Chapter 193
Chapter 193
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 193
Chapter Title: 59. Requiem for Her (6)
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The reinforcements from Winter Castle had finally arrived at the fortress.
I went out to meet them beyond the north gate.
"All Rangers, halt!"
At the lead Ranger's shout, his men snapped to attention in perfect formation. A mage from the White Night Tower stepped forward, his white robes billowing, the Rangers lined up before him.
"Your Highness..."
He was a man who had once dreamed of becoming a knight, but now he had discarded his chains to forge a circle of magic within his body—the second son of the Tailheim family.
"Taylor of the White Night Tower and sixteen mages pay our respects to the Crown Prince of the kingdom!"
"You've had a long journey. Well done."
I grasped the hand of Taylor Tailheim, who cried out in emotion, and quietly helped him to his feet.
I had so many questions.
How was Winter Castle faring? How were Vincent and the other Rangers holding up? What was the situation in the mountains?
"We'll talk later."
But instead of unleashing my questions, I turned my head.
Thud. Thud.
The heavy clamor of hundreds of steel-booted feet came to an abrupt stop before me.
They bore banners emblazoned with an inverted yellow-white flame on a black field. On their backs were packs larger than their bodies, and they were cloaked head to toe in pitch-black mantles—a contingent of soldiers stood before me.
Dwarves.
Not just any dwarves, but the elite among their fiercest and most belligerent clansmen: war specialists from the "Boiling Iron Legion."
The inverted yellow-white flame was the symbol of the Iron Legion.
The dwarf at the front of the Iron Legion suddenly flung back his cloak and stepped forward. He removed his horned helmet, tucking it under his arm, and thumped his breastplate with resounding booms.
"General Gurkha. I've come with warriors of the clan to lend a hand."
A General among dwarves was a big deal equivalent to a human general. Stunned but pleased by his identity, I extended my hand.
"Idrian Leonberger. I never imagined the dwarves would send reinforcements."
"If you truly thought that, you'd be underestimating dwarven friendship. We never ignore a friend's plight."
The burly General gripped my hand roughly, flashing his jagged teeth in a grin.
It was a fierce yet hearty laugh, like a wolf's howl.
"Seems that way. In any case, welcome."
"Mind if we scout the fortress?"
Gurkha glanced back. Following his gaze, I saw five wagons covered in thick cloth.
"Hand cannons?"
"Few in number, but their power is nothing to scoff at, I assure you."
"From the Iron Legion, no less. They must be impressive."
"You know of the Iron Legion's name."
"Just a few lines from a book."
"What did it say?"
"An army made up of the fiercest warriors among the dwarven clans."
"That's not quite right."
Gurkha shook his head sternly at my words.
"The Iron Legion's warriors aren't just fierce—they're exceptionally savage and skilled."
With that, he burst into booming laughter as if his reply was the height of wit.
His tone was playful, but the confidence behind it was real.
The Iron Legion had every right to that confidence.
They were one of the most formidable fighting forces I knew.
For me now, this unexpected powerful ally was nothing but welcome; I could tolerate even his lame jokes.
I summoned the garrison commander and ordered him to guide the dwarves around the fortress at once.
A few dwarves followed the commander. Gurkha and the rest headed into the fortress under escort.
I watched the small, sturdy dwarves' backs with a satisfied smile.
But that lasted only a moment. I composed my expression.
The unexpected guests weren't just the dwarves.
And the final group was far less welcome than the dwarves.
A bit farther off stood a hundred men and women, heads held high.
Their red cloaks trimmed with gold thread were ornate yet dignified. Their ivory helmets covering their noses and shoulder armor were elegantly shaped yet sturdy. The pure white uniforms peeking from beneath their cloaks looked holy and priestly, but their disciplined aura was sharp as a blade.
Their grace was so striking that the fortress wall guards raised a clamor just to catch a better glimpse.
At least they wore their helmets snugly—that was a relief.
Had they not, the uproar would have been tenfold.
Few humans could behold an elf's bare face and keep their wits; battlefield soldiers even less so.
But to me, their exquisite beauty was nothing but repulsive and nauseating.
I knew better than anyone the black hearts and serpentine nature hidden beneath those angelic exteriors.
Besides, my last parting with Sig rune hadn't been pleasant, so I had no reason to welcome these elves' sudden arrival.
Just their presence before me churned my stomach.
Visions of the sword maidens'惨 slaughter flashed like phantoms.
Long-buried memories resurfaced, igniting my rage.
But before I could vent it, someone else stepped forward first.
Yorden and the Rangers.
Snap.
The Rangers, who had spread out unnoticed, loaded their crossbows and surrounded the elves. The eyes of these cheerful men, who cracked mad jokes anytime anywhere, burned with unprecedented ferocity.
"Your Highness, just say the word. We'll turn them into pincushions right now."
Yorden rasped to me, his voice thick with grit.
His demeanor was as if facing an archenemy.
He clearly hadn't forgotten the grudge from when I'd nearly died because of Sig rune.
"Scum we should chew up and spit out. Who do they think they are, crawling here?"
Hearing Yorden grind his teeth like that somehow doused my boiling fury.
It felt like I'd missed the moment to unleash my anger.
I sighed and ordered Yorden to stand down.
"I can't, sir. Last time you went out alone like this, you got badly hurt. I won't back off this time."
"Yorden."
"Punish me if you must. But I can't obey you now."
"I know what you're worried about. But I'm not the same as back then, so what you fear won't happen."
"How many times have you said that and ended up unconscious? I don't want to see you like that again."
Yorden always grumbled but faithfully followed orders—except this time. He wouldn't budge.
I sighed again.
I understood his heart, so his repeated defiance didn't anger me.
But we weren't alone here. And Silver Lion Fortress was a wartime bastion.
Defiance of orders was never acceptable.
"Ranger Company Commander Yorden. I won't repeat myself. Stand down."
Yorden reluctantly withdrew. But he kept his crossbow loaded, glaring at the elves like he might charge at any provocation.
Even I couldn't press him further on that.
I stepped forward past the Rangers toward the elves.
Surrounded by countless Rangers, they showed no change in expression.
They simply stood straight, gazing at me.
"Didn't Sig rune tell you where elves belong?"
I infused my words with hostility and killing intent, making clear the kingdom had no welcome for them.
But the elves remained composed.
Snap.
One man stepped forward.
His exceptional features and extraordinary aura marked him no ordinary elf. No doubt, a High Elf.
"Prince of Leonberger Kingdom. On behalf of our kin, I offer sincere apologies and condolences for the horrific misdeed committed by Executor Sig rune..."
The High Elf spoke smoothly, his tongue oiled like a salesman.
"This isn't elven land. This is kingdom territory. Yet you show no proper respect to your hosts. And you dare speak of sincerity?"
Thud.
I stomped lightly, unleashing my aura. My exalted presence surged outward, pressing down on the elves.
The chattering High Elf's face stiffened as he urgently spoke.
"We forest dwellers, ignorant of kingdom customs, have committed a breach."
The High Elf dropped to one knee. The other elves followed suit.
"Please forgive us."
He apologized once more for Sig rune's atrocities.
"It's not for me to decide forgiveness."
I called over the half-elf watching me from among the Rangers and placed her at my side.
Gunnu silently looked down at the elves.
The High Elf's face twisted as if suffering unprecedented humiliation. His gaze at Gunnu brimmed with contempt and rage.
It seemed the proud pureblood elf chafed at kneeling before a mere half-breed.
But I had no intention of indulging such petty pride.
"If you wish it, they won't leave alive."
I raised my hand slightly.
The Rangers lifted their crossbows again. The wall guards, confused but obedient, nocked arrows at the elves.
Up to then, the High Elf remained calm.
A hint of displeasure, but he'd braced for this—mere posturing to assert dominance, he thought.
But that composure lasted only until my hand rested on my sword hilt.
I released my aura and presence, laced thick with killing intent and malice.
The High Elf stared at me, face rigid.
"Prince of the kingdom, no custom treats envoys so harshly."
"You called yourselves ignorant savages moments ago, and now you presume to lecture me on human law?"
Before he could spout more nonsense, I cut in.
"If you came to apologize for Sig rune, you should have come prepared to accept her punishment."
He protested my words.
Venting on the wrong person was unjust.
It sounded reasonable, but I ignored it.
As if these bastards ever cared for justification. Creatures who destroyed lives on a whim, for mere curiosity.
I just sneered.
Besides, this wasn't mere venting.
It was a test.
A test for these sinister elves appearing on the kingdom's border at this precise moment.
Tug.
Gunnu tugged my sleeve. She quietly shook her head.
I released the sword hilt.
I also withdrew the aura I'd spread everywhere.
The High Elf eyed me discontentedly.
Unlike the other pale-faced elves, his expression was relatively serene.
A fitting strength for a High Elf born to exalted presence.
"How old are you?"
I asked the man his age.
"Our clan's time differs from humans'."
"So how old?"
"I may appear Your Highness's age, but I've lived several times your lifespan—enough to repeat it sevenfold."
A flicker of disdain crossed his eyes, then vanished.
It was a familiar sentiment.
For High Elves, where age meant status and power, how insignificant must humans seem?
But it went both ways.
"Roughly a hundred and fifty, then."
To my eyes, honed since the Great War era, he was little more than a newborn.