Chương 42: Borrowed Silence

Sieghart continued watching the empty battlefield long after the last trace of sunlight disappeared. Every instinct told him that the Firians hadn't abandoned the attack merely because one battle had gone poorly. The smoke beyond the eastern hills had continued rising throughout the day. The enemy had gathered heat from both sunlight and fire, investing hours into preparing for another confrontation. They wouldn't waste that energy without a reason.

Perhaps they intended to attack another defensive camp, forcing the commanders to divide their soldiers. They might circle around the battlefield, strike the nearby town, or wait until the defenders became exhausted. The possibilities multiplied faster than Sieghart could eliminate them. Without scouts reporting from beyond the hills, every theory remained little more than an uncomfortable guess. Edric remained beside him near the reinforced barrier.

His enchanted bow rested against one shoulder, while his eyes searched the darkness for any sign of approaching flames.

"Hopefully, they gave up on the war." Sieghart looked at his grandfather.

"You don't believe that."

"I would still appreciate being proven wrong." Edric's voice remained light, but he hadn't lowered his bow or moved away from the defenses. He understood the danger of the enemy's absence as clearly as Sieghart did. The Firians had been attacking the region long before Sieghart arrived. Losing one favorable battle wouldn't convince them to abandon land they had already spent lives attempting to conquer. At most, Sieghart had forced them to reconsider their approach.

Edric glanced toward the scorched crater where the wagon had once stood. Workers had cleared most of the wreckage, but the blackened earth still marked the place where the massive fireball struck.

"They shouldn't know you're a child." Sieghart raised an eyebrow.

"They saw me."

"From several hundred meters away, through steam and smoke. They probably saw someone standing on a wagon, but they shouldn't know your age." That offered slightly more comfort than nothing. Sieghart's crimson-and-gold hair made him distinctive, although distance might have concealed his small size. The enemy had identified a dangerous magic user. They didn't necessarily understand that the person throwing enormous spheres of water had recently celebrated his fifth birthday. Edric continued watching the hills.

"They should know that we have someone good at magic on our side. Someone capable of annoying them enough to change the battle."

"Annoying them?"

"You soaked several dozen fire-eaters and helped kill enough of them to force a retreat. I imagine they found it annoying." Sieghart considered the description. He supposed people became difficult critics after someone dropped several tons of water upon their heads.

"Do any Auras allow people to do the same thing?" Edric turned toward him.

"Create that much water?"

"Or launch attacks across an entire battlefield. There should also be magical weapons capable of producing something similar." Sieghart had already seen Aura users perform techniques that exceeded ordinary magic. The ice swordsman froze multiple enemies with a single swing, while the golden archer fired entire volleys within seconds. If personal Auras could create those effects, someone should possess an ability designed for large-scale battles.

A single specialist might produce storms, earthquakes, or explosions capable of erasing formations. Such people would be more valuable than hundreds of ordinary fighters. Edric shook his head slowly.

"Some siege weapons can do something similar, but they are difficult to maintain without people possessing the correct Auras."

"What kind of Aura?"

"Siege Engineers, Artillery Wardens, Great Runesmiths, and others with similar abilities. The exact title changes depending upon the weapon and the person." Edric explained that large enchanted weapons required far more than mana. Their runes experienced enormous strain with every attack, while the materials expanded, cracked, or lost alignment beneath repeated use. A conventional magical bow could survive hundreds of activations before requiring major repairs.

A siege weapon capable of destroying a fortress wall might damage itself after only three or four shots. The correct Aura could reduce that strain. A Siege Engineer might reinforce the structure, identify damaged runes, and adjust the weapon before it failed. An Artillery Warden could increase range, stabilize projectiles, or coordinate several weapons simultaneously.

Without those people, a powerful siege weapon became an extremely expensive object that destroyed itself almost as effectively as it destroyed the enemy.

"Couldn't a Runesmith repair one?"

"A skilled one could, given enough materials and time. Repairing the weapon during a battle is another matter." Sieghart nodded as he recalled Master Thorne. The old shopkeeper could create enchanted tools because his Runesmith Aura supported the work, but even he required specialized ingredients to carve and maintain runes. Sieghart's infinite mana wouldn't replace those ingredients. Charging a damaged siege weapon might cause the runes to rupture rather than restore them.

The problem resembled pouring more fuel into a broken engine. Abundant energy remained useless when the machine couldn't survive using it.

"What about large-scale combat Auras?"

"They exist." Edric's answer arrived immediately, confirming that he had expected the question.

"Some people can attack entire formations, break gates, or protect hundreds of soldiers. Your father is capable of cutting through a battlefield when he uses his Aura seriously." Sieghart wasn't surprised. The Crimson Sword King had supposedly cut through several boulders simply because a troll used them as projectiles. Alaric's individual strength probably exceeded the combined power of many fighters in the camp. That raised a more uncomfortable question.

"Then why aren't people like that here?" You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. Edric remained silent for several seconds.

"Most of them aren't foot soldiers."

"That isn't what I asked."

"I know." The strongest Aura users rarely joined temporary military forces. They became members of permanent royal armies, specialized military groups, wealthy merchant organizations, or powerful noble houses. Some earned enough money to establish their own companies. Others received titles, land, and privileges in exchange for serving influential families. People capable of deciding battles weren't placed inside exposed camps without a compelling reason.

Their patrons treated them as investments that needed protection. The defenders surrounding Sieghart were different. Most possessed utility Auras, minor combat abilities, or physical enhancements that offered only modest advantages. Some were too young to enter professional military service, while others had aged beyond their prime. They were farmers, craftspeople, laborers, apprentices, retired soldiers, and ordinary residents summoned because the region required additional bodies.

The camp might contain a few exceptional fighters, but most of its soldiers belonged to a temporary military force. Once the emergency ended, the survivors would return to their previous lives. If they survived.

"Powerful people are expensive," Edric said.

"They go where they are paid or where their obligations take them." Sieghart looked toward the distant town. Its walls rose against the night sky, illuminated by enchanted lights placed along the towers. Even from the camp, he could distinguish several larger structures near the center. The town looked prosperous enough to contain nobles, merchants, and military officers. Some of them probably employed powerful Aura users. Those fighters hadn't joined the defensive camp.

Perhaps they were protecting the walls, waiting inside as a final reserve in case the Firians broke through. From a strategic perspective, preserving strong fighters until they were absolutely necessary made a certain kind of sense. From another perspective, the people outside the walls were being sacrificed to prevent valuable property from becoming endangered. The camp absorbed the attacks. Temporary soldiers exhausted the enemy, suffered burns, and died in the open field.

If the defensive line collapsed, the elites inside the town could fight weakened Firians from behind fortified walls. Sieghart didn't say what he was thinking. Everyone on this battlefield was being treated like cannon fodder. The reinforcements had been composed primarily of children, older people, and those without exceptional combat Auras. They weren't expected to defeat the Firians decisively. They were expected to delay them.

The fifty gold coins paid to Alaric hadn't purchased Sieghart's ability to win the war. They had purchased access to his mana for as long as the eastern lord considered it useful. Edric and the other fighters had been summoned for the same reason, although their families probably received far less compensation. Sieghart felt anger stir beneath his ribs. That emotion made the mana associated with Fire Magic respond, but he suppressed it before a flame appeared.

Creating fire while waiting for Firians would be exceptionally stupid. Perhaps the strong people in town are protecting something important. It would be unfair to judge them before knowing everything. The reasonable thought failed to erase his suspicion. Sieghart had spent enough time around people with expectations to understand how easily responsibility traveled downward. Those with authority described sacrifice as necessary whenever someone else performed it.

Edric seemed to recognize the direction of his thoughts.

"The soldiers inside the town have their duties."

"And the people here have theirs."

"Yes."

"Convenient." His grandfather sighed.

"War usually is, for someone." Sieghart looked at Edric. The old man didn't appear offended because he probably understood the situation better than Sieghart did. Perhaps that was why he accepted it so quietly. Edric had grown up believing that people should fulfill the duties granted by their Auras and social positions. He might dislike how the temporary soldiers were being used without imagining any realistic alternative. Sieghart possessed no such loyalty to the system.

His family name meant little after the Emberharts sent him away. The kingdom hadn't provided his grandparents with protection, and the eastern lord had paid Sieghart's father instead of the person performing the work. If Sieghart helped defend the camp, he would do so because Edric and innocent people might die. He wouldn't pretend that the commanders above them deserved unquestioning obedience. The two remained beside the barricade while the night deepened.

Scouts returned periodically, reporting that no large enemy formation had entered the battlefield. Officers gradually reduced the number of soldiers standing in full formation. Keeping everyone awake throughout the night would leave them exhausted if the Firians attacked the following evening. The shield bearers were dismissed first. Then half of the archers returned to their tents, leaving rotating watches along the defensive line. Sieghart understood the decision. He still disliked it.

An army couldn't remain prepared indefinitely, especially after days of marching and fighting. The Firians only needed to wait until exhaustion weakened the defenders more effectively than fire. The camp settled into an uneasy routine. Some soldiers celebrated the unexpected peace by opening small bottles of alcohol they had hidden among their belongings. Others gathered around low fires, talking about returning home once the eastern offensive ended.

A few people claimed that Sieghart's water magic had frightened the Firians away. Their confidence grew as each uneventful hour passed. Sieghart heard one soldier predict that the enemy would abandon the region entirely. Another insisted that the Firians were probably arguing among themselves after losing so many warriors. The battle had produced confidence faster than evidence. Sieghart remained near the defensive line until Edric ordered him to sleep.

He considered refusing, but his grandfather appeared willing to carry him into the tent if necessary.

"I'll wake you if something happens." Sieghart followed him reluctantly. He maintained water-aligned Protection while lying upon his bedroll, testing how long he could preserve the altered state. The spell still switched off whenever he fell asleep. Preventing that weakness would require training his subconscious response, something Sieghart had no idea how to accomplish. He considered tying a string around his finger and attaching it to a bell.

The idea wouldn't maintain the spell, but at least being dragged by an enemy might wake him. My defensive strategy has progressed from magical experimentation to hoping that kidnappers are noisy. Outside, the camp grew quieter. The conversations ended one by one, and enchanted lanterns dimmed as soldiers entered their tents. Only the sentries remained fully alert. Sieghart listened for alarm horns while staring at the dark canvas above him. None sounded. Midnight approached without an attack.

The Firians had possessed several hours to move beneath darkness, yet scouts still reported nothing. Their absence gradually began feeling less like a trap and more like a genuine reprieve. Even Sieghart's concentration weakened. His altered Protection returned to its neutral state before disappearing entirely. Exhaustion pulled him into sleep despite the questions continuing to circle through his thoughts. The camp slept. For a while, nothing disturbed the darkness. Then Sieghart smelled smoke.

His eyes opened immediately. The scent was faint at first, slipping into the tent with the night wind. Smoke wasn't unusual inside a military camp, but this smelled different from the controlled cooking fires. It carried the dry, bitter odor of burning grass. Sieghart sat upright. Edric remained asleep beside him, but voices had begun rising outside. Someone shouted near the western edge of the camp, followed by hurried footsteps between the tents. The smell intensified with unnatural speed.

Smoke entered through the tent opening in visible gray streams. Sieghart activated Protection before leaving his bedroll, shifting the mana toward water while his heartbeat accelerated.

"Grandpa." Edric awakened at once.

"What is it?"

"Smoke." His grandfather reached for the enchanted bow and followed Sieghart outside. The quiet camp had transformed within seconds. Soldiers emerged from tents in partial armor, coughing as smoke rolled between them. Horses pulled against their restraints, and attendants shouted for water. An orange glow spread across the western horizon. That was the wrong direction. The Firians had always approached from the east, using the hills to conceal their formation.

Now flames were rising between the camp and the nearby town. Another glow appeared to the south. Then a third to the north. The dry vegetation surrounding the camp had ignited across several distant lines simultaneously. Wind pushed the smoke inward, filling the sleeping camp before most soldiers understood what was happening. The fires weren't random.

Someone had chosen the locations carefully, using the terrain and the night wind to surround the defenders with smoke while cutting off the clearest routes toward the town. The Firians hadn't abandoned their stored heat. They had spent the evening moving around the battlefield. Alarm horns finally sounded, their desperate notes breaking through the growing confusion. Fighters ran toward positions they had never prepared to defend.