Chapter 56
Chapter 56
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 56
Chapter Title: 19. No Brother Like the Elder (2)
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Monsters were snarling viciously beneath the walls.
Maximilian instinctively turned away from their yellow eyes gleaming with malice and murderous intent.
The walls came into view.
"Fire! Keep firing!"
He spotted Winter Castle's commander bellowing encouragement to the soldiers. The troops were hacking relentlessly with axes to sever the grappling hooks.
"Don't let a single one climb the walls!"
A knight shouted. A sword caked in filthy flesh and blood caught his eye.
The stench of monsters, the reek of blood, the greasy smell of boiling oil, and the sweat of the men—it all choked Maximilian's breath.
His head spun.
A strange aroma within the mix made his head reel even more.
Thud.
Someone grabbed his shoulder then. A throwing axe whizzed past his face with a sharp whoosh.
"Don't stand there gawking against the wall."
The 1st Prince—his one and only brother—clicked his tongue.
Hearing that calm voice, so out of place amid the clash of life and death, settled Maximilian's turmoil. It was like his blocked airways suddenly cleared, as if by magic.
"A guy in flashy armor makes the top priority target."
At his words, Maximilian glanced down at himself, then scanned the surroundings. Amid rangers clad in drab leather armor draped with furs, he alone gleamed in golden plate.
"Thank you..."
"If you die, the orcs' morale shoots up. Pumped-up orcs get even more tenacious."
He'd thought it was concern. It wasn't. His brother was saying he was in the way.
His face burned. Maximilian ducked his head to hide it. But that lasted only a moment.
He gripped his sword and lifted his gaze again.
He'd been momentarily dazed facing monsters for the first time, but now he meant to snap to and fight.
"Sir Erhim!"
"Yes, Your Highness!"
Erhim Kiringer's voice rang out right beside him—he must have approached unnoticed. He'd been watching from the start, knowing exactly what the prince wanted.
At Erhim's gesture, soldiers and knights waiting below the walls began ascending the stairs.
But before they could fully climb, someone shouted.
"Don't come up! You'll clog the flow!"
It was the 1st Prince.
"Stay below and hold position!"
Maximilian looked around.
The walls were chaos. Calling up too many troops at once clearly wasn't ideal.
He sent the soldiers back down and summoned only select knights.
Then he had them assist the soldiers.
The Iron Lion Knights, disguised as mercenaries, drew their blades and scattered in all directions.
"It's been a while, Your Highness!"
"You look radiant!"
Iron Lions passing by called out cheerfully as they went.
"What are you guys doing here..."
"Heard hands were short, so we came to lend some!"
The 1st Prince stared at them, dumbfounded.
"Catch you later!"
"Good luck!"
The Iron Lions chuckled, tossing quips as they brushed past the 1st Prince.
"Lady Arwen, long time no see!"
A female knight busy dispatching orcs scaling the walls widened her eyes at the man who'd butted in.
"Sir Dunham?"
"Still as fierce as ever. Whew."
The man split an orc's skull with his axe and grinned.
"Talk later."
He severed a grappling hook. An orc nearly at the top clung desperately to the wall. The man crushed its fingers.
"Kreeeek!"
The orc wailed pitifully as it plummeted.
Maximilian watched quietly as the Iron Lions took positions across the walls. Their involvement turned the tide instantly.
Rangers, frantic with swordplay and arrows, sheathed blades and nocked bows again.
"Fire!"
At the timed commander's roar, the rangers loosed a volley.
Arrows rained down, felling orcs in droves amid the chaos. But the base of the walls still swarmed with them.
No counting their numbers.
"Roughly a thousand, I'd say."
Yet Erhim Kiringer claimed it was just a thousand. If a thousand was this much, what would eighteen thousand be like?
Maximilian was utterly overwhelmed.
Still, his hands moved busily. He batted away a javelin aimed at a bow-firing ranger, severed a hook at the wall's edge, and booted an orc peeking over.
He fought frantically like that for a while. Then something felt off.
"Winter Castle knights are assembling at the gate!"
Erhim shouted. Maximilian glanced below instinctively.
Orcs still teemed there.
He looked inward.
There were Winter Castle's knights, swords and spears at ready, breaths heaving, eyes alight with resolve. The 1st Prince led them. How had he gone that far down so fast, when he'd been slashing right beside moments ago? It made no sense.
But that wasn't the point now.
"No way..."
They looked ready to charge out the gate.
He trusted it wouldn't happen.
Orcs packed the outside. Thirty-odd knights wouldn't plunge into that.
His trust was misplaced.
"Open the gates!"
A resonant roar echoed, followed by the heavy grind of chains lifting the portcullis.
Krrrrrind.
Orcs below surged toward the gate, howling.
Grrraaah!
Kraaaah!
Their eyes rolled back in frenzy.
Through the din came a low voice.
So soft, a mere whisper—yet sharper than any noise, piercing the ears.
"Snow-capped mountains, frozen valleys, blood-soaked walls stand silent."
It was the rangers' military song from the road to Winter Castle. The difference: no mangled tune, just spoken words.
Out of nowhere.
"Only the dawn's advance horn echoes wide."
Right after that absurd voice, Winter Castle's air heated unnaturally.
Hummm.
Morale surged skyward, almost audible.
Rangers' harsh breaths steamed hot. Their eyes blazed.
"Snow-capped mountains, frozen valleys, blood-soaked walls stand silent!"
"Only the dawn's advance horn echoes wide!"
Suddenly, knights bellowed the words in chorus.
Vrrrummm.
Then Maximilian felt the rings' mana roil wildly.
"Your Highness! Circulate your energy—protect yourself!"
Erhim Kiringer screamed.
Maximilian gathered his energy to resist the sudden anomaly, as did the Iron Lions, halting combat to retreat and calm the surging mana.
What was this?
Orcs had shamans casting bizarre spells— was this it? Or something afflicting Winter Castle? Thoughts raced.
Suddenly rangers sang, their rough tune resounding across the walls.
That instant, a mighty roar erupted below.
"Charge!"
He saw his brother, the 1st Prince, dashing forward, blue flames coiling at his sword tip.
Flame-like aura unlike any he'd seen, golden light flashing beside it, knights' sword auras glowing azure.
Kreeeek!
Kraaak!
Orcs clustered at the gate screamed skyward. Their olive-green bodies flew surrealistically.
Winter Castle knights pierced the gap. Wedge formation sharp as a spearhead, slicing the green wave.
Orcs with limbs severed, engulfed in blue flames, toppled. Knights trampled corpses, advancing.
Orcs screamed. Knights roared.
"Ah..."
Maximilian stared blankly.
At the fore, a boy madly carving through orcs.
"My God..."
Nobles in the capital dismissed his uncle's triumphs, scoffed he'd never slain even a goblin, deemed him a useless brute—yet here his wastrel brother led knights crushing foes.
Chills ran down Maximilian's spine.
Was it awe at Winter Castle knights cleaving the green tide? Or revelation of his brother's hidden prowess? He couldn't tell.
One thing clear: impossible events unfolded before him.
Nearly a thousand orcs routed by valiant knights, fleeing in screams.
His jaw dropped at thirty knights' feat.
Orcs below hesitated, then fled. Rangers sang the march, loosing arrows. A hail slaughtered the runners.
Infantry poured from the open gate—heavy-armored with shields, unlike rangers.
A hundred followed the knights. Knights spread wide, massacring orcs wildly.
"Your Highness..."
Erhim Kiringer approached.
Seeing the knight half-dazed, Maximilian touched his own face.
Mine looks like that too, probably.
He forced his stiff face to relax, steadied his trembling voice.
"Us too."
He glanced outside. Winter Castle troops drove back the green wave.
"We go out."
Blood boiled. Then cold water doused it.
"Impossible."
Erhim Kiringer said.
Wall-fighting knights were spent; charging out now was reckless.
Maximilian looked around.
"Ah..."
Erhim spoke true.
Iron Lions on the walls heaved, shoulders slumped. Seeing them exhausted so soon sparked doubt.
Why?
What set Winter Castle knights—first and fiercest fighters— so vibrant apart from Iron Lions?
He bit his lip, gazing out.
Knights and heavy infantry hunted scattered orcs.
Battle ended.
"We won!"
The 1st Prince thrust the bloodied banner high, eyes fixed on his brother.
Eye contact. Brother grinned. But the younger could neither laugh nor cry—just stared blankly at his sibling amid the corpse field.
Others were more shocked.
"What the..."
Silver Fox mercenaries gaped at the scene beyond the open gate.
Thud-thud.
Battle over, yet hearts raced madly. A youth returned like a triumphant general, orc banner over his shoulder.
Grin.
The boy smiled—straight at the elite Silver Foxes.
He whispered to a soldier. The man nodded, ran to the Foxes.
"His Highness the 1st Prince says:"
The soldier intoned gravely, like royal decree.
"Meet after battlefield cleanup."
No refusal brooked; the captain just nodded.
"Vincent! I win! Nineteen now!"
"I've got twenty-six, so still far off!"
The boy—the 1st Prince and Winter Castle heir—bickered with Vincent.
"Legion banners count as ten each at least! That's twenty-eight for me!"
"Then I've got one legion banner too—thirty-five!"
The pair raised voices over nonsense, like immature boys. Ignoring blood and gore coating them.
"This is nothing like the rumors."
The Silver Fox captain said.
"They said he couldn't hold a candle to his brother."
At the admiring words, Silver Foxes glanced up. The 2nd Prince watched his brother with a complicated expression.