Chapter 346
Chapter 346
Iron Emperor — Chapter 346
"Mobilize every Roselin warship and hunt down every last vessel of the Holy Empire fleet that escaped."
King Alsein cried out boldly. The Holy Empire forces would have to pass through that area anyway if they intended to return. Had they been unaware, they might have let them pass; now that they knew, they could not simply let them go unmolested.
"As a countermeasure for the ground forces, I believe the critical point is to move our troops more actively than before and divert the Holy Empire's attention elsewhere."
When Duke Ken of the Marlon Kingdom spoke confidently while pointing at the map, the other generals nodded.
Though the alliance possessed over two hundred fifty thousand troops, there remained a qualitative gap, and the Holy Empire still had the capacity to raise even greater numbers.
On top of that, the Transcendents—the pride of the Empire—still numbered three. Including the severely wounded Marquis Luchia made four.
"I think it would be best to pack up."
The faces of the assembled generals momentarily crumpled. Regardless of their expressions, Yeon Hwi-garam, having already interjected, continued speaking.
"The longer the war between the empires continues, the more it favors us. If, by the worst chance, we happen to irritate the Empire, the Holy Empire could harden its resolve and momentarily concentrate its forces to shatter us first. That is a capability the Empire still possesses."
"But pack up, you say?"
"Hmm."
When the allied leaders voiced their perplexed questions at Hwi-garam's remark and Jin-cheon nodded, they sank back into unease, and that unease soon became reality.
"The Gauri forces will pack up. And, of course, the other three kingdoms' units will also reorganize and pull back one step from the front line."
"Excuse me?"
The contrast was stark: the allied leaders' blank, uncomprehending expressions and Jin-cheon's demeanor, which bordered on curtness.
Whenever he made such a judgment, the more detailed explanation always fell to Hwi-garam. After a short while, all their faces turned ashen. Then they each returned to their own barracks.
With the results of this council left in abeyance...
* * *
RRRRUMBLE.
A small noise sounded as a section of wall rose upward. What appeared was a stairway that looked deep. Emperor Millior stepped toward the dark stairs. As soon as he entered, magic lamps equipped with detection functions illuminated sequentially.
Tup, tup, tup.
Before Emperor Millior, who walked alone with no attendants, an enormous wall surface eventually came into view.
A colossal mural was grandly situated there, and beside it, considerably old-looking books were neatly arranged on a bookshelf. Though they were clearly ancient, they appeared far too shabby to be the personal archival collection of an emperor.
Millior halted before the huge wall.
"Heh."
A twisted laugh forced its way from the corner of his mouth.
The vast mural painted on the wall vividly portrayed the results wrought by the twisted desires of the Holy Empire's ancestors, and the fear that remained.
A truth now nearly forgotten.
The ancient people.
It referred to those who had imparted to humanity the knowledge to stand on their own. In one section of the mural, such beings were being impaled on stakes and burned alive.
When the ancients raged, no one could escape their fury. But greed had ultimately driven them out. No—it had made them leave. Though, of course, some had remained.
They were the greedy among the ancients—another faction whose help had been crucial in driving the other ancients away.
Their descendants were Haian.
Thereafter, just as they had betrayed, Haian was itself betrayed by the Three Continental Kingdoms, leaving only its name behind. The mural depicted it. That legend was called the Season of Depravity.
This depravity had been thoroughly dressed up over time, recast into a grand epic of heroes who drove out the Demon Tribe, and Millior, too, had grown up hearing and reading that epic.
Yet when he ascended the imperial throne and entered this place—opened only to successive emperors—the shock had been beyond words.
Pride.
The fact that his pride in the empire as the strongest on the continent was born of betrayal came as a shock to Millior. And he came to learn one more truth.
That the world judges by results.
That history is whatever the victor chooses to fabricate.
From that moment, Millior accumulated power even more relentlessly. Now he meant to write a new history for the continent. Yet, by cruel coincidence, an existence called Gauri had appeared as if dropped from the sky.
A phrase caught his eye: the one who would punish the traitors. The reason this truth was passed down in secret to successive emperors was likely so they would always remain vigilant. Thus, the demon hunts that occasionally appeared in the annals were probably a result.
"Even so... a mere firefly."
Millior's eyes glinted coldly, then he slowly exited the stone chamber. On the mural behind him, a three-legged bird flew across the sun.
* * *
Every time the moonlit waves shattered into fragments against the rocks, white foam rose. Perhaps because it was a sea breeze, the wind was fierce. Amid the wind that whipped his hair about without a moment's rest, Gerard took a swig of strong rum.
"Give me a sip, won't you."
Fleet Commander Jang Bogo, who had approached unseen, flopped down and extended a hand. Taking the rum, he tilted it to his mouth and gulped it down like water, then wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
"Kheuuh."
Rum had originally been a cheap, harsh liquor drunk by sailors, so its bitterness came as no surprise.
"When we headed out this time, I'd meant to have a bout with him. Damn it."
Whether Bogo had heard Gerard's muttering or not, he let out a small chuckle and picked up the thread of his words.
"He might have known in advance and avoided it."
"Hell."
To Gerard, Eulji Buru was someone who left more regret than deep longing. He had almost nothing but memories of being tormented, of being beaten under the pretext of sparring. Even so, his chest still ached.
"Word's come from home."
Bogo, who had taken another swig of rum, spoke while looking out at the sea.
Gerard took the bottle back from Bogo and drained the last drop into his mouth before asking.
"What does it say?"
"They say the combined imperial fleet will likely set out soon. We’re to follow at a suitable distance, watch the Holy Empire and the Empire Coalition fight, and pick up anything worth scavenging."
Gerard frowned at Bogo's words and asked again.
"Is that really it?"
"Of course not."
"Then?"
Jang Bogo met Gerard’s questioning gaze and answered.
"When the time comes, they'll send word. Then we're to raise the flag and do as we please—whether that means stripping every ship bare or driving them straight into the Empire."
"......."
It was an irresponsible order, but to Gerard, it was the most enjoyable order of all. He stared at the empty bottle for a moment, then hurled it far out to sea and turned around.
"Effective tomorrow, double the watch. No more training. Rest is just as important if we're going to fight."
"Understood. Though, do you actually have a plan in mind?"
As Bogo stood up, dusting off his backside, he asked with a curious look. Gerard glared in the direction of the Holy Empire and growled.
"I'm going to hunt down the bastards who made me a loser my whole life."
"Pfft."
"Don't laugh. It's not about revenge or anything like that."
"Yeah, yeah."
When Gerard snapped at him again, Bogo simply gave a small bow as if to say he understood, then slowly moved off into the distance.
SHRING.
The sword Gerard drew caught the moonlight and hummed low.
* * *
Everywhere, soldiers were packing gear and dismantling the long-established barrack camps.
One might have expected smiles on the soldiers' faces after hearing they were leaving the battlefield, yet they were all silently busy packing. If anything, they looked gloomy.
This appearance was most pronounced among the Gauri soldiers. The bloody battle at Gaemun Mountain Fortress had already become widely known.
The glorious feat of stopping a legion led by a Master of the Holy Empire, and the tragedy that only a single man had survived that battle—these weighed heavy on one side of the soldiers' hearts.
Above all, news that someone like Eulji Buru had fallen in battle came as a shock to the soldiers.
Soldiers from Roselin, Haian, and the Marlon Kingdom merely murmured among themselves about how remarkable it was that they had held off the Holy Empire. The Gauri soldiers were different.
The troops currently on the front line, in particular, ranged from veterans who had been fighting since the first war to true elites hardened by real combat. What they always saw in battle were the commanders at the vanguard, the first to clash with the enemy. The fact that one of the brightest among them had been killed in action was a shock. It was a fact they could never have imagined.
"Damn it."
"What're you doing, not packing?"
One soldier, in the middle of packing, heaved his gear aside with a rough toss and stood up, as if angry about something.
"I don't know what the hell we're even doing right now."
"What do you mean?"
A soldier who appeared to have finished packing his own gear and was fiddling with odds and ends cocked his head and asked. At the sight, the soldier who had been lamenting spat out a word, his ire rising.
"Hans! Doesn't this piss you off?"
"Ben, what've you got to be upset about?"
Seeing Hans roll his eyes as if he truly had no idea, Ben, seemingly incredulous, added another remark.
"You're honestly fine with the decision to pull back from here?"
At Ben's frustrated outburst, Hans finally caught on. He chuckled softly and muttered.
"Well, we've got more ways to stay alive, and not fighting's a good thing, right?"
"What did you say?"
At Hans's muttering, which sounded almost grateful, Ben's face flushed red. Realizing he was angry, Hans smiled his good-natured smile and patted him on the shoulder.
"Hey, why get so worked up? Sure, it's a shame, but honestly, the fact we've pushed the war with the Empire this far is already an achievement. They say we even pushed them back at Gaemun Mountain Fortress, so Command will probably settle a peace on decent terms. The dead are tragic, sure, but still."
Watching Hans voice his own thoughts, Ben felt inwardly indignant, yet part of him thought it sounded right at a glance, and he let out only a deep sigh.
"Sorry I didn't die, I guess."
At the icy voice that sounded from behind, Hans started violently and spun around. There stood Avilrun, his hands wrapped in bandages.
"Ah, Avilrun!"
"You bastard! You're alive!"
The moment Avilrun appeared, his comrades rushed over and crowded around him. He had been separated from them after Buru took him away and had only now reunited with them.
Despite his comrades' joy, only coldness radiated from Avilrun's face.
"That's not what I meant by what I said earlier, you know!"
Realizing why Avilrun was angry, Hans threw an arm around his shoulder and treated him warmly.
"Those they sent back so they could live rode their horses straight into an army of tens of thousands and were cut down and fell..."
"What?"
Avilrun spoke in a voice so somber it was almost bleak. Hans, who had an arm around his shoulder, and the soldiers who had gathered around him happily all froze for a moment.
"Men who'd barely finished basic training charged straight into them, even when enemy weapons were embedded in their own bodies..."
"...Avilrun."