"All troops, halt! Pause!"
But that was a long time ago.
Of course, they had no way of knowing that Shem's main force would be at the oasis near the "anvil of demons", and Mongol's army was resting on the move.
"There's a dust storm coming. The sky is getting cloudy."
Amneris looks up at the sky, his brow furrowed.
"Gayus, direction."
"Generally speaking, our troops will not be harmed in any way. However, in a storm, those monsters are likely to come to the surface frequently. I think it would be best to inform the captains to be careful.
"Hmm."
Amneris shrugged his shoulders, his unfathomable green eyes glowing with disgust as he looked out at the swell of sand that resembled a white ocean.
"It's a cursed land."
He mutters in a hushed voice. As it grew darker around us, we could not advance without the danger of stepping carelessly into the id or slipping into the pit of the giant anteater. Amneris's face seemed calm and composed, but beneath it lurked a growing sense of urgency and frustration.
"It's possible that Shem's raids are part of the storm. Send word to your captains to be very careful."
"is."
"Even so... it's hard to live with all this. We'll soon run out of food. Before that happens, I'd like to deal with Shem and the others, but we can't just keep fighting ...."
Amneris's murmurings grew lower and lower.
But he shouted again,
"It would be better to stay somewhere, send out scouts in all directions to find the location of Shem's village, and then use our main force to eradicate them."
"is ..."
"Hmm--"
Amneris was pensive, as if he could not make up his mind.
"The village of Shem--"
Words like faint breaths escape from his mouth.
"What? Did he say anything to you?
"I'd like to find out where Shem's village is, somehow."
"Gyoi."
"Like this--"
Amneris's voice suddenly took on a harsh, irritating tone.
"I don't like the idea of dragging on like this! What a waste of time for a mere monkey barbarian! I have a great mission. I have a great and urgent mission that will decide the fate of Mother Mongol! Why do barbarians stand in my way!"
"Ha!"
"Gayus!"
"Ha!"
"Military conference. Call the captains and set up the tents. If you think about it, we don't have to be on the receiving end of Shem's bickering all the time and let him do what he wants. The only one who bothers us is Guin, the Leopard. The rest are just a bunch of monkeys."
Gayus gasped.
Amneris did not look at Ghayus. Her eyes shone like fires against the darkening desert with the coming of the sandstorm, and her lips were bitten to the bone. The lady seemed to have given herself permission to let the passions that she had been suppressing in her own body to flare up at once. She was frighteningly beautiful.
"Your Highness: ..."
"Gayus!"
Amneris immediately struck the saddle jar violently with his small fist.
"No more waiting. Let's get this over with. There are two things on my mind. To find out where Shem's village is and to put an end to Shem, and then..."
"..."
"And to raise Guin's head rank!"
"Is--"
"I don't care who he is! By any means necessary, his life is mine. Gayus, tell me your fortune."
"I understand."
"Message! Military conference. Order!
Amneris jumped down from the horse with a flutter and began to cross the camp at a quick pace, as if he was waiting for the messenger to come rushing to him.
Her white cloak was flipped up, and under the sky, which was now as dark as if it had been stained with India ink, only her shiny golden hair shone as brightly as in the Palace of Light in the ancient city of Nantes.
At the moment when she is walking with her knights, the knights quickly jump out of the horse, clear the way, put their swords to their chests, and bow erectly.
Amneris didn't pay attention to that either.
We have to take Guin's head. Then Shem will be destroyed at once.
I wonder why I had not noticed such a simple thing until now, and I am thinking about it, rather as if I am annoyed with myself. My head is burning, my heart is thumping, and I feel as if I want to stand at the head of the line and force myself to do it right now, which makes me walk faster.
"Message-- message! What are you doing, Feldrick-Milor?
Amneris shouted at the top of his voice.
She didn't even notice the strange expression on Gayus' face as he looked away from her, behind her, secretly under his hood.
Gayus - the old mage's eyes are fixed on the shining back of Amneris, dark with a magical gleam.
But soon his eyes became more downcast and he hid his sinister form behind a black cloak,
"Here, set up the tent, the basin and the ouija board. Hurry up."
He commanded his servants. No one knew better than he how angry Amneris would be that his orders were not carried out without fail.
For such an occasion, they carry a simple tent made of four pillars and a black cloth stretched over them. When the dark-skinned servant of the Caravians had placed a rug inside a small square tent set up in the sand, painted a pentagram of gold and sand, and lit incense to scare people away, Gayus hurried into the tent.
But not long after, he came out in a panic and called to Kar-Mor, a Kitai who was sitting still in the saddle on a horse nearby.
"Lord Kal-Mor. Come here for a moment. Take a look at this basin."
A shrill voice indicates that he is secretly upset.
When the Eastern mage who had risen from the dead entered the fortune-telling tent with his crippled body, Gayus pointed with an indescribably strange expression to a huge basin of water and a fortune-telling board set up beneath it.
"This, my dear--"
Kal-Mor's inaudible voice crackles.
"This again."
"I am ashamed to say that I have never seen such a bizarre pattern before."
Gayus seemed to be seized by a great deal of anxiety and turmoil, which was stronger than his pride and pride as a mage.
"This is not good luck, this is not bad luck, what on earth are you trying to tell me ...?"
"No luck. This is my camp. There is a star of fire in my camp that is evil and future at the same time."
"What was this combination doing here in the first place?"
"Sir Gayus. In the East, where my country is located, it is called a revolution when a star contains two completely different meanings at the same time, but ..."
"At any rate, it is certain that at this moment, there are seeds of a grave change in the ranks of my Mongol army. What should I tell Your Highness about this?"
"The light of the star of light is streaming out."
Kal-Mor's bony fingertips pointed at the Ouija board, trembling.
"The light is flowing to the east. In the direction of the east there is a magnetic force which is disturbing the life of the light star."
"I know what that means. The princess is fascinated by the Leopard with a strength she didn't know was there. She gets very upset when I mention the half-breed and becomes even more violent to cover it up."
Gayus's fingers groped at the hollow of the Ouija board.
"But this is the way it is, and I cannot change the direction of the light as it should be."
"All things work together for good."
Cal-Mor says slow.
"It's just--"
"Just?"
"However, there are so many stars clustered together in the land of Nosferus, and so many of them play such a significant and influential role in the destiny itself, that the distribution of power in the Golden Rule is disrupted to an excessive degree."
"Where is the source of this power that works on us?"
"I don't know. But--"
Kal-Mor let out a chuckle.
"Lord Gayus. We are one of the patterns in this cloth."
"That's true, but... this planet of fire, this is the one thing I don't agree with."
"Certainly not. Perhaps it is because what this planet contains has not yet been born."
"This morning, when I did my regular divination, there was no such anomalous star in my camp. ..."
Across the alabaster basin with its strange swirling patterns and the Ouija board, the two mages continued their conversation in hushed tones.
But that, of course, could not reach outside the fortune-teller's tent, where a star was painted in gold on a black background.
"Oh, dear."
"Finally, it's time for my army to make its move."
With the discovery of Amneris's resolute appearance and the spread of the voices of the messengers announcing the military council, the army of Mongol began to be filled with energy like a ripple.
The fact that they are just standing back and taking the fight to the other side is somehow damaging the morale of the army. Seeing that the princess has finally made up her mind to fight a decisive battle, the army of Mongol, which has only been irritated by Shem's repeated surprise attacks, is now bracing itself.
"In fact, once our troops take a serious stand, those barbarians won't be able to stand a chance."
"If only we had launched an all-out attack earlier, Little Count Regan might not have died."
"Hey, don't say that."
"Yes, I'm sure Master Amneris has his own agenda. He's always right."
"Hey."
The younger infantrymen whispered softly to each other, unheard by the chattering knights.
"If we annihilate the Shemites, will we be on our way home soon?"
"If you're lucky enough to survive, complete your mission, and join the return party."
"Oh, I can't wait to get home. No more sand and barbarians for me.
"Hey, if I hear you, I'll whip you."
"I don't care if you eat it. I'm sick and tired of sand, sand, sand. I don't care what it takes, I'm going to kill them and I'm going home to the green and beautiful river Kes."
"Your voice is high. Kuwabara, Kuwabara."
"Ah, by now, I'm sure they're harvesting the vacha fruit in Audain."
A sandstorm was approaching. The sandstorm posed no direct danger to the Mongols, but the wind began to pick up, and though it was not yet very close to nightfall, the area became as dark as sunset, and as it did, the howls of desert wolves intermingled with the roar of the wind, and desert lizards and sandworms fled like mad, Desert lizards and sandworms could be seen here and there, fleeing madly or crawling into the sand.
The angel hair began to fly in the dusty wind that blew, and the sand-colored desert mugwort, one of the few plants that grow in the sand, was pulled out of the sand by its roots, and came crashing down on the faces of the knights, or was blown over their heads. They were blown over their heads. It was as if the desert of Nosferus had suddenly decided to remind men of the greatness of the grace it had bestowed upon them, and to show them its own true, merciless and cruel face.
"What a place."
The infantryman who lamented earlier about his homeland says...
"It's a land forsaken by God."
and colleagues.
"If I'd known it was like this, I'd have paid the fine and avoided military service."
"In times like these..."
He turned his face and squinted at the wind, which was blowing with fine dust, anxiously.
"If the Semites were to attack us at a time like this, we might be in a lot of pain."
It was also, of course, a source of concern for the main brain department.
"I hear the council is ready for war."
When Garance came to tell him, Count Mars turned a frown of concern on his face.
"What an ill-timed thing. Just when the princess has finally decided to fight back, here in this land, even the heavens are on Shem's side."
"This is Shem's land, you know."
It was Erl of Argon who spoke up, quite cheerfully.
In a very short time, he had become a favorite of the old Count. Originally, his resemblance to the son of the Count of Mars in the distant city had made the old Count want to keep him at hand as an aide-de-camp, but on top of that, this brash, impudent, and brazen young man had a strange charm that could make people fall in love with him if he wanted to. If he wanted to, he could make people like him.
"Besides, we won't be able to move during the sandstorm anyway. It would be more convenient if we could discuss the matter and go out as soon as the storm clears."
Garance has a soothing look on his face.
"This time, Your Highness will want to finish it off with an all-out attack."
"That's the way it has to be. If not, I would have advised you to do so and asked you to listen to me."
Count Mars swept the dust from the hem of his cloak and cleaned himself up.
"Now, don't keep the Princess waiting, or she'll be very angry, Garance."
"If it's decided to launch a general attack, I'd really like to have my troops take over the pursuit unit."
Elle seduced him with a mischievous gleam in her eye.
"We're all itching to take down Shem."
"That's the spirit."
Count Mars praised him. He nodded several times in satisfaction and looked at Elle with a kind look, as if he were looking at his son or grandson.
"All right, I'll take over the spearhead."
Then, with Garance in tow, he strode toward the tent of war that had been hastily erected.
The knights and men had much to do to prepare for the coming battle and Shem's surprise attack in the sandstorm. The sentry was doubled in number, and patrols were sent out incessantly in all directions, with the clatter of heavy swords.
Following Count Mars, Asturias, Tanguard, Ilm, Feldrick, and the others, accompanied by Pollack, entered the tent in a hurry. All the faces are brave and tightly drawn, as if to say, "We can finally come out of our coasting sleep.
Soon afterwards, the curtain that had been hung from the tent was quickly lowered.
The wind rumbled and the number of angel hair increased.
"There's a sandstorm coming."
"If it gets too windy, raise your cloak, protect your face from the sand crush, and stay behind the horse."
"The sentry must not face the wind with his cheeks up. You'll get sand in your eyes."
"Do not let Shem take you. Keep your ears and eyes open, and never let your guard down."
"The storm should be over in a day or two. In the meantime, do not leave your post. Take your provisions, ease your body, and try to keep your strength up."
"Remember, never go it alone."
One after another, a messenger brings a message.
As if to say, "I know that," Elle watched as the servant took care of Count Mars' beloved horse, then wandered back to her own horse.
He slips his hand into a small pocket on the inside of the horse's saddle and pulls out a piece of parchment. He hides behind the horse, puts on his cloak, and writes something down.
Soon, satisfied, he popped his head out of his cloak.
"What the . What are you writing about?"
He thought no one would be watching, but as soon as he popped his head out of the horse, he noticed that the platoon leader of the same bannermen's company was looking at this new addition with great interest, and he jumped out of his skin.
"No, no, it's nothing. No, I'm--I'm a poet, actually. I write poetry. I was wondering if I could write a rhyme about this, uh, sandstorm that I'm singing in the kithara."
Elle licked her lips, explaining that she was puzzled. His sallow face, neither embarrassed nor disgusted, grew more and more pale.
The platoon leader, however, was fortunately not interested in pursuing the matter further. Instead, he was more concerned with the tent where the debate was taking place. Elle, in a panic, folded the parchment and put it in a cover under his armor. As he did so, he fumbled with his gati, chewing on the juice of the vacha fruit, looking as if he were completely absorbed in his meal.
The wind is getting stronger.
The Angel Hair turned into innumerable white souls and flew about them incessantly, and the withered branches of the wormwood burst with a shrill noise against the hard armor. The sky was low and dark, and on the horizon there was the sign of a huge, terrible tornado hurtling toward the east.
If I were caught in it, I would not be able to save myself... Everyone thought so, shuddering and thanking Yarn for their good fortune. It was a horrible whirlpool of air that was becoming more and more gigantic as it swept up all the sand, plants, stones, and living things underneath it. It seemed to be a form of rage, warning, and curse that the Great Demon Doll would slap on the humans who dared to step into the cursed land of Nosferus.
And then the storm came.
In Nosferus, of course, the rain does not beat down on the lovely sands. The storms of Nosferus are simply the fierce winds that batter and rage the earth, and the sand and pebbles that are flung up by them.
It was the long-awaited time of the strange and horrible creatures of the frontier, who had been held back and hidden before the advance of Mongol's army. In the rumbling of the wind, what a myriad of vicious roars and howls and sobbing sounds must have mingled and frightened them. The sand was boiling and raging, and out of it came a white tentacle, which dragged the unfortunate sentry down to the bottom of the sand and disappeared in the twinkling of an eye. Screams, curses, and cries of praise to the god's name were drowned out by the roar of the wind. Now, at last, Nosferus was revealing his true nature.