Chapter 185
Chapter 185
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 185
Chapter Title: 58. The Ember Flame Reignites (1)
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Arwen suddenly glanced back.
The kingdom's army, whose morale had soared to the heavens with successive victories until just moments ago, was now galloping onward with tense, harried faces, as if being chased.
No one spoke a word.
They merely spurred their innocent horses onward in heavy silence.
In that desolate wasteland, where only the sound of hooves echoed through the silence, the missing Wyvern Knight returned.
The Wyvern Knight spoke urgently: the enemy's supreme commander, advancing north, along with three legions, had wheeled around and begun marching south. Their target was likely the allied forces currently on the move.
In their desperate rush to return to the border fortress, they had slammed into an unexpected obstacle.
The bad news didn't end there.
The empire's vanished legions had all revealed themselves at once. And their target was the allied forces in motion.
"What will you do, Your Highness?"
At Count Brandenburg's question, the prince eyed the Wyvern Knight and ground out his words.
"This is our only chance to slip out while the enemy's encirclement is still loose."
"Our Order of Sky Knights will lead the way."
The Wyvern Knight soared high into the heavens, volunteering as guide for the army.
"Let's go."
From that moment, they rode like madmen. The only rests came when the Wyvern Knight vanished from sight to scout the surroundings. Horses and riders alike tired swiftly.
The high spirits buoyed by four straight great victories plummeted, and all their pent-up fatigue crashed down at once.
"What is this? Anyone would think we're routed remnants."
Sensing the mood belatedly, the 1st Prince forced a bright laugh and joshed the knights and soldiers.
"Looks like the northern hicks are feeling glum, riding borrowed horses back home after such a lucky jaunt."
"Pretty flashy jaunt for a trip."
Ballerhard's veteran rangers bantered cheerfully, playing along.
The atmosphere lightened considerably.
Emboldened by it, Count Brandenburg—lord of the Iron Hammer Archers—asked the 1st Prince,
"The capital should be fine, right?"
The freshly livened air sank in an instant.
Count Brandenburg wore a face full of regret for his imprudence, but the milk was already spilled.
The 1st Prince scanned the deflated mood and replied evenly.
"Even with His Majesty and the main force gone, the capital still holds the garrison and a thousand elites from the central army. Dozens of the kingdom's finest court knights from the Royal Knight Order and a hundred from the capital's own order are there too. If they hold a few days, the Iron Lions two days out will ride to the rescue. No way they can't manage that."
It was utterly reasonable.
The capital's defense plan called for Iron Lion Bastion forces to intercept any approaching enemy first.
Even if things went awry and foes slipped the Iron Lions' watch to reach the capital, the garrison and central army had the chops to buy time until the bastion's troops arrived.
"Unless the enemy throws at least three legions at it, the capital won't fall."
Right after the empire's declaration of war, the kingdom had beefed up border defenses and surveillance. The southern army wasn't so inept as to miss a massive legion on the move.
"The empire's aim is probably key assassinations or rattling the rear to shake frontline morale. Either way, they won't pull it off."
Not a word from the 1st Prince rang false.
Yet Arwen couldn't shake her unease. And she belatedly realized why her anxiety lingered.
The prince's face stuck with her.
His expression seemed calm but was subtly rigid, lacking his usual easy poise.
A prince who kept his cool even in battle's thick.
Once she clocked that, Arwen's anxiety spiked.
But she alone noticed.
The others were nodding along, visibly relieved by the prince's words.
Arwen schooled her features.
No point stirring trouble with shaky guesses. Even if she was right, it helped nothing now.
She held her tongue.
The Wyvern Knight, off scouting nearby, reappeared in the sky.
The brief rest ended, and the unit pressed on.
Thus, they crossed the border.
One day out from Silver Lion Fortress.
Piiiiiiiek.
The lead Wyvern suddenly shrieked a warning and circled wide twice.
Signal: two enemy legions ahead.
"We punch straight through."
The prince opted for breakthrough over detour.
Turning tail here wouldn't evade the noose already tightening without a fight—better to smash through while their numbers were thin.
No dissent.
Anxiety much eased, but knights weary, all itching to reach the fortress ASAP.
"I'll take point."
The prince drew his favored blade and surged ahead. Behind arrayed the Black Spear Cavalry and northern knight orders.
"Don't you dare fall off. Especially you rangers. Your horsemanship's hopeless no matter how much time passes."
The tense lot snickered at the rangers' pouts over the prince's out-of-left-field ribbing.
"No confidence? Cling on and gallop. Breakthrough, not wipeout, is the goal."
Rangers shot back they'd grip like yanking a deadbeat's hair. Knights and soldiers burst out laughing again.
Meantime, the unit crested the hill. Far off, two enemy legions as signaled.
"Then, charge."
The prince dropped his visor.
Clink.
Horses began a slow canter forward.
Arwen mashed down her helmet and steadied her breath.
The horse's sway started leisurely, quickened bit by bit—then turned to fierce bucks.
Thud-thud-thud-thud.
Earth-shaking hoofbeats rolled across the plain.
Empire troops, spotting the allied horse surging from the hill, panicked into hasty battle lines.
Pikemen rushed spears slanted anti-cavalry. Archers scrambled into firing formation behind.
Before pikemen could tighten spear gaps.
Before archers nocked their first volley.
"Charge!"
The prince bellowed.
Horses exploded past the hill. Amid the thunder, the prince's signature chant drifted out.
Whooooong.
Rings hummed madly in resonance.
The familiar thrum of his battle verse.
That instant, the lead prince plunged into the pikemen's anti-cavalry heart.
And slashed.
Exposed pikes shattered shaft to tip; soldiers beyond toppled like matchsticks.
Arwen tore her eyes from the prince, unleashing on the formation. Star-like sword flashes rained meteors, skewering pikemen.
Golden afterimages and pale gleams detonated late into the archers' center.
The empire's vaunted anti-cavalry line crumpled without a breath's resistance.
The prince trampled the wreckage—not pausing to rack kills or wheel for total rout.
Just scattering hazy sword glows ahead while riding flat out.
Arwen spurred after. Ilai heir Bernard and Adelia Bayern flanked her, parting the way after shattering the front.
The prince was already far out.
"...!"
Then a knight in ornate plate barred him, sword tip blazing glory.
Empire's pride: a paladin.
The paladin bellowed deep and thrust.
But no chance to flaunt his arts.
The prince murmured low and struck. Karrr—a hair-raising grind—then the bold paladin clove in two.
One stroke halved a paladin, yet no victory roar.
"Out of my way. No time."
Just irritably mulching foes in train.
Overawed, enemies scrambled aside. The prince thundered through without glance back.
Blocked again? Lights flew, and on.
Charge never slackened.
Arwen and swordmasters darted flanks, fore, rear—slashing to keep allies from isolating in the prince's blistering pace.
"Enemy breached!"
Suddenly a shout.
Time to crack two legions: insultingly short.
No breather to cheer.
Prince still flying; knights hammered spurs to keep up.
Arwen, dropped back for stragglers, eyed the empire troops.
They gawked slack-jawed as allies vanished—no thought to reform.
Brains fried by the lunatic breakthrough.
After a glance, Arwen scooped stray rangers and quit the field.
That evening, Silver Lion Fortress.
"Well done."
The king himself swung the gates wide to greet them.
Right there, he praised their four crushing triumphs and toils.
War unfinished—no merits awarded. Modest welcome for such feats.
No gripes.
The king's pallor was ghastly.
Years of burning every scrap of vigor for the kingdom had turned the already age-worn man into a true elder.
Wrinkled visage, flaky skin—no mistaking him for mid-forties.
The prince, shocked by his father's decay, skipped thanks despite the king's praise—impertinent even.
The king led them in.
The prince hadn't breathed a word on the capital till then. Nor did the king volunteer news.
As if father and son both shunned the topic on purpose.
But the capital's fate loomed large—couldn't dodge forever.
Arwen drew a slow breath.
Once braced, she stepped up gingerly to ask the king.
Any word on the capital?
The prince flinched. The king eyed her with parched gaze.
"Nothing yet."
Calmer answer than feared—Arwen soothed herself.
If trouble, word would have come. As prince said, capital wouldn't fold easy.
She chanted it to herself endless times.
"Hm?"
Trailing the king, she halted abruptly.
Lifted eyes: snowflakes drifting down, one by one.
King and prince halted too, heads up.
"Winter's back."
The king murmured dryly.
Snow settled on his shoulder. Onlooking knights draped thick fur cloak.
"Inside, Your Majesty."
The Royal Knight Order captain urged; the king resumed steps.
But barely paces in, he froze again—gazing north sky. Prince mirrored, staring the king's distant mark.
Arwen followed suit.
Brooding clouds, thickening flurry—beyond, a speck bloomed.
Speck to vast shadow, to wyvern.
King and prince mute till the wyvern thudded into the yard. Frozen solid since its reveal.
Thud.
From the landed beast, Dotrin's prince—familiar to Arwen—emerged.
Normally, the king would've warmly hailed the ally prince; the prince sly-joked. Silence from both.
Even Dotrin's prince lips sealed.
"Your Majesty."
At last, Dotrin's prince spoke.
"Empire forces now hold your capital's outer walls and parts, hunkered down. Your knights and troops have retaken seventy percent of the outer. Confirmed reports: most royals and brass slipped out safe before the fall."
Delivered the outline, then hushed.
Voice resuming: utter despair.
"But your queen is not among the escapees."
Forced rasp, lips pried, words wrung painful.
"To repeat: your queen held enemy eyes till the end, resisting—last instant, hurled herself from the battlements."
Arwen's heart plummeted.
Drained pale, she eyed prince and king.
Both stone-faced.
Or so it seemed.