Chapter 137
Chapter 137
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 137
Chapter Title: 43. Dual Sword Mercenary (4)
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Dotrin's leadership fell silent. They merely blinked at me in astonishment.
"Leader of the Veil Mercenary Corps, Ian..."
Swipe.
Before the words could even finish, they rose from their seats.
And bowed their heads politely.
"In these trying times, the nobles of Dotrin greet the young lion of Leonberger, who has come without hesitation from afar."
"We offer infinite respect and gratitude to the prince of House Leonberger."
I was utterly dumbfounded.
At that moment, Dotrin's king burst into laughter.
He laughed so hard it seemed he might run out of breath. He laughed with such vigor that his face turned beet red.
I watched the king and his son gasping with laughter, lost in thought.
This was a council deciding the army's advance or retreat, where strategies to sway the tide of battle were forged in the minds gathered here.
Anyone who took security lightly wouldn't even be seated here to begin with.
It was a simple fact anyone could grasp with a moment's thought, yet I'd only just realized it now.
First, it was because I was so eager to rush to the battlefield.
Second, because I was so accustomed to my own kingdom's situation—infested with imperial lackeys everywhere—that I'd unconsciously assumed Dotrin was the same.
Lost in reflection, I glanced down at the sword in my hand.
Vmmm.
A radiance so brilliant it was almost excessive.
I could confidently say this was the first time Aura Blade had looked so shabby by comparison.
Shhh.
The Aura Blade faded. The sword cooled to a chill.
Step by step. Thud.
I took my empty seat.
As naturally as possible, as if nothing had happened.
"Ahem."
Dotrin's nobles desperately averted their eyes from me, pretending nothing was amiss.
It was a touchingly considerate gesture.
"The Veil Mercenary Corps is here."
If only that grinning fool Dolosis hadn't started snickering through his snout.
"The leader of the Veil Mercenary Corps, Ian, has arrived."
I ignored him. The nobles showed no reaction whatsoever.
With no one playing along, the fool's face visibly fell.
Once the tactless idiot had exhausted himself, the chaotic atmosphere in the conference hall settled considerably.
"Then, let's have our Veil Mercenary Corps leader briefed on the current battle situation."
But in the end, the king's words made the nobles burst into the laughter they'd been holding back.
I played dumb and waited for the mood to calm.
"Ahem."
One knight cleared his throat and stood to explain the situation.
His tone was deadly serious, devoid of any mirth.
"As of now, the imperial forces at the border number 11 legions and 32 knight orders. Our allied forces stand at 6 legions, 12,000 troops, and 20 knight orders."
A grand war mobilizing 17 legions and 52 knight orders in total between both sides—it took me aback more than I'd expected.
A battlefield where over 5,000 knights would clash.
The Empire was one thing, but Dotrin Kingdom had committed a formidable number of knight orders too.
And the war had only just begun.
Surely they hadn't poured all their knight forces into the initial skirmishes.
Indeed, the map spread on the table showed second and third defensive lines marked out. Meaning the frontline forces weren't everything. A minor nation I'd never even heard of until reaching the capital.
I looked around the room.
I took in the nobles and knights seated at the table, one by one.
Every one of them had eyes brimming with vitality, faces filled with fighting spirit.
Not a single soul showed fear in the face of the imperial invasion.
I let out a sigh.
The future I'd so desperately hoped for my kingdom was right here.
Loyal and wise nobles who thought only of their nation, valiant knights unbowed by a colossal empire, and a king and his kin who trusted one another.
A strange feeling welled up. I shook off the sentiment forcibly. And repeated to myself inwardly.
My kingdom will be like this soon enough. I'll make it so.
I reaffirmed it over and over.
While I silently resolved myself, the meeting pressed on.
"All fortresses and outposts on the front lines are under attack, with three in the southwest border proving particularly disadvantageous."
The knight pointed to the map.
His fingertip swept over the three frontline fortresses.
"How do we turn the tide?"
Dotrin's king, his face now grave, asked the nobles for their views.
"Reserve legions and knight orders from the rear are already mobilizing on request. But..."
"But?"
"We can only reinforce two of the three immediately. We'll have to abandon one."
The knight's tone was heavy.
"The reserves in the southwest aren't sufficient. Splitting them to save all three risks losing them all."
"If we must choose one, which?"
The knight tapped one of the frontline fortresses.
"Highwind Bastion Garrison."
The king asked the knight.
"Who's the overall commander there?"
"Count Bertin, Excellency."
"Why's my old friend who's supposed to be enjoying retirement in his estates out there?"
The knight sweated profusely as he replied to the king's question.
"He rushed to the frontline the moment war broke out."
"That old warrior's got no sense of limits. Tsk."
The king clicked his tongue and ordered the knight.
"Connect us."
No sooner had he spoken than one of the staff placed a communication crystal on the table.
A scrying orb I'd used a few times myself for contact.
"Connected, sire."
At the knight's words, the king spoke.
"Count Bertin."
[What brings Your Majesty?]
A clear, resonant voice came from the crystal.
"Is the situation dire?"
[Excellency! The enemy infiltrated via the waterways! Total of a hundred so far, and reinforcements keep coming!]
[Deploy the waiting troops to buy time, rally the archers, and sweep them out!]
Urgent reports and hasty orders rang out, followed by a pause before the old man's voice returned.
[What was that just now?]
"Never mind. Consider that heard."
The king, frowning deeply, spoke again.
"To the point: We have no reinforcements to spare right now."
[...]
Silence fell on the other end.
[None at all? Or just delayed?]
"Can't promise a timeline."
[...]
"Abandon the fortress."
The king's words drew a firm response from the old man.
[Empire forces on all sides—east, west, south, north. Escape's impossible.]
A groan rippled through the conference room.
[We'll hold as long as we can. If aid comes, good. If not, so be it.]
The old commander's voice, resolved to fight to the death, twisted the king's face in anguish.
I could read the king's torment plainly.
Sky knights ready to soar to the battlefield at a word, yet forced to watch the fortress's peril helplessly—his heart must have been in turmoil.
But the blades at the king's command weren't limited to sky knights.
"I'll go."
The leadership turned to me in unison.
"Even if you go, I can't send many troops with you. You might meet your end with the bastion."
The king gazed at me sternly and asked.
Would I still go?
"That's what mercenaries are for."
I answered without hesitation.
[Who's that? Never heard the voice before.]
Then the old man on the crystal spoke up.
"A mercenary newly hired by the crown."
[A mercenary?]
The old man's voice, briefly hopeful, turned skeptical.
The fortress on the brink, and they're sending some ragtag sellsword—he was visibly disappointed.
To the old man, the king said,
"I guarantee it. You won't be disappointed."
He'd be more help than one or two average knight orders.
* * *
With Highwind Bastion settled for the moment, the conference hall buzzed with renewed energy.
"We should relocate reserve forces now to prepare for any contingency. The current deployment can't flexibly counter the Empire's assaults."
"Moving reserves from outposts means scrapping all our plans! Better to commit rear forces to fill the gaps between reserves!"
"This war's a long haul! We need the front to hold with its own strength for now, saving rear deployments for later!"
Debate raged back and forth. Voices rose to shouts as commonplace, fingers jabbing accusingly at times.
Even the lowliest knight voiced opinions freely, rebutting the king himself if found wanting. No one saw it as odd or took offense.
Fierce argument unbound by rank or command—personal gain had no place.
They craved only victory, uniting in purpose toward it.
Nothing else mattered.
They seemed born and bred solely for this war against the Empire, to triumph in it.
Old memories surfaced.
My kingdom had once been just like this.
The meeting wrapped as I lingered in nostalgia.
I and the knights would ride wyverns before dawn tomorrow, heading near the front.
Given Highwind's urgency, we adjusted: wyverns at dawn two days hence, to the front's vicinity.
As everyone departed, the king fixed me with a profound gaze.
"Dotrin will never forget your devotion."
I sought no such thing. When my kingdom rose fiercely against the Empire, Dotrin at our side would be invaluable.
The king extended his hand.
We clasped firmly, eyes meeting.
His gaze brimmed with goodwill.
* * *
The situation shifted dramatically overnight.
Imperial mages, unseen until now, had flooded the battlefield, hammering Dotrin's fortresses relentlessly.
Communications with forward fortresses and the capital were severed.
"Still going?"
The king asked again.
My answer remained unchanged, no matter how many times.
Dolosis and Jin Katrin came to wish me luck. Kislan, the second prince I'd glimpsed upon arriving, sought me out too, expressing thanks and praying for my fortune.
Another day passed.
I walked the palace corridors, peering at the twilight-shrouded world outside.
After a long trek, a vast open plaza appeared.
Wyvern knights awaited there.
The knights in antique blue uniforms drew their swords in unison.
Vmmmm.
Brilliant glows gathered at their blade tips, banishing the deepening dusk.
"May fortune favor the young lion of Leonberger!"
The knights bellowed as one.
A modest send-off.
But it touched me deeply.
I strode among them, shoulders squared, head high.
"Return safe."
"We'll join you soon."
As I passed, knights bowed and offered words.
Some prayed for victory and luck, others thanked us for heading to the peril in their stead. A few vowed repayment someday, promising we'd meet again.
Passing them all, I reached the king.
Dotrin's king grinned roguishly and said,
"May the Veil Mercenary Corps' fame echo across the continent."
I neither smiled nor frowned at that.
I simply clasped the king's firm hand in silence.
"Death to the foe! Victory and glory alone to Dotrin's staunch allies!"
I mounted amid the knights' resounding cry.
I glanced back.
Dotrin's king and knights gazed at us identically.
I dipped my head in salute, then spurred my horse after the escorting knight.
We exited the palace, passed the capital's gates, and rode on to a mountainside where wyverns lay hidden.
There, I dismounted and boarded a wyvern.
"Hold tight!"
The wyvern roared powerfully and took flight.
The ground fell away swiftly; the grand palace vanished soon after.
At last, high in the heavens, the sun rose.
Back to the sun, we flew west, ever west.
And finally reached a foothill not far from the battlefield.
By then, the high midday sun had set.
"This is as far as I go. Good luck."
The wyvern knight who ferried us gave a curt farewell and soared skyward, circling overhead before vanishing east.
"I'll guide you."
After a short wait, Dotrin mountain infantry from nearby led our party.
Following them, a fishy tang wafted on the wind.
I inhaled deeply without thinking.
The acrid stench of blood and iron seared into my lungs.
Thump thump.
My heart pounded wildly.
Only now did I truly feel I'd arrived at the battlefield.
Whoooosh!
Then, dozens of fireballs streaked skyward.
I instinctively followed their crimson trails upward.
The enveloping darkness receded momentarily.
In the distance, a fortress's silhouette loomed on the plain.
Dozens of fiery streaks plummeted onto that massive shadow.
Boom!
Flames erupted everywhere.
Blazes soared high.
And the battlefield revealed itself.
A half-ruined gate, walls crumbled in places.
There lay the fortress on the verge of falling.
Ilai had told me.
Charging in there now would be madness.
In lieu of reply, I drew my swords.
Dusk in my left hand, Dragon Slayer in my right.