Chapter 367
Chapter 367
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 367
Chapter Title: Honor and Dishonor (1)
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The mountains were seething. Slowly, from the dense forests unique to the Kingdom of Dane and the foothills beneath them. With an intensity that belied the mere thousands of able-bodied men shouting.
[Val-haaa—!!]
Even those who didn't understand the Northern tongue could grasp the implication of that cry. It brimmed with fierce hostility. To Fairn's knights, it was unfamiliar attire, unfamiliar armament, and an unfamiliar language. But there was one thing they could be certain of.
Those foes feared no death. Fairn's knights mounted their horses, checked their gear, and gazed at the advancing enemy under the heavy visors of their helmets.
"How many are the enemy?!"
"Endless, endlessly! From the forest... from the mountains...! The foes are swarming out!"
"Damn it all, what the hell were the scouts doing?!"
"Th-there was surely no camp of this scale in the vicinity..."
"Then did they drop from the sky or rise from the ground?!"
The command staff was plunged into chaos. In a small camp, such confusion from the command quickly spreads to the soldiers. Even in a well-disciplined knight order, it was the same.
They were surrounded. Standing at the edge of a camp barely fortified with a simple palisade, the knights watched the approaching enemy. The foes had halted at a distance just beyond arrow range, centered on the camp, and were simply staring at them.
"Who are you lot?!"
Ludwig stepped forward and bellowed thunderously. Even amid the chaos, these were the Royal Griffin Knights. They wouldn't have their morale broken by mere encirclement or numerical disadvantage.
Ludwig was no different. Regardless of personal convictions, once battle commenced, his valor and resolve would not crumble under such turmoil. He strode boldly ahead and shouted.
"Call forth your master! If you know honor, step forward and face me!"
Laughter erupted from among the Northerners glaring at them. Soon, the Northerners parted slowly, and a man rode forth on horseback. Ludwig confirmed his appearance under his helmet's visor and sighed lowly.
"Round Table Knight Albert...!"
"Long time no see, Sir Ludwig von Wolfstal."
"I see. So you've remained in this place."
Ludwig swallowed hard and groaned. Why hadn't this man joined his king on the expedition? Could their strategy have been exposed, and were such events unfolding across the entire Kingdom of Dane right now?
No, if so, the enemy's composition made no sense. If King Vicente had laid a trap, it should have been Dane's elite troops and Round Table Knights blocking them, not these barbarians.
Then... was this force mercenaries personally mustered by this man? Had he anticipated the invasion of his homeland and moved separately from the king's distant expedition?
In that moment, Ludwig looked around and realized.
"Weren't there only fools in Dane...?"
Like Fairn's other forces, the Royal Griffin Knights had conducted individual landings. Their mission was to advance toward Altbert and annihilate any enemy forces along the route.
While other legion commanders moved for invasion and conquest, the Griffin Knights moved solely for annihilation. In other words, they were the only independent unit in this war that scarcely pillaged enemy territory or its people.
And yet, of all things, a Round Table Knight was here. If it was to intercept an elite force composed purely of combat troops, instead of defending his own people and lands...
"It's a trap...!"
"Impressive, Ludwig. How does that brain of yours serve Sigismund?"
Fernandez was genuinely admiring. The intelligence known to the Fairn army was scant. That King Vicente, the Round Table Knights, and all significant forces were marching toward Fairn, and that this land now lacked defensive troops.
With just that much information, Ludwig had inferred the existence of a trap merely from Fernandez's appearance before them. Fernandez slowly stroked his horse's flank and narrowed his eyes.
'As expected of a hero.'
In his previous life, this man had been one of countless heroes. Back then, alongside the royal house of Dane led by Vicente II, he had commanded Fairn's uncorrupted legions as supreme commander. Ludwig von Wolfstal. The Knight of the Wolf.
Fernandez gave a wry smile and gripped his sword hilt. How had life flowed to this point—or perhaps it was the karma the world had laid upon him. The heroes he had opposed in his past life were opposing him once more in this one.
"You laid a trap at Altbert...? Leaving the other commanders advancing slowly undisturbed, and coming straight for us heading directly to Altbert—there's no other explanation."
"Correct. From my position of needing to buy time, I had to control the sole variable."
"A ceasefire negotiation... would be pointless, I take it."
"Captain! What do you—! We can fight!"
"Silence, you fool!"
Ludwig snapped at the knight voicing discontent beside him. His eyes blazed fiercely.
"What do you think is the reason that man reveals himself here and answers my every question? It's because he's certain he can defeat us!"
"That's arrogance! No one can claim certain victory against Fairn's Royal Griffin Knights!"
"Do you know that man's name?"
"...I've never seen him before. You called him a Round Table Knight...?"
"Round Table Knight Albert. You don't even know the name of the knight called the Saint of Shild and the Reincarnation of the Dane King?"
"Ah... that man's...?"
Ignoring the knight murmuring in dismay, Ludwig turned to face forward once more. Seeing Fernandez approach, he slowly drew his sword.
"I challenge you to a duel, Sir Albert."
"That won't save your knights."
"But at least it can save my honor."
"Was it honor that led a man as honorable as you to condone Sigismund's massacres and invade a foreign land for plunder? Was that your chivalry?"
At Fernandez's words, Ludwig's face flushed red. With trembling hands, he seized his helmet and hurled it to the ground. He glared straight at Fernandez with blazing eyes and shouted.
"Are you saying I had another choice? After all Fairn's royal blood was already dead and gone, at the point when the entire nation writhed under mana pollution! Are you telling me I should have opposed the royal family and let the kingdom be buried eternally under ice, starving to death alongside the people in the coming winter!"
"Indeed, you should have! If you dare speak of honor, then yes! And if not—if you chose to follow Sigismund's orders—you have no right to utter the word honor. You lack the qualification."
Fernandez spurred his horse forward toward him. A small clearing formed around the two men. Neither the Northerners nor the Royal Knights' knights dared approach rashly.
The solemn auras of the two knights clashed violently. Under the gaze of thousands of soldiers, they drew their swords toward each other.
"Albert...!! Do you dare lecture me on honor? Did I wish to beg for scraps amid the exhausted, diseased people and close my eyes in the ruins? I am a knight, and I will die before a blade!"
It could be called the ravings of a knight who had forsaken his convictions. He did not want to collapse and die in the cold among the destitute. Regardless of Sigismund's temptations, he wanted to grip his sword on the battlefield, fight toward victory, and die.
Sigismund massacring the people? It was certainly wrong not to stop it, but having failed, there was no next step. Fairn was already beyond saving, and Sigismund, the sole remaining royal blood, had seized all the kingdom's nobles.
Even if he alone rebelled, victory was unlikely. And even if he won, the future held only a nation steeped in grief, crumbling away. Better, then—better.
Better to die as a knight. That was the only honor he harbored. To march to the battlefield at his sovereign's command and meet death. To him, death was no atonement. It was merely an escape.
Fernandez stared at him with coldly chilled eyes and spoke lowly.
"Not everyone here can debate honor. At the very least, I lack the qualification to condemn you."
Saving the people and becoming their hope. Pitying the weak and charging toward injustice. All those things were, at least, not permitted to Fernandez. He moved for victories far more vicious and malicious.
Thus, he could not judge Ludwig's stubbornness. He had no intention of defending himself.
Drawing his sword, he charged at Ludwig, thinking. The hero who must be born at the end of this war, the hope of the masses—that was not his role.
That seat was for someone more noble, someone more fitting.
-Plop!
A blue flower bloomed on the wooden plaque hanging from his nape.
'The final variable is done.'
It meant that the one man—the king who would save this grief-stricken east, the hope of others—had made his decision. The final condition of the game Fernandez had orchestrated. The signal he had told Freyja of had now reached him.
With a heart much lightened, Fernandez swung his sword. The war of the honorable was only now beginning, and the battle of the dishonorable villains would end here.
After this, it would merely be the creation of one more clichéd heroic epic.
* * *
The steel city of Altbert. This grand city, built atop a giant's corpse, could only be reached by passing through a narrow pass ringed by five great mountains and crossing vast farmlands, perched atop a hill ridge.
Now, upon those farmlands, countless people gathered, forming villages and lighting campfires. Transcending rank and status, all the people of this land.
Even before Fairn's legions reached the coastline, from the moment the Northerners' pillaging began, Dane's every citizen had flocked to the walls of Altbert. Partly because it was the only city in the kingdom with anything resembling proper forces, but also because Altbert had taken root as a symbol of peace and safety among the people.
Altbert was a natural fortress in itself and a symbol of the royal house. The city of the great hero who had severed all worldly calamities of his era and saved the masses. Refugees gathered, clinging solely to that myth, harboring the tiniest spark of hope.
Even the Northerners rampaging and pillaging homes across the nation spared their refugee columns. To the people, this seemed a miracle, a symbol. A symbol that safety awaited those who took this road.
Hope swelled. Baseless, substanceless hope spread among the people. Even as the entire country burned, this radiant city would protect them, allowing the kingdom's borders to be reclaimed once more—that hope.
-Rumble!
The ground trembled, and the people began pointing at the sky, crossing themselves, or prostrating and sobbing. Above, a dragon from myth descended.
The dragon hooked its massive claws onto the wall's gallery and carefully alighted, looking down upon the crowds bowing toward it.
"Ahh... Great Mother."
Amid the people's low prostrations, several elders and magus approached the dragon with a boy. The dragon's blue eyes turned to the boy. Instinctively trembling, the boy steadied himself with effort and slowly knelt before the dragon.
[...Indeed, you resemble him. What is your name?]
"I am Eric, son of Vicente. O great mother."
Amid the universal recoil from the dragon's overwhelming pressure in its voice, the boy answered motionless from his kneeling posture. At that sight, a gentle smile touched the dragon's eyes. Between its claws gleamed black metal.
A single blade fell from the dragon's claw, embedding before the boy's eyes.
[Hear me. Must you not protect your people with your own strength?]
"I shall make those words my vow."
[No, that is not the value you must swear to.]
With a gentle gesture, the dragon delicately stroked his hair.
[Pity the fallen. That alone suffices.]