Volume 3 Chapter 7 – The Polar Cross (Part 1/3)
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Kaede took deep, calming breaths as she stood in the dense patch of fog. She honestly couldn't decide if travelling by faerie path using the stone circles was better or worse than teleportation. Sure, the feeling of being flushed through a hole in the space-time continuum during Astral Teleport was extremely unsettling, but it was also over in an instant.

Meanwhile her recent trip of flying through the twilight forest at dangerously high speeds took several minutes to complete. It didn't help that Kaede had been forced through dozens of sharp twists and turns, all of which were done at the last second before she smashed headfirst into an ethereal tree. The entire ride felt like a rollercoaster running at hypersonic speeds. And by the time Kaede emerged, it took all of her self-control to not throw up on the spot.

...She probably would have too, had it not been for Sir Robert who pulled her out of the exit's way.

Several of the Princess' armigers facilitated the transit on the destination side. They quickly took the reins of any arriving mount -- most of whom had their eyes covered -- and pulled them away from the exit. Only the spectral Phantom Steeds came through normally. The mindless, magical evocations followed their casters' last order to keep going no matter how surreal the environment became.

In the meantime, Kaede could sense Pascal's helpless concern as Sylviane's labored breaths grew increasingly erratic.

The Princess stood just inside the stone ring. Her entire body surged with mana as she struggled to hold the portal open. She had been aided by Elspeth, who first opened the portal on the departure side. However the petite armiger had passed out from mana exhaustion earlier and had to be carried through by Perceval. This left the task of maintaining the arcane bridge which spanned thousands of kilopaces upon Sylviane's shoulders with only Hauteclaire for assistance.

It was then that the final rider emerged from the haze. Captain Larysa Ostrowska of the 3rd Reiter Support Company had waited until the column's end. Her hand held onto a Black Dragon banner that signaled the conclusion of the expeditionary force's transit.

"She is out!" Pascal cried the instant Larysa stepped clear. "Let it go!"

Heeding his call, Sylviane took a step back from the mist and severed her link to the magical portal. Then, as though her strings had been cut, she collapsed onto the grassy soil.

"Everyone made it through safely. You were marvelous." Pascal smiled encouragingly as he strode over to lend an outstretched hand.

Within seconds, the shimmering haze lost its otherworldly sparkle. The light mist that had engulfed the entire hill began to fade away.

"Thanks... to Elspeth," Sylviane huffed out in between gasps of air. "She poured... all her mana in... first, so that I could conserve mine."

"Perceval said she will recover in a few days," Pascal reassured. "She just needs rest, and so do you."

Sylviane gave a doubtful chuckle. She grasped his hand and allowed him to pull her up from the ground. Her exhaustion was apparent as she wobbled on her feet before leaning heavily against his side. Pascal then wrapped one arm around her to ensure that she wouldn't fall.

Nevertheless, the Princess did her best to look normal as she turned towards Colonel Hammerstein:

"Any report from the scouts?"

"Not much," the gruff colonel shook his head. "There's a long column of refugees moving down the road, escorted by a few squads of Avorican light horse. The boys who made contact could not understand the language. They're working to get their linguistic spells active and attuned."

"Remind them that half the people in Avorica speak only Brython, not even Lotharin," Sylviane added. "The nobles should speak enough Lotharin and Imperial to get by though."

"If there are any nobles left among them," Hammerstein replied with an oddly solemn voice. "Captain Müller had trouble just finding a sergeant."

It took a second before Kaede could realize what he meant: there weren't any nobles left because they'd probably all been killed.

She still remembered the discussions back at Oriflamme Palace. The Avorican light cavalry formations were highly-trained troops, some of the best offered by their kingdom. For these valuable units to be delegated to mere civilian escort duty, they must have been depleted to mere skeletons of their original strengths.

Then, as the mist surrounding their hill lifted enough to reveal the local 'road', Kaede finally saw what Colonel Hammerstein spoke of.

The familiar's keen sight picked out disheveled civilians shambling across the road barely a kilopace away. Their appearance was in stark contrast to the proud military men and women who had just arrived through the faerie paths. These refugees' clothing were worn down to dirty, tattered rags. Their feet were caked with mud from the rain-soaked trail. Their hair lay matted to begrimed cheeks that hadn't been washed in days. Even their faces were thinned by malnutrition as they wore dulled expressions laden with fatigue.

Yet despite their clear misery, the thousands of refugees marched on. Some still led children or carried what few belongings they could bring with them. Others barely dragged along their own two feet as they clung onto hope that they might still escape the invasion with their lives.

As her vision cleared, Kaede began to make out the scattered carts and wagons abandoned along the road. Many of them had simply fallen into a puddle of mud, before being discarded by owners who must have been too tired to pull them out. Next to some of them lay the ghastly remains of dead horses, their carcasses barely dragged off the road before they had been carved open for meat by starving refugees. Even now, she could see a desperate mother draining horse blood using a small cup, while her other hand held onto a pallid-looking baby.

"Welcome to Avorica." Sylviane muttered grimly from behind Kaede. She undoubtedly saw this same vision of filth, misery, and death, even if her sight held the blessing of less clarity.

The unsung casualties of war, Kaede bit down on her lips to quell her uneasy stomach. The inglorious reality that every belligerent's propaganda seeks to erase.

This view was the reason why Kaede strongly believed that only a defensive war could be a 'just' war.

"Colonel! Your Highness!" A signal officer called back after receiving a new Farspeak message. "A master-sergeant of the 7th Avorican light cavalry reports that Saint Estelle is currently leading the army. They're deployed just twenty kilopaces to the south in rearguard action!"

"Rearguard?" Sylviane stared back with a puzzled expression. Then, as she exerted herself to stand straight, she wondered aloud: "rearguard to what? Edith is the commander of this entire front! If she has the army with her..."

Sylviane then paused as her gaze fell upon the column of refugees that stretched north for as far as the eye could see. Her pupils began to widen with anguished disbelief.

"Damn that Edith!" The Princess fell to uncouth blasphemy as she gritted her teeth. "This is what happens when you send a 'saint' to fight a war!"

As if on cue, the rumble of explosions and spellfire from the south reached their ears. The battle had begun, and there was no doubt of its location as a blazing Trinitian Cross in bright cyan lit up the distant, cloudy skies.

The Polar Cross Oriflamme was renowned across Hyperion as the hero of the 3rd Trinitian Crusade. Idolized by the army and canonized by the Pope, Edith was among the few figures entrusted with one of the most powerful relics of the faith: one of the seven holy swords of virtue. Her moniker came from the personalized illumination spell that inspired all from across the Trinitian realm. It drew a horizontal cross in the sky that always pointed towards the Holy Land -- where the Dragonlord Hyperion sacrificed himself to save the world.

But in the pragmatic art of statecraft and war, a woman famous for her piety and virtue... wasn't necessarily a good thing.

"Armigers!" The Princess called out as wings of blue-white flames sprouted from her back. They barely missed striking Pascal's face as he dodged out of the way.

"Sylv, do not be ridiculous!" He almost shouted. "You can barely stand! Fighting a battle in your condition is impossible!"

"It's not impossible! It's essential!" Sylviane retorted as Hauteclaire's magic carried her aloft. "I need that army in one piece! Colonel Hammerstein!"

"Yes, Your Highness!?" The homely Colonel saluted as a ferocious grin lit up his face.

"Mount up and stay hidden a kilopace behind me. I don't want to show the Cataliyans our hand unless we have to. But if I give you the attack signal, then charge in and unleash hell with everything you have!"

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