The one and only blacksmith's store in the whole town of Berchtesgaden was situated under the mountain ridge, where noblemen and renowned merchants gathered. Without fail, the sound of hammering coming from the blacksmith store would permeate the townsfolk's ears each day. However, today it was slightly quieter than usual. Since morning, the old blacksmith has been acutely focused on sharpening a short blade.
"It's almost done, take a look at this!" blacksmith handed the blade on the grindstone to the middle-aged man sitting by the door.
Vangol Abberning Hagrid took over the weapon to examine it thoroughly, gingerly sliding his finger over its blade. "Not bad!" the General of Imperial Guards who imposed as a medicine retailer complimented the blacksmith
"Take it, you might need it in the future," the old blacksmith cleaned his hands before pouring a cup of tea for the head of his household.
General Vangol glanced out to the streets. The place had just snowed, covering the streets and ancient residence in a blanket of white.
"Is everything alright?"
The old blacksmith shook his head in response, "Apart for this small store, everything else outside is not alright, and you know that."
General Vangol was confused, "I'm not sure what you mean?"
Old blacksmith hesitated for a moment, it seemed slightly inappropriate for him to have these thoughts.
"Why are those artillerymen of His Highness Prince still here in the Issenal Military Camp? Aren't they supposed to be on their way to join forces in Astonia?"
Hagrid let out a helpless sigh, "I've heard that it was because of the weather. Their cannons are easily affected by dampness, and it's been snowing constantly in the mountains."
The old blacksmith was not convinced, "If that's the case… what about Vielonna? The Red Tiger Cavalry has also been stationed out of town for about a month now if I remember correctly, but why haven't they went into the mountains?"
"They took over the defense of Serevan Palace. After all, the empire princess lives there, not to mention the Young Lady of Andrew House."
The old blacksmith looked at the head of his household in disbelief, "Do you really think so? In my opinion, Marshal O'Neil stations his artillerymen and a fully integrated infantry division in Issenal Military Camp because our House's' most loyal and fierce principal force is there. He assigns Red Tiger infantry division at Vielonna also because that is our base, the base camp of Hagrid! He now has control over both the lifeblood of our House, haven't you ever considered the intention behind his decisions?"
Hagrid shook his head rather nervously, "I know your concerns, but Marshal O'Neil and I have come to an agreement on that. It's just that he has yet to have full confidence in me."
Old blacksmith ignited the fireplace silently; he knew that the man's mind was set. "It doesn't seem to me that Marshal O'Neil actually regards the agreement with importance. His men detained Lady Boustead in Astonia, and we still have no clue what's happened over there!"
"Just take care of your own business!" General Vangol glared at the secret agent with impatience. The blacksmith had stepped over the line.
"Time's almost up!" General of the Imperial Guards glanced up at the sky and couldn't help himself but be worried again. "How's the situation at Sir Widelsbach's residence? Nothing unusual, I hope?"
Old man shook his head firmly, he was confident about his own affairs.
"Nothing unusual. The guest arrived on time and stayed in the residence throughout. Sir Widelsbach goes in and out of the house habitually. Otherwise, there haven't been any visitors to Berchtesgaden. You don't have to worry yourself with the military secret agents."
General Vangol still had his doubts. He fished the letter from his arm to inspect it again. "To be frank, this is what keeps me from sleeping. The Boustead House has always remained low-key in their affairs, which makes it suspicious that they have allowed my daughter to meet me."
On the other hand, the old blacksmith seemed to take no particular stand at this and chose to shrug indifferently, "Perhaps Miss Eva asked her husband to invite you over because she misses you."
"I'm sure there's more to that!" Hagrid kept the letter away carefully, "Boustead House must be really anxious, if not they wouldn't risk asking for a meeting. I once gave my word to them about Lady Teresa's safety, who knows if Marshal O'Neil would make the matter worse!"
"I still don't trust that young Andrew person," old blacksmith commented angrily.
"I know, but anyway, I have to go. I'm curious to hear what my son-in-law has to say!" The General of Imperial Guards rose to his full height, and the old man followed to send him to the door.
"You won't find a better craftsman in this area, I look forward to your return!" the blacksmith shouted at the general's receding silhouette.
General Vangol was a punctual man. As arranged, he rang the door to Sir Widelsbach's house right on midday. Vangol thought the housekeeper who opened the door for him looked somewhat familiar. He vaguely remembered having seen those sunken eyes and droopy mustache before somewhere.
"My Lord has left the house since early morning, but your guest is waiting for you at the dining room!" the housekeeper took the general's bearskin padded jacket, reeking strongly of a herbal concoction.
General Vangol walked along the corridor and turned into the dining room. Finally, he witnessed the already rotting corpse lying on a seat by the table. Hercules Hagrid immediately pulled out the short blade from his sleeve, and looked around to realize the housekeeper was already gone. The room was empty.
Maggots crawled in and out of the nostrils and mouth of the corpse. Every now and again one or two would lose grip and fall onto the dinner plate. A sense of unease accompanied Vangol as he entered the dining room. He could still recognize his son-in-law, and figured that he had been killed by that cut on his throat. The layer of skin around that pale wound rolled outwards. Similarly, it was flooded with maggots around foraged flesh.
In spite of the scented incense lighted at all corners of the room, Hagrid still covered his nose as tightly as possible.
"This is a trap!" this thought immediately came to the mind of General of Imperial Guards.
"Could you explain what's going on?" Countess Aeolia's voice appeared from a corner. Hagrid turned to the source of the voice and noticed an attractive lady surrounded by a group of brave and fierce Imperial Guard soldiers.
"Who are you?" General Vangol waved his short blade in the air.
"I'm the person in charge of Andrew Military Investigation Bureau's Secret Operations Office!" Aeolia made her way through the dining hall as she spoke. She covered her face with a thin veil, but the intense stench of rotting corpse still managed to knit her brows together.
"General Vangol, put down your knife! If we sit down for a discussion you'll discover that I'm not your enemy. If Lieutenant Colonel Mike hadn't recognized you earlier, I'm afraid my men would have had you tied up by now."
Lieutenant Colonel Mike stepped up from the crowd of soldiers, "Honor to meet you, General. I remember you. We've met before in Vielonna, twice."
"What is going on here? What are you all doing here?" Hagrid asked while still holding his blade up high. He finally recalled that this "housekeeper" was one of the officers of O'Neil Andrew Morisette's special combat force.
"As you can see, this is a confidential operation between Andrew Military Investigation and the Imperial Military Intelligence. We're here to arrest the stubborn resistance, but who would have guessed... that the person who showed up would be you!" Aeolia took a seat at the table casually, and motioned to Lieutenant Colonel Mike. "This operation is over! Contact the local judiciary to hang the body of Polco on the square, just tell them that we executed a bandit."
Several soldiers walked in immediately. Together, they removed the second master of the Boustead House from the seat and dragged his stiff body to the door.
Vangol Abberning Hagrid stood there with embarrassment as he watched his rotten son-in-law. Although he didn't actually like that businessman, Polco Boustead was still part of his family after all.
General of Imperial Guard couldn't restrain himself and threw his daughter's letter onto the table.
"Don't tell me it's not part of your plan! You knew beforehand that I would come for this appointment, didn't you?"
Aeolia smiled weakly, "General, we are here to arrest criminals who threaten the security of the empire. I can't help if you want to confess that you are a sinner!"
"Oh! Isn't this the guile of O'Neil Andrew Morisette?" It finally dawned on Hagrid, "You lured me into this bloody place, only to throw away the body that you killed once I entered the door. You are trying to forcefully breakdown the relations between me and Boustead House!"
Aeolia shook her head, "General, wouldn't you say… there's nothing wrong with that! With the assistance of Imperial Ministry of Justice and the Secret Service Department, the Military Intelligence Agency has issued an order to the Westland Kingdom Alliance. The core family members of Boustead House are criminals of the Empire, any act of asylum or protection to the criminals of Titan is a blatant challenge to our country."
"How did I not know about this?" General Vangol found this new information rather difficult to believe.
The Countess shrugged with indifference, "You don't have to doubt it, this is effective from the moment you stepped foot into the mansion."
Hagrid knew he had been completely thrown into the trap set by O'Neil Andrew Morisette. It seems like this young man had long been determined to eradicate the Boustead House.
"What about my daughter?" Hagrid pointed to the letter on the table, "This is my daughter's penmanship. She's now under your control, am I right?"
Aeolia, reluctant to come clean, simply waved her hand.
"You can rest assured that Eva is safe! However, she would probably be devastated if she knew that her father had murdered her husband in co-operation with the Military Intelligence Unit."
"You must be kidding me! It was you who killed Polco!"
"No!" the countess shook her head, "General, it was us! You and I! It was us who conspired Polco's murder."
"You must have thought about it, no?" Aeolia pointed to the letter on the table. "After we killed Polco, we used their wedding ring to gain her trust, and in pretence of being her husband we asked her to write you a letter. What awaits her is not her father's greeting, but the death of her husband. What would she think? The answer is in plain sight!"
"Although this in fact has nothing to do with you, you will exit this mansion together with our military special agents, and the spies in Berchtesgaden arranged by the merchants will witness it all. Polco's body is already on public display in the square! Most of the body might be badly rotten, but the merchants will still think that you have betrayed him."
"Hahaha!" Commander of the Fifth Military Region couldn't help but laugh bitterly. "Is this the conspiracy of O'Neil Andrew Morisette? What if I don't cooperate?"
Aeolia shook her head, "You have a son who is managing Issenal Military Camp. The artillery division of His Imperial Highness already has already zeroed in his bedroom. Another son of yours that presides over the routine work in Vielonna's Fifth Military Region is a regular guest of Her Imperial Highness Princess Alanis, and she often invites him to the palace for feast. As for Eva, who is currently in Kundera, is under the protection of one of my action units from day to night. In all, I think you should just cooperate with us."
"Forget it!" General Vangol waved his hand suddenly, "Now I understand the true intentions of O'Neil Andrew Morisette! Tell him that I had originally wanted to cooperate with him, but now... it seems like he will never let me off the hook! So if he's looking for a fight, that's what he'll get. Even if I die, Hagrid House's own army would not allow him to do as he pleases in the South."
"It's too late now, general." Aeolia shook her head softly, "You shouldn't underestimate my master. Do you think he will really fight with the Hagrid's army? Don't forget if this happens, it will only result in more battles in the South!"
Vangol contemplated for a moment. He knew that O'Neil Andrew Morisette had planned this for a long time, but... what other powerful means did he have?
Aeolia pointed to the glass of wine on the table, "General, you wouldn't know if the wine is poisoned unless you have tasted it. The survivor in the sentry post should have arrived in Dulin by now, and the Imperial Military Intelligence Agency will allow him to state what happened in the past in front of His Majesty Alpha III. Of course, a lower-level Imperial Guard soldier's confession is not enough to correct your accusation, but we also have a young lady from the Boustead House. Teresa is very obedient, and she has confessed to all the wrongdoings you carried out with the Imperial criminals!"
"Do you require any more reminders?" Aya removed the veil as the odor in the dining hall had dissipated. It was hard to believe that the person who secretly planned and promoted all this was actually a beautiful and attractive countess.
"Opening the border to foreign armed groups, plotting to assassinate imperial family members and descendant of Andrew House of the direct line of descent, affiliation with funders of armed bandits, exchanging information with the merchant class who conspired to undermine empire stability and judicial security! Do you know what these accusations mean?"
Hagrid stared at the wine glass in front of him. He couldn't help but think of the scene that happened in Severan Palace years ago. Although he was told that O'Neil Andrew Morisette was to expose that controversial issue, in fact he didn't see the witness himself, nor had he tasted the glass of wine. But he was lost and tangled in thoughts, and hence, he fell into the trap! Or maybe, it should be said that he had since fallen into a well-prepared trap the moment he followed the prince back south!
"These allegations mean that you will be sent to the guillotine for treason! The Hagrid House will be deprived of the honored armed forces and all titles and feudal estates. When that time comes, there is no need for my master to execute it himself. The emperor's special envoy will knock at your door and escort your family into Damorga prison."
Hercules Hagrid fidgeted with his fingers. He didn't know how to fairly evaluate the allegations against him, because he believed that even if he hadn't done anything wrong, O'Neil Andrew Morisette still had the ability to change the accusations into facts, not to mention that he and his House had indeed done those things.
"Say it... What are the conditions offered by O'Neil Andrew Morisette? " General Vangol leaned wearily against his chair. It occurred to him that he had already lost everything. Right now, he appeared like a bankrupt medicine retailer.
"You finally have it figured out!" Aeolia revealed a brilliant smile, "My master has only one condition, that is for Hagrid House to surrender their military power!"
General Vangol grinned and retorted, "I'll be sent to the guillotine soon, and he's going to get what he wants anyway! Let's not waste our time, I'll follow you back to Dulin for the emperor's trial."
"Don't try to fool me!" Aeolia's eyes turned cold, "You will never come to Dulin! Do you think that my master hasn't expected this answer? Will Marshal Alan not let his old friend be judged? The downplaying of this issue by him is inevitable!"
Vangol Abberning Hagrid felt bitterly disappointed. He couldn't understand how O'Neil Andrew Morisette, once an energetic little child, had now turned into a horrendous monster.
"According to His Imperial Highness' expectations, the emperor will be furious when he learns of your wrongdoings! However, he will not openly judge you because you have the protection of Marshal Alan. Even if His Majesty is aware that Alan is the mastermind behind the complicated issues. He still will not dismiss the commander of Imperial Guards because Alan is worth too much for him to give up! Hence... you have to act in accordance with the emperor's will to save your own skin, and your whole House!"
"In accordance with the emperor's will?" Hagrid was slightly confused, but he was also pretty surprised that he could discuss these things calmly with the people who were conspiring to murder him.
"That's right! In accordance with the emperor's will. In other words, in accordance with Prince O'Neil's will!" Aeolia threw an empty piece of paper at the General of Imperial Guards, "Write to His Majesty the Third and Marshal Alan, tell them your intention to resign from the post of commanding officer of the Empire's Fifth Region. Announce that Hagrid House will forever be discharged from the army, and the whole House will exile into Cecil!"
"Cecil?"
Aya grinned, "It's an island on the open sea of Italia, I heard it's famous for its scenic beauty."
Two special combat fighters stood on both flanks of the Commander of the Fifth Region. They prepared ink and quill for the imperial general, and took away his short blade. He no longer needed to use that weapon.
Vangol suddenly laughed at himself, "I think... I am probably the first nobleman in the world to apply for exile, eh?"
Aeolia pushed the quill forward in the general's direction, "General, don't waste any more time. You and your family will be safe at the completion of this letter. His Highness the Prince will send you an escort team to ensure you and your family a safe travel to Cecil Island after confirming this incident with His Majesty the Third. Perhaps you can start a medicinal business there, it suits you really well."
Hagrid ignored the sarcasm and picked up the quill, but subconsciously glanced at the clock in the dining room.
"Are you thinking about your guards?" Aeolia smirked, "From what I've heard... if you haven't walked out of the mansion in an hour, your elite fighters who followed you to Berchtesgaden will come in and rescue you, is this the truth?"
Hagrid remained silent. It didn't matter if this was the truth or not, the moment the other party speaks of it means that it doesn't exist anymore.
"Don't you worry!" Aeolia pushed the ink bottle near the general again, "It's not in our interest to do any harm to your guards, instead we will ensure your safety. Not long from now, the Boustead House will receive news from the spies, notifying them that the second son of their House has encountered an ambush at a meeting with you, cut open at the throat, and is now being displayed in the public! It seems highly possible that the angry old Boustead will then unleash his vengeance on you!"
Hercules's hand was trembling slightly. He was enraged, and simultaneously he felt a previously unprecedented embarrassment.
"Why are you still hesitating?" Aya grew impatient, "Do you really want all your people to be sent to prison? You really want the heroes of the Hagrid House to be killed by a fellow compatriot? As a soldier, you have lost everything! You don't have a single pawn left!"
In the end, although there wasn't a hint of flattery hidden among the handwriting of General of Imperial Guards, he expressed O'Neil Andrew Morisette's wishes with perfect accuracy. Aeolia blew at the wet ink on the official letter to speed up the drying process, and revealed a satisfied smile as she examined the Hercules stamp imprinted on the bottom of the letter. In the near future, this stamp would completely lose its meaning, as the large family was annihilated.
When Vangol Abberding Hagrid walked out of the official residence surrounded by military intelligence agents, he saw that the market in Berchtesgaden was occupied by the officers and soldiers of the First Military Special Combat Brigade. Even among them were his own guards. These loyal soldiers probably still had no idea what had just occurred.
The noble families of Berchtesgaden flocked to the streets at the news that soldiers from the capital and the Fifth Military Region of the Empire had executed a baneader. This was definitely something worth celebrating. They shouted Hagrid's name loudly while scattering the streets with blooming daisies.
General Vangol couldn't help but gasp in surprise. He then turned over to face the countess, "I think... I think I might not have the opportunity to meet O'Neil Andrew Morisette again, so please pass him a message on my behalf. Tell him that… he played the game really well!"
***************
"Thank you!" Oscar took the wild chicken from the soldier's hands with great joy and checked the eagle-feathered fine arrow.
"Did I really shoot that?" His Imperial Highness remained skeptical, "My archery skill has always been bad!"
"Marshal, even a blind hen sometimes finds a grain of corn!" Ghost Archer Mitchen comforted Oscar bluntly.
Sure enough, the face of marshal of Imperial Guards fell immediately. "Hey, you, commander of the archers, your words are too depressing!"
The soldiers in the mountains burst into laughter. They teased at their marshal, just compared to a blind hen, and ridiculed the wild chicken that had been called a grain of corn.
It had been more than half a month since the four reorganized group regiments under the First Brigade of the Military Special Warfare entered the mountains, but limited their operations to a certain scope. Luke Citel, the brigade commander, hoped that the soldiers would enter the battlefield after they familiarised themselves with the mountain terrain.
Oscar had no objection to this as he secretly enjoyed this bitter cold. The sun time in Alden Mountain was unusually short. It lasted for only eight hours or slightly more each day. The valley was even more beautiful when it was cloudy. Even with one's eyes completely opened it would be difficult to tell day from night.
The steep and precipitous terrain posed several obstacles to the special warfare fighters. Their military boots would get punctured by thorns the snow, and their horses would have difficulty moving in the snow pit. Of course, the most arduous task was in fact marching in the thick snow; there were no roads in the mountains, forcing the soldiers to shovel and clear a path with their bare hands. Owing to the numerous thorns buried under the snow, many soldiers tasked with clearing the debris ended up badly scratched and scraped. However, they would be fine as long as they picked out the spikes from their hands later. The soldiers of the First Military Brigade were as tough as iron. These hardships were but mere trivialities to them.
In order to keep warm, the soldiers forwent bringing armor into the mountains at all. They wore thick cotton-padded clothes, stuffed with cotton underneath. However, it proved to be of little use when the wind blew violently. The wind in the mountains which blew from the north was so very cold that it caused splits on the soldier's vulnerable ears, and bloody cracks on their lips. During meal times, blood would ooze out from these cracked, dried lips as the soldiers widened their mouth and chewed on food. That would make them appear like they all had large, fierce-looking mouths.
But fortunately, the soldiers usually put on their serious faces and would only grin briefly. In fact, they didn't wish to keep a straight face face all day long, but if they opened their mouths and laughed, it would only result in more bloody cracks on their lips. Therefore, they had resolved to not be jovial about anything.
If these afflictions were too trivial to be notable, then certainly the trench foot would deal the killing blow. Trench foot was a disease caused by frostbite. Soldiers infected with trench foot would develop fevers, convulsions, and that would finally lead to death. As a result, the brigade commander Luke Citel issued a strict order that, no matter how foul-smelling their boots were, they must be aired every day when the sun was at its warmest. If it was cloudy and snowy, damp cold socks were to be taken off and tied to the neck to be warmed up with body temperature. In short, keeping their feet dry was a priority.
The soldiers weren't there for a sightseeing tour. They didn't have time to admire the wonderful winter scenery or the snow-capped mountains. Even then, the scenery in the woodlands was all uniform to a fault. There wasn't a single obvious object that stood out in its surroundings enough to be used as reference. The scout team that walked out of the camp often lost their way, either getting stuck in a valley or arriving at a precipice without noticing.
It has become an unspoken understanding between soldiers regarding hiding places of the bandits. There might be an ambush in the snow pit, or ridges filled with traps, even in the open areas that looked unusually calm might have several snipers hiding in camouflage. However, none of this was a challenge to them. Passing on the fighting traditions of 8431, the veterans were educating new recruits who had only recently joined the special warfare.
"Be more attentive, and never linger your gaze in one specific spot. Search and examine thoroughly, inspect the path in front with your walking stick or scabbard before you step on it to avoid falling into another trap."
As they were on the topic of traps, one recruit spoke out his mind.
"Bandits are really experts in setting traps. The traps they planted are like our marshal's thousand layered cake, placed one layer after another with meticulous care. We can't move around simply once we step on one, because it's highly possible that we would kill our whole team."
At the mentioning of sacrifices, the veteran revealed his old scars to threaten the new recruits.
"Do you see these? This is what happens if you're fortunate, and those who've had their arms or legs amputated, those are really unfortunate. At least you're still alive now, so remind yourself to not do stupid things or try to be a hero! Remember, you're a part of a team, perhaps you might be able to save everyone's lives, but a stupid mistake can also get everyone killed."
To be precise, this last remark was the real tradition of 8431. No one was a hero, and no one was to do anything stupid. Special warfare soldiers were like double-edged swords composed of titles and ranks.
Today was no different from any drill troops they had since the past two weeks. Marshal of Imperial Guards, His Highness Prince O'Neil Andrew Morisette, crawled out of his comfortable quilt at the pressing of the bugle call. He dressed himself in a simple warrior's dress and covered his body with a lightweight wolf-skin coat.
As usual, he and his soldiers first checked the horses in the camp stables. The Marshal could not afford to not be anxious, because two other horses died of the freezing cold from last night. The horses were slaughtered and several pots of horse broth were sent for preparation immediately. Although the soldiers all felt a tinge of regret and pain at the loss, they closed their mouths tight after the horse broth was wolfed down their stomachs.
For the time being, wheat pancake and cracked bread had been the only food item served as breakfast. No one could complain, because even the Marshal himself was served only this. They soaked the wheat pancake and bread in the horse broth for some time, and added some salt to the mixture before forcing it down their throats.
The bloody smell of the slaughtered horses and the fragrant horse broth attracted the beasts lurking around the nearby forests, and the soldiers began to work. It wasn't their primary intention to come for a hunt, but food that landed near their mouths would turn out to be irresistible. By this time, the archers had occupied the highest point on the mountain, and the commandos would begin their siege from all directions. Their prey would usually flee into the crack between the two peaks, but the assault group which had occupied the crack would chase them up to the mountains. In the end, the archers on the hill would rush down and shower their prey with arrows. The soldiers' objective would then be completed, and they would return to the camp in delight with their loot.
Through the night, the seamstresses and chefs in the team would skin the game and distribute them to the soldiers the next day after air-drying. As the numbers of soldiers outstripped the supply, there were naturally some people who would have the privilege of this comfort. However, the chefs would bring the well-prepared wolf meat or wild boar and distribute a slightly bigger portion to those who were less fortunate. The other soldiers normally went along with the arrangement and didn't complain.
Today, the soldiers were in heated discussion about Marshal O'Neil and his hunt. They said that The Prince had actually improved his archery skills, but it was just that they couldn't notice it. Someone refuted by saying the Marshal's arrow was originally aimed to shoot Regimental Commander Mitchen, and mistook him as a wild chicken.
"Hahahahaha!" the soldiers broke out into laughter, but almost immediately their hands flew to their mouth as the vigorous laughing triggered the bloody cracks on their mouth. Regimental commander Mitchen of archers group came up to his soldiers and kicked at a few of them playfully. "Bastards, go bring back some leopard if you're real men, and stop sitting around gossiping!"
Hence, the soldiers dismissed themselves while they whimpered softly at the pain. Coincidentally, a leopard actually loitered around the campsite on that night. It growled constantly, so loud that the special warfare soldiers had to climb out of their sleeping space and shouted loudly at the mountains, "Shut up, you bastard! Or I will take you down myself when the sun rises!"
However, "Count LeFou", The Princess' pet, clearly didn't take the threat seriously. It knew that the men here liked it dearly. The young, chubby man who loved to tempt it with chocolate candy even removed the clamp ring around its testicles.
As he did that, Oscar told it to "be a man!"
LeFou nodded. Although it was unfamiliar with the overwhelming feeling that swelled from its lower body, it became accustomed to it after a while.
This evening was indeed wonderful for LeFou, who was once again a man. The atmosphere in the air conveyed a strong sensation of the opposite sex, and this made LeFou tremble with excitement. In spite of the soldiers' efforts, it went through the dense jungle filled with traps and chuffed loudly on a female leopard.
How beautiful that female leopard was, at least to LeFou. It also knew that this beautiful female leopard was young and healthy, and without much effort, LeFou became intimate with the other party. Soon they stopped yowling, and the forest finally returned to its calm state.
Oscar had trouble sleeping that night as he was roused many times through the night by the leopards' mating calls. He was thinking of putting the clamp ring back to LeFou again the next morning.
Church calendar year 799, 10th day of 1st month. It was yet another new day. The marshal got up late, and he only began to shave when the sun was slowly creeping up the sky.
The soldiers were all occupied with their own duties. Each group, each company, each platoon had their own responsibilities. Every part of this special warfare operated in an orderly and progressive manner.
At 1:30 pm, a fire arrow suddenly shot across the sky, above the mountain valley to the west of the camp. The fire arrow soared above with a screech, simultaneously halting every soldier in the camp. In all sorts of strange positions, they raised their heads at the same time to fix their gazes on the arrow as it hit its apex.
As the arrow fell to the ground, one of the soldiers finally shouted out loud, "Enemy incoming!"
"Approaching enemy! The scouting team issued a warning of an approaching enemy!"
The atmosphere in the camp of the First Brigade of Special Warfare, directly under the Titan Imperial Military Intelligence Bureau boiled up instantly. Each soldier unsheathed the knives in their hands, and the site broke out into a cacophony of commands and orders. Finally, their brigade commander issued a thundering command, and thousands of soldiers from the assault team rushed down the hill, into the side of the mountain where the arrow leapt.
Oscar walked out of his camp calmly, with face full of soap and a razor knife in his hand. The marshal pulled aside a fully armed guard that rushed past him.
"Did something happen?"
The soldier widened his eyes with excitement, "My Marshal! Fighting! We are fighting!"
Oscar shouted, "What are we waiting for? Where's my horse?"
The battle was already over when The Prince rushed to the scene with his massive horse. The Marshal, who had not fully shaved his beard, immediately threw an angry glance at his soldiers.
"What are you doing? Don't you know how to move above? Don't you know how to lure the enemy?" In short, the marshal meant to express that he hadn't even had a chance to show his hands.
Brigadier general Luke Citel could only shake his head and forced out a smile. He pointed to the bodies that had been lined up by special warfare soldiers, "You see, Marshal, there are only six of them. This is just the enemy's scouting team."
Oscar blinked his eyes and replied with disappointment, "Ola! I'll let you off the hook this time then!"
Later, when Colonel Sandinand, who had been engaged in guerrillas near the camp of The Prince heard about the matter, he brought along his own platoon back to the headquarters during dinner time.
This southern noble who, although was not of imposing stature but was strong and capable, met with the scouting team leader to carefully inquire about the entire incident in detail. He then suggested His Highness to examine the bandits' dead bodies once more. Oscar felt the idea was rather peculiar. His knights had already stripped off the bandits' bodies, what else could he possibly check for again?
Sandy replied that they had to open their stomachs to check what they had been feeding on.
"You deserve your nickname, Devil Sandy!" Oscar began to understand this assault commander better now.
Devil Sandy personally cut the stomach of the bandit. Even Diener Edward was amazed by his skill and technique; it was obvious that this was not the first time the young man performed such operation.
Sandy carefully examined the bandit's stomach, which was discovered to be empty with only some dark brown, ball-shaped objects. The regimental commander of the Southern Army's assault team was delighted at the discovery. He brought forward the small hard ball to the marshal of the Imperial Guard, but the stench almost caused Oscar to faint.
"Marshal, you don't have to frown at the sight, this is indeed good news! This is some partially digested tree bark, it indicates that the bandits' provisions have been exhausted again! In other words, it's time for us to retaliate!"
Oscar nodded at the explanation, and shifted his attention toward brigade commander Luke Citel, "What is your opinion on this?"
The latter turned to question Sandy instead, "Do you have any other concrete proof apart of this? We can't call for attack based on a piece of tree bark."
Sandy pointed to the nearby mountains, "The bandits can't maintain their upkeep with their provisions, which is why their actions have been at a stall. Otherwise, they would have continued to create trouble for us, and we would not be as comfortable as we are now. It would be very difficult for us to even get a good night's sleep."
Luke Citel nodded in agreement, as he was also rather surprised by the peace among the mountains. He had fought with the southerners before in the past, and those guys were indeed difficult to deal with, and they were as stubborn as donkeys. They would never give up without the battle coming to an end.
"I would rather you to give the command!" brigadier commander finally turned back to his Marshal.
Without hesitation, Oscar gave them the go-ahead, "Attack!"
The Alden Mountain area that was covered with snow all year round was shrouded in the darkness of night. The piercing cold north wind blew in gusts underneath the thin clouds, and the sturdy moon that lurked behind the clouds gave off a faint yellow glow.
An out of tune melody was playing faintly in the dark woods as the chilly winter light shone on the bed of a dried-up stream. On the mountainside, the special warfare members had demolished the camp and were now shifting places quietly.
One of the hardships of marching at night was the various kinds of crevices hidden underneath the snow. The pits covered by snow were likely to be bottomless, and the consequences of falling into one were naturally self-evident. Without objects of reference or lights, soldiers could only move forward by stepping on the footsteps of their teammates.
The guide sent to His Highness by the Southern Group was a bushy-bearded local man. This first lieutenant was an acquaintance of Brigadier General Luke Citel, and they had once fought side by side in this mountainous region.
The Brigadier General whispered a few words to the guide, and the latter nodded immediately at the request. The team turned in the other direction, but the other people in the team didn't seem to have noticed. These soldiers had not yet acquired the ability to discern directions in the absence of starlight.
Oscar noticed his surroundings and discovered they were following the direction of heavy branches of the fruit trees, which meant that they were heading west! The Marshal was a little surprised and he rushed to the front of the team to catch up with several regimental commanders.
"Aren't we heading west?"
"Yes, Marshal! We are going west!"
Oscar grew more puzzled, "But our destination is to the south!"
Blasky pointed to the front of the team, "The Brigade Commander said we would first visit our former comrades."
Oscar warmed his palms with his own breath, "Are you kidding me? This is not the time for visiting friends and relatives!"
The regimental commanders dropped their heads, and they all seemed to have a weight on their minds. Oscar realized that he couldn't ask anything out of these men so he hurried to the front. The troop suddenly came to a halt when The Marshal of Imperial Guards arrived at the frontline. It was here that gathered the best scouts of the special warfare brigade, and after the troops were completely still, the scouts dispersed into the nearby forest and soon returned with the news that the surrounding environment was safe without threats.
Oscar discovered that the mountains in front of him appeared a little different. To be exact, there seemed to have several strange bumps on the ground surface, was is possible that... "Is this a cemetery?"
"Yes, Marshal!" Brigadier General Luke Citel took off his hat, and pointed respectively to each of the bumps on the forest ground.
"That's Major Makowsky, that's Corporal Harley, that's Sergeant Susir, that's Second Lieutenant Leinner, I owe my life to him… that one over there is Sergeant Foley, and that's Lieutenant Colonel Basque..."
"What about this?" Oscar pointed to the most prominent grave.
"That's the Brigade Commander of 8431!" Luke Citel appeared to be cherishing a memory of his, "The General was seriously injured, so we carried him here. You see, we were so close to the mountain pass, but our brigade commander never made it out."
Oscar jumped off the horse and kneeled down to his knees in front of the warriors' graves. After finish saying the words of God, he rose to his full height in determination. "We will bring them with us when we come out of the mountains! Our heroes' sacrifices deserve to be commemorated with equally huge tombstones."
Luke Citel laughed helplessly, "Marshal, 8431 no longer exists. The military never even retained their military status. No one except us, the surviving soldiers, know about their names or the great things they did for our nation."
Oscar shrugged indifferently, "In that case... we will build for them a Monument of the Unsung Heroes."
"Monument of Unsung Heroes?" the Special Commander mumbled these strange words softly to himself, "It's a great idea! This way, the unnamed martyrs who died heroically for the Empire would have a final resting place!"
"That's right! We'll name it Monument of the Unsung Heroes!" Oscar nodded, looking at the bumps of soil in near and in distance.
"Give us your order, Brigade Commander!" Big Worm and several special warfare officers stepped forward together.
Luke Citel grunted coldly, "Command the army to light up the torches. Let us announce to the bastard wolves in the mountains: we are back!"
The one and only blacksmith's store in the whole town of Berchtesgaden was situated under the mountain ridge, where noblemen and renowned merchants gathered. Without fail, the sound of hammering coming from the blacksmith store would permeate the townsfolk's ears each day. However, today it was slightly quieter than usual. Since morning, the old blacksmith has been acutely focused on sharpening a short blade.
"It's almost done, take a look at this!" blacksmith handed the blade on the grindstone to the middle-aged man sitting by the door.
Vangol Abberning Hagrid took over the weapon to examine it thoroughly, gingerly sliding his finger over its blade. "Not bad!" the General of Imperial Guards who imposed as a medicine retailer complimented the blacksmith
"Take it, you might need it in the future," the old blacksmith cleaned his hands before pouring a cup of tea for the head of his household.
General Vangol glanced out to the streets. The place had just snowed, covering the streets and ancient residence in a blanket of white.
"Is everything alright?"
The old blacksmith shook his head in response, "Apart for this small store, everything else outside is not alright, and you know that."
General Vangol was confused, "I'm not sure what you mean?"
Old blacksmith hesitated for a moment, it seemed slightly inappropriate for him to have these thoughts.
"Why are those artillerymen of His Highness Prince still here in the Issenal Military Camp? Aren't they supposed to be on their way to join forces in Astonia?"
Hagrid let out a helpless sigh, "I've heard that it was because of the weather. Their cannons are easily affected by dampness, and it's been snowing constantly in the mountains."
The old blacksmith was not convinced, "If that's the case… what about Vielonna? The Red Tiger Cavalry has also been stationed out of town for about a month now if I remember correctly, but why haven't they went into the mountains?"
"They took over the defense of Serevan Palace. After all, the empire princess lives there, not to mention the Young Lady of Andrew House."
The old blacksmith looked at the head of his household in disbelief, "Do you really think so? In my opinion, Marshal O'Neil stations his artillerymen and a fully integrated infantry division in Issenal Military Camp because our House's' most loyal and fierce principal force is there. He assigns Red Tiger infantry division at Vielonna also because that is our base, the base camp of Hagrid! He now has control over both the lifeblood of our House, haven't you ever considered the intention behind his decisions?"
Hagrid shook his head rather nervously, "I know your concerns, but Marshal O'Neil and I have come to an agreement on that. It's just that he has yet to have full confidence in me."
Old blacksmith ignited the fireplace silently; he knew that the man's mind was set. "It doesn't seem to me that Marshal O'Neil actually regards the agreement with importance. His men detained Lady Boustead in Astonia, and we still have no clue what's happened over there!"
"Just take care of your own business!" General Vangol glared at the secret agent with impatience. The blacksmith had stepped over the line.
"Time's almost up!" General of the Imperial Guards glanced up at the sky and couldn't help himself but be worried again. "How's the situation at Sir Widelsbach's residence? Nothing unusual, I hope?"
Old man shook his head firmly, he was confident about his own affairs.
"Nothing unusual. The guest arrived on time and stayed in the residence throughout. Sir Widelsbach goes in and out of the house habitually. Otherwise, there haven't been any visitors to Berchtesgaden. You don't have to worry yourself with the military secret agents."
General Vangol still had his doubts. He fished the letter from his arm to inspect it again. "To be frank, this is what keeps me from sleeping. The Boustead House has always remained low-key in their affairs, which makes it suspicious that they have allowed my daughter to meet me."
On the other hand, the old blacksmith seemed to take no particular stand at this and chose to shrug indifferently, "Perhaps Miss Eva asked her husband to invite you over because she misses you."
"I'm sure there's more to that!" Hagrid kept the letter away carefully, "Boustead House must be really anxious, if not they wouldn't risk asking for a meeting. I once gave my word to them about Lady Teresa's safety, who knows if Marshal O'Neil would make the matter worse!"
"I still don't trust that young Andrew person," old blacksmith commented angrily.
"I know, but anyway, I have to go. I'm curious to hear what my son-in-law has to say!" The General of Imperial Guards rose to his full height, and the old man followed to send him to the door.
"You won't find a better craftsman in this area, I look forward to your return!" the blacksmith shouted at the general's receding silhouette.
General Vangol was a punctual man. As arranged, he rang the door to Sir Widelsbach's house right on midday. Vangol thought the housekeeper who opened the door for him looked somewhat familiar. He vaguely remembered having seen those sunken eyes and droopy mustache before somewhere.
"My Lord has left the house since early morning, but your guest is waiting for you at the dining room!" the housekeeper took the general's bearskin padded jacket, reeking strongly of a herbal concoction.
General Vangol walked along the corridor and turned into the dining room. Finally, he witnessed the already rotting corpse lying on a seat by the table. Hercules Hagrid immediately pulled out the short blade from his sleeve, and looked around to realize the housekeeper was already gone. The room was empty.
Maggots crawled in and out of the nostrils and mouth of the corpse. Every now and again one or two would lose grip and fall onto the dinner plate. A sense of unease accompanied Vangol as he entered the dining room. He could still recognize his son-in-law, and figured that he had been killed by that cut on his throat. The layer of skin around that pale wound rolled outwards. Similarly, it was flooded with maggots around foraged flesh.
In spite of the scented incense lighted at all corners of the room, Hagrid still covered his nose as tightly as possible.
"This is a trap!" this thought immediately came to the mind of General of Imperial Guards.
"Could you explain what's going on?" Countess Aeolia's voice appeared from a corner. Hagrid turned to the source of the voice and noticed an attractive lady surrounded by a group of brave and fierce Imperial Guard soldiers.
"Who are you?" General Vangol waved his short blade in the air.
"I'm the person in charge of Andrew Military Investigation Bureau's Secret Operations Office!" Aeolia made her way through the dining hall as she spoke. She covered her face with a thin veil, but the intense stench of rotting corpse still managed to knit her brows together.
"General Vangol, put down your knife! If we sit down for a discussion you'll discover that I'm not your enemy. If Lieutenant Colonel Mike hadn't recognized you earlier, I'm afraid my men would have had you tied up by now."
Lieutenant Colonel Mike stepped up from the crowd of soldiers, "Honor to meet you, General. I remember you. We've met before in Vielonna, twice."
"What is going on here? What are you all doing here?" Hagrid asked while still holding his blade up high. He finally recalled that this "housekeeper" was one of the officers of O'Neil Andrew Morisette's special combat force.
"As you can see, this is a confidential operation between Andrew Military Investigation and the Imperial Military Intelligence. We're here to arrest the stubborn resistance, but who would have guessed... that the person who showed up would be you!" Aeolia took a seat at the table casually, and motioned to Lieutenant Colonel Mike. "This operation is over! Contact the local judiciary to hang the body of Polco on the square, just tell them that we executed a bandit."
Several soldiers walked in immediately. Together, they removed the second master of the Boustead House from the seat and dragged his stiff body to the door.
Vangol Abberning Hagrid stood there with embarrassment as he watched his rotten son-in-law. Although he didn't actually like that businessman, Polco Boustead was still part of his family after all.
General of Imperial Guard couldn't restrain himself and threw his daughter's letter onto the table.
"Don't tell me it's not part of your plan! You knew beforehand that I would come for this appointment, didn't you?"
Aeolia smiled weakly, "General, we are here to arrest criminals who threaten the security of the empire. I can't help if you want to confess that you are a sinner!"
"Oh! Isn't this the guile of O'Neil Andrew Morisette?" It finally dawned on Hagrid, "You lured me into this bloody place, only to throw away the body that you killed once I entered the door. You are trying to forcefully breakdown the relations between me and Boustead House!"
Aeolia shook her head, "General, wouldn't you say… there's nothing wrong with that! With the assistance of Imperial Ministry of Justice and the Secret Service Department, the Military Intelligence Agency has issued an order to the Westland Kingdom Alliance. The core family members of Boustead House are criminals of the Empire, any act of asylum or protection to the criminals of Titan is a blatant challenge to our country."
"How did I not know about this?" General Vangol found this new information rather difficult to believe.
The Countess shrugged with indifference, "You don't have to doubt it, this is effective from the moment you stepped foot into the mansion."
Hagrid knew he had been completely thrown into the trap set by O'Neil Andrew Morisette. It seems like this young man had long been determined to eradicate the Boustead House.
"What about my daughter?" Hagrid pointed to the letter on the table, "This is my daughter's penmanship. She's now under your control, am I right?"
Aeolia, reluctant to come clean, simply waved her hand.
"You can rest assured that Eva is safe! However, she would probably be devastated if she knew that her father had murdered her husband in co-operation with the Military Intelligence Unit."
"You must be kidding me! It was you who killed Polco!"
"No!" the countess shook her head, "General, it was us! You and I! It was us who conspired Polco's murder."
"You must have thought about it, no?" Aeolia pointed to the letter on the table. "After we killed Polco, we used their wedding ring to gain her trust, and in pretence of being her husband we asked her to write you a letter. What awaits her is not her father's greeting, but the death of her husband. What would she think? The answer is in plain sight!"
"Although this in fact has nothing to do with you, you will exit this mansion together with our military special agents, and the spies in Berchtesgaden arranged by the merchants will witness it all. Polco's body is already on public display in the square! Most of the body might be badly rotten, but the merchants will still think that you have betrayed him."
"Hahaha!" Commander of the Fifth Military Region couldn't help but laugh bitterly. "Is this the conspiracy of O'Neil Andrew Morisette? What if I don't cooperate?"
Aeolia shook her head, "You have a son who is managing Issenal Military Camp. The artillery division of His Imperial Highness already has already zeroed in his bedroom. Another son of yours that presides over the routine work in Vielonna's Fifth Military Region is a regular guest of Her Imperial Highness Princess Alanis, and she often invites him to the palace for feast. As for Eva, who is currently in Kundera, is under the protection of one of my action units from day to night. In all, I think you should just cooperate with us."
"Forget it!" General Vangol waved his hand suddenly, "Now I understand the true intentions of O'Neil Andrew Morisette! Tell him that I had originally wanted to cooperate with him, but now... it seems like he will never let me off the hook! So if he's looking for a fight, that's what he'll get. Even if I die, Hagrid House's own army would not allow him to do as he pleases in the South."
"It's too late now, general." Aeolia shook her head softly, "You shouldn't underestimate my master. Do you think he will really fight with the Hagrid's army? Don't forget if this happens, it will only result in more battles in the South!"
Vangol contemplated for a moment. He knew that O'Neil Andrew Morisette had planned this for a long time, but... what other powerful means did he have?
Aeolia pointed to the glass of wine on the table, "General, you wouldn't know if the wine is poisoned unless you have tasted it. The survivor in the sentry post should have arrived in Dulin by now, and the Imperial Military Intelligence Agency will allow him to state what happened in the past in front of His Majesty Alpha III. Of course, a lower-level Imperial Guard soldier's confession is not enough to correct your accusation, but we also have a young lady from the Boustead House. Teresa is very obedient, and she has confessed to all the wrongdoings you carried out with the Imperial criminals!"
"Do you require any more reminders?" Aya removed the veil as the odor in the dining hall had dissipated. It was hard to believe that the person who secretly planned and promoted all this was actually a beautiful and attractive countess.
"Opening the border to foreign armed groups, plotting to assassinate imperial family members and descendant of Andrew House of the direct line of descent, affiliation with funders of armed bandits, exchanging information with the merchant class who conspired to undermine empire stability and judicial security! Do you know what these accusations mean?"
Hagrid stared at the wine glass in front of him. He couldn't help but think of the scene that happened in Severan Palace years ago. Although he was told that O'Neil Andrew Morisette was to expose that controversial issue, in fact he didn't see the witness himself, nor had he tasted the glass of wine. But he was lost and tangled in thoughts, and hence, he fell into the trap! Or maybe, it should be said that he had since fallen into a well-prepared trap the moment he followed the prince back south!
"These allegations mean that you will be sent to the guillotine for treason! The Hagrid House will be deprived of the honored armed forces and all titles and feudal estates. When that time comes, there is no need for my master to execute it himself. The emperor's special envoy will knock at your door and escort your family into Damorga prison."
Hercules Hagrid fidgeted with his fingers. He didn't know how to fairly evaluate the allegations against him, because he believed that even if he hadn't done anything wrong, O'Neil Andrew Morisette still had the ability to change the accusations into facts, not to mention that he and his House had indeed done those things.
"Say it... What are the conditions offered by O'Neil Andrew Morisette? " General Vangol leaned wearily against his chair. It occurred to him that he had already lost everything. Right now, he appeared like a bankrupt medicine retailer.
"You finally have it figured out!" Aeolia revealed a brilliant smile, "My master has only one condition, that is for Hagrid House to surrender their military power!"
General Vangol grinned and retorted, "I'll be sent to the guillotine soon, and he's going to get what he wants anyway! Let's not waste our time, I'll follow you back to Dulin for the emperor's trial."
"Don't try to fool me!" Aeolia's eyes turned cold, "You will never come to Dulin! Do you think that my master hasn't expected this answer? Will Marshal Alan not let his old friend be judged? The downplaying of this issue by him is inevitable!"
Vangol Abberning Hagrid felt bitterly disappointed. He couldn't understand how O'Neil Andrew Morisette, once an energetic little child, had now turned into a horrendous monster.
"According to His Imperial Highness' expectations, the emperor will be furious when he learns of your wrongdoings! However, he will not openly judge you because you have the protection of Marshal Alan. Even if His Majesty is aware that Alan is the mastermind behind the complicated issues. He still will not dismiss the commander of Imperial Guards because Alan is worth too much for him to give up! Hence... you have to act in accordance with the emperor's will to save your own skin, and your whole House!"
"In accordance with the emperor's will?" Hagrid was slightly confused, but he was also pretty surprised that he could discuss these things calmly with the people who were conspiring to murder him.
"That's right! In accordance with the emperor's will. In other words, in accordance with Prince O'Neil's will!" Aeolia threw an empty piece of paper at the General of Imperial Guards, "Write to His Majesty the Third and Marshal Alan, tell them your intention to resign from the post of commanding officer of the Empire's Fifth Region. Announce that Hagrid House will forever be discharged from the army, and the whole House will exile into Cecil!"
"Cecil?"
Aya grinned, "It's an island on the open sea of Italia, I heard it's famous for its scenic beauty."
Two special combat fighters stood on both flanks of the Commander of the Fifth Region. They prepared ink and quill for the imperial general, and took away his short blade. He no longer needed to use that weapon.
Vangol suddenly laughed at himself, "I think... I am probably the first nobleman in the world to apply for exile, eh?"
Aeolia pushed the quill forward in the general's direction, "General, don't waste any more time. You and your family will be safe at the completion of this letter. His Highness the Prince will send you an escort team to ensure you and your family a safe travel to Cecil Island after confirming this incident with His Majesty the Third. Perhaps you can start a medicinal business there, it suits you really well."
Hagrid ignored the sarcasm and picked up the quill, but subconsciously glanced at the clock in the dining room.
"Are you thinking about your guards?" Aeolia smirked, "From what I've heard... if you haven't walked out of the mansion in an hour, your elite fighters who followed you to Berchtesgaden will come in and rescue you, is this the truth?"
Hagrid remained silent. It didn't matter if this was the truth or not, the moment the other party speaks of it means that it doesn't exist anymore.
"Don't you worry!" Aeolia pushed the ink bottle near the general again, "It's not in our interest to do any harm to your guards, instead we will ensure your safety. Not long from now, the Boustead House will receive news from the spies, notifying them that the second son of their House has encountered an ambush at a meeting with you, cut open at the throat, and is now being displayed in the public! It seems highly possible that the angry old Boustead will then unleash his vengeance on you!"
Hercules's hand was trembling slightly. He was enraged, and simultaneously he felt a previously unprecedented embarrassment.
"Why are you still hesitating?" Aya grew impatient, "Do you really want all your people to be sent to prison? You really want the heroes of the Hagrid House to be killed by a fellow compatriot? As a soldier, you have lost everything! You don't have a single pawn left!"
In the end, although there wasn't a hint of flattery hidden among the handwriting of General of Imperial Guards, he expressed O'Neil Andrew Morisette's wishes with perfect accuracy. Aeolia blew at the wet ink on the official letter to speed up the drying process, and revealed a satisfied smile as she examined the Hercules stamp imprinted on the bottom of the letter. In the near future, this stamp would completely lose its meaning, as the large family was annihilated.
When Vangol Abberding Hagrid walked out of the official residence surrounded by military intelligence agents, he saw that the market in Berchtesgaden was occupied by the officers and soldiers of the First Military Special Combat Brigade. Even among them were his own guards. These loyal soldiers probably still had no idea what had just occurred.
The noble families of Berchtesgaden flocked to the streets at the news that soldiers from the capital and the Fifth Military Region of the Empire had executed a baneader. This was definitely something worth celebrating. They shouted Hagrid's name loudly while scattering the streets with blooming daisies.
General Vangol couldn't help but gasp in surprise. He then turned over to face the countess, "I think... I think I might not have the opportunity to meet O'Neil Andrew Morisette again, so please pass him a message on my behalf. Tell him that… he played the game really well!"
***************
"Thank you!" Oscar took the wild chicken from the soldier's hands with great joy and checked the eagle-feathered fine arrow.
"Did I really shoot that?" His Imperial Highness remained skeptical, "My archery skill has always been bad!"
"Marshal, even a blind hen sometimes finds a grain of corn!" Ghost Archer Mitchen comforted Oscar bluntly.
Sure enough, the face of marshal of Imperial Guards fell immediately. "Hey, you, commander of the archers, your words are too depressing!"
The soldiers in the mountains burst into laughter. They teased at their marshal, just compared to a blind hen, and ridiculed the wild chicken that had been called a grain of corn.
It had been more than half a month since the four reorganized group regiments under the First Brigade of the Military Special Warfare entered the mountains, but limited their operations to a certain scope. Luke Citel, the brigade commander, hoped that the soldiers would enter the battlefield after they familiarised themselves with the mountain terrain.
Oscar had no objection to this as he secretly enjoyed this bitter cold. The sun time in Alden Mountain was unusually short. It lasted for only eight hours or slightly more each day. The valley was even more beautiful when it was cloudy. Even with one's eyes completely opened it would be difficult to tell day from night.
The steep and precipitous terrain posed several obstacles to the special warfare fighters. Their military boots would get punctured by thorns the snow, and their horses would have difficulty moving in the snow pit. Of course, the most arduous task was in fact marching in the thick snow; there were no roads in the mountains, forcing the soldiers to shovel and clear a path with their bare hands. Owing to the numerous thorns buried under the snow, many soldiers tasked with clearing the debris ended up badly scratched and scraped. However, they would be fine as long as they picked out the spikes from their hands later. The soldiers of the First Military Brigade were as tough as iron. These hardships were but mere trivialities to them.
In order to keep warm, the soldiers forwent bringing armor into the mountains at all. They wore thick cotton-padded clothes, stuffed with cotton underneath. However, it proved to be of little use when the wind blew violently. The wind in the mountains which blew from the north was so very cold that it caused splits on the soldier's vulnerable ears, and bloody cracks on their lips. During meal times, blood would ooze out from these cracked, dried lips as the soldiers widened their mouth and chewed on food. That would make them appear like they all had large, fierce-looking mouths.
But fortunately, the soldiers usually put on their serious faces and would only grin briefly. In fact, they didn't wish to keep a straight face face all day long, but if they opened their mouths and laughed, it would only result in more bloody cracks on their lips. Therefore, they had resolved to not be jovial about anything.
If these afflictions were too trivial to be notable, then certainly the trench foot would deal the killing blow. Trench foot was a disease caused by frostbite. Soldiers infected with trench foot would develop fevers, convulsions, and that would finally lead to death. As a result, the brigade commander Luke Citel issued a strict order that, no matter how foul-smelling their boots were, they must be aired every day when the sun was at its warmest. If it was cloudy and snowy, damp cold socks were to be taken off and tied to the neck to be warmed up with body temperature. In short, keeping their feet dry was a priority.
The soldiers weren't there for a sightseeing tour. They didn't have time to admire the wonderful winter scenery or the snow-capped mountains. Even then, the scenery in the woodlands was all uniform to a fault. There wasn't a single obvious object that stood out in its surroundings enough to be used as reference. The scout team that walked out of the camp often lost their way, either getting stuck in a valley or arriving at a precipice without noticing.
It has become an unspoken understanding between soldiers regarding hiding places of the bandits. There might be an ambush in the snow pit, or ridges filled with traps, even in the open areas that looked unusually calm might have several snipers hiding in camouflage. However, none of this was a challenge to them. Passing on the fighting traditions of 8431, the veterans were educating new recruits who had only recently joined the special warfare.
"Be more attentive, and never linger your gaze in one specific spot. Search and examine thoroughly, inspect the path in front with your walking stick or scabbard before you step on it to avoid falling into another trap."
As they were on the topic of traps, one recruit spoke out his mind.
"Bandits are really experts in setting traps. The traps they planted are like our marshal's thousand layered cake, placed one layer after another with meticulous care. We can't move around simply once we step on one, because it's highly possible that we would kill our whole team."
At the mentioning of sacrifices, the veteran revealed his old scars to threaten the new recruits.
"Do you see these? This is what happens if you're fortunate, and those who've had their arms or legs amputated, those are really unfortunate. At least you're still alive now, so remind yourself to not do stupid things or try to be a hero! Remember, you're a part of a team, perhaps you might be able to save everyone's lives, but a stupid mistake can also get everyone killed."
To be precise, this last remark was the real tradition of 8431. No one was a hero, and no one was to do anything stupid. Special warfare soldiers were like double-edged swords composed of titles and ranks.
Today was no different from any drill troops they had since the past two weeks. Marshal of Imperial Guards, His Highness Prince O'Neil Andrew Morisette, crawled out of his comfortable quilt at the pressing of the bugle call. He dressed himself in a simple warrior's dress and covered his body with a lightweight wolf-skin coat.
As usual, he and his soldiers first checked the horses in the camp stables. The Marshal could not afford to not be anxious, because two other horses died of the freezing cold from last night. The horses were slaughtered and several pots of horse broth were sent for preparation immediately. Although the soldiers all felt a tinge of regret and pain at the loss, they closed their mouths tight after the horse broth was wolfed down their stomachs.
For the time being, wheat pancake and cracked bread had been the only food item served as breakfast. No one could complain, because even the Marshal himself was served only this. They soaked the wheat pancake and bread in the horse broth for some time, and added some salt to the mixture before forcing it down their throats.
The bloody smell of the slaughtered horses and the fragrant horse broth attracted the beasts lurking around the nearby forests, and the soldiers began to work. It wasn't their primary intention to come for a hunt, but food that landed near their mouths would turn out to be irresistible. By this time, the archers had occupied the highest point on the mountain, and the commandos would begin their siege from all directions. Their prey would usually flee into the crack between the two peaks, but the assault group which had occupied the crack would chase them up to the mountains. In the end, the archers on the hill would rush down and shower their prey with arrows. The soldiers' objective would then be completed, and they would return to the camp in delight with their loot.
Through the night, the seamstresses and chefs in the team would skin the game and distribute them to the soldiers the next day after air-drying. As the numbers of soldiers outstripped the supply, there were naturally some people who would have the privilege of this comfort. However, the chefs would bring the well-prepared wolf meat or wild boar and distribute a slightly bigger portion to those who were less fortunate. The other soldiers normally went along with the arrangement and didn't complain.
Today, the soldiers were in heated discussion about Marshal O'Neil and his hunt. They said that The Prince had actually improved his archery skills, but it was just that they couldn't notice it. Someone refuted by saying the Marshal's arrow was originally aimed to shoot Regimental Commander Mitchen, and mistook him as a wild chicken.
"Hahahahaha!" the soldiers broke out into laughter, but almost immediately their hands flew to their mouth as the vigorous laughing triggered the bloody cracks on their mouth. Regimental commander Mitchen of archers group came up to his soldiers and kicked at a few of them playfully. "Bastards, go bring back some leopard if you're real men, and stop sitting around gossiping!"
Hence, the soldiers dismissed themselves while they whimpered softly at the pain. Coincidentally, a leopard actually loitered around the campsite on that night. It growled constantly, so loud that the special warfare soldiers had to climb out of their sleeping space and shouted loudly at the mountains, "Shut up, you bastard! Or I will take you down myself when the sun rises!"
However, "Count LeFou", The Princess' pet, clearly didn't take the threat seriously. It knew that the men here liked it dearly. The young, chubby man who loved to tempt it with chocolate candy even removed the clamp ring around its testicles.
As he did that, Oscar told it to "be a man!"
LeFou nodded. Although it was unfamiliar with the overwhelming feeling that swelled from its lower body, it became accustomed to it after a while.
This evening was indeed wonderful for LeFou, who was once again a man. The atmosphere in the air conveyed a strong sensation of the opposite sex, and this made LeFou tremble with excitement. In spite of the soldiers' efforts, it went through the dense jungle filled with traps and chuffed loudly on a female leopard.
How beautiful that female leopard was, at least to LeFou. It also knew that this beautiful female leopard was young and healthy, and without much effort, LeFou became intimate with the other party. Soon they stopped yowling, and the forest finally returned to its calm state.
Oscar had trouble sleeping that night as he was roused many times through the night by the leopards' mating calls. He was thinking of putting the clamp ring back to LeFou again the next morning.
Church calendar year 799, 10th day of 1st month. It was yet another new day. The marshal got up late, and he only began to shave when the sun was slowly creeping up the sky.
The soldiers were all occupied with their own duties. Each group, each company, each platoon had their own responsibilities. Every part of this special warfare operated in an orderly and progressive manner.
At 1:30 pm, a fire arrow suddenly shot across the sky, above the mountain valley to the west of the camp. The fire arrow soared above with a screech, simultaneously halting every soldier in the camp. In all sorts of strange positions, they raised their heads at the same time to fix their gazes on the arrow as it hit its apex.
As the arrow fell to the ground, one of the soldiers finally shouted out loud, "Enemy incoming!"
"Approaching enemy! The scouting team issued a warning of an approaching enemy!"
The atmosphere in the camp of the First Brigade of Special Warfare, directly under the Titan Imperial Military Intelligence Bureau boiled up instantly. Each soldier unsheathed the knives in their hands, and the site broke out into a cacophony of commands and orders. Finally, their brigade commander issued a thundering command, and thousands of soldiers from the assault team rushed down the hill, into the side of the mountain where the arrow leapt.
Oscar walked out of his camp calmly, with face full of soap and a razor knife in his hand. The marshal pulled aside a fully armed guard that rushed past him.
"Did something happen?"
The soldier widened his eyes with excitement, "My Marshal! Fighting! We are fighting!"
Oscar shouted, "What are we waiting for? Where's my horse?"
The battle was already over when The Prince rushed to the scene with his massive horse. The Marshal, who had not fully shaved his beard, immediately threw an angry glance at his soldiers.
"What are you doing? Don't you know how to move above? Don't you know how to lure the enemy?" In short, the marshal meant to express that he hadn't even had a chance to show his hands.
Brigadier general Luke Citel could only shake his head and forced out a smile. He pointed to the bodies that had been lined up by special warfare soldiers, "You see, Marshal, there are only six of them. This is just the enemy's scouting team."
Oscar blinked his eyes and replied with disappointment, "Ola! I'll let you off the hook this time then!"
Later, when Colonel Sandinand, who had been engaged in guerrillas near the camp of The Prince heard about the matter, he brought along his own platoon back to the headquarters during dinner time.
This southern noble who, although was not of imposing stature but was strong and capable, met with the scouting team leader to carefully inquire about the entire incident in detail. He then suggested His Highness to examine the bandits' dead bodies once more. Oscar felt the idea was rather peculiar. His knights had already stripped off the bandits' bodies, what else could he possibly check for again?
Sandy replied that they had to open their stomachs to check what they had been feeding on.
"You deserve your nickname, Devil Sandy!" Oscar began to understand this assault commander better now.
Devil Sandy personally cut the stomach of the bandit. Even Diener Edward was amazed by his skill and technique; it was obvious that this was not the first time the young man performed such operation.
Sandy carefully examined the bandit's stomach, which was discovered to be empty with only some dark brown, ball-shaped objects. The regimental commander of the Southern Army's assault team was delighted at the discovery. He brought forward the small hard ball to the marshal of the Imperial Guard, but the stench almost caused Oscar to faint.
"Marshal, you don't have to frown at the sight, this is indeed good news! This is some partially digested tree bark, it indicates that the bandits' provisions have been exhausted again! In other words, it's time for us to retaliate!"
Oscar nodded at the explanation, and shifted his attention toward brigade commander Luke Citel, "What is your opinion on this?"
The latter turned to question Sandy instead, "Do you have any other concrete proof apart of this? We can't call for attack based on a piece of tree bark."
Sandy pointed to the nearby mountains, "The bandits can't maintain their upkeep with their provisions, which is why their actions have been at a stall. Otherwise, they would have continued to create trouble for us, and we would not be as comfortable as we are now. It would be very difficult for us to even get a good night's sleep."
Luke Citel nodded in agreement, as he was also rather surprised by the peace among the mountains. He had fought with the southerners before in the past, and those guys were indeed difficult to deal with, and they were as stubborn as donkeys. They would never give up without the battle coming to an end.
"I would rather you to give the command!" brigadier commander finally turned back to his Marshal.
Without hesitation, Oscar gave them the go-ahead, "Attack!"
The Alden Mountain area that was covered with snow all year round was shrouded in the darkness of night. The piercing cold north wind blew in gusts underneath the thin clouds, and the sturdy moon that lurked behind the clouds gave off a faint yellow glow.
An out of tune melody was playing faintly in the dark woods as the chilly winter light shone on the bed of a dried-up stream. On the mountainside, the special warfare members had demolished the camp and were now shifting places quietly.
One of the hardships of marching at night was the various kinds of crevices hidden underneath the snow. The pits covered by snow were likely to be bottomless, and the consequences of falling into one were naturally self-evident. Without objects of reference or lights, soldiers could only move forward by stepping on the footsteps of their teammates.
The guide sent to His Highness by the Southern Group was a bushy-bearded local man. This first lieutenant was an acquaintance of Brigadier General Luke Citel, and they had once fought side by side in this mountainous region.
The Brigadier General whispered a few words to the guide, and the latter nodded immediately at the request. The team turned in the other direction, but the other people in the team didn't seem to have noticed. These soldiers had not yet acquired the ability to discern directions in the absence of starlight.
Oscar noticed his surroundings and discovered they were following the direction of heavy branches of the fruit trees, which meant that they were heading west! The Marshal was a little surprised and he rushed to the front of the team to catch up with several regimental commanders.
"Aren't we heading west?"
"Yes, Marshal! We are going west!"
Oscar grew more puzzled, "But our destination is to the south!"
Blasky pointed to the front of the team, "The Brigade Commander said we would first visit our former comrades."
Oscar warmed his palms with his own breath, "Are you kidding me? This is not the time for visiting friends and relatives!"
The regimental commanders dropped their heads, and they all seemed to have a weight on their minds. Oscar realized that he couldn't ask anything out of these men so he hurried to the front. The troop suddenly came to a halt when The Marshal of Imperial Guards arrived at the frontline. It was here that gathered the best scouts of the special warfare brigade, and after the troops were completely still, the scouts dispersed into the nearby forest and soon returned with the news that the surrounding environment was safe without threats.
Oscar discovered that the mountains in front of him appeared a little different. To be exact, there seemed to have several strange bumps on the ground surface, was is possible that... "Is this a cemetery?"
"Yes, Marshal!" Brigadier General Luke Citel took off his hat, and pointed respectively to each of the bumps on the forest ground.
"That's Major Makowsky, that's Corporal Harley, that's Sergeant Susir, that's Second Lieutenant Leinner, I owe my life to him… that one over there is Sergeant Foley, and that's Lieutenant Colonel Basque..."
"What about this?" Oscar pointed to the most prominent grave.
"That's the Brigade Commander of 8431!" Luke Citel appeared to be cherishing a memory of his, "The General was seriously injured, so we carried him here. You see, we were so close to the mountain pass, but our brigade commander never made it out."
Oscar jumped off the horse and kneeled down to his knees in front of the warriors' graves. After finish saying the words of God, he rose to his full height in determination. "We will bring them with us when we come out of the mountains! Our heroes' sacrifices deserve to be commemorated with equally huge tombstones."
Luke Citel laughed helplessly, "Marshal, 8431 no longer exists. The military never even retained their military status. No one except us, the surviving soldiers, know about their names or the great things they did for our nation."
Oscar shrugged indifferently, "In that case... we will build for them a Monument of the Unsung Heroes."
"Monument of Unsung Heroes?" the Special Commander mumbled these strange words softly to himself, "It's a great idea! This way, the unnamed martyrs who died heroically for the Empire would have a final resting place!"
"That's right! We'll name it Monument of the Unsung Heroes!" Oscar nodded, looking at the bumps of soil in near and in distance.
"Give us your order, Brigade Commander!" Big Worm and several special warfare officers stepped forward together.
Luke Citel grunted coldly, "Command the army to light up the torches. Let us announce to the bastard wolves in the mountains: we are back!"
