Chapter 174
Chapter 174
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 174
Chapter Title: 54. Gloriously Like Flames (1)
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Once hailed as the Lion of the North, the kingdom had fallen into decline, reduced to the scornful title of Mad Dog of the North. The glory of its lion-like knights, who once struck terror into the hearts of the Empire, had become little more than a faded memory.
The Leonberger Kingdom of today was nothing but a pitiful little border state on the periphery.
And now, out of nowhere, this weakling nation had declared a severance of ties with the Empire and proclaimed a return to its past glory.
At a time when the wyvern knights of the Dotrin Kingdom were ravaging the Empire's eastern territories, turning them into a wasteland.
Some called it a timely declaration exploiting the chaotic currents of the age, while others mocked it as the tail wagging making the hips shake, ridiculing the royal family's folly in being blinded by dreams of past splendor.
The lion nation that had fiercely battled the mighty Empire for nearly two hundred years lingered no longer in people's memories.
But not everyone had forgotten the name of that ancient kingdom.
In an Imperial noble's castle strewn with rivers of red blood and gruesome corpses.
"The Leonberger Kingdom has declared independence!"
One wyvern knight excitedly relayed the urgent dispatch that had winged its way from the homeland.
The King of Dotrin, who had been perched atop the castle lord's corpse, gnawing away at a strip of jerky, abruptly sprang to his feet.
Gulp.
He roughly swallowed the half-chewed jerky and bellowed.
"At last, the time has come!"
The king chuckled heartily.
"But I'm worried they might be rushing things too hastily."
The young wyvern knight voiced his concern that the Leonberger Kingdom had only just begun internal reorganization and should have prepared more thoroughly before acting so rashly.
But the king saw things differently.
"True Katrin. True Katrin. What have I drilled into you time and again?"
"That once the spirit breaks, even a hundred thousand elite troops can't stand against the Empire."
"The Leonberger Kingdom is no different."
The king smiled generously as he explained to the young wyvern knight.
"They've lived like a vassal state of the Empire for over a century now. No doubt their land overflows with defeatism and fawning subservience. The Leonberger royals have swept away that rot in one fell swoop and set the nation straight."
"But with forces so woefully inadequate for battle, how will they hold out?"
"Prepare for ten years and match the Empire? A hundred years and surpass it? Do you think we're fighting toe-to-toe with the Empire because our numbers are equal?"
The young wyvern knight had no answer to that.
"War is not fought with passion alone. Compared to strategies and tactics forged in cold reason, a knight's zeal amounts to no more than twenty percent at best. But..."
The king gripped his spear with fierce resolve and declared.
"Sometimes, that twenty percent conquers the remaining eighty."
The wyvern knight still looked unconvinced. But the king never berated or pressed the promising young knight.
"No need to grasp it now. You'll witness it endlessly as this war drags on—you'll learn it whether you want to or not."
With that, the king turned to the wyvern knights sprawled haphazardly around him, catching their breath.
"I ask you: are Dotrin's knights shameless cowards who turn a blind eye to a friend's peril?"
"No!"
The wyvern knights, who had been watching their king intently, roared back in unison.
"Then, do you remember the foreign knight who came in good faith to shed blood at our side when Dotrin stood alone?"
"Idrian Leonberger!"
"Is Idrian Leonberger unworthy to be called Dotrin's friend?"
"He is a noble friend and a comrade we can trust with our lives!"
The King of Dotrin slammed his spear into the floor.
Boom!
The fine marble shattered in an instant, shards scattering in all directions.
"If you truly believe that, then what in blazes are you doing now! Are you nothing but loudmouthed frauds!"
At his thunderous rebuke, the wyvern knights surged to their feet as one and shouted.
"Absolutely not!"
"Then what must you do right now!"
"Fight for Dotrin's comrade! Repay his bond of friendship!"
Only at their response did the king cease his bellowing.
"Seize your spears. Tighten the reins on your wyverns."
The wyvern knights gripped their spears and stomped the ground with a resounding thud.
"We head north!"
At the king's proclamation, they pounded their spears again and again.
"For Dotrin's sworn ally!"
"To repay the young lion's friendship!"
Beholding them, the king cried out.
"Rest is over! Knights! We march at once!"
And thus, a hundred wyverns took to the skies.
"We should have annexed them completely ages ago! Then those fools wouldn't dare spout nonsense about independence and severance now!"
"Enough of your drivel! Even the wise men of old debated and decided to leave them be—not out of mercy, but because forcibly swallowing those northern hotheads born with rebel blood would mean constant uprisings. Better to let them cling to their hollow title and use them as a buffer against the monsters!"
In the grand hall where esteemed nobles were supposed to calmly deliberate the kingdom's future, the shouting never ceased.
"Crush any rebellion with force, and hunt down those monsters ourselves if need be! The Empire has the power for it!"
"Had we done that, I guarantee we'd be bogged down endlessly by their revolts and the beasts!"
The sudden declaration from the Leonberger Kingdom had sparked an unprecedented uproar.
"So what do you propose we do!"
"There are no gains to be had!"
"So you're saying we just sit back and let those insolent traitors defy the Empire!"
"When did I say that! I'm only saying the benefits of mobilizing don't outweigh the risks—proceed with caution!"
"With Dotrin ravaging our eastern borders! The homeland in ruins from some unheard-of monster called the Fire Dragon! The whole world mocks our Empire! If we let Leonberger slide too, no one will bow to imperial authority anymore!"
"And if we send an army and fail? What then? Don't you realize a defeat there could ignite the entire world against us!"
The cautious faction argued that after three failed campaigns against Dotrin, letting the Leonberger chastisement fail as well would spiral into an uncontrollable crisis.
But the majority of nobles, already furious at the upstart minnow's defiance, ranted that a massive force must be dispatched to behead the arrogant head of the Leonberger Kingdom.
At that moment, the Emperor's herald appeared in the hall.
"His Imperial Majesty decrees: we cannot tolerate such insolence. Mobilize all forces in the northern sector to chastise them!"
That single proclamation ended even the most heated debate.
Not even the cautious advocates, who had been shouting themselves hoarse, dared raise any objection.
Defying the Emperor's will was unthinkable in the Empire.
And so, the Empire's 27 legions and 42 knight orders stationed in the north began their march toward the Leonberger Kingdom.
At that very moment, Dotrin's wyvern knights struck their supply lines from the north, toppling empty fortresses in their path.
It was only natural that the Empire's advance slowed amid the chaos in their rear.
Some of the more timid legion commanders, fretting over their own territories in the wyvern knights' operational zone, even turned back.
But such cases were few.
The Empire's forces pressed northward steadily, if slowly.
All because of the Emperor's absolute command.
The Emperor prioritized subjugating Leonberger over Dotrin and issued an unconditional order to advance.
Even the legion commanders who had retreated under that ironclad decree were forced to turn their banners north once more.
Dotrin's wyvern knights redoubled their ferocious raids on the Empire's army.
But as the Empire's legions began coalescing one by one over time, their operations inevitably grew constrained.
No matter how swift and valiant the wyvern knights, no matter that their king was a knight who had reached the sublime heights—even a hundred could not indefinitely bind the feet of 27 legions.
The most they could manage was slaughtering every imperial messenger they spotted, preventing the legions from uniting into a single force.
Thanks to their frantic efforts, the Empire's army had no choice but to advance in fragmented groups of three to five legions each.
Among them, the first to reach the Leonberger Kingdom's border was a force of six legions led by the Empire's 17th Legion.
The Empire's 41st Legion, guarding the border, awaited them.
"Senior Knight de Gaulle de Dubis of the 112th Knight Order, 41st Legion of the Empire! It is my greatest honor to meet the renowned legion commander!"
The battle-hardened senior knight from the border guided the weary imperial veterans to the fortress.
The fortress commander, who had been eagerly awaiting their arrival, welcomed them with fanfare.
"You're far later than expected. Did something happen on the way?"
He had sent countless messengers, yet acted as if none had arrived. The legion commanders realized the wyvern knights must have intercepted them.
"Damn those Dotrin wyvern knights—nothing goes right because of them."
"Without them, all 27 legions would have assembled at the border by now."
The commander, grasping the situation, consoled the seething legion commanders.
"No matter how elusive those Dotrin wyvern knights, they won't dare strike here with seven legions assembled. Rest and recover in peace."
"We've barely slept properly thanks to those buzzing flies."
Indeed, the legion commanders looked utterly exhausted.
Per imperial guidelines from the capital, they had foregone every privilege due a legion commander throughout the march.
They stowed their ornate helmets and armor in wagons, donned common knight garb, and marched mixed in with the cavalry. When resting, they slept in dingy soldier tents instead of command pavilions—and even those were frequently relocated, a tiresome ordeal.
But they had no choice but to comply.
Some stubborn commanders who insisted on their dignity by marching like proper legion commanders had been slaughtered by wyvern knights.
One unlucky legion had its entire command structure wiped out mid-conference.
After that, all legion commanders relinquished their perks and dared not summon officers casually.
For men accustomed to privilege their whole lives, it was pure agony.
But that ordeal was over now.
As the fortress commander said, even wyvern knights wouldn't raid a stronghold with seven legions.
While recuperating in the fortress, they inquired about enemy intelligence beyond the border.
Senior Knight de Gaulle de Dubis, who had served there for a decade, briefed them on the kingdom's forces.
"I've seen countless kingdom knights fawn like lapdogs before imperial knights while snarling like wolves at their own soldiers."
Weak against the strong, brutal to the weak.
De Gaulle harshly criticized the kingdom army's frailty and lax discipline.
"The moment our forces appear at the border, they flee in terror. I guarantee a single shout from you commanders will scatter them like chaff."
The senior knight seemed genuinely convinced, not just flattering. They might not flee from a mere shout, but he'd bet they'd cower at imperial prestige and surrender swiftly.
"Silver Lion Citadel? An undeserved name. Dog kennel suits them better."
The 17th Legion commander and the others weren't in the habit of underestimating foes, but with every fortress officer echoing the sentiment, they came to believe the kingdom army was nothing but worthless rabble.
These were men who had served at the border for years, even decades, dealing with the kingdom forces—trustworthy sources.
With a rough grasp of the enemy's strength, the 17th Legion commander gathered the others.
"His Imperial Majesty desires their insolence punished without delay."
In other words: no waiting for the rest—strike their fortress first and claim the glory.
What fortress could a puny kingdom muster? Topple a few border outposts, and no real battle would even ensue. Miss this chance, and there'd be no merits to reap—that was his view.
The other commanders agreed.
A peripheral weakling's collapse was a foregone conclusion; to squeeze any gains from that mouse of a nation, they had to move fast.
In that sense, arriving first gave them the edge.
So they resolved to exploit their advantage aggressively.
"Rest four days, then strike the Silver Lion Citadel straightaway."
The fortress commander supported their decision, promising to attach knights and troops familiar with the border terrain and kingdom affairs.
The commanders weren't thrilled to share credit with the locals but accepted.
Local knowledge could minimize casualties, and fresh troops might let them plant the imperial banner in the kingdom's capital first—not just some border speck.
Thus, bolstered by two companies and twenty knights from the 41st Legion, they marched on the Leonberger Kingdom's fortress.
"The Silver Lion Citadel won't hold even a few days."
The attached senior knight chattered nonstop about the rose-strewn path ahead.
His honeyed words were so persuasive that even jaded commanders briefly envisioned imperial banners over the Leonberger palace.
Perhaps one of them might even replace the bumbling Montpellier as the new viceroy of Leonberger.
Once that thought took root, the kingdom's soldiers and people started feeling like subjects to shepherd.
That must have been why.
They ignored orders from the homeland to crush them ruthlessly as an example and felt inclined to show mercy.
The 17th Legion commander brushed off the knights' warnings of danger and stepped forward.
True to the senior knight's word, the kingdom troops were feeble. Spooked by the grand host, they had barred the gates tight and now peeked timidly over the walls, eyes darting about.
The 17th Legion commander thought.
What crime have they committed? Their lord simply made a foolish choice.
"Poor soldiers of the Leonberger Kingdom! Your master chose wrongly, and His Imperial Majesty intends to exact thorough punishment! He would trample you to show the world the fate of fools!"
The commander called out to the Silver Lion Citadel's garrison in a voice both gentle and authoritative.
"Yet I know not only the Emperor who punishes, but also the Emperor who shows mercy. If you truly repent and turn coat, I firmly believe His Majesty will embrace you in his vast bosom!"
Enraptured by his own rhetoric, the commander launched into a lengthy oration.
"Surrender! Open the gates and welcome us properly! Do so, and you all live—everything you sought to protect will remain intact!"
No one in the citadel stepped forward to reply.
The commander cleared his throat and urged surrender once more.
"Changing banners is no small matter, but serving a dark lord and following a misguided path is greater shame still..."
Swish!
Mid-rant, a sharp whistle pierced the air toward his ear.
Then came an alien sensation at his chest.
"Eh?"
The commander looked down at his chest.
A gold-fletched arrow was embedded there.
"To shoot... one discussing peace..."
Coughing up bloody froth, he gazed up at the ramparts.
An old man stood there, gripping a massive strongbow—unseen until now.
He looked too frail for a knight, yet too noble for mere nobility.
Before he could grasp the man's identity, the 17th Legion commander's eyes rolled back.
"Lord Commander!"
Beyond the knights' screams, a shout rang out.
"It's the King of Leonberger!"
And then, all sounds faded away.