A straight riding ground roughly two chō long thundered with the sound of hooves as mounted archers galloped across it, bows in hand.
Bamboo fences enclosed the field. Beyond them, circular targets and straw bundles stood about two jō apart, arranged at five ken intervals along the course.
(*One chō ≈ 109 m, one jō ≈ 3 m, one ken ≈ 1.8 m)
They rode at full speed, loosing arrows into the targets as they passed.
The Rondonese riders were now running the course in reverse, drawing their bows with the right hand.
(*Normally the drawing hand is on the left. The Rondonese train to shoot with either.)
One rider after another burst forth, each loosing arrows that struck the targets in rapid succession. The sight was almost ceremonial—beautiful, even.
This was the training ground built southwest of the village of Rondo, in eastern Elisia.
Barracks, mess halls, and storage facilities had been completed one after another, and operations were already underway in parallel.
Civilian buildings had begun to rise beside the military facilities, and the area was slowly expanding.
Taverns and eateries for soldiers, along with the homes of those who worked there—already many people had started living in the region.
Before long, it would grow into a proper town.
The town had been named Ronaal.
Even the cavalry dispatched from the Elisia army had begun basic bow training, drawing toward targets ten jō away.
The Rondonese longbow had a distinctive curved shape. Measuring seven shaku three sun (roughly 221 cm), it was drawn with the arrow nocked about one-third of the way up from the bottom.
This allowed it to be used on horseback, fully utilizing the rebound power of the bamboo composite.
Its effective range was about one chō, and its maximum distance easily exceeded three chō.
With the introduction of this unit, it would be possible to move swiftly to any point on the battlefield and unleash long-range attacks from there.
A nightmarish unit was being born.
From the watchtower built beside the barracks, Kraitos, Aquinaes, and Clovis looked on.
“Those archers are terrifying… On the battlefield, they’d be an overwhelming presence—no one would dare get close.”
Aquinaes was visibly stunned.
“A tactic conceived by a seventeen-year-old girl has given birth to a monster. An astonishing force. At two jō, they already never miss—even with the right hand.”
In Kraitos’s mind, he could already see this unit sweeping across the battlefield.
“Will it make its debut as reinforcements for Reinstat?”
Clovis asked.
“Yes. It’s practically decided. They should be finishing the final paperwork in the capital about now.”
Kraitos answered.
“Still, scheduling it to coincide with Lord Farid’s unofficial visit… That man really doesn’t pull his punches.”
Aquinaes remarked.
The Governor-General of the Eastern Provinces of the Ashir Kingdom was visiting Elisia in secret, and they had concluded a covert pact against Tragia.
The personal letter Denaro had delivered contained the words “Let’s have a drink,” and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs had quietly arranged the schedule.
Denaro had deliberately overlapped that timing with the unofficial visit of Reinstat’s lord, Bernhardt Fidelius, and his youngest brother Darius.
In effect, a secret tripartite agreement was about to be sealed.
From Reinstat they had crossed the Elisia border right after sunset, slipping through the darkness toward Eris. Denaro had escorted them by carriage.
Then, early the next morning, the moment the city gates opened they had entered and been taken straight to the royal palace.
Denaro had handled the entire transport without a wink of sleep. The instant he set the VIPs down, he had collapsed on the driver’s seat.
Even he could not resist sleep in the end.
Just then, a rider in unfamiliar attire appeared on the riding ground.
Eastern continental style, perhaps—deep indigo garments, a chest plate only on the left side, and loose, billowing trousers.
Her long hair was tied back, and she was aiming at the target from two jō beyond the fence.
“Is that Sara?”
Clovis seemed to recognize her.
“It appears so.”
Aquinaes said.
She had quivers attached to both sides of her horse’s flanks.
Normally quivers were carried on the back, but Sara had fastened them to the horse.
In addition, she wore a large and small tachi at her waist.
(*Normally tachi are worn suspended.)
With armor added, she would be ready for war.
“Has she already been informed about the deployment?”
Aquinaes asked.
“Not yet. It’s nearly settled, but we’re waiting for word from the capital. Still, the unit is almost ready. The first battle will likely consist of fifty archers and a hundred spearmen. It will be the most aggressively offensive unit in our army.”
Half of the spearmen would be led by Clovis.
The other half would be under Sedi.
Sedi carried a bow despite being a spearman, so he could use signaling arrows to communicate.
When the archers and spearmen operated separately, they used whistling arrows called kaburaya as signals.
“I hear the eastern Tragia units also use longbows.”
Aquinaes said.
“So it seems. According to Denaro, they’ve revived ancient traditional tactics. About half their infantry use bows.”
“Half? Even at close range? That would be almost impossible to dodge.”
Kraitos nodded.
“I dug through old records. They were terrifyingly strong. Before the lines even clashed, the enemy’s front rank would be felled by arrows. They’d break through defensive formations with bows and spears, and even in melee they fought with bows, swords, hand-axes, and hatchets. Being a hunting people, they moved in small groups of three or so. Primitive tactics with no concept of battle lines… A strategist’s nightmare. They fight haphazardly, yet somehow they’re strong…”
At that moment, a cloud of dust rose from the west, accompanied by the sound of galloping horses.
Kraitos turned sharply at the noise.
Riders were approaching, and in the center of the group was a carriage.
The vexillum on the carriage was crimson with a golden national crest, trimmed in gold thread and adorned with tassels.
“His Majesty’s carriage!!”
Everyone hurriedly descended the tower.
Together they went to welcome King Helios.
The carriage door opened, and Helios appeared, followed by Farid, Fidelius, and Darius.
“Y-Your Majesty… what is…?”
Kraitos was so shocked he lost his words.
The training ground was supposed to be classified.
“My apologies, Kraitos. I mentioned I would inspect the site after the signing, and they said they wanted to see it too, so I brought them along.”
“I… I see…”
“So this is what you’ve been building…”
Farid said.
Fidelius was astonished—he had not known such a large facility existed on the eastern edge of his own territory.
“Can we go up the tower?”
Helios asked Kraitos.
“Of course.”
Kraitos led the way and gave instructions to the guards.
The tower—about four jō tall with a roof at the top—was fully secured.
Stairs wound around the support pillars. Guards lined the stairs, facing outward with shields raised.
The entire ascent was shielded.
Kraitos then guided the king and his guests upward.
From here the entire training ground could be seen at a glance.
The visitors were visibly impressed.
What caught their eyes most was the farthest riding ground.
The sight of riders galloping while drawing their bows was clear.
Fidelius was stunned.
They were shooting from horseback—and hitting the targets.
Tragians used bows on horseback too, but never with the right hand.
And the bows themselves were abnormally long.
“Is that right-hand shooting practice?”
Fidelius asked.
“Yes. When we considered mounted operations, we realized the right side was a weakness, so we’re training to overcome it.”
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Kraitos answered.
Dozens of riders took turns, spaced evenly, loosing arrows at the targets.
“It’s taking shape nicely.”
Helios folded his arms and stroked his chin.
“Yes. We currently have fifty Rondonese mobile archers ready for combat deployment.”
“Can they be sent to Tragia?”
“Yes, that is the plan.”
“That unit is coming?!”
Fidelius cried out in surprise.
“Yes. Since we heard the eastern Tragia army is primarily infantry, we’re considering cavalry reinforcements. That unit is included.”
Kraitos said.
For people who themselves used bows, the abnormality of what they were witnessing—and its terrifying combat potential—was even clearer.
“Getting close to that unit would be difficult… Even cavalry couldn’t handle them…”
Sara’s figure came into view.
“She is the one who conceived it.”
Kraitos pointed.
A young woman with long black hair tied back.
She was riding perpendicular to the course of the riding ground. She slipped her right foot out of the stirrup, hooked her thigh over the saddle, and loosed an arrow toward the direction of travel.
The distance to the target was about half a chō.
With a sharp kaan, the arrow flew and buried itself in the center of the target.
“Who is that girl?!”
Fidelius asked.
“She is Rona Sara. His Majesty bestowed upon her the title of Bow Saint. She is eighteen years old.”
“Eighteen…”
When Kraitos answered, Fidelius was speechless. Farid reacted to the name.
“Rona… the people from the east…”
Farid said.
“You know of them?”
Helios asked.
“Yes. More than eight hundred years ago, immigrants from the east settled in the mountain valleys of northern Hera. The steel they forged is recorded as Ronaal steel. To think they were still here…”
Farid stroked his chin, eyes following Rona Sara, when Clovis spoke.
“So it is called Ronaal steel. Quite the coincidence, since the town is also named Ronaal.”
“Hmm. This place is called Ronaal? It may well become the Town of Steel.”
Farid said.
“Indeed. They craft truly magnificent weapons.”
“You know of them?”
Farid showed interest.
“Yes—this.”
Clovis removed the tachi from his waist.
“May I see it?”
At Farid’s request, Clovis offered it with the blade side toward himself.
Farid accepted it, turned the blade upward, gripped the hilt, and drew it toward himself.
The blade appeared, and Farid gasped.
Compared to the short curved swords owned by the Ashir king, the unique striped pattern that emerged had a calm, almost refined beauty.
“How beautiful… It hardly looks like a weapon…”
Farid stared at the surface for a long moment.
Wood-grain-like ripples appeared, with a tempered edge showing various changes.
“You seem quite taken with it.”
At Helios’s words, Farid looked him in the eye.
“Of course… This steel is legendary in my country. Only one blade is known to still exist—owned by His Majesty the King himself. That is how highly it is valued.”
“You should ask a Rondonese smith. I hear both his sons have had blades made.”
Farid seemed captivated by Helios’s words.
He slowly sheathed the blade and returned it to Clovis with thanks.
“Are you certain?”
“It’s fine. We are allies.”
“I am grateful.”
Farid’s face brightened at the unexpected encounter.
Helios descended the tower to meet the soldiers still training.
The Elisia soldiers at the shooting range stopped their practice and saluted the king.
Helios thanked them for their efforts.
Sara and the others noticed the royal visit. They dismounted, led their horses, and headed to the range.
When Helios spotted Sara, he called out to her.
Sara slowly bowed her head and expressed her gratitude for the visit.
“It seems to be going well.”
“Thanks to you, everyone’s training is progressing smoothly.”
“Today we have guests. Allow me to introduce them.”
Helios introduced the visitors.
At the mention of Tragians, the group looked surprised, but Kraitos explained the situation and they accepted it.
When they heard about the salt prohibition, everyone frowned in sympathy.
“I saw your bow. Remarkable skill.”
Fidelius praised Sara.
“Thank you.”
“May I see that bow?”
Sara nodded and handed it over.
“It’s long… Longer than ours. What’s the range?”
“For hunting, I can reliably take game at about one chō. If just loosing it, it flies about three chō.”
Fidelius almost mentioned the sniper who had taken out the right-wing commander last year, but stopped himself.
“The material is unfamiliar. What is it made of?”
“It is a plant called bamboo. This bow is made by smoking bamboo for about a hundred years, sandwiching it with haze wood, and gluing the layers together.”
“The curve is unusual.”
“Yes. After gluing, we wrap it with cord and bend it while driving in wedges.”
“May I try it?”
Sara nodded and handed him an arrow.
Fidelius stepped onto the range and gripped the center of the bow.
“Lord Fidelius… grip it a little lower.”
Sara indicated the area just below the center, where the honeysuckle vine wrapping was.
“Quite low. What’s the reason?”
“It makes drawing easier, reduces recoil on release, and improves accuracy. It’s also easier to handle on horseback.”
Following her instructions, Fidelius gripped it as told, nocked the arrow, and drew.
When he released, a strange kan sound rang out, and the arrow pierced the center of the target.
“It draws so easily…”
“As expected of you. Excellent form.”
Helios said, watching the shot.
“Thank you. It truly is a fine bow. I almost want one for research purposes.”
“By the way, could you make me a blade?”
Seeing Sara flustered as the two older men pressed her, Helios intervened with an exasperated look.
“My apologies. I never imagined both of you would react like this. Sara, would you mind showing them around a little?”
Unable to refuse a request from the king, Sara led Farid and Fidelius to Addis’s forge deep in the spring.
Sara introduced the two foreigners to Addis.
He was surprised to hear they were important guests from abroad.
Farid spoke of Ronaal steel.
“That’s quite an old tale. I had heard some of them stayed in the area, but you came all this way just for that story?”
“Well, it was on the way while working.”
Farid answered honestly.
“And this brother here wants a bow. But it’ll take a month to finish one.”
Both men made slightly awkward faces.
“We had one made the other day, didn’t we?”
Aram’s voice.
“That one? But it’s only a prototype…”
Addis scratched his head.
“The finish is actually very good. The color turned out nice too.”
Aram brought out a blade.
The fittings were the same as usual, but both scabbard and hilt were pitch black.
He handed it to Farid.
It had a deep, glossy black lacquer finish.
“When iron powder is mixed into lacquer, it turns black. We twisted paper to filter it.”
Farid slowly drew the blade. A magnificent steel surface appeared.
On a rough, pine-bark-like grain, a fine straight edge had been tempered.
Farid stared at it as if time had stopped.
Seeing this, Addis smiled.
“You may take it.”
At his voice, Farid came back to himself.
“You may take it.”
Farid rejoiced like a child.
“For your brother’s bow, we’ll have to get one from the foot of the mountain.”
Addis began leading them.
“This is a token of gratitude.”
Farid removed the pouch from his waist sash and handed it to Aram, then hurried after Addis.
When Aram opened it, he found an astonishing number of unfamiliar gold coins with reliefs.
“Wait, this is…”
Aram stopped Sara and asked her to return the excess.
Sara looked inside, was shocked, glanced at her brother, and chased after Farid.
When she called out and explained it was too much, Farid laughed and said,
“That blade is worth that much to me. Please accept it.”
Sara was stunned.
There were at least twenty coins inside.
She gratefully accepted.
Around the forge at the foot of the mountain, craftsmen of all kinds worked—woodworkers, leatherworkers, clothiers—producing daily goods and weapons alike.
Those specializing in weapons had moved to the new forge by the southern training ground, but bows were still made here.
“Hey, old master!”
At Addis’s call, an elderly woodworker replied.
“Hmm? Addis? What’s this, bringing guests?”
Noticing the unfamiliar men, he asked.
“This gentleman wants one of your bows. Got any finished ones?”
“I do, but they’re ordered for the training ground.”
“Could you spare one? They came all the way from abroad.”
“Well now, that’s quite the journey. Can’t be helped—take the one hanging there.”
“Thanks, old master.”
“It’s fine, I’ve got time on the deadline.”
Addis took down a bow without a string.
Seeing its shape, Fidelius was surprised.
“It bends this much?”
“Yes.”
“It looks completely different from the one I saw earlier.”
“Yes, this is called a reflex bow. It curves opposite to the side the string is on.”
Addis placed the tip against a board on the wall, slowly pressed the handle, and strung it.
He then handed it to Fidelius.
“So you bend it like that when gluing…”
“You should practice stringing and unstringing it.”
Addis taught Fidelius how to string the bow.
“Thank you for looking after my brother.”
A slim man who had been quietly watching his brother spoke to Sara.
“No, it was rather sudden…”
“This is a token of thanks. Please accept it.”
Darius handed her a pouch.
A painful-looking bruise was visible at his cuff, but Sara said nothing about it. She met his eyes and smiled.
“Thank you.”
In her heart, Sara was overwhelmed.
She had received an enormous sum for just two weapons.
“You’re so young, yet you possess such wonderful skill.”
“Thank you. I’ve been learning from my master since I was ten, so this is all I have…”
“Magnificent. In my city we also have female warriors like you—though they’re a bit rougher.”
“Is that so? I’m glad to hear there are others.”
“If you ever have the chance, you should talk with them. They would be amazed by your skill.”
“If the opportunity arises, I’d love to!”
Darius smiled.
Each having obtained what they desired, the royal party returned to the capital.
Afterward, Farid headed from Elvinas to Hera, while Fidelius and Darius left Eris late at night and returned to their own territories.
Around the time the royal party left Ronaal, Kraitos stopped Sara and said he had something to discuss, leading her to the barracks.
He offered her a chair and sat down himself.
“Thank you for today. The guests seemed very satisfied.”
“Not at all. I’m sorry I was a little flustered.”
“It couldn’t be helped… I didn’t expect the guests to come along either, so I was surprised too.”
A knock sounded at the door, and a guard brought tea.
“His Majesty mentioned it briefly earlier, but today the eastern lords of Tragia, the Governor-General of Ashir’s Eastern Provinces, and our kingdom concluded a secret military pact against the Tragia Empire.”
Sara nodded.
“There is history between us, but we are now allies. Your attitude was flawless—in fact, it was excellent hospitality. Please continue to handle things this way.”
“Understood.”
“What I wanted to tell you is that in one month, four lords in eastern Tragia will raise the banner of rebellion against the Imperial Emperor. Our kingdom will send reinforcements—eight thousand, all cavalry. Your mounted unit will be deployed. This will be its first real combat operation.”
Sara’s eyes changed.
They were calm and steady.
The atmosphere around her was so different from before that one might wonder what had happened.
“I look forward to seeing the results of your training.”
“Understood.”
“By the way, that outfit is new.”
“Yes. There were… various circumstances. The other day the village shrine maiden recognized me as the successor to our sword techniques and gave it to me. It’s eastern clothing… Does it look strange?”
“No, it’s quite mysterious. I can’t find the right words to describe it. Also, did you accept payment for the weapons?”
Sara took out the pouch from her breast.
“Is it really all right to accept this much…?”
“Hahaha. They are royalty too. Keep it.”
“Understood…”
Seeing Sara’s troubled face, Kraitos laughed.
“You may go.”
Sara bowed and left the room.
She handed the pouch to the woodshop master, then headed to Aram.
“Welcome back. You were late. Everything all right?”
“He said please accept it.”
Sara handed the pouch to her brother.
“I see. Thank you.”
Aram took it.
He would probably melt it down for materials.
“What’s wrong?”
Aram noticed Sara’s strange expression.
“Our ancestors were amazing, weren’t they? Legendary steel, right? Did you know?”
“Yeah. We can’t afford to lose to them. It’d be pathetic if we couldn’t surpass what they made a thousand years ago, right?”
Her brother laughed.
“You’re right… But can I really surpass them? I don’t even have a master anymore. I received this outfit, but it feels… heavy somehow.”
“You’ll be fine. Don’t worry. I’ll be right beside you.”
Sara nodded.
A little way off, in a grove of trees, Loki and Shera were watching.
Whether worried or just hungry, they stared intently at Sara.
“Well, I’m off. Good night.”
“Yeah, good night.”
Sara waved to her brother, patted the wolves’ heads, and headed home.
Ankart Michel was irritated.
Since the turn of the year he had been dragged out to this empty wasteland for eastern surveillance duty, and he was sick of it.
The only pleasures in life were wine, money, and women, yet here there was only wine.
So he drank from midday onward.
He occasionally sent Giesen and Meitzen on so-called regular patrols to check the situation, but every report was the same.
Now he didn’t even bother calling them to his tent.
He was a subordinate of Lord Schpeer Otto of Pricel.
Otto was an old retainer of the imperial family; his ancestors had distinguished themselves in war and been granted the Pricel domain.
Using Pricel’s excellent harbor—one of the best in the empire—Otto had grown rich on olive, flax, and lavender oils and textiles, becoming a wealthy man.
Politically, he used his ancient lineage while allying with the western lords. Publicly critical of political reform, he secretly curried favor with the west and had risen to become the head of a faction.
Michel was one of his men.
Unfortunately, he was not in his superior’s good graces, so he always drew the short straw.
Still, since no one scolded him even if he drank from midday, it was an easy post.
His duty was to stop the flow of people and information from the west and investigate the eastern situation, reporting in detail.
At first he had made them write detailed reports, but for the past month every report had been identical.
In reality, it was the same.
The town showed no signs of life, no smoke rose.
For a while there had been reports of smoke from burning corpses and a foul stench, but lately even that had stopped.
It was so quiet one might think the inhabitants had simply died in their homes.
Shortly after he took up the post, he had received orders to kill any escaped prisoners on sight, but he had no way to tell prisoners from ordinary citizens, so he had left them alone.
If they had at least provided names and descriptions it would have been different, but there was nothing—so there was no way to search.
All he had to do was stop any movement from west to east, whether prisoner or merchant.
He had multiple units from the eight thousand troops stationed along the western border of Meitzen and Giesen, forming a net that was rotated regularly.
Supplies arrived on schedule, so he had told the logistics unit to include extra wine, and drank from midday.
He had heard something about a salt prohibition, but the supply wagons were full of it, so there was no problem.
“How long do we have to keep doing this…?”
Michel tilted his cup.
At that moment, a voice called from outside the tent.
“What is it?”
Cup in hand, he stepped out to find a messenger standing there.
“Report: the team sent to investigate Reinstat and Baumgarten has not returned.”
“How many days overdue?”
“Three days.”
“That area has many wolves. They’re probably being chased by beasts. Tell them to check on it.”
He was impressed they were keeping proper watch.
For eastern reconnaissance he sent small squads of five to ten men.
Sending too many would create holes in the encirclement.
For a while after that, there were no further reports of missing units.
He thought nothing had happened, but then came word that the missing squad had been found.
All five men were dead, mauled by beasts so badly the cause of death could not be determined.
He ordered more men added to the surveillance.
Tired of this endless duty, he even thought of abandoning it and going home.
Fortunately, since he had been on mission for half a year he had spent no money, so his pay remained untouched.
The only pleasure he had left was imagining what he would do when he returned.
When he got back, the brothels of Pricel had women from all countries.
Deciding where to start—that was his greatest dilemma.
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