The Irinian nobles were in a full-blown panic. That much, Remis could determine.

  Word had reached Penthreigin that the frontline with Sidonia had collapsed, and now, a Sidonian counterattack was pushing straight for the capital. It was the most serious threat to Irine in the better part of a century – The subjugation of smaller nations had never provoked such a large response.

  Still, this was certainly unorthodox of Sidonia. The Sidonians liked to advance only when they felt comfortable, and in one massive, unstoppable wave – But Remis believed that wasn’t the case this time. This tendency was illustrated in the fact that they had stubbornly held their ground with their 5th army for so long, remaining so idle, no doubt feeling that victory was unassured.

  Reports had already trickled in of something horrible advancing up the continent. Villages had been burned wholesale and their residents slaughtered. Harpies had escaped the coming Sidonian onslaught, and said that they had burned down the great forest north of Sidonia all the same.

  Remis would wager that’s how they got around the frontline – Through the harpies.

  “I’m here to speak with the Count.”

  Remis said before a command tent. He had made the journey here to the 87th’s parade grounds.

  “Right this way…”

  Remis stepped into the command tent, looking down upon a figure half his height, a frail thing by all accounts. It saddened Remis that this was Irine’s best general; Count Nariseer Barindough Iquaintseer.

  Nariseer looked up from the map, their expression turning innocent and childlike. “To what do I owe the best swordsmen of Irine, the Prince’s second, Sir Remis, a visit on this occasion?”

  A girly voice met Remis’s ears.

  Remis frowned upon seeing Nariseer. “I will again ignore your degenerate choice of attire in lieu of the situation we find ourselves in.”

  Despite the extravagant dress, adorned with lavender frills, that Nariseer wore, he was male; though no one would normally be able to tell that little secret.

  Sir Remis continued, “The northern theater forces and all our available reserves are massing near Penthreigin now. The Prince has given you the chair of command if you wish to take control and lead the defense.”

  “Hmph!” Nairseer broke out into a gleeful smirk. “A great vote of confidence, but it won’t be necessary.” Nariseer looked down at the map, and pointed to where they currently were. “The rest of the armies you’ve had waiting around up there will just get in the way, and they’ll need a bigger supply line.”

  “You’re saying you wish to move out now, and intercept the invaders quickly?”

  Nariseer nodded. “Well, that, and I don’t really have much faith in the, ahem, quality, of armies that are not my own.” Nariseer winked.

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  Remis sighed. It was a said but true fact that the 87th was the most veteran, best performing force that Irine had to offer. They had started off as a small detachment, but under Nariseer, claimed victory after crushing victory. Thus, it became the army that outstanding soldiers were sent to, and thus it ballooned into seventy-thousand men could stand toe-to-toe with anything.

  The 87th all had a girlish, lavender and pink color scheme, flying colored banners at the ends of the their pikes and painting stripes on their armor. It was all an effort by the men to show their loyalty to their general – Nariseer. They all had an almost manic loyalty to this end. This was most likely because of their faith in his abilities, but Remis didn’t know whether or not the crossdressing was a factor in it.

  “Well, if you’re already so set on it, I’m guessing you have a plan?” Remis crossed his arms.

  “Of course!”

  Remis frowned. Nariseer was famous for never revealing the inner workings of his mind, even to someone like Remis or the Prince. On paper, his demeanor and authority over an army would land him in a great position to stage a coup d’état, but Remis knew Nariseer would never do that. He did not fight for Irine. He fought for blood. He fought because he had a personal enmity against all things Nekomata.

  “Then I have one last thing to tell you. From all the evidence we’ve gathered, we believe that Alisson Vi Nuam is leading the offensive.”

  Nariseer put a finger against his soft cheek, pondering for a moment. “Very valuable information, thank you!” Nariseer bobbed his head graciously. “Knowing the enemy commander is a big step in defeating them! But I don’t really think there’s much to say about Alisson other than his sudden brutality…”

  Nariseer seemed to be lost in thought again, and Remis sighed. The Prince had hoped that Nariseer would accept the offer to take command of the combined defense forces rallying to the north, and crush Sidonia once and for all, but if Nariseer had deemed this the best choice, then so be it.

  “So then, is there anything you would want the rest of us to do up north?”

  Nariseer nodded. “Please make provisions for a great number of refugees. We must muster all the supplies we can, for both myself and for my coming strategy!”

  Remis deepened his frown. “You’re not intending to employ a scorched earth policy against Alisson, are you? No one is going to take well to a cowardly tactic like that…”

  Nariseer smiled gently as he looked at the map. “Many a fool denounce the victors as cowards once they have been outsmarted by superior strategy.” Nariseer looked up and locked eyes with Remis. “Please ensure the 87th has a stable supply line this time.”

  Remis sighed, and shook his head. “All this talk of supplies and logistics. Just defeat the enemy.” Remis growled. “I’ll never understand you generals.” With that, Remis left the tent, set on returning to the Prince’s side.

  ...

  “Knock knock!”

  I heard a manic voice call as something crashed through the door to my room.

  I was curled up on my bed when something moved in the darkness toward me.

  “You really gotta open a window or something in here!”

  She drew the curtains and I had to shield my eyes from the sudden light.

  “W-who are you?” I muttered, my voice unused to speaking ever since I’d last seen Alisson.

  “I’m Alisson's B-F-F! That means best friend!” She leaned in, “You can call me Louise!”

  Louise Alderon Salchyon!? The terrifying Demon of the battlefield? What’s she doing in my room? She beamed a cheery smile at me, her blonde hair reflecting the light of the sun.

  “Alisson told me to get you into fighting shape!”

  “He should be doing that himself…He’s my master…” I mumbled back.

  Louise shook her head. “Not anymore! He just left to go be a big smarty-pants general, so I get to babysit you now! He didn’t want you to get hurt, you know!”

  “He didn’t want me to get hurt…?” I repeated to myself.

  “Come on!” She hit me in the back roughly. “You’re going to join the 57th’s drills!”

  “I d-don’t use a halberd…”

  “That’s not important! Come on!”

  I was dragged out of my room against my will. It looks like be with Alisson’s friend for the time being…

  ***