Noble V: Greylancer (17 page)

“I beg of you to overlook what you’ve seen here.”

“It appears the sodden air of the war council has done something to my eyes.” Greylancer
affected a bleary-eyed look. “We possess the technology to manufacture drill-shaped
tanks with liquid metals, yet we cannot escape the old,” he said, referring to the
crude build of the subterranean vehicle. By all appearances, it was beyond outdated—rather
like an ancient toy weapon out of a magazine from eons ago. The body was even held
together with steel rivets. “Perhaps the height of the Nobility’s fondness for anachronism.
I shall not stop you, but will you not reconsider?”

“I’m surprised you would ask. The battle is decided in life and death. I can no longer
stand idly by on the battlefield in uncertainty.” Krolock rolled up his sleeves and
said, “Just you see, Lord Greylancer. If we cannot breach the castle from underground
and capture Mayerling, we shall destroy his castle. Even if we must undermine its
foundations and sink it into the mantle layer.” The young Noble smiled an invincible
smile.

Greylancer looked on silently as the steel moles burrowed, one after the next, into
the earth. The roar of the machines was stifled by the earth itself as they pushed
under the surface. “A dreadful thing,” he muttered to himself.

Overhearing this, a white-haired officer who happened nearby asked, “How do you mean?”

Greylancer’s answer was immediate. “That such a young Noble must perish before the
likes of you.”

The counterinsurgency camp
was shrouded in tension.

A senior officer in Krolock’s unit had reported the young general’s covert attack
to Mircalla.

“They will be disciplined upon their return,” Mircalla answered as if she’d predicted
it all along. Then she informed her top brass.

It would have been only natural for the fifty unit commanders to storm into headquarters
in a fit of rage.

However, when only two officers had come to register complaints, Greylancer let slip
a bitter smile. “So our morality has slackened to this.”

Mircalla smiled. “I pray it is only our morality.”

“What else—”

“Our souls.” Mircalla laid a hand on her generous bosom. “Would you mind if I sighed?”

“It doesn’t suit you.”

Mircalla waved her hand in the air instead.

An aerial schematic of Mayerling’s castle appeared.

“Such an elegant castle,” said Mircalla, making no secret of her admiration.

“Indeed. Noble castles have typically been rustic. However, everything about House
Mayerling is unconventional.”

“And what do you make of that?”

“Make, Commander?”

“It is an act of defiance against the Nobility. Vlijmen Mayerling’s father, Ryan Mayerling—he,
too, was a nonconformist. A human sympathizer. He began this travesty of abolishing
every tribute but one, demanding only a blood tithe, which he did not drink directly
from humans himself.”

“I am aware.”

“Then are you aware of the Privy Council’s plot, Lord Greylancer?”

“I have heard whispers, yes.”

“If they are allowed to liberate even the Frontier, this world will essentially fall
into the hands of the Privy Council. You and I both know, the Sacred Ancestor entrusted
us with overseeing the Frontier fearing this very outcome. We must carry out his will
if this planet falls to ruin. Why would Chancellor Cornelius covet control over the
Frontier, rather than the world, at the expense of the Sacred Ancestor’s will? And
so suddenly?”

“Why indeed,” answered Greylancer, even as he wondered just what Mircalla and Zeus
were plotting. He felt a smile escape his lips. The Noble was not averse to intrigue.
In fact, if overseeing the Frontier had taught him anything, it was that chicanery
was part of the Nobles’ natural disposition. “Commander Mircalla,” said Greylancer.
“What is Zeus—”

“Commander,” interrupted a mechanized voice.

“What is it?” asked Mircalla blankly.

“We detected ten explosions two thousand meters below ground.” The voice reported
the coordinates and continued, “It is thought to be the location of Lord Krolock’s
Landross.” Mircalla closed her eyes, while Greylancer let out a sigh. “A massive unidentified
body is ascending from the explosion. It’s burrowing this way. At its current course,
it will surface in the middle of Lord Greylancer’s encampment at 19:19.”

Greylancer cocked his head down at the gold badge on the collar of his cape. “This
is Greylancer. Inform the men to fall back ten kilometers east within four minutes.
Transfer weapons and provisions by 19:18. But if it cannot be done, abandon all equipment.”

Mircalla directed her wan countenance toward her second in command. Try as she might,
the duchess could not hide her shock. “A Noble the likes of Greylancer giving an order
to abandon weapons and flee? Do my eyes deceive me?”

“I am not entirely certain myself,” he answered morosely. “Commander, you should get
yourself to safety immediately. Whatever this thing is will surface in the midst of
our troops, but it may still be capable of laying waste to the entire army.”

“Yes, I am aware.” Mircalla rose to her feet with a grace that would elicit any watcher’s
sighs.

Within three minutes, the army had retreated to its designated position.

The earth ruptured, and the gargantuan ground dweller revealed itself before the eyes
of the terrestrial world.

Whether its morphology was suited to surviving underground was questionable.

When the creature emerged fully from the ground, it stood two hundred meters tall
and three hundred meters long, with plates made of bedrock covering its beetle-shaped
body. An avalanche of dirt and gravel spilled down from between its densely packed
plates, snapping the trees below like toothpicks. The two protuberances on the sides
of its head appeared to be eyes that had atrophied from disuse. The prolegs lining
the ventral part of the abdomen gripped the ground.

General Yunus, Greylancer’s second in command, had pulled back the barrier along with
his men, so that it cornered the creature against Mayerling’s barrier behind it.

The creature charged forward, as was its instinct, crashed against the barrier shielding
the Greylancer forces, and was repelled back. Rather than maneuver laterally, which
was clear of obstacles, it continued to face off against the invisible wall.

A white mist began to emanate from the creature’s flanks.

“What is that?” asked Mircalla from the newly transferred headquarters.

“Those rocky plates on its exoskeleton are no ordinary scales,” Greylancer answered.
“They’re likely vibrating plates for moving through the earth. If I’m right, this
is about to get interesting.” The Noble let slip a grin.

“I fail to see the humor in this.”

Before Mircalla had scarcely finished, a mechanized voice reported, “Commander, our
barrier is weakening!”

Stunned, Mircalla let out, “No! Can the creature be…?”

“It’s emitting an oscillatory wave used to crush gravel and rock as it burrows through
the earth. It might be more powerful than the gravitational barrier can bear,” explained
Greylancer, amused. This unfamiliar creature was a precious plaything that made the
warrrior’s heart dance with excitement. “When the barrier is destroyed, deploy air
chariots. Attack the creature from behind.”

“From behind?” Mircalla asked.

“Yes.” The Noble’s eyes gleamed. “The barrier is weakening.” He eyed the holographic
screen projected in the air, where the creature charged the invisible barrier again,
broke through, and scuttled toward the Greylancer forces deployed before it.

Air chariots shot into the air as if to escape but quickly circled back and dropped
several black objects at the moving target’s abdomen.

A dimensional corrosion bomb hit one of the rock plates and opened a hole about ten
meters in diameter, which grew gradually larger.

The bomb was designed to rend a hole in the dimension and drag its target into another
dimension. No monster had the means to escape it.

“It’s glowing again,” said Mircalla, to which Greylancer nodded.

The creature was wrapped in a dazzling white light. After a moment when the glow dissipated,
the gaping hole in the creature’s abdomen had stopped expanding.

The oscillation wave had halted the dimensional corrosion.

“This thing is too dangerous,” said Mircalla, shaking her head.

“Wait.”

As if prompted by Greylancer’s voice, the massive creature, weighing perhaps tens,
if not hundreds of thousands of tons, spun 180 degrees in the other direction.

Mayerling’s barrier now loomed before it. The creature began to glow again.

“Look, not even Mayerling’s barrier will slow it down.”

With the creature’s every advance, the ground sank around it, destroying buildings
nearby.

This had been Greylancer’s strategy all along—to attack the creature from behind to
trick it into believing that the attack was Mayerling’s doing and to coerce it into
destroying the barrier.

“Now, Commander!”

Mircalla gave only a curt nod. “Mobilize the entire army toward the breach point!”

The army generals had already been briefed in the event of a full-scale offensive.

Beneath the moonlight, the counterinsurgency forces commenced their advance.

Mircalla blinked her eyes in astonishment.

A single chariot shot into the sky over Mayerling’s dominion as if in want of the
first strike. Just who was—?

Mircalla glanced to her right.

Her second in command had vanished.

†

Bathed in moonlight, Greylancer raced the air chariot toward Castle Mayerling.

The wind lashed his face like a sea of whips. The Noble had no use for a barrier.
Clashing against the elements headfirst was how Greylancer took the fight to the enemy.

He made visual confirmation of Castle Mayerling. No antiaircraft fire or intercepting
vessels. Even as he suspected a trap, Greylancer thought,
The Devil may care, but I alone shall be the one to perish.

“Full ahead!”

No sooner had he shouted these words than Mircalla’s face floated up before him on
the chariot’s monitor. “The operation has been called off, Lord Greylancer.”

“What?” he blurted out.

“Mayerling’s generals have officially abdicated. The battle is over. Redirect your
efforts to destroying the subterranean creature.

“Mayerling’s dominion is now under the control of the central government. We must
eliminate any threat ravaging the territory. When that is done, you will accompany
me to the surrender agreement.”

“Understood.”

The castle keep drew closer up ahead.

Saying nothing, Greylancer turned the chariot around and set course for the subterranean
monster. The look pasted on his face had far surpassed anger; he wore an expression
only of blank indignation.

Once a surrender agreement had been reached, the top commanders besieged Greylancer
with questions.

The brunt of their censure was directed at the fact that Greylancer had killed Mayerling
and concealed his death and for his daring to go against the war council’s decision
and act alone.

For the former violation, Mircalla explained that Greylancer had been acting on her
orders. As for the latter, it was decided that Greylancer would be disciplined pending
the Privy Council’s deliberation.

After enduring the litany of charges against him in silence, Greylancer rose from
the table, shot a vicious look that nearly drained blood from the faces of the self-satisfied
generals, and exited the chamber. Outside, he caught up with General Berneige, a commander
in Mayerling’s army, as he was preparing to return to the castle.

“Where is Mayerling’s tomb?” Greylancer asked.

“Oh, do you wish to lay some flowers?”

Greylancer bared his fangs. “A true warrior would take no pleasure in such a gesture
from the enemy.” Then he lowered his voice and said, “There is a matter I wish to
look into.”

“He lies in the basement altar of House Mayerling inside the castle.”

“Very well. I shall be there in an hour’s time. I pray the door will be open.” Greylancer’s
eyes glinted with a look of resolve.

†

Never had the burden of war been so light on the attacking army, and never had there
been a more dissatisfying end to fighting.

As fortunate an outcome a bloodless surrender was, a battle was an opportunity for
warriors to win both distinction and reward. Had the castle fallen, they were also
free to plunder its spoils. Since time immemorial, it was an unwritten law of war.

Yet this engagement had provided no such opportunity. The enemy commander had been
defeated before battle, and his surviving generals could do little more than fight
back tears and their own bloodlust to honor their master’s orders of an unconditional
surrender of the castle.

Naturally, the generals of the counterinsurgency forces had directed their ire at
Greylancer.

Plenty of past commanders who’d found themselves in the same circumstance had been
assassinated. That Greylancer had not suffered the same fate was a testament to his
might.

An hour later, Greylancer had set foot inside the catacombs. Aside from the chief
steward ushering them inside, the Noble brought with him only one companion—not a
soldier but a protégé he’d taken under his wing.

Moonlight shone down upon the spacious floor, the stone cobbled walls and extravagant
coffins each taking up space in numerous depressions in the walls.

The moon, stars, and sky above were all holographic projections.

Greylancer asked the steward leading the way, “Would you say your master was a vain
man?”

“Gracious, no!” The blond-haired steward shook his head. “Lord Mayerling never expressed
interest in worldly acquisitions. If by chance you are referring to the coffin, his
lordship was merely honoring the wishes of his father.”

“So it was his old man who was vain.” Greylancer tapped one of the coffins with his
silver lance.

Because they were blessed with agelessness, few Nobles ever died.

Though ancestral coffins lined the catacombs after the burial methods of human noble
houses, the coffins were nothing more than decoration holding not a single corpse.
That Greylancer felt compelled to ask after Mayerling’s vanity spoke to just how many
Nobles were given to such an unnecessary practice.

“This way,” said the steward at last, a bit crossly, after escorting Greylancer and
his companion in silence. Stopping, he gestured toward the door ahead. “The tomb of
the last head of House Mayerling.”

When Greylancer opened the door, a cavernous chamber more spacious than the last spread
before him.
This is no illusion
, thought the Noble.

In the center of the marble floor roughly two hundred meters ahead lay a coffin atop
a bronze altar encircled by four candle stands. Orange-colored flames danced in the
reflection of the surface of the coffin.

There was a scar where Greylancer’s lance had pierced the lid.

“I can go no further,” said the steward. “When your business is done, please see yourselves
out.”

Leaving the escort at the door, Greylancer and his retainer passed through the doors
of the chamber.

The Noble took about fifty strides toward the altar and stopped.