Chapter 190
Chapter 190
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 190
Chapter Title: Requiem for Her (3)
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Following behind the crown prince, Malcoi recalled the recent events.
'It bruises my pride, but if we fought, I'd lose for sure. Even if there were two of me, I wouldn't be confident of victory.'
'That strong?'
'Just a guess, but you'd need monsters on the level of those serving the emperor to stand a chance against him.'
Percival, overwhelmed by the crown prince's aura to the point of vomiting a bowlful of blood, had described him as a monster with a look of utter dismay. He said that to properly face him, you'd need at least the emperor's royal guards.
If Percival's words held even a shred of truth without exaggeration, the crown prince was a genius unlike any other in the world. Not just any genius, but a true one who had already blossomed his talents.
He must have swung his sword day and night in training. And he must have gained real combat experience to match.
That was why he could so arrogantly declare he would show them a real war.
But while Malcoi acknowledged the crown prince's astonishing realm and genius, he didn't rate the experience of this barely twenty-year-old so highly.
At best, he'd rolled around in the north for a few years, and in the war with the empire for a few months.
To speak of a "real war" based on such limited experience was far too presumptuous.
Malcoi, on the other hand, had watched his homeland's fall, fought in countless battles, and even joined the conquest of the Dotrin Kingdom alongside the fallen second imperial prince.
For such a man to be told he'd be shown a real war—it didn't sit right at all.
If he weren't a mere nominal guest, still essentially a prisoner, he would have laughed off that childish boast in an instant.
But Malcoi couldn't do that now.
The treatment of his imprisoned subordinates depended on the crown prince's mood. There was no need to irk him and make things harder for them.
So he hid his true feelings and followed the crown prince.
With an unchanging, expressionless face.
"If you don't want to be mistaken for an enemy and die pointlessly, change into this."
Even when the crown prince handed him Leonberger Kingdom Army uniform, and even as he climbed the tense battlements, his face remained impassive.
He merely pretended to reluctantly look around.
Soldiers gripping swords and spears glared beyond the walls. Archers lined along the battlements held their bows lowered, awaiting orders. Behind them, what seemed to be officers bellowed and kicked the soldiers' rears.
"...!"
"......!"
The language of the Leonberger Kingdom was unfamiliar to him, but guessing what the officers were yelling wasn't hard.
Line up straight, you idiots.
When the order comes, the first volley hits no matter what. Anyone who misses deals with it themselves.
Something along those lines.
A sigh escaped him naturally.
He hadn't expected much, but the scene before him was disappointingly predictable.
He'd been promised a real war, yet it was just a show of his soldiers' high morale.
Malcoi sighed and glanced at the crown prince.
Whatever he thought inwardly, the crown prince was focused on his duties.
The crown prince gathered the one-eyed knight and a few men in mountain infantry gear who looked rather frivolous, issuing orders.
The knights and mountain infantry glanced at him upon receiving them. Their fleeting looks were laced with clear contempt.
Even one particularly frivolous-looking mountain infantryman clicked his tongue at the sight of him.
It wasn't a pleasant experience, but Malcoi didn't show it.
He wasn't so hot-blooded as to take offense at such trifles, nor so lacking in judgment as to reveal his displeasure and forget his position.
Or so he thought. And it was true, to an extent.
The kingdom army's disdainful gazes had no effect on him. But the stare from that frivolous, especially irritating-faced mountain infantryman was hard even for him to stomach.
A look of annoyance, as if burdened with luggage.
Like a nanny forced to care for a child who couldn't control its bowels.
Watching it would only churn his stomach more, so Malcoi turned away.
After a short wait, the one-eyed knight led other knights away. The mountain infantry soon started chattering and snickering among themselves.
Confirming their attention had shifted from him, Malcoi let out a sigh.
Then the crown prince approached and said,
"From there to here. That's the section you guard until the battle ends completely."
Malcoi frowned.
"You said a guest's advice was enough. Are you going back on our agreement now?"
He protested that he'd come to see a real war, not to fight from the kingdom army's perspective by climbing the walls.
The crown prince smirked.
"You're being awfully picky. Fine. I'll play along this time. Need some motivation? If you hold this spot until the battle's over, I'll release five prisoners. Stand out with some merit, and I'll reward you accordingly."
Malcoi eventually feigned reluctance and accepted the proposal. He couldn't keep refusing given his position, and freeing five more subordinates was an offer too good to pass.
"I'll take my reward as releasing my men."
The crown prince shrugged with his usual arrogant expression, saying do as he pleased.
"Oh, and don't expect help from your adjutant this battle. I sent him to the opposite wall. You probably won't meet until it's over."
"Why Percival..."
"Told him I'd free two prisoners per imperial knight he kills. He bolted off excited."
Malcoi sighed.
His adjutant had always been inscrutable, but lately it felt even more so, leaving him uneasy.
But that passed quickly. He soon gauged the imperial forces slowly closing in beyond the walls.
About 1,500 in sight. Assuming equal forces on all four walls, the enemy totaled around 6,000—three legions.
The kingdom army opposing them was roughly one legion. A count he'd made over time since release, so likely accurate.
The force difference was about three-to-one against them, but with defensive advantages, it wasn't insurmountable.
Especially with the kingdom army's unusually high morale—they could hold the castle without much trouble.
"What on earth is the emperor thinking?"
He couldn't fathom the purpose of the empire's pointless repeated assaults.
But his thoughts didn't linger.
Dong, dong, dong.
The imperial army's drums grew closer.
Dong-dong-dong.
The intervals shortened, their steps quickened.
Bwoooo!
In response, horns blared from the castle.
And the battle began.
Up until the battle started, Malcoi brimmed with composure.
Though he was just a single knight, not a legion commander, he figured it made no difference.
But he was wrong.
The battlefield as seen by a legion commander differed from that of a mere knight.
Flashing blades everywhere and arrows sprouting from below the walls dazzled his eyes.
The clash of weapons and soldiers' screams deafened his ears.
The stench of blood and excrement from the dying had long numbed his nose.
The heated breaths and sweltering air from foes and allies alike made breathing labored.
In that chaos, Malcoi fought without rest.
To shield himself from the sensory onslaught, he kept his rings spinning ceaselessly.
By the time the sun set and the enemy retreated, he was utterly exhausted.
Honestly, he hadn't even noticed them withdrawing. The fight just ended amid the fray.
The next day, and the day after, battles continued.
Malcoi regained some composure compared to the first. But it didn't last.
His overworked rings from consecutive fights acted up. Mana was scarce.
No time to replenish the depleted mana. Enemies pressed endlessly, showing no mercy.
He fought sword in hand with mana exhausted.
When the battle ended, his arms and legs cramped relentlessly.
The next day was worse.
Having barely endured the previous day with mana nearly gone, his condition was abysmal. Muscles strained in place of mana refused to obey.
Desperate fighting saw another day pass.
Malcoi slumped against the wall, pride abandoned, gasping for breath.
Tomorrow loomed burdensome. It was infuriating and unjust to suffer so in a castle unrelated to him.
He wanted to call off the crown prince's deal and descend right then.
But he suppressed the urge.
Endure a bit longer, and some subordinates could escape the cold prison.
Thinking of them suffering in the freezing cell steeled his resolve.
Glancing around, he saw the kingdom army.
Faces full of fatigue, yet they quietly checked gear, inspected walls, prepared for tomorrow.
The irritating mountain infantry, still energetic, even bickered and laughed.
Malcoi gritted his teeth.
He couldn't appear inferior to mere soldiers, not even knights.
So he resolved.
But Malcoi didn't know.
Those he saw as mere soldiers were elite rangers hardened by annual orc wars, tough enough to defend walls for a month straight, not just five days.
Nor could he imagine.
That those elites had subtly herded enemies throughout the battles.
Naturally, the one issuing such orders was Crown Prince Idrian Leonberger.
"Work him to the bone. As long as he's breathing."
Yorden and the rangers executed my orders splendidly. By the tenth day of the siege, Malcoi was already in rags.
"Push him more, and he might swing his sword wildly and tumble off the wall alone. Shall we keep going?"
I nodded without hesitation.
Not enough yet.
For this half-baked strategist, who thought only he knew war's horrors and ugliness, to face reality, he needed more pressure.
"He must have really gotten under your skin."
Yorden clicked his tongue.
Misunderstanding that I was just disciplining an insolent prisoner.
"Not trying to mess with him on purpose."
I was just angry.
Malcoi resembled my past self too closely.
Strutting as if transcending death. Only after losing my uncle did I realize none of those deaths were mine.
Malcoi was the same.
He'd witnessed his homeland's fall and war's atrocities. Served an imperial prince in battle. He overconfided that he knew war better than anyone.
Yet none were truly his wars.
I'd heard much from his adjutant.
About how Malcoi lived, what he thought.
If true, all his "wars" weren't his own.
His fallen kingdom's demise, as a prince, was just watching others fight safely from the rear.
Even if his family was slaughtered and he captured, he was merely a spectator.
He didn't grieve the soldiers dying against the empire, nor ponder their resolve.
He took it for granted, resenting those who abandoned or betrayed that duty.
While never wielding a sword himself. Just watching his father send them to slaughter.
The war for the prince was similar.
As legion commander, he offered opinions from safe rear. Ignored, he watched the prince die.
Clinging to imperial cause without merit, a defeated general blaming the prince for not listening.
For such a man to strut as a war expert was absurd.
Like a foolish sword arrogantly claiming to know the world.
I couldn't let it be.
Wasting rare talent on arrogance and ignorance was a shame.
I intended to keep him by my side.
His command skills were vital for the kingdom.
But not like this.
First, fix his twisted temperament from betrayal by his people. Shatter his rigid worldview from immature insight.
To do that, I had to grind him down.
Until he vomited, wished for death instead. Until useless thoughts vanished far away.
That harsh grinding would erase his flawed beliefs and values born of shallow insight.
I awaited that moment and ordered,
"Grind him. Until I say stop."
Yorden grumbled about being sick of babysitting but faithfully carried out my command.
I cut down imperial soldiers without respite, never losing sight of Malcoi.
Watching him suffer brought a tiny, tiny bit of satisfaction.
I'd told Yorden no, but honestly, he didn't sit well with me.
I am the observer who has witnessed countless wars and chaos,
And the closer who has ended endless wars and chaos.
A novice strutting before me as if mastering war needed a bit more suffering.