"Shake them off their feet and drag out the ugly worms that have infiltrated King's Landing. That's the plot.
Richard's grandfather's fingers traced a simple map of King's Landing. It only showed the big buildings and streets. Still, it was better than nothing.
The back streets of King's Landing, the inn. The old man said, keeping his voice as low as possible in a room he had set up. Perhaps it was because there was only a small amount of fire in the room, but his evil face seemed to stand out in the darkness. The darkness of the night caressed his wrinkles.
The surrounding Garristian generals listened with tense expressions on their faces. They seemed to understand that this was the last chance for them to meet each other alive if they were not careful.
The plot the old man had laid out was a clear one. At the same time as the sun rises, the Garristian and heraldic armies surrounding King's Landing will start a diversion. At the same time, fires are supposed to start spinning all over the capital.
"Run the troops, we've seen what they are. It's not an army, it's a herd. A herd collapses when the one who leads it dies. And once a herd collapses, it can't fight anymore.
So while the demonic soldiers were dealing with the ruckus. So while the demonic soldiers are busy dealing with the ruckus, the rest of us on the inside will kill their chief demon--a demon, in other words. Then the rest of the demons can be crushed by the army.
That was the general plan.
There were two ways to attack. The Garleist soldiers and the heraldic and Gazarian soldiers. One or both of them will raid the royal palace where he sits and cut off his head.
I couldn't help but throw my voice into the old man's cheek as he described the sequence of events. My teeth scraped lightly.
...... is easy to understand. I'm sure you've done all you can. You're free to work out the details, old man.
At the same time, I noticed that the other generals were looking at me. This is what I've been saying every time I speak, so I feel strangely uncomfortable.
Kalia had to rest her body, and Fialaat and Elddis had other things to do, so it couldn't be helped. I can't help but feel uncomfortable sitting in the Garleist army by myself.
After all, even though we've temporarily joined forces, there's still a certain amount of hostility that can't be hidden.
Besides, some of these people may have had their comrades killed by me at the Battle of Cirnio. Even though the army at that time was from the Cathedral, it included many Garristian soldiers.
That's probably why he divided the attackers into two groups.
They and we are different people now. Different ideologies, different births, different ideals, different ways of thinking.
We can be crowned the same. We can serve under a crown.
But they will never be compatible. Those differences can easily sprout on the worst of battlefields. And that's how you ruin everything.
You can't just hold hands because you want the same thing.
The old man opened his mouth, his eyes rising in the darkness. I could see his white teeth clearly.
"Yeah. He's a soldier now. No matter how many dangerous places we destroy, he'll always come out. Then the only thing left to do is to see them in person and destroy them with our own feet.
I shrugged my shoulders and nodded in response. Unknowingly, I rolled the chewed tobacco over my teeth.
That's what the old man said. Then there really was nothing more he could do, nothing more he could do. Even if there was, there wasn't enough time. We've piled up as much as we can. This is the limit.
Now all we can do is pray that our ankles don't get tangled up in the mire of inexcusability.
One of the Garristian generals looked at the map and spoke up, acknowledging Richard. It seemed to be a man of the rank of captain.
Battalion Chief. As far as I can tell, the area where the fire will spread includes the ...... royal palace.
I could tell that the man was having a hard time saying what he meant. Seeing as how the Garristian generals were all looking at the old man, it seemed that everyone was concerned about it, but hadn't said anything about it.
The old man replied as he should have. The beard on his chin wavered.
Don't worry about it. Some of these demons breathe fire. Some of them accidentally set themselves on fire in the fray, that's what happened.
Perhaps that's not the answer the man wanted. The old man knew that.
--Is it right to burn down a royal palace? That's probably what the man was asking.
A building built with years, gold, and technical culture. The current royal palace, which the previous king of architecture called a masterpiece.
Are we really going to burn it? The reason for the man's doubt and hesitation was clear. Seeing that the general was not convinced, the old man looked at me for a moment and then said in a slow tone.
"Hey, captain. Were you there at Cernio's?
Reflexively, my cheeks twitch.
Why did you choose that topic of all places, you old man? I can see that the eyes of the surrounding soldiers have begun to turn towards me. After all, even in this dark place, I can see them all.
Yes, sir. The man replied. Don't do that, it'll make me feel even more uncomfortable.
Leaving my mind behind, the old man puts his hand on the desk and intensifies his gaze. It was as if he wanted to glare at what lay ahead. It was almost demonic in appearance.
It was a voice that instantly froze his spine. The old man said in a strong tone, not even trying to hide the oppressive feeling oozing from his body. No, I think that's what he's trying to do.
The old man bites off each word as he says it.
For example, what if the Garlist and the Cathedral had sent all the troops they could muster at that time to the Battle of Sarnio? What if they had chosen to follow the lead of the Grand Army and crush heraldry at its core?
I don't have to think about it. The heraldry would have been crushed to death. 10,000 at that time was definitely the full strength of the heraldry at that time, and there was not even enough blood to go around.
And if they had been defeated in that battle, it would have been the end of heraldry at that point. The army would have been destroyed and the heraldry would have lost its centripetal force and control. It can never be rebuilt as an organization again. It must have fallen to that point.
The old man talked about it and then continued.
"In the end, we underestimated them. The Garristo, the cathedral. And so did I. That's why I lost. So I let them die. I'll never forget that mess on my account. Neither will you.
The old man said in a heavy tone and pointed at the map on his desk again. He pointed to the map on his desk again, his long used finger pointing to the location of the royal palace with a clatter.
The palace will be set on fire upon entry. That should be enough to take out a few hands. Look, if you hesitate even for a second, the people next to you will die for it.
Normally, they must know that. But I guess the situation and the place is the problem.
This is the royal capital, and even the home of many humans. If they were to trample and burn it to the ground, how could they not be perplexed at all?
At the very least, you'd be in much more danger than I was, born and raised in the back streets. After all, they were the ones who guarded this place until a few days ago.
The man who asked the old man a question nodded, his eyes wide and biting his teeth for a moment. I can't read any emotion in that.
I didn't say a word while he was talking. I felt I had no obligation or right to do so.
Afterwards, we went over the details briefly. But it was only about who would use which route.
When we were nearing the end of the conversation, the old man suddenly looked at me and said.
"So, how is Drigman the controller? Did you find a way to win, Lugis? No, how good was it?
He took a moist chew from his mouth and let his lips ripple.
There was a slight hesitation as to how to describe it. I was trying to think of the most appropriate words to describe it, and yet the best way to convey it to the people here.
There is at least one thing that must be said.
"It's just the way the myths go, old man. You may die, but you will not die. You can slay or burn but you can't kill or bring back to life. Is that what a witch should be?
What I have to tell you. It's not accurate information and it's not military might. It's that overwhelming threat.
The maniacal authority I felt at the time. The way it could kill you just by the pressure of your gaze. If you don't convey that, when Drigman's guy is right in front of you, the soldiers will surely cower.
Like a snake killing a frog with its gaze, they will be killed without being able to move.
"And like the Lieutenant said, he can distort the earth at will, even up close. That's the kind of blessing that spirits and fairies use.
Perhaps the Drigman was originally an elf or an elf-like being.
I don't know if he was infused with the blood of a demon and became a demon or if he just had the makings of one. But the blessing he used is the same kind as the one Erdis uses. There's no doubt that's where it came from.
That's terrible. They're doing whatever they want, this is their playground--they're going to win.
The old man's eyes look at me. His lips pursed as he continued.
"It's not a monster you can't get to. It'll die too. No one ever dies.
It's not out of the question. If you play your cards right, you'll be in time. And he's died once before. Then we can kill him.
I just need a little more information if I can. After all, we still don't even know his original identity.
First, his immortality. There's no doubt in my mind that he'll never die as long as his feet touch the earth. But not only that, when he first brought down the wall, and when he blessed the earth, he grabbed them from a distance.
What the hell was that? That's a lot of cheating. Spacing is almost meaningless with that thing. If you can do something like that, I would like to ask you to teach me.
The old man nodded lightly, and for a moment there was a lull in the conversation. There was a brief pause where no one spoke. A single, very young word came tumbling out.
"That's quite a lovely conversation you're having. Researching how to kill that lousy military elf? Savage, but good. I've thought about it a lot over the centuries. She and I never really got along. It's like we have different natures. Different ideals, I guess. Maybe it's just that we have different roots.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a reflection of pale eyes and white hair.