Chapter 203
Chapter 203
Iron Emperor — Chapter 203
Boom! Boom! Boom!
"All forces, forward!"
Mong Ryu-hwa's voice, amplified to ringing clarity, merged with the drumbeats that shook the very air. At the very front, Go Jin-cheon advanced with commanding presence, leading Gauri's finest elite—the Black Armored Ghost Cavalry. Behind them followed the newly formed Chalgap cavalry. And behind them came the lighter-equipped Light Armored Cavalry and Archer Cavalry.
Trailing after them were over several thousand wagons and the soldiers riding atop them. Supplies were divided here and there, and soldiers filled the empty spaces.
The troops on foot would rotate with the soldiers riding the wagons after marching a certain distance.
Though the force numbered only twenty-five thousand, its sheer majesty silenced everyone who beheld it. The people of Haian could only watch this immense tide with a mixture of unease and curiosity.
"They say they annihilated the Roselin army?"
"What about our kingdom? What's going to happen to us?"
"Looks like there won't be a war. They're just passing through quietly, after all."
The worried murmurs of the people carried here and there.
They cut through the Kingdom of Haian and, before long, reached the border.
As evening fell and the soldiers bustled about setting up camp, an unexpected visitor came to Go Jin-cheon.
"King Bera Han of the Kingdom of Haian has arrived."
"Hm?"
At Mong Ryu-hwa's report, Jin-cheon glanced around with a look of surprise. Yeon Hwi-garam, Eulji Buru, and the Eulji brothers also had their eyes wide open in astonishment.
"I will escort him in."
Hwi-garam gave a slight bow of his head toward Jin-cheon, then led Ryu-hwa outside.
A short while later, only two people entered the camp: King Bera Han and an elderly man who appeared to be a wizard.
As he stepped into the camp, King Bera Han's eyes fell upon a man seated with an air that bordered on arrogance. Shoulders spread to either side as though embracing the very land. Deep black eyes whose depths seemed impossible to fathom.
His lips, which held a trace of stubbornness, parted as he welcomed him.
"I am Go Jin-cheon, the Yeolje of Gauri."
The fact that he addressed him from a seated position forced King Bera Han to revise the impression he had formed at first sight. It was not arrogance—it was confidence. Hearing his voice, King Bera Han felt his own chest expand naturally.
"I am Bera Han, King of the Kingdom of Haian."
Unlike when he had first entered, King Bera Han showed a serene expression as he offered his greeting. Jin-cheon's lips curled into a smile as though he found this interesting. A soldier placed a chair before Jin-cheon.
"Please, sit."
Yeon Hwi-garam bowed his head to King Bera Han, gesturing to the seat.
Bera Han sat down facing Jin-cheon.
"I was grateful for that secret letter you sent last time."
Jin-cheon's casual, informal speech came naturally.
King Bera Han answered with an expression that showed he was untroubled by the informality.
"That was simply the best I could do."
"So it seemed."
When Jin-cheon agreed with his words, a bitter emotion spread across Bera Han's face. Then, abruptly, he pulled off a ring he had been wearing on one finger.
Vwoong.
Light flared from his body in an instant. Eulji Buru swiftly hefted his axe. But his movement was checked by Hwi-garam's restraint. After the fleeting flash of light passed, the group found themselves astonished yet again.
The light vanished—and Bera Han wore a bitter smile.
His hair was the same pitch-black as Go Jin-cheon's party, and his eyes, too, carried a black gleam that called to mind the depths of night.
"I greet a descendant of the Divine Bird."
Bera Han had risen from his seat and bowed at the waist, offering his respects to Jin-cheon once more. He poured into the gesture his prayer that they might become a new source of strength for the Haian Kingdom, now little more than a hollow shell tossed about by others, and his sincere hope that the legend would become reality.
Chapter 63 — Advance! Advance! Advance!
The return of King Alsein.
The resistance forces of South Roselin, who had waged an unceasing struggle, began rallying beneath his banner.
The sacred state of Gauri had shattered the great army of North Roselin.
Its name alone was more than enough to send tremors across all of Roselin.
Roselin had drained and expended its main forces for a reckless war effort. It no longer possessed the strength to stop the advancing allied army of Gauri and South Roselin. Even the soldiers they had left had been scattered across the regions to maintain public order, leaving them no choice but to be defeated piecemeal, one after another.
"Defend this place at all costs!"
"Do not fall back!"
The fortifications that had been half-destroyed in the last war had not been touched. They had poured enormous war funds into the war against Gauri before even beginning to repair the damage.
Naturally, the ruined walls could not possibly still be standing sound.
Count Krian, the North Roselin governor of South Roselin charged with defending the former South Roselin capital, was on the verge of losing his mind.
The force he had scraped together numbered twenty-five thousand, but that was exactly what it was—a force scraped together from wherever he could find men. Worse still, soldiers of South Roselin origin were fleeing practically every other day. Under these conditions, war could not be conducted properly.
"The northern wall has been breached!"
"Send the reserves!"
"The reserves have already been thrown entirely into the line! At this rate, the entire defensive line will collapse!"
"Guh."
A groan escaped Count Krian's lips.
The enemy had caught them completely off guard.
Normally, to conduct a campaign, the orthodox approach was to capture castles as you advanced. That was the only way to secure your rear and ease supply problems. But the Gauri-Roselin allied army had advanced in a straight line directly toward the capital.
Naturally, garrisons in the bypassed regions sortied to strike their rear—only to fall into yet another trap. The Roselin Restoration Army, centered on Baron Bels, emerged as though by prior arrangement and occupied the emptied castles.
"It was a mistake to turn our swords against Gauri in the first place."
Count Krian ground his teeth at the incompetence of the nobles.
Of course, it was not really a matter of incompetence. The cause of their defeat was simply that they had not understood their opponent in detail. Had they been capable of conquering Gauri, the current outcome would not have come to pass.
"The militia in the northern district has risen in rebellion!"
"The southern converts!"
Fire flashed in Count Krian's eyes.
The so-called militia was a hastily assembled force made up of the able-bodied men of the capital. Never having trusted them from the start, he had positioned them in the most dangerous spot merely to bolster headcount. And now, at this moment when the northern defensive line was on the verge of breaking, they had turned their swords on him.
"The knights will follow me! We will suppress the northern militia. If this spreads, the trouble will multiply."
"Yes, sir!"
"Move!"
Count Krian's steps carried him away with urgent speed.
Rumble-rumble-rumble-rumble!
Fifty-odd horsemen cut across the capital city, thick with smoke on all sides and ringing with screams. They were Count Krian and his personal knight order.
"Ride faster!"
"Hya!"
Each rider lashed his horse, pushing to greater speed. Now and then there were old women and children who had come out with their belongings, trying to flee, but beneath the hooves of the cavalry they were torn apart and reduced to chunks of meat. There was no time to spare them—nor any desire to let them dodge.
Wasn't the rebellion of a militia made up of South Roselin troops one of the very reasons for this action?
When some are heading into a battle where they may die, watching others try to run—it was easy to fall into the same madness that had seized these riders. What they were trying to defend was not the people of South Roselin. It was only the land itself, the capital.
"Kwaaagh!"
"Aagh! Run!"
As they galloped closer to the northern wall, the screams echoing around them grew louder. Count Krian could sense, even more keenly than expected, how badly the situation had deteriorated. That was because the soldiers he saw falling before his eyes wore the uniforms of North Roselin regulars.
"Where is Baron Foein?!"
Arriving on the battlefield, Count Krian threw the question at a knight who came running toward him clad in blood-soaked armor.
"Huff, huff. He is holding back the enemy assault unit that broke through the wall."
"Enemy troops have already broken through?!"
"Ugh, they are no mere vanguard. They are devils!"
The words were not ones that should have come from a knight.
Count Krian met the knight's terror-stricken eyes, frowned, and roared.
"You call yourself a knight?! Gather the troops at once and push forward to subdue the militia! Have Baronet Beauon take ten knights and stamp them out first."
"Yes, at on—"
"Kyaaaaaaa!"
Before Baronet Beauon could finish his answer, a long, tearing scream hurtled down from the sky to the ground.
"What—!"
Count Krian instinctively raised his head to look toward the source of the scream. In that same instant, he was forced to duck sharply down.
Thud.
"Damn it!"
Count Krian whipped his head around with a flinch at the heavy, dull thud behind him—the object had barely missed him. But what seized him was not relief at having escaped danger. It was the dreadful sensation of recognizing the owner of the object that had slammed into the ground, and the dawning horror that came with it.
"Baron Foein..."
Both arms were shredded as though they were rags, grotesquely twisted. His armor had been torn to ribbons. Only his long, trailing intestines and spinal column had barely held his upper and lower body together.
The sheer brutality of the sight froze everyone speechless for a moment. Then the knight who had made the earlier report opened his mouth in a trembling voice.
"Th-that devil... he finally..."
What filled his words was not fury at his commander's death, but terror of the being who had done such a thing to him.
"Just what kind of man is he...."
Count Krian could not press the knight further in the face of such excessive fear. His question came out dazed and faltering. But even without an answer from the knight, the one who had reduced Baron Foein to a shredded rag and hurled him through the air soon revealed himself.
THOOOM!
"Wh-what is that?!"
Kee-hee-hee-heeng!
Neeeigh!
The roar that rang out long and low was steeped in killing intent.
The horse Count Krian was riding—and every horse carrying a knight—all let out whinnies of raw terror.
Count Krian spun his head reflexively toward the source of the roar. His eyes locked onto a giant of a man astride an enormous saber-tooth tiger atop the half-shattered wall, clutching a pitch-black Mukbit Bong.
The hulking man was shouting something unintelligible. As he spurred his saber-tooth tiger down the wall with the speed of lightning, Count Krian felt it by instinct alone.
The one that monstrous man was targeting—was himself.