Lord of Disease (JP-GL) 307

307: A Winged Serpent

The decision to make the Dark Forest the final line of defense had thrown the beastmen of the Third Army into a flurry of activity.

The call for volunteers had not been as successful as they had hoped. This was not because they were cowards. On the contrary. Most of those of fighting age were already in the Third Army, so there were few who had not yet joined.

And so, a common sight was that of a young man, trying to lie about his age to volunteer, being glared at and sent away by a veteran warrior. But they would also be told that if the regular army were to fall, then they would be the ones to take up the sword, to be the last bastion.

It wasn’t a lie… but the veteran warriors, both men and women, would grin, baring their fangs, as if to say, That won’t happen.

For the beastmen, strength was justice, and to be a warrior was an honor. There was nothing more important than honor and pride.

Therefore, of all the races, the beastmen were the ones who most disliked the methods of the Lord of Disease, which included targeting non-combatants. But that was because they cherished those who could not fight. The children, the elderly who had retired from the front lines. And the weak. Those who did not like to fight.

They sought strength because without it, they could not have survived in this northern land. They valued honor because without it, they could not have maintained their community in this harsh land.

And for the beastmen, who had been taught that to protect the weak was a source of pride, it was impossible to forgive the ‘earless’ who had invaded their land and were trying to exterminate the ‘demons.’

If it was a hunt or a training exercise, then to face the enemy with only one’s own body and weapons was the honor of those with the ears and the heart of a beast. But… if it was an extermination, then even the beastmen would sometimes use poison.

And—the packs that had clung to their pride and their pure blood had all perished in the south, a long time ago. The packs that lived in the north had accepted those who had fled from the south… though it had not always been a smooth process, they had even accepted other races, and they had mixed, and they had survived to this day.

This country was their pack. The long-ears, the undead, the horned ones, the winged ones… in the beastmen’s words, the dark elves, the undead, the demons, and the dragons, were all their comrades.

The only good earless was that crazy, heartless monster who called herself the Lord of Disease.

“—You want to follow her?”

Lathus, the Broken Fang, the strongest warrior, the leader of the battle-hungry beastmen, was in the magical beast stables.

His gaze was on Aithys, the red-haired cat beastman, in her flight suit, which she had been given by the Sixth Army. He looked at Catral, the black-haired cat beastman behind her, and she, too, nodded. The Aithys of before would not have had the foresight to consult with her direct superior before making a direct appeal to her leader.

“…You are a ‘griffin rider’ of the Third Army. You, and Leaf, are at your most valuable now. We only have eight griffins. Even with the twelve skeleton griffins from the Undead Army, that’s only twenty. At a time when we have to gather people and supplies from all over Listrea, I don’t want to lose a single one. —You understand that, don’t you?”

“I do. …No, I understand, Lathus-sama. But the Sixth Army will be engaging the enemy first. And at that time, whether or not we have eyes in the sky could change the course of the battle.”

“…I didn’t send you there to learn manners.” Lathus grumbled.

“I wasn’t sent there. But if I watch, I can learn a little politeness.”

“Hmph… the one who was so rude to a supreme commander from another unit.”

Compared to how she had been before, she was like a different person.

“I understand your growth. But. —Speak your own words, Aithys. Let me hear your reasons, your heart.”

The wolf’s eyes, sharp and piercing, glared at Aithys. She did not flinch, and after a moment of hesitation, she spoke.

“Leaf… is fond of her.”

“Huh?” He couldn’t help but blink.

Come to think of it, he had heard something like that, in the report after the joint operation with the Sixth Army. When he had heard that she ‘spoiled the griffin,’ that ‘she might be closer to Leaf than I am,’ he had thought it was a joke, but with that evil sorceress, he had been strangely convinced that it might be true.

“A griffin. To someone other than its rider. And a Barghest. Even though she’s like that. Even though she’s so… strange. And the transfers from the Undead Army, too. Samarkand, and Harken, and Rebecca… and Liz. They all trust her.”

She placed a hand on her chest. The flight suit, made for her. The flight suits given to trainees were usually hand-me-downs, and it was inevitable if they didn’t fit perfectly. If they were too far off, they could be altered, but it hadn’t been that bad. And to have one properly tailored for you was usually only when you officially became a griffin rider, or at least when you were the most promising of the trainees.

The supreme commander of the Sixth Army, the Lord of Disease, probably hadn’t known that. To give a flight suit to someone who was leaving, after their cooperation had ended… he didn’t think it was a calculated move. And to shout, with all her might, that she was the best griffin rider, to someone who was leaving.

“…Me, too.” She clenched her fist, as if to contain the heat within her.

“I think I understand what Eithys believed in. Let me go, Lathus-sama. Let me and Leaf… let us… be her wings.”

“…A winged serpent… huh? Have you ever heard of such a mythical creature?”

“…No.” She looked down, at his flat tone.

“I have.” She looked up, and Lathus was looking at her, his expression serious. And he pressed her.

“Is this more important than flying the skies of Listrea now?”

“It is the skies of this continent, is it not?”

“You have some nerve.” He grinned, his wolfish mouth twisting.

“Go.”

“Lathus-sama…!”

“She’s reckless… She’ll need a griffin rider. But promise me.” His expression turned serious again, and he pressed her.

“You will come back. And if it comes to it, you can abandon her.”

“…That’s… difficult. If it’s a last resort… I might. But until the very end, I… Leaf and I… will fly to save her.”

“You’ve really fallen for her.” He sighed.

There was no way Aithys, a proud beastman, would obey an order to abandon someone she had so completely fallen for.

So, he changed the order.

“Correction. Promise me. —No matter what happens, you will bring her back. And if possible, don’t let any of the people she’s with die.”

“! —I promise!!” Aithys’s expression brightened.

“Lathus-sama, Catral-sama, then I’m off! I don’t want to be left behind.”

She used Leaf’s outstretched foreleg to climb up to his neck, then swung herself into the saddle and fastened the harness. Looking back, he saw that her luggage had already been loaded onto the rear saddle.

“Hey, Catral, what about a letter?”

“I’ve given it to Aithys. That will be the fastest and most efficient, won’t it?”

“You expected this to happen.”

“Well, Aithys was serious, and we received a polite letter from the Sixth Army, reporting that her help was a major factor in the fall of Wessphia.”

“We did…”

“I’m off—!”

Leaf lumbered out of the stables and, in the plaza, he stretched his wings a few times, preparing for takeoff. Leaves and sand swirled, and with a shout, the others, who had been working, stopped and shielded their eyes, keeping their distance.

“Well then, I’m off to get one over on her!”

The lion’s hind legs pushed off the ground in time with the eagle’s wings, and they took off, defying gravity.

As he watched her figure grow smaller and smaller, Lathus muttered, “…What did she say she was going to do?”

“It sounded like she was going to play a prank on a bad friend.”