Chapter 233: The Tin Knight and the Witch of Heaven's Change (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 233: The Tin Knight and the Witch of Heaven's Change (3)
Tens of thousands of people swarmed around the Tower of Control.
Soldiers in orderly formations. Knights in gleaming silver armor. And the mages who commanded them with a mere flick of their chins.
The scene was a microcosm of the values held by the Control faction.
At its center, inside a lavish military tent, Teur Rognir watched the image of his enemies in a crystal ball.
“So they really came.”
Instead of the robes and staves one would associate with mages, this was a bizarre group clad in things like flame-spewing swords and body-enhancing suits.
Surrounding them, a horde of magic dolls and golems marched forward.
Seeing the forces of the Tower of Protection burning with a fighting spirit so clear it was visible from afar, Teur sighed inwardly.
‘It would have been much easier if they had just faltered and fallen apart.’
It was unbecoming for a commander responsible for a previous defeat to think such things, but it was precisely because he was the commander that Teur knew just how dire the Tower of Control's situation was.
Even if their quality fell short of the Annihilation faction, their mage forces—once the largest in the Magic State in terms of sheer numbers—had dwindled to less than half their former strength. The losses among high-ranking mages, who were not easily replaced, were particularly devastating.
The witch Mombi's actions had managed to right the once-tipped scales, but in other words, it meant their faction had declined to the point where they had no choice but to rely on Mombi's individual power.
To prevent any further weakening of their forces, Teur had hoped his opponents would lose their resolve to fight and simply collapse, but things in the world rarely go as planned.
Even if they somehow managed to win, would the prosperity they longed for still be waiting for them afterward?
Despite harboring such doubts, Teur forced the thought from his mind.
After all, if they couldn't win the war before them, there would be no 'afterward' to speak of.
“I don't see any flying ships. Have we received any other intelligence?”
“My apologies, but we have nothing useful. Most of our moles within the Protection faction have been discovered, and few remain. Besides, since that group is practically an outside force, it seems even those inside the Tower of Protection don't know their exact location or plans.”
“To think they can trust and use people like that... No, I suppose we're in no position to talk.”
“Lord Teur?”
“No, it's nothing. Are the battle formations complete? Even when the enemy enters magical range, do not attack immediately. And—”
“—Wait, wait, hold on. You can't be thinking of fighting them, are you?”
Teur's face contorted as a man roughly threw open the tent flap and strode inside.
“What are you talking about, Valdeus? The enemy is right before us. Of course we have to fight.”
“Ahem, that's big brother Valdeus to you.”
“Just answer the question.”
Whether he was oblivious to Teur's displeasure or deliberately provoking him, Valdeus Rognir spoke with a sneer.
“Aren't those bastards here to rescue the Tower Head of Protection and their comrades? We've captured the enemy's king, so why should we give them a fair fight?”
Realizing what Valdeus was implying, Teur asked back in disbelief.
“So what, you're going to use hostages to make the enemy surrender? Are you out of your mind?”
To be honest, Teur wasn't fond of the current situation, where they had used the Tower Head of Protection as bait to lure the enemy.
It was a cowardly and dishonorable act.
Some might scoff that only a fool worries about face in a war, but that was a shortsighted view.
The cowardly are despised. The dishonorable are not respected.
A faction that ignored justification and prestige to pursue only immediate gains might be feared, but it could never earn respect. For a nation, that was a fatal loss.
Until now, they could at least make the excuse that they were 'seeking a swift conclusion through a direct confrontation instead of pointlessly raiding each other's strongholds and escalating the damage.' But if they continued to use hostages, they would surely be branded as despicable villains.
For Teur, this was absolutely unacceptable.
But Valdeus seemed to think differently.
“Hmph, in that case, you just watch. Your big brother will take care of everything cleanly.”
“I will not permit you to act on your own, Valdeus. Stay put and watch your post.”
“You have no right to order me around! You're the one whose incompetent command drove the tower into this corner! How long are you going to act like you're my superior?!”
Valdeus roared and stormed out of the tent. Teur cursed under his breath as he watched him go.
“That moron... as soon as he's released from probation...!”
Valdeus, who had failed to properly handle the singing bone flute incident, was originally fated to be relegated to a minor post and live with his head bowed, but the Tower of Control no longer had the luxury of abundant talent.
Regardless of his leadership and political skills, Valdeus's magical prowess as a 4th rank mage was outstanding, and he also held the title of the gray old man's eldest son.
The gray old man, thinking it a waste to let such talent lie idle, had given him command of a guerrilla unit, but that frustrating man couldn't wait to cause trouble again.
He probably thought that with Teur's prestige weakened from taking responsibility for the defeat, a major achievement now would get him reappointed as the successor. Teur desperately wanted to tell him to please, for the love of god, consider the situation before starting a power struggle.
“What will you do? Shall we detain him by force?” his subordinate asked cautiously, seeing Teur's distorted expression.
Teur and Valdeus's official positions were both directly under the gray old man, but unlike Teur, who commanded all the regular forces outside the tower, Valdeus had fewer than twenty mages under his command.
They could easily detain him by force if they chose to.
But Teur shook his head.
“There's nothing more foolish than showing an opening by squabbling amongst ourselves when the enemy is at our doorstep. Let him do as he pleases. We will proceed with our original plan.”
In the first place, the hostages were all in the hands of the Witch of the North, so it was impossible for Valdeus to harm them.
All he could do was make empty threats.
Keenly feeling the absence of his other siblings—who, personality aside, had been undeniably competent—Teur massaged his throbbing temples, faced with the reality of having to treat even a man like that as a key part of his forces.
*
“That arrogant bastard.”
Valdeus ground his teeth.
He despised Teur, believing him to be just as dirty but pretending to be clean out of hypocrisy.
Of course, Teur wasn't acting out of a pursuit of justice or goodness, but simply avoiding unnecessary risks as a ruler. Valdeus, however, lacked the ability to make that distinction.
In truth, it wouldn't have mattered even if he knew. He cursed all his siblings who vied for his position anyway.
As a man of noble royal blood, Valdeus believed that as the eldest son, he should naturally ascend to the next throne (the position of Tower Head), but the gray old man had crushed that hope.
He had been given some bonus points, more support, and more opportunities for being the eldest, but that was all.
His younger siblings, like Teur and Jeras, achieved greater results with less support, and when even his cousins like Skoll and Hati displayed outstanding abilities, he was soon reduced to being the eldest son in name only.
But not anymore.
Most of his powerful rivals had been killed by the enemy, and now, among the remaining siblings, only Teur was clearly superior to him.
In other words, if he could just achieve more than Teur, he could reclaim the rightful position he should have had all along.
And that future was not so far away.
-You there. Are you Lotbart's son?
-Uh, yes, yes! Great Teacher! I am Valdeus, the eldest son!
-Hoh, is that so? Come to think of it, I believe I saw you in Orin's memories. You were quite small back then... Perfect timing. Take this.
-It's a pouch. What's inside?
-The Tower Head of Protection and the other mages. You manage them as you see fit. Infuse it with mana, and they will return to their original forms.
Recalling his conversation with the Witch of the North, Valdeus gripped the pouch in his hand tightly.
‘Why else would the Great Teacher single me out and entrust me with this? She must be trying to support me!’
If a heavyweight like Mombi supported him, the position of the next Tower Head was not just a dream.
Suppressing his excitement, he roared at the forces of the Tower of Protection.
“You fools who sought to intimidate and manipulate the Great Teacher of the Magic State! Your crimes all deserve the highest punishment, but I, Valdeus Rognir, have decided to grant you one last chance! Lay down your swords and staves and surrender at once! If you obey, you will be treated with leniency. But if you refuse, your representative will meet a gruesome end!”
As Valdeus's voice, amplified by magic, spread across the battlefield, a great stir could be seen in the enemy ranks.
Feeling a thrill of pleasure at the sight of the enemy reacting to his every word, Valdeus took out a plant root shaped like a human from the pouch.
When Valdeus infused the root with mana, the unconscious, limp form of Hermina, the Tower Head of Protection, appeared.
“Well, what are you waiting for! Surely you don't intend to abandon your Tower Head! Surrender at once!”
Valdeus felt a sense of superiority he had never experienced before.
At this moment, everyone on the battlefield was focused on him.
He was, without a doubt, the protagonist of this war—
KWAAANG!
—or so he would have been. What was that sound?
At the sudden noise, Valdeus's head snapped to the side.
On the flank of the battlefield.
A magic ship with a jet-black hull and golden sails was charging toward the tower, firing its cannons.
“Wh-what, you bastards! Are you saying you don't care what happens to the hostage?!”
He shouted in panic, but no answer came.
Not only that, but an unusual phenomenon began to unfold in the sky.
Swarms of birds, so numerous they looked like black clouds, were flying toward the tower—not one swarm, but three.
Clutched in the birds' talons were ropes woven like spiderwebs, and from each rope hung a large leather pouch, big enough to comfortably fit a person.
To avoid a repeat of the tragedy at Balascamb, the spirits and mages with flight capabilities stationed in the sky unleashed a barrage of attacks on the flocks of birds and the leather pouches they carried.
The birds were shot down in the blink of an eye, and the leather pouches were torn open.
One. The contents were undead.
Two. These were also undead.
Three. As if to say, 'Haven't you learned your lesson after being fooled twice?', these too were undead.
In the moment they were lost in confusion and dismay, a massive shadow fell over them without a sound.
Seeing the giant undead falling toward the tower, they were horrified, finally realizing that the birds and pouches had been a simple bluff.
Just as they thought the tower would be crushed under its mass, an immense amount of mana gathered at the tower's peak and fired a massive beam at the falling undead.
The giant undead was pierced in an instant by the intense attack, which was so powerful the heat could be felt even on the ground.
There were no contents inside; it looked as if a hole had been punched through a hollow ball.
And while they wasted their firepower on such a pointless target, Cap'n Bill's pirate ship reached the tower without any trouble.
As a bonus, the Tin Knight—who had apparently dropped down from somewhere—landed on the pirate ship, slowing his descent by scraping his sword against the tower's outer wall with a drrrrrk, all while holding a black-haired witch in his arms.
Amidst the chaotic, rapidly unfolding battle, Valdeus muttered blankly.
“Hey, the hostage is over here...?”