All My Summons Become Divine Girls

Chapter 292: Before the Column Moves

The last night rehearsal ended beneath shuttered lamps, leaving less than two hours before Hans sounded the counter-offensive’s first bell.

Hajin returned to the registry while militia squads changed boots, collected ration packets, and checked their assigned retreat colors.

Lana had divided the witness desk into sealed bundles for casualties, prisoners, enemy movements, artifact custody, and surrender statements.

Ash slept behind her chair beneath the registry coat, guarded by six people assigned to remain after every field column departed.

"You copied the current ledger three times," Hajin said, examining identical baseline pages, "one stays here, but where do the others go?"

"The clinic cellar and western shelter," Lana said, tying the final bundle, "a burned desk cannot be allowed to erase who entered this battle."

Each copy began with twenty-one Sixth dead, fifty-nine serious wounds, plus one thousand one hundred twenty-two active Flint soldiers.

The pages beneath them left spaces for time, witness, route, custody, and the person responsible for accepting each report.

"You remain behind the protected line," Hajin said, checking her two registry guards, "no following runners toward a report that arrives incomplete."

"I know," Lana said, setting the desk key beside her wrist, "I am afraid the empty spaces will come back faster than names."

She spoke without lowering her voice, allowing the guards and Marrick to hear what fear had changed in her preparations.

"Then make every runner give you one fact before the next," Hajin said, returning the key, "name, place, condition, and nothing guessed."

"That is the order on every cover," Lana said, showing him the printed strip, "panic gets four questions before it earns a story."

Hajin left Ash asleep inside the fixed rear post while Marrick carried both duplicate ledgers toward their protected shelters.

At the clinic, Vella moved between occupied cots with both hands uncovered and her depleted violet reserve absent from every seal.

Her golden mana formed only where her fingers touched, forcing two orderlies to maintain each dressing after she moved onward.

The treatment yard held empty frames in numbered rows, with red, yellow, and black ties prepared for incoming triage.

"The western carts have paired orderlies," Hajin said, reading her placement board, "Hans reserved both withdrawal corridors from combat movement."

"I read his board," Vella said, pressing gold through a patient’s shoulder dressing, "roads do not decide who reaches me breathing."

She finished the seal before facing him, her expression carrying none of the teasing she normally used to soften clinic fear.

"My violet mana is empty," Vella said, looking at her bare palms, "and my gold cannot cross this room without my hands."

"That remains the limit," Hajin said, standing inside the treatment lane, "nobody has planned around power you do not possess."

"I am afraid the first cart arrives with two people dying," Vella said, closing her fingers, "and I only have one pair of hands."

The confession reached their bond without disguise, carrying no request for him to deny the arithmetic she understood better.

"Each cart has a triage lead who chooses the first seal," Hajin said, indicating the paired orderlies, "you will not choose alone."

"And when their choice is wrong?" Vella asked, watching the empty frames, "they will remember my face beside whichever patient dies."

"Then correct what you can reach," Hajin said, offering his hand between them, "we built the route so responsibility reaches you with the wounded."

Vella held his hand without drawing mana, letting their existing bond carry the contact without turning it into treatment.

"Return with your own pulse intact," she said, releasing him after one measured moment, "I refuse to triage my contract holder during a siege."

"That almost sounded like your usual bedside manner," Hajin said, checking the nearest empty frame, "keep some for the second cart."

Her mouth moved toward a smile before stopping, although the fear no longer remained hers to hold alone.

The braced forge stood cold beyond the clinic road, its six iron supports casting angled shadows across the fractured furnace.

Ferra worked at a side bench beneath her first Wing, filing three split collars around a wooden copy of the Chain’s links.

Rotating forge-light held gauges above each collar while her scaled hands cut narrow receiving grooves into their inner faces.

"Those are not weapon parts," Hajin said, comparing them with Aria’s stored design, "the Chain remains in my inventory."

"They are holding fixtures," Ferra said, turning the wooden link, "if a compatible source arrives, I will not waste hours building clamps."

The collars could position damaged links around a future receiving pattern, but contained no anomaly metal, charge, or active enchantment.

Ferra’s file slipped across the third groove, scoring its edge before her Wing caught the tool above her fingers.

Both hands trembled when she lowered them, revealing the cost hidden beneath her floating instruments and precise measurements.

"Stop until the column clears," Hajin said, moving the unfinished collar away, "prepared hands matter more than a third clamp."

"Two clamps permit uneven pressure," Ferra said, reaching toward it, "uneven pressure turns irreplaceable links into expensive fragments."

"Shaking hands produce uneven pressure," Hajin said, placing a stool beside her bench, "finish after food and one hour without a file."

Ferra stared at the unfinished groove before dismissing her Wing’s suspended tools into a locked rack.

"If your mysterious source arrives during that hour, it waits," Ferra said, sitting beside the cold furnace, "Divine objects can practice patience."

Hajin left all three fixtures on her bench, where preparation remained preparation without becoming the missing power early.

Juna met him beyond the forge road while two registry witnesses returned separately with Corven’s certified route sheets.

They had observed the white-pennant wagon crossing the northern quarry spur with ash cylinders visible through its open rear frame.

No patients, treatment staff, or carrying beds traveled beside it, and both witnesses recorded the same anchoring rods without conferring.

"Corven stayed behind the wagon’s second standard," Juna said, walking with Hajin toward the western field, "I watched without entering his scent line."

"You proved the misuse without forcing his reaction," Hajin said, following her chosen path between covered militia positions, "Hans can mark the branch now."

"I will return north when the column enters," Juna said, stopping beneath the final orchard wall, "you remain west until the third bell."

Neither position allowed them to reach the other quickly once Dreth answered Hans’s false wagon closure.

"If his Zone pressure turns toward me, keep watching Corven," Hajin said, meeting her amber eyes, "I need the branch more than immediate help."

"Then do not call me back because distance makes you nervous," Juna said, resting one claw against his chest, "trust the route I chose."

"I do," Hajin said, covering her hand with his, "I do not need you beside me to know we are fighting together."

Her ears eased forward, and she pressed her forehead against his before the staging horn summoned them toward separate markers.

"When I tell you the northern eye is real, follow me," Juna said, stepping back, "do not make me prove the same instinct twice."

"I learned that cost already," Hajin said, releasing her hand, "this time, I follow your sight."

Juna crossed toward the quarry route while Hajin entered the gold reserve position behind Hans’s red third-bell line.

Loccy waited behind the wagon closure with her hammer grounded, and Uriel’s protected shelter showed one covered white lamp.

From the distant clinic, forge, and registry, three shielded lamps answered Hans’s final readiness signal without changing position.

Hans raised his route board above the western column, then dropped one scarred hand toward the waiting bell rope.

The first bell struck, and the militia advanced behind claimant-marked wagons while Hajin remained outside their opening pocket.