After a round of saturation bombardment that had turned the clearing into a cratered wasteland, only a few scattered, lucky survivors remained standing. They were no longer soldiers or mercenaries; they were hollow shells of men, literally scared out of their wits by the celestial display of destruction they had just witnessed.
At this point, Flandre Scarlet finally ceased her Danmaku, the glowing orbs of light dissipating into the night air like fading embers. Zhang Wei didn't waste a second. He led his men forward to seize the survivors before they could even think of crawling away. Then came a session of military-grade "Major Memory Restoration" techniques—the kind of brutal interrogation that simply couldn't be broadcast to a polite audience.
To be fair, the techniques lived up to their reputation. In less than ten minutes, the survivors spilled everything they knew in one frantic go. They confessed how their supplies had been eyed by the local lord from the moment they entered the city; when subtle threats and hints for "sponsorship" failed, the lord had mobilized them to slaughter the entire transport team and seize the goods. They had expected a simple massacre of merchants; they hadn't expected someone as impossibly tough as Flandre Scarlet to be standing in their path.
The lord himself had died among the crowd. He was the obese mage who had been the first to fall, his body pierced through by Remilia's Gungnir and pinned to the frozen earth, where he had slowly bled to death in the mud.
Once the intelligence was milked dry, Zhang Wei picked up his long knife. With a cold, professional efficiency, he finished off the survivors one by one. Once the silence returned, the guards threw all the corpses into a nearby deep valley. It was the dead of night, a time when wild beasts roamed the northern woods freely. If the bodies weren't disposed of, the thick scent of blood would attract a tide of vicious predators. While dealing with such beasts wasn't a lethal threat to the group, the constant vigilance required to fend them off all night would drain the guards' energy. By throwing the bodies into the valley, they ensured the beasts would feast far away from the camp.
As for whether they were afraid to sleep next to a fresh battlefield? The men were elites selected personally by Wei Yenwu; they were soldiers who could sleep soundly on a proper field of war, let alone a site of a small skirmish. As for Flandre and the others, the concept of fear was non-existent. If a ghost actually managed to rise from the blood-soaked soil, it would likely make Ibuki Suika die of laughter. In fact, if ghosts could be generated in this world, Suika would probably go on a killing spree just to see them manifest.
Throughout the night, waves of beastly roars and the sound of rending flesh echoed from the valley floor. However, because the valley was steep and required a long trek to exit, the beasts remained occupied with their feast and did not disturb the team's rest.
The convoy's speed increased significantly after setting out the next morning. Regardless of the circumstances, a noble lord of Leithanien had died. Even if it was a justified counter-attack against an illegal ambush, they were still on foreign soil. Who could guarantee that the local officials wouldn't protect their own?
Fortunately, the border was close. If they maintained their pace, they could leave Leithanien territory today and enter the no-man's-land between nations. Since the lord had come on a secret, unsanctioned excursion to commit robbery, no one officially knew his whereabouts. As long as they fled the country and waited two months before returning, any suspicion would lack grounds. It was spring, and the frequent northern rains would wash away every trace of the skirmish within weeks.
The transport team arrived at the border checkpoint around four in the afternoon. The border guards, still strictly following the Twin Empresses' orders, processed the Yan documents. They were slightly confused as to why the team was rushing out of the country instead of resting, but they didn't ask. Their job was to guard the gate; as long as no laws were broken within their sight, the travelers were free to leave.
It wasn't until two days after they left that the news of the Lord of Wolumonde's disappearance reached the capital. By the time Zwillingstürme sent an envoy to search for him, and after a week of haggling with the local Elector, they finally found the gnawed remains at the bottom of the valley. A week of heavy rain had scrubbed the battlefield clean. The only lead was that the lord had stopped a transport team a week prior, and the exchange had been "unpleasant."
The intelligence soon reached the imperial spies. Looking at the "Extremely Dangerous" mark placed over Flandre Scarlet's head in the files, the agents knew they had found the cause. The report was sent back to the Twin Spires.
"Hmph," Hildegard said, her voice sharp as she read the findings. "There is a saying 'If they are not of our race, their hearts must be different.' Since these Yanese dare to kill a noble on my Leithanien soil, they should all be executed." As the Sword of the nation, she remained the voice of the radical faction.
"There is no need to be so agitated," Lieselotte replied, her voice laced with chilling indifference. "That noble was merely getting what he deserved. I had already warned everyone that these supplies were not to be obstructed. Since he allowed greed to blind him, he had to be prepared for the consequences. Even if he hadn't died there, I wouldn't have let him live. His death at their hands at least preserved the honor of his family name."
"Then what do you plan to do?" Hildegard asked.
"That little girl, Flandre, is very interesting. If Yan can accept her, why can't my Leithanien?" Lieselotte asked calmly.
"You want to take her in?" Hildegard's eyes narrowed. "Are you not worried about inviting a wolf into the house?"
"With you and me here," Lieselotte smiled, "why fear a wolf?"
A matching smile curled at the corner of Hildegard's mouth. "Indeed. What is there to fear!"
While the Empresses plotted, the transport team found a safe hilly area to reorganize. They were now in the buffer zone between Leithanien and Ursus—a lawless no-man's-land where guerrillas and scouts from both sides roamed. They were less than a day's journey from the Reunion Movement's controlled territory.
As long as they safely made it through this one final night, they would reach their destination tomorrow. The only trouble was exactly that: how to spend the night safely in a land where everyone was a potential enemy.