Southern Crisis

"You bastard! Two years without a word—I thought you were dead!"

Walking briskly, Alatriste found himself on the receiving end of a hard punch to the shoulder from the commander of this important Imperial border stronghold. Then the man suddenly embraced him, leaving everyone nearby dumbfounded.

"It couldn't be helped. The Blood-Worship Cult in the west spread like wildfire. I was undercover for a long time, but I could never get close to their core. They..."

Alatriste stopped halfway through. The more one knew, the more dangerous it became. His old friend was already in a dangerous enough position; there was no need to add to it.

"I heard the Imperial police department smashed several altars, but they didn't seem to catch any real big shots."

Releasing his long-lost friend, Yusuf sighed. The vast Imperium was nowhere near as strong as it appeared, and those in power showed no sign of wisdom. The western world called their Majesty the "Sleeping Dragon," and it was hardly a compliment.

"Get on the train first. We still have to reach the fortress before dawn."

With the whistle's blast, the train slowly pulled away from the station and vanished into the night.

"I filed a report with the Ministry of Internal Affairs. I didn't expect them to send you."

Inside the luxuriously furnished carriage, the two sat opposite each other on soft sofas, sipping Kafiler from deep within the Land of Yellow Sands, a rich and fragrant drink that sharpened the mind.

"I volunteered to come."

A silver spoon stirred gently as Alatriste spoke unusually slowly.

"Besides me, no one else has ever been to that place."

"Did you read my report?"

"I did. Honestly, I was surprised too. That place is so ancient. Many people say it is the Godforsaken Land, and now such a change has suddenly occurred. God? Who knows."

"I've been stationed there for ten years."

Setting his exquisite cup on the tea table, Yusuf leaned back and sank into the sofa.

"From a lieutenant to a general, many people—including my soldiers—think I fear nothing there and know the place inside out."

"No one can do that."

"Do you know..."

With difficulty, Yusuf raised a hand and pointed to his own head, his voice growing low.

"...the scenes from ten years ago still often appear in my nightmares. I still fear that land, those things, like a coward."

"That is all in the past. You have more than a hundred thousand soldiers now, over a thousand Big Guns, and solid fortifications. You don't need to fear anything anymore."

"No, you're wrong."

Yusuf shook his head, his face painted with melancholy.

"Never. Those things have never given me any sense of security. Not even a little."

Threads of slightly chilly wind blew through the half-open window, stirring the thin gauze curtains like gentle hands teasing the flames enclosed within glass lampshades. They cast layer upon layer of shifting light through the carriage, and the two men's faces flickered between brightness and shadow.

"At least you have become honest. Not everyone can face their own fear."

"Now I only hope to do everything I can."

"That is why I came."

"Haha, to invite the Secret Guard's First Blade—I wonder whether I should feel honored or pray."

With a bitter smile, Alatriste set down his porcelain cup. He did not particularly like people mentioning that title. Because of it, he had endured no small amount of harassment from those young upstarts in the Secret Guard. Young people were always eager to compete; he was past that age.

"Don't mention it again."

"All right, all right. I know you don't like the title. But honestly, even now I feel conflicted. I hope everything is fine, yet I also hope this will not be settled so easily."

"No matter what, Aksum is one of the Imperium's most important military regions. Your worries are somewhat excessive."

"Are you sure?"

Sitting upright, Yusuf stared fixedly into the other man's eyes, anger on his face.

"Do you know that three months ago, the Ministry of Military Affairs sent a letter demanding the transfer of ten infantry battalions? Do you know that they plan to cut the northern defensive zone's budget by forty percent? Do you know that for an entire year, my soldiers have not received a single new rifle or uniform? Do you know that the Army Minister once sent me a secret letter telling me that the Ministry of Military Affairs could no longer afford enough discharge pay and asking me to trade military supplies on the black market?"

By the end, Yusuf slammed the table and shot to his feet. Even the guards outside the carriage were startled, lightly knocking on the door.

"General?"

"It's nothing."

He dropped heavily back onto the sofa, drained the remaining Kafiler in one gulp, and said nothing more. Alatriste, seated opposite him, was silent for quite a while before speaking softly.

"I know all of that. So what? Do you need to change defensive zones? I can put in a word with Zholin. He'll do me that favor."

"I will not abandon my soldiers!"

"Then your complaints are meaningless. What you need to do is prove the importance of the Aksum defensive zone. I believe that once Zholin understands, he will persuade the council and cabinet."

"But if the situation is more serious than expected, Alatriste, you know this. Aksum—especially the southern defensive zone—is still equipped according to assessments made fifty years ago. If the threat truly exceeds expectations, then I need time to move forces from the northern defensive zone south. I also need to build more fortifications and stockpile ammunition and food."

Hearing these demands, Alatriste tapped the tabletop with his index finger. He pondered for a long while before giving his answer.

"Then we'll do it that way. When we reach the fortress, I'll write Zholin a letter and explain your concerns."

"You've done me a great favor. Oh, right! Do you remember this?"

As he spoke, Yusuf pulled a stack of finely illustrated cards from a bookcase beside him.

"Of course. Fifty-four cards. I taught you."

"Let's hope your skills haven't gotten rusty. We'll use these to pass the time and send those troubles to hell!"

The train traveled onward, passing hills, grasslands, and wilderness. After a full day and night, it reached Aksum, the southernmost province of the Scale Kingdom, and finally stopped at Aswan Fortress, the core of the Orc Defense Line in the province's southern military district.

Aswan Fortress had been built in Year 10 of the Twentieth Era, eighty-one years ago. The earliest Aswan Fortress was a massive star fort, a tight defensive line composed of residential quarters, a main fortress, triangular bastions, breastworks, artillery batteries, and trenches. Its concave polygonal perimeter ensured that enemies attacking from any direction would endure fire from multiple sides. This fortress proved somewhat excessive for resisting the scattered Orks that constantly emerged from the Sinister Wasteland—until a large-scale Ork invasion in Year 41 of the Twentieth Era nearly breached it. Only then did the Imperium recognize the importance of this indispensable barrier. After all, Aksum itself had no natural defenses, and north of this arid province lay Glamatia, one of the Imperium's most important grain-producing regions. To keep the grain supply from being threatened, the Imperium began expanding the fortress on a massive scale at the beginning of the Twenty-First Era, adding many subsidiary forts and outposts. Aswan Fortress was expanded outward as well, though its main structure remained the original star fort. Thus, an isolated fortress became a tightly woven defensive line.

"Salute!"

"Play!"

To the sound of military music, Yusuf and Alatriste emerged from the locomotive with strange expressions. There was not a single senior officer from the military district to welcome them—only a priest, a pastor from the East Cain Church. Naturally, he was also an old acquaintance of theirs: Isihou, bishop of the Aksum Diocese.

"Gods! The Emperor's teeth! You—it's actually you!"

With a cry of delight, the bishop, dressed in splendid clerical robes, his body covered in fat and sweat streaming down his gleaming bald head, hurried over to Alatriste and tightly gripped his right hand with both greasy hands.

"Alatriste, we haven't seen each other in ten years!"

"Yes, same here. Say, is this really all right? As a devout Kaimon believer, you don't look as though you have practiced abstinence very well."

"Devotion lies in the heart. The desires of the flesh can better temper us."

"You're as witty as ever. Stop wasting time here and let me see just how serious this is."

After hastily ending the bewildering welcoming ceremony, Alatriste and the other two went to the watchtower atop the fortress, where they could clearly see the situation at the edge of the Sinister Wasteland.

"My..."

Although he had already seen the details in the report, Alatriste was still shocked. He had visited the Sinister Wasteland more than once. Before, one could clearly see the terrifying winds there, and there was an obvious boundary in the light at the wasteland's edge. Once one crossed that line, the merely scorching sunlight would become blisteringly hot. In a sense, it was a strange sight: separated by a single line, yet worlds apart.

But now, that line had vanished. The sunlight had become uniform again, and the visible winds had disappeared as well, as though the Sinister Wasteland had returned from another dimension to this world.

"Prepare water, food, and salt for me immediately."

Alatriste knew deeply that there could be no further delay. Such a drastic change would certainly alter the Orks' behavior as well. He was among the Imperium's foremost experts on these creatures; he could even speak a few words of Orkish. More than anyone, he understood their terror. They were by no means mindless Beasts. Their horrifying reproductive capacity, combined with their astonishing strength, often made him think that the Sinister Wasteland was some kind of prison built to confine these terrible beings. Now that cage was gone, everything would change.

"Yusuf, raise the combat readiness level to maximum immediately."

"I already gave the order."

"Isihou, what does the Church think? The Church strongly supported the construction of this fortress in the first place. I think it must know something."

"I have already reported to the Ecumenical Patriarch. The Sacred Hymns Choir received only one line of prophecy: the Beasts are about to rise."

"The Beasts are about to rise..."

Though the sky was clear for miles, Alatriste saw dark clouds gathering. War was imminent. With furrowed brows, he stared at the distant wasteland, considering countless possibilities without finding a single clue. The other two remained silent as well. The three simply stood there, looking into the distance in silence, the atmosphere exceptionally grave.

"General! The supplies are ready!"

After quite some time, a voice from below shattered the silence. Alatriste took a deep breath, then turned to Yusuf.

"I'm leaving now."

"Won't you rest for a while?"

"There's no time. I need to reach that place and settle in before dark. I hope it hasn't been buried by sand after all these years."

The three came to the fortress exit. By then, Alatriste had a tall backpack strapped to his back, stuffed with the supplies he had requested, and his black uniform had been replaced by yellowish-brown clothing.

"One month. If I haven't sent word after one month, deliver the token I leave behind to the Secret Guard. They will support you with everything they have. No matter what, you must ensure the defense line's safety. The Imperium cannot withstand any more blows."

After making these final arrangements, Alatriste headed toward the wasteland without looking back. The two watched him until he disappeared from sight.

"Yusuf, when we were still young, he was already like this. Ten years have passed. We have changed, but he is still the same. Could it be... the rumors are true?"

Rubbing his bare scalp, Bishop Isihou could not help recalling the scenes from ten years ago. At the time, he had only been an army chaplain, and Yusuf only a lieutenant. They had followed an entire elite force deep into the Sinister Wasteland to search for a lost sacred relic of the Three Witches Society, with Alatriste as the main leader.

Yet that expedition had ultimately become a disaster. Although they found the sacred relic, they were attacked by a large number of Orks on the second day of their return journey. Nearly everyone died. Only Alatriste led the two of them through the encirclement, and after enduring countless hardships, they finally emerged from the wasteland. It was because of this achievement that the two rose through the ranks like rockets, with the Three Witches Society's help being indispensable.

"The Fountain of Youth? You believe that nonsense too?"

Yusuf had always scoffed at such claims. Though he too found it strange that Alatriste seemed not to have aged at all, he would not seek out that secret. Everyone had secrets of their own.