“Haa- Haa…”
Oscar was panting, leaning over with an axe wound on his shoulder. More than half of his shield and sword were already cut off, making his form barely recognizable.
Beside him, Isabelle lay on the ground, bleeding, her sword inverted, breath labored. Blood adorned her face, marked by a long gash from a narrowly evaded spear.
“Is everyone okay…? Healing, healing…”
“Save your strength. Not yet.”
Eugene raised his trembling arm and then lowered it again. Elpheira lowered her arm, channeling magic.
In front of them, Ecdysis stood holding two maces, asking while standing.
“I may be foolish, but does anyone have a plan?”
“…I don’t.”
“Me neither.”
They killed the Red Baron. Let’s say this is the best result so far. Gerard de La Monde was an entry knight of the Eastern Knights, after all.
Even among the Eastern Knights, known as the most powerful knights in the country, they were a small group of elites. It’s quite an achievement to defeat such a person at the level of a college student.
But this situation cannot be resolved with just his life.
“What do we do now…?”
“There’s a change of plans. I’m sorry, everyone.”
“How is it changing?”
“To fight our best and die.”
Oscar stepped forward, clutching the broken sword tightly. The soldiers and knights were watching him in silence.
The duel ended with the death of the commander, but they had the leisure. The siege of Royal Palace was already proceeding as planned, so this was just a little amusement.
Already exhausted enemies, even among hundreds or thousands of soldiers. Even the identity of the enemy is said to be a commander of resistance.
Just capturing prisoners alone would have a tremendous impact on the pre- and post-war diplomacy. The knights’ eyes were filled with greed. So why force yourself to take such fragile treasure.
If they were brought back alive, they would receive tremendous rewards from the Duke of Étienne, no, from King Granmarteau himself.
“My name, my lineage, the name of my country and lord, I wager them all.”
Oscar glanced at the weary knights with tired eyes, sweeping his hair back and tying it firmly.
“Today, in this place, I wager my life… I swear on my remaining honor.”
The knights fell into silence. It was such a famous tale. It was said to be a reenactment of the saga of the hero when Jill Ber faced thousands of Taurs alone.
“From now on, a hundred will surely perish.”
There’s no resolution. Just a calm statement. Legend has it that Jill Ber boldly declared it back then, but there’s no such audacity here.
Only the calm admonition of a man prepared for death remains.
-clang-
The shattered sword drags across the ground, etching a long scar upon the earth, marking the site of their final resting place, the hallowed ground known as Saint Mathilde.
Standing straight behind it, Oscar grips the broken sword and takes his stance.
“Then I’ll take one hundred and fifty.”
“I’ll take two hundred.”
“I’ll humbly settle for seventy.”
“No, we should at least have some competitive bidding. What’s that about.”
“It’s honest, that’s what it is.”
The companions stood by Oscar’s side. They all held their weapons with weary faces. In their midst, Oscar glanced around as if momentarily bewildered, then chuckled.
“Let’s roughly tally it up and aim for a thousand.”
“Sounds good. It’s like a joint funeral. Quite grand.”
“If it’s going to be a joint funeral, I’d prefer to do it with my uncle.”
“I’m shocked right now. Do they still bury people in Drovian? Poor Yermov.”
“Perhaps only death can part those two? Isn’t that common sense?”
“In our country, death is postponed for about a thousand years. Humans live short lives, you know.”
Amidst the companions’ chatter, Oscar chuckled and shook his head. Despite their feeble attempt to maintain a serious atmosphere, it was fading away.
But it’s not bad. People who don’t lose their laughter in the face of despair are more suited to hopeful appearances.
A true warrior should never despair under any circumstances.
*
After sixty, it became thirty after the first charge.
When they broke through the rear infantry and advanced, only ten remained.
When they clashed with the next cavalry unit, only one remained and rushed forward.
“He has fallen!!”
As the man’s horse finally buckled, breaking its knee and collapsing, he too stumbled but quickly recovered, swiftly slashing the throats of two assailants in a daring display of resilience.
Truly a demon-like man. Wherever he passed, there was only bloodshed. He marched towards Étienne, clearing the way with corpses.
But that’s the end of it. At the point of cutting through half of the forces, his charge was completely thwarted.
“Half, only half….”
Étienne felt like laughing instead. Thirty thousand, excluding those who entered the castle, just this much.
If you add up all the non-combat forces like the follow-up units, supply units, and support units, it’s an enormous number, around forty to fifty thousand.
If that’s half, it means that to stop his breakthrough, at least twenty thousand infantry would be needed.
They didn’t kill them all. They only rushed in for a breakthrough, so how many hundreds did they face head-on?
But numbers don’t work like that. Even if they don’t face him head-on, the people surrounding him won’t disappear.
“You’ve taken on half a legion alone.”
All the nobles of the command watching his advance muttered softly. Even though they knew it wouldn’t reach them, the palpable fear was hard to ignore.
Two large spears were thrust into his abdomen, and the armor on both arms was completely shattered.
Under the broken armor, his left arm hung limply, while his right arm held a knife, resting on the ground.
Five arrows were visible on his back. It meant there was no chance of dodging even if they sensed them coming.
Blood flowed profusely from a long gash on his thigh, overflowing onto the armor. He was already a cumbersome opponent to even walk.
But beneath his helmet, his eyes still burned with a deep blue flame, filled only with the will to kill him.
“How can a person be like that.”
“…”
No one responded to Étienne’s words. Without waiting for a response, he moved towards the man.
The knights and nobles followed suit, approaching the man who was completely incapacitated and kneeling with weapons aimed at him.
Even as they approached, they couldn’t shake off the overwhelming fear that engulfed them. He was like a wild beast.
Even in a zoo, behind safe bars, the gaze of a wild beast alone was enough to send shivers down people’s spines.
“Remove the helmet.”
“…”
The man didn’t respond to Étienne’s words. He still stared at Étienne, breathing heavily.
“Your struggle is futile. Even now, kiss my hand. I will not only spare your life but embrace you, your family, and your lineage as the highest nobility of this country.”
“…You…”
A faint voice was heard from under the helmet. Étienne furrowed his brow and waved his hand.
One of the soldiers aiming a spear at him cautiously approached and removed his helmet.
Under the helmet, blood was pooling. It was evidence of spitting blood. The man with his long beard stained red revealed himself.
He spoke in a fading voice.
“Your loyalty is convenient.”
“Are you willing to die for a dead royal family?”
“It has always been so.”
Étienne chuckled at Ivan’s words.
“Bring me the sword. I will personally execute the last loyalist of this country and raise my banner above him.”
“Yes, My Lord.”
A knight approached and handed him the sword. The sound of the blade leaving the scabbard was crisp.
The last sound heard in life is often brief. Ivan looked at the gleaming blade under the sunlight with a vacant expression.
What awaits after death? Is there truly an eternal blissful heaven as taught in scripture? Will even the virtuous kings be present there?
Even if only hell awaits, it wouldn’t be bad. Whether heaven or hell, there will be no shortage of familiar faces.
Finally.
Kim Sunwoo murmured softly. Ivan nodded. Even if he couldn’t return home, what would be the problem? His homeland—
-Whooing—
At that moment, a familiar sound reached his ears.
“…Reaper Corps?”
Ivan muttered unconsciously.
*
-Whooing—
-Flurik…whooing—
A noise more intense than fireworks shooting up, but even more intense, filled the sky. Étienne, holding the sword, the nobles of the command, even the ordinary soldiers, suddenly looked up at the sky.
Traces of black streaks were flying from a corner of the sky. Initially appearing as small dots, they gradually grew larger.
When they reached a certain altitude, the black dots suddenly became engulfed in flames and fire. Étienne shouted without realizing it.
“It’s bombardment!!”
“Bombardment…? Wh-where from…? Who…?”
“Kalion…? Has an aerial battleship appeared?”
“No, you bastards! This is—!!”
-Boooom—
From the north, far away, the sound of bugles was heard.
Simultaneously, shells struck the soldiers forcefully. Clang, clang. Screams erupted from all directions along with the sound of artillery pounding into the ground.
-Whooing—
The bugle sound continued. Thump, thump, thump. The ground trembled. The eyes of terrified soldiers turned toward the surrounding slopes to the north.
At the end, a small piece of heaven rose.
Flapping in the fierce wind, the sentences of the fire bear and the lily.
Gradually, more and more, filling the entire hillside, forming a massive barrier.
The wind blows.
-Even in the winter wind, we raise our banners.
-My comrades.
-Our homeland, our homes, and even our songs stood firm.
-My comrades.
-If winter comes again.
-My comrades.
“Raise the banners again. Our motherland will be with us.”
Ivan murmured softly.
-My comrades.
A familiar military song was heard.
“Krasilov…!!”
Count Étienne let out a low cry. At the highest point of the hill, a woman on a white horse was looking down at them.
Now, at noon, under the midday sun, holding a sword in hand.
As if casting a amplification spell, her voice pierced through the streets into everyone’s ears.
“The most outstanding men among you—!!”
From the far north, winter approaches.
“Explain why the name of the United Kingdom is ‘United’—!!”
Krasilov has arrived.
Note:
“When we return to St. Mathilde, our name will become that of invaders.” (Pavel)
Andy they really back to Invade lol
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