The morning of the March, Alana, Kierra, Rolly, my succubi, and myself are seated on Alana’s bed, ready to discuss our strategy for the last time. The average person in our circumstances would probably have their shoulders hunched with tension and deep frowns on their faces. The air isn’t exactly cheery, there’s an undercurrent of tension, but there’s far more excitement. This isn’t a trial so much as it is a demonstration. A show.

“Are the walls safe?” Alana asks.

Geneva grins. “No one is listening.”

“Good. Then let’s discuss the plan one more time.” She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Last night, the final count of the enemy was fifty-eight, fifty-six hunters and two independent mercenaries. Their members are spread across three guilds; the Torchbearers, the Shadow Wolves, and One For All. The first two have an obvious grudge. The third is represented by the bronze and copper fodder fighters. I doubt they have any true idea what they’re getting their guild into but that’s a debt for Father to settle.

“At the moment, their plan is to use the weaker fighters to test our abilities and tire us out. We’re going to counter this by ensuring the no one wants to fight us. If their champions refuse to fight, their numbers become meaningless. Even better, it’ll degrade the mentality of the stronger fighters.”

She pauses and looks toward me. “Lou doesn’t want to be involved in this part.” I wince and she grabs my hand, squeezing it quickly to remind me that her words aren’t meant to cause offense. It should be obvious that not wanting to torture a man to horrify a crowd of on-lookers isn’t something to be ashamed of but it’s a little difficult to remember when you’re surrounded by people of a different opinion.

Even Alana is disturbingly accepting of the strategy. She wouldn’t want to do it herself but she didn’t bat an eye when it was suggested by my smiling succubus. Seriously, there is something really wrong with this place.

“Therefore, Kierra will be taking the first duel.”

My wife smiles, the harsh sound as she sharpens a small knife on black claws incredibly ominous. “I will show them a fate that will make them slit their own throats rather than face me.”

“…great.” Ha! Alana isn’t as unaffected as she would want me to believe. “The goal is to force them to submit. If we were fighting soldiers from Victory, surrender wouldn’t be an option but these hunters are going along with this out of a sense of camaraderie. They’re angry and willing to kill but few are willing to die. Especially the named hunters. They were reluctant to agree.”

Strong people that have survived too many battles to think this March an easy battle. They see Kierra as an unknown and their careers fighting manabeasts have taught them that the unknown is far more dangerous than the strong. If it weren’t for the extra money promised to them and the incredibly high stakes, they wouldn’t be bothered. The bronze and silver hunters have already signed on. If they are the only ones to fight, the three guilds they represent are as good as mine.

“If they surrender, they can escape the worst outcome. Our victory is practically guaranteed but Lou is right that if her true capabilities are revealed, we won’t have an easy life in Harvest. They’d never leave you alone. Ever.”

I sigh. I’m glad to finally have someone understand my worry. Kierra thinks spies and assassins galore is a good time. Geneva is indifferent. Alana can relate to the desire to hang on to a few strands of mediocrity. To be able to walk down the street without every eye widening in recognition, accompanied by either fear or awe.

“In the likely event that this doesn’t end in two or three fights, the strategy for the rest of the fights is simple. The two of you will alternate. Kierra takes one, Lou takes the other and draws out the fight until Kierra has fully recovered her mana.”

The last words are accompanied by a glare in the direction of the elf who laughingly said she could take on all the hunters without rest. Thanks to the succubi, we have some idea of all their capabilities but no idea as to how capable they are. Kierra has a pure affinity and the experience to support it but her coefficient is limited. Especially in this March, that forces her to confront all her opponents directly, that limit could be her downfall if she gets too cocky.

The rule of the March is that the duel doesn’t end until one of the fighters is dead. That means, I can cripple my opponent and let him bleed for hours to give Kierra time to recover. Normally, this kind of thing is countered by the physical limits of the fighters. After all, there are no breaks for food or sleep.

Drag the march out for three days and your champions are also sleeping on the snow without a bite to eat for three days. Again, not so much a problem for us but for normal knights, it would be a race to finish the March as their fighters’ conditions constantly deteriorate.

“But the fight is the least important part. What matters most is what happens after the March. Time will be of the essence.” Alana’s smile is sharp and sinister. “Zach will try to elect himself as the executor of the March, to ensure the rite is upheld. If he does, it would alleviate some of the monumental embarrassment he has brought upon himself. Not to mention, he could skimp us on what’s due. As he is still the favored heir, Father might even allow it.

“We cannot let this happen. He can and will screw us. Zach doesn’t speak. If he so much as opens his mouth, stop him. Even if you have to go through his bannermen. As long as he doesn’t die, I don’t care.”

“Geneva, that means you.”

“Of course, my summoner.” Her tail whips in amusement.

“After I declare that we will handle the collection of our spoils personally, I’m going to make a request to be put in charge of the hunters. That’ll really annoy my brother and compound his loss a hundred times. As soon as Father agrees—"

“What if he doesn’t?” I ask.

She sneers. “I’ve said it, haven’t I? Here, your worth is proportional to the blood you shed or the size of your victories. After dominating a March, I could ask for half the Moon’s armory and get it. He’ll give me what I ask.

“When he does, we have to grab every single hunter. Don’t worry about playing rough. The James family is the law. Every hunter is to be assembled. If we get the ones currently here marching to the right rhythm, it will make things much easier when the rest arrive. We still have two and a half weeks until the campaign. Many more hunters are going to arrive by then. We also need to control the rumors coming in and out. Used effectively, they’ll make claiming our winnings much easier.”

She pauses, looking between us to make sure we are following along. Or taking her seriously. I think I’ve unearthed a rare failing in my elven bride. When it comes to martial matters, it is difficult for her to take circumstances into consideration. She is so entranced by the hunt, the particulars of the situation can be neglected. Some might call it a narrow focus. Either way, dangerous to a plan. We’ve extracted a promise from her so it should be fine…I hope.

“And that should be the end of it. Afterwards, we can focus our attention on the campaign. I’d say it should be clear skies from then on but we seem to attract trouble. Does everyone understand?”

There are murmurs of agreement.

Alana nods and slips off the bed. “Good. Then I’m going to do the last part and meet with my siblings. If I’m bitter enough, they may think I’m being stubborn rather than confident. The less they expect, the better.”

With a small wave over her shoulder, she leaves the room. I hold my smile until the door closes behind her. Then it fades as a worry that has been growing stronger over the last three days becomes too big to ignore. “Geneva.”

The don in the guise of a thrall turns to me, eyes wide with innocence. I know she knows what I’m about to ask and she doesn’t look the slightest bit worried. That means nothing, as she is a phenomenal actor. “Yes, Lou?”

“Is this your fault?”

“No.”

“Did you do anything to encourage this event?”

She smiles prettily. “No.”

Hm. Maybe I’m being too paranoid. My orders are pretty thorough.

“…did you have any plans to gain some manner of influence over Victory? Either through me, you, Kii…or anyone else.”

Her smile falters. Then it stretches unnaturally wide. “Yes.”

Saints. It would have been that easy to drop my guard. I was so close to…I don’t know but it undoubtedly would have led somewhere horrible. “What was your plan? The whole of it, step by step.”

“I have been making unnecessarily stressful demands on the servants, especially in regard to Cloud and her animals. Eventually, when they were at the breaking point, I would leak the contents of your cargo to them. They would take it to Zach. Knowing him, he’d organize them to be sabotaged. I’d cripple the saboteurs horrifically. Then, I would stoke the anger of the servants. As they are already angry with Cloud, she would become the natural target of that anger.

“She would defend herself. Zach would create an issue of it to try and discredit Alana. More than likely, he would attempt to use Victory’s way of settling trouble with a duel to kill her to demoralize Alana. There is no way you would stand for it. Alana would keep you from retreating. The duke would grant the duel. You would intervene. For going against the ways of Victory, you would make yourself an enemy of Victory.

“What happens next depends on Alana. I believe she would walk away with you from Victory. In which case, another rejection would turn her desperation for approval into bitterness. Her hatred would guide you to lay ruin to Victory within three years. Perhaps less.

“In the less likely event that she chose her father over you, your grief would lead you to lay waste to the fort within months, if not immediately. You would leave the political side of things to me and I would have Victory as an unassailable stronghold in short order. That was the basic plan, allowing for bumps and curves along the way.”

“You…don’t you think the crown would get involved with that level of upheaval?”

“The succubi in the capital could cause more than enough trouble to distract the king. And he would happily be distracted. The nobles of this kingdom are accustomed to ignoring Victory and would be more than happy to be rid of the James.”

“How close were you to enacting this plan?”

“A day, maybe two. Things were derailed by this March.”

“Saints…Geneva.”

“Yes, my summoner?”

“Stop all plans regarding conquering Victory. Alana is in control of what happens to this place.”

“Of course.”

“No plans that will drive a wedge between me and my wives.”

Her tail whips faster. “Understood.”

“…and before you try to conquer some place, tell me.” Really. Problems only a summoner can understand. If I were a little saner, a little more cautious, or a little more capable, I’d kill this creature rather than risk her ruining my life. But all power comes with some risk. I can still manage this risk.

I think.

Kierra chuckles as she puts down a dangerously sharp dagger and grabs another, sharpening it against black claws.