Shadows Over the Canyons
Deep in the night.
In the command tent of the Helikel Gorge outpost, two men sat across from one another with grave expressions.
The thick wooden table was covered with a map, its surface gently illuminated by the flickering light of candles.
Legion Commander Velkain and General Brentar, who had brought the reinforcements.
They were continuing their final briefing before the march that was to begin soon.
“The analysis of the enemy plain is complete. I had thought it nothing more than ordinary, unremarkable ground… yet had we set out on such a path, we would have faced a grave crisis from the very start.”
Velkain’s finger traced a single point on the map.
What appeared to be a shallow stream was, in truth, a deep swamp, and beneath the tall grasses lay a spot where one must consider the enemy’s ambush.
Upon hearing this, Brentar nodded.
“If the scouts had failed in their mission… we would have paid a heavy price from the outset. No matter how many troops we had, an ambush in the darkness would have left us helpless.”
At those words, Velkain crossed his arms and nodded again.
His cold gaze remained fixed on the map.
A heavy silence settled for a moment, yet Velkain spoke next.
“Nevertheless, now that we know these facts, we can prepare adequately. What remains… is only the march we have been waiting for.”
These words struck both men like a thunderbolt.
At last we stood before the true meaning of the Empire’s northern border, on the threshold of reclaiming the Kar tribes’ territory and expanding the Empire’s lands.
“If we fully control this northern region, the Empire will obtain resources on a scale never before seen.”
And those resources would be used solely for the Empire’s development, becoming the very power that would forge an even stronger Empire.
Velkain’s eyes flashed.
“Beginning such a historic moment… how glorious it is.”
“I am likewise honored to march with you, Legion Commander Velkain. To stand at the vanguard of the moment when the Empire’s history is rewritten… I feel pride in it.”
And Brentar paused briefly before adding with eyes burning with resolve.
“This war… will be won without fail.”
“Trust me, General Brentar.”
Brentar rose from his seat and straightened the front of his uniform.
Even his thick northern greatcoat could not fully conceal his sturdy frame, and his gaze burned with masculine determination.
As Brentar turned to leave, Velkain alone remained, rising from his chair to gaze out into the darkness beyond the window.
Already, far off, the fortress of Belikezel seemed visible.
Without realizing it, Velkain’s hand reached toward it, fingers closing in the air as though grasping the ramparts.
“…The moment the Empire’s blade strikes.”
Velkain’s eyes stared forward with calm yet chilling precision, colder than the northern blizzard.
“Every corner of the north will kneel beneath the Empire’s banner.”
His words fell like a hammer, heavy and final, in the command tent.
Tomorrow, at last.
The historic first step was about to begin.
Velkain forced down his excitement and headed toward his tent.
Yet at dawn the next morning.
Before the sun had even risen, murmurs and uneasy tension spread through every corner of the camp.
The soldiers’ faces were pale, their eyes filled with fear and trembling.
Soon someone ran to fling open Velkain’s tent flap.
“Commander… something terrible has happened…!”
It was his aide, Claw.
Claw’s face was flushed, a strange mix of confusion and alarm on it.
“What is the matter?”
Velkain looked at him with heavy eyes.
Claw’s lips quivered as he finally answered.
“General Brentar… he is dead.”
* * *
In the darkest corner of Helikel Gorge, where even the faintest light could not reach.
From behind an old tent in the pitch-blackness, a man’s voice emerged.
“…Remember this: our single purpose is to overturn the board that has been drawn and create a new one to our advantage.”
They had entered the Helikel Gorge outpost with the reinforcements, yet their true mission was entirely different.
The man who had spoken received a crooked smile from the figure opposite him, hidden beneath the robe.
“In that case, half the work is already done. With the commander dead, how could we fail to march?”
Brentar.
One of the figures who had greatly irritated the First Prince’s faction.
He possessed both talent and loyalty that made him nearly impossible to sway by persuasion.
For that very reason, his death would strike them harder than anything else.
Perhaps the entire picture they had drawn was about to collapse without a trace.
At that moment the remaining man spoke in a low voice.
“The first operation has only just begun. We must move on to the next at once.”
“With no commander, how are we to lead the troops on the march?”
“We cannot delay the departure any longer, so we must find a suitable replacement at once… yet there is only one answer.”
The man who possessed a reputation and ability equal to Brentar’s.
And only one person among them could reach this place in time.
Namely, General Ulgrate of the Second Prince’s faction.
“If General Ulgrate arrives, this war will be wholly the Second Prince’s achievement. Hold firm until then.”
The first speaker continued in a heavy voice.
The first piece had been placed perfectly.
*The opponent is Velkain…*
That man was not supposed to hold out.
If he were anyone else, he might have acted contrary to their predictions.
But no matter what he did, it could not change the current flow.
*Let us see how you thrash about, Legion Commander.*
Finally, the three men’s eyes vanished into the darkness, and silence fell.
And at the same moment, inside Velkain’s tent.
Claw looked at Velkain with an unusually troubled expression.
“…Commander, you must decide now.”
The candlelight flickered wildly, casting long shadows that moved in the same direction.
Claw’s cautious words were laced with urgency.
Yet Velkain remained silent, thinking deeply despite the pressure.
With the commander lost… the march was impossible.
In the end, the only solution was to locate another commander of the same caliber as the late General Brentar.
A request to the central command would be processed quickly.
The northern advance from Helikel Canyon was the Empire’s most pressing matter at present.
Yet…
*Among those who meet the condition, the fastest is… General Ulgrate.*
At that instant Velkain’s brow furrowed deeply.
Why had Brentar been assassinated at exactly this moment.
What did those who drove him to death hope to gain.
“Claw.”
“Chief Aide, Claw.”
Claw swallowed hard and replied.
Because this was the expression Velkain had rarely shown him despite all the time they had served together.
And precisely at such moments.
“…Commander.”
He would inevitably press for an unreasonable… and reckless course of action.
Claw called out to him in a voice thick with anxiety.
But Velkain, as though he had already decided, met his gaze.
“How absurd.”
Velkain’s eyes gleamed sharply in the candlelight.
Yet unlike his eyes, the corners of his mouth curved into a faint smile.
Claw knew what that smile meant.
It was not the smile he knew.
Velkain continued.
“We had searched and searched, thinking we had found every last trace… yet where, exactly, are these damned threads still being woven from?”
If one had to pinpoint the cause, it would be the reinforcements who had joined them this time.
He wanted to tear them apart with his bare hands right now.
“…Not now. If we delay, they will simply move as they wish.”
“What will you do?”
Claw’s question made Velkain rise from his seat.
“At such a historic and noble moment, to play such petty games.”
Velkain muttered as though biting the words off.
Then, looking at Claw.
“As planned, we march at dawn tomorrow. Prepare the troops.”
“There is no commander we can lead the forces with.”
“I am here, Chief Aide.”
“…Sir?”
Claw’s eyes widened in alarm.
“Com-Commander…!”
Claw called out urgently.
But Velkain spoke to him with perfect composure.
“I will lead the charge myself.”
As soon as those words left his mouth, Claw’s eyes began to shake violently.
* * *
As the dawn chill settled, the soldiers hurried to line up.
A tense atmosphere.
Informed that they would march soon, the soldiers forced their worried expressions into place at their positions.
More than thirty thousand men, an enormous army.
The troops gathered before the Helikel Gorge outpost possessed an awe-inspiring grandeur equal to their scale.
Yet in the very center.
Credum, the assassin who had slain General Brentar, stared at the ranks with an expressionless face.
*…Even though we cannot march, why perform this farce?*
How could an army without a commander possibly advance.
Knowing the shabby performance, Credum raised the corners of his mouth in mockery and lowered his head.
On the surface he hid everything, but the high-ranking officers close to Brentar already knew of the general’s death.
*Well, if the general’s death were announced at once, the army’s morale would collapse to the bottom; this could be one way of dealing with it.*
But could one hide the sky beneath one’s palm?
Such a pitiful performance would only further crush the soldiers’ morale when the truth finally came to light.
Thus Credum waited for the obvious farce to end.
But then.
Thud, thud, thud.
Clear, echoing hoofbeats sounded across the quiet northern plain, as though time itself had frozen.
Together with them, one man stepped forward from the soldiers’ ranks.
His build was twice that of an ordinary soldier, and beneath his lowered helmet dark determination flashed.
At a glance one knew.
He was.
“The Ogre of Benhard.”
The overall commander of the north, Velkain.
And when the mounted Velkain stood before the soldiers, the men could not hide their surprise.
“Why is the commander…?”
“Where is General Brentar?”
A few murmurs rose.
At that moment Claw shouted loudly.
“Silence!”
The voice, infused with power, echoed across the ranks, and the soldiers immediately shut their mouths and stared at the Velkain before them.
And together with them, Arteon’s eyes trembled slightly.
“Impossible.”
As he muttered.
“Last night… something unfortunate occurred.”
Velkain, who had stepped forward, spoke quietly.
And as his words continued.
“AAAAAAAHHH!”
With a thunderous roar, the soldiers’ morale exploded.