The Scattering Princess
“Y’know… this is getting kinda boring, isn’t it?”
Alicetia’s clones munched on snacks, chatting idly while lounging on cushions they’d looted. It was night, and they were resting inside the Treasury—but since clones didn’t need to sleep (or rather, had no problem skipping it), they stayed awake.
“I get you. With the Imperial Army holed up in the capital, their defense forces out here are barely one-fifth the usual strength.”
“Somebody should invent a curse that makes the Emperor go bald.”
“You need a piece of the target for that, don’t you?”
“Wait, uh… where are we again?”
“Some unknown fort’s nearby forest! Seriously, even the knights and Alicia don’t seem to know where this is. It’s not on the captured maps, either—so strategically or tactically, it must be worthless. I heard them call it a dumping ground for disgraced officers. Instead of demolishing the place, they probably used it like an exile.”
And so, the clones had blown up that worthless fort in spectacular fashion.
They had created plenty of new explosives—but testing them at the royal castle was impossible. If they tried, that terrifying lady known as Madame would subject them to the torture called “lady’s education.” On top of that, if Sylvia got caught in the blast, it would be a catastrophe. That was the only reason Alicetia held back. Truly, she could restrain herself. If not for Sylvia’s pregnancy, though, she’d probably be gleefully conducting massive detonation experiments in the royal gardens. The path to becoming a proper lady was long indeed.
“I wanna lay siege to the capital.”
Yeah, yeah! The clones raised their hands enthusiastically.
“Do you even know what forces we’ve got? With only fifty thousand strong Golem Legion, surrounding the capital’s impossible. Even the dumb Imperial Army would break through.”
Golems were being produced daily, their numbers just passing fifty-three thousand. Their army could move faster than courier horses, which left Imperial strategists pulling their hair out. By the time a report reached the capital, the golems were often long gone.
But aside from the heavy assault types, the soldier-class golems were… well, average. Honestly, they were pretty weak.
Normally, a golem meant endless stamina, a sturdy body, and strength to match. But Alicetia’s soldier-golems were biased toward wielding weapons well and having sharper wits than normal. In close combat, they were only about as strong as an Ostlandian foot soldier. At least they could drive off cavalry with a hail of projectiles.
“… Hmm. Maybe we could pull it off.”
“The capital is the continent’s biggest city. Fifty thousand isn’t enough—you’d need at least two hundred thousand.”
“We could call reinforcements.”
“Reinforcements, huh…? Arland’s army is half-ruined. Sure, if you asked, the entire population might come. But if more citizens die, when the real body wakes up she’ll lose it. Probably start ranting about wiping out the continent again.”
Any further loss of Arland’s people risked breaking Alicetia’s spirit. In her eyes, even soldiers were to be protected.
That said, the citizens themselves were nearing the breaking point. If Alicetia so much as hinted at asking for reinforcements, they would come willingly. Tension in Arland was razor-sharp. Good luck, siscon Crown Prince.
As for the real Alicetia, she was currently asleep… or more accurately, sedated for the regeneration of her mana circuits. Performing the secret rite while conscious was dangerously close to madness.
It was like having thousands of worms crawling inside your body at all times. Not even a draconian could endure it. Only because she was half-dead could she manage such an extreme technique.
“… But the Empire’s famous for being stingy, right? There’s a chance they never cleaned up after themselves.”
At those words, all the clones fell silent. It was true—the Empire was miserly. Unless they personally deemed something necessary, they refused to spend a single coin. Even if their people starved, if those people weren’t paying taxes, they’d abandon them without hesitation. In fact, at their worst, they’d seize what little wealth those people had left, figuring they’d starve to death anyway. (That kind of cruelty usually fell on conquered subjects classified as second-class citizens.)
“… Are we doing ‘that’?”
“It might work. If it goes smoothly, we could stage the world’s first siege of the Imperial Capital.”
“Alright, then who’s going to negotiate?”
Hands shot up in unison. Shortly afterward, a clone grabbed a mobility-type magic tool, stuffed other clones into her storage pouch (since clones weren’t living beings, they could be stored), and quietly slipped away from Alicetia’s army.
And since even the real Alicetia had long since lost count of how many clones were running around, no one noticed.
“Uh… isn’t the Princess missing a few?”
Alicia did look a little suspicious.
“Probably ran out of mana and disappeared?”
“Ahh, right.”
The clones smoothed it over with practiced words, and Alicia dropped the matter. Clones appearing and vanishing was nothing new, after all.
Thus, the Granzur Empire was about to pay the price for its past deeds—assuming the negotiations went well. One could only pray the other side was in a state where reason could reach them.
---
The next morning, the Alicetia Army set out again. By the following day, they had discovered an arsenal.
“… This place is weird. It’s like a fort inside a fort.”
Behind the outer walls rose multiple chimneys belching smoke. And in the very center, yet another fortress stood—literally a fortress encased within a fortress.
“This arsenal produces forty percent of the Empire’s weapons. If it falls, the Empire will take a devastating blow. For the record, I absolutely recommend we take it.”
One knight offered his advice.
“Why? Imperial gear sucks anyway. Plus, this place is obviously heavily guarded. Way more soldiers here than at any other city or fort.”
The arsenal’s defenses were clearly strict. Every other city or fort they’d hit had been shockingly under-defended. After stripping troops from across the Empire, its overall military strength was drastically reduced—that was why their blitzkrieg had been working so well.
But here, the soldiers hadn’t been pulled away. Numerous banners waved proudly. Troops lined the walls in full watch, keeping constant eyes on the outside.
“The ones inside are dwarves. Every dwarf in the Empire has been forced to work here.”
“… I see. Then we have to wipe this place out.”
Alicetia and the dwarves got along well. They were both artisans, both craftsmen who sharpened themselves by competing and sharing techniques. And precisely because of that bond, this fortress had to be destroyed.
“We’ll free the dwarves and send any who wish to Arland. Have the Air Force dispatch flying ships. Also, we’ll need to ask Master to handle the dwarves we’ve already sent over… For now, let’s hold a war council.”
Inside the hidden Treasury that had manifested in a forest outside the fortress, they gathered for council. For the clones, who had until now conquered cities and forts purely by brute force without a single war council, this was unusual.
“Judging from the fortress’s structure, their vigilance is directed inward as much as outward. Most likely they’re also wary of a rebellion from the dwarves they’re housing inside.”
A knight explained the situation. And he was right. Dwarves were stronger than ordinary humans, and since they were being forced to forge weapons, they could easily arm themselves. The central keep was clearly designed as a redoubt—if the dwarves rose up, the soldiers could barricade themselves inside and call for reinforcements.
“According to the intelligence division, if an external invasion occurs, they plan to massacre the dwarves outright to prevent them from being taken.”
Because Alicia was connected to the covert intelligence unit, she often received such reports quickly.
The Empire was prepared to slaughter the dwarves rather than allow them to be captured. Doing so would hurt the Empire itself, but in the central continent, dwarves and elves were endangered races. If they were taken, the Empire’s technology would instantly leak. This slaughter plan was a safeguard against that.
“In other words, before the outer garrison can kill the dwarves, we have to breach the walls and storm inside—then immediately liberate them, right?”
“Exactly. If we waste time with a conventional siege, they’ll butcher the dwarves.”
But siege warfare was normally a drawn-out affair.
“What would you do, Takuto?”
One of the clones turned to him. Takuto thought for a moment.
“Send in a small elite unit at night, force the gate open, then flood the place with golems. I could go myself if needed.”
With Takuto’s ability, it was possible. The power the goddess had concealed from the Holy Church until the very end—the true power of the Hero—was no trifling matter. And now that he wielded the Spirit Sword, his strength had grown further. That blade had been forged for the day the Hero was needed to protect the world. However, Takuto couldn’t fully control it. The Spirit Sword had been forged by the goddess and the Spirit King, imbued with two entirely different blessings. Only a Hero who bore both could draw out its full might. Takuto, chosen only by the goddess, could use half its power. But even half was enough to surpass Caliburn, ranked second among holy swords.
“Hmm… but I’d rather not send you, Takuto. That might provoke the Theocracy.”
The clone frowned. The real body disapproved of Takuto entering the battlefield, so the clones mirrored that protectiveness. Overprotective was exactly the word.
Alicetia didn’t want to lose even a single kingdom soldier to the Empire, nor allow her citizens to be threatened by it. Once she drew someone into her protection, she would never let go. It was a trait she had inherited from Iris.
“I think the Theocracy has already realized we’re siding with Arland,” Takuto said.
After all, they had sent countless pursuers after him. He knew better than anyone that the Holy Church’s intelligence network was the most formidable on the continent.
“True enough… Still, maybe it’s time we force the Empire’s hand.”
The Alicetia Army had been ravaging the Empire. But mere devastation wasn’t enough. They needed to etch the meaning of challenging Arland deep into the hearts of the Empire’s people.
The Emperor had cowered in fear, shutting himself inside the capital. Whether the vaunted Imperial Army, which once claimed dominion over the continent, could even be defeated in the field was now uncertain. And with the looming siege of the capital, it was intolerable that so many troops remained holed up there.
The clones wanted to make the Empire understand: if they didn’t sally forth to crush Alicetia’s army, worse calamities awaited.
“We need martial prestige.”
“Martial prestige…?” Alicia tilted her head.
The clone nodded. “The people of the Empire must fear us more. If they do, the Imperial Army won’t be able to sit idle in the capital. If their cohesion breaks, the Empire itself will collapse. Even if the Emperor cowers, the army won’t endure it.”
The Imperial Army wielded enormous influence and took pride in raising the Granzur Empire into a hegemon. Though they were sluggish now, occupied with reorganization, the fall of the arsenal that produced forty percent of the Empire’s arms would be a spark to ignite them.
“We’ll attack the arsenal head-on. Until now we’ve struck like scavengers, but this time we’ll crush the enemy’s regular forces in plain sight. If we annihilate them swiftly, the pressure on the Imperial Army will be immense.”
“There are two gates, east and west. We’ll split into two forces and strike both simultaneously. Break through the gates at once, free the dwarves, and seize the central keep. We’ll take this fortress in a single day.”
---
The next morning, Alicetia’s army appeared before the gates. Appeared was the right word—the Treasury-wielding clone had teleported them in, deploying twenty-five thousand golem soldiers at each gate.
Alarm bells rang. The gates slammed shut. Unlike doors that swung outward, these steel gates dropped down from above.
As the doors sealed, the garrison cheered. The gates were impenetrable. Once closed, opening them again was nearly impossible.
But no sooner had the cheers risen than dazzling light flared from both Alicetia armies. A sound like nothing they had ever heard thundered—so loud it sent horses inside the walls into a frenzy. The next instant, the gates exploded.
The soldiers were stunned. The gates, which no battering ram could hope to breach, were shattered into fragments.
“Advance.”
Ignoring the dumbstruck Imperial soldiers, the Alicetia Army surged forward through the blasted gates.
“As expected, the 88mm cannon is magnificent.”
It was the 88mm cannon that had obliterated the gates. One hundred guns, split between both armies, had fired in perfect unison.
Thus, the siege began—with the gates themselves blown apart.
What do you think about this chapter?
