The War to End All Wars (7)

Regrettably for her, Ull – the embodiment of taciturnity itself – and Freugne had diverged from the outset.

Her offer to protect lacked credibility given their contrary history, and for someone unaccustomed to such banter, the impact hinged on the delivery itself.

“…Why suddenly speak like that?”

“Hmm, I had envisioned a different reaction……”

Freugne’s carefully prepared overtures had ultimately faltered.

An outcome she could have foreseen without clairvoyance.

Freugne, whose predominant preoccupation after the Demonic threat was maintaining discretion regarding her culinary proclivities, believed she had adeptly concealed her carnal yearnings while revealing her affections.

Had she not done so thus far?

While ethical barriers partially obstructed Edan from perceiving her familial affections as transcending mere kinship, she had assumed her performances contributed to that obliviousness.

Yet if she had refrained from overtly confessing her ardor to preclude suspicions, his denseness became inexplicable after her semiforthright intimations.

If either excelled at feigning, it was Edan.

Confronted by Freugne’s increasingly brazen advances oscillating between bewilderment and reality, he at least maintained outward composure.

When her fervent overtures intensified, crossing thresholds that made Edan recoil before probing the underlying motives:

“Freugne, why is the area beneath your bed so untidy? Let me tidy this for now, but please organize your room later–”

-Thud-

“Ah.”

Freugne had inadvertently revealed the erotic literature concealed beneath her bed.

“Oh no……”

“Why do you possess such materials? No, scratch that – how did you even acquire them?”

Only after voicing that query did Edan realize its futility.

Inquiring about procurement methods was redundant with a clandestine operative, so Freugne readily divulged her intentions.

“The reason I was perusing them is, well… Just in case, you understand? They might prove useful eventually?”

“…Regardless, I shall confiscate these. While I comprehend your burgeoning interests, directly learning from such literature seems inappropriate.”

“Ack.”

Having seized the erotic texts, Edan forcibly reverted to treating the fully-grown Freugne like a daughter, grasping at justifications.

For he had gleaned the implications behind her proclaimed ‘uses’ and acted upon his inherent survival instincts.

And once again being infantilized represented Freugne’s undoing.

Though admittedly relishing Edan’s flustered reactions, she resolved to press further advantages rather than permit his retreats.

“If you forbid learning from books, very well.”

“Then the inevitable alternative is……”

Edan silently screamed in horror.

Freugne flashed an enigmatic smile, slowly licking her lips – a purportedly effective technique, though not personally instructed but gleaned from those very books.

Days later, upon receiving the freshly relayed frontline news, Freya too resonated with a wordless shriek of dismay.

“Who is this… Ull? Regardless of his identity, if any harm befalls Erinne–”

“No, that seems rather unlikely……”

“Is he an acquaintance of yours?”

“I cannot say.”

Hence Edan’s reticence aligned with that premise.

Amidst wartime exigencies, indulging in drunken idleness proved unviable.

While some demoralized by Londinium’s setbacks emerged, roaming the streets inebriated, Edan and Freya’s shoulders bore immense responsibilities precluding such unraveling.

Ultimately, Freya uncorked a coveted vintage, and Edan, having finally deduced the source of Freugne’s aberrant influences, joined her.

An already tumultuous world.

Even while precariously treading this tightrope, domestic upheavals persisted as equally vexing distractions.

---

The Dark Lord had genuinely endeavored to rein in his Demonic brethren.

Wielding mind-controlling magics, and when those proved insufficient, directly intervening with verbal admonitions.

Despite foreknowing how such pleas would portray him as a coward rather than a seasoned commander among his kinsmen.

“Heed me! The Dark Lord has instructed us to advance more gradually. We must await the reinforcements diligently following us!”

“Uurrgghh–!”

“But! We have all borne witness to this battlefield’s realities. Those humans are mere rabble, unworthy adversaries! To pause here is to afford them an opportunity to regroup!”

“Indeed!!”

That the sovereign had deigned to partially relinquish his pride served as testament to his sincerity.

Yet if mere words could have sufficed, they would not bear the Demonic moniker.

The orders once tentatively heeded prior to the war’s outbreak had ultimately been disregarded under the pretext of ‘respecting field commanders’ discretion’ – a solitary remark from antiquity.

Yet for every loss, a corresponding gain existed.

Sacrificing restraint and prudence, the Demonic forces advanced with relentless momentum. In this immediate context, it appeared a rather rational trade.

“Did you hear? The Demons are expected to arrive within two days.”

“And at this pace, Antrim will fall within a month, they claim. If true, should we not flee?”

“Those refugees who passed through recently declared our plight hopeless.”

“Newspaper reports also mention dissent among Belfast’s high command.”

“Such feeble prattle! Have you yet to comprehend the consequences of defeat here? Shall I enlighten you firsthand?”

Observing the increasingly demoralized soldiers from afar, Erinne sighed deeply.

She had anticipated their eventual unraveling amidst such incessant rumor-mongering – the only pastime in these circumstances.

While not engaging in the outright insanity of purging the entire command during active warfare, Freugne had selectively reorganized it.

The war raged, and the reorganization persisted, but she refrained from creating comprehensive leadership vacuums through indiscriminate purges.

Every nuance had been meticulously calibrated by Freugne through repeated simulations of her precognitive glimpses.

Erinne had overheard rumors of a divisional commander being relieved after retreating in disarray.

Though largely inconsequential to her, it seemed General Andrei had temporarily assumed that role.

With each passing day, the smoke and thunderous impacts intensified, the faint gunpowder scent ever-present with each inhalation.

Refugees streamed past her unit, accompanied by increasingly disheveled fleeing Belfast troops, while the evidently tense Captain silently chain-smoked.

Tomorrow, perhaps even by midnight, they would directly encounter the Demons.

While her resolves had not faltered enough to betray external signs, the apprehension proved inescapable.

And then, someone swiftly approached the slightly perspiring Erinne before plopping down beside her.

“You’re here again.”

“Surely you recall my words. This may be my final warning.”

“Yes, yes. Flee and hide well. I’ve even dug a pit eastward from the barracks, so I shall retrieve you from there eventually.”

“And?”

“If facing death, clutch the railgun and loudly call my name, correct?”

“You have it memorized well. Reassuring.”

“Reassuring, my……”

The obliviously deranged flirtations of Ull.

If intentional, Erinne could only acknowledge his adroitness.

If purely unconscious, he seemed formidable in an entirely different sense.

Erinne suddenly realized her trepidation seemed solitary.

Ull appeared utterly detached from this entire war, exhibiting scant concern despite the Demons’ impending proximity.

“Are you not apprehensive?”

“Should I be?”

“We must battle tomorrow, must we not?”

“I suppose so.”

“Then should you not feel fear?”

Ull contemplated briefly.

Yet fear failed to materialize – for had he not confronted them repeatedly already?

Instead, Erinne’s reactions piqued greater curiosity.

“Are you concerned for me? I had assumed such duties fell to me regarding you.”

“Hah! Me? Concerned? Certainly not……”

No, did this constitute concern?

Upon reflection, it aligned with certain connotations of concern – yet such sentiments customarily arose between lovers or cherished individuals, akin to her relationship with her aunt.

Ull scrutinized the softly whimpering Erinne with an expression of bafflement.

Upon receiving this report, Freugne decided to log it for potential future reference, just in case.

---

Yet time still flowed.

Until finally, the following dawn:

-Craaash!-

“Rouse yourselves immediately! Awaken any still slumbering!”

“All arms at the ready! Any tardiness shall prove detrimental!”

“Wh-what’s happening?! Why such excessive force against the door–”

“What else could it possibly be? Surely the reason is obvious!”

Erinne roused groggily from her bunk, while Ull calmly retrieved his rifle.

“The Demons have arrived.”