Chapter 91
Chapter 91
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 91
Chapter Title: Black-Haired Knight King
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The next day, Helena stood atop the castle wall with an incredibly relaxed expression on her face.
With the pressure that had been squeezing her mind and body finally lifted, she had returned to her true self.
Wasn't it said that you have to let go of what you're holding to grasp something new?
Feeling that Richard's choice had been the right one, I quietly climbed the castle wall stairs.
"You've come?"
Helena, who had been gazing quietly at the rising dawn, greeted me.
Her beaming smile felt utterly natural.
"You woke up early."
"I threw away the medicine yesterday. I was sure I couldn't live without it, but that turned out not to be the case."
I had thought the faint sweet scent had faded, but she had finally kicked the drugs she was addicted to.
Though her hands and pupils trembled from withdrawal symptoms, her recovering spirit was growing clearer with each passing moment.
I gave her a small nod of encouragement for making the right decision and turned my gaze back toward the world beyond the wall.
There, the mercenary corps' main camp held position just outside arrow range.
"Any movements?"
"No, it was quiet all night. It'd be weirder if they attacked after their commander's throat got slit like that."
It had been worth the rampage up front.
The enemies seemed deeply shocked by their main camp being breached—no signs of an offensive even after daybreak.
But this lull wouldn't last.
I rubbed the bridge of my nose out of habit and sized up the defending forces I had scouted yesterday.
With so many casualties, the number of able-bodied fighters was low, and their training was abysmal.
No, the real problem was that the entire militia was gripped by thick fear.
To them, war was just about enduring to survive—it wasn't a path to victory.
Could an army without any fighting spirit really reclaim the chaotic east?
There was only one way.
Expose all the weak roots and plant new seeds suited to that soil.
I motioned for Helena to follow, and we began walking the castle wall amid the uncleared debris of war.
"The smithy looks well-staffed. Can you forge new weapons?"
"...Will there be time to adapt to new weapons? As you know, most of them are farmers."
Easterners born to farmers, spending their lives tilling the soil.
Expecting quick results from short-term training would be the commander's mistake.
But I placed my hand on the wall as if I had a different idea and measured the distance.
From here to here—the tip sharp and short, the shaft long and sturdy. The weapon I wanted was a pike.
"A long... spear?"
"Probably a bit different concept. Doesn't need more than a tip—just match the quantity."
"I'll make the deadline."
If not for the path she'd taken from the start, Helena was more than capable.
With a brief word of thanks, I pictured the battlefield ahead.
The east had more population than the north to begin with.
Gather and train all the militia from this uprising, and swelling our numbers would happen in a flash.
An eastern way of fighting suited to the east.
I intended to show those orc bastards who'd mocked humans the most terrifying form a militia could evolve into.
Leaving Helena behind as she consulted busily with her squad, I headed down from the wall.
But at that moment, the sound of small hooves in a cluster brushed past my ears.
"- - - - - -?"
"Alert! It's the enemies!"
Something was approaching the wall.
I rushed back up the stairs and looked in the direction Helena pointed.
There, three armed riders bearing flags were approaching the wall.
Weapons undrawn—it was clearly a gesture to talk below.
Doubt flickered through me, and I asked,
"Have they tried negotiating before?"
"...No, this is the first time."
I'd heard they were elites of sorts in the east, but true to mercenaries driven by coin, they were hypersensitive to losses.
Yesterday's damage must have far exceeded their expectations.
With a smirk, I rested my hand on my scabbard and leaped straight down from the wall.
"Kyaa!"
A startled scream rang out behind me.
But landing lightly despite the worry, I strode toward the agitated foes.
Purruk!
One dismounted.
He approached me face-to-face, removing his helmet as he came.
Face painted with red dye, body covered in scars.
The one here in place of the dead commander was a grizzled mercenary vice-captain.
Drawing close, he asked bluntly,
"Northern savage?"
"Human, as you can see."
"Different region."
"Do orcs divide kin by region?"
The orc's face twisted.
He'd caught the heavy weight in my casual retort.
Krrrk.
Barely containing the surging humiliation and rage, he snorted hot breath.
Then, in a resolute voice, he stated his purpose with a proposal.
"Don't know why a northern knight aids rebels. But retreat now, and I'll open a path for escape."
"Talkative."
"...You really want the mainland intervening? Better judge wisely if you value your thoughts."
"Mercs not even imperial—why drag mainland into it? Two mothers perhaps?"
Mainland-backed threats might work in the east, but not on us.
I parried every clumsy intimidation and declared our will to fight on.
"...Damn monkey spawn!"
As expected, the orc mercenaries feared future losses more than the siege defeat.
I flipped the bird at the cursing orc and turned to walk away.
"- - - - - - -."
The wall had gathered with my companions and crowds watching the exchange.
They blinked eyes laced with complex emotions at my brazen display.
Why risk himself for utter strangers?
The easterners began slowly recalling the north—their once-stalwart allies.
"Kraaaagh! No mercy from now on! Kids, elders! Male, female—all torn alive!"
But in that instant, the vice-captain shifted his threats.
Aimed his razor-sharp weapon at the easterners atop the wall.
A vow to tear men, women, young, and old alive if Sodom fell.
The already terrified easterners shrank further behind the wall.
Tsk.
I'd thought all orc heads the same, but this one turned sharper than expected.
At his effective intimidation of the easterners, I clicked my tongue lightly and drew my sword.
Shing!
Slash!
Hiiing!
No need for a stance.
I spun and swung in an instant—the foaming orc's throat parted clean.
Blood fountained skyward; the mounts reared in shock at the sight.
Remembering yesterday's terror, the other two fled in panic.
Clack.
I shook the blood free and sheathed my blade.
Then strode indifferently to kick the rolling head.
"No surrender."
Both sides needed to hear it.
Even if we rebuilt Sodom's wall with corpses, the war wouldn't end.
With that declaration, I turned back toward the blood-soaked streets of Sodom.
"I-is this good enough?"
"Fine handiwork. How much material and time per pike?"
"Gotta start to know for sure. Materials are plenty, but the shafts are so long..."
"Understood. No need for looks—just make 'em sturdy."
"Aigoo, leave it to us."
The blacksmiths Helena brought were all master craftsmen of exceptional skill.
As expected from easterners unmatched in working iron and tools.
I nodded to the smiths and approached the cart that had arrived in the clearing.
I pulled out sample pikes and handed them to the raven squad members.
"What's this?"
"Our new weapon?"
Unlike the militia, the raven squad had endured brutal training—most were elite soldiers.
Thus, they could be superb fighters and instructors alike.
"The weapon and formation you'll learn today. Once mastered, teach as many militia as possible."
"Ti-time's too tight, isn't it?"
"My comrades are buying time. Match your anxiety with maximum effort."
The enemy camp was paralyzed by the Black Arrows' night raids.
Every night, they slew the vice-captains, crumbling the chain of command.
Of course, safety wouldn't allow this forever, but it would buy ample time to train the squad and militia.
As I distributed the pikes, I asked,
"What's the militia's biggest flaw?"
"...Low morale."
"Right! Demanding lifelong farmers fight flesh-to-flesh is excessive from the start. Forcing it breeds needless casualties and drags the war unfavorably."
Warriors can control fear, even transmute it to rage.
But untrained militia recoiled even at killing.
So what to do?
As I waited for an answer, Richard—observing the training from the clearing's edge—spoke up.
"Extend engagement range."
"Correct."
Beating foes hand-to-hand versus shooting them with arrows—that difference.
Numbness to killing and the safety of distance.
Provide that, and even farmers could muster momentary courage.
"Raise pikes!"
The squad grasped it quickly.
Following my orders, they gripped pikes one by one and formed the instructed ranks.
"Training's short. Won't achieve perfect formation, but must teach holding together. What's best?"
"Circular!"
Teach one, grasp two.
I gladly praised the squad member and clapped once, facing the assembled shield wall.
"All tips forward! Not for thrusting! Push shafts thinking only to block enemy approach!"
"C-can't move!"
"Designed for dense formations. Boldly sacrifice mobility—focus solely on halting their advance."
Most orc mercenaries were heavy infantry clad in thick steel plate and wielding massive halberds.
But the militia's pikes were the perfect counter to halberdiers.
"Easterners have small frames! But small frames enable certain fights."
"Fear not the enemy. Thrust pikes into those who mocked the east!"
What gift for the wolf scorning a flock of thousands?
If that white wool turned to hedgehog spines, it couldn't laugh with jaws agape.
"Gap showing! Butts tight!"
"Even our village's northern grandpa'd do better! Backs straight, grip those pikes!"
Thus the grueling training began.
I darted madly around the pike shield wall, jabbing gaps with my scabbard and yanking shaky shafts to hurl them back.
But the squad, bound by conviction, sweated rivers and endured, endured.
Humans grow strong for what they must protect—the east would change the same way.