where the shafts would land beyond the palisade. The only ones hindered by the obstacle were the invaders.

Despite the blind volley, a commendable number of the projectiles found a target too, thanks to the enemy's tightly knit advance.

However, the psychological effect fell short of the desired.

The deadly greeting invoked no cries of terror or agony among the enemy ranks. To everyone's confusion, the eerie silence was preserved uninterrupted. Worse yet, the assault wasn't stalled in the least. Even with arrows jutting out of their bodies, the unsettling men of the forest continued to step forward, up the slope.

The reason was simple and soon apparent to anyone, as the attackers came closer to the light. Unlike how they had seemed from a distance, the dryads were in no way similar to humans in appearance. Their bodies weren't made of flesh and bones, but of naked wood and bark and nothing but. They didn't speak, seeing as they had no mouths. Neither did they have eyes to see, and no discernible ears either, as the wizard knew. Looking at their faces, one had as much luck seeing a familiar expression stare back, as he would when looking at a random log. The dryads' long, wavy limbs were like branches, with wriggly, worm-like roots for toes and fingers. The arrows had become stuck in their thick torsos like they would've at regular target boards, and not any deadlier.

“Damn it, how do you fight them?” Miragrave asked the wizard.

“They're spirits using wood as their medium,” Yornwhal explained. “As such, they have no easily exploited weakness. The whole vessel has to be destroyed to expel the spirit within. Though severing their limbs is probably enough to disable them.”

“So we’re limited to fighting in close quarters? We need something more substantial than that with these numbers. Tell me you know fire spells.”

“I know a few spells of that nature, yes, but...Do keep in mind that our defenses, houses, and everything around us is also made of wood. I would prefer to keep flames to moderation within the outpost if there's any way to avoid it, or we might perish together with our foes.”

The first of the dryads reached the trench outside the palisade.

Only mildly inconvenienced the sharpened sticks set at the bottom, they crawled up to the wall and started to climb up along the poles. Even without any footholds, their wooden fingers clung to the logs and dragged their unfeeling bodies up, slowly but surely.

“Do what you can,” Miragrave told the wizard.

The commander herself jumped down from the watchtower and instructed the troops.

“Grab spears! Poles! Anything with reach, and spread out! Don't let them climb over! Push them back!”

The knights hurried to form a defensive line along the palisade and changed their bows for long arms. As the climbing dryads eventually reached the top of the palisade, the men quickly knocked them back with their tools.

For a time, the battle proceeded with almost comical ease. But dismissing the dryads as brainless fodder over their appearance and sluggish behavior was a dangerous mistake to make. The woodmen suddenly tightened their grips on the wall and human strength was no longer enough to easily throw them off. And the more time was spent peeling one invader off the wall, the more time its allies had to slip past and drop inside.

A number of defenders now had to draw their swords and axes, and enter close combat, to protect the others defending the wall.

Fortunately, the dryad's bodies weren't quite as tough as regular trees. Of course, unless their limbs were suitably soft and flexible, moving them would've been impossible. So long as enough force was applied, even a regular sword could hack through them. The thick torso and neck were more resistant against attacks, but aiming for them was meaningless to begin with, seeing as they had no heart or otherwise essential organs to protect. So long as the assailants were properly dismembered, the threat was eliminated.

But again, the theoretical simplicity of the task failed to translate as ease of execution.

One knight slightly missed his aim and as the result, his weapon became stuck in the side of the wooden body. As he struggled to pull it off, the dryad, not feeling any mortal pain, reached out and caught the unfortunate warrior's head in its grip. For a brief moment, the soldier thought he was safe in his armor—Only to discover to his horror that softness and flexibility didn’t mean weakness.

“AAARGGHHH!”

Everyone nearby watched in dismay as the hold of the wooden arms continued to tighten with increasing, seemingly limitless strength, like a vice, slowly crushing the steel helmet and the man inside. Even as his comrades desperately cut at the dryad's body, it stubbornly held on, until it was too late.

Similar losses were soon occurring everywhere in the besieged camp. The wooden fingers weren't quick or agile but sank into naked flesh like a fork in a pudding, wherever they could find it. An arm or a leg caught in a dryad's hold was easily crushed, regardless of armoring.

Ignoring the hacked down dryad bodies that had started to pile up on the ground could also prove deadly. So long as they retained even one partly functional limb, they would continue to drag themselves on and grab onto anything within reach, until decisively cut into pieces. A lot of knights had thrown off their helmets to see better in the limited lighting. This improved their reactions and mobility, but also risked an easy death.

Rather than a conventional battle, it became an exercise of deforestation, where the trees happened to be fighting back. Due to the attacking side’s simple-minded nature, there were no grand strategies or elaborate maneuvers involved. The dryads could only be cut down head-on, reducing the fight to a simple contest of numbers, speed, and stamina.

It took no exceptional skill for the Imperials to dispatch one dryad after another, but even as the invaders' losses were far greater in numbers, the inhuman assault showed no signs of relenting.

As the night dragged on, more and more dryads kept coming and the defenders were slowly but inevitably pushed back.

“Yorem! Mavya! Mavya!”

The Court Wizard cast orbs of fire at the enemies outside, setting a great many of them ablaze. But the spell's casting speed was slow and the reach too short to hold back the massive crowd. The enemies were spread too far and wide for a solitary cannon to drive them back. Worse yet, even as they were on fire, the woodmen kept coming. So long as there remained just a faint hint of vitality in their charred limbs, they pressed on. Having the burning dryads hug the wooden palisade and spread the flames to the piles of corpses soon became a danger of its own. If the fire spread, if a hole was made in the wall, the outpost would be quickly overrun. Yornwhal eventually had to abandon his post at the watchtower and retreat, as the defenders couldn't secure his rear anymore.

As the front line pulled back and not all of the palisade could be effectively defended, the knights focused on the entrance instead, where the dryads struggled to get past the thorny roadblock. The Langorian princess and her knight before the gate remained safe but in chains. As the walls in the southeast and the southwest were lost, their position turned more precarious by the minute.

No one had the time to pay attention to them. None of the knights, that is.

Izumi took no part in the action but watched over her friends. Now, seeing that the situation was turning critical, she resorted to more forceful methods.

“Don't move.”

Taking aim, she swung her greatsword, severing the steel chains, and Yuliana was freed. Only a bit reluctantly did the woman free Sir Mallory as well.

“What should we do?” Izumi asked Yuliana. “I don't like micro-management or base defender games very much, so can I leave the thinking to you? Do we give up and run?”

“We're besieged, there's no way out,” the princess thought while rubbing her wrists. “We have no choice but to do our part in the defense, to whatever end. Is it all right, if I leave the gate to you for a while? I need to go consult with Master.”

“Try to make it quick, okay? It's kind of boring to fight enemies that don't bleed or scream...And that really didn’t come out right.”

“...I shall pretend I didn’t hear it,” Yuliana told Izumi and hurried up the slope.

How to defeat a tireless, merciless army of undying spirits? Even in this dire situation, Yuliana hadn’t lost hope yet. In fact, she had already thought of a plan. But whether she would be allowed to carry out that plan, which she was powerless to do on her own, and whether it would succeed too, was another matter.

Nevertheless, there was only one way to find out.

4

The field command had been set up around the well between the cottage and the cabins. The wounded and civilians had been evacuated into the house, when the dryads had started to overrun the tents down the hill. Some of the Varnamians had joined the fray of their own volition. In fact, armed with their work axes and not slowed down by heavy armors, they managed the familiar job of chopping up wood somewhat better than the elite knights. But in spite of their courageous input, the situation didn’t appear to be improving.

The onerous conflict had dragged on for hours already and the casual yet uninterrupted flood of invaders showed no signs of subsiding. Several hundreds of dryads had been cut down against the palisade, but more kept coming and even the thoroughly trained Imperials were getting exhausted.

The night was filled with the dull sounds of metal hitting wood, occasionally broken up by the pained cries of the injured, and calls of help by their companions. A moment's oversight could mean becoming gripped by wooden hands in the dark and pulled apart.

With so limited numbers, even a few casualties hurt.

“Captain, update on the losses?” Colonel Miragrave asked her assistant.

“Ma'am. Eighteen confirmed dead. Twenty-one incapacitated. At least eight are missing.”

“Damn it, we won’t last another hour at this rate. Each man we lose adds weight to the enemy’s advance. For how long can we keep the front gate?”

“The defenders are nearly surrounded,” the knight reported. “It will be lost any moment now.”

“We lose the gate, we lose the shed and stables. Then the cabins,” Miragrave forecast the grim course of battle. “And that will be it. Any openings emerged in the siege?”

“No foes are attacking from north-west, the hill’s direction, by the looks of it.”

“The locals told me there is a shrine for Lord Matheus built at the summit,” Yornwhal mentioned. “It is possible that the dryads will avoid the holy ground, as it is of spiritual significance.”

“So we'll make a hole in the palisade and withdraw uphill,” the Colonel concluded. “That will be our last card. The main problem are the supplies, the horses, and the wounded. We need to detach manpower to move them, yet the enemy will overrun us if we break up the formation. No, if we light a fire on the palisade and the buildings, it might stall the dryads, perhaps long enough for us to evacuate the wounded, at least.”

“That would mean abandoning the outpost!” Vizier Attiker intervened. “Our supplies! We would burn down our only foothold in this accursed forest? Do reconsider!”

“Our options are either that or being wiped out,” Miragrave retorted. “Which do you prefer?”

“Tell the men to fight harder? No surrender!”

—“Master!” At that moment, Yuliana came running up the hill, accompanied by Brian.

“Yuliana?” Miragrave raised her gaze at the girl in surprise. “I told the sergeant to release you if the gate was lost. Does that mean...”

“Not yet,” the princess answered. “But at this rate, it won't be long. What are you going to do?”

“There’s no winning this flood. The camp will be evacuated, and we will make our last stand on the hill.”

“No,” Yuliana shook her head. “We should charge and drive them back.”

“Attack?” the Colonel frowned. “Don’t be absurd. How do you presume to do that? With so few of us left.”

“It may be enough,” the princess insisted, with confidence for which not even she could name a source. “It’s not just men we have. You're a cavalry, take the horses! We'll gather a strike force and ride out through the back gate. The dryads don't realize it's an opening, do they? We can catch them by surprise and overwhelm them on the slope. On open ground, they can't choke us like this, they’re too slow for that! We’ll have the advantage!”

“An irrational gamble,” Miragrave shook her head. “If the outpost is taken meanwhile, you'll only be left trapped between the enemy and your own walls.”

“Only a squad of twenty will do,” Yuliana insisted. “Even fifteen! It's about mobility, not the numbers. The rest may still hold their stations and keep evacuating when the pressure of the offensive shifts. It’s the only way.”

“And how exactly do you mean to force them back? The dryads have little fear for our swords. Torching them is too slow. There is no reason why they should even care about our maneuvers.”

—“Watch out! They're coming!”

A knight keeping watch suddenly called out. Three dryads had managed to get past the wall defenders in the east. The knights couldn’t leave their positions to catch them either, as more were on their way. The elementals now approached the central yard across the muddy field in long strides. Command’s guards quickly stepped forward to shield the leaders. But before they could get to work, something unexpected happened.

One of the dryads abruptly burst into fire.

It burned with intense heat, engulfed in bright, pale green flames, and collapsed mid-step.

The one responsible for the unnatural surprise wasn't the Court Wizard. Instead, an elusive figure had appeared behind the dryads and stabbed the woodman with a weapon hidden in her hand. She repeated the feat with the other two, dancing around them while they vainly searched for their enemy. The two remaining dryads likewise perished in an unnatural, explosive fire, bright enough to make the onlookers avert their faces.

“How about using these?” Their rescuer, Riswelze, stepped before everyone’s astonished eyes, twirling something that looked like a black-shafted arrow between her fingers. “Hot stuff, isn't it! Whatever the arrowheads hit burns happily away in no time at all.”

“That would be because of Yodith,” Yornwhal said. “Anything marked by the rune or the weapon inscribed with it is consumed by divine flame, as an offering to the Gods. Try not to prick yourself with it, child. That fire does not discriminate between the wielder and the foe.”

Colonel Miragrave glared at Riswelze, less happy about the intervention.

“I see princesses these days include thieves in their merry company,” she growled. “Were we in Tratovia now, you'd be relieved of the hand that can't tell other people's belongings apart from her own.”

“Oh trust me,” the assassin replied, “I'm only too well-versed in the legislature of your uptight Empire. But is this really the time for that? With these babies, we can make short work of those blockheads.”

“The problem is, we only have two hundred of them,” Attiker said. “Well, less than that are left now. Once they're used, the arrows tend to burn together with the target. There’s hardly enough to turn the tables on such a horde.”

“Can't the wizard make more of them?” Brian suggested.

“If only I knew how!” Yornwhal answered. “Those arrows were produced by a master of magic head and shoulders above myself. They represent ingenuity I cannot hope to repeat with my humble talents.”

“It's fine. They can still give us the edge we need to clear the siege,” Yuliana told Miragrave. “What do you say, Master? I am prepared to lead the charge myself! Please let us try! I'm certain it is better than sitting here with the noose tightening around our necks, or burning our only shelter.”

“What if you fail?” Miragrave asked her. “All you will have achieved then is divide our forces and waste our strongest asset. A strategy that does not plan for its failures is worthless. And there may yet be a way to break the siege without using the arrows. I cannot allow it, not until we are sure there is no other way.”

“But how much longer will it take?” Yuliana asked. “How many more sacrifices will it mean? Lives are lost each moment we stand here deliberating! Which is more important to you—your own soldiers or mere letters carved in metal?”

“How dare you—!?” Fury lit up in the commander's eyes. “Do you think this is a game for me!?”

“Commander!” The Vizier unexpectedly took Yuliana's side in the debate. “What are you saving the arrows for? They were made to be used! Open your eyes! We are not going to live through this! The daemon is dead! Stop chasing the ghosts of the past and look at what's in front of you! Give the girl a chance!”

Whereas it was rather evident that his argument was for his own well-being, rather than to Yuliana’s benefit, no one could deny that he had a point.

For a moment, everyone stood still and wordless, only the hacking of wood, cries of rage, and occasional pained shrieks for a background track. The Colonel, biting her lip, looked down, torn by doubt and the others anxiously awaited for her to make up her mind.

Then, Miragrave finally spoke.

“If it is indeed dead, then why does it seem to me like our every action is playing into its hand?” Nevertheless, she turned to Yuliana and waved her hand. “Fine! You have my permission. Take the arrows. As many as you need. Ride out with my Captain. And come back alive, you hear me?”

The knight princess of Langoria nodded with resolution in her eyes.

“I will.”

5

The front gate had not fallen yet. A group of ten knights or so—it was difficult to count in the dark—kept hitting anything that moved in the cramped passage, trying to keep the threat outside, and had managed to create an impressive bottleneck. More so than the defenders, the swarming dryads became an obstacle to themselves. The knights had expected the enemy to cross over the side walls and force them to retreat much sooner, but strangely, their rear remained rather quiet and free of hostiles. Though they couldn’t tell it in the chaos, their safety was mostly due to the woman with the greatsword discreetly swatting away anything that came too close, thus keeping the path clear.

But this was not such an easy task for Izumi either.

In fact, the dryads were quite possibly the worst conceivable matchup for her.

Her large sword was ill fit for precision and kept getting stuck on the wooden bodies. The only way to safely and quickly clean the blade was to swing it hard enough for the centrifugal force, or collision with others, to peel off the attachments. Izumi was not in the shape for such anaerobic exercises and well removed from her comfort zone.

“I'm getting kind of tired and sweaty here,” she told the gate defenders. “It’s icky and gross, so I'm going to leave here, okay? I'm really going to leave, you hear me? I'm really, really, really leaving now. I mean it. Is that okay? Are you going to be fine with that? You’re probably going to get overwhelmed and die without me here, you know?”

No one could hear her over the battle, if they even noticed she was there. But as exhausted as she felt, Izumi didn’t have the heart to take off and abandon the knights, when more enemies were on their way. She swept off the legs from under another approaching dryad, and then hammered down the falling opponent. Even legless, its mid-body smashed, the creature blindly groped at the hems of her surcoat.

“Gross! That's gross! Diediediediedie!” she kicked the dryad back and smacked it further away in a wild golf swing. “How many more are there left? What’s my quota? I wouldn’t mind a progress bar or something. Or am I on the clock? Give me the countdown timer then! Where are you, Yule…? Come baaaack!”

Despite her complaints, Izumi noted that the offensive wasn't particularly intense in this area anymore. The dryads didn’t attempt to clear a path for those coming after or assist those that were in trouble. It was as if the ancient spirits simply saw no difference between a wall and a road, but took the most direct path to their destination. They paid no attention to the shed with the supplies or the animal shelter. They were no different from ants. Their way of war was in every respect different from that between people and other races, lacking in strategy and secondary goals on the way to the primary objective.

What was that objective, exactly?

A goal the elementals did seem to have, though difficult to identify.

As unintelligent as their maneuvering seemed on the ground level, looking at the big picture showed a clear shift in the focus of the conflict. It seemed almost as if they could tell where the leaders were. The wooden beings mostly ignored the defending knights where they could and instead strode up the slope, towards the main building.

It seemed their wish was not simply to massacre every last one of the humans intruding in their kingdom, destroying their houses or supplies, but to eliminate those in charge? How could they have such an enlightened, Chess-like purpose when their maneuvering on the field gave no hint of rational thinking?

No, perhaps this theory was also mistaken.

“Did we maybe misunderstand them all along...?” Izumi pondered. “What are they really trying to do?”

“AAAGGGHHHH—!”

Izumi’s reflections were interrupted by a howl of pain.

One of the knights fighting at the entryway had his arm caught by the reaching dryads. With their inhuman strength, they forcibly pulled him straight through the spiked obstacle, breaking it in the process. His companions tried in vain to get the man back from the relentless treemen. He didn't make it through in one piece.

It was the last straw.

In the dark, cramped gateway, where corpses from both sides had piled up, it was hard to tell what was a living dryad and what only a dead, disembodied branch, or a broken piece of the barrier. In the tired men's eyes, it all blurred into one abstract, thorny mess. Until they reached their mental limit.

“Fuck, it's lost! Fall back! FALL BACK!”

The Imperials deemed the situation hopeless and turned to retreat. Some knights picked up torches and threw them into the heap of wood, dryads, and dead knights. Soon, the whole entrance was in blazes. A number of dryads burned in the intense furnace, but the success was fleeting. It also meant that once the fire faded, the path would be left wide open for the others.

Not that the dryads would obediently wait for their turn. While the flames yet remained livid, blazing effigies already waded through them, not all that unlike the robotic villains of a certain famous science fiction film.

For the dryads, their bodies were only shells, vessels temporarily inhabited for the necessities of the physical world and easily discarded. They felt no pain, no touch, not much anything at all. Lacking the advanced minds of their divinely created relative spirits, strangers to the concepts of ego and will, they moved only by instinct, according to the needs of the collective, and nothing beyond that.

The early pioneers burned to crisp and fell before making it to the other side, but each following ghastly warrior reached a step further. The knights withdrew to the cabins’ line to catch their breath, but had to soon ready their weapons again, to return to the fight for their lives.

“——!”

Before any sword could find target again, or a swordsman his fate—a loud sound echoed over the slope, carrying far, far between the trees in every direction.

It was the pompous boom of a genuine war horn, signaling the start of an offensive.

Surprisingly enough, this bold, encouraging sound was enough to stop even the advancing dryads. They paused, turning their faceless heads in its direction. No one could guess what went on in their primitive minds, but perhaps at that moment, they could feel something akin to nostalgia. Perhaps their spirits, spawned from the creators' lingering will that coursed through all of existence, still retained a faint memory of the days long gone; the Golden Age, when resolve and purpose were strongly felt in everything.

Shortly after, more strange sounds could be heard beyond the palisade.

The thunderous galloping of horses, as well as strange hisses and whooms.

Izumi took the chance to run up to the watchtower left from the entryway and climbed up for a better view. What she saw was certainly a spectacle one wouldn't want to miss for any money.

A squad of fifteen riders charged down the slope from the northwest, through the attacking dryads' loose ranks, bows in hand, firing without rest. Everywhere their arrows hit, wooden figures were lit up in explosions of bright, greenish flames, as if they had all been dowsed in petrol.

The spirits hadn't cared about being burned before—but this fire was special.

The brief distress of those touched by the flames was apparent in their gestures. In a panic, the burning woodmen flailed from side to side, spreading the hungry flames to others nearby before expiring.

This was a fire that burned body and spirit alike. Being hit by it meant one’s soul was no longer one’s own, but only fuel to burn in the glory of the departed Gods.

To humans, death was an ever-present companion. They were used to it, some more so than the others. But for the immortal spirits whose expansive lives knew no limit, being given a definite end was a novel and abominable event. Witnessing their comrades one by one depart from existence with their otherworldly senses, removed from the collective, the dryads forgot about their war effort and turned to flee.

The cavalry rode on, firing a magical arrow after another, the black stallions surrounded by bright, vividly blooming flowers of emerald fire all around in the night, as if it was only a joyous new year's parade. They rode around the entire outpost along the wide field, then turned and rode back again, and again, for as long as their ammunition lasted, sowing death among the deathless.

Meanwhile the surviving onlookers raised their voices into a roaring cheer.

“YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!”

Chased out by this noise, the surviving spirits struggled to return to the woods whence they came.

But those woods offered them no safety either.

Up on the roof of the cottage overlooking the slope, the Imperial Court Wizard surveyed the battlefield. After the last of the arrows was fired, the knight captain leading the charge blew his horn again, as a sign that they were done and retreating.

Hearing it, Yornwhal raised his wooden staff high in the air and spoke again the arcane words of the ancient tongue.

“Capi tulene, loco tenesalewa catate. Ne muri deos te delefa lasate. Ioios co lea ma sadatem.”

Like the earthly pope reading out his sermon on a day of Easter, the wizard spoke to the primal forces of the world, summoning strength beyond his mortal frame. Speaking those words, taught to humans by the God that had created them, he was for that moment made a peer and a brother to the Lord of these woods.

And nature listened to Yornwhal.

A fire much greater than any of those burning up on the ground appeared in the sky. As if the sun had returned early to banish the night, that intensely hot, pulsating orb hovered over the cabin rooftops, distorting the air. Those on the ground below were forced to shield their eyes faces from its intense heat, which caused water on the field to evaporate and rise up as milky vapor.

Then, by naming it, the wizard set his spell free.

“Cataste rhea.”

Firestorm.

The blazing sphere split. It divided into dozens of smaller, but no less intense meteors, which rained all around the slope, among the trees, exploding upon impact. In a flash, the nearby woods were turned into a literal sea of flames. Fire rained over the fleeing dryads and devoured them, releasing the spirits from their ashen shells. For three times the fire sphere spewed havoc near and far before fading away. Even after the light faded and night returned, the forest continued to burn on, in a view much alike the medieval depictions of perdition.

The wizard lowered his staff and leaned heavily on it, exhaling deep.

“Okay, now tell me,” the young woman crouching on the edge of the roof asked him, watching the devastation. “Why didn't we use that one before?”

The wizard gave Riswelze a bitter, helpless glance.

“Look, child,” he said, gesturing towards the forest. “Look around you. Even seeing this, do you still feel such a thing was worth using? There is no holding back those flames now. For how many days will Felorn burn? How many trees, how many plants, noble spirits, proud beasts, and innocent, unrelated animals will have to perish tonight, only so that we humans may survive? There are no excuses left to make. By doing this, we have committed the final betrayal against the Lord who loved us and gave us so many chances to turn back. And for what purpose? For our vanity and greed?”

“You would've rather died then?”

“No,” the old man shook his head. “It’s because I want to live that I did it. But does this mean we are saved now? It’s much too soon to tell. No. I fear this is only where our true trial begins.”