Chapter 168
Chapter 168
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 168
Chapter Title: 52. What Kind of Country Is This? (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Mongpellié's words made my heart sink.
"Where is the bastard now?"
I forced my pounding heart to calm as I spoke to him.
Terjuang? I'd never heard of that house before.
As far as I knew, there was no family by that name in the kingdom.
So I asked where it was.
"Imperial capital?"
"What?"
"You damn bastard!"
My surprise turned to anger, and the anger spilled out as curses.
"Why the hell did you make it sound like it happened on our land!"
Mongpellié offered a lame excuse before quickly continuing.
I steadied my shocked mind and listened to his explanation.
Dozens of castles in the Empire's south had burned to the ground, and cities lay in ashes. Among them were legions waiting at southern fortresses to join the fleet heading to Dotrin.
This was a real disaster.
A disaster for the Empire, which had lost dozens of houses overnight and suffered massive damage.
A disaster for Mongpellié, whose territory had taken considerable damage.
"Northeast means our kingdom's direction."
And a disaster for the kingdom's southern legions, who had no choice but to be sensitive to even minor changes beyond the border.
But just because they were all disasters didn't mean they were the same.
For the Empire, it was the greatest crisis since its founding.
For Mongpellié, it was a desperate situation tied to his house's survival.
And for our kingdom...
"An opportunity."
The perfect chance to escape the Empire's outrages and pressure.
Beyond the soundproof barrier, Mongpellié's whining had faded until I could no longer hear it. Lost in thought, I soon dusted myself off and summoned Winter Castle's leadership.
"How formidable is this Fire Dragon bastard?"
They wanted to know if the Fire Dragon's presence in the Empire was just a passing shower or a storm that would shake the roots of a great tree.
"Unless the Fire Dragon withdraws on its own, the Empire won't be able to rebuild its ruined castles and cities."
Wherever the Fire Dragon stayed became its territory. And the Fire Dragon was no being that showed mercy to those who invaded its domain.
Protests and negotiations were out of the question.
Even if it was a rightful protest from the original owner of the land, the only response would be flames that burned everything to ash.
"In other times, they might have taken time to resolve it somehow, but the current Empire has no such luxury."
It had to happen right when they were trying to conquer Dotrin and display the Empire's might to the world.
The first conquest had failed, and the second was practically a crushing defeat on land.
The Empire's fleets, which had landed twice via the south, were meeting fierce resistance from Dotrin and gaining no significant ground.
In such a time, their homeland had been ravaged by a Fire Dragon all the way to the core.
If they let time pass while ignoring both Dotrin and the Fire Dragon, the prestige and power the Empire sought to project would vanish without a trace.
They had to demonstrate the Empire's strength somehow. Before the surrounding kingdoms, long suppressed by the Empire, began to rise one by one.
But the opponents weren't easy.
A kingdom founded by the descendants of the Duke of the Firmament, who had prepared for war with the Empire for ages.
A horrific monster that had turned countless transcendents into handfuls of ash.
The word "dilemma" had been coined for the Empire's current state.
I recalled the Emperor looking down at me arrogantly from his throne.
The thought of that pompous Emperor now racking his brains made me burst into laughter without realizing it.
"And that's not all."
I chuckled as I told them what would happen to the Empire next.
If the damage to the Empire's prestige, allowing surrounding kingdoms to rise, was an invisible threat for now, then the carnage from all manner of beings drawn by the Fire Dragon's aura was a visible, far more tangible one.
Just as countless monsters and other races had lived in this north when the Light Dragon took root in the past, the Empire's lands would soon swarm with all sorts.
The only difference was that the Light Dragon had controlled its followers to build its kingdom, while the Fire Dragon wouldn't care one bit about its followers.
Whether they groveled in worship or charged out to attack humans.
Winter Castle's leadership, who had been racking their brains to infer the variables from the Fire Dragon's emergence, simultaneously raised their heads as if on cue.
Amid their gazes, I confirmed the guess they'd formed in their minds.
"You're right."
And added one more thing.
"All the Empire's territories bordering the Fire Dragon's domain will become Winter Castles."
The winter they'd face wouldn't be a soul-freezing blast of wind, but a scorching blaze blooming like flames on a winter's day, burning all in its path.
And in the wake of those infernal flames, only handfuls of ash—souls burned to nothing—would remain.
Countless deaths and chaos.
That was exactly what I'd been waiting for.
"I'm heading to the capital."
At my words, the leadership's momentum, somewhat relaxed after the war, sharpened like a blade once more.
There was much to do before heading to the capital.
Above all, filling the gaps from my absence in Dotrin was the top priority.
Vincent was swamped with castle lord duties, so Ranger Yorden guided me instead.
"That's the White Night Magic Tower."
Following Yorden's finger, I turned my gaze and saw the soaring tower in the distance.
Touched by the dwarves' hands, its exterior was breathtakingly beautiful.
The treaty with the Empire limited it to three floors, making it look like a typical magic tower sliced in half midway, but the dwarves had elevated even that potentially ugly form into art.
Thanks to them, it resembled an ancient ruin or relic of a bygone era.
Admiration escaped my lips.
But what I wanted to see wasn't just a beautiful building.
I brushed past the greetings from the guarding knights and rangers and headed straight inside.
The interior was as magnificent as its artistic exterior.
A space adorned with tasteful sculptures and decorations, never excessive.
"You've arrived."
At the center stood the high lich.
Ophelia, the White Night sorceress who hid her skeletal frame and grotesque form with false illusions.
"Yorden. Wait here."
"Yes."
Leaving Yorden—who dragged out his reply—I followed Ophelia up the tower.
The floor where Ophelia had first greeted me was just an empty space.
The real magic tower began on the second floor.
It was filled with bizarre facilities and equipment, and books bearing Ophelia's handwriting everywhere.
And there were about twenty wizards wrestling with them.
Wizards I'd only glimpsed from afar in the last battle, their sunken eyes muttering incomprehensible words or making meaningless gestures.
To me, they looked utterly eerie.
Sunken eyes, pale faces. Writhing as they moved hands and mouths—it was like watching the undead.
"Their talent doesn't match the ancient mages, but their zeal surpasses them."
As Ophelia said.
They barely slept, some dozing off only to jerk their heads up, mutter something, and nod off again.
Even those awake were filled with fatigue.
Among those weary wizards was someone I knew.
"Taylor?"
It was Taylor, second son of the Taylorheim family, my first duel opponent in the grand tournament years ago.
"Your Highness remembers the name of this lowly one."
Taylor accepted my acknowledgment with a face full of emotion.
"Why are you here?"
"Somehow, I discovered I had a knack for magic..."
Taylor straightened his shoulders as he replied.
But I hadn't asked about talent.
"Weren't you a knight?"
His realm and achievements were meager, but he was still an aspiring knight who had accepted mana into his body. And knights who took mana into their bodies couldn't learn magic, except for a very special few.
That had been the established theory in the past.
But now wasn't the past. Modern knights accumulated mana in rings, not their hearts. And those rings were remarkably similar to wizards' circles.
Realizing that, I glanced at Ophelia without thinking.
"Three or more is difficult, but one or two can be adjusted with minor tweaks to their aptitudes."
She added that the reason the tower's trainees could wield battle-worthy power in just two years was largely due to the ring power they already possessed.
A hypothesis flashed in my mind. But before I could unravel it, Ophelia shot it down.
"They can't use sword and magic at the same time. Also, the limit for sorcery walked through rings is four circles."
I'd briefly imagined battalions of magic swordsmen and clicked my tongue in disappointment.
Of course, if that were possible by common sense, the world would be overflowing with magic swordsmen.
Swallowing my regret, I moved to head upstairs when Taylor's voice held me back.
"Next time, for sure."
Turning, I saw Taylor and the wizards gazing at me with resolute eyes.
"As a proud wizard, I will stand behind Your Highness."
The wizards each chimed in.
They wouldn't fall after just one spell like last time.
Next time, they'd show the true flames of magic.
Their sunken eyes and fatigue-ridden faces were proof of their resolve—and the faithful time they'd devoted.
Before that zeal, I had no words.
I hadn't expected anything.
When I first came to Winter Castle, they were the ones whose meager talents and faded souls I'd seen and promptly forgotten. To me, they were mere hostages, tasty bait bundled up for Winter Castle's future.
Yet here they were, speaking with clear eyes of becoming the kingdom's future strength.
A strange feeling washed over me.
At the same time, something hot surged in my chest.
Right. What kind of country is this?
Countless masters and sorcerers had lived here, lion-like knights and dragon-like wizards existed.
A nation guarded by those lion-hearted souls who feared no death.
That was this country.
On the barren land of this small kingdom, more war poems and heroes had been born than anywhere else.
Before them, the Empire's ambitions had been crushed time and again, forced into bitter counterattacks that even relocated its capital.
That was Leonberg.
That's why the Empire had spent so many long years corrupting this nation's nobles and royals.
In the end, the royals lost their power, and the nobles fell to depravity.
But even amid that, the embers on this land endured.
Frozen in cold gales and blizzards, making the kingdom's visible reality so pathetic.
Yet the embers had continued unbroken.
And now, those embers were beginning to blaze anew.
The north was the start.
I turned from the newly kindled flames and gritted my teeth, climbing the tower in silence.
Ophelia said nothing.
She merely guided me through the tower's nooks and crannies.
Until we finally reached the basement dungeon, built hidden from the Empire's eyes.
A still-barren underground cavern.
"At latest, half the trainees will reach this place in six months. And here, they'll learn the old kingdom's magic."
Her words sounded like she was telling me to wait just half a year.
But I didn't have that much time to spare.
When I returned from touring the magic tower, new tidings awaited me.
"The Empire's forces that advanced into Dotrin's south have suffered a great defeat!"
Only a handful escaped by boarding the fleet.
It was the moment the Empire's second conquest ended in total failure.
"Dotrin's king and the Sky Knights Order have marched toward the Empire's homeland!"
And the moment the kingdom of the Duke of the Firmament began its counterattack.
I gathered Winter Castle's leadership and declared.
"I will head to the capital."
They, who already knew I was going to the capital, looked unsurprised.
"All knight orders except the Black Spear Cavalry."
But their calm faces didn't last.
"March south with me."
They weren't fools who wouldn't grasp my meaning.