At Blake's command, the twin sisters standing in the rear stepped forward in unison, smiling brightly as they looked at the elderly man before them.
"Hello, Mr. Tyr," Messiah greeted.
"Greetings, Grandpa Tyr," Semia added.
"I'm Messiah."
"I'm Semia."
"We'll be leading this unit from today onward," they said in tandem.
"From now on, we are your commanders."
"We look forward to your guidance," Messiah finished.
"And we expect you to obey our orders," Semia concluded.
The two girls spoke alternately, their unique way of communicating taking everyone by surprise. Even Tyr blinked, his eyes widening as he studied the twins with curiosity. As a veteran from House Byrd, he had heard whispers of the girls' extraordinary strength—but he had never imagined Blake would put them in charge of the cavalry.
It was true that most of Blake's followers were remarkably young yet immensely powerful, but there had to be a limit. If Blake or Judy had been appointed as commander, Tyr would have accepted it without hesitation. But these two girls… Tyr frowned. They were simply too young. Letting children lead seasoned soldiers into battle was one thing—watching them take lives was another matter entirely. No matter how strong they were, could such young girls really bring themselves to kill?
"Lord Blake, isn't this a bit too…" Tyr began, his voice hesitant.
"They are the best choice," Blake interrupted firmly.
"I recommend them because I have absolute faith in their abilities. Rest assured—this will not be a decision you come to regret."
Blake's reasoning was simple. Nearly everyone in his retinue already had their own assigned troops—even Ofaliel had been given command of the mercenaries. Only the twins remained without a unit to lead, and that would not do. As he had explained to Viscount Byrd and Della, the true threat of a Gifted Knight lay in the soldiers they commanded, not their individual prowess. Judy's dragon knight squadron needed no reinforcements, but Messiah and Semia were a different story. Fortunately, the twins had no strict requirements for their subordinates—any capable soldiers would do. That was why Blake had decided to place the cavalry under their command.
"This…" Tyr frowned, still reluctant to accept the arrangement emotionally. But since Blake had spoken, he had no choice but to nod in agreement. "Very well, Lord Blake. I understand."
"Now, as for the other units," Blake continued, shifting his gaze to Viscount Byrd and Della, "I want you two to take temporary command. I will issue orders when the time comes, and you will be responsible for carrying them out. Does this arrangement suit you?"
"It does, Lord Blake! Perfectly!" the two men replied in unison.
With all the arrangements finalized, Blake wasted no time. He led the combined forces to the right flank and oversaw the transfer of authority from the garrison troops.
The terrain of the right flank was even worse than they had anticipated. They had studied the maps beforehand, but seeing the desolate landscape with their own eyes sent a grim expression across even Blake and Judy's faces. Not only was the terrain complex and treacherous, but the Sith-held side of the border sat significantly higher than their own. A wide, sloping plain stretched between the two sides, while the defensive structures on the Wester side were pitifully short and scattered.
"The elevation is too low—terrible for ambushes," Judy observed, her voice flat.
"And the layout is far too convoluted to find a proper charge route," Blake added.
"There's nothing we can do about it, my lord," the garrison officer standing beside Blake said with a bitter smile. "Our defensive capabilities here were always limited. The ground is solid rock—we can't even dig proper foundations, let alone build sturdy fortifications. We did what we could, piling stones in the depressions to form makeshift walls, but as you can see… the conditions are less than ideal. But we had no other options."
It was not just the defensive lines that were shoddy—the officers' quarters were equally dilapidated. The bedrock beneath made it impossible to dig deep foundations, so the buildings could not be built high. There were no proper sentry towers either. Thanks to this cursed terrain, even basic obstacles like wooden palisades and trenches were impossible to construct. The ground was far too hard for manual labor; only mana-fueled magical machinery could have carved through it—and they had none.
Of course, none of this had mattered before. The land across the border had been an ally. Now, it had become the weakest link in the entire fortress's defenses. Blake had no doubt that this flimsy line would collapse at the first Sith charge. They wouldn't even need a Gifted Knight to lead the attack—any competent commander could break through with a simple frontal assault.
"I understand," Blake nodded, his expression remaining calm and amiable. He shook the officer's hand firmly. "From here on out, we'll take over."
"Thank you, my lord. We appreciate it," the officer replied. Then, he glanced nervously around, leaned in closer, and whispered in Blake's ear, "Normally, we wouldn't need to provide a detailed briefing during a transfer. But… there's a hidden compartment beneath the desk in the commander's quarters. Inside, you'll find a detailed map of the right flank. I think it will serve you well. Good luck, my lord—may the Holy Light be with you!"
With that, the officer straightened his posture, saluted Blake crisply, and turned to leave, marching away with his men. Ofaliel, standing nearby, watched the scene unfold with surprise, then sighed softly.
"I always thought soldiers resented nobles," she said quietly.
"They do," Blake replied, his gaze returning to the barren, rocky landscape before them, not a single blade of grass in sight. "But we are all here to defend this country. At a time like this… some rules are meant to be broken."
Ofaliel fell silent for a moment, then nodded, saying nothing more. Charlotte, however, stepped forward, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
"So, Master, what do we do next?" she asked.
"I have no idea," Blake replied, surprising everyone with his candor. "I'm just here to keep an eye on things. As for what to do next… you should ask Ofaliel."
"Huh? Me?!" Ofaliel exclaimed, her eyes widening in shock.
"That's right, Lady Ofaliel," Blake said, nodding firmly. "You are my adjutant. And I hereby appoint you responsible for organizing the right flank's defenses. Do you have any objections?"
"But I have absolutely no experience with this sort of thing!" Ofaliel protested, her voice rising in panic.
"Everyone has to start somewhere. You'll learn quickly enough. Besides, we're not at war with the Sith yet—we have plenty of time for you to practice," Blake said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "This is an order, adjutant. You have no right to refuse."
Ofaliel opened her mouth to retort, then sighed in defeat, her shoulders slumping. "Very well, my lord. I understand."
With the transfer of authority complete, the reorganization of the right flank began in earnest. True to his word, Blake retreated to the commander's quarters and did not emerge again, spending his days drinking tea, eating meals, and chatting with the maids as if the impending war was none of his concern. This left Ofaliel with all the work. Since accepting the command, she had been running back and forth across the flank with maps in hand, spending four long days studying and comparing the terrain. Fortunately, as a spirit bound to a physical form, she did not tire as easily as a human—otherwise, she would have collapsed from exhaustion long ago.
In the end, the defense plan she devised left everyone astounded.
Most defensive strategies focused on stopping enemy attacks head-on. Ofaliel, however, abandoned this concept entirely. She had quickly realized that the right flank's defenses were so weak they were barely worth the effort—they would not hold against a serious assault, no matter how they were reinforced. Instead, she adopted a defense tactic no one had ever seen before.
**Mobile Defense.**
Under her plan, all fixed sentry posts were dismantled. The noble coalition troops were divided into small, equal-sized patrol teams, which began patrolling the flank according to pre-determined routes. Ofaliel's design ensured that the teams were interconnected—if any one team encountered trouble, the entire right flank would receive the alert in minutes. Behind these mobile patrols stood the second line of defense: the archers. Their role was not to kill enemies, but to relay messages between the patrol teams. And behind the archers were the twin sisters leading the cavalry, who roamed between the patrol routes to inspect the soldiers and respond to emergencies with maximum flexibility.
The entire defense line was a reflection of Ofaliel's unique style—never sitting idle, always taking the initiative to control the situation. It was like a string of bells; if one bell was rung, all the others would chime in response.
"Have to admit, Ofaliel has done an excellent job," Blake said, studying the map in his hand with approval. "This defense strategy is certainly unorthodox, but it might just work. And even if it doesn't… well, I've already lent her Messiah and Semia. I'm sure they'll keep things from getting out of hand."
"You trust Lady Ofaliel quite a lot, Master," Charlotte purred, lifting her head from Blake's lap. She smiled, licking her lips as she swallowed the last of the warm liquid in her mouth.
"They're not my soldiers," Blake replied casually, closing the map and running his fingers through Charlotte's hair. "I won't shed any tears if they die. Besides, this is the perfect opportunity to let the former princess sharpen her skills. Let her do as she pleases."
"But if Lady Ofaliel finds out you're in here… entertaining me like this, I'm afraid she'll be quite angry," Charlotte teased, her fingers tracing circles on Blake's thigh.
"Then it's a good thing she doesn't know," Blake said, pinching Charlotte's soft cheek playfully. "Alright, you've had your fun. Don't think I don't know about the little games you and your sister play. A little mischief is fine, but don't overstep your bounds."
"Rest assured, Master. I always know where to draw the line," Charlotte replied, her eyes glinting mischievously. Suddenly, she perked up her ears, listening intently. Then, she quickly cleaned up the evidence of their tryst, straightened her clothes, and stood up, returning to her usual serene smile as she positioned herself behind Blake's chair. Just then, a knock sounded on the door.
"Enter," Blake called out.
"Y-yes, my lord!" a young voice stammered.
A young soldier burst into the room, clad in the armor of House Zach's cavalry. His face was pale with panic, clearly bearing bad news. He snapped to attention, saluted Blake, and reported breathlessly, "My lord! The Fifth Patrol on the right flank just sent a signal! A group of unidentified figures is approaching the line—roughly one hundred and fifty men strong!"
The wind picked up suddenly, howling across the barren plain.
Tyr pulled down the visor of his helmet, hiding his worried expression behind the cold steel. He stared ahead with mixed feelings, where two small figures rode side by side on a black and a white steed, moving steadily forward.
To be honest, Tyr had been deeply unhappy about Blake's order. When the patrol mission had been assigned, his first instinct had been to leave the two girls in the rear while he led the men forward. Never mind the danger—the biting cold wind alone would be enough to make the girls sick.
He had long known of their strength, but to Tyr, they were just two young girls—like the granddaughters he never had. He could not understand why Blake would send children into battle.
But Tyr had never gotten the chance to argue. Before he could open his mouth, the mounts the girls summoned had left him speechless.
A **Unicorn.**
A **Nightmare.**
Creatures that existed only in fairy tales, standing right before his eyes. In that moment, the veteran Tyr finally understood the true extent of the twins' power.
**Knight Rank.**
By the Holy Light… what kind of era was this?
The old man felt utterly out of touch. How could girls so young be knights? How had they obtained such immense power? Why were they here? He had no answers to these questions, but he could no longer object. The girls had clearly demonstrated their strength—and among warriors, strength was rank, strength was law. All he could do now was obey their orders without question.
Then, a faint whistling sound cut through the air. A flaming arrow shot up from the left side, burning brightly for a moment before vanishing into the sky.
Enemy attack!
Tyr had spent a lifetime on the battlefield—he recognized the signal immediately. (Ofaliel, however, had not. When she had issued the orders, she had only told the patrols to use "specific signals" when spotting enemies. She had never actually specified what each signal meant—our former princess was still learning the ropes.) The old cavalry officer immediately reined in his horse, but before he could shout a command, two blurs streaked past him.
"First squad, follow me!" Messiah shouted.
"Second squad, with me!" Semia echoed.
"Enemy attack!"
"Form defenses!"
In their signature tandem style, the girls gave their orders. Then, Semia wheeled her Nightmare around and galloped away, while Messiah raised her parasol, pointed it straight ahead, and let out a sharp cry, transforming into a streak of white light as she charged toward the oncoming dark tide.