Leona stood behind the line of men holding muskets at the ready. She watched as Gunther instructed them by waving a wooden stick while barking orders.

  “First rank!”

  The fine line of soldiers stepped forward.

  “Take aim!”

  They all raised their muskets.

  “Fire!”

  A volley of steel shot landed in the bags of sand across the training room.

  “Countermarch! Second rank!”

  The first line of soldiers stepped back as the second stepped forward.

  “Take aim!”

  Once again, they raised their muskets.

  “Fire!”

  Another volley of steel hit the sandbags. Within about a minute, they all had their muskets reloaded and ready to fire again.

  Leona nodded with approval as she looked at Gunther.

  “I have to admit, it’s incredible. It reminds me of the formation of the londrian army.”

  “The londrian volley style stems from Akrapocalis’ own private military, Princess.” Gunther explained. “Lady Ravness was the one who came up with how to use mass musket formations.”

  “My mother did?”

  “Yes, she was every bit of a tactician as she was an inventor.” He smiled confidently with a nostalgic expression on his face. “If she were still alive, I’m sure she would love to have seen the improvements they made upon it.”

  Leona smiled quietly to herself.

  “Yeah… I bet she would…”

  “Queen.” A blonde haired woman approached Leona, her crimson red eyes had a low glint in the darkness. “Did you want to talk to me about something?”

  “Ah, Priscilla. I have a request for you.”

  “What may I be of service?”

  “Do you think you can protect the backline once we march? Holding proper rank and file is difficult if they don’t have their backs safe from enemy attacks.”

  Priscilla nodded firmly.

  “Yes, I can.”

  “Good. I’ll have some people assigned to your command then.” She furrowed her brows. “The last problem is the front… cavalry will be a problem…”

  “Not with these.” Gunther slammed a piece of sharp, pointy metal with a loop at its base against the top of a crate. “The folk I trained here also know how to use it.”

  “What is this thing?”

  “A bayonet.” He explained as he grabbed a musket off a soldier’s hand and installed the sharp point at the end of the firearm. “Think of it as a makeshift pike. Put a dozen men lined up with these and no horseman would be stupid enough to charge head first into them.”

  “Well, that’s reassuring.” Her smile turned into a serious expression as she looked at her knight. “Leonard.”

  Krieg approached them. The soldiers around looked up at him with respect and nervousness given how tall and imposing he appeared to be.

  “This is my knight. Leonard Krieg, he’ll be the one leading the charge.” Leona then raised her staff slightly. “I will do my best to keep you all safe with my magic. Stick to your training and we’ll get through this.”

  “Yes, ma’am!”

  “Good. Now rest up for tomorrow morning. We’ll march at sunrise.”

  “Princess,” Priscilla called, “a public march will be held tomorrow, wouldn’t it be better to wait for the next day instead?”

  “Public march?”

  Emi clenched her teeth in visible anger while Priscilla continued explaining.

  “A final march will be held in the central square before Arcadia officially goes to war against the demon realm. Citizens and knights are expected to attend the parade.”

  Leona furrowed her brows. All eyes were on her as she took a deep breath and finally tapped her staff lightly against the floor.

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  “We march tomorrow.”

  The soldiers looked amongst themselves with confidence clear in their faces, but Gunther stepped forward with a different kind of tone.

  “My Queen, isn’t that a bit reckless? If we end up wounding civilians…”

  “Don’t worry, Gunther. I have a plan in mind.”

  “A plan?”

  “Might I ask, what is it?”

  She nodded before asking for a map of the city. After she had one on the crate that served as a table, she began to explain.

  “First we’ll need to get them in position…”

  At the same time; the castle’s dungeon echoed with dry, heavy footsteps alongside soft, bare footfalls. Alexander—wearing a wine red cape with white fluff coating alongside his shoulders, walked with his usual confident gait through the underground prison.

  Despite being a place to hold criminals, there wasn’t a single guard in sight and all of the cells were empty, saving for the very last one.

  “Hello, dear cousin,” Alexander said mockingly. “Enjoying the time you have left?”

  Inside the cell, a skinny and dirty man glanced up from beneath his unkempt brown hair.

  “I hope you die…”

  “My, my… is that how you really want to talk to me?” He forcibly grabbed the arm of a woman wearing rags that was beside him. “She’ll die soon, you know.”

  His dead stare suddenly revived with rage as she noticed her jet-black hair and amber eyes.

  “Unhand her now!” He rushed forward and grabbed the bars, baring his teeth as he shouted. “Don’t you dare do anything to her!”

  “Go ahead. Tell him what I told you.”

  The woman opened her mouth for a brief moment but then closed again. A voice echoed in Luke’s mind.

  “I’m sorry Luke… but… I’ll do as he says. If not, he’ll kill you.”

  “No! Sophie! Don’t help him! If you’ll do he’ll—”

  “Maybe I should just kill you here and now.”

  Alexander pointed his index finger at him and mana started to gather around his hand.

  “I’ll… I’ll do it,” Sophie uttered quietly.

  The king smiled as he placed his right hand on top of her head.

  “Then, become mine.”

  A shock ran through Sophie’s body and her form started to melt back into the frostburnt silver slime.

  “No! Sophie!”

  Her gelatinous body slowly sloshed between Alexander’s fingers as it seeped inside his skin. Sophie’s red core embedded itself into his right palm as the tyrant finally let out a satisfied sigh.

  “The voice… is gone…” He slowly began to smile. “Haha… hahahahaha! How about that?! Akantor?!”

  Luke let go of the bars, falling on his back on the floor.

  “No… you…” He could sense the overwhelming amount of mana pouring out of him. “You’re… a monster…”

  “It takes a monster to kill another.” He smiled confidently. “I’ll come back for you once I destroy the demon realm and hunt down that pesky tactician. I’ll bring her head on a pike for you as a gift.”

  “You… you won’t get away with this…!”

  The tyrant turned around and started to leave with a spring in his stride. Luke threw himself against the bars and shouted.

  “You’ll pay for what you’ve done!”

  Outside the dungeon, Alexander was greeted by a royal knight.

  “My King, the preparations for tomorrow’s march are done.”

  “Good, good. See that the knights are ready to go from here to the demon realm.”

  “Understood, my King.”

  The knight turned around and left. The tyrant made his way to the throne room and sat down on the opulent seat overlooking the red carpeted marbled room

  “Finally… Arcadia is finally mine to command.” Power coursed through his veins. He felt like he could level a city by himself. “I should have the scholars call me Dragon King.”

  He then glanced at the red orb pulsating from the center of his palm.

  “Isn’t that right, Akantor?” He slowly began to smile again. “Hahahahaha!”

  His laughter echoed across the empty room.

  Despite being king, there were no guards posted—it wasn’t needed. His confidence was at an all time high thanks to Akantor’s power and now that he had silenced the dragon god, nothing could stop him now from marching at the demon realm.

  “I need no army.” He muttered to himself while looking at the palm of his hand. “I am the army.”

  He leaned back and closed his eyes.

  “Mother!” A young Alexander brought forth a wooden toy sword to show it to her. “Look! Father gave it to me!”

  “Oh, what a well made sword! Did he make it?”

  “No… but he bought it from a merchant.”

  “I see. You can play with it, but be careful to not hurt yourself with it.”

  “Okay!”

  The young lad ran outside the mansion and started to swing the sword in the air, eventually hitting a rock in his path.

  “Ugh!” The vibration made him drop the toy and when he went over to pick it up a shadow loomed over him.

  Upon looking up, he noticed a blonde man in his late twenties, his sharp aquamarine eyes looking at him with an unsettling smile.

  “Young lad, is your dad inside?”

  “Huh?”

  “My name is Jean Crossford. I’d like to have a word with him.”

  ‘If only I didn’t answer him… if only I had run away…’

  A flash of red filled his eyes. Blood dripped from his father’s corpse as the man that had just introduced himself as his father’s friend had slain him in cold blood.

  “Father…? Father!”

  Alexander’s eyes snapped wide open. His heart was at peace but his mind felt like it was crumbling.

  “Curse that dream again…” He massaged between his eyes as he lifted his head.

  It was already morning, the early sunrays were beginning to come through the glass windows. He stood up and adjusted his clothes with his left hand.

  Upon heading out of the throne room he was greeted by three knights wearing royal knight attire. But those weren’t just any knights. The ones at each side shuffled strangely under their armor while the middle one offered a few words.

  “Good morning, Your Majesty.”

  “Indeed, it is a good morning. Laslow. Protect me with your life, will you?”

  The knight bowed.

  “It shall be done.”

  “Good, let’s go then. Let’s show the world what I am capable of.”