Chapter 353
Chapter 353
The Iron Emperor — Chapter 353
Unlike the other barracks, the Holy Empire's splendid command tent held two figures who radiated immense presence.
One was Marquis Kenicle of the South, commander of the Southern Army Corps and one of the Ten Masters of the Continent. The other was Koyo Blamir, the Mercenary King, whose whereabouts had been unknown until now.
"What are the additional enemy troop estimates?"
As Marquis Kenicle, who had been listening to the report, raised an eyebrow and asked, the young knight standing rigidly at attention answered at once.
"They say that portion has yet to be precisely tallied. However, the estimate is at least one hundred thousand, though it is said they will not reach two hundred thousand."
"At a generous estimate, under five hundred thousand..."
"Keu-heut."
Along with the peculiar laugh, the dozens of scars carved into Blamir's face twitched.
As if the scars were etched not just on his face but across his entire body, large and small scars covered every part of him that was exposed beyond his clothes. That alone told the story of his ferocious life.
"Seems they've made up their minds."
At Blamir's remark, one corner of Marquis Kenicle's mouth curled upward.
"That's right. Made up their minds and gone mad."
"Keu-heu-heut."
At Marquis Kenicle's words, Blamir folded his arms and let out a low laugh. As if caught by the laughter, Marquis Kenicle burst into laughter of his own.
"You're dismissed."
At Marquis Kenicle's gesture as he laughed, the knight, who had been tense under the pressure of the two giants' presence, saluted and swiftly withdrew.
"Still, if they manage to mass five hundred thousand troops, it's bound to be a real headache."
"Exactly. Blamir, you'll have to deliver the welcoming greetings first."
"Keu-heut, just what I wanted, my friend."
At Blamir's answer, calling him friend without hesitation despite his rank as a marquis of the empire, Marquis Kenicle bared his teeth in a grin.
"Once this war is over, there will be no more need for you to wander as a wild man. Isn't that right?"
"Keu-heu-heut. You're right. I think I'll settle down now. I've roamed in accordance with our master's last wishes, but I'm tired of it."
"I suppose so. But thanks to our teacher, I've grown old in this stuffy post. Once you come in, it'll be my turn to roam a bit."
"Keu-heut, suit yourself."
Kenicle and Blamir.
The common thread between them was the same teacher. A secret known only to Emperor Millior and the two of them was about to be revealed to the world.
Mercenaries.
Every nation readily employs mercenaries as spies.
The reason is simple.
The existence of monsters, an enemy wholly unlike humans, creates a need for mercenaries. There is no place without mercenaries who deal with such monsters. And mercenaries go wherever they are needed. Because of this, mercenaries frequently cross borders. What's more, they can legally carry weapons.
In a word, there is no better cover identity for infiltrating an enemy nation without arousing suspicion than a mercenary.
Of course, precisely because mercenaries were so common, they were watched closely. The Mercenary King, however, was an exception to that danger. His long-standing neutrality had earned the empires' trust, making them think, “Surely not him.”
That was precisely why Blamir had been placed in this role. No matter how mighty the Holy Empire was, it could not fight two empires without preparation. And a hidden card the enemy knew nothing about could always prove decisive in victory or defeat.
That is the utility of a hidden card.
In that sense, Blamir was an exceptionally powerful trump card to have kept hidden.
Koyo Blamir, the Mercenary King, stood before soldiers in shabby gear and mercenaries dressed in a motley assortment of clothes. The soldiers clearly bore expressions of fear, each and every one.
Garments of thick cloth were the armor on which their lives depended, and the sharp spearheads mounted on sturdy-looking shafts were their best and last weapons.
In contrast, the disorderly-looking mercenaries were different. Of course, some mercenaries looked dazed now and then, but if you looked closely, mixed among them were mercenaries whose gazes were like blades.
That was Blamir's direct unit, hidden among the mercenaries. They were each strong enough to be called a Knight without exaggeration. A satisfied smile rose on Blamir's face as he looked at them.
To other eyes, of course, it would look ghastly. Blamir, with such a smile drawn on his face, was also wrapped in a shabby cloak. Beneath it rested armor tinged with a red hue. It was his armor, symbolizing blood. The old cloak concealed it.
"Form ranks!"
As a young knight on horseback rode back and forth, raising his voice, soldiers clutching spears in the foremost rank gathered with fearful eyes. Interspersed among them, as if by prior arrangement, soldiers carrying only large shields slipped in.
Looked at closely, they could be seen as large wooden planks rather than shields, but even that would greatly aid these soldiers' survival.
"The mercenary corps, take position behind the infantry!"
As other knights drove their horses forward, carrying flags to issue orders, the scattered mercenaries positioned themselves behind the infantry. Next, archers with bows swiftly ran up to stand on both flanks. Unlike the infantry or mercenaries, they were properly equipped, marking them as elite soldiers.
Even with the knights urging them on, it took a great deal of time for one hundred thousand troops to form ranks. The knights' movements, which had begun at early dawn, only ended around mid-morning. And even that was possible only because the troops had been grouped by unit.
Amid the arrayed soldiers, Marquis Kenicle rode forward on his horse. As he looked over the troops awaiting the order to advance, his eyes met Blamir's. Beneath his shabby disguise, Blamir's lips curled upward, baring white teeth.
He was smiling.
Marquis Kenicle returned a faint, nearly imperceptible smile, then nodded to Count Long Maiol, the nominal commander, and gave the order.
"March out."
"March ouuut!"
Unlike Marquis Kenicle's low voice, Count Maiol shouted the advance command in a booming voice so that all the assembled soldiers could hear.
Half the army encamped there—a great host of one hundred thousand—moved out to fight the opening battle.
The sound of horn trumpets, signaling the start of the Battle of Palancia Plains, the flashpoint that would decide the continent's fate, rang out across the gradually heating earth.
* * *
Bwoo! Bwoo-woo!
It was when the sun had climbed to the highest point in the sky that the hundred thousand soldiers, amid the sounding of horn trumpets from all directions, finished forming ranks and filling one stretch of the plain.
Greeting the Holy Empire's great army of one hundred thousand was, naturally, the combined force of the Slegian Maritime Empire and the Federal Empire.
Even as they faced the hundred thousand great host advancing in a black mass, the Empire Coalition's army did not waver in the slightest. And no wonder—in numbers alone, a force of one hundred fifty thousand, larger than the Holy Empire's, was arrayed in formation.
At its head, Duke Shuo of the Maritime Empire and Marquis Millium of the Federal Empire stood with ease.
"They must be itching for a fight."
"Ha-ha-ha, it certainly seems so."
As Duke Shuo spoke with a relaxed smile, Marquis Millium burst into laughter alongside him.
Their composure stemmed partly from confidence in their own troops, but also from the fact that the approaching Holy Empire forces looked shabby even to the naked eye.
"This will be easier than expected."
When Marquis Millium spoke in a confident voice, Duke Shuo nodded.
"Are they planning to use those men to buy time until their elite troops arrive...?"
"That must be it. Surely they don't intend to face us with troops in that state."
"Hu-hu-hu."
Victory was already written on their faces.
It may have been a hasty thought, but if you are on the attacking side, you wage war precisely because you have confidence in victory. In such a situation, when events unfold as you predicted, anyone would smile just as they were now.
A messenger raced from the Holy Empire camp to announce the start of battle.
Both sides had long since finished their preparations, but it seemed they meant to observe the formalities.
The moment the Holy Empire messenger returned to camp, horn trumpets sounded in rapid succession, and the hundred-thousand-strong host began to move slowly.
"Count Hail Selmier. Lead our opening battle."
At Marquis Millium's words, Count Selmier, of the Federal Empire, saluted and rode forward with a confident expression. Watching his back, Marquis Millium smiled with satisfaction.
"Oh-ho. Soon a new Master will appear in the Federal Empire."
"Ha-ha-ha, he is my most cherished disciple and subordinate."
At Duke Shuo's unsparing praise, Marquis Millium laughed loudly. His disciple was that much a source of pride to him. That was why he had arranged for him to lead the opening battle, where victory was expected.
In war, the commanders who lead the opening and closing battles are recorded in history, no matter what. Far more than in minor engagements along the way, winning the opening battle—especially the opening battle of a clash between great armies like this—would surely open a broad path to promotion.
The earth heated up, and the breaths of more than two hundred thousand human beings edged toward one another. Like predators stalking prey, the two masses of soldiers advanced one step at a time, unhurriedly.
"Don't break formation!"
"Keep your distance from the front, I said!"
The cries of the knights directed at the advancing soldiers continued without pause. They seemed more frantic about keeping the soldiers in line than about urging them to cut down the enemy before their eyes.
In truth, that was the correct approach. In combat between great armies numbering in the tens of thousands, especially on a vast plain like this, the side whose formation breaks apart is bound to collapse.
That is why the degree of training matters. The courage to keep formation and advance unshaken, even when the soldier beside you is struck by an arrow and goes flying, is crucial.
The side faithful to fundamentals is the side that wins wars.
Was that why?
The approaching Empire Coalition was also advancing slowly, careful not to break formation.
"Hoo-euk! Hoo-euk!"
The pupils of a soldier in the very front rank widened sharply.
He felt an oppressive weight, as if the wall of enemies spreading before his eyes was closing in on him alone.
"You dumb bastard, get a grip!"
"Huh-eok, huk. Ah, I got it."
Fortunately, seasoned soldiers were interspersed among the conscripts, and they managed, one way or another, to calm those who quickened their pace in excitement or slowed down, shrinking back, by snarling at them.
But unlike the vanguard, the eyes of the mercenaries following behind were like those of predators scanning for prey.
Woo-deuk, woo-deuk.
One mercenary cracked his neck left and right, loosening up as he advanced. Another craned his neck to gauge how far the enemy was.
Among them, Mercenary King Blamir slowly drew his greatsword, his eyes full of killing intent as he scanned the enemy camp.
"Kuk, found him."
As Blamir gave a triumphant laugh, killing intent surged from the mercenaries around him, moving in step like an escort in a fixed formation. Once the target was found, their mission was annihilation.
Burned into Blamir's eyes was Count Hail Selmier, clad in splendid armor and riding his horse in the middle of the enemy ranks.
Bwoo! Bwoo-woong!
When the two massive forces creeping along had drawn fairly close, horn trumpets sounded in unison from the Holy Empire side.
As though by agreement, the horn blasts sounded together, announcing the opening of the Battle of Palancia Plains.
"Quick march!"
"Quick maaarch!"
The soldiers' pace began to quicken.
"Keep formation, I said!"
As their pace quickened, the formation that had been so well kept until then fell apart. It was hardly easy for one hundred thousand troops to move quickly while maintaining a uniform formation.
As if their lack of training were visible to the eye, cracks began to appear little by little in the formation. It was a shoddy sight, markedly different from the disciplined group formations the Holy Empire was famous for.
Perhaps this sight gave the Empire Coalition confidence, for the approaching soldiers' demeanor was full of vigor. The closer they drew, the more they brimmed with energy, whereas the Holy Empire's formation was steadily cracking.
"Expendable goods, after all."
Mercenary King Koyo Blamir's brow furrowed. If the formation was already breaking down while some distance still remained from the enemy, there would be no saving them once they closed the distance.
"Charles."
"Yes."
At Blamir's call, the one beside him wearing robes approached. Unlike the others, his light attire protecting only the vital areas was the typical garb of a wizard.
"Tell that imbecile of a commander not to wait any longer—tell him to run."
"Now, you mean?"
"The idiots up front are expendable anyway. All that matters is that we can advance safely. Tell them to run!"
"Ah, understood!"
At Blamir's command, delivered low but laced with killing intent, the wizard shrank back and attempted a communication spell.
A moment later, Count Long Maiol, who had been riding his horse at the vanguard, turned his head in their direction with a slightly flustered expression, but he hesitated no further.
"All forces—charge!"