Blackhand Subjugation
Blackhand subjugation. Blackhand subjugation. The royal family had officially announced Blackhand's betrayal and the existence of the unknown transcendents. At the same time, they reassured the people that all preparations were complete, so there was no need to worry. Finally, they declared that the subjugation would take place very soon, with the vanguard led by the Great Sword, Helmont.
Under Princess Clarice's steady leadership, the preparations that had been meticulously laid out began to topple like dominoes, putting immense pressure on Blackhand. By the time the news reached them, it was already too late. Armies of nobles, centered around Helmont, had gathered at Blackhand.
The locals in the territories ruled by Blackhand looked gaunt, as if stricken by famine, their bones and skin starkly visible. The sky was darkened like storm clouds, and there was no life in their eyes. Yet the real problem was that their lives were actually abundant. Children played freely, granaries were well-stocked, and they could enjoy meat dishes once every week or two. Life in the villages around Blackhand was far more prosperous than expected—but that very prosperity was the issue. Despite their comfortable existence, their faces were utterly haggard.
It wasn't for nothing that orders had come from above forbidding them from accepting food from outsiders or drawing water from wells. The judgment was that there had to be some reason they appeared destitute despite their plenty.
As they advanced deeper into Blackhand's territory, a welcoming party finally emerged. At the center of the domain, they had established a front line manned by Blackhand's private soldiers. Their numbers were laughably few compared to the allied army. But scattered among them were beings that were clearly not human. Transcendents were openly fighting alongside them, along with their medium- and large-sized magical beasts.
Blackhand had done their best to prepare, but coldly speaking, the gap in forces was overwhelming. It seemed the transcendents had already half-abandoned Blackhand.
“……”
Isaac observed the battlefield silently from one step back. More precisely, he watched the red-haired man rampaging like a monster alone in the heart of the fray—Arandel Helmont.
His body had transcended even the transcendents. His Red Aura reduced ferocious magical beasts to mere livestock. His massive greatsword was like a banner dominating the battlefield. Wherever his greatsword fell, even unfavorable odds flipped in their favor.
The nobles and knights who had grumbled about the transcendents' overwhelming power were forced to shut their mouths. Arandel, who had slain three transcendents in the very first battle, had snorted and said there was a real thrill to cutting them down. Those words had left a deep impression on Isaac.
“Feels itchy, doesn't it?”
Silberna, standing beside Isaac, laughed in agreement.
She had joined the Blackhand subjugation instead of heading north under the pretext of avenging Pollu.
“Yeah, it itches.”
“Me too. Can't deny he's an incredible swordsman.”
As they watched Arandel dominate the battlefield like a force of nature, all they could do was marvel. A burning desire welled up to rush in and swing their own swords. It was easy to see why the kingdom's knights idolized Arandel's blade.
[War probably won't break out.]
'Master was right.'
Isaac couldn't help but wonder if it was really that simple. No matter what, the idea of one man single-handedly suppressing a war seemed exaggerated. But Arandel's aura alone claimed a full quarter of the cramped battlefield. It drove home why he was called the Great Sword.
Swift and decisive. Blackhand's front lines and manor looked like a fragile skeleton on the verge of collapse.
“Ah, it's over.”
“……”
And yet, Arandel only swung his sword for exactly one hour a day before withdrawing. In that single hour, he achieved tremendous advances, but once it ended, the battlefield stalemated. Two days into the Blackhand subjugation, the kingdom's camp absurdly had strength to spare.
“Iiiiisaaaaac!”
“Sigh, here he comes again.”
Roengreen, who had just been swinging his sword at Arandel's side, strode over, veins bulging in his eyes as he panted like his blood was finally boiling.
“Duel meeee!”
He shouted the same thing today as always. Previously, Lianna had intervened, but she wasn't joining this subjugation. With her nominal husband Isaac here, the lady of the house had stayed at the manor.
“Hoo.”
In the end, Isaac stepped forward. It seemed necessary to calm the boar-like man who couldn't contain his energy.
For reference, since the Sword Festival, Isaac's sparring record against Roengreen was 3 wins, 0 losses. Roengreen hadn't toppled him even once since.
“You can use Red Aura if you want.”
As Isaac calmly adjusted the taedo at his waist, Roengreen swung his greatsword wildly and bellowed.
“Shut your mouth! Do you think my swordsmanship lags behind yours?!”
“No, it'd help me learn if you—”
“Shut your mouth! Didn't you teach this bastard that Helmont's sword doesn't come just from Red Aura?!”
“Ugh, my ears hurt.”
“Helmonts have great lungs too.”
Silberna crossed her arms and sighed.
After their spars, Roengreen had stopped using Red Aura. He seemed to have realized his father's sword wasn't just about pouring in Red Aura. But coldly speaking, he still had a long way to go.
“Oh, starting again?”
“Lord Roengreen! Land a hit today!”
“You got this!”
“Can I get a shot next time?”
Knights and soldiers gathered from all around. At some point, Isaac and Roengreen's spars had become an event.
“Shall we begin?”
Isaac rested his hand on his sheathed taedo and said so, but Roengreen didn't take it as mockery or provocation. He had learned from three defeats that the sheathed blade was the most dangerous moment.
Experiencing with one's legs, skin, and ears provided information of a different quality and versatility. Having gained that insight, Princess Clarice had also joined the Blackhand subjugation. But only as an observer. She offered no input on the battlefield or tactics, objectively recognizing she wasn't seasoned enough for that.
Still, Arandel's habit of fighting for exactly one hour a day puzzled her.
'Is there some reason?'
It was a bit frustrating, but that one hour yielded massive advances. It allowed them to claim overwhelming victory while minimizing casualties and conserving strength. No wonder he was hailed as the Great Sword. Just having him on the field made victory feel assured.
“Ah.”
At the murmurs outside the tent, Clarice stepped out with her guard.
“Started again.”
A crowd had gathered. On the hard-packed earth barren of even a blade of grass, Isaac and Roengreen were dueling.
Clang!
Roengreen raised his greatsword diagonally to block Isaac's blade. But as a second taedo layered on top like a hammer striking an anvil, the eldest son's face twisted strangely.
“Grrraaaah!”
With a thunderous shout, Roengreen swung his greatsword wide, scattering Isaac's blades. But Isaac released both swords and dove inward.
“He uses a different approach every time.”
“Indeed.”
Clarice agreed with her guard Heirad's murmur. Who would drop their weapon and charge a Helmont? But Isaac did.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
Consecutive impact sounds rang out, widening Roengreen's eyes. Temples, philtrum, solar plexus. Critical points anyone human possessed. Even a Helmont was still human.
Roengreen glared at Isaac with bulging eyes, retching and drooling like he was vomiting saliva, his tongue stiff from pain. Isaac grinned and nodded.
“As expected of a great Helmont. Normally, that'd cause not just respiratory distress but cardiac arrest.”
“You bast—Urk! Guh-euk!”
“Your body's tough! I'm! Jealous!”
Smack! Smack! Smack!
As Roengreen toppled backward, Clarice pinched her nose and muttered.
“Guess he had a lot pent up against Helmonts.”
“But, Your Highness. Is this alright?”
“Hm?”
Heirad asked with a grave expression, watching the duel.
“Showing the Helmont heir crumbling like that to everyone— isn't it dangerous?”
“What can I do about it?”
The princess seemed to have washed her hands of it. But she hadn't entirely abandoned backup plans. If anything—
“This has made me realize. Helmont holds too much power.”
“……”
“I know they're capable. Helmont is impressive. But relying on one family isn't healthy for the kingdom.”
This time proved it. If Arandel had sided with Galeniya and the transcendents, it would have been disastrous.
“It's time for a generational shift. Perfect timing.”
Clarice smiled as she spoke.
“Heirad, ever heard that the number three symbolizes balance?”
Without waiting for a reply, she continued.
“Helmont's Lianna, Kaldias's Silberna, and—”
Isaac. The core of the new generation Clarice envisioned to succeed Arandel.
“I believe they'll form the frontline supporting the kingdom's next era.”
In that sense, this duel was profoundly meaningful. It gradually diminished the deified weight of Helmont while laying a strong foundation for Isaac's future influence.
“You'll have to endure a bit more, Roengreen Helmont.”
Clarice hoped he would get thrashed daily, if possible.
“Is this really okay?”
“Even so, young master Roengreen is the pillar of Helmont.”
“Is it right to beat a man who was just fighting on the front lines like that?”
Helmont's knights were protesting to Arandel. It was hard for his own knights to watch Roengreen suffer like this.
But Arandel said nothing. From a distance, he silently watched the two duel, thinking.
'He's learned again.'
The stance, breathing, and split-second judgment Isaac had shown by dropping his sword and closing in. It closely mirrored the posture Arandel had used today on the battlefield to pulverize a rabbit-eared transcendent with his fist.
But judging he couldn't match Arandel's power or form, Isaac had adapted: dropping the sword like Arandel wouldn't, and striking vital points with both hands. It evoked the sensation of his twin thin blades mimicking a greatsword's form. Just as wielding two slender swords glimpsed fragments of the Helmont greatsword, he had stolen Arandel's technique in his own way.
'He read my movements in moments, learned, absorbed, and reproduced them in his own style.'
How was that possible? His expression didn't show it, but Arandel was genuinely impressed.
At first, he wondered how such talent had been hidden. But talent blossoms. In the end, Arandel admitted Helmont hadn't nurtured Isaac's potential over the past four years. He realized Isaac's unfathomable sword knowledge had served as the nutrient.
'Not mere imitation, but true learning. Admiration without losing his center. He exists on his own terms.'
Roengreen was growing too. He had recognized his shortcomings through recent defeats. He wasn't incapable. Far from it.
'A pity.'
One charged so far ahead that their strides seemed mismatched. The same step, but clearly different distances covered.
It couldn't be helped. Regrettably, Arandel wasn't a kind teacher.
'What will he show tomorrow through me?'
Arandel chuckled softly, anticipating what growth Isaac would demonstrate next.