The Kinton territory — a triangular zone jointly administered by the Northern Empire, the Central Lands Alliance, and the local nobility.
The place had long been famed for its sky-high and labyrinthine system of taxes; the residents here were, without question, the beasts of burden among beasts of burden, while the nobles were a slick, slippery crowd, oozing wealth from every pore.
Around the outskirts of the main city there were scarcely any villages or towns to be found at all — what filled the area was, uniformly, farmland and pillbox bunkers.
To the north stood forests teeming with monsters as a natural barrier; to the south lay the barren battlefields once fought over by the various nations; to the east it bordered the lake-and-coastal regions, and to the west sprawled fertile plains. Three lines of defense — built one apiece by the Empire, by the various nations, and by the nobility — guarded the colossal main city, and passing through each of them required paying a gate toll going in or out.
To take up residence inside the main city, one was not only obliged to hand over a steep monthly head-tax — even the houses one owned were subject to taxation. Buying grain on a daily basis, setting up stalls for trade, entering and leaving certain venues, and so on — at every step there was a noble somewhere skimming a tax off the top.
The first line of defense had been established under the supervision of a marquess of the Northern Empire, who had pulled together more than a hundred of the Empire's elite knights along with a dozen-plus Mages ranked from second class up to third class, with pillboxes, low walls, and watchtowers set at fixed intervals as the warning network. Of the passage tolls handed over by travelers, one share went to the Empire, one portion to the nobles of Kinton territory, and yet another portion belonged to the marquess himself and his knight order.
Even out here in the Northern borderlands, no one dared offend the Empire.
And yet this very line of defense — a symbol of the Empire's honor — was trampled and broken through in a single instant by a Demon Race army of nearly a thousand.
"It really has been such a long while..."
Aura held the Scales of Obedience in one hand and gripped a long sword in the other, her mood positively cheerful.
A black-pressing tide of Demon Race had formed a ring of encirclement, with Aura and the prisoners standing in the middle.
Before her, more than a hundred Human knights had their heads pressed flat to the ground, their bodies arched at bizarre angles, lined up in perfectly neat rows; sweat beaded at their temples and trickled down inside their steel helmets; jaws locked tight, muscles drawn rigid — not a single one of them could move of his own will.
As for the Mages, they had long since been beaten unconscious by Linie, and lay tossed off to one side like rows upon rows of corpses.
These Humans had all had the Magic of Obedience cast upon them by Aura, and could not resist.
Striking with ten times the manpower — the righteous Demon Race ganging up for a beat-down — a great victory.
Although quite a few Demon Race soldiers had picked up a scrape or two, there were no fatalities.
"Oi, you there — how are the Human forces below distributed?"
Aura had picked out one knight who looked particularly weak. Under the Magic of Obedience, the man's expression struggled for only an instant before, perfectly blank-faced, he divulged every last piece of intelligence.
"The second line of defense... is the Central Lands Alliance's turf. Their troop strength is three times ours, but their discipline is lax, and their combat capability is much, much weaker than ours..."
"Nothing but a rabble."
Aura nodded. In the face of her magic, the Humans had no power to push back at all; that lost portion of her confidence was, little by little, coming home.
"Very good. Now then — I order you all to take us to the next line of defense."
Turning her head, Aura then said to Linie and Draht, "Leading the charge I'll leave to the two of you."
"By your command!" Draht, normally expressionless, broke into a fervent grin.
"Hmh." Linie, by contrast, was thoroughly cold, idly twirling about the black longsword her Mana had taken the form of in her hand — for all the world as though she were trying to imitate the swordsmanship of those Northern Empire knights.
Because of the restrictions placed by the Magic of Obedience, Aura could not directly bring harm to Humans — but that hardly meant that her "Headsmen" could not give orders to their subordinates, or take the initiative themselves to harm Humans. All she had to do, when the battle reached a certain point, was use the Magic of Obedience to control the field, and that was that.
The cries of battle had scarcely had time to die down before once again they rose up.
And so, in less than half a day's effort, Aura's army had once more secured a sweeping victory.
By this point, the news that half of the Kinton territory had fallen under Demon Race control had already reached the ears of the nobles within the city.
A small minority of nobles decided to scoop up their assets and bolt; the majority, however, declared themselves entirely unconcerned — a minor matter.
To say nothing of the multitudes of residents within the city who could be made to serve as shields, the third line of defense was being held by none other than the famous Rogues' Mercenary Band of Kinton — a sizable outfit of over five hundred men, who hunted demon beasts year-round and had taken part in actual campaigns. When that lot really worked themselves up into a frenzy, even the Empire's knights and the assembled garrison troops of the various nations put together might well prove no match for them.
All the way until evening, the main city remained as peaceful and serene as on any ordinary day.
As one noble put it, "I reckon those Demon Race have already been mopped up by the mercenary band. Come tomorrow, that Scar-Face mongrel will be pattering eagerly over once again to shake us down for money, I expect."
On hearing this, the other nobles all burst into great peals of laughter.
The banquet, the liquor, the lights — set beside the impoverished, dilapidated streets outside, it might as well have been two entirely different worlds.
Little did they know that in the basement of the Kinton Mercenary Band, the scar-faced middle-aged brute was at that very moment clutching at Aura's leg and bawling his eyes out.
"Spare me, please, spare me, my lord Demon Race! I have an eighty-year-old mother above me and an eight-year-old child below me — apart from this one life of mine, I'll give you anything, do whatever you say!"
To deal with a thousand Demon Race plus the captured Empire and nation soldiers, the boss of the mercenary band — the scar-faced man who called himself the King of the Kinton Mercenaries — had decided to lure the enemy chief over for a personal duel. Who could have known that, mid-bluff and mid-bluster, a single spell from his opponent had brought him to his knees?
The expression of a Human pleading for mercy and losing all composure, the posture of looking down on him from on high — Aura was satisfied.
If circumstances had permitted, Aura would dearly have loved to lop the head off this fellow before her with her own hand.
"Human — listen well. Standing before you is one of the great Demon Race's Seven Sages of Destruction — Aura the Guillotine."
"Aiya, so it's Lady Aura herself! This is all a misunderstanding — I was bewitched by the nobles in the city into standing against you. The truth is, I've always loved the Demon Race! Now that I've witnessed your power with my own eyes, I revere you from the very bottom of my heart!"
The pompous words had scarcely fallen from his mouth before the scar-faced brute was kissing Aura's boots — once, twice, three times — looking more devout, by all appearances, than the worshippers at prayer in the Goddess's Order.
"Aiya, my lady, look at this — your shoes have got dirty all along the way. Allow this humble servant to wipe them clean for you, prprprprprprpr..."
What Aura had not seen coming was that this fellow, who apparently had no lower limit whatsoever, after he was done kissing, actually did begin licking with his tongue.
What a magnificent bootlicker!
"Enough. Take your men and go open the gates of the main city and the lord's manor for us. Tonight — I am going to take this place once and for all."
"Splat!" — Aura kicked the bootlicker squarely in the forehead.
The scar-faced brute rolled over once on the ground, scrambled rapidly back to his feet, then scuttled off without so much as a glance behind. Halfway along he encountered Linie carrying a bloodstained great axe — at which he first tumbled over in fright, then, on all fours, went half-rolling and half-scrambling away in a frantic detour around her.
"Lady Aura, the disobedient ones have all been dealt with by me."
"Very good, Linie. I can already faintly see it — the future of my rise once again..."
Aura's third battle since her return — another sweeping victory!
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