Friend or Foe Identification - 3
At my request, the Duke of Victory seemed lost in thought.
Had this been the last war, he would have set aside any personal friendship or worry and accepted at once. No—he would have issued the order before I even asked. The Duke of Victory was not a man who let private feelings color public duty. He knew full well that putting me into the fight would raise the odds of taking the Khan.
The reason he hesitated anyway was simple. First, I was officially serving as an inspector, not a combatant. Second, far too many powerful people were tied to my name.
Three dukes alone are tangled up with me, after all.
Anyone with half a brain could see the Emperor had appointed me inspector precisely so he could throw me into battle “in an emergency.” Officially, though, an inspector had no obligation to fight.
And now that same inspector was volunteering to face the Khan himself. If the Duke of Victory agreed, and the Demon Duke, the Iron Blood Duke, or the Wise Duke—none of whom could openly blame the Emperor—expressed their “regret” to him, the Duke of Victory’s position would become truly awkward. Even a man of his stature would find a three-duke gang-up a little harsh.
“I understand the inspector’s feelings well. But there is no need for the inspector himself to take the field. Trust in the soldiers of the Empire.”
In the end he returned a textbook answer.
Yet a textbook answer at this exact moment was not a firm refusal—it was simply him stacking up justifications. The conversation existed so he could later say: I was reluctant to let the inspector fight, but the situation left no choice and the man himself was determined, so I had no option but to accept.
“I know the courage of our troops better than anyone, but Dorgon is also skilled at slipping away. If we miss him now, the Empire’s losses will only grow worse.”
So I joined him in building that justification. If I took the front line, the Duke of Victory would bear some burden, large or small. The least I could do was make that burden as light as possible.
“Moreover—though I am ashamed to move for personal reasons in a matter of state—Dorgon holds a deep grudge against me. I cannot simply stand by while my father risks his wrath.”
At those words the Duke of Victory nodded. Under ordinary circumstances, dragging private motives into affairs of state would have been unthinkable. Today was the exception.
The Demon Duke, Iron Blood Duke, and Wise Duke who might take him to task were all bound to me by blood. Under those conditions, the justification “The inspector wants to save his father—how was I supposed to stop him?” left the three of them with nothing to say. They themselves would protest to the Duke of Victory for the sake of family; I was doing the same.
“If you move together with the Mukgwangdae, I will permit the inspector’s participation.”
The moment the justification was complete, the Duke of Victory accepted at once. The condition that I take the Mukgwangdae with me was attached, but they were already my escort and a force that could be thrown into the line this very minute. A welcome condition.
“My thanks, Your Grace.”
I bowed to the Duke of Victory and left the tent at once.
If I delayed even a little and something irreversible happened, I felt I would regret it for the rest of my life.
Georg, who had been bent double, spat a thick mouthful of blood and raised his head.
“Son of a bitch.”
The short curse carried every emotion at once. I bit my lip. My own feelings were no different from Georg’s.
The nomads who had appeared beneath an arrow rain that seemed to blot out the sky loosed several more volleys, then charged with a scream that threatened to tear eardrums. Against troops who, however ragged, still had a defensive line to hide behind, there was a limit to how much damage could be dealt from range.
More than ten thousand nomads came thundering in. The ground shook and the wind howled. Even I, who had lived through this more than once, felt a chill race down my spine; the ordinary soldiers needed no description.
So I rode forward and rallied them. Against the approaching disaster I raised my sword.
“Still tough, I see.”
But the disaster before us was one that two men alone could barely hold back.
“I wasn’t planning to go easy, yet you’re still standing. Stronger than last time, aren’t you?”
At the murmured admiration laced with genuine surprise, I heard Georg grind his teeth. It was not simple pride at being evaluated by an enemy. We already accepted that the bastard was stronger than we were.
“Hmm. Or is it that you just haven’t gotten used to that temporary weapon yet?”
What enraged him was the way the man chattered while clearly toying with us for all to see.
Stroking his chin, Dorgon faced us with a long staff he had picked up somewhere. A bow or spear would have been one thing; he was fighting both of us at once with a weapon he had never once used in the previous war.
And the fact that we were being driven back by that very weapon filled me with self-loathing. Georg, who had just taken a clean staff strike to the gut, was still gasping for breath as he barely lifted his head.
Not easy.
I had steeled myself for this, yet living it left a bitter taste. That the two of us together could only slow him down—how vast was the gap?
Still, it was fortunate that Dorgon kept his attention solely on us. While we held him, our side was somehow managing the nomads with knights and mages. If that monster plunged into the melee, the line would collapse in moments.
“Ah. Now I remember.”
Even as he fought, the man stroking his chin spoke again.
“Wilhelm Crassius of Tailglehen. Georg Hiden of Horfelt. Those were the names, yes? Everything else came back clear as day, but the names kept slipping. Nearly drove me mad.”
I felt Georg’s fury climb another notch. The enemy they had fought with everything they had never even known their names. The blow to the spirit was more than enough.
“Don’t take it the wrong way. Only the names escaped me. I always knew you two were strong foes.”
“And a man like that waves around a goddamn stick?”
“How unkind. This is a spear of sorts. It simply lacks an edge.”
The mocking tone almost dragged a curse out of even me, who had kept silent until now. A trivial remark, yet it scraped the insides raw with uncanny precision. Losing his father had clearly left the bastard’s personality in the gutter.
I glared at Dorgon, then exhaled and tightened my grip on the sword. Unfortunately, character and martial strength were not proportional. Some men crawled along the bottom of humanity yet remained strong—and those were exactly the ones who survived battles.
We won’t last long.
I glanced at my left hand on the reins—more precisely, at the shoulder. Even more unfortunately, a sharp pain had been building there for some time.
Of course it had. An arrow had been lodged there not long ago, and now a staff had driven into the same place. Even with healing, successive blows to the identical spot were bound to cause trouble. Holding the reins rather than a sword let me endure for now, but if the fight dragged on the pain itself would vanish—along with all sensation.
Still, if we hold just a little longer, they’ll pull back.
Fortunately the screams that had filled the field had been truly horrific only at the start; now they had somewhat subsided. That was impossible in the thick of a full-scale battle, which meant the nomads were deliberately restraining themselves from a prolonged offensive.
If so, this engagement was more reconnaissance than true assault. They would fight just enough and withdraw. And unless the nomads pulled the absurd stunt of retreating while leaving their chieftain behind, the disaster before us would soon leave as well.
Victory had never been the plan. So just a little longer—until they fell back—
“Time to wrap this up.”
The words reached me, and the world tilted.
“Wilhelm!”
Georg’s voice, thick with horror, followed an instant later, but I doubt he was more shocked than I was.
…Monster.
Only when blood filled my mouth did I understand what had happened. The man who had remained mounted the entire time had somehow launched himself free and driven the staff forward. The shaft punched through the horse’s neck and reached my chest.
It made no sense. Had he used the stirrup as a springboard and leapt straight out? Or simply dismounted and charged? Either action should have taken a visible moment, yet my eyes had caught none of it. Not a single frame of that long sequence.
When the gap was this wide, all one could do was laugh hollowly. In three years this monster had grown even stronger.
Damn it.
The ground drew closer. The horse, throat pierced, collapsed and dragged me with it; my body would not answer the command to find balance. The chest had not been fully run through, but the blow had clearly shaken my insides to pieces.
Even so, instinct protected my head. Falling like this would leave me gravely wounded, yet not dead on the spot. As long as breath remained, there was still a chance.
Of course the act was futile. No one left an enemy writhing on the ground simply because he had not died instantly. Proof came when Dorgon yanked the staff free of the horse and swung it again.
This time I can see it.
I almost laughed. Had death sharpened my eyesight, or was he simply moving leisurely because his prey was already dying?
I hoped it was the former. A warrior is always prepared for death, yet if that final moment is stained by an enemy’s mercy and carelessness, how shameful a thing is that?
So this is the creature my son has fought again and again.
Karl’s face floated unbidden before me. The so-called father had been dropped in an instant by this monster, yet Karl had fought him as an equal more than once. A truly outstanding son, unlike his useless sire.
…If only that son had not come to this war, my heart would have been lighter. Only after reaching this state did I regret not forbidding him more fiercely.
Yet that, too, was empty regret. The Karl of those days would not have listened no matter what I said.
I’m only loading more weight onto a boy already carrying too much.
That was the truly sorrowful part. A son who had returned to the North out of lingering attachment would receive no help from me—only another burden on his heart.
Or perhaps I was overestimating myself. How good a father had I ever been to that child, that my death would become a burden one way or the other?
Thinking that, my heart grew a little lighter—
“Oh.”
Dorgon suddenly lifted the corner of his mouth in a short sound of admiration and stepped past me.
“You’ve come, Karl Crassius!”
…?
Who?
The unexpected name shattered my drifting thoughts. The life flashing before my eyes vanished as if it had never been.
I wondered if, standing at the edge of death, I had misheard.
“Long time no see, you fatherless mutt!”
The voice that followed was unmistakably Karl’s.
“If living alone is so lonely, just die and go see your family already—what’s the point of making more orphans?!”
The contents were somehow off, but it was definitely Karl.