Chương 30: An Army of Children and Old Men

Sieghart and Edric left the farm shortly after sunrise. Pale light stretched across the fields while morning mist clung to the irrigation channels, making the land appear unusually peaceful for the beginning of a journey toward war. Elara had been awake long before either of them. She prepared enough food for a journey three times longer than necessary, checked their clothing repeatedly, and added medicinal supplies until Edric's traveling bag could barely close.

She also gave instructions without pausing long enough for anyone to answer. They needed to eat properly, avoid traveling after dark, remain far from the front, distrust unfamiliar officers, write whenever possible, and immediately return if Sieghart developed the slightest cough.

"You stay behind the defensive lines," Elara told Sieghart.

"I will."

"And you stay with your grandfather."

"I will."

"You don't approach any monsters."

"I'll do my best." Elara narrowed her eyes.

"That wasn't the correct answer." His grandmother made considerably more fuss after that. She hugged him tightly, adjusted his cloak three times, and threatened Edric with consequences too creative to repeat if he allowed anything to happen to their grandson. Sieghart couldn't blame her for being dramatic. From her perspective, the regional command was sending her husband and five-year-old grandson toward a collapsing border while expecting her to remain at home and patiently wait for news.

She had every reason to be worried. Sieghart was worried as well, although curiosity, resentment, and anticipation made the emotion more complicated than simple fear. Edric climbed onto his horse and pulled Sieghart into the saddle in front of him. They weren't taking a carriage because the recruited group would provide transportation after gathering in town. The horse would remain at a public stable until their return.

That arrangement saved money and allowed them to travel faster, although Sieghart's short legs made riding alone impossible. Elara walked beside them until they reached the edge of the farm. She held Sieghart's hand for as long as the horse's slow pace permitted before finally being forced to release him.

"We'll come back soon," Sieghart said.

"You had better." Edric urged the horse forward. Sieghart looked back several times, watching his grandmother grow smaller beside the road until the fields and morning mist finally concealed her. The journey to town took less time on horseback than it had inside the hired carriage. Edric maintained a steady pace, slowing only when the road became uneven or another wagon blocked their path. Sieghart sat securely against his grandfather's chest while watching farms, forests, and distant hills pass beside them.

His traveling bag rested behind the saddle, while his practice bow had been tied within easy reach. The town ahead was where Sieghart had spent the first year of his new life. His parents' estate remained there, along with the younger sibling raised to become the true heir of House Emberhart. Sieghart wondered whether his mother knew that Edric had been summoned. She was allowing her father to return to war despite his age, or, more accurately, she hadn't done anything to prevent it. Perhaps she didn't know.

Perhaps she knew and believed the request was reasonable. Considering how little attention she had shown Sieghart after his birth, either explanation seemed possible. His mother probably wasn't thinking about the situation very much. Her attention would remain focused on her husband, the border, and the child chosen to inherit their power. Sieghart had assumed his grandparents' age would exempt them from military service.

The books he read suggested otherwise, especially when the person possessed useful experience or an Aura suited to necessary work. Although Edric's Aura supported farming, he had spent decades using an enchanted bow for hunting and local defense. The regional command apparently considered that enough qualification to place him among the reinforcements. Sieghart hadn't noticed the social divide clearly because he spent little time around Aura users.

Most people on the farm possessed practical abilities and judged each other by reliability rather than combat strength. The histories and biographies inside his room presented a different picture. People with powerful fighting Auras dominated noble families, military commands, celebrated professions, and positions of political authority. Utility Aura users grew food, forged metal, built roads, treated animals, and kept settlements functioning.

Despite that, combat-focused society often treated them as second-class citizens whose work mattered less than the strength of warriors. Sieghart found the attitude remarkably shortsighted. A swordsman could cut down a monster, but he couldn't eat a sword, repair armor with another sword, or build a fortress by swinging harder. However, warriors controlled the weapons and armies. People possessing that kind of authority rarely needed their assumptions to make sense.

Sieghart leaned back slightly so Edric could hear him over the horse's hooves.

"Did you fight in many wars?"

"Not many."

"You know how to use that bow."

"Hunting and fighting aren't the same thing, Sieg." Edric had defended the farm against beasts, hunted dangerous animals, and helped local patrols kill monsters wandering near cultivated land. He had also participated in several border emergencies during his youth. Still, he didn't consider himself a soldier. His experience came from necessity rather than a career built around combat.

"Your father has fought far more than I have," Edric said.

"We usually have enough warriors with appropriate Auras to handle serious battles."

"Usually?"

"This isn't a usual situation." The answer confirmed what the reinforcement group probably represented. The eastern region wasn't calling farmers, adolescents, and retired hunters because they were the best available fighters. They were being called because the best had already been sent. Sieghart looked toward the distant town walls. Smoke rose from several chimneys, and the road became busier as carts traveled in both directions. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"What enemies are we facing?" he asked.

"You won't be facing anyone."

"Hopefully." Edric sighed. Sieghart had heard that sound frequently whenever adults realized they couldn't redirect his questions with a technically correct answer.

"The enemies attacking the eastern region are Firians." Sieghart frowned.

"Firians?"

"They're one of the groups living beyond the kingdom's borders. Their settlements are scattered across several territories, but they unite whenever one of their war leaders becomes powerful enough." The name didn't appear in any of Sieghart's current books. He had read broad descriptions of hostile nations, fallen humans, and monster-worshipping societies, but the world contained too many factions for his limited collection to document them all.

"What can they do?" Sieghart asked.

"Their founder developed a way to consume fire and transform it into power." Sieghart frowned more deeply.

"How does someone eat fire?"

"I can't explain it."

"Do they bite it?"

"I don't think so."

"Drink it?"

"Sieg."

"I'm trying to understand."

"So have scholars for several hundred years." Edric explained that the first Firian warlord had supposedly developed the power through forbidden rituals. Some histories claimed he swallowed the core of a powerful fire guardian, while others described years of consuming burning monster organs. Whatever method he used, he gained the ability to absorb flames and convert their energy into physical strength. His descendants and followers inherited lesser versions of that power through blood, rituals, or both.

Modern Firians could draw heat and magical fire into their bodies. Absorbed energy increased their speed, strength, endurance, and resistance to injury. Some could release the stored power through their weapons or use it to heal burns and wounds. The strongest warriors reportedly became more dangerous as a battle continued, especially when enemies relied on fire-attuned attacks. Sieghart stared ahead. Fireball was his strongest offensive spell. Of course the first major enemy he learned about would eat it.

That was the kind of inconvenience the world seemed to create specifically for him. He possessed infinite mana, developed Black Fire, and spent years improving its speed and power. Now he might encounter opponents who considered a barrage of Fireballs an unlimited meal.

"Can they absorb any amount?" Sieghart asked.

"No. Every Firian has a limit. Taking too much fire can kill them, but discovering that limit while fighting one is dangerous." That offered Sieghart some hope. Infinite mana might allow him to exceed their capacity through overwhelming quantity, although testing the idea would require feeding an enemy power until the enemy either exploded or reached him. It wasn't an experiment he wanted to perform at close range.

"Why are they almost unstoppable up close?" Sieghart asked.

"Their bodies are stronger than ordinary warriors, even without stored fire. When empowered, they can break armor with their hands and continue fighting through injuries that would stop most people. They can also explode and take a lot of people with them…" Firian weapons also absorbed heat. Burning swords, explosive energy, and ordinary fire attacks only made their wielders stronger.

Aura users capable of fighting at a distance could kill them, but the kingdom's military relied heavily on swordsmen, spearmen, and armored defenders. All of those warriors needed to enter the range where Firians possessed their greatest advantage.

"That is probably why I was called," Edric said.

"They need archers."

"And magical bows."

"A great number of them." Ordinary arrows could injure Firians, but their strengthened bodies and heavy armor made them difficult to kill. Enchanted bows provided greater speed, penetration, and specialized ammunition. Water, wind, ice, and pure-force enchantments worked particularly well. Unfortunately, those weapons consumed large amounts of mana and required constant charging. That explained why the regional command wanted Sieghart.

One child with an infinite reserve could maintain enough magical bows to support an entire defensive unit. They didn't know his supply was truly limitless, but Master Thorne's records demonstrated that Sieghart could outperform several ordinary mana workers. Sieghart nodded while reorganizing everything he knew. Firians were descendants of people who pursued power beyond natural Aura, reinforcing the warnings he had read about fallen societies. Their abilities sounded impossible.

Then again, Sieghart had reincarnated with infinite mana and a status screen. His standards for impossibility required adjustment. He had believed that his growing collection of books was teaching him about the world. Instead, every answer revealed several new subjects he hadn't known existed. The kingdom contained dungeon guardians, forbidden bloodlines, magical industries, inherited Auras, fallen societies, and now people capable of treating fire as food. Sieghart wasn't learning fast enough.

The town appeared before them near midday. Guards inspected travelers at the gate, searching wagons and checking identification before allowing anyone to enter. Edric presented the official summons. The guards glanced at Sieghart, read the letter again, and exchanged expressions suggesting that they also found his presence ridiculous. Neither challenged the order. They returned the letter and waved them through. The town looked different from Sieghart's previous visit.

Military banners hung from several buildings, while supply wagons occupied spaces normally used by merchants. Blacksmiths worked with their doors open, producing the constant sound of hammers striking metal. Workers carried crates of arrows, armor, preserved food, and mana stones toward the central square. Civilians still filled the streets, but their conversations were quieter. People stopped to watch every group of soldiers passing through, searching their faces for relatives or news.

Edric brought the horse to a stable near the northern gate. After paying the owner and securing a receipt, he lifted Sieghart down and retrieved their belongings. They walked toward the mustering square together. Sieghart expected to find trained soldiers, armored warriors, or organized units preparing for deployment. Instead, the gathering area was filled mainly with adolescents and elderly men. Many recruits appeared younger than fifteen.

Some carried weapons too large for their bodies, while others wore armor that had obviously belonged to older relatives. Several attempted to appear excited. Their pale faces and restless movements revealed fear beneath the performance. The older recruits looked more experienced but physically worn. Some leaned against spears for support, while others adjusted outdated armor or checked weapons that hadn't been used in years. A smaller number of adults occupied the center of the square.

Most appeared to be officers, healers, wagon drivers, enchanters, or craftsmen responsible for keeping the group organized. Sieghart noticed almost no healthy combatants between twenty and forty years old. Anyone in that age range who possessed a useful fighting Aura had probably been deployed weeks earlier. These weren't the kingdom's strongest reinforcements. They were the people who remained. Edric's expression hardened as he examined the gathering force.

His hand rested briefly against Sieghart's shoulder, as though confirming that the child was still beside him. A clerk sat behind a long table near the center of the square, recording names and assigning recruits to units. Edric joined the line while Sieghart stood beside him. When their turn arrived, the clerk examined the summons.

"Edric Vale. Auxiliary Archer."

"That's right." The clerk wrote the assignment before moving to the second name.

"Sieghart Emberhart." His quill stopped. The man looked over the table and found Sieghart staring back at him. He checked the letter, inspected the official seals, and then looked at Edric.

"He's five."

"We noticed," Edric said. The clerk failed to appreciate the response.

"He is listed as a magical equipment charger assigned to logistics," the man continued.

"Mana reserve classification: exceptional."

"That is what the order says." The clerk stared at Sieghart once more. He looked uncomfortable, but discomfort didn't outweigh official authorization.

"Report to Supply Wagon Four. Both of you depart before sunset." Edric accepted two wooden identification tags. One marked him as an auxiliary archer, while the other identified Sieghart as magical support personnel. Sieghart took his tag and examined the carved number. It was the first official recognition House Emberhart had given his abilities. Naturally, it came in the form of permission to send him toward a war. A horn sounded near the eastern gate.

Officers began shouting instructions, and the gathered recruits moved toward a line of waiting wagons. Sieghart looked across the square at frightened children, tired elders, and support workers clutching equipment they might soon need to use in battle. The kingdom hadn't sent its best. It had already used them.