374. Battle of King’s Gate (5)
It was unthinkable that tens of thousands of soldiers could be held back by just one person, even without magical support. Gunter roughly chopped down the neck of a soldier who was hesitating and retreating, then shouted.
“He’s alone! Damn it, does he have dozens of hands? Push forward together! You! You! And you! Raise your shields and form a shield wall! Advance!”
The soldiers hesitated but moved forward. Then, as one soldier stepped over Vicente’s line—
-Slice!
No one saw the blade move. For a moment, the morning sunlight flashed, and the soldier, shield and all, was split in two.
The soldiers’ faces turned pale. Vicente remained standing in the same position.
“A m-monster… It’s a monster!”
“Damn it, you go first! I don’t want to die!”
“Fools!! Those who retreat will be dealt with by military law! Don’t run!!”
The soldiers clenched their teeth and slowly moved forward. One by one, they fell, and another, and another.
But gradually, more soldiers began to cross the line. Vicente let out a short sigh.
‘Is this the end? I held out for a long time.’
If one person could hold back tens of thousands for even an hour, it was close to a miracle. His role was done.
His people would likely never forget this sight. Even if Dane’s borders fell and the land burned, they would never give up.
That was enough. Vicente narrowed his eyes and raised his blade. Now, the soldiers didn’t stop. Spear blades scratched and grazed his armor.
Then, the sound of hooves thundered toward him, and screams began to rise from the outer edges of the shield wall.
“Your Majesty! Albert of Sernerd has arrived to join the battle!”
“…Sir Albert? How did you get here…?”
“Your Majesty once expressed concern for a friend. I was blinded by personal ambition and nearly ignored Your Majesty’s kindness. Please forgive this disloyalty!”
Fernandez jumped in with a bold laugh, showing no sign of remorse. As his greatsword swung through the air, soldiers tangled in its path were flung aside, screaming.
After quickly clearing the space, he stood in front of Vicente and looked at the soldiers. They flinched at his sudden appearance.
“Have you come to find your death, Sir Albert?”
“Don’t say that, Your Majesty. I plan to find a way to survive now.”
“Here?”
Vicente looked around. The soldiers had momentarily shrunk back at Fernandez’s fierce momentum, but they would resume their advance in a few minutes. There was no way out except retreating to the inner city, but even that would be a difficult path to survival.
But Fernandez chuckled and said, “Our allies have reached the enemy’s rear. And beyond this ridge, reinforcements are rushing here as we speak. Your Majesty, will you retreat or hold your ground?”
“Reinforcements…? Who could possibly be helping us?”
The knights under his command had already scattered across the eastern alliance, and even if they returned, a full-scale battle would be impossible. They couldn’t be exhausted here. They would be needed later to isolate Phaeirn’s main force.
In response to Vicente’s question, Fernandez grinned and said, “The priests and the barbarians, Your Majesty.”
Fernandez leaped down from his saddle and stood beside Vicente. He smacked the horse to send it away and adjusted his grip on the sword hilt.
“So let’s hold on. There’s still a chance.”
Two men holding back an advance of thirty thousand. Of course, it was absurd. But Fernandez simply stared straight ahead.
In his past life, and in this one. He had never given up just because something seemed impossible. Possibility and impossibility were not up for debate. It was only about whether it needed to be done or not.
And this, it needed to be done. Until the Papacy’s temple knights struck the enemy’s rear and the northern barbarians hit their flank.
They had to hold the enemy here.
When thousands of hammers struck, the two of them had to be the anvil that endured.
It had to be done. To save the king. And perhaps, to sever the thick, stubborn bonds of this relentless past life that could now be called karma.
“Come, I am Albert of Sernerd. A knight.”
Vicente burst into laughter at those words. He raised his blade beside Fernandez and stepped forward with a cheerful stride.
“I’ve been watching. Alright, Sir Albert. Let’s give it a try.”
A boy who grew up reading knightly epics now raises his sword to write his own. The two walked toward the forest of steel made of spears and swords.
* * *
-Clop, clop, clop.
The sight of a thousand mounted knights walking in a leisurely line was utterly surreal to the infantry on the plain. Facing the rising eastern sun, scattering metallic light from one horizon to the other.
The priests walked. Slowly.
-Clop, clop.
Their advance was not accompanied by horns or drums to control the pace. There were no signalmen or trumpeters, as one might expect in a knightly charge. They simply walked, walked, and walked.
In this strange silence, the only sounds they made were the heavy friction of steel, the patient trot of hooves striking the ground, and the flapping of military flags in the headwind.
The white wool seemed to glow under the sunlight. Above it, the red patterns, like blood, were vividly imprinted in the soldiers’ minds. The inverse cross keyblade emblem. The seal of the Divine Warrior Vaitas. And above it, the dragon emblem with willow leaves.
The symbol of the Order of St. John Pilgrims.
-Thud, thud, thud!!
A group of mounted knights rushed to block their path. Since the siege was ongoing, Phaeirn’s legion, organized in a complex formation, had placed their cavalry units in the rear.
Phaeirn’s knights stood before the temple knights, crossing the plain. They stopped just out of arrow range, and the knight at the front opened his visor and shouted.
“Halt!! You are secular—”
They are trying to interfere in the internal affairs of the kingdom! If not, should I take it as your intention to step into the politics of the royal family under the pretext of divine events?!”
The knight’s cry was desperate. Their king would probably be quite pleased with their intervention. The small kingdoms of the Eastern Union would not sit idly by. The authority of the church would plummet.
Yet, despite this, the knight could not welcome their intervention. Whatever the kings thought, the idea of a thousand well-armed knights charging into their rear was terrifying enough just to imagine.
Of course, compared to the numbers of the Phaeirn army, it wasn’t a force worth much attention. Even with all the attendants combined, the combatants numbered only around two to three thousand. They could be a variable, but not enough to overturn the situation.
But how many casualties would occur in the process? And the biggest problem was that he would be the first to respond to the enemy cavalry’s charge. In other words, the knights here were prepared for death.
‘Damn it, where are those Griffin Knights and what are they doing…?!’
If the Griffin Knights had been here, they could have pressured them with force, but the Phaeirn cavalry’s strength did not surpass that of the Order of St. John Pilgrims. The knight swallowed hard and waited for the priest’s words.
However, the priests just stared at them without answering.
“Say something! Damn it, no. Retreat! If you retreat, I swear our kingdom will not target your rear!”
Still, these pilgrimage knights made no reply and simply stared at them in silence. Only then did the knight recall their identity and turned pale.
The Order of St. John Pilgrims was famous for each member being a temple priest and for taking a very special vow.
‘The Vow of Silence…!’
One of the priestly vows from the old church era, a pledge to only speak words that are not frivolous before the Lord. In other words, priests who took this vow would not utter any words except for scripture.
By this era, except for a few cloistered monasteries of extreme fundamentalists, no priests took such outdated vows. Today’s priests were advisors, counselors, and guides who had to educate the people.
But the current Order of Pilgrimage Knights, descended from Pilgrim John and his disciples, were extreme fundamentalists.
Now they do not even speak scripture. They are not priests for the people, but only for serving God, and they never take the Lord’s name in vain.
There is a common saying among combat priests and temple knights.
‘Thy will be done.’
‘The Lord wills it.’
They do not even utter such conventional slogans for unity or faith. To them, it is too obvious.
So all that remains is action. If there is evil, they cut it down. If there is injustice, they cut it down. If the Lord wills it, they cut it down.
Originally, dialogue is the exchange of opinions between two parties. Therefore, they refuse dialogue. Their opinion is solely that of Lord Vaitas, and it is not something that can be moderated through worldly compromise!
“Say something… No, please. Just stop!!”
-Clack, clack.
It was as if a cliff was approaching. Like a natural force advancing. The knight watched with a pale face as the temple knights slowly walked towards them.
-Swish…!
“If you come any closer, I will take it as a signal for battle. Understand? This will be the seed of conflict between your church and the secular royal family!”
-Clack, clack.
The hooves heavily shook the ground. As if the knight’s cry was a signal, the horses that had been walking leisurely began to pick up speed. First, a walk.
-Clack, clack, clack.
Under the silence, gradually increasing to a trot.
-Thud, thud, thud…!
Now, a canter. The lances were raised, ready for the first charge. Seeing this, the knight hastily turned his horse and shouted as he circled the ranks.
“The dialogue is over! All troops, prepare to charge! Knights, prepare to charge!!”
-Thud, thud, thud!!!
300m, 250m, 150m. The ranks of the two knights quickly closed in on each other. The cavalry lances were tightly drawn under their shoulders, and the heavily armored knights exhaled heavily under their helmets, glaring at each other.
100m. The final speed for the charge was a gallop. The mounted knights on both sides extended their lances towards each other in less than a second—
-Crash!!!
The impact of horses, men, and steel screaming struck the rear of the Phaeirn army.
* * *
Watching this scene, Kirhas chewed her lips. At the end of the pass, her lord was fighting a precarious battle, and the temple knights, overwhelmingly outnumbered, began their charge from the enemy’s rear.
She anxiously looked back and forth between the mountain slopes and the pass below, nervously biting her lips. No matter how impressive their momentum was now, the difference in numbers was not something easily overturned.
Fernandez’s plan was completely unraveled. To her, this battle was nothing but a beautiful defeat and a grand retreat. The enemy was only momentarily confused, and as soon as the command regained composure, the situation would quickly turn for the worst.
“Lady Freya, hurry!!”
She finally couldn’t hold back and shouted. Towards the northern goddess who might be listening. Then, from the tree she was leaning against, a blue flower bloomed with a pop.
Soon, the flowers burst one by one, climbing higher along the tree trunk. She stared blankly at the scene and looked up.
-Screech!
In the blue sky at the top of the tree, a hawk was soaring.
“Aeren!!”
-Crunch!
The branches intertwined themselves, forming a long arched passage. At the end of the passage, stretching straight across the mountain ranges like a tunnel, a group of men approached.
Kirhas finally smiled brightly and quickly mounted her horse. At the forefront of the men, a warrior woman tightly gripping a battle axe smiled back at her.
“Northern heroes always arrive at the right time.”
“We’re already late, aren’t we?”
“Southern clocks are a bit fast.”
Aeren laughed and shouted in the northern tongue.
“Then let’s finish it quickly as you wish. Warriors!! Charge for the hall of our ancestors! With so many Muspel followers left on this land, let’s show the might of the Einherjar!”
The warriors’ roars tore through the mountains and rivers. The soldiers below the mountain slopes halted their advance and looked at the mountain ranges surrounding the pass.
-Whoa!!!
It was as if the mountains were roaring. Zigismund, amidst the chaotic command, pressed his temples and shouted with a boiling voice.
“What the hell is going on!!”
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