"So who were the attackers?" Maria asked immediately as Zelda stepped back into the tent.
His expression was unusually grim. Without saying a word, he walked over and sat down on the bed, remaining silent for a moment. His eyes wandered toward the slight gap in the tent flap, through which the howling blizzard beyond could be seen, snow and ice dancing amidst the raging winds. Only after several seconds did his gaze drift back to her.
Maria frowned.
"Hey, I'm asking you something!" she exclaimed, a hint of annoyance creeping into her voice. "Don't ignore me like this!"
"They have been dealt with. That's all that matters," Zelda answered.
He had no desire to elaborate on his encounter with the Hero Party, or rather, the three members he had faced. Doing so would serve no purpose. More importantly, it would force him to acknowledge an oversight on his part. He had failed to account for the possibility that they had been observing him for far longer than he had anticipated.
Though he had since taken measures against further surveillance, the fact remained that the lapse had occurred. It was not something he cared to dwell upon, nor something he intended to reveal. Better to let the matter remain buried, much like the land beyond the tent, now hidden beneath layers of snow by the relentless blizzard.
Even now, he found it difficult to believe that he had forgotten such a basic distinction.
Divination magic was not the same as surveillance magic.
The former encompassed spells that transcended ordinary perception. Some allowed one to project a fragment of one's consciousness and observe the world from a higher perspective, as though looking down upon a board game. Others allowed one to commune with the stars and glean fragments of fate, whether one's own or another's.
Surveillance magic, meanwhile, was a lesser branch of spatial magic. By projecting one's consciousness into a separate dimensional space and bending space itself, one could create spatial mirrors capable of displaying events as they unfolded, allowing individuals to be monitored from afar in real time.
And simply because one possessed countermeasures against one did not mean those same protections would work against the other, unless they had been specifically prepared.
Such an elementary fact, and yet he had forgotten it.
How careless of the last Scholar of Luminar.
He removed his cloak and outer robes. The motion revealed a well-toned physique, drawing a faint blush to Maria's cheeks. Zelda noticed it, but paid it no mind. Sitting down on the bed, he removed his boots and cracked his toes one by one.
"There is going to be a change of tactics."
"Why so suddenly?"
She walked over and sat beside him. For a moment, he remained silent, listening to the muffled howl of the blizzard battering the tent walls.
"Have you ever played chess before?"
Maria nodded. She had certainly played the game before, usually with her siblings and, on occasion, with her parents.
"It's much the same here."
To Zelda, the world itself was a vast chessboard. Every kingdom, army, faction, and ruler was simply another piece upon it. Victory belonged to those who could predict their opponent's moves and adjust their own plans accordingly. One had to think several moves ahead, discard strategies that had become compromised, and devise new ones before the enemy could seize the advantage.
That alone was a demanding task.
It became far more troublesome when the opponent not only knew the moves available to you, but also the moves you intended to make before you made them.
Yet there was another truth that many failed to understand.
Those who believed themselves to be the players moving the pieces were often pieces themselves. They marched across the board believing they controlled the game, unaware that they were merely following the designs of another player seated at a higher table.
Kings, generals, heroes, and rulers alike could all become pawns in a greater game.
And he was no exception.
"So what's the plan?" Maria asked, crossing her arms.
"We march tomorrow, regardless of the weather."
Maria blinked in surprise.
"Hm?"
"The objective is no longer to seize the town."
His voice remained calm and matter-of-fact, devoid of any trace of emotion.
"We will kill, burn, and defile. We will make our presence known far and wide."
"Wouldn't moving openly be dangerous?"
"Perhaps," Zelda replied. "But there is little point in hiding anymore. Operating openly will grant us far greater freedom to maneuver."
Maria remained thoughtful for a moment before pulling the nearby table closer to them. She set her glass down and walked over to a nearby drawer, from which she retrieved a rough, folded sheet of paper. Unfolding it, she revealed a map of the town of Rodesia.
Returning to the table, she spread the map open before them. Then, picking up the glass once more, she placed it atop one corner to keep the paper from curling up.
"We originally planned to launch our assault from three different angles," Maria explained, pointing at the already marked gates on the map. "The northern, southern, and eastern gates. Their defenses are weakest there."
Her finger traced the routes leading into the town.
"Once we had broken through, we would force the soldiers stationed at the western gate to divide their attention and redeploy to the other three directions. Fighting on multiple fronts would weaken them."
She then pointed toward another route.
"Meanwhile, we intended to send in a fourth force, composed of the children, women, cooks, and other non-combat personnel. While the soldiers were occupied elsewhere, they would enter from the western gate and secure the town from within."
Without a word, Zelda conjured a bottle of ink and a feather pen. Dipping the nib into the ink, he drew a mark over the western gate.
"I will lead the assault personally," he said calmly. "The western gate will be blown apart, and the wall brought down with it. As for the other three forces, they will remain several meters outside their respective gates. Should the blizzard still rage by then, either the storm will claim those attempting to flee, or our forces will."
"But surely some soldiers will manage to escape," Maria pointed out. "And we would be sending aid to the fleeing townsfolk as well, directing them toward safe zones or escorting them to other settlements."
"Which is why I will cast a wide-ranging curse," Zelda replied matter-of-factly. "Under its influence, the soldiers will turn upon the townsfolk and upon one another. In our original plan, such a measure was unnecessary, as our objective was merely to capture the town. That is no longer the case."
Maria fell silent, mulling over the revised strategy and examining the map spread before them. After a moment, she voiced another thought.
"If I may, there is one more thing I have to criticize you for."
"And what is it?" Zelda asked.
"You are going all blood and gore. How about we deliberately spare the people fleeing through one of the gates? It would be an act, of course."
"Elaborate."
"You see, the escapees will naturally be terrified and in utter despair when they find themselves surrounded by an army of monsters. In such moments, people desperately cling to hope."
Her finger tapped one of the gates marked on the map.
"Those who manage to flee through this gate will, of course, believe they are about to die. Then I will appear among them, having followed after the refugees. In front of everyone, I will order the monsters not to kill them. I will openly defy your commands and tell them that if blood must be shed, they should kill me instead."
She paused briefly before continuing.
"There will be shouting, arguments, and all the other theatrics necessary to make it convincing. To them, it will appear as though I had turned against you for their sake."
A faint smile formed on her lips.
"And people are always eager to place their faith in a savior, especially when they have just looked death in the eye."
"Quite the ingenious idea," Zelda remarked. "However, I would suggest that it will only work if the blizzard has ceased by tomorrow."
Maria tilted her head slightly.
"Or you could simply clear the weather."
Zelda fell silent for a moment, considering the suggestion.
"Perhaps," he said at last. "I will."
Maria rose to her feet. Picking up her thick, fur-lined cloak, she wrapped it around herself.
"I will go for a walk outside."
With that, she stepped out of the tent.
A biting gust of icy wind greeted her immediately. Snow swirled through the darkness, blanketing the camp in white and reducing distant figures to little more than vague shadows. The cold was harsh, though not enough to threaten her life. The protective enchantment Zelda had cast over the camp dulled much of the freezing sting, leaving only a lingering chill against her skin as she walked into the storm.
Her gaze drifted across the camp. Undead soldiers and kobolds marched through the snow or stood watch outside various tents, their forms partially obscured by the raging blizzard. Each one bowed respectfully as she passed, a gesture she found herself enjoying far more than she cared to admit.
Eventually, her attention settled upon a nearby tent, where three female kobolds sat gathered with their children. One bore a long scar running across her left eye, another was missing an ear, while the third had lost a hand.
The children carried scars of their own.
Two young boys each limped on crippled legs. A young girl sat quietly beside them, her sightless eyes staring into nothing. Nearby sat two more girls. One had lost both hands, while the other was missing a leg and an arm.
And yet, despite their wounds and hardships, cheerful chatter and laughter drifted from within the tent. The warmth and joy inside stood in stark contrast to the howling blizzard beyond.
Curious, Maria decided to take a closer look.
Pushing aside the tent flap, she stepped inside.
The moment they noticed her presence, all three kobolds immediately dropped to one knee. Startled, they hurriedly guided their children into kneeling positions as well.
"Please forgive their insolence, Lady Maria," said the kobold with the scar over her left eye.
She gently pressed down on the shoulders of her two sons, encouraging the crippled boys to bow properly. Beside her, the earless kobold did the same with her two daughters. The third kobold rested a protective hand upon the shoulder of her blind daughter as the young girl lowered her head in respect.
"Raise your heads," Maria said gently. "Tell me, what was all that chatter about?"
"It's nothing, Lady Maria," the scarred kobold replied. "We were merely telling the children stories about your younger days."
"Oh?"
Maria raised an eyebrow in surprise. After a brief moment, she simply shrugged and found herself a seat among them.
"I am looking to pass the time as well," she said with a faint smile. "Go on. Tell some of those stories to me too."