Chapter 89: War Written as ‘Reclamation’, Read as ‘Destruction’ 3

Alsace

A region occupying the central Palatinate, rich in numerous iron mines and fertile agricultural lands.

There, a young girl named Anna awoke early as usual to assist her parents.

Their vineyard took pride in producing the finest grapes within the Empire.

The luscious purple clusters nearing peak ripeness…

With the harvest imminent, Anna knew this day held many tasks.

Though merely seven years old, she had learned farmwork from an early age to help her parents.

Steeling herself for the sake of her soon-to-be-born sibling, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and rose.

As the inky darkness gave way to the soft glow of dawn…

The crisp, revitalizing morning air should have gently caressed her nostrils.

Yet…

Upon taking that customary deep awakening breath…

Anna’s face instinctively contorted.

An unpleasant, invasive scent assailed her senses.

Not the usual fresh fragrance nor the vineyard’s sweet aroma…

But the acrid reek of blood and smoldering smoke.

A primal dread blooming within her, Anna slowly rose from her bed.

Through the cracks of her door seeped an ominous radiance – no herald of dawn’s pure, white rays.

An eddying glow of orange and crimson hues.

Though too young to comprehend its meaning, an inexplicable terror gripped the child.

“…Mama?… Papa?”

Her tremulous voice called out, tinged with fear.

Trembling hands reached for the door handle.

To join her parents, who should be preparing breakfast…

To find solace in her mother’s embrace from this nameless dread.

Yet the sight that met her eyes robbed Anna of all coherent thought.

Beyond the window, the screams of terror and the sickly crimson glare of raging flames.

Shattered furnishings and spilled provisions littered the floor.

And amidst the wreckage…

Her father, skull obliterated, brain exposed.

Her mother, disemboweled and lifeless.

A tiny hand protruding from the carnage…

For a fleeting moment, Anna could not fathom the implication.

Before she could process this horror, her gaze fell upon a figure gripping a bloodied axe.

Clad in thick armor, body thoroughly splattered in gore, its twisted smile utterly inhuman.

In that instant, a single word escaped Anna’s lips, consumed by primal fear:

“De…Demon…”

The name the priests had oft-warned of…

A horrific monster crawled from the pits of Hell.

An evil being that reveled in drinking human blood.

Beholding this abomination slowly advancing upon her, having slain her family, Anna could only envision a demon from the netherworld – coming to claim her life as well.

Despair utterly enveloping her, she collapsed where she stood.

And toward the stricken Anna, the demon raised its axe, that ghastly grin unwavering.

“Die, vile demon!”

As the blood-soaked blade descended upon her…

One final, nonsensical question flickered through Anna’s young mind:

‘Why… is the demon calling me a demon…?’

Unable to comprehend this paradox, Anna could only gaze numbly at the descending horror.

Then…

-THWACK!-

“Ahahahaha! Slaughter them all! These wicked demons who surrendered to the evil Church! Vile creatures no longer worthy of living!”

Roaring with rapturous glee, Christiane spurred on her soldiers amidst the pervasive stench of blood and the screams of the dying.

Her unrestrained ecstasy seemed to border on euphoria, witnessing this ‘divine judgment’ unfold.

And observing Christiane’s unbound savagery, Mansfelt too began succumbing to a primal exhilaration.

Utterly uninhibited, radiating the feral ferocity of a wild beast…

There was a strange allure to Christiane in this untamed state, akin to an unbridled mare.

‘I became a mercenary to pursue freedom, yet this woman seems freer than even I…’

Long since desensitized to death as a mercenary, Mansfelt had reached the point of reveling in it.

To him, this massacre they orchestrated amounted to a mere joyous revelry.

In truth, this moment allowed him an uninhibited release of urges he had previously restrained out of propriety.

As this visceral elation welled within Mansfelt, Christiane could no longer contain her burning fervor, exclaiming in an inflamed voice:

“Ahaha! This heat is becoming unbearable! I must partake in the festivities as well!”

With those words, she spurred her steed forward, brandishing her lance as crimson mana began swirling around her.

The bloody aura rapidly dispersed outward like swarming insects, enveloping the fleeing townspeople.

“Aaaarrgghh!”

Horrific screams erupted as the unlucky victims had the very flesh seared from their bones, perishing in agony.

Yet Christiane’s magic did not cease, instead spreading like wildfire to engulf those nearby.

What began as a handful soon claimed over thirty lives within moments, Christiane’s expression twisted in rapturous euphoria at the epicenter.

And witnessing her unbound savagery…

Mansfelt too felt the burning thirst for slaughter, spurring his own steed forward.

Unable to tear his gaze away from Christiane’s unbridled madness…

At a location roughly a day’s march from the Palatinate border, General Tilly had just arrived with his 15,000 troops, resting briefly while receiving updates on the situation.

“Mansfelt and some woman named Christiane have been perpetrating such acts?”

“Yes, General. General Spinola eagerly awaits your arrival with all haste.”

“Understood. Return promptly and inform Spinola of our position and imminent arrival.”

After dismissing the messenger from Spinola, Tilly could no longer suppress his smoldering outrage.

Mansfelt and Christiane rampaged across the occupied Palatinate, leaving utter devastation in their wake – a grievous blow to the Holy Empire’s control.

Thus, Spinola urgently sought Tilly’s reinforcements to expel these madmen.

And this aligned with Tilly’s own desire, having received a second chance from the Emperor to redeem himself.

‘Though my oversight led to defeat in the previous war, my pride in serving God’s will remains undiminished.’

“For the heretical forces to commit such demonic atrocities… As one enacting the divine mandate, I cannot allow this travesty to persist!”

Tilly’s indignant declaration prompted an approving nod from the young woman seated opposite him.

“You speak true. Those poor souls, slaughtered and plundered… Such transgressors must be made to pay dearly for their crimes.”

Her voice tinged with zealous fervor, Tilly assumed she shared his righteous anger, responding with resolute conviction:

“Indeed, words befitting one who directly receives God’s will – a true archbishop. In this war, I expect great deeds from you and your knight order.”

“Leave it to us. We have traveled all this way from Milan to enact the Lord’s decree. Justice shall be realized, no matter the cost.”

In response to Tilly’s charge, she offered a solemn smile, concealing the avarice festering within…

The Archbishop of Milan, Maxim Capeor, feigning a righteous mien.