Chapter 51
Chapter 51
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 51
Chapter Title: Resolute Decisions
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“Dukedom troops are there, aren’t they? The castle has guards too.”
Piot stepped forward.
For the Sion Dukedom with a population exceeding nearly 200,000, it was reasonable to assume they had at least two or three thousand soldiers.
“…The Dukedom’s forces are divided across various regions, little brother. The troops at Three-Headed Eagle Castle and the surrounding area number fewer than five hundred. If we combine them with the forces sent by Count Pamell and Paloma’s…”
Yonas gritted his teeth, unable to finish the sentence.
As everyone grasped the gravity of the situation, a heavy silence enveloped the tent.
“That’s why we’ll intercept them.”
At Sion’s words, Yonas lifted his face, his shoulders heaving deeply as he bowed his head.
“Prielle. The warriors from High Mountain, North Mountain, and South Mountain will come with me.”
“Understood.”
“Stellman.”
“Yes.”
Stellman puffed out his chest, thrilled at the prospect of finally engaging in a proper battle.
“You will escort Piot to the Ducal Castle.”
“Yes? Why…”
Facing three hundred enemies, yet he and the mercenaries were to be excluded?
Forget the resentment—tactically, this made no sense.
“Guarding against contingencies at the Ducal Castle is just as crucial as blocking the foes crossing the forest. I suspect incidents will erupt simultaneously in multiple places. That’s why you and the mercenaries are vital.”
“Hmm. I shall obey the command.”
Stellman, chastising himself for his narrow judgment, promptly agreed, saluted militarily, and exited with Piot.
“And…”
Sion’s gaze lingered on Yonas, who stood alone with an expression as if he might collapse at any moment.
“Knight Longlive and Paloma’s forces will come with me. You too.”
“…!”
To the stunned Yonas, Sion said with a firm gaze.
“The shit your brother dumped is for you to clean up.”
“An-Ancestor.”
Yonas’s face drained of color in an instant, his hands trembling as he collapsed to his knees.
“Please forgive me, Ancestor. Forgive my brother… Forgive Paloma.”
He didn’t raise his voice for fear of being overheard, but Yonas’s tone was drenched in anguish, as if vomiting blood.
Treason.
His brother had committed the heinous act of dragging in external forces, even if they were in-laws.
“Forgiveness… Do you truly seek forgiveness?”
Sion’s voice dropped.
Feeling a chill like ice pressed to the nape of his neck, Yonas shuddered.
“I asked you, Yonas. Do you truly wish for my forgiveness?”
“I… I…”
In that brief moment, a storm of thoughts and worries swirled through Yonas’s mind.
But in the end, Yonas had no choice but to speak.
“I hope you do not forgive… I beseech you.”
Not as Paloma’s Yonas, but as Sion’s Yonas, he had made his decision.
‘What a shame to lose him.’
Sion looked down at Yonas’s heaving back.
Yonas had changed completely from his first impression. No, perhaps he hadn’t recognized his great-grandson’s true nature at first glance.
And now, he had glimpsed at least a part of that true nature.
‘Then I must change my mind.’
He had already mulled over various ideas but hadn’t committed to a decision.
But now, he had to decide.
What if it was the wrong choice?
Who cares. He wasn’t a perfect human.
If the wrong decision led to the wrong outcome, he could rethink it then.
But for now, he would trust this middle-aged great-grandson, who was holding back tears and heaving his broad shoulders.
“Rise.”
“Y-Yes…”
Sion stared long at Yonas, who stood with a flushed face, then parted his lips.
“I will use you importantly.”
“…As the Ancestor wills.”
Just as Sion had decided, Yonas gladly replied, having made his own choice.
But up to this point, Yonas didn’t know what ‘decision’ his immensely revered Ancestor had made.
* * *
The next morning.
The group split into two.
Leading were Sion, about twenty elf warriors from the three tribes, Yonas, Longlive, and the forces dispatched from Iron Mountain toward the Echo-less Forest.
The small delegation of elves and Iron Mountain dwarves would head to the Ducal Castle as originally planned, escorted by Stellman’s mercenary band.
“What’s going on? If Uncle’s going, I should go too.”
Sirban whined like a child, but Yonas was resolute.
“You must go with Piot.”
“No, Uncle…”
“Sirban.”
Flinch.
Sirban flinched, about to press further with a scowl.
Yonas, wearing a grave expression Sirban had rarely—if ever—seen, placed a hand on his shoulder and spoke.
“No matter what happens, stay by Piot’s side. You must.”
“…Pardon? What do you mean?”
“Just do as you’re told. Remember: no matter what… stay by Piot’s side unconditionally. Trust him and follow.”
“Uncle…”
Normally, he would pry or throw another tantrum, but this time, he couldn’t dare.
A stern scolding would have been preferable to this endlessly heavy, even weary visage of his uncle, which felt utterly alien to Sirban.
“I trust you.”
Tap, tap.
Sirban felt an inexplicable weight in Yonas’s light pats on his shoulder.
Still young and immature, he couldn’t fully grasp the situation, but he sensed something major had occurred.
And that it concerned not just his uncle and himself, but perhaps the family.
“Yes. I’ll do as you say.”
Thus, Sirban replied gravely, without a trace of his usual levity.
Seeing his once immature nephew finally maturing, a brief smile tugged at Yonas’s lips.
Unmarried, he regarded Sirban almost like his own child.
He had other nephews, but Sirban alone still fussed and acted spoiled toward him.
“It’ll all be fine. Now go.”
“…Yes. Come back safely, Uncle.”
“I will.”
Yonas nodded deeply, tugged the reins, and rode toward Sion’s group.
With hearing beyond mortal limits, Sion had overheard the two descendants’ conversation and smiled faintly.
“That one seems to have grown up too.”
“No, he’s still just a child.”
At Yonas’s denial, Sion, instantly grasping the intent, turned to the assembled elf warriors and Paloma forces, who had finished preparations, and said,
“I know what worries you.”
“…”
“Sirban will be safe. And so will you.”
“Ancestor…”
Sion looked at Yonas once more.
“You and Sirban are my descendants.”
“…!”
A single phrase.
But its weight and intensity were so immense that Yonas couldn’t help trembling.
“Do I… do I truly deserve to call myself your descendant…?”
“More than worthy. You are a proud Sion. So straighten your shoulders, Yonas Sion.”
At the words of Sion—living legend transcended, an absolute being—Yonas’s eyes reddened unwittingly, tears soon streaming down.
“This guy can’t even act his age.”
Sion clicked his tongue lightly at his middle-aged great-grandson’s tears.
“I’m sorry. But I’m just so happy…”
Wiping tears of joy from receiving acknowledgment from his deeply revered Ancestor, Yonas smiled.
“Crying then laughing…”
Suppressing a reflexive quip that might ruin the Ancestor’s dignity, Sion patted his descendant’s shoulder, just as Yonas had done to Sirban.
“But remember this well. Soon, the foes we face will be enemies. Invaders who dared trespass this land.”
“As Sion’s sword, I shall fulfill my duty.”
In Yonas’s reddened eyes, now wiped of tears, a fiery resolve flickered.
* * *
“The encampment?”
“Set within a fifty-meter radius, as ordered. Patrols follow the original plan, with the elves rotating shifts.”
“Good. Hm, nothing out of the ordinary.”
Sanders, Count Pamell’s nephew and a knight of the county, scoffed lightly.
In his early thirties, he belonged to the generation that had only heard tales of the past incident when the Pamell count’s large force entered the Echo-less Forest.
“Such a simple task, yet the family elders are too cowardly.”
Sanders couldn’t comprehend the older generation’s fear of the Echo-less Forest.
Sure, fearing the forest was understandable. This damned place was too deep, too dark, and far too perilous.
Spanning about twenty kilometers wide but tangled with hills around a hundred meters high, travel speed plummeted drastically. A hill was still a hill, even by day.
Crossing one took a full day, with frequent beast and monster attacks to boot.
Thus, traversing the entire twenty-odd kilometers took at least five or six days, up to ten in the worst case.
Indeed, the family’s past large force had suffered every hardship imaginable and taken about ten days.
But now was different.
“How are the elves? Any complaints?”
“They’re so tight-lipped, it’s impossible to tell. But they seem to earn their pay.”
“They look the part, so they must. A taste would confirm it, heh.”
Gathered in Sanders’s tent, chattering away, were the captains of the mercenary bands hired by the Pamell count’s family.
Each led bands numbering seventy to eighty at most, thirty or so at least—a total of five captains.
Initially rife with rivalries since not all were guild-affiliated, they now kept it under wraps.
Money. Generous pay could make even the greediest mercenaries appear unified.
“One warning: do not touch them. Cause trouble with the elves, and I’ll hold you accountable. You know what that means.”
“…”
The captains, mid-lewd jests, fell instantly silent.
Even toward employers, nobles typically faced their daggers, but the Pamell count’s family was no ordinary noble.
To put it bluntly, if they set their minds to it, they could muster thousands without mercenaries.
Just the knights and soldiers stationed at the count’s castle numbered over a hundred—enough to sweep away mercenaries in a blink.
“Of course.”
“No worries. I’ve drilled it into the men.”
Satisfied, Sanders swept his arrogant gaze over the swiftly adapting captains and shrugged pompously.
“Complete the job without incident, and payment is assured. As you’ve heard from the Count, there’s a performance bonus too.”
“As expected of great nobility—straightforward.”
“We’re all looking forward to it, me and the lads. We’ll show you.”
The captains grinned widely, baring yellowed teeth.
“Anyway, we’re in enemy territory, so no heavy drinking, but let’s have just one light round.”
“Yes!”
As Sanders brought out premium wine he’d packed separately, the captains cheered louder.
Over three days of travel, they’d suffered a dozen casualties—within expectations, no real dangers.
Trusting the night-eyed elves tonight would ensure no issues.
Hahaha!
As the wine made its round, the mood loosened further.
Then.
Piiieek!
A shrill horn pierced the night, stabbing into the tent.
Aaagh!
Screams followed.
(To be continued)