367. Honor and Dishonor (1)
The mountains were boiling. From the dense forests unique to the Dane Kingdom and the foothills below, slowly. It was so intense that it couldn’t be dismissed as just the shouts of a few thousand men.
[Valhalla—!!]
Even those who didn’t understand the northern language could sense the meaning behind that cry. A fierce hostility was boiling over. For the knights of Phaeirn, the attire, armaments, and language were all unfamiliar. But there was one thing they were certain of.
They do not fear death. The knights of Phaeirn mounted their horses, checked their gear, and watched the enemy’s advance from beneath their heavy visors.
“How many enemies are there?!”
“Endless, they’re endless! From the forest… from the mountains…! They’re pouring out!”
“Damn it, what were the scouts doing?!”
“Surely, there was no camp of this size nearby…”
“Then, did they fall from the sky or sprout from the ground?!”
The command was in chaos. In a small camp, the confusion of the command quickly spreads among the soldiers. Even the most disciplined knightly order was no exception.
They were surrounded. Standing on the outskirts of the camp, which was nothing more than a simple wooden fence, the knights watched the approaching enemies. The enemies stopped just within arrow range, silently observing them.
“Who are you?!”
Ludwig stepped forward and shouted loudly. Even in chaos, these were the Royal Griffon Knights. They wouldn’t lose morale just because they were surrounded or outnumbered.
Ludwig was no different. Regardless of personal beliefs, his valor and spirit in battle would never crumble under such adversity. He strode forward and shouted.
“Call forth your master! If you have any honor, step forward and face me!”
Laughter erupted among the northerners. Soon, they parted, and a man rode forward on a horse. Ludwig recognized him through his visor and sighed softly.
“Knight of the Round Table, Albert…!”
“Long time no see, Sir Ludwig von Wolfstahl.”
“So, you remained here.”
Ludwig swallowed hard and groaned. Why hadn’t this man followed his king on the expedition? Had their plan been exposed, and was this happening all over the Dane Kingdom?
No, if that were the case, the enemy’s forces didn’t make sense. If King Vicente had set a trap, it should have been the elite soldiers of Dane and the Knights of the Round Table who stopped them, not these barbarians.
Then… were these troops mercenaries personally mobilized by that man? Had he acted independently of the king’s expedition, anticipating an invasion?
At that moment, Ludwig looked around and realized.
“Were there no fools in Dane…?”
The Royal Griffon Knights, like the other forces of Phaeirn, had landed separately. Their mission was to march toward Altberth and eliminate any enemy forces along the way.
While other legion commanders moved for invasion and conquest, the Griffon Knights were moving solely for annihilation. In other words, they were the only independent unit in this war that did not plunder enemy territory or harm civilians.
But of all people, a Knight of the Round Table was here. If he was here to intercept a pure combat force instead of protecting his own people and territory…
“It’s a trap…!”
“Impressive, Ludwig. With that brain, why do you serve Zigismund?”
Fernandez was genuinely impressed. The information known to the Phaeirn army was limited. That King Vicente and the Knights of the Round Table, along with all significant forces, were marching toward Phaeirn, and that there were no defensive forces left in this land.
With just that much information, and the mere appearance of Fernandez, Ludwig deduced the existence of a trap. Fernandez slowly stroked his horse’s back and narrowed his eyes.
‘Truly, a hero.’
In his past life, he had been one of many heroes. Back then, he had commanded the uncorrupted legions of Phaeirn alongside the Dane royal family led by Vicente II. Ludwig von Wolfstahl. The Wolf Knight.
Fernandez smiled bitterly and gripped his sword hilt. How life had flowed, or perhaps it was the karma the world had cast upon him. The heroes he had opposed in his past life were now his enemies again in this life.
“Did you set a trap for Altberth…? Letting the other commanders advance slowly while coming straight for us heading to Altberth, there’s no other explanation.”
“Correct. In a position where we need to buy time, it was necessary to control the only variable.”
“Truce negotiations… would be meaningless.”
“Commander! What are you…! We can fight!”
“Shut up, fool!”
Ludwig snapped at the knight voicing complaints beside him. His eyes were blazing with fury.
“Why do you think he revealed himself here and answered my questions one by one? Because he’s confident he can defeat us!”
“That’s arrogance! No one can guarantee victory against Phaeirn’s Royal Griffon Knights!”
“Do you know his name?”
“…I’ve never seen him before. Didn’t you say he’s a Knight of the Round Table…?”
“Knight of the Round Table, Albert. Did you not know the name of the saint of Shield, the knight called the reincarnation of the Dane King?”
“Ah… is that him…?”
Ludwig ignored the muttering knight and turned his gaze forward again. Watching Fernandez approach, he slowly drew his sword.
“A duel, then.”
“I request, Sir Albert.”
“That won’t save your knights.”
“But at least it might save my honor.”
“Was it your chivalry to stand by and watch Zigismund’s massacre and invade another country to plunder? Is that your knightly code?”
At Fernandez’s words, Ludwig’s face turned red. With trembling hands, he grabbed his helmet and threw it to the ground. He glared at Fernandez with burning eyes and shouted.
“Are you saying I had another choice? After all the royal blood of Phaeirn had already perished, and the entire land was suffering from magical contamination! Should I have opposed the royal family and buried the kingdom under eternal frost, letting the people perish with the coming winter?”
“You should have! If you spoke of honor, you should have! If not, if you chose to follow Zigismund’s orders, then you should never have dared to speak of honor. You don’t deserve it.”
Fernandez pressed forward, closing the distance between them. A small clearing formed around the two men. Neither the northerners nor the Royal Knights dared to step between them.
The intense aura of the two knights clashed violently. In front of thousands of soldiers, they drew their swords and faced each other.
“Albert…!! How dare you lecture me on honor? Did you want me to beg for scraps among the sick and dying, to close my eyes in the ruins? I am a knight, and I will die by the blade!”
Even if it was the delusion of a knight who had abandoned his beliefs, he did not want to die cold and alone among the poor. Regardless of Zigismund’s temptations, he wanted to die on the battlefield, sword in hand, fighting for victory.
Zigismund slaughtered the people? It was clearly the right thing to stop him, but having failed to do so, there was no other option. Phaeirn was already beyond saving, and Zigismunt, the only remaining royal blood, had already subdued all the nobles of the royal family.
Even if he alone rebelled, the odds were against him. Even if he won, there would only be a future of despair in a ruined land. Rather than that…
Rather, he would die as a knight. That was the only honor he held. To die on the battlefield following his sovereign’s orders. For him, death was not atonement. It was merely an escape.
Fernandez stared at him with cold eyes and spoke softly.
“Not everyone here can speak of honor. At least, I have no right to condemn you.”
Saving the people and giving them hope. Pitying the weak and fighting against injustice. All of that was not something Fernandez was allowed to do. He moved for more sinister, malicious victories.
Therefore, he could not argue justice against Ludwig’s stubbornness. He had no intention of defending himself.
As he drew his sword and charged at Ludwig, he thought. The hero who must emerge at the end of this war, the hope of the people, is not his role.
That seat belongs to someone more noble, someone more fitting.
-Thud!
A blue flower bloomed on the wooden plank hanging from his neck.
‘The last variable has been resolved.’
It meant that the one king who would save this grief-stricken eastern land had made his decision. The final condition of Fernandez’s intended strategy. The signal he had told Freya about had now reached him.
With a lighter heart, Fernandez swung his sword. The war of the honorable had just begun, and the battle of the dishonorable would end here.
After this, it would just be another predictable heroic epic.
* * *
The steel city of Altberth. This grand city, built on the ridge of a hill that could only be reached by passing through five towering mountains and vast farmlands, stood atop the corpse of a giant.
Now, countless people gathered on those farmlands, forming villages and lighting campfires. People from all over the land, regardless of rank or status.
Even before Phaeirn’s legion reached the coastline, from the moment the northerners began their plunder, all the people of Dane flocked to the walls of Altberth. Not only because it was the only city in the country with a proper military force, but also because Altberth had become a symbol of peace and safety among the people.
Altberth was a natural fortress and a symbol of the royal family. The city of the great hero who had cut through the chaos of the world and saved the people. The refugees believed only in that myth, holding onto their tiny hopes as they gathered in this city.
Even the northerners, who were pillaging villages across the country, did not attack their refugee procession. To the people, this seemed like a miracle, a symbol that safety could be found by following this path.
Hope grew. A vague, intangible hope spread among the people. Even as the country burned, the hope that this radiant city would protect them and restore the kingdom’s territory.
-Boom!
The ground shook, and the people began pointing to the sky, making the sign of the cross, or falling to their knees and weeping. Above them, a dragon from myth descended.
The dragon carefully placed its massive claws on the city wall’s gallery and looked down at the crowd bowing before it.
“Ah… Great Mother.”
As the people bowed low, several elders and a magus approached the dragon with a young boy. The dragon’s blue eyes turned to the boy. The boy, trembling instinctively, steadied himself and slowly knelt before the dragon.
[…Indeed, you resemble him. What is your name?]
“Eric, son of Vicente. Great Mother.”
While everyone else recoiled in fear at the dragon’s overwhelming presence, the boy remained kneeling, unmoving. The dragon’s eyes softened with a gentle smile. Between its claws, a black metallic sheen glowed brightly.
A blade fell from the dragon’s claw and embedded itself in the ground before the boy.
[Listen. You must protect your people with your own strength.]
“I will take those words as my vow.”
[No, that is not the value you must swear to.]
The dragon gently stroked the boy’s hair with a delicate gesture.
[Pity the fallen. That is enough.]
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