The Price of Victory – The Knight's Final Farewell
The battle at Peale Castle ended with devastating losses for the Rotinzel army.
Over one hundred knights and more than ten thousand soldiers had fallen.
The Rotinzel forces, already reeling from heavy casualties, were forced to withdraw without capturing the fortress.
This was the first time their army had suffered such losses in the entire Rotinzel-Bluisoll war.
The naval defeat from earlier was easy to dismiss as irrelevant.
The army’s only previous defeat had been the one where Nicolas Wisteria perished, and while the loss of their commander was painful, the manpower loss there had been minimal.
That was why the Rotinzel army, which had been riding high until now, had completely lost its momentum.
The soldiers of Peale Castle had achieved the impossible: turning absolute disadvantage into retreat for an enemy ten times their number.
Yet the joy of victory was short-lived.
The soldiers could not truly rejoice.
They had lost the most noble nobleman anyone could ever hope to meet.
On the final day of the Peale siege, the rain that had begun to fall continued through the next day.
The downpour washed the bloodstains from the battlements clean.
Only after the burning heat subsided could people look around with some relief.
During the fighting they had been too busy confronting the enemy in front of them to notice the ones beside them.
For a brief moment they savored the taste of victory, then Peale Castle slipped into deep sorrow.
It was not uncommon for friends facing each other to kill each other, or neighbors who had lived together in the same village to fall.
At Peale Castle they held a mourning period for the dead.
They gathered the bodies, took care of them, and handed them over to the families.
Those who had lost fathers, sons, or husbands trembled as they wept.
Even the men who had boasted they would never cry, calling it weak to show tears, secretly wiped their eyes from behind.
Death is always measured by how many it takes, not by its single cost.
The death of Laurent Hortfrei Peale struck a heavy blow to everyone who had followed him.
A single bullet. That tiny piece of metal stripping away a life was absurd.
Some who had doubted the existence of weak, fragile humans now felt their convictions shaken.
The priest of the temple in Peale Castle conducted the funeral rites.
The person Laurent had loved most, Nina, could not attend.
Because she was close to giving birth, Laurent had never even told her he was going to war.
There had been heated discussion about whether to send the news to her.
Some said it was too cruel to withhold the message of her husband’s death even from the family.
But the body could not be left here, and sending it to Korthart was impossible, so they decided to hold the funeral first.
Nina might resent them later for the decision, but for now it was the kinder choice.
The empty place of the family was filled by Jeanne’s knights.
The body inside the coffin looked as if it were peacefully sleeping.
After the priest’s prayer for the repose of the dead, the lid was closed and the coffin buried in the earth.
The young lord, not yet thirty, had now lived his full life.
*I won’t worry. I will protect what you wanted to protect.*
Jeanne murmured with a heavy heart.
While the funeral and mourning continued, the castle was like a sea of tears.
Laurent had been loved and respected by many.
He had looked carefree at times, chasing after his own romantic dreams, but he had still been a good lord to his subjects.
“Rest in peace, Laurent.”
Jeanne looked up at the sky and offered her final farewell.
When the funeral was over, everyone returned to their daily lives.
The castle administration would be handled by Jeanne for the time being.
Although the young heir was still too young to know what would become of the lordship, Jeanne did her best.
She repaired the damaged walls and tidied up the affairs inside the castle.
It looked as if everything had returned to the perfect state it had been before the war.
The only difference was that she worked from her own old quarters instead of Laurent’s former room.
There was a frame of the family and memories woven into that space; it felt wrong to simply enter without permission.
Jeanne felt gratitude toward Fabian for the first time in a while.
Deva handled the mountain of documents with flawless skill.
Deva’s greatest talent was not merely scholarship or diplomacy, but governance.
While staring at the documents for a long time, Jeanne suddenly felt dizzy and staggered.
Fabian quickly caught her.
In that moment Deva stepped forward.
“Are you all right?”
“Ah, I’m just a little tired.”
People often said that a knight’s body was stronger than steel.
Their endurance was so great that a knight rarely tired from ordinary things.
Yet Jeanne had fought non-stop for a week and then worked days without rest.
She had fallen asleep at dawn and woken up before the night was over; it was no wonder even a knight would tire.
“I’ll take the rest. Please rest a little.”
“Then I’ll leave it to you.”
Jeanne, who would usually have insisted she would do it herself, handed the work to Deva.
Deva began organizing the documents Jeanne had been reading.
Through his movements Jeanne’s voice reached him.
“I came here to save Laurent. But in the end I couldn’t stop his death.”
It was not addressed to anyone; it was simply a sigh of despair.
Deva looked back at her.
Only then did he realize that Jeanne’s weakness was not simply from exhaustion.
Jeanne was showing such vulnerability because her heart had become weak.
“It is not Her Highness’s fault.”
“No. It is my fault. If I hadn’t known, I wouldn’t have known. But knowing and still letting it happen is my fault.”
Knowing the future was an enormous advantage.
By acting before others, one could prevent things that would happen and create things that would not.
It was the privilege of those who had regressed to the past.
But since Jeanne had known Laurent would die in this war and still could not stop it, she felt she was powerless.
“I can’t even protect my own people. What kind of saint, what kind of savior am I.”
In addition to Laurent, two knights from the Second Knight Order had also fallen.
Death in war was always right beside you.
Deva had said before that no one could end the war without dying.
He knew it with his head, but knowing was different from accepting it with his heart.
In such a situation, words of comfort were useless, so Deva stayed silent.
The wind was blowing; maybe she would feel better if she stepped outside.
Jeanne left the office and climbed to the battlements.
The sky, which had been as clear as if someone had lied about recent rain, stretched endlessly.
Looking up at the sky, Jeanne spoke in a desolate voice.
“I want to be alone.”
Fabian quietly stepped back.
After staring at the sky for a long time, Jeanne took Rosary from her pocket and gently examined it.
The red jewel at its center shone brighter than usual.
Was that mysterious power she had felt during the fight with Heirach, and the instantaneous healing of her wounds, all the power of Rosary?
It was hard to believe this ordinary-looking accessory contained such astonishing power.
*Power obtained at the cost of one’s lifespan.*
Deva had warned her many times not to use it, saying it was too dangerous.
But Jeanne’s thoughts were different.
If using that power could reduce sacrifices, her own lifespan was not too precious.
*If I can trade my time for another’s life, is that not a divine relic?*
Jeanne gripped Rosary tightly.
***
The battle at Peale Castle spread quickly across the land.
Even in the Rotinzel imperial palace, news of the defeat arrived just a few days after the war had ended.
“A defeat. So that’s how it was.”
Edward II had been expected to fly into a rage upon hearing the news, but he remained surprisingly calm.
His long-serving ministers, however, were on edge, unsure when the storm would break.
Sometimes the calm before a storm was even more frightening.
“Summon Aaron Occident to the homeland.”
Edward II summoned Aaron to question him about the defeat.
More than ten thousand soldiers and over a hundred knights had been lost in one place.
To Edward, who hated incompetence, the crime Aaron had committed was enough to have his head cut off and his family dragged along as well.
The ministers exchanged wary glances.
No one dared oppose the emperor.
But at that moment one minister spoke cautiously.
“Your Majesty, it would be difficult to summon him immediately.”
The emperor’s gaze fell on the minister.
The man who had walked paths stained with the blood of his own brothers had eyes fiercer than a beast’s, yet he spoke his opinion steadily.
“The war is not yet over. With Nicolas Wisteria gone, who will lead the remaining forces? Heirach, with little experience, will not be enough.”
The emperor’s eyes showed interest at the minister who had spoken up.
He was a tyrant, but his gaze was sharp.
A minister who dared to contradict him was bold, and that boldness pleased Edward.
“Send a capable general from the homeland first, then summon Aaron.”
“Very well. Do as you say. Write the imperial decree to be sent to Aaron yourself.”
Together with the command to hold onto the captured capital of Roire, a letter containing Edward’s will headed toward Bluisoll.
***
King Philippe VII returned to Ileane.
Jeanne had also planned to finish the cleanup at Peale Castle and return to Ileane.
Before leaving, she met with mercenary captain Yannis and made her proposal.
“I’ve heard a lot about you, Yannis.”
“I am not a knight, so I cannot receive the title of lord.”
“Then Yannis. Are you not thinking of becoming a knight?”
Yannis’s position on joining the regular army was clear.
“I’m sorry, but I prefer to stay as a mercenary as I am now.”
Deva interjected in the middle of the conversation.
“Private armies without royal approval can cause serious legal problems. In fact, it is not even the legality but the fact that they would irritate the king’s eyes. If His Highness were to point it out, it would be too easy to label them as traitors or rebels.”
Deva gave Yannis advice full of concern.
“I know. But having someone under the king is even less to my liking.”
Yannis, who hated King Philippe VII, responded coldly.
Jeanne gave up on persuading him.
Such a man would not yield even if a knife were placed at his throat.
Just as they were about to depart, Ethan approached carefully and spoke to Jeanne.
“There is somewhere I must visit before going to Ileane. May I move separately?”
“What is it?”
“I need to go to Korthart for a while.”
“Why there?”
“The family of Laurent is there.”
“Ah.”
Jeanne let out a sigh.
If that was the reason, she could not refuse.
Ethan left with a box containing a bundle of Laurent’s letters and headed toward Korthart.