level_main_13-05_end

No one can be told what a battlefield is. You have to see it for yourself.

My friends and I spent a lot of time in Norport's video shop watching old movies, many of them war movies. There were story of heroes, but also stories of terror, depicted by directors with a sadistic streak.

I remembered that the four of us all had nightmares that night.

Even now, I seem to be drifting in a dream.

We took on a few soldiers who were still breathing when we passed through that valley. Oh, and the survivors have caught up to our column.

They're all Infected. As they should be, after spending a night in a corpse-filled crater.

You did disinfect properly, didn't you? You could have gotten Active Originium dust on you.

Where are we, Hannah?

I'm a little...

Don't worry, I have experience with large-scale Active Originium zones from my time in County Hillock.

We undertook the cleanup according to SOP.

The soldiers were conscripts under the Duke of Ashworth. They said that their company simply pulled out after the battle, without rescuing the wounded or cleaning up the battlefield.

Horn? Is Hannah angry at me because I acted on my own?

Why is she ignoring me?

He said he had a friend who had been crying for help by a shallow puddle all night. Couldn't turn himself over because his legs were injured.

He had drowned by the time we found him.

The puddle was ankle-deep. He would have survived if someone had just flipped him over.

I examined the area. Looks like they marched into a Royal Court trap. Some Sarkaz mercenaries must have sacrificed themselves by acting as bait.

There's something on my chest?

I can't breathe... Morgan... Morgan?

I feel something hot roiling in my chest.

But... how could they have gone down without a fight?

That's not surprising. Other than the strongest dukes, professional soldiers make up only a quarter of the armies of the other ducal armies, at best.

Most Victorian soldiers are conscripted, sent into battle after only a few months of basic training on how to use a crossbow or Arts Unit.

Frankly, if not for this war, the officers and soldiers may never have spoken to each other their entire lives.

Vina wouldn't like to hear it.

I hate this. How could you trust your back to someone whom you don't trust?

Why does nobody hear me?

I feel the taste of iron in my mouth, something boiling, rushing up my throat.

Mother never answered my questions. She said I would find the answer, someday—

*Cough*... argh!

Vina!

Take it easy, Morgan... my neck... I can't breathe...

Sorry, got excited. You had been unconscious for two days.

You were running a fever. At least the wound on your chest was healing well, otherwise we would have been even more worried.

Where are we...? We aren't in Chetleigh anymore, are we?

They are silent. What happened?

Ahem... Maybe I should explain.

We pulled out two days ago. We're back to our original encampment.

At Horn's advice, we pulled out as quickly as possible before the Duke of Gododdin's fleet entered Chetleigh, avoiding direct contact with the reinforcements.

...Horn?

We have a lot of... complicated circumstances. It's going to cause a lot of complications if we establish official communications with the dukes' troops.

I've talked about this with Misery, and the others support what we're doing.

While we still have troops formerly under the command of Duke Windermere, their military ID has expired, and there's a high risk of 'friendly fire'.

Well, not so much expired as no longer recognized...

No need to mince words about the nobles' dirty deeds.

It's the same deal as gangs fighting for territory.

Indra's right.

Since when did the war become like this?

We could give help to where we can see, but what about the places beyond?

...What's the situation?

Some have chosen to join Duke Gododdin's forces and continue the fight. Gododdin's officers didn't even say anything about the Infected. The majority have chosen to stay with us, however.

They trust us. Or should I say, they trust you. We won! Morale is really high right now.

They're even joking about the old conflicts now.

We did it.

Your plan worked. We made it. It's very possible that no one will ever know the sacrifices we made...

It's just one small victory in a greater war.

I look at Delphine's tired face. A great burden has weighed upon her heart ever since she was left behind by the battleships.

But now, I see a rare smile on her face.

But we saved Chetleigh, Vina.

Yes, we did.

My brain tells me that I should be relieved or happy.

But I can't do it. I'm afraid to know how many stayed behind in that building, never to leave it.

Everything that happened there seems like a dream.

Is this what victory feels like? It's so weighty.

Would things have gotten so bad if everyone was fully committed to fighting for Victoria from the very beginning?

No, they all firmly believe that they are fighting for Victoria.

It's the other way round. Things have already spiraled out of control. Therefore...

We're fighting for ourselves now.

Siege, one of the survivors from Chetleigh has brought us a surprise.

His family collected Gaulish artifacts, and his father once picked up a little Victorian object from Lingones's former route.

It wasn't anything valuable, so it has been sitting in a warehouse for a long time. He gave it to us before we left as a gift of gratitude, and Horn recognized it immediately.

Here.

This is an IFF beacon used in IFVs. It emits a signal that allows Victorian armies to identify the bearer's affiliation.

It contains a military identification code?

Yes. This black box belonged to the Victorian Army. I'm familiar with the symbol on it.

But I thought that the unit that it once belonged to no longer exists, lost in the ruins of Gaul—

—the Exemplars.

A unit of legend, predecessor to Tempest Platoon. This thing took a long journey back to Victoria.

Back to us.

'The Exemplars'...

The present dukes may not recognize this ancient unit. At best, it might prevent direct artillery strikes.

But the more important thing is...

The mission of the unit was inscribed inside the box.

<i>The Exemplars</i>

<i>'We make miracles.'</i>

...Hah.

Consider it a gift from fate.

What's this...? The beacon that Lieutenant Shearer left us has picked up a signal.

Shearer?

Lady Delphine, there has been a change of circumstances at Irnclad Galavae...

We are approaching your position now. ETA in one hour.

Be prepared for unhappy news... and a guest who insists on seeing you.

Your wounds! What a shoddy work of first aid!

It may look like the wounds have closed, but the inflammation wasn't effectively treated, which explains the fever.

With serious wounds like these, it's important that they're treated by a doctor and all vital signs monitored, reducing the chance of lingering after-effects.

You're fortunate that it was a piece of metal, not Originium crystal. When you're dealing with Sarkaz witchcraft devices, even the slightest touch could be infectious.

Even if it wasn't directly caused by Originium, there was a high risk of infection given the circumstances. It's incredible that your blood Originium levels still remain at normal levels.

You really should thank your lucky stars.

Well, it was a chaotic situation, Lieutenant.

At least I'm alive. It pays to have a strong constitution.

...*sigh*.

Fine. Lady Delphine has explained what happened.

It was a battle worthy of study in the war colleges, given the difference in strength between the two sides. Most of the people on your side weren't even regulars...

Oh? Should I be sad that no one will remember what we did?

You're wrong on that, Siege.

I'll remember. The soldiers outside will remember. The survivors of Chetleigh will remember.

Most legends are not born from official records.

I didn't know you were the type to say things like that.

Ahem.

Well, I've wrapped your wounds again. Don't try to blow me off with excuses like 'strong constitution', because I'm going to be keeping a close eye on your condition. I'm the doctor in this room.

I'll be checking on your friends too, and the injured soldiers and civilians.

Thanks, Lieutenant.

Also...

I suggest you check on that guest. I'm not sure if Lady Delphine is ready to handle her on her own.

I sincerely apologize for my behavior before, and my misplaced assessment about you.

There is one thing on which I won't budge, however. You're too impulsive and emotional.

You shouldn't be trying to solve every problem on your own. Turn around once in a while, and you'll find plenty of people ready to help.

*Glug* *glug*— whew!

Take it easy, Aunt Manning.

The Sarkaz were everywhere on my way here! I thought I was going to die.

Thank goodness that Lieutenant Shearer was tracking Irnclad Galavae, which was how he got there in time to save my life.

He's a decent man, but lacks flexibility. Those men would never allow him to board the ship.

You said you escaped Irnclad Galavae? What's happening there?

It makes me angry just thinking about it! Those damned officers charged into the central hub of the fortress and pointed their swords at me! Marquess Vontaire must be behind this!

I found an opportunity to change into inconspicuous clothes and escape. The fortress elevator almost ripped my dress!

Sounds like you really were lucky.

I thought I was just coming along with your mother to see how things were going on the front lines, and to take you home. What's the worst that could happen, safe inside a nomadic fortress? Who would have thought...?

The old Dukes of Windermere would be proud of Mother.

You're right.

But you're the Duke of Windermere now, Delphine.

Auntie, you're hurting me... what's that look on your face?

The general staff were eager to go back because... they believed the Duke's death was caused by a Leithanian plot.

You want to laugh, don't you? But they have evidence. Leithanien may not be in league with the Sarkaz, but they undoubtedly caused this situation.

What? Leithanien?

The staff are cautious about accusing Leithanian nobles directly, but they have set their sights on the rebellions going on the provinces.

No one wants to come all this way to fight the Sarkaz, only to return and find the demesne they have defended for centuries has fallen under Leithanian control.

You're her daughter, Delphine. Your duty will come soon.

Now, let me rest... then we'll leave this place.

Leave? To where?

You should not be with these peasants.

Watch your words! Don't call them peasants!

Alright, Delphine, listen.

If you really care about them, really think that they're heroes, a part of Victoria...

...Think of how many people like them are there in your mother's demesne.

If you really want to protect these people, take my advice and seek aid from the Duke of Caster to return to your demesne and take charge.

Perhaps you will have to become a Caster vassal... but you'll be able to fulfill your duty.

I—

What are you balking at? Did you fall in love with them just because they fought alongside you? You've stopped loving your own subjects?

Accept it, Delphine... you and your mother have suffered enough.

Accept Duke Caster's proposal, and at least Windermere will be spared from devastation.

Why do you hesitate? Do you really want to be a vagabond forever, leaving your family, your bloodline and your duty behind?

...I understand.

I'm Mother's daughter. You're right, I have a responsibility, not just to my friends, but to the subjects of Windermere as well.

But...

Why did the Swordguards leave me behind, when I still had such a duty?

If this was a duty glorious beyond all doubt, why do you come to me in such a condition?

I...

You're right. If Windermere has fallen under the cloud of conspiracy, then I feel both the obligation and desire to do something about it.

But I...

We're with you, Delphine. Say what you want to say.

Sorry. I couldn't hold back anymore.

Do you know what we just went through, madam?

And you are...?

I'm not going with you.

You have a duty!

I'm my mother's daughter, comrade to these warriors, and nothing else.

Even if I once was... I don't believe it anymore.

I stood here for them, so that their lives would no longer be the playthings of people like you, and I'm not going anywhere until I've bled my last.

Leave.

I hope the Sarkaz don't take you.

The Viscount's face is a spectacle of color, but Delphine gives her no further chance to speak.

She leaves with her head bowed in the direction of Lieutenant Shearer.

Delphine's expression is calmer than I thought it would be. What she said... what she went through...

It made me think of an old friend.

Delphine did not make the same mistake. Tragedy will not strike again.

But what was the price?

The death of a loved one. A swift betrayal.

Apparently, I was rather concerned how Delphine would react to these things.

Delphine smiles at me. It seems she has settled down.

I'm fine. Let's go.

The same thing cannot happen again.

Head west once you leave the camp. If you're lucky enough, you should be able to reach the kind Duke of Caster.

Do you think you can survive without the Duke's protection?

We can, and we will.

Alright... I'm going to Duke Caster. I'll take a leisurely pace. This is your last chance.

Come with me, and we'll all live.

I won't stop you.

But the work of Delphine and her mother...

No, I'm not the one who's wrong... you're naive, stupid, foolishly believing that you're right.

So be it.

I see her off on a vehicle not meant for rough terrain, leaving under the cover of darkness with a small escort.

I turn around to look at our group.

Hundreds, thousands of eyes converge upon a single spot. Some are soldiers laughing with each other, others are civilians, celebrating.

The camp falls silent.

They are waiting for an answer.

Mine.

You heard her. It was undoubtedly an attractive proposal for many people.

We survived the worst of times together, Vina.

But what now? What happens when the morale and spirit that burns so brightly now is worn away by hardship and suffering?

Who will tell them where to go?

I do not answer, not yet.

...He's here.

A creature with golden mane walks amongst the crowd. He looks at me.

I wanted to see the answer in his eyes, hear a word of advice in these fleeting moments.

But he gives no answers. All he does is look at me, waiting for me to find the answer.

Yes. Perhaps he is not even there.

Lend me your ears.

If any among you still have faith in the proud dukes that are the faces of our Victoria, you should go with that woman now.

No one would fault your decision.

The crowd rustles, but no one leaves.

None among you?

Is it not our instinct to seek protection from the powerful? It's nothing to be ashamed of.

I would very much like to. Oh how I wish that this sorry sword I carry had the power to protect my friends, such that none among them would die.

She would very much like to. How many times has she cried when no one was watching? Wishing that someone could have saved her mother's life.

You would very much like to. Don't look away, I know you would. The Sarkaz wouldn't have butchered your brother so badly you couldn't even identify his corpse, if the troops that were supposed to escort you didn't flee.

But none among you have left.

You know that those nobles don't care about you in the slightest.

But do you really need to seek the strength and protection of another?

It's always been like that for us. We keep worshipping people and things that never really gave us anything, become their willing slaves.

Massacre, infection, besiegement. We survived all that, on our own strength!

We all want to go home. We all want this rotten war to end. But we can't win by hiding.

The fastest way is to give those warmongering bastards hiding in Londinium the old one-two in the face!

If the dukes won't do it, we will!

If no one will take us home, we'll walk home ourselves!

A gift fell into our laps, a unit ID that the dukes left behind in Gaul.

It was called the Exemplars. They were elites, the will of the nation, with a long list of accolades.

But now, they are nothing more than this little box in my hands.

It has no special powers. But we can take it back to Londinium—

Punch those warmongering bastards in the face, throw this in the faces of the dukes, and tell them—

This bloody land is OUR land!

I want to go home, to the gym where my friends were.

They want to go home, to the lives they once had.

We cannot rely on others anymore. We cannot expect justice to be served on its own.

I smash my hammer into the earth with all the strength I can muster.

I do not know why I did it. All I know is that I can no longer hold back my anger.

Bam!

The hammer silences all other sounds.

'The Exemplars!'

It's the Glasgow Gang that first breaks the silence.

'The Exemplars!'

Then, they are joined by Delphine.

'The Exemplars!'

Until everyone joins in.

'The Exemplars!' 'The Exemplars!' 'The Exemplars!'

Say, I had a strange dream—

I dreamed that a golden beast was taking a walk through our camp.

Good omen, perhaps?

Let's hope it all goes smoothly.

Wonder if the Self-Salvation Corps arrived at Brentwood before us...

We'll have even more hands once we join up with them.

Who would have thought, a few days ago, that we would have our own army?

I kind of like the name the Exemplars.

Are you sure about this though, Vina? Are we bringing all of them back to Londinium?

Very few of them are ready to fight the Royal Court head-on.

Perhaps...

There will be more sacrifices along the way.

I'll protect them.

Or maybe there will come a day when they don't need anyone's protection anymore.