Chapter 395: In a Single Battle
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 395: In a Single Battle
"Did you go too far?" the ferryman asked.
"It was a whim," he replied to himself.
"It was madness. What was so endearing about him? Because he was amusing? That only lasts for a moment."
The ferryman spoke again.
"Wasn't that the 'event' to come?" he questioned once more.
"Humans are creatures of potential and possibility."
"And that is exactly why they are arrogant."
"He will be no different."
"Who knows? Just as he amused us, perhaps the event to come might change as well?"
"If he ends up trapped there, then that is as far as he goes."
It was a solitary exchange of questions and answers, with no one else around to listen.
* * *
Krang held his first strategy meeting in the royal palace training grounds. A small platform had been erected, with the Royal Guard stationed around its perimeter.
The nobles were the first to gather.
Wherever people congregated, gossip was bound to follow. It began with those who had sharp ears and had caught wind of the various rumors.
"I heard fifty lycanthropes appeared before the Border Guard. They say Count Molsen is a mage. Who knows what else might emerge from his territory?"
"Hah."
"How dangerous. It’s a miracle they were stopped. A miracle."
"They say it wasn't just the lycanthropes—even the monsters that threw the capital into chaos before were his doing."
"Is that all? Word has it that the incident inside the palace, led by Viscount Mernes, was also the Count's handiwork."
Krang had not suppressed the information. If anything, he had allowed it to spread further. As a result, everyone was aware of the truth behind the incidents.
"I also heard we must fight without summoning a single knight stationed outside."
"Does that make any sense? At the very least, one of the knights from the Red Cloak Knights should be here."
"...This won't turn into a losing battle, will it?"
One young noble who had recently inherited his title crossed the line, speaking out of turn. The words slipped out, driven by sheer anxiety.
Even though only those on Krang's side remained, they were not all of one mind. When anxiety takes root, faith is bound to waver. And that was exactly what was happening now.
The crowd consisted of life peers, associate nobles, heads of capital merchant guilds, and guild masters.
"Insolent!"
"Do you not even trust the lord you chose to follow?"
As two nobles who had been watching gravely rebuked him, the young noble spoke up again.
"I do not think placing blame will solve anything. We must assess the situation, read the trends, and make judgments if we are to be of any help. If we are to believe blindly, we might as well go to a temple and do nothing but pray."
"Baron Jepl, what are you trying to say?"
At that, the man addressed as Baron Jepl replied immediately.
"I am saying we should face reality and do what needs to be done."
"Is this betrayal?"
The man who spoke looked ready to draw his weapon at any moment. Since the training ground had been chosen as the meeting place, everyone was armed.
A few of the non-nobles frowned. Is this going to be alright? We don't even know how long this civil war will drag on. Is it right to be on the same side as these people?
"Do you wish to see blood, Baron Rudin?"
There was a cold stiffness in the way they addressed each other. Though they weren't mortal enemies, they held adjacent territories and had clashed in the past over a mineral vein situated between them. They could never be on good terms.
Aside from their minor squabble, anxiety spread further through the crowd. This tendency was more pronounced among the nobles whose territories bordered Count Molsen's.
If a horde of monsters formed a colony and attacked right now, what would happen to their own lands? Losing even a single city would bring devastating damage. Even if it was a civil war, did they really have to risk everything they owned?
What if they lost? No, even if they won, would there be anything left? If a territory war broke out afterward, whose side would the King take? The side that fought better? Or the side that proved more useful at the time?
This was a shared concern, not just for the nobles, but also for the artisan guild masters and others. Everyone present had no shortage of political considerations to weigh. Yet, they were still people of courage and resolve. After all, they were the ones who had turned their backs on Count Molsen to come here.
Of course, among them were several who could never sail in the same boat as the Count. For instance, there was one who had lost his family's multi-generational merchant guild entirely because the Count had devoured the local market under the guise of "business." Another had lost half his territory to exorbitant "protection fees" extorted under the pretext of defending against nearby monster attacks.
Such people ground their teeth whenever the name Molsen was mentioned.
"Humans turning into monsters? No, didn't he harbor a horde of monsters from the very beginning? How can we even call such a creature a human being?"
Monsters are the enemies of humanity. There was also someone who brought up such a fundamental principle. It was the master of an artisan guild. Since they took pride in crafting weapons for humanity, it was a fitting sentiment for him to express.
More than twenty people had gathered. Marquis Vaisar and the Marquis of Okto, the great nobles of the faction, had not yet arrived. To be precise, both were already by Krang's side.
Inside a small building behind the training ground, in a barracks smelling of stale sweat, the two marquises spoke in turn.
"Not everyone will be of one mind."
"But we cannot call them enemies either."
There were those who had jumped on the bandwagon of the times. Those who stood on Krang's side but had no intention of risking everything. And others who harbored their own separate agendas.
Yet, they were necessary. Right now, it was difficult to even gauge the extent of the power the Count had hidden. Under the circumstances, even if a ghoul stood on their side, they would have to close their eyes and accept it.
In fact, the Count was doing exactly that.
And they called him a mage.
Vaisar felt the creases on his forehead deepen. Whatever Count Molsen had done, creatures that were neither clearly human nor monster had taken his side. How such a thing was possible was beyond their knowledge right now, nor did they need to know.
Now was simply the moment to fight and win.
"You must take the long view," the Marquis of Okto added.
His power came from the land. Otherwise, he would not have received the epithet "Okto," meaning fertile land. The longer the war dragged on, the more the Marquis of Okto would suffer. If they fought tooth and nail across the kingdom, how could the farmlands possibly be preserved?
Yet, he argued that the war should not be short. To win, they would need to wear down Count Molsen's strength. Inwardly, he had likely calculated that dragging things out would eventually prompt the knights to intervene on their own.
"Did you say you declined the intervention of the knights? You should not have done that."
Indeed, he spoke his mind plainly. His principle was that one must not be picky about the means and methods used to achieve victory. It was a valid point.
To all of this, Krang merely offered a faint smile. The weather was fine, and the sunlight was warm. Summer would be arriving soon. Wasn't this the season when the chirping of insects grew noticeably louder?
"The weather is fine," Krang remarked.
Marcus, who entered late, saw the stiff expressions on the two marquises' faces and asked, "Did you just give them a good tongue-lashing?"
Marcus was a truly loyal subject. While the two marquises had joined based on conditions or because they could not tolerate the opponent, Marcus had staked everything on the man named Krang.
"You lack elegance, Marcus."
"Since when did you care about my elegance?"
Retorting to the marquis's words, Marcus stood beside his lord.
"You will end it in one go, right?" he asked naturally.
"I must. I don't have the stomach to do this twice," Krang replied.
"Oh, you don't have the stomach, so you'll do it in one go? That's a mockery to those who are truly faint of heart," Marcus bantered.
"What do you mean by ending it in one go?" asked Marquis Vaisar. He was an old politician who rarely lost his composure, but he could not let this comment slide. It meant staking everything on a single battle.
"If we drag out a civil war, what will be left of this land?" Krang asked back with a smile.
"If we do not emerge victorious, we will lose everything we hold in our hands."
It was the correct, logical answer.
"Then we simply have to win."
"Do you think winning with a crowd like that will be easy?"
"Are you underestimating the Count's power?"
"Neither. I am merely doing everything in my power, and for the rest, we can only pray that the Goddess of Fortune smiles upon us."
"We must ensure it does not come to that."
Victory, even if it ravages the country.
Krang shook his head inwardly. It wasn't that he didn't understand the two men before him. They viewed it as a fight where failure meant losing everything. Krang looked further than that.
Because we cannot stop at merely winning.
Count Molsen, too, would likely try to end it in a single battle. That was only natural to both of them. If one wished to claim the throne, and wanted that throne to still be worthy of a king afterward, that was how it had to be done. One could not afford to become a beast of prey devoured by jackals once the fight was over.
Richenstetten to the south, Azpen to the east. Enemies were still plenty. The threat of the Demon Realm was also looming. Therefore, they had to end it here, in one go, with the strength they currently possessed.
Broader and grander.
"The threat of the Demon Realm grows every year, and we are losing territory. I simply do not wish to stand by and watch that happen."
Krang cut straight to the point and spoke of the future. The two marquises were no fools; they understood. He was looking past the civil war. Krang was painting a picture of the future.
The two marquises fell silent.
"My chest is too narrow to comprehend such grand designs," Marcus remarked with a joke-like tone.
It was an old proverb. Though it sounded half-mocking, it carried the meaning that if understanding Krang's intentions was too difficult, they should simply trust and follow him. Naturally, the two marquises understood, though they didn't let it slide without a retort.
"That tongue of yours will bring you ruin one day."
"No matter how many times we tell him, he never mends his ways."
The two marquises criticized Marcus in refined tones, and Marcus followed his lord with a grin.
Krang stepped outside. It was time to meet the gathered nobles, guild masters, and merchants. He needed their strength. Neither his justification nor his military forces were abundant. Above all, to fight properly, they had to become one.
It would be ideal if they all shared the same will, but if that was difficult, they only needed to be bound together through a central focal point. And if nothing else worked? He could always offer terms. It was a thought that occurred to him anew.
Is this a disadvantageous fight?
Krang immediately dismissed his own self-deprecating question. Since when had he only fought advantageous battles? Besides, being at a disadvantage did not directly equate to defeat.
There was a man who had turned the impossible into the possible by his side. It would be enough if he could do even half of what Encrid had shown. It would be enough if even half of the luck Encrid always claimed to have followed him.
This was the first step.
Stepping onto the platform, Krang bathed in the pleasant sunlight and looked out at the assembly. The murmuring crowd naturally fell silent.
"Did you all sleep well?"
Those were his first words.
A few words were exchanged. The nobles' sighs, thoughts, and concerns poured out. Having heard them all, Krang quietly raised his hand and lowered it. The words that followed his brief gesture silenced them.
"I believe we will win. Do you not?"
Confident of victory? From where?
"Baron Jepl, I hear your light infantry is so swift that none can match them in the forest."
Jepl possessed a ranger unit raised, fed, and sheltered in the forest. He himself was the type to leap out of bed in the middle of the night if there was a hunt.
"...Yes."
"And I heard Baron Rudin is an excellent spearman."
"My skills are lacking."
"For someone with lacking skills, I heard you once dreamed of joining the knights. Am I mistaken?"
"It was a childhood dream."
His skills were said to surpass those of a squire. Krang smiled warmly.
"I believe a single time is all it takes. Just once."
His voice spread wide across the vast training ground and quickly faded. Yet, the words Krang spoke seemed to linger. It was as if his words remained floating in the air, engraving themselves into their minds.
With his arms hanging loosely at his sides, he showed only a faint smile. He did not look like a sovereign king, nor did he look like a grand strategist. Yet, he felt trustworthy. If he were a con man, he would have been the greatest swindler in history.
But he was no swindler. He was the next king, and the current head of this gathering.
"How do you intend to fight?"
"Since he asked to meet on the Nauril Plains, we shall do so."
His attitude was as casual as going out to greet a friend visiting from the other side of town. That composure and calmness, paradoxically, inspired trust. The belief that they would naturally win.
There were those who had trusted and followed Krang from the very beginning.
"I have fifty well-trained spearmen under my command. It is a small number, but please make good use of them!" one noble shouted.
"Though my skills are meager, I will stand at the vanguard."
"I have stockpiled provisions. I shall send wheat and beans."
Others added their voices. If anxiety could not be dispelled, it could be covered with faith.
"Trust me. We will win."
Krang did just that. Without any grand speech, he made those who remained belong to a single purpose. For he had said a single battle would suffice.
"What if Count Molsen harbors other intentions?" the Marquis of Okto muttered. He was a genius when it came to domestic affairs, but combat was different. War was not his area of expertise.
Stepping down from the platform, Krang answered his question.
"Because Count Molsen is ambitious, and because he is far too clever, he will do exactly that."
* * *
A month passed in the blink of an eye.
"Is not a single knight coming?"
At his guard and adjutant's question, Count Molsen replied while adjusting his armor.
"You must be disappointed."
"Yes."
"So am I."
He had built his forces under the assumption that the knights would intervene. Yet they were fighting without any knights?
Arrogance. That pathetic bastard.
Clank.
Clad in armor made of overlapping iron plates, with the magic sword symbolizing the Count in his hand, the fully armed Count declared:
"On the Nauril Plains, I will bring an end to the royal family."
Bwooooooo!
Stationed on the plains, the Count's forces blew their horn trumpets. It was the signal to come out and fight.