Chapter 72
Chapter 72
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 72
Chapter Title: What You've Lost, What You've Forgotten (3)
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"Fire!"
The eldest son of the Ilai Count family bellowed at the top of his lungs.
The nobles turned their heads. The officers who received their gazes shook their heads.
"They're out of range."
At those words, the nobles clicked their tongues.
Exhausted horses, riders who had lost their composure, pursuers hot on their heels.
The Ilai group charging toward them while screaming looked precarious.
"The Ilai family has some ties to our Branburt family, even if not deep ones. That's more than enough to cover the cost of a few arrows on their behalf."
One of the great lords watching the scene gestured. On the hill above, a few flags emblazoned with black hawks rose and fell repeatedly.
Thud, thud.
Archers stepped forward from among the heavy infantry.
Black hawk tunics, longbows that looked at least 1.8 meters long.
"It's the Iron Hawks!"
Someone shouted upon recognizing the famed marksmen of the Branburt family.
The Iron Hawk archers lined up facing the river.
"Target the enemy vanguard! Suppressive fire!"
The archers drew their bowstrings, leaning their torsos back as far as they could.
"Loose!"
The twang of bowstrings was one thing, but the arrows filling the sky numbered two hundred.
The arrows loosed all at once by the Iron Hawk archers rained down upon the orcs, crossing the river.
Kraaaagh!
The orcs charging ferociously tumbled to the ground after being struck by arrows. The orcs following behind leaped over their fallen kin.
Swish, swish.
Another volley of arrows descended upon them. The front-line orcs toppled, and those behind tripped over the fallen ones.
In the brief gap that opened, the Ilai group shot past the bridge like lightning.
"Wha—what?"
The eldest son of the Ilai family and his group, who had crossed the bridge, showed no sign of slowing. The front-line infantry, taken aback, hurriedly parted to either side, making way amid the clamor.
"Th-th-those guys!"
The nobles pointed fingers.
But the Ilai heir paid them no mind and charged straight toward the hill where the command flags fluttered.
"Bernard Ilai of the Ilai family! I've come with news from the north!"
Bernard leaped down from his horse and shouted, gasping for breath.
"News from the north..."
"Many of the northern lords, leading their forces southward, encountered orcs and were annihilated! The lords themselves perished alongside their soldiers!"
At his words, the nobles let out groans.
They too had ears and had heard reports of the north through the refugees. Among them were rumors about lords, including the Giern Count family.
To put it nicely, they had marched south with their forces, but bluntly speaking, they had abandoned their territories and fled. And they had botched even that escape, dying to the last man—truly pathetic.
"Currently, the Shurtol, Iaton, Cardein, and Barheim families are gathering survivors and holding out, but the situation is dire!"
But now was not the time to dwell on the northern lords' disgraceful deaths. Bernard Ilai continued pouring out updates on the northern front.
Where they had been defeated, how many soldiers had died.
Whose families had perished, which castles had fallen.
Not a single piece of good news among them.
"Hah. Far more惨 than the rumors suggested."
The nobles groaned.
Even while encamped here, they had assumed the northern lords would hold out to some degree. Even rotten, they were still pilchards—none of their families lacked fame from past wars against monsters.
Yet Winter Castle had fallen, and not even a month later, twelve of sixteen large and small territories had been trampled by orcs. The once-mighty lords were all dead, leaving only four. The nobles' faces hardened.
A sense of crisis that hadn't appeared even before the masses of refugees.
Faces as if realizing for the first time that they themselves could die.
It was inevitable.
The kingdom had fought no few wars against the Empire in the past. They had won centuries ago, suffered a crushing defeat 120 years prior.
And in no case had nobles died in such numbers.
Except in very special circumstances, most were captured as prisoners and later ransomed free.
It was an unspoken convention transcending enmity, a standard transaction.
But the rules they trusted were worthless against monsters. Human conventions held no value for beasts that didn't even speak their language.
The slaughtered northern lords were proof.
Not even their bodies had been found. Probably ended up in orc bellies.
The nobles broke out in cold sweats.
It felt like being tossed naked onto a wind-swept plain after sleeping in luxurious golden beds.
While they stood dazed, Bernard Ilai exchanged a glance with the 2nd Prince.
A nod.
Maximilian gave a small nod in return.
He knew full well that his brother's knights had been luring the orcs from the start, scurrying about. And that much of what Bernard said was fabricated.
The lords' deaths were real, but not by orcs—by his brother.
Many had indeed perished, but much of the process was invented.
The surviving lords weren't fighting back. They were hiding somewhere in the south, waiting out the orcs.
And he was the one creating that opportunity.
"As you've heard, the orcs show no mercy and are cruel. Ferocious and tough to boot."
Maximilian spoke with feigned lament.
"If this line breaks, the central region will suffer the north's fate."
Groans arose here and there.
"The orcs are retreating!"
Just then, an officer's voice rang out.
The nobles, their faces rigid as stone, turned their gazes forward.
Dozens of orc corpses littered the bridge.
Having endured concentrated archery, they resembled hedgehogs. The problem was their positions.
Most of the dozens hadn't crossed half the bridge before dying. But a few larger corpses had nearly succeeded.
The nobles murmured uneasily.
The renowned Iron Hawk archers of the central region had stepped up, and once the orcs entered range, other archer units had fired as well.
Even with archers comprising a tenth of the total force unleashing arrows in earnest, they'd struggled to stop the orcs crossing the bridge.
The nobles looked across the river.
Beyond arrow range, on the vast plain, countless orcs swarmed. The savage beasts tearing into and devouring their kin were utterly horrifying.
Unease rippled through the soldiers.
A wind blew from across the river. The nobles shivered. A chill seeped through their thick furs.
"Tonight's going to be a long one."
The nobles unwittingly nodded at someone's words.
**
As that someone said, the night was long.
Long for the sentries along the riverbank, and for the nobles reclining in their lavish tents.
A nightmarish night.
But the true nightmare was only beginning.
"They've increased even more overnight."
At dawn's dim light, orcs were visible across the river. Their numbers had grown since the previous day.
"They said ten thousand, but even at a glance, it looks double that."
Someone voiced doubt in a pale tone.
"More than expected, but not that much. Probably they just look more numerous because orcs are so huge."
At the commander's words, the nobles fell silent.
It felt like he was asking if they weren't just seeing more enemies out of fear.
It was true.
The dark green hulks were particularly intimidating. Just meeting the gaze of distant orcs sent involuntary shivers down the spine.
If the nobles at the rear hill headquarters felt this way, the terror gripping soldiers right before the bridge was beyond words.
The heavy infantry of a great lord who had boasted of them cowered, fiddling only with their shields. Nearby spearmen kept glancing back.
"Get it together! The bridge can't hold that many enemies at once anyway!"
"Our Iron Chain Knights will stand before you!"
Only the knights, who had honed their swords lifelong, kept their wits. But there were merely four hundred.
Numbers that had seemed ample yesterday now looked scant—a reflection of the nobles' anxiety.
"Tch."
The old knight, who had silently observed the nobles and soldiers until now, stepped forward.
Now one of the four Silver Lions, acclaimed as the kingdom's greatest swordmaster—surpassing even the fallen lord of Winter Castle in skill—Earl Richter Lichtain.
Swish.
The veteran swordsman drew his blade.
He cloaked it in aura blade. That brilliant light, qualitatively beyond sword aura, dispelled the dawn's gloom.
The overwhelming presence and battle intent of the Silver Lion radiated outward.
The soldiers jolted, trembling as if awakened from a nightmare.
The old knight sheathed his sword again, withdrawing quietly. As if his duty ended there.
Thanks to the Silver Lion, the soldiers' unrest was quelled. But those stimulated by his aura weren't just allies.
The orcs breathed raggedly.
Grooooarrr!
A particularly massive orc in the front line bellowed.
Thud, thud.
The orc ranks stirred. New orcs pushed through the front line.
Orcs clutching slender long shields that seemed cute compared to their bulk.
"Ah..."
The nobles who saw them widened their eyes.
Familiar crests adorned the orcs' shields.
"That's the Giern family's eye-deer crest."
"And the Winterwolf family's wolf crest."
They were symbols of northern families.
Over ten types jumbled chaotically at a glance—a vivid tableau of the north's fall.
Grooooarrr!
The massive orc roared again.
The shields thrust forward by the orcs shook.
Thud.
A simultaneous stomping echoed.
"They're coming!"
One officer screamed.
Rumble rumble rumble.
The orcs charged with earth-shaking roars.
"Loose!"
At an officer's frantic shout, the archers fired in unison.
A thousand arrows poured down onto the plain across the river.
Kragh!
Orcs screamed and fell. But few in number.
Shield-bearing orcs barreled forward like enraged bulls.
Arrows flew again. Unlucky orcs screamed their last, far more raced toward the bridge.
The orc vanguard finally entered the bridge.
"Iron Hawks, snipe the orcs at your discretion!"
At the officer's order, the Iron Hawk marksmen loosed arrows at vital spots exposed below the shields. Orcs on the bridge fell in droves.
The Iron Hawks fired arrows so fast their hands blurred.
Orcs dropped like flies.
But there were too many orcs, and only the Iron Hawks could precisely target vitals through tough muscles. Even then, arrows to vitals didn't kill instantly.
Most shrugged off a few arrows easily.
Tougher than the orcs seen yesterday—by far.
"Those are orc warriors!"
The 2nd Prince revealed their identity.
And in that moment, orc warriors that endured even the Iron Hawks' sniping emerged from the bridge.
"Rose Thorn Infantry!"
"Ha!"
The heavy infantry thrust shields forward, stomping. Shoulders to shields, feet spread wide.
"Hold!"
"Ha!"
Behind them, spear-wielding soldiers readied to thrust at any moment.
But they got no chance.
Bam!
Heavy infantry colliding with orc warriors were crushed shield and all. Those pinned under shields screamed.
Grrr rumble.
The orc warriors growled low.
Trampling the crushed infantry and shields.
"Uh, uh..."
A spearman collapsed, mumbling dumbly.