Chapter 22
Chapter 22
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 022
Chapter Title: Who Is the Protagonist? (2)
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As dawn began to break, Karl Bailyner spoke up.
"Sunset and sunrise do look alike."
He didn't add anything about how they dyed the world in red or inspired awe in those who beheld them.
"But what comes after is different, isn't it? Whether the world falls into darkness or brightens up."
"A wise observation indeed."
Brad expressed his embarrassment by furrowing his brow in silence.
"After thirty years together, we're still so distant."
"What good would getting any closer do?"
"......"
It was Brad who fell silent for a moment and then spoke again.
"Fair enough."
Over the years, how many times had they staked their lives on each other? If there was no betrayal involved, the trust they shared now was more than enough.
"I misspoke. You and I are already family."
"Isn't the Commander's family back in the capital?"
Karl Bailyner was as dry as ever, and in that regard, Brad was no different. In the early morning hush where even the crickets had tired and fallen silent, time dragged on slowly.
Soon, footsteps approached, and Nil Carpenter appeared.
"Yawn. You're up early. Should I wake the men?"
"No need. The sun's still a ways off from rising."
"Is it now?"
Nil glanced toward the east and settled by the fire. Around then, another presence made itself known.
"Kahk, ptui. Chilly in the dawn, huh."
"Tsk tsk tsk, and you're supposed to be an adjutant."
"It's not work hours yet. A little privacy, if you please."
Nil Carpenter and Hal Frederick kicked off the day with their usual bickering.
"Enough. We're in the middle of operations. I'd appreciate it if you kept personal friendships in check."
"Ah, sorry."
"Ahem."
"What's the situation since we set out?"
The first company, which had evacuated refugees with the alliance, had returned yesterday. They'd collapsed into sleep right after dinner, even skipping their watch.
"The Native Alliance's numbers keep growing. But their forces are still holding steady around seven hundred."
"Not bad."
Brad stroked his beard.
"The south is secure, and seven hundred is a number we can control."
Nil yawned soundlessly for a moment before continuing.
"Westguard Fortress is a madhouse day and night with refugees and spoils of war. Apparently, some of the evacuees are starting to praise the young lord."
"Source?"
"Instructor Harrig."
He had the trust of Westguard's natives, so his credibility was solid.
"Interesting. Sounds like he's grown up a bit."
"Yeah. Pretty impressive."
"So he's finally pulling his weight."
Nil scowled and crossed his arms.
"Still, thinking of the ones who died in his place, it's nowhere near enough. He needs to claim the family head's seat at least."
"Nil, I never pegged you for the ambitious type. Already scheming to latch onto him?"
Hal Frederick narrowed his eyes.
"Come on, you all know that's not it."
"What I'm saying is there's no need to rush."
"No, he's right. Better to side with whoever lets us take credit."
Brad's interjection drew gasps of shock from those around him.
"......Gasp!"
"C-Commander."
"I never thought you'd say something like that, sir."
"I merely stated what I believe to be right."
Adjutant Hal Frederick shook his head vigorously.
"You opposed the young lord—the Third Young Master, didn't you? You spent a month in Noxen Prison for it, and Vice Commander Bolt fell in battle."
"Did you think I'd be consumed by grudge?"
"Of course I don't think you're that petty, sir."
"What I pursue is righteousness."
The pre-dawn darkness was quiet and still. Brad's low voice carried over the crackling fire.
"I learned survival before loyalty. I was elevated in Brennenton's name and devoted my life to the family's interests. That's who I am."
"You've done it all for Westguard."
"Because Westguard is Brennenton."
Words spoken must be honored. With that, Knight Brad Cahill sorted through his tangled emotions.
"No need to feel slighted. This is just about pursuing our interests."
"Tricky. I thought I knew you after all these years."
"We're old friends."
"I thought so too. But I never truly understood your intentions."
Brad shook his head.
"What matters is that we're together until the end."
"That's easy. We'll protect each other until death."
"......"
Crackle, crackle.
Karl tossed the last log onto the dying campfire.
The flames, which had faltered for a moment, roared back to life. With the warmth it brought, the eastern sky began to brighten.
"Then I'll go check on the men."
"I'll get breakfast ready."
The two rose, leaving the other pair behind.
"They've probably reached the Camini River by now. Maybe even paid respects at the graves."
"It's half a day's ride. Aren't we the ones running late?"
"They'll camp for a bit, won't they? Rallying their followers and regaining confidence. As long as supplies hold out, that is."
Karl nodded.
"Fair point. That's impressive enough. He's still just a kid."
"Time to rise. Let's wash up and grab some food."
"Yes, sir. Let's go."
Karl stamped out the embers with his boot.
"Ah, good morning."
As soldiers emerged from their tents to greet them, Brad raised a hand in response.
The savory smell of soup boiling by the river mingled with the sight of soldiers lined up after washing, waiting for their rations. It was the most peaceful scene amid the harshest conditions.
The gently flowing river sparkled silver.
A group of cavalry thundered along the riverbank.
Thud thud thud thud.
Reindeer by the water bolted in fright, scattering the wolf pack that had been stalking them from afar. Hooves churned the earth in their wake.
"Haa! Haa!"
"My lord. Slow down."
Rayner, riding alongside, shouted hoarsely.
"How far from the main force?"
"Half a day's ride. Any further is dangerous."
Rayner held his tongue rather than press further. A knight existed to carry out his lord's will, not instruct him.
Clop, clop.
Thankfully, Arun eased his pace.
"If it's alright, we'll follow the riverbank at a walk."
"Do it."
Neigh.
Arun stroked his exhausted mount to calm it. His pale face suggested he was just as worn out.
'I knew the disasters caused by incompetent commanders all too well. Yet why did I have to experience it myself to understand? What sin did the soldiers who paid the price commit?'
Consecutive victories and the refugees' praise had rebuilt his shattered pride. Only then could he face his failures squarely.
'How foolish to flaunt book knowledge. How vulgar to lead with posturing in debates.'
He had committed all those sins.
Saving more lives was the only way to assuage his guilt. Yet he knew full well that life wasn't something to be bartered equally.
Snort, whinny.
His horse's saliva stretched long, splattering Arun's cheek.
"Not again."
Realizing he'd nearly trapped himself in his self-made world once more, he loosened the reins. The abyss lurked both within and without.
Clop, clop.
He slowly brought his horse to a halt. The accompanying knights followed suit, forming a circle around him.
Whinny.
"Whoa, whoa. Good work. Rest easy."
"Huff, huff. Shall we rest here, my lord?"
"No."
As Arun dismounted, his Royal Guard Knights and squires did the same.
"The abyss is near. Will you follow?"
"Gladly, if it's your command."
Rayner placed a fist over his heart in salute. The other knights and squires hurriedly followed suit.
"We'll go anywhere with you."
"To the end."
"Good. Back to where the threads tangle. We'll start again there."
Arun gripped the reins and stepped forward.
His grimy, sweat-soaked retinue trailed behind. The frosty-maned horses whinnied by the flowing river, but Arun pressed on like a monk on a pilgrimage, eyes fixed ahead.
The footsteps of Rayner and the escort knights grew heavy.
'This isn't just the lord's burden.'
They said only humans among all creatures recognized original sin and repented. Once the fellow knights vaguely guessed the destination, none complained of the hardship. The squires followed the mood.
Their lord's back seemed broader than ever today.
Those walking along the riverbank soon reached the confluence with a larger stream.
"The Camini River."
"Yes. The memories are sharpening."
"That frantic retreat... Ah! My apologies."
"......"
Colleagues' glares converged on Drain, who had caused the awkwardness.
Arun scanned the surroundings.
"......That forest."
"Yes. That's my memory too."
"Good. Neither you nor I have forgotten."
He picked something up from the ground. It looked like part of a shin guard or arm bracer, pieced from animal bones.
"More accurately, we couldn't forget. Let's go."
"We'll follow."
They entered the forest slowly, drawn toward a clearing.
The flat expanse, ringed by towering trees, was half natural, half shaped by human hands.
Sunlight filtered through the rounded canopy, contrasting the dark woods. In the center stood a grave—the pain of the past, also an obelisk.
The stone mound, over twice man-height, was crude yet imposing, dominating the surroundings. Sunbeams flickering through the leaves with the breeze lent a sacred air.
"Matches Sir Brad's report."
"He always tells the truth."
"But he was rude. For you to blame yourself..."
"Truth isn't rude. Didn't we pay dearly to learn that?"
He'd learned truth was more bitter than potions, colder than ice. But learning it didn't convey its full weight.
"So, friends, let's not forget that day's lesson."
"......"
Arun approached the grave.
Withered flowers and a modest epitaph greeted him.
"At the world's end, we saw those who gave their all to duty. While cowards hesitated, they ensured their lord's safe retreat and perished. What is chivalry if not this? Here, late with regret, I honor forty-nine heroes with these flowers. March 17, Year 67 Imperial Calendar. Y.K."
He read the epitaph aloud with a sigh.
"My lord, here."
Drain offered a bouquet of wildflowers.
Someone proffered medicinal spirits; another set down jerky.
And they observed silence. That was all.
The sudden human presence brought birdsong and cricket chirps back to the quiet forest. The scene was serene.
It wasn't just the woods that found peace.
Arun and the others' faces brightened too. Though exhausted from the forced march, caked in sweat and dirt, they moved lighter, as if unburdened packs.
They pulled weeds by hand and gathered stray stones.
"My lord, we'll do it. Or we can call up the infantry when they arrive."
"If it must be done, it falls to you and me. They say pilgrimage is for the living, after all."
"......I agree."
Even Rayner Cus, the stickler for rules, sounded choked.
Repentance wouldn't revive the dead. Sacrificing life wouldn't erase original sin; they must atone through devotion to the world until hell claimed them.
After tidying the gravesite, the main force arrived.
The soldiers, shedding their rookie shells, paid respects to the long-heard-of cemetery and were moved by the epitaph.
They camped.
"From now on, divide the men and time into quarters."
"Three hours on duty, nine hours rest, no exceptions. Draw up the roster."
The veterans earning their pay handled platoon leader duties capably.
Some stood watch, some washed horses by the river, some cooked. They rotated sleep.
Arun, finishing the first watch, headed to his tent.
"Good work, sir."
"You too. The men's discipline was sharp."
"Really?"
Havent, wrapping up his shift, nodded.
"Visiting the grave did it. They feel grown."
"Good."
Standing before his tent, he closed his eyes in prayer.
'Fallen soldiers, until I prostrate myself begging forgiveness, be the lantern lighting our path.'
Of course, self-reliance mattered more than prayers. Regained confidence made all smooth.
"See you tomorrow."
"Rest well."
Soon, the tent lights went out.
That night, some slept repenting errors, some prayed for old comrades' peace, some dreamed of heroism.
It was true respite after so long.
The prepared make no mistakes. Assuming the worst and preparing blocks ill fortune. But humans have limits to vigilance; danger strikes in an instant.
Just like then. Or right now.