Your War, My War (5)
When Maxim finally regained full consciousness, his body had already been moved from the carriage to a tent. His mind, still muddled by the drug, refused to function properly. He couldn't even circulate his mana to purge the lingering effects still swirling through his veins. The only reason he had awakened from that deep slumber was that the medicine's potency had simply worn off.
"Why..."
Maxim collapsed onto the tent floor. His hands and arms, braced against the ground, trembled violently. The shaking spread to his shoulders, then rippled through his entire body.
"Damn it...!"
Maxim forced his quivering limbs to obey, pushing himself up onto one knee, then the other. Both knees shook uncontrollably. He lowered his hands to the raised knee for support, but no matter how much strength he poured into them, his body wouldn't rise. As he struggled to stand, his limbs gave out completely, and he pitched forward with a heavy thud.
Crash!
The commotion inside the tent drew someone who immediately flung open the flap. Maxim, his chin still planted against the floor, stared out at the scene beyond. The sky had turned a hazy, bloody red. He dragged his body forward, clawing desperately with his hands.
"I have to... get up..."
"Good heavens! Please don't move, sir!"
A soldier in battered armor rushed over and supported him. Maxim's arm hung limply as the man lifted him. The soldier half-carried him across the ground and settled him onto a simple cot inside the tent. Once Maxim was seated, the soldier examined him with concern.
"When did you wake up?"
"Just now... but where... where are we...?"
Maxim's words kept breaking off. He was breathing with great difficulty. His head spun wildly, making everything blur.
"We are the last unit to evacuate Murat. We're currently heading toward the royal capital."
"What?"
Maxim coughed out the question. Each convulsive cough sent a stabbing pain through his lungs, as if they were being pierced by a sharp blade. He swallowed dryly, cleared his throat, and asked again.
"What do you mean, evacuated Murat? Explain yourself."
"It's exactly as it sounds. We had to leave Murat in haste before the battle began."
"Battle? Then why am I here?"
The young soldier flinched at Maxim's sharp tone and took a step back before continuing.
"Well... Commander Theodora Benning ordered that you be treated as an injured knight... and since you couldn't participate in combat, you were to be transported away."
Maxim gripped the soldier's arm, stunned into silence.
"You remained unconscious for a long time... Your complexion was terrible, and while we couldn't determine the exact nature of your injuries, it was clear you were in poor condition or suffering from severe wounds."
Maxim shook his head violently, trying to process the reality. But the remnants of the drug still clouded his thoughts. He clutched his throbbing skull.
"How long... how long has it been since we left Murat?"
The soldier glanced outside the tent.
"About two days..."
It felt as if a lump of iron had dropped onto Maxim's heart.
"Two days."
Had the battle already begun? If it was still raging, how far had it progressed? Maxim tried to push himself forward.
"Sir, if you push yourself..."
"Let me out."
Maxim shrugged off the soldier's support and stood. With unsteady, limping steps, he pushed aside the tent flap and stepped outside. A dense line of trees marked the beginning of the forest. The retreating unit was crossing a field near the edge of the woods. At the sound of rustling, Maxim turned and met the gaze of someone looking his way.
"You're awake."
Count Agon sat casually atop a rock. He looked quite at home as he prodded the burning logs with a stick. A mess tin hung over the campfire, and the rising steam suggested something was boiling inside.
Maxim approached the count with a deeply furrowed brow. His steps were painfully slow.
"You don't look well at all. Why not rest a little longer?"
The count spoke in a flat tone. The sun had not yet fully set, but in the highlands, darkness could descend in an instant once one let their guard down. Maxim knew he could not afford to delay. The battle against the wave of monsters would be short and decisive. At most, it would be settled within four days.
"Could you lend me a horse?"
Maxim skipped any preamble and went straight to the point. Count Agon acted as if he hadn't heard him.
"Or perhaps you'd like to eat outside? The bugs might be bothersome, but there's something special about a meal under the open sky."
The count poked at the mess tin with his stick as he spoke. When Maxim remained silent, refusing to let the subject change, the count sighed.
"I can lend you a horse."
Despite his words, his eyes regarded Maxim with clear indifference.
"But what exactly do you think you can accomplish by going back?"
It was a reasonable question. Even if he returned, Maxim knew he wouldn't suddenly become a dramatic turning point in the battle. At best, he might take down a few more monsters. More likely, he would exhaust himself and collapse. If he used his aura, he might prove somewhat useful. But he didn't want to think about the consequences that would follow.
"For all we know, the battle might already be over."
As Count Agon said, Murat's forces might have already slain the Behemoth. With Theodora's sword and the support of other knights, it might have been possible. The kingdom's reinforcements could have arrived to help. Or, conversely, the Behemoth might have crushed every knight, soldier, and reinforcement sent by the kingdom and be marching toward the royal capital right now. That possibility seemed far more likely.
Either way, there was no rational reason for Maxim to return.
"So just come along quietly. It's not as if I enjoy sending my men to their deaths while I head comfortably back to the capital."
The count spoke as if to say he wasn't taking this lightly either.
"That eldest daughter of the Benning family asked me to take good care of you until you recovered. From what I hear, she seems to cherish you dearly. For her sake, wouldn't retreating be the wiser choice?"
The count was right. Maxim could find no words to refute him.
"I..."
"Just sit here and eat. If you're tired, go back inside and rest more. We'll be moving out early tomorrow morning, so you'd do well to conserve your strength."
Maxim's expression hardened.
"I must go back."
The count raised an eyebrow at him.
"You really are an amusing fellow."
He carefully lifted the now-boiling mess tin and set it on the ground.
"Very well. Let's assume you must return. Then perhaps you can convince me why I should hand over one of this retreating unit's precious horses to you?"
Maxim could not say that there was someone he wanted to protect.
"Do you understand how crucial the presence of an aura-wielding knight is in battle?"
When Maxim spoke, Count Agon frowned.
"Looking at your current condition, I'm not sure you'd be much help."
"There is no time."
Maxim spoke urgently, as if he had no patience for such arguments. His golden eyes burned with cold fury as they glared at the count. Count Agon shook his head slowly. Maxim looked ready to walk if he wasn't given a horse. The count realized he could not break this stubbornness.
If Maxim was truly denied a mount, he would steal one and flee. No one in the group could stop a knight who had set his mind on something. The count let out a long sigh.
"It's not that I can't give you one. But how can I simply close my eyes and send you off to what is clearly a suicidal battlefield?"
"In any case, I don't have much time left."
Maxim coughed again as he spoke. The count looked at him as if wondering what that meant. Then, seeing the desperation in his eyes, he seemed to understand. A hint of pity crept into his voice.
"...So that's why that child from the Benning family tried to send you away. I cannot let you go, nameless knight. At the very least, I cannot choose to give you a horse."
Maxim nodded slightly. His body and mind were still unsteady, but as the drug's effects faded, he was beginning to regain control.
"Then I suppose I have no choice."
When Maxim's attitude suddenly shifted, Count Agon grew wary rather than relieved.
"If you won't lend me one, I'll simply have to take one and ride."
At those words, the count raised both hands in resignation.
"So you're even willing to resort to that."
"What matters to me right now isn't the method."
Maxim was resolute. Count Agon faced him directly.
"Even if I call the soldiers to stop you?"
"..."
As the count raised his hand higher, soldiers surrounded Maxim from the sides and rear. Maxim recognized several familiar faces. They were the soldiers who had been injured in No Man's Land and could not remain in Agon. Men missing an arm or a leg, their bandaged faces visible, stood blocking his path. He saw a few faces he had saved on the battlefield.
"Sir Maxim, we understand how you feel, but we cannot let you go."
One soldier stepped forward.
"Do you really think you can stop me?"
Maxim twisted his lips into a sneer.
"I heard you can't even fight..."
Maxim snorted.
"I can fight. My arms and legs are still perfectly fine."
"You have quite the sense of humor, Sir Maxim."
After a moment of hesitation, another soldier spoke.
"Vice-Commander Kristin and Commander Theodora would not want this."
Yes. But losing them beyond my sight would be a thousand times more unbearable than earning their hatred.
Maxim looked up at the sky with an empty, bitter voice and murmured as if reciting a prayer.
"If I lose all of them, I will regret until my dying breath that I did not go when they didn't want me to."
At those words, silence fell over the standoff between Maxim and the soldiers. It was a very long silence. The most senior soldier at the front of the group finally broke the prolonged staring contest and spoke.
"...Go."
He was the highest-ranking among them. The other soldiers looked at him as if asking what he was saying. Count Agon simply listened from behind, choosing not to intervene and leaving the decision to the soldier's judgment.
"Having received help from you, how could I hold you back?"
The soldier stepped aside. Maxim met his eyes.
"...To be honest, it's because I don't think we could stop you even if we tried."
Another soldier said this as he made way. Opinions among the soldiers were divided. But in the end, they all cleared a path for Maxim as he walked forward.
"...One horse remains. We brought it along so that when Sir Maxim woke up, he could ride it."
As Maxim took the reins, a soldier added from behind.
"So please, go with an easy heart."
Maxim gave a heavy nod and mounted the horse. The animal snorted and pawed the ground but offered no resistance. When Maxim loosened the reins and nudged its sides with his heels, the horse surged forward. Feeling the wind rush against him, Maxim stared straight ahead. Into the whirlwind whose destination he could not know, Maxim rode like a madman.
Theodora fought at the very front line at all times. Whenever her platinum aura blazed forth, monsters were swept away. No matter the moment, she charged straight toward the most dangerous creatures. The only reason the overstretched front line could hold was thanks to Theodora and the knights who radiated their aura beside her.
The mages, including Kristin, cast spells without pause. Thousands of monsters perished within their magic. The number of creatures pressing against the line seemed to have noticeably decreased.
Then, on the morning of the following day, when the Behemoth finally revealed itself on the front line, one-third of the remaining troops were annihilated. The reinforcements that had departed from the royal capital had still not arrived.