a tornado of flame that could have burned down the positions of the punitive forces
　The first people in Ray's squad to see it are proud of their captains.
　At the same time, however, people are worried about whether they can have that much power in themselves.
　They were such soldiers, but when they see the soldiers of the punitive force coming out of the entrance to the fence to escape the violent fire whirlwind in the position, they remember their role.
　Take an arrow dyed black from an arrow barrel and watch the bow. Then he shoots an arrow at the soldier who comes out of the doorway.
　Originally, it has its color, and the arrow is inconspicuous. I dyed the arrow black for that purpose, but the fire whirlwind raging in the position of the punitive force was too bright.
　Moreover, the flames spread not only to the whirlwinds of fire, but also to the tents and cabs, whose brightness, though not as high as that of midday... is still far from night.
　Despite the circumstances, the shortstop members shoot arrows at those who have escaped, scattering to their entrances and exits as instructed beforehand.
　Under normal circumstances, more than 6,000 people - many of whom have already died in the fire whirlwind - are trying to escape, but it would be difficult to shoot them all to death without missing.
　However, this shortstop unit is made up of elite troops. Naturally, his archery skills were superior to those of the first rank, and he shot arrows one after another to kill those who were relieved to escape from the position.
　Those below Ray are nonexistent here, purely bowing. The results of the war are very high.
　...though Ray seldom uses his own bow.
　If you're going to use a bow, it's better to throw a spear.
　When you shoot an arrow at a certain distance from your position, you hear dozens or hundreds of death-blowers.
　It's about half an hour that things should go on in that situation.
　The number of people already coming out of the doorway is decreasing, and the end of the night attack is coming soon. That's how everyone started to think about it.
　Suddenly the fence blows violently.
　The fences, blown away with a roar, are blown into the air and fall to the ground with the force of a single blow from a state of piercing the ground.

"What!?"

　The soldier in charge of the doorway near where the fence blew up screams reminiscently.

"Calm down! This kind of situation was originally expected. You must have known in advance that the fence could be destroyed if it took several people! Anyway, now give top priority to keeping the enemy alive, and pay attention to those coming out of that breakthrough! Fortunately, the number of enemies coming out of other entrances and exits is decreasing. Send out a messenger asking for reinforcements!"

　One of the soldiers, desperately shooting arrows with bows, reflexively opens his mouth to Pernix's orders.

"We're already small in number!? If you run a messenger in this situation, you'll find yourself in the trap!"

　Yes, that's the fact.
　It is an elite shortstop unit, but even with the most elite of all, there are only thirty... even if Perenicus, who is also a substantial commander, is included, there are only thirty.
　The difference in number is inevitable.

"I don't care. If things go on like this, we'll get rid of those who get out of there. I'll do something about it until the reinforcements come. -- well, you go."

　The soldier who just refuted Perenicus's gaze.
　There is no particular reason for choosing the person. If I were to force you, I would do my best to reverse the disadvantage, since I understand the disadvantage of the present situation and have advised myself.

"Oh, my God!"
"All right! If you hesitate like that, the more you hesitate, the more disadvantageous you will be!"

　They understand that even on the other side of the destroyed fence, they are naturally targeted for such conspicuous behavior. I don't think I'm going to come out carelessly, perhaps because I'm watching.
　In the meantime, the number of soldiers coming out of the doorway is decreasing, but it must never be it.

"Go away!"

　At the cry of Perenicus, soldiers run away as if they had made up their minds.

"Well... will the auxiliaries come, or will we break through?"
"...what's wrong with Captain Ray? Of course, given that much magic he's used, he may not have the power to spare."

　In the words of another soldier who shoots an arrow toward the doorway, Pearnicus shakes his head, shooting an arrow to check the destroyed stockade.

"Captain Ray is moving a lot toward his position. If things go on like this, the supplies in the position will be flooded out. Captain Ray is the only one who can recover it before it is burned down."
"... since you broke that stockade, I think you'll probably have an important figure or a strong force over there... can't you have him come here?"

　Perenicus shook his head at the soldier's anxious words.

"No, I'm afraid I can't get in touch with the captain..."

　That's when I told him. I saw several soldiers popping out of the fort that had been destroyed.

"Are you here?"

　Pearnicus, who screams sharply and shoots an arrow.
　The arrow pokes into the forehead of the first soldier, killing him instantly.
　But the soldiers who emerged from the destruction were gradually going beyond the limits of Pernix's arrows.





"... I see, this is what happens."

　Sobble mutters, but few people around him hear it because it is full of soldiers' angry voices and murmurs.
　Bratta was the only cavalry commander under the direct supervision of Schles.
　As for what Soble did, the story is simple. I simply shouted that I could get out of position from here.
　Under normal circumstances, some people would have been suspicious of its convenience.
　But it's different now. Behind us, we're free to see a tornado of flames that can kill us no matter how hard we get involved.
　We're only living now because we're lucky enough not to get caught up in the movement.
　And no one knows how long that fortune will last.
　Even if you go out of position, there are many soldiers, even knights and nobles, and there are even places where they fight among themselves to save themselves.
　In the midst of all this, there was a cry in the position that the stockade was destroyed and we could get out of it.
　Of course it was Blatta who did it.
　It is true that the force of destroying the fence, which was originally set up by several soldiers, with just one stroke is one of the best military forces in the First Prince's faction.

"... so what are you going to do now?"

　Bratta asks the Sobble in displeasure.
　For Bratta, since most of the members of this expeditionary force are from the First Prince's side, they are all like half relatives.
　Contrary to his rough nature, it is hard for a caring Bratta to see his family move out of the barrier after barrier.
　More precisely, it would be right not to want to hear the screams that come out of the position.
　Nevertheless, I am obedient to Soble's words simply because I couldn't think of any other way.
　If I had more time, it might have been a different story, but I understood that I was not as smart as I could think of when I was told to think of it right now, and in fact, I couldn't think of any solution.
　With Bratta's gaze on him, the Sobble turns his gaze from where a group of soldiers are leaving to another fence.

"The consciousness of the other person who will be surrounding this position now is concentrated on those who are leaving where Bratta has broken it. Fortunately or unfortunately, the frequency of the screams we hear does not seem to be very large, but knowing that soldiers are trying to escape from it would naturally send reinforcements. Then the rebel army's consciousness will become more and more concentrated over there."

　Bratta and the captain of the cavalry listen quietly to the words.
　In fact, even now, soldiers are jumping out of broken fences, but screams are heard every time I go out.
　But... the soldiers never stop moving out in an effort to choose the one who is more likely to survive.

"In other words, this movement is a kind of positive. And as long as it's a positive, I'll make the most of it."

　Now Bratta understood Soble's point.
　I couldn't help but understand it.

"Do you mean to make them your niece?""Yes, we'd rather get out of this position somewhere a little further away... in the direction of the imperial capital if possible." Then, when you destroy the fence, you run through it without calling others. If the insurgent attack were delayed by a moment of agitation, it would be a golden opportunity for us."

　Bratta asks confirming Soble's words, which she takes for granted.

"Is that really the only way?"
"Oh, this is the surest way I can give Prince Kabazid the information that crimson has taken part in the rebels."
"…I see. If Soble says so, that's all I can do."

　Surprised by what Bratta said, it was the captain of the cavalry who had joined the expeditionary force under the orders of Schles.
　As a subordinate of Schles, of course, his rival... he is well informed of Kabazid's men, who are now his greatest rivals.
　Among them, Blatta was understood to have a camaraderie personality.
　But the captain of the cavalry doesn't express his astonishment.
　Eventually... those who will be sure to fight in the future. I'd like a little bit of information from them, and it's only natural that I don't want to give them any information.
　With all this in mind, the Brattas move through their positions on spare horses borrowed from the cavalry, worrying about the direction of the fire whirlwind.
　Those who are already in the position... to be exact, few of them live in the position.
　Are you burned to death by a whirlwind of fire that moves around as you please, killed each other while trying to get out of the position, or shot to death by a bow and arrow when out of the position?
　Of course, I'm sure some of them will survive. They were hiding under other bodies and pretending to be dead, or they were lucky enough to survive in their positions.
　The bratters thrust themselves into a position where there was little sign of a living being...

"Here, sir,"

　stop at the closest point to the imperial capital in a position
　There is a blood stain on the fence in front of us that may have been the worst of tonight's events, disturbing those who see it.
　But I don't have time to hesitate here now. Having decided so, Bratta looks back.
　a saddle riding like oneself and there were about twenty cavalrymen under Schles.
　A total of less than thirty people must get out of this hell.

(No, when you think of that tornado of flames, you ought to think of it as a long way to go.)

　This is the worst day of my life. open one's mouth thinking like that

"Look, I'm going to destroy the stockade there. Then we'll all get out of it at full speed. There will probably be a chase soon, but never look back on whoever dies. I will return to the imperial capital, and let Prince Kabazid and Prince Schles know that crimson is cooperating with the rebels."

　Whoever survives among us, let them know.
　With a half tacit understanding, Bratta wields his long sword.
　The blow, which appeared to be only a slight wave, reached the stockade from the horse and succeeded in further destruction.
　At that moment...

"Here we go!"

　With Bratta's cry, the people there burst into the destroyed stockade.
　They go out of position, but there is no sign of being attacked by people around themselves.
　to be able to go.
　The thoughts of everyone there became one, then...
　I hear a whizzing sound of air, and the next moment I hear a pain-tolerant voice and a falling sound from behind my bratta.
　I was naturally prepared for what it meant.
　Even in Bratta's case, he was aware of the danger from the beginning, so he was unconscious of those who had fallen behind him, and simply ran straight to the imperial capital without saying a word. ...as it should be.
　That's right. It's supposed to be that
　the position of a fallen horse If it had been in the cavalry of Schles, not the Sobre, it would have been so.
　But it wasn't. It was Soble who fell off the horse there. He's my partner.
　It was only natural for him to turn around at once.
　And looking behind him, Blatta glances briefly with the Sobble rolling on the ground.
　His strong‐willed gaze told him to do his part regardless of himself. That seemed to be what I was saying.

"Oh!? d*mn it!"

　Bratta, receiving the gaze, runs down the street at night screaming like a spit.
　Towards the imperial capital... understanding that Sobre's life must probably be given up.

`Colden crimson!"

　screaming the name of the person who would have created this situation