The Second Eisenreich-Holy Empire War: The Defector's Advance
The steeds of the Wandering Plains, tempered by galloping across rugged and vast wildlands, boasted a premier reputation among the continent's finest warhorses. Proving as much, the Valtenstein detachment—composed solely of seasoned knights and soldiers—burst into exclamations of awe the moment they mounted them.
Snow-white horse armor symbolizing the frozen tundra. Fierce steeds from the Wandering Plains. And the Holy Empire's signature ornate yet razor-sharp longswords and lances. More akin to a knightly order than a mere detachment, the Valtenstein cavalry had proven their exceptional valor through repeated mock battles against the mercenary bands under the Mercenary King. Frederica herself had eyed Kailun and the Valtenstein detachment with obsessive desire upon witnessing it.
"…Hoo."
He removed his helmet. Sweat-drenched brown hair cascaded down. Rozalin von Lucien. The female knight who overpowered burly men through sheer force was captivating enough, like a beautiful flower bud drawing all eyes. But upon glimpsing the horrific scars marring her virginal white skin, they stared in stunned silence.
"Captain Valtenstein."
"I heard you've been drilling non-stop without a day's rest. Don't push yourself too hard."
The black-haired man who had watched the training approached. It was Kailun.
Kailun offered a towel. Fresh and fluffy, just fetched.
Rozalin wiped the sweat trickling down her slender face and nape.
"I heard you're invading the Holy Empire alongside the Colonial Empire's adjudicators. Word is… you're targeting Sanktus, the key commercial hub in the northeast."
"If Sanktus falls, the Holy Empire's front lines—holding the Colonial Empire at bay—will have no choice but to retreat far to the rear. Naturally, they'll have to commit their proudest knightly orders."
"So Captain Valtenstein's true target is the Holy Empire's knightly orders."
"More precisely, stripping away the Holy Empire's arrogant honor and pride."
Knight. Guardians of the Holy Empire. The continent's mightiest warriors. Armed with unwavering loyalty to the emperor and fervent faith in the one true god, these martial orders were the driving force behind the Theodor Holy Empire's dominance over the eastern continent. Even in the original story, "I Shall Guard Your Empire," they played a major role under Zigrinde's command.
Defeating such a glorious martial force. The perfect chance to shatter the Holy Empire's arrogance.
"It's for the safety of your father and brothers, remanded to the Imperial Capital."
"Huh?"
"Capturing knights on the battlefield… could give you leverage for a hostage exchange. After all, Captain Valtenstein—who stole the White Night Sword and Black Star Sword out of concern for his remaining family in the Holy Empire—wouldn't target the central army's knights just to humiliate the empire."
"……."
Kailun betrayed his bewilderment at Rozalin's reverent tone, brimming with utter trust in him. Reading his reaction, Rozalin murmured with a faint smile, "I've gone and presumed to read Captain Valtenstein's heart."
Impressive. Rozalin's guess had hit the mark precisely. Sharp insight. It landed so perfectly—in the reverse sense—that Kailun even suspected, Is she deliberately feeding me this?
"Captain Valtenstein. There's a chance my father, Viscount Lucien, might join the fray, isn't there?"
"More than enough. He's with the central army, after all."
"If Viscount Lucien appears on the field… I want to face him myself."
"Do it."
Kailun and Rozalin shared the common trait of being vengeful defectors from the Holy Empire. But that was where it ended. Kailun merely used his revenge against Zigrinde as a tool for advancement in the Colonial Empire. Rozalin, in stark contrast, burned with blind hatred toward the father who had mercilessly cast her out, determined to deliver karmic retribution.
Nothing ignited one's blood and drive like vengeance. Hatred and resentment toward her father—that was the Sword Saint's disciple's greatest weapon. Kailun pledged his full support to fuel her sharp blade of revenge.
Executor of the Frozen Tundra. Red Mercenary King. The two adjudicators representing the War Council had declared war.
Theodor Holy Empire. Time to smash the arrogant hypocrites.
The flames of war ignited by the Colonial Empire now threatened the Holy Empire once more.
Leonora and Frederica's allied army numbered 35,000 strong. Nearly all were Wandering Plains mercenaries, but bolstered by Nilfheim's elite guardians of the tundra barrier, they formed a formidable host.
"Must be a complicated feeling, adjutant. Conquering the Holy Empire you've served loyally all this time…."
"No particular emotions. No lingering attachments. I'll show no hesitation against the Holy Empire's arrogant nobles."
"Splendid answer. I look forward to the Colonial Empire's mad hound in action."
"Leave it to me."
The Holy Empire's arch-traitor had returned at the head of the Colonial Empire's grand army. Textbook treason. But there was no hesitation. The beast that had pinned its irrationality on him, Rozalin, and the knights—driving them to defect—was the Holy Empire itself. Now, it would face the fury of the lowborn it had sacrificed and oppressed.
"It's General Frederica's strict orders. Obey all commands except suicide charges, Guard Captain."
"You got it."
A gleaming bald head and pitch-black skin marked the imposing giant as he stepped forward. True to his monstrous strength and build, each footfall thudded heavily. Baraka. A mercenary from the southern continent. Commander of the slave soldiers and one of Frederica's close aides.
Originally, Frederica had offered mercenaries hired from the Colonial Empire's territories. But Kailun's request for the southern continent's slave legion—the most despised among all units—had piqued her interest and expectations.
"We'll prove worthy of your excellent judgment."
"Count yourself lucky. Against any other nation, maybe not—but I'm an expert on the Holy Empire. Obey my orders faithfully, and I'll guarantee your rise."
"Such confidence. How do you plan to face the Holy Empire's knights? We've prepared the cannons as ordered, but… they're far too few to handle a knightly order."
"Cannons won't touch the Holy Empire's knights."
The knights' era of overwhelming breakthroughs had waned with the advent of powerful firearms and black powder. Veteran knights, half a lifetime on the battlefield, fell en masse to green recruits wielding thunderbolts. Absurd, but true.
But in this romance-fantasy world, it was different. Magic. Magic was the culprit.
The Red Tower's spells had halted the knights' decline. The Theodor Holy Empire enchanted every weapon and suit of armor with layers of defensive and auxiliary magic—an extravagant, revolutionary tactic. The astronomical costs and manpower had cemented their rule as eastern hegemons.
"Advance."
Kailun raised one hand. The 200-strong detachment and 2,000 slave soldiers began their march.
"If you slaughter the Valtenstein family's father and brothers, I'll hurl both the White Night Sword and Black Star Sword into the abyss of the frozen tundra."
"The Colonial Empire's grand army marches to seize the Holy Empire's vital stronghold, Sanktus. Face the traitor's blade honorably on the field, you greedy hypocrites of the Holy Empire."
"We will sally forth with the White Night Sword and Black Star Sword."
The Eisenreich Colonial Empire had issued its declaration of war. Astonishingly, the author was none other than the fallen defector, Kailun.
The vile traitor who had razed the port city now led the Colonial Empire's army into Holy Empire soil. Enraged by Kailun's declaration, the Sword Duke's Kreuz family dispatched heir Zikfried von Kreuz and their knights in response.
"This is your final chance. Kill Kailun and reclaim the White Night Sword. Whether you inherit the noble Kreuz bloodline or face disownment and a life worse than a mongrel's—your performance will decide."
"Thank you, Father! I will return to the Imperial Capital with that damned traitor's head and the reclaimed White Night Sword!"
The Sword Duke, famed for his cold blood, had granted his first—and last—mercy. Fail to win, and die. Fail to reclaim the White Night Sword, and die. Fail to slay Kailun, and die. For Zikfried von Kreuz, who had lorded over others with his noble blood, the heir's position outweighed his life. Thus, the Sword Duke's heir gripped his sword hilt, crushed by terror and pressure.
"You look scared, Zikfried."
"Think the Sword Duke's heir fears that mongrel traitor? I'm thrilled at last to slaughter filthy scum! Kailun, you bastard dog! How dare you declare war on the great Sword Duke…! I'll sever your head!!"
A young man in a lavishly adorned robe spoke. Kasian von Eternar. Young tower master of the Red Tower.
Like Zikfried, Kasian had received orders to slay Kailun and reclaim the Black Star Sword, deploying with the Red Tower's magic soldier legion.
Sword and sorcery. The Kreuz family and Red Tower had mobilized. The Theodor Holy Empire had committed both its mighty wings.
Gazing at the ranks of knights clad in sturdy plate, Zikfried and Kasian were convinced of victory. The central army's knightly orders—worth a hundred men each—had joined, commanded by true guardians of the empire: heroes of the Yellow Path 12 Palaces.