Hearts of Steel
The cold dawn air of Belikezel drifted gently over the hill.
The chill that had fallen through the night still clung, unmelted, to every blade of grass.
Yet soon the long rays of sunlight that had stretched beyond the battlefield began to slowly blanket the earth.
Arteon sat in silence, gazing down at the plain where the light was seeping in. Below him stretched the rows of tents shared with his soldiers; beyond them lay the battlefield where fierce fighting had raged only a short time ago.
To them it was a place of victory—yet at the same time a land that cradled the deaths of countless souls.
Arteon remained seated for a long while, eyes fixed upon it.
Then came the sound of footsteps stopping behind him.
“Are you about to leave, sir?”
A familiar voice reached him. When Arteon turned, Barter, the 1st Squad Leader, stood there. Behind him dozens of unit members had gathered, all watching their commander.
Arteon regarded them calmly.
“How did you know I was here?”
Barter’s lips curled into a faint smirk.
“Every last man in the unit knows, sir. Whenever the Commander has something weighing on him, he always comes to this spot.”
Ever since the day they had lost their comrades, Arteon had come here whenever he could spare a moment, staring out across the plain and remembering them. That sight had been so heavy with sorrow that no one had dared approach—until now they had simply pretended not to notice.
Arteon murmured softly, “…Is that so.”
Ordinarily he would have brushed the remark aside, yet today it tightened something deep in his chest. Just as he had been watching over them, they too had been watching over him. Perhaps, without realizing it, he had been trying to keep a little distance. And now, as if that quiet truth had been laid bare, a warm surge of feeling passed through him.
Complex emotion gathered in his eyes as countless memories of this place—and of all the days they had shared before—flashed through his mind.
Then another voice spoke carefully from behind Barter.
“I… don’t know if I have the right to say this, but may I speak a word?”
“…?”
Kamarkan stepped forward. The others’ gazes turned to him at once.
“Go ahead,” Arteon said without hesitation. “If you have something to say, say it.”
Kamarkan drew a breath.
“I’m certain… every one of our fallen brothers left with joyful hearts.”
Silence fell as if the wind itself had stopped. Arteon’s eyes grew cold. The other soldiers could not hide their startled looks; the giant who had only recently joined them at Helikel Canyon was speaking with reckless boldness.
Yet Kamarkan pressed on without faltering.
“You know what I was—nothing but a thug. Before I came here I never thought twice about killing anyone weaker than me or raising hell wherever I went.”
A wild son of the Turak Tribe, he had piled crime upon crime.
“But you, Commander… you took that worthless bastard who couldn’t even pull his own weight and made him into a real soldier.”
The endless training. Days so brutal he thought he would die. Not a single day without being chewed out.
“And still… I loved every one of those days. I loved that you never gave up on me and dragged me along to the end.”
This was nothing like the usual swaggering Kamarkan. As his words continued, a quiet emotion settled into the eyes of every man listening.
“If it had been me… I would have felt the same. Just being able to protect the Commander… that alone would have made me happy.”
The air on the hill grew heavier. Everyone present understood that this was no empty loyalty or military discipline—it was pure, unvarnished sincerity.
Risking one’s life for another.
Once Arteon would have called it foolishness. Dying for someone else? What nonsense. But no longer. He now knew the weight and the meaning those words carried.
“Every man here knows it,” Kamarkan finished.
The others turned to Arteon with solemn eyes. Barter slowly nodded.
“…This damn thug’s finally saying something right for once.”
“I feel the same.”
“So do I, Commander.”
“If it meant saving you, I would have fought with a smile on my face…!”
One after another, every voice rose to join the same truth. Their words braided together on the hilltop into a single strong cord that reached straight to Arteon.
He looked at them in silence. He had believed he understood their hearts.
…Was I the one who actually knew nothing?
Arteon drew a short breath.
“Thank you. All of you.”
How could he leave these men standing before him—the ones he had laughed with, trained with, fought beside? Yet leave he must. Only by leaving could he ensure they would never again face such loss. To protect them…
I must become stronger.
He steeled himself and spoke with quiet command.
“Listen carefully. Effective immediately, the entire Silent Spear unit falls under Lieutenant Colonel Isaac’s command.”
Barter’s face and every face behind him turned grave.
“By the time I return,” Arteon continued, “you will be several times stronger than you are now. Anyone who falls short… I will cut without mercy. Remember that.”
Barter answered at once.
“Of course, sir.”
The others lifted their heads as one.
“We’ll wait for your return.”
“We won’t grow weak.”
There was no tremor in their eyes. Arteon knew the promise to wait was no empty formality—it was a true oath.
He gave them a quiet smile. Brief as it was, it carried a warmth none of them had seen from him before.
Then he turned and began walking slowly down the hill. As his footsteps faded—
“Silent Speaaaaar—attention!”
Barter’s roar rolled across the entire hill. Boots snapped together; every man locked into perfect posture, right fists clenched tight.
“Salute to the Commanderrrr!”
“Hearts of steel!”
The thunderous cry seemed ready to shake the very ground. Arteon halted and turned back.
Thud!
“Hearts of steel.”
Until the day they met again, this was only farewell.
I will return stronger than I am now.
Leaving that vow behind, Arteon finished his preparations to leave Belikezel for the place that awaited him in the southwestern lands.
Inside a tent still holding the northern chill, Svein lifted a sealed envelope. His family crest was stamped across the flap.
Arteon accepted it and asked, “What is this?”
“A letter of recommendation. Of course there’s no guarantee it will open every door, but at least you won’t be turned away at the gate.”
The man had his own exacting standards. Skill alone meant nothing if it failed to meet them; he would never grant a second audience. Svein could not say how much weight the letter would truly carry, yet he wanted to offer even this small help.
“…Thank you. It will be a great help.”
Arteon smiled faintly and slipped the letter into his coat.
“If even with this I cannot gain an audience, then my ability simply ends there.”
“Huhu. I doubt that will happen.”
Svein extended his hand. They had known each other only a few days, yet the young man’s character, skill, and talent left nothing wanting. Part of him wanted to drag Arteon to the capital by force. Instead he simply offered quiet support for the path ahead. Small bonds like this, he believed, would one day draw the man to their side of his own will.
“Then go carefully.”
“Yes.”
Arteon had already said his farewells to the unit. He climbed into the waiting carriage.
“Shall we depart?”
“Let’s go.”
As the carriage rolled away, Svein watched in silence until it vanished.
A few hours later it was time for Svein and Sedrian themselves to return to the capital.
“Are the preparations complete?”
“We can leave whenever you wish. Did he depart safely?”
“Yes.”
“You look rather regretful.”
Svein answered Sedrian’s question with a faint smile. “Is Your Highness not the more regretful one?”
“It would be a lie to claim otherwise… yet I have a feeling we will meet again.”
Sedrian rose. Outside, the carriages stood ready; Velkain and the senior officers had gathered.
Velkain spoke. “Everything you ordered has been confirmed. You may depart at once.”
“I am sorry to leave so heavy a duty on your shoulders. Still, I trust you will handle it as well as you always have.”
There was far too much still to be done in Belikezel—proper fortifications to raise, the wealth of resources to harness. It would take time. Yet once those foundations were complete…
It will become a pillar of strength for the Empire’s future.
The Empire was mighty, yet to the south kingdoms still coiled their power and watched for any sign of weakness. The moment the Empire faltered they would strike. Therefore the Empire had to remain strong—and the northern path had to be opened without fail.
Velkain bowed his head. “I will carry out the mission perfectly. Do not concern yourself.”
“Then I leave it in your hands.”
Sedrian started toward the carriage—only for a shout to cut through the air.
“Supreme Commander! Supreme Commander!”
A messenger came sprinting, breath ragged, face rigid with urgency.
“…What is it?”
Every expression present hardened.
“An urgent dispatch from the capital.”
The man thrust the sealed papers into Velkain’s hands. Velkain accepted them and glanced at Sedrian, who gave a single nod.
Rustle.
Velkain unfolded the letter and read swiftly. The farther his eyes traveled, the graver his face became.
“…Your Highness.”
“What is it?”
“This…”
Instead of speaking, Velkain simply handed the letter over. The contents were not something to be spoken aloud before others.
The moment Sedrian’s eyes took in the words—
“Bellacrod… that bastard finally…!”
He crushed the paper in his fist, face twisting. Those who knew Sedrian’s usual composure could scarcely believe the sight. Svein’s expression darkened at once; there was only one matter that could drive Sedrian to such fury.
“Your Highness—surely not…”
“This fool has finally gone and done it.”
Sedrian passed the letter to Svein. The message was brief. Bellacrod had begun systematically murdering the central nobles who supported Sedrian. The victory at Belikezel had strengthened Sedrian’s position; cornered, the Second Prince had finally committed the unforgivable.
“Idiot… this cannot possibly help him.”
Sedrian’s teeth clenched. “We return at once. I only hope Count Marolin is holding firm.”
“…Your Highness.”
As Sedrian moved to board the carriage, Svein remained fixed on the letter, voice low.
“What are you doing? Every second counts.”
Sedrian turned, frowning at the still figure. Svein’s face had gone utterly serious.
“Your Highness… have you checked the entire list of those the Second Prince ordered arrested?”
At the very bottom of the dispatch, written in small script, ran a lengthy roster of names under arrest orders. Sedrian had not examined them all.
He shook his head. “I have not. They will all be innocents, of course. We will set it right upon our return. Why?”
Svein’s voice was heavy.
“Lord Rionhart’s name is on that list.”
“…What?”
Sedrian’s eyes widened sharply. Then the Second Prince’s men were already moving toward Rionhart’s secluded home?
“…Surely not.”
“Major Arteon is in danger.”
At those words every face present turned to stone.