Chapter 167
Chapter 167
The Iron Emperor — Chapter 167
Chapter 51: South Roselin Ablaze
Where grain should have stood, only withered weeds rose sparsely. The eyes that should have held life had lost all focus. A long, winding column of people...
Thud.
A figure slumped to one side of the column, collapsing like a marionette with its strings cut, raising dust as it rolled across the ground.
"Gr-grandfather!"
A child whose face was caked with grime burst into tears and grabbed the fallen figure, shaking him. The old man's trembling lips parted in a faint smile.
"I'll... follow soon. Go on... ahead."
The voice was feeble, each word wrung from a dying body, utterly drained of life.
His unfocused eyes shifted toward a young woman watching him meet his end from the other side.
"My grandchild..."
Even at that plea, heavy with the old man's final hope, the woman could not bring herself to reach out. She simply turned her head away, averted her eyes, and pulled her own child onward, step by step.
As if such scenes were commonplace, people wrung out the last of their strength and walked past the child who clung to a grandfather growing cold, step by step.
The child left with the old man's corpse would likely become food for beasts and vanish.
They knew that. And yet... people kept moving, trying to extend their own lives even a little longer.
The old man and the child might well be their own future. They knew it perfectly well. To be near death. To walk past death.
That... is war.
"Your Majesty..."
King Alsein watched from the column as his people broke away and lay down upon the earth to return to dust.
He had no more tears to shed.
"I understand. Let us go."
Led by his escort knights who urged the march forward, King Alsein moved on as his horse walked.
The offensive by North Roselin, riding on the Holy Empire's power, had punched a hole in one flank. That hole was enough to collapse the great levee that was South Roselin.
Defeat after defeat.
Even the War God of the East could not keep up against such relentless assaults.
North Roselin changed its strategy in the wake of consecutive defeats. It broadened its front, pressing in from every direction.
But North Roselin lacked the forces to sustain a front that wide. Yet, defying all expectations, it pressed on and pressed hard for an extended period. In the end, the Holy Empire's colossal power had aided them once again.
"A little further, and Altareng Fortress will appear."
"I see."
The face of Marquis Helios Baikal, always so unshakable, was heavy with exhaustion. Somehow that made him look more human to King Alsein.
'You must go!'
A blood-soaked cry.
'Where exactly am I supposed to go!'
An unyielding voice.
King Alsein, who had stubbornly insisted he would defend the provisional capital.
'You must go, so you can rise again!'
The old noble Marquis Terican, trying to send him away.
In the end, King Alsein departed, and for the first time in decades, Marquis Terican donned his own armor again. Someone had to stay with the soldiers and hold back the enemy.
'Heh heh. I shall stretch my limbs a little after thirty years, Your Majesty.'
Unsteady in his armor, yet never losing his smile—one of the two pillars remaining in South Roselin was broken that day.
The king had gone, and his loyal servant had died. But Alsein knew what the throne demanded.
It had been a single day of learning, but for King Alsein that one day had become the driving force that let him endure until now.
'Go Jin-cheon.'
A man who gave faith like steel.
King Alsein wanted to become such a man. Yet the ideal and reality were different. That man was unflinching, but he himself was not. It pained him deeply, it left him full of regret, and it grew into a bitter longing.
Bwoo-wooo!
In the distance, the horn blast of Altareng Fortress welcoming King Alsein echoed out. A sound welcoming a king who had walked here over the corpses of his subjects...
The refugees who had fled with King Alsein shuffled their exhausted bodies into the tents prepared inside Altareng Fortress ahead of time.
For people steeped in hunger and fatigue, the meal provided was a mysterious soup whose main ingredient was plant roots, and two pieces of biscuit each.
Yet once the warm liquid filled their bellies, the faces of those who had come so far regained a look of fullness for the first time in a long while. And they nibbled the two remaining biscuits little by little... very little by little, with eyes that feared the biscuits might vanish at any moment.
Even while eating such meager fare, no one complained. The sights they had witnessed along the way were of people who had starved to death without even a sip of this root-based soup.
They knew full well that this pitiful food was the only thing keeping them alive.
A quiet night.
Perhaps from the exhaustion of the long journey, no one stirred except the soldiers standing watch atop the fortress walls.
As he stood by the window and gazed sorrowfully upon that scene, Marquis Helios Baikal approached King Pamilion Alsein Roselin and spoke quietly.
"It is late. You should rest."
"...."
Even at Marquis Baikal's words, the king only continued to watch the darkness outside in silence.
How long had it been?
From King Alsein, who had not moved a muscle as if turned to stone, a quiet voice emerged.
"Marquis Baikal."
"Yes."
Marquis Baikal answered calmly.
"This war..."
Stillness.
"Is there any hope?"
The night was far too still.
"...."
Marquis Baikal could give no answer to the king's question.
He was an honest man.
The night passed, utterly still, as though all life had been extinguished.
Bwoo-woo-woo!
King Alsein awoke to a long horn blast. The skin beneath his eyes was dark, likely from exhaustion.
Rising from his bed, King Alsein hurried to the window. The horn blast sounded too distant.
Bwoo-woo! Bwoo-woo! Bwoo-woo-woo!
Three blasts in succession.
Still hearing the horn from afar, King Alsein's eyes trembled as he searched for the source.
In truth, there was no need to search. Far away, an advancing tide of North Roselin soldiers was visible against the dark.
Their horn blasts rolling ahead of them, the North Roselin troops pressed into view.
"Your Majesty Alsein!"
A guard knight burst into the king's bedroom to report the enemy's appearance, but King Alsein had already seen it with his own eyes.
It meant that Marquis Terican, who had bought the king time to flee, had finally fallen.
"Prepare my armor!"
The command fell from King Alsein's lips, carrying the clear air of youth.
There was no further ground to retreat to. If even this fortress fell, only the sea would remain. And once at sea, where could they go?
King Alsein, clad in splendid silver full plate armor, headed for the fortress wall.
"Pile more stones!"
"Move faster! Do you want to die without even a fight!"
The fortress bustled with preparations to repel the enemy.
Not only the soldiers but even the people, wretched as they looked, found ways to help as they could.
At that grim resolve, King Alsein hardened his own heart and climbed the stairs toward the wall.
"Your Majesty, this position is dangerous."
The moment the king appeared atop the fortress wall, Marquis Baikal rushed over.
Though Marquis Baikal was worried, King Alsein quietly raised a hand to stop him and approached a watchtower with a clear view of the enemy camp.
"Fewer than I expected."
The king spoke evenly, and Marquis Baikal lowered his head in reply.
"It seems the vanguard has arrived first."
"Is that so..."
Even if it was only the vanguard, the numbers were sufficient to besiege the fortress. At a glance, they appeared to be at least twenty thousand strong.
The fortress garrison numbered eight thousand. Including the common people, they exceeded fifty thousand, but it would be absurd to arm the starving refugees with swords.
"Huh!"
The court wizard who had been scanning the enemy widened his eyes. He too showed clear signs of fatigue on his face from the long campaign.
After a brief, choked cry, the court wizard approached King Alsein and spoke in a trembling voice.
"Y-Your Majesty."
"Sir Bercel, speak."
Court Wizard Bercel hesitated briefly at the king's command, then shut his eyes with a devastated expression and formed a hand seal.
"Mirror Image!"
A mirror reflecting the enemy camp appeared before the king in the air.
"Those... those bastards worse than dogs!"
A curse steeped in pure rage burst from King Alsein's lips.
The image showed corpses impaled on long poles, stripped naked, run through from the anus to the top of the skull.
At the very front of those bodies, the skeletal corpse of Marquis Terican was displayed as a trophy.
"How dare they desecrate the body of a kingdom's chief minister in such a fashion! Have they forgotten even the most basic decency!"
In the king's fiery anger, a bitter sorrow was clear. Marquis Baikal, too, hung his head with a devastated expression.
Bwoo-woo-woo!
"The enemy is advancing!"
The horn blast rang out, and the North Roselin camp began to move.
"It seems they intend to give us no time to rest."
"Yes, come! I'll bury every last one of you right here!"
Flames kindled in King Alsein's eyes.
Watching twenty thousand soldiers approach in an ordered formation, the defenders of Altareng Fortress felt the crushing weight bearing down on them. The enemy's composure kept their nerves on edge.
"Steady! Catapults—prepare to fire and await my command!"
At Marquis Baikal's shout, the catapults were drawn back in unison.
Then Baron Silen Bels, who had finished his preparations below and climbed up, shouted to the archers.
"Archers—stay pressed against the wall until the catapult attack ends! A single step backward will be treated as breach of military discipline!"
As Baron Bels's order fell, the archers flattened themselves tightly against the wall. That was when the observers in the watchtower cried out.
"They're within range!"
In the slowly advancing North Roselin formation, catapults revealed themselves. Then they began to pick up speed.
"We must stop their catapults before they close in! Fire!"
Marquis Baikal gave the order to the catapult crews, and swords flashed as they cut the drawn ropes.
Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh!
Wind parted as boulders soared into the air. Even as the rocks flew, the North Roselin forces continued to haul and push their own catapults forward to reach firing range.
Having spent their momentum, the boulders began to drop toward the earth.
CRASH-CRASH-CRASH!
The ground shook as the stones crashed down, and soldiers who had not managed to dodge were smashed to pulp. The distance had been slightly off, and the enemy damage appeared modest compared to the rocks thrown.
"Reload!"
"Ryaaa!"
Baron Bels took over command of the catapults and barked the order, and the soldiers hauling the catapults worked furiously to load more stones.
"Fire the moment you're ready! The more shots we get off, the better we can blunt their attack!"
WHOOSH!
As Baron Bels shouted, more rocks were launched. And after them, still more rocks flew from the other catapults.
"Direct hits! Three of the enemy's ten catapults took hits."
The observer's hopeful voice rang out. Fortunately, the fortress had been stocked with a considerable number of catapults.
"Another hit!"
As if heaven itself were aiding them, another two enemy catapults collapsed under the barrage. But the enemy was not simply taking the blows.
"Enemy catapults have fired!"
"Everyone against the wall!"
The commanders leaned against the wall and shouted the warning, and the soldiers desperately pressed themselves flat. Then the projectiles from the North Roselin catapults began their descent.
"Dammit! It's not boulders!"
Baron Bels ground his teeth and shouted.
RATTLE-RATTLE-RATTLE!
What rained down was pebbles slightly larger than a grown man's fist. For a volley from only five catapults, the volume of pebbles was immense.
Baron Bels, who had been ducking his head, yelled to Marquis Baikal.
"They mean to push straight in as they are!"
"Switch our loads as well—drop the boulders and switch to gravel!"
The North Roselin catapults, which had been expected to breach the walls first, had instead begun launching pebbles to directly strike the defenders inside the fortress.
CRUNCH!
"Jerry!"
"Kwaaak!"
Even if they were only pebbles, the force of stones traversing such a long distance was enough to burst a loading soldier's skull clean through.
Soldiers who had not anticipated this were struck in the body and collapsed, screaming.
"Fire, quickly!"
While the order was being given, the shieldbearers of North Roselin launched their charge at the fore. They sprinted forward carrying only shields larger than their own bodies.