Lord of Disease (JP-GL) 550

550: EX26. A Single Photograph

I had a single ‘photograph.’

It was an early one, from a time when the output spell for a memory image could only be used by a limited number of people and was expensive. That alone made it quite valuable in the history of photography.

But the value of this faded, sepia-toned photograph was not in that.

This was a short story, of how I, from an unknown soldier of the Dark Knights, had come to be called a war hero.

There had been a war.

A great war that had ended in the victory of Listrea, in the year four hundred and twenty-one of the Listrean calendar, almost a hundred years ago.

I was one of those who had participated in that war. A female soldier of the proud Second Army, the Dark Knights. Most had joined in admiration of the Dark Knights, but only a handful could wear that jet-black armor.

In that era, everyone had been frightened and anxious. The enemy was human. They had a vast territory, and we were absolutely outnumbered. A quagmire of a total war, where even a new recruit like me had been sent to the front lines.

But there had been hope. Even if we had been anxious, it had not been a situation of only despair.

One of the hopes was the Lord of Disease.

That hero and her subordinates had chipped away at the enemy country with a small number.

They had destroyed the trump card of Rank Kingdom, the Dragon Knights.

They had thoroughly crushed the maritime transport network of the city-state alliance and had made it dysfunctional.

They had dragged the symbol of the Holy Kingdom of Etrantal, the Order of Evangel, into the Lital Mountains in the winter and had annihilated them.

They had made the pride of the Perte Empire, the Imperial Guard, fight a grand battle among themselves.

Any one of them was a feat that only a hero could accomplish. And every time the news of those was reported, we had been in a frenzy.

We could fight!

We could win!

…Now, I, too, knew what those victories had been like.

The slaughter of ‘non-combatants,’ centered on the breadbasket, with even the Barghests deployed. The numerous schemes, using the ‘doppelgangers.’ It was the work of a heartless monster, a work that was too lenient to be called an evil.

In truth, even at that time, the truth of those had reached us, who were subordinates, in the form of rumors. But to us, that had not mattered. There had also been a rumor that her true identity was human, but to us young citizens, who had been intoxicated by her legend, it had been a trivial matter. Well, I had been interested in the true identity of the mysterious supreme commander, who had been wearing a hood and had been hiding her face with a mask.

If her race was different, would that tarnish her military achievements?

It was a little before the day of the decisive battle that I had learned that that rumor was true.

At the news that the Lord of Disease had returned, the camp had been in an uproar. I had learned it later, but she had destroyed the remaining forces of the thirteen city-states and the three great nations with a force of less than a thousand and had also freed the dragons who had once been under the control of the Dragon Knights.

We, who had gathered to see her, had seen… her, clinging to our leader, the Blood Knight, Bringit Finis, and sobbing. Pale skin. Short ears. —A black-haired woman. A human.

‘She’ had been the Lord of Disease.

I had trembled.

—A human? A human, to a human, to that extent?

No. —Was this person really human?

She had stopped crying and, as she was quietly enjoying her reunion with Bringit-sama, she had seemed no different from us. To my shame, that had been the first time I had seen a human. Her figure, in the attire I had been used to seeing in the bromides, was so slender up close—it would be a lie to say that I had not had a feeling of contempt.

And yet, the ones who had been standing behind her were all old veterans, with an air of absolute strength that even I, who was a new recruit, could see at a glance. I could tell, as if I were holding it in my hand, that all of those formidable warriors trusted her and were devoted to her.

As expected, a subordinate had had no opportunity to talk to the Lord of Disease herself, but I had had a few opportunities to hear stories from the members of the Sixth Army in the camp.

The subordinates of the Lord of Disease, who were mainly undead, had all spoken of their master with a great deal of enjoyment. I had thought they would just praise her, but they had sometimes criticized her, and sometimes they had spoken ill of her—and the one who had asked if she was a bad master, or if she was unreliable, had been glared at or had been laughed at. And they had all said, in unison.

“I am proud to be able to fight under that person”—and so on.

It was no wonder that she had been ranked number one in the post-war ‘ranking of the officers you would want as your superior.’

I had not, by any means, thought that my direct superior at that time, or the top, Bringit-sama, had been a bad superior. Now I knew that I had been very fortunate. But in that desperate battle situation, she had made not just one or two, but many veterans say such a thing.

It was no wonder that a young soldier like me at that time had dreamed of fighting under that person, at least once.

That person had been my idol, my hero.

So, the fact that I had asked for her autograph on a bromide… though it had been a youthful indiscretion, I thought it had been a natural thing. But we, who had been pressing in, had been hundreds. And she had had no time to sign for that many people.

Bringit-sama, with a troubled frown. I had been half-convinced of the outcome, that I would be reprimanded with a valiant voice.

But the Lord of Disease had laughed. She had taken Bringit-sama’s arm and, with a smile that was so radiant that it had made me forget her crying face from a moment ago—a peace sign.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t sign for everyone now! So, burn this into your memories. A two-shot of the Blood Knight and the Lord of Disease. —When this war is over, I’ll develop as many as you want, and I’ll sign them! And it’ll be on me!!”

We had cheered. It had been a thoughtful and stylish gesture. Bringit-sama’s peace sign had also been unexpected, but my chest had grown hot. I had been greatly relieved. I had also been able to clearly imagine what would happen after I had survived.

Before the decisive battle, that person had given a speech.

With an image of the ravaging of the human nations in the background, a speech that had cornered the humans. And in the middle of it… suddenly, that person had declared that she was a human. It had probably not been in the plan.

“You have made a human kill a human. How dare you make a human do this,” she had said.

And she had smiled and had said, as if to carve it into us, that we should never fight among our ‘own kind.’ That if we did, then we would become like her.

“There are no fools who would want to be like this, are there?” she had also said.

We had laughed. —Because we had all admired the Lord of Disease. And yet, in that moment, we had certainly been of the same race.

A battlefield where dark elves, and beastmen, and undead, and demons, and dragons had gathered together. That Itria had been my first battle.

“Now, let’s make this the last great war. Let’s make this the last war.”

That Itria had been my first, and my last, war.

“Today is the last day of humanity. The day a foolish race that killed its own kind will be destroyed. Let’s go and carve this day into history!”

As she had said, a speech that had been carved into history. Some of the words in between, the words that everyone had laughed at, had, for some reason, not been recorded in the history books.

And we had fought, and we had won. That was all.

…That war was not something that could be described in words.

And besides, the battlefield I had experienced had not been so long.

I had just advanced, as ordered, on a battlefield where magic and arrows flew, and I had clashed with a group of the enemy, and I had fought, in a daze.

Just do as you have been trained. I had repeated those words in my heart and had continued to advance, as if to follow the silver hair of the commander, who was charging with her sword held high.

I had cut down a few. And I, too, had been cut a few times. My chainmail had stopped it.

I had been caught in an offensive spell—probably a [Fireball]—and had lost consciousness.

…If my memory was correct, then I had a feeling that the enemy had unleashed an offensive spell on their own allies.

Perhaps I could say this because we had won, and because it was in the past, but I had no intention of hating those with whom I had crossed swords in that place.

That had been the only battlefield I had experienced in that war.