Chapter 39……………………………………………..
Every single feature of his face, his broad shoulders, his voice, his swordsmanship…
Sephairos was handsome in every way, but without a doubt, the best of all were his blue eyes, reminiscent of sapphires.
“I don’t really like sapphires.”
“Why? Is there a gemstone you dislike?”
“The color’s too deep. It’s perfect for bewitching people. And once you give your heart away, you can’t function in everyday life anymore.”
“…Th-thank you.”
“Hm? Ah, no. I meant the gem is pretty. That sapphires are pretty…”
Sephairos’s black hair brushed against Adamas’s shoulder. Just as she reached out to stroke it—
—Behold! This great one returns!
A small head suddenly popped up from the ground.
—I’m back.
From the trembling earth, he poked his face out with a little pop.
“Oh, welcome back, Nom.”
Adamas hurried over and gently brushed the dirt off his clothes.
—Right. This great one has returned… Hey, why is that guy over there sprawled out, glaring at me with a rotten expression?
“Ahaha…”
Ah, that’s because I got startled and shoved Sephairos away all of a sudden.
“Hey. Spirit! Don’t look at me like that. It’s unpleasant.”
Sephairos snapped irritably, still seated on the ground.
—Ha! Who was the one glaring at me with a rotten face! Master, how much longer does that rude brat have left to live? I’m considering shortening it for him.
“W-well. I wonder how long he’ll live?”
It was fortunate that Sephairos couldn’t understand Nom.
If he could, he’d surely have drawn his sword already, declaring he’d end Nom’s lifespan first.
“Hahaha. So then, dear spirit, what did you see?”
Adamas had asked Nom to observe the movements of the Lobiana army, which had been encamped for two days on the Ushi Plains without making a move.
—Nothing special.
“What did he say?”
“He said there’s nothing special.”
“Really? Ask who the commander is.”
At Sephairos’s words, Nom scratched his chin.
—Didn’t recognize any of the faces.
“He says he didn’t recognize any of them.”
Adamas relayed the message.
“Figures.”
Sephairos nodded and muttered quietly.
“I didn’t expect much. I’ve been buried under the desert for about fifty years, after all.”
—Th-that insolent brat! How dare he show such disrespect to a spirit!
“Sephairos! Nom understands everything you say!”
“Ah, sorry.”
With a light wave of his hand to end the apology, Sephairos lost interest in Nom and fixed his gaze on the map of the Baran River.
—Ugh…
As Nom repeatedly jabbed his head into the ground in frustration, Adamas helped him up.
“Nom, I’m sorry. I’ll apologize for him. So how many troops were there? More than us? What about horses?”
—At least twice as many men as here. And over a thousand horses.
“What? What could they possibly want in such a tiny marquisate to come in those numbers?!”
Adamas clutched her head at Nom’s report.
—There were quite a few people wearing heavy clothes…
“Are the nobles finally stepping in?”
Normally, when going to war, it was customary for soldiers to prepare their own armor and weapons.
Adamas quickly recalled the strength of the Mano Fran forces gathered at the marquisate’s training grounds before departure.
Most of the marquisate’s soldiers wore worn leather greaves, loose coats, rusty iron helmets, and carried wooden spears.
Many of them were elderly as well.
“Ros, about our soldiers. Why did we bring the old men? Some of them were even leaning on canes.”
Just to make up the numbers? It’s not something inhumane like using them as human shields… right?
“They’re mounted archers.”
“Huh?”
“Adamas. Three months ago, thanks to your efforts in battle, many of the Mano Fran soldiers survived.”
“Oh, come on, no need to bring that up…”
“But the truth is, at that time, most of our mounted archers were wiped out.”
“Ah… right…”
She had arrived in the past when Sephairos was fighting alone by the river, prepared to die.
By then, most of the mounted archers had already perished in Lobiana’s preemptive strike.
“The elderly men conscripted this time fought as mounted archers fifty years ago in the Ushi–Baran battle. They can’t ride anymore, so they’re just archers now.”
I see. They’re veterans.
“Don’t worry too much. I’ll protect everyone here.”
Looking at Sephairos’s confident blue eyes, Adamas gave a bitter smile.
That was exactly what worried her most.
The way Sephairos treated his own life so lightly.
It was clearer than ever now.
As long as the marquisate isn’t safe, I can never stop trying to save Sephairos.
“Mas. I’ve been thinking about it carefully. The reason Lobiana is advancing on the marquisate—it’s probably because of the Crown Prince.”
“Yeah. I think so too.”
This whole mess happened because that bastard’s obsessed with love.
“There was the investiture ceremony this summer.”
“Hm? What? Ahaha. Right. Spinel became Crown Prince, didn’t he?”
Adamas trailed off, avoiding Sephairos’s eyes.
He became Crown Prince this summer?
“The long, exhausting succession struggle that lasted eighteen years has finally ended. If you’re looking for a motive, perhaps it’s a display of power through war, or strengthening alliances. Attacking Mano right after becoming Crown Prince would make sense for that.”
No. It’s nothing that grand.
He’s just crazy in love.
More precisely, he’s in love with himself for being in love.
Still… it’s only year 620. He probably didn’t come in person.
Maybe Sephairos is right.
The mad one is Spinel, not necessarily his faction.
“Well, maybe that’s possible. Nom, was there anything else unusual?”
—Hmm. The flag was a bit strange!
“What flag? Wasn’t it the white owl flag?”
Lobiana was founded by a tribe that worshiped a great bird as its totem.
According to legend, the first emperor was born from an egg delivered by a giant white owl. Thus, the Lobiana army’s emblem bore a pure white owl on a black background.
—Not the owl flag. There was another flag next to it! While I was chained up, did Lobiana merge with someone or something?
“There was another flag? What was it?”
Adamas raised her voice.
—A black horse with bright red horns.
“A black horse with red horns? What kind of horse has horns?”
What in the world is that?
Adamas scratched her head.
“I see. As expected…”
Sephairos let out a deep sigh at the mention of another flag.
“Ros. Have you ever seen a horned horse?”
Were there horned horses in a past I don’t know about?
Is this ecosystem even okay?
“Mas. A black unicorn is Spinel’s banner. It seems he brought his troops personally. My guess was at least partly right.”
“Oh. A unicorn. Of course. So it’s not a real animal. Wait—”
What did Sephairos just say?
“Ros! So you’re saying… Spinel came?”
“Probably. Hey, Nom, did you see someone wearing black armor?”
—Ah, he always speaks so curtly. Doesn’t he know how to show respect to a spirit!
“S-sorry. Please answer, Nom.”
Please. Adamas clasped her hands before him.
—Hmm. If you mean that gloomy guy covered head to toe in dark armor, yeah, I definitely saw him. He was in the best tent.
“In the best tent… Wait! That wasn’t really Spinel, was it?”
It can’t be. It mustn’t be!
“Why not? It’s Spinel. He’s famous for wearing only black armor. The only thing that isn’t black is the gem embedded in his helmet.”
“Really? Is it okay to stand out like that on a battlefield? His ego must be sky-high!”
“So what? He probably won’t fight personally. And at night, he might actually be less noticeable.”
“Is that so?”
“Oh, right. I heard the gem on his helmet is the same as his name. Mas, what color is spinel?”
“It comes in many colors.”
“A gem that looks different colors because of light reflection?”
“No. Not like that. Some spinels are red enough to be mistaken for rubies, while others are blue like sapphires. Gems aren’t classified by color to begin with.”
“I see. Then it would be hard for ordinary people to identify spinel by color.”
Adamas nodded.
Spinel. This was a situation she had never anticipated.
“Nom. Did… did Spinel really lead the army himself?”
Her trembling eyes locked onto Nom.
Please say no.
Tell me you were mistaken.
Completely oblivious to her desperate wish, Nom replied brightly—
—Yeah. If you mean that guy dressed entirely in black, I definitely saw him!
No. It can’t be. That must not happen.
There was a clear difference between Spinel’s faction attacking the marquisate as a show of power and Spinel himself attacking it.
The wind whipped violently against the dark blue military tent.
Adamas’s heart pounded at the same speed—no, even faster.
Spinel had come.
The man who had destroyed the Marquisate of Mano had arrived—two years earlier than before—to destroy it again.
