Chapter 183
Chapter 183
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 183
Chapter Title: 57. As Gloriously as Flames (1)
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Two days before the capital was besieged—that is, on the night when Montpellier, whose execution had been publicly announced, was bound to the tall pole in the square and shivering in the cold—Queen Margarita summoned one of the Royal Knights and instructed him to prepare for the worst possible scenario.
"In the direst circumstances, you are to protect the princes and princesses and lead them out of the capital."
At her words, the Royal Knight dropped to his knees.
"I have sworn my life to the bloodline of House Leonberger. To now ask me to turn a blind eye and flee in the face of the royal family's peril is something I cannot possibly endure."
She smiled appreciatively at his suggestion that she entrust the order to someone else.
"This is not an ignoble command to flee in disgrace, nor a blind order to cut and run. It is simply a plea to safeguard the children who will bear the kingdom's future, should the worst come to pass."
Yet her tone was absolute, leaving no room for refusal despite the word "plea."
"His Highness the First Prince commanded me to remain by Your Majesty's side, no matter what happens."
The Royal Knight nonetheless refused her order, citing the command of his own lord—even knowing that the "no matter what" his master spoke of meant a situation where he must lay down his life.
"Kals Yulihi, was it?"
At her words, the Royal Knight, Kals Yulihi, bowed his head in deep humility.
"That child has a knight far beyond his deserving at his side."
"It is already more than enough just to follow humbly in his footsteps—a mere mortal content with tracing those prints."
"No need for such modesty. Do you think that boy has an ordinary temperament? Serving such an eccentric master can't be easy, I imagine."
Kals Yulihi mumbled to himself. He clearly wanted to object but couldn't bring himself to spin lies before the Queen, so his mouth merely opened and closed soundlessly.
The Queen laughed again at his honest demeanor.
But the smile did not last long.
"That child's prickly nature is largely my fault."
She withdrew her smile and spoke in a somber tone.
Kals Yulihi simply kept his head bowed humbly, listening attentively to her words.
"When he was born, I wasn't prepared to be a mother."
The position of queen in a kingdom on the decline was no place for doting on a child like an ordinary mother.
Nights were spent battling blades hidden in the shadows, days clashing with nobles who had become little more than the Empire's lapdogs.
She lived every day walking a knife's edge.
There was no time to properly raise the child, let alone hold the tiny bundle in her arms.
Child-rearing was left entirely to wet nurses, while she devoted herself solely to supporting the King.
In the whirlwind of those days, time slipped by, the infant grew into a boy, and only then did she learn of the scandals surrounding him.
"Those who knew of the royal heir's misdeeds hushed them up. He never acted so brazenly before the King or me, so by the time I realized his warped disposition, it was already too late to do anything."
Kals Yulihi fidgeted uncomfortably at the unflattering talk of his lord.
But the Queen pressed on regardless.
"I tried stern scoldings and gentle coaxing alike. But he only straightened up briefly in my presence—out of my sight, his mischief only grew worse."
She had even asked her brother to mentor the boy, but it only confirmed that his nature followed neither his paternal nor maternal lineage.
And by then, no one remained at the child's side—not even his uncle, let alone his father.
"What right do I have to blame that boy's lowly nature? It was my own child, born of my womb, and I failed to guide him properly, letting him come to this."
At the self-mocking tone in her voice, Kals Yulihi ventured cautiously to speak.
"But you never gave up on him to the end. When the entire kingdom overlooked the grand ambitions His Highness harbored and spread only ill words, you alone believed in him and arranged that reunion with Count Bail Ballerhard. And so, His Highness was reborn as a new man."
"It wasn't that everyone failed to see his grand ambitions. There were none to begin with."
"But His Highness saved the North and became the hero the kingdom so desperately needs."
She offered no reply to her loyal knight's words.
Having donned full plate and taken up a bow after so long, she seemed to have grown sentimental, saying far too much already.
She had no desire to reveal now that summoning her brother back to the palace with death as collateral had been her final chance for the boy—and that if even that were rejected, she had intended to tidy up everything herself.
"He has accomplished much through shrewd means, yet he remains unstable. Without upright souls like you watching over him, that boy will surely burn bright like a flame and flicker out."
All she had asked was that he stay by the prince's side as he was now, ensuring the boy didn't consume even himself to ashes.
"I, Kals Yulihi, shall live as His Highness the Prince's sword until my dying breath."
Only then did Margarita smile in satisfaction.
"Then we have an understanding."
"What do you mean..."
As Kals Yulihi asked with a bewildered expression, she replied with perfect innocence.
"Did you not say with your own mouth that you would live your life as that boy's sword? To do so, you cannot squander your life lightly. Should the worst occur, remember this resolve and bide your time for the future."
"That is not what I meant..."
"I don't believe a man like you would speak with a forked tongue. Or have I misjudged you?"
Kals Yulihi looked deeply troubled.
To agree would bind him inescapably to her command; to deny it would paint him faithless. He seemed at a loss for words.
Margarita smiled warmly, even his rigid demeanor pleasing her.
"The enemy has begun their advance!"
The defender captain's report snapped Margarita from her reverie.
Even after silencing the knight who had been blustering out front, the enemy's momentum showed no sign of breaking.
A fitting hidden dagger, planted by the Empire right under the kingdom's chin.
"Archers, do not loose your bows until I command it!"
Her stern cry was echoed back by the knights spread widely along the walls.
Dong, dong, dong.
The drums of advance echoed from every direction.
"Huuu..."
The walls were filled with the soldiers' breaths, stifled to the limit by tension and fear. Even the stoutest knights panted roughly, overwhelmed by the enemy's surging presence.
"A little longer. We must draw them in further still."
Margarita soothed those on the verge of loosing their arrows in a frenzy, time and again.
Her calm voice, mismatched to the dire moment, steadied the soldiers' breathing, if only slightly.
But as the bloodthirsty foes finally entered arrow range, those barely calmed breaths grew ragged once more.
One hundred paces. Ninety paces.
"Give the order, please."
"Not yet."
Though the tense knight urged her like a prod, she shook her head.
Eighty paces, then seventy.
Dong dong dong dong.
The leisurely drums turned urgent. The enemy's steps quickened in tandem.
Sixty-five paces.
Now, even with the naked eye, one could distinguish the fierce glares beneath their helmets.
Sixty paces.
"Your Majesty!"
Even the defender captain's scream-like plea failed to twitch her brow.
Dududududu.
The enemy accelerated into a run.
And the moment they reached fifty paces, Margarita cried out.
"Loose!"
At her sharp shout, the archers released their strings in a frenzy.
"Kwaaaak!"
"Guhk!"
Screams erupted in succession from the enemy's vanguard.
Those struck in vital spots tumbled forward with their momentum. The lightly wounded clutched their injured limbs and collapsed in place.
Those following tripped over the sprawled corpses, tangling with the fallen and rolling across the ground.
"Prepare second volley!"
The capital's soldiers, half-dazed at witnessing hellish pandemonium for the first time, mechanically nocked arrows and drew strings at her command.
"Loose!"
Before the tangled ranks could disentangle, a second rain of arrows fell, sending the enemy's chaos to its peak.
Margarita relentlessly urged the archers on.
"Don't stop drawing!"
Her mouth shouted the words while her hands ceaselessly drew and released the northern strongbow's string.
Unlike the ordinary soldiers, enemy commanders in their ornate garb toppled one after another with arrows lodged in their foreheads.
Marksmanship of divine precision, never missing.
The knights and soldiers, their morale soaring, raised cheers.
But the enemy numbered in the thousands, while the outer wall's archers were a mere three hundred.
Though briefly thrown into disarray, the enemy at last reached the capital's walls.
Thud!
The enemy rams battered the gates.
Clang.
Ladders hooked onto the battlements.
"Archers, keep firing! Leave the ladders to the defenders!"
At Margarita's order, the defenders who had been watching the archers' valor grabbed their sharpened poles and swarmed the walls.
"Heave! Heave!"
Two or three men per ladder shoved them over, sending the hooked ladders toppling backward one after another.
The climbing foes screamed as they plummeted onto their comrades' heads below.
But the fallen ladders were swiftly reset, and the enemy swarmed up them like ants.
The defenders thrust with poles to push them back, but the ladders, laden with the enemy's weight, no longer toppled easily as before.
"Block them!"
"Die!"
The defenders bellowed as they jabbed with spears and swords. Enemies poking their heads over the parapets were skewered and fell away.
Yet the capital's defenders were too few to cover the vast outer walls densely. Inevitably, foes slipped through the gaps and climbed atop the battlements.
"We must abandon the outer walls now!"
Margarita sharply retorted the defender captain's scream-like report.
"Is this some rural backwater's abandoned keep? This is the capital of a nation! If we yield it so easily, how can the frontline soldiers fight without fear for their rear? And what of the citizens dwelling within the outer walls?!"
With those words, she took aim along the wall.
Then, with blinding speed, she drew and released.
The arrow flew like a streak of light, piercing the heads and chests of those atop the walls.
"Royal Knights and capital knights, prioritize the enemies on the walls!"
"But that would leave Your Majesty..."
"If the outer walls fall, I won't escape unscathed either! Protecting the walls is the priority above all!"
At her words, the knights left only the bare minimum behind and scattered along the battlements.
"We shall guard you with our lives!"
"I trust you!"
As the remaining men cried out with clashing swords, she replied crisply.
Even then, her hands never stopped.
Already, the enemy dead by her bow numbered over sixty.
And the blisters on her fingers swelled ever larger.
Her innate archery talent remained as sharp as ever after all these years, but her long-neglected fingers could no longer endure.
Soon, her fingers were drenched in blood.
"Your Majesty! Please, set down the bow!"
The Royal Knights pleaded desperately, but she turned a deaf ear.
"These soldiers are pouring out every drop of their blood! How could I hesitate over a mere handful from scratches on this wretched flesh?!"
The Royal Knights bit their lips at her stern voice, while the capital's defenders surged with even greater morale, pressing the enemy fiercely.
And the central battlements, blazing with unusually high spirits, drew the enemy's eyes.
At some point, the assaults began concentrating on the central walls where she stood.
To capture her and end the battle, the Empire's knights swarmed in.
In an instant, over a dozen knights and scores of soldiers scaled the center.
The five Royal Knights scattered sword flashes in all directions to block them.
Kals Yulihi was one of those five.
"Your Majesty! The enemy's onslaught grows fiercer! Please withdraw and preserve your precious body!"
He swung his blade wildly while begging her.
Pfeew.
In place of a reply came a sharp whistle. Through a gap in the clashing sword lights, a black shadow flitted with exquisite precision.
Thuk.
The enemy knight, who had moments ago fiercely crossed blades, toppled backward with an arrow buried in his helmet's eye slit.
Kals instinctively glanced back.
There stood the Queen, her expression unchanged amid the intensifying focused assault.
"Duck!"
Her voice was ice-cold. Almost simultaneously, Kals ducked on instinct as her fingers danced across the bowstring.
Twang, twang.
In the blink of an eye, the string snapped twice.
"Guhk!"
"Kwaaak! My eyes!"
Two screams rang out.
Kals whirled around.
An Imperial soldier thrusting a spear and a knight each had arrows pierced through eye and armpit, howling in agony.
Kals hurriedly scattered sword flashes, severing the throats of those not yet dead.
"Worry not for my safety—focus on the fight."
Kals gave a wry smile.
He had offered clumsy advice only to earn a scolding in return.
Even in the dire chaos, her unyielding spirit evoked someone unmistakably.
Truly, like mother, like son.