Chapter 345: The Tin Knight and the Kingdom of the Underground (10)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 345: The Tin Knight and the Kingdom of the Underground (10)
In his youth, Alonso’s hobby was to trace the footsteps of his great ancestors.
In a dark age, there was a great monarch who, like a giant tree, created a place for his people to rest under his shade.
In a brutal age, there was an honorable knight who burned like a brilliant lantern, giving hope to the people.
Alonso felt immense pride in the fact that the country of his birth was a nation left behind by the heroes who had once saved the world.
To be of the great monarch’s bloodline, to be his potential successor, was an unparalleled honor.
So as not to bring shame upon the heroes who had left him this land, Alonso lived his life to the fullest.
He never slacked off during his grueling and arduous training, and even when mocked by those around him, he steadfastly strove to restore the kingdom’s glory.
Even after he grew into an adult, after he became a king instead of a prince, his efforts never once ceased.
But what if all of it had been a delusion?
What if the heroes Alonso admired were strangers who had nothing to do with him? What if the bloodline he was so proud of was a lie, and his ancestors were not heroes at all, but mere thieves who had only impersonated them?
“The heavens are more interested in the surface world than you think. Especially when it comes to royal families. Alonso. You foolish king of Ionia. The heavens know you very well.”
Alonso swung his spear with great difficulty against the emerald soldiers.
And yet, the black-haired girl’s voice continued to echo in his ear.
That voice was as sweet as overripe fruit, filled with a terribly malicious kindness.
“You must have admired your great ancestors. You must have felt pride in being their descendant. But have you never found it strange? Why is it that not a single story of those glorious and proud ancestors has been passed down in the royal family? Why is it that you, a prince of the nation, only managed to learn their stories after scouring the tales of the common folk?”
Alonso tried to deny the black-haired girl’s words.
He tried to cut off her venomous speech, telling himself she was trying to delude a knight with wicked and cunning lies.
But the enemies blocking his path were too many, and too powerful.
Swinging his weapon desperately, Alonso was forced to listen to the story that rang with unnatural clarity even amidst the battle.
“The reason is simple. Digging too deep into that part of history would surely reveal contradictions. The La Mancha family sought to supplement their lacking legitimacy by inheriting the name of the kingdom, ‘Ionia,’ but they had not the slightest intention of returning the throne to the previous dynasty’s heirs. So, they spread this story.”
High above, he could see Dorothea, caught in the black-haired girl’s vines, desperately trying to maintain her barrier.
He could see Dorothea’s undead fighting against the emerald soldiers, protecting the innocent people.
Immense mana, beautiful features, and a will that refused to give up even in a corner.
She felt just like a hero from an old tale.
“‘Aschengard is a common name.’ ‘It originally just meant this land, and the ignorant peasants simply started using it as a surname.’ That scheme was truly effective. The royal family’s special status vanished, and the name of the previous dynasty came to be treated as a name used by those of no standing.”
Though he was often called a fool and a troublemaker, Alonso was by no means an idiot.
No, if anything, he was on the sharper and more intelligent side.
That was why his mind had to admit that the story he wanted so desperately to deny was, in fact, incredibly plausible.
“Foolish Alonso, stupid Alonso. You accepted the quest to find the sacred treasures without a shred of doubt, all to restore the kingdom’s glory. Because of your delusion, because of your vain ambition, they are all dying now. A worthless death, a useless death. Their only crime was having the wrong king.”
The black-haired girl, perched on a chair made of vines, pointed a finger at the kingdom’s citizens.
“So surrender. If you stop this pointless struggle, if you don’t interfere with me taking Dorothy, then I have no interest in you or your people. Or what? Are you going to stand by and watch innocent people die for your pathetic chivalry?”
Suddenly, Alonso realized his legs wouldn’t move, as if they were stuck in mud.
No, it wasn’t just his legs.
The lance he once wielded as lightly as a staff now felt impossibly heavy. His body was constrained as if bound by chains, and his head, which he always held high with pride, kept drooping downward.
The guilt of having embroiled the innocent, the shame of the words he himself had spoken, and a fierce revulsion for the blood flowing in his veins.
All of it was trampling his will, defiling it, twisting it into garbage.
His body was already near its limit anyway; even without the mental strain, he had no strength left to fight.
If he lowered his spear now, at least his retainers and his people could live.
If the outcome of the battle was already decided, then saving his people was the right thing to do. Just as Alonso was about to kneel…
“—You must not fall for her wicked words! Your Majesty!!”
A desperate cry reached Alonso’s ears.
Despite the fierce battle, Alonso glanced back.
Among the people threatened by the emerald soldiers, a man was staring straight at him.
Alonso muttered his name in a daze.
“Marquis William Hemming…?”
The man’s always-neatly-trimmed beard was a mess.
His elegant, high-class clothes were stained with dirt and blood, and in his hand, he clutched a sword he would never normally hold.
William’s stance, to be frank, was pathetic.
His grip on the sword was weak, and his legs were trembling with fear.
It was only natural for an old court official who had never properly trained.
But still.
Instead of giving up and collapsing, he was resisting with all his might to survive.
“They are nothing but the words of a mere girl! There is no proof, just ramblings! I, the other nobles, and all the people of this kingdom know for certain that Your Majesty is the rightful ruler of this nation!!”
It was a statement of common sense.
But it was also a statement that could only be made by someone who didn't possess the intuition and insight known only to transcendent beings or heroes close to their level.
The black-haired girl twisted her lips as if mocking his ignorance, and Alonso’s face flushed with shame.
“And even if it were true, what does that matter! If the glory of a thousand years ago belongs to another, then to hell with it! Let them have it!”
However, the words that followed made even Alonso’s eyes go wide.
“We nobles flourished under the House of La Mancha! The knights and mages of the court pledged their loyalty to you, not to some queen and knight they have never even seen! The one who must care for and protect the people is not some great figure from the distant past, but the king of this era, Alonso, Your Majesty!!”
William was a man who could hardly be called a loyal and upright retainer.
He disliked the king’s recklessness, clicked his tongue at the king’s righteousness, and sighed at the king’s willfulness.
If asked to list the king’s flaws and faults, he could probably go on all day.
But. Even so, the king he served was not a man who deserved to hear such words.
The king was a third-rate ruler, but a first-rate knight.
The king could not make cold, rational judgments, but he was a man with a passionate heart who could step forward for his people.
The effort the king had put in, the path the king had walked—even if it wasn't perfect, it was unmistakably the path of a king and the way of a knight.
“Your Majesty, you ran toward an ideal, but the footprints you left behind are clearly marked on reality! Even if that ideal was an illusion, a mere dream, the tracks you carved will not disappear! O great king of Ionia! The most foolish, yet the purest knight in this land! I beg you, do not lower your head!”
“Your Majesty! We believe only in you!”
“You must not be deceived by such cunning lies!”
“O Knight King! Please, save us!!”
The nobles, the knights, the common folk—the people who stood with Alonso were crying out to him.
It was foolishness. It was the stupidity of those who failed to grasp the situation. It was the childishness of a child’s fantasy.
They might have lived if they had just stayed quiet. It would have been easier to just shift all the blame to Alonso.
But without even calculating such things, they cried out their king’s name even as they died by the emerald blades.
And to the cries of such foolish people, the man who was both knight and king gladly responded.
CRASH!
A soldier blocking Alonso’s path flew backward as if struck by a massive carriage.
The soldiers, who had only sustained scratches on their armor despite Alonso’s countless attacks, were now broken or pierced like wooden blocks whenever they met the heavy trajectory of his spear.
“—UOOOOOOOH!!”
Alonso’s legs were no longer heavy.
The chains that had bound his body had vanished, his spear felt as light as a feather, and the dying light in his eyes now sparkled like a star.
As Alonso surged forward with renewed vigor, the black-haired girl’s eyes narrowed menacingly, and she commanded the soldiers to swarm him.
Swinging his spear at them, Alonso admitted it.
He had been chasing an impossible dream.
He had been burning with an unattainable love.
No matter how desperately he fought, it was impossible to win against such a powerful enemy.
His body was already at its limit. The more he struggled, the greater the pain he would have to endure.
He was not a star-like existence who could turn the impossible into the possible, like the heroes he had dreamed of becoming.
Still, Alonso did not stop.
With every step he took, the encirclement cornering his people loosened.
With every swing of his spear, the lives of his retainers who should have died were extended.
With every mouthful of blood he coughed up, that much less of his knights’ blood was shed.
That was enough.
As long as there was something to protect, a knight’s fight was not meaningless.
As long as there were those who believed in and followed him, it was unthinkable for the king to be the first to give up.
“—That’s enough. Just die, all of you.”
As if annoyed by Alonso’s struggle, the black-haired girl—Ozma’s—face filled with rage.
A massive emerald light poured out from around her body, and the emerald soldiers’ power was drastically amplified.
The barrier Dorothea had been maintaining finally gave way and began to crumble.
Seeing this, Billina tried to cut the vines, but was struck by a root swinging from the side and sent flying, coughing up blood.
Alonso, who had long since surpassed his limits and was fighting on with a broken spear, was finally forced to his knees before the overwhelming quantity and quality of the enemy.
And so, in that moment, it seemed like everything was over.
Slice!
A massive slash cut down all the emerald soldiers surrounding Alonso in a single stroke.
A subsequent slash instantly severed the vines holding Dorothea.
As Dorothea fell to the ground, a knight in dark, metallic armor caught her in a princess carry.
Alonso stared blankly at the knight.
The knight’s armor was crude.
It was covered in scratches and dust, as if he had just fought his way through a fierce battle.
And yet, it didn’t give an impression of being shabby in the slightest.
His back, as he stood protectively in front of Dorothea, seemed as immense as a great mountain.
For a moment, the knight’s gaze turned to Alonso.
No words were spoken.
But for some reason, Alonso felt as if the knight had said to him, “You did well.”
With a strange sense of relief, Alonso quietly lost consciousness.