Chapter 122
Chapter 122
Iron Emperor — Chapter 122
The moons floating in the sky cast a gentle glow, as if soothing the land that the scorching sun had ruled. Yet, as if the heavens' caress still fell short, man-made firelight carved another trail across the darkness.
"Let's hurry up and relieve them."
"This'll get us out of it if a battle breaks out tomorrow."
"You never know."
About thirty North Roselin soldiers walked along, torches in hand, murmuring among themselves. Once they got through this night, they would earn the right to rest during the next day's fighting—provided a battle actually occurred, that is.
In the moment of swinging a blade and ending a life, they became drunk on blood and were swept away by the scent of death. But afterward, eating their post-battle meal, they dreamed of survival.
While other soldiers rested easy, these men moved to a distant outpost to stand guard. They walked on, praying for a battle tomorrow, using their comrades' lives as collateral to wish for a few safer days of their own.
War is a selfish thing.
"Almost there."
"Damn it, I wish the war would just end while we're stuck out here."
"Ah, shut up. Get inside!"
Had they come to believe completely in the safety of the rear lines?
They prattled on and on, well aware that the quiet night air would carry their voices far. The veteran leading the group shut down their endless chatter as he walked toward the entrance of a small fort built atop a low hill.
"Relief's here."
He signaled with his torch to announce their arrival, and the fort's gate swung open.
"You're late."
A curt reply came from inside.
"Damn it, you could at least give the countersign, even just going through the motions. What if we were spies!"
The veteran grumbled as he led the soldiers inside, irritated that they had opened the gate without even answering his torch signal.
"Tch. Spies, my frozen ass."
The reply came in a scoffing grumble as well. The relief troops stepped through the gate, craning their necks and looking around.
"We need to do the handover and get back fast."
The soldier who had opened the gate bolted it shut again and grumbled at the veteran's remark.
"Tch! Handover, my foot. Is this your whole roster?"
At the soldier's blunt retort, the veteran who had led the relief detachment frowned.
"What nonsense are you talking? Why is this your whole roster?"
Excluding the permanent garrison, there should have been about thirty men to relieve, yet only ten had appeared.
Frowning at their sluggish behavior, the veteran approached the soldier he had been speaking with.
"Kya-woong!"
"What the—!"
Into the veteran's eyes came the sight of a baby saber-tooth tiger cradled in the soldier's arms, crying out. And that was the last sight of his life.
Bash!
"Hurk!"
The veteran's head burst open like a smashed watermelon, and the thirty-odd soldiers sitting around at rest jolted up in shock.
Thud.
"Enemy...."
Slash!
Only once the veteran's headless body slammed into the dirt did someone shake off his surprise and try to shout, but the cry never finished. A blade gleaming with moonlight sprayed blood.
Bam!
"Gh-hrk!"
The iron staff crushed a soldier's chest, and he collapsed without even managing a proper scream.
Samdopyo's party had already infiltrated, wiped them all out, and simply waited for the relief shift. Thanks to their thorough preparation, it did not take long for the thirty-odd soldiers to fall without so much as a cry.
"Confirm the kills."
At Dupyo's order, they meticulously thrust blades into the throats of every corpse, even those clearly dead.
"No issues, General."
"Tch. Baron Bels, let's move quickly. These bastards took their sweet time getting here, so..."
They all spread out as far as possible and began moving with torches held in both hands. Between them, of course, walked the roughly twenty sentries they had captured alive earlier—there to bulk up the headcount.
The enemy perimeter was surprisingly dense, but the operation's boldness allowed them to move comfortably close to the main camp.
"We have to break off from here..."
"What do we do with these guys?"
When someone pointed at the now-useless prisoners and asked, Dupyo gazed at them for a moment and then smiled.
"Well, let's just say they're lucky. We'll let them live."
When they departed the scene a short while later, twenty-odd human cocoons were crawling furiously toward the North Roselin main camp.
* * *
There is no war more grueling than one that offers no light.
With the capital fallen and the Holy Empire's overt backing revealed, South Roselin's resistance already seemed futile. Yet despite such assessments from the neighboring kingdoms, the surviving royal house and soldiers of South Roselin banded together and kept fighting.
The core of that outcome was Marquis Helios Baikal, the War God of the East. And the elite of the Eastern Army, practically his alter ego, proclaimed victory even in this war that everyone else called a lost cause.
That declaration became a ray of light for a crumbling South Roselin.
"What could it be?"
Marquis Baikal asked a single question.
Unrest in North Roselin. A strange undercurrent had been detected in the North Roselin camp that had initially surged against the front lines. But the rigid control of the front left Marquis Baikal forced to swallow his frustration.
Bang!
"Hm?"
"Your Grace!"
Marquis Baikal's brow furrowed when a staff officer burst roughly into his office, but curiosity surfaced before irritation.
"An enemy raid?!"
"No! Baron Silen Bels has returned alive!"
"What!"
Surprise and gladness flickered across Marquis Baikal's face, and the voice that burst from his mouth carried an excitement unlike his usual tone.
"Where is he now!"
He was asking where Baron Bels was.
"He should be moving from the forward base to the main camp as we..."
Clatter!
"Your Grace!"
Bang!
Marquis Baikal shoved the rest of the report aside, flung his chair away, and bolted out. His staff officer's voice was cut off by the door slamming shut.
Around a core of a dozen riders, roughly forty horsemen flanked them like an escort, churning up a cloud of dust. At the head of the formation, Baron Silen Bels's face was haggard, but unlike when he had been running for his life on foot, a spark of vitality had returned.
And no wonder—how treacherous had the journey been from Vihanen Fortress to here?
Moreover, the information he now carried could bring fresh change to this bleak battlefield. Yet one complication churned in a corner of his mind: How am I supposed to explain this nation called Gauri?
'Marquis Baikal!'
But he no longer had to bear the burden alone. He knew better than anyone that his rightful place was as a staff officer.
"Hyah!"
THUD-THUD-THUD!
As Baron Bels spurred his horse faster and pulled ahead, Samdopyo, riding behind him, wore an expression of disbelief.
"Tch. Just a little while ago that man was gasping like he was dying, and now look at him fly. Just fly. Hyah!"
The riders racing toward the South Roselin main camp picked up more and more speed—as if charging toward hope itself.
"Huh!"
At the very front, Baron Bels spotted a hundred-odd riders thundering toward him through a rising dust cloud. When he saw the banner at their head, tears welled in his eyes.
"Your Grace!"
The sight of Marquis Baikal's command flag brought tears shimmering to Baron Bels's eyes. His liege lord had ridden out to greet him personally.
"Tch."
Watching Baron Bels's cheering back, Dupyo clicked his tongue.
He understood the man's feelings well enough. At the same time, curiosity stirred about this Marquis Baikal. It was rare for a liege lord to race out and meet a subordinate in person—and it also meant Baron Bels was valued that highly.
'Well...'
In the Gauri camp, the man had been pushed around to no end, but Dupyo, who had experienced his ability firsthand during the siege of Vihanen Fortress, could accept it to some degree.
When the two groups met, Baron Bels dismounted with nimble speed and ran forward. From the other side, the gray-haired Marquis Baikal also dismounted and walked toward him.
Shing.
"Baron Silen Bels reports his return to Marquis Helios Baikal."
Baron Bels drew his sword and raised it to his chest, offering a knight's salute.
Pat.
"You've been through much."
"Not at all. I am only sorry I could not ride back faster."
Marquis Baikal placed his hands on Baron Bels's shoulders and patted them, his face filled with the joy of a treasured subordinate's safe return.
But it lasted only a moment. When Marquis Baikal's eyes fell on the dozen-odd Gauri soldiers among the horsemen arrayed behind his own troops, a strange gleam entered them.
Snort.
Marquis Baikal's gaze turned toward Dupyo at the head of the Gauri forces. Even Dupyo's horse seemed to sense that stare and snorted, but Dupyo himself sat upright on his mount, looking as though he neither saw nor cared.
"Your Grace, the greatest variable of this war has emerged."
Sensing Marquis Baikal's interest, Baron Bels quietly whispered it into his ear.
"Let us return at once. I am grateful you are back."
At the sincerity in Marquis Baikal's voice, a smile touched the corner of Baron Bels's lips.
The party that returned to the main camp received lavish treatment and rested from their long ordeal while waiting. Baron Silen Bels, however, declined even rest and headed straight for the office of Marquis Helios Baikal.
Marquis Baikal and Baron Bels entered the office alone, just the two of them.
A little later, two cups of tea were set on the table, wisps of steam rising, and Baron Bels smiled a happy smile.
"I have missed a warm cup of tea, Your Grace."
"I have missed your empty seat among my staff."
The two exchanged composed smiles.
Just as Baron Bels was savoring the tea's aroma and wetting his lips, Marquis Baikal's question came.
"Were there people like that among the northern mercenaries?"
Baron Bels answered with a bitter smile.
"They are not northern mercenaries."
"Not northern mercenaries?"
At Baron Bels's reply, the corners of Marquis Baikal's eyes lifted slightly. As if understanding his reaction, Baron Bels nodded and continued.
"Where to even begin..."
"Mm."
"To start with the conclusion—it concerns Duke Perren, the one who faced us as the enemy commander on the border at the war's outset."
When Duke Perren's name came up, lines formed at the corners of Marquis Baikal's eyes. It was only natural—the name of the traitor who, though born of the South Roselin royal house, had led the invasion of South Roselin was not a welcome one.
Seeing his expression shift, Baron Bels smiled knowingly and spoke.
"He is dead."
"Dead? How did it happen?"
At Marquis Baikal's surprise, Baron Bels smiled a truly bitter smile, as if he had foreseen the reaction.
Sensing that something was afoot, Marquis Baikal fell silent and waited for Baron Bels's next words to explain.
"Not only Duke Perren—every soldier who fought us on the border has been annihilated."
"Such a thing—!"
"Yes. At Vihanen Fortress, the entire command staff, including Duke Perren, was wiped out, and an enormous number of prisoners were taken."
"......."
Marquis Baikal's eyes filled with incomprehension at Baron Bels's statement. And no wonder—there simply were no forces deep behind the front capable of dealing with such numbers.
"As things stand, the power dominating the southwestern region of South Roselin is not North Roselin."
"Does this have something to do with the people who came with you?"
Baron Bels silently nodded at Marquis Baikal's question and slowly began to speak.
"By any chance... do you know of a nation called Gauri?"
"Gauri?"
Marquis Baikal sank into yet another puzzle.
"I have never heard the name."
"It is them."
With those words, the things Baron Bels had seen and heard with his own eyes began to pour forth. By the time the account, detail after detail, reached the subjugation of the Haian Kingdom's Baron Gowin and the expeditionary force, agitation crept across Marquis Baikal's face.
"The Hawk Corps..."
If they had moved to the North Roselin camp, the battlefront that was barely holding on would collapse as plainly as watching a fire. While it was a stroke of luck, their emergence also spelled trouble for Marquis Baikal.
"Still, thanks to them, you returned alive and obtained such critical intelligence. That is a relief. So who now commands the troops who survived at Vihanen Fortress?"
"That is..."
A shadow fell over Baron Bels's face at Marquis Baikal's question. But Marquis Baikal simply gazed at him quietly, without pressing.
In that moment, what he read in Baron Bels's expression was fear.
Into Baron Bels's mind surged the terrifying memories of Go Jin-cheon and Yeon Hwi-garam. At last, with a sigh, he laid bare both the fearsome memories and the plan he had crafted.
"Hoo. The truth is..."