From a Broken Engagement to the Northern Grand Duke's Son-in-Law

The army of Duke Artezia marched on the Imperial Capital.

Though it bore his name, the duke himself was not its commander. He was no fool. A man of his station did not risk his own neck on the front lines when he had others to do it for him.

“The Imperial Capital,” the man at the head of the column murmured, squinting at the distant walls. “Finally in sight.”

He was the knight granted the honor of Vanguard Captain, and operational command of the duke’s forward forces was his alone.

“Captain,” a subordinate said, riding up beside him, “something feels wrong about the enemy’s formation. They’re just… waiting. As if they’re daring us to charge.”

“Is it?” the captain scoffed. “From where I’m sitting, they look terrified. One good push and they’ll break.”

“Perhaps we should wait for the main army, sir. With the duke’s elite guard, victory would be certain.”

“Ha!” The Vanguard Captain snorted, turning in his saddle. “Are you suggesting we run, knight? With the enemy right there for the taking? Whelps who are already trembling in their boots?”

“That wasn’t my meaning, sir.”

“Or would you rather I hand all the glory to those upstarts in the main army?” the captain roared, his eyes flashing. “Is that what you want? To see me disgraced for cowardice while they reap the rewards? Is that it?”

The subordinate bit his lip and bowed his head. “My apologies, Captain.”

The captain clicked his tongue, waving a dismissive hand. “Tsk. See to the men’s morale. Strategy is my domain. Yours is to keep them steady. Question my command again, and I’ll have your head on a pike before we march another step. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” The knight bowed again before melting back into the ranks.

The captain watched him go, a sour taste in his mouth.

Cowards. I’m surrounded by them.

To wait for the main army would be an admission of his own incompetence.

Of course, if his life were truly on the line, he would gladly hand over command… but there was no sign of that.

The First Prince had nowhere left to run. How could a powerless, talentless boy hope to defeat an army of this size?

He’d sooner believe the Demonkin could sweep through the ducal lands unopposed.

A smirk twisted his lips. After this battle, his star would rise. Not those pampered favorites in the main army, but him. He would earn the duke’s personal favor.

Heh heh… and to do that, I must be the one to capture the Emperor.

Lost in his vision of glory, the Vanguard Captain raised his sword, the polished steel catching the morning light.

The distance to the Imperial army had closed. All that remained was the clash.

“All units, draw steel!” His voice, amplified by command and arrogance, boomed across the vanguard. “Chaaaaarge!”

The first battle of the civil war had begun.

* * *

Steel crashed against steel. The Imperial line buckled but did not break, desperately holding against the onslaught.

“Hold the line!” an Imperial officer bellowed. “Opportunity comes to those who endure!”

“Hah! Serving that cowardly prince has driven you mad!” the ducal Vanguard Captain shouted, his laughter manic as he drove an Imperial knight back. “Fine, then! Endure! I’ll give you an hour before you break!”

The Imperial knight blocking his attack gritted his teeth.

Hell… my wounds haven’t even healed.

The war against the Demonkin had left scars, and he could feel them tearing open with every parry. Now this.

His commanders had ordered them to buy time at any cost, but he had his doubts.

Their numbers, the quality of their knights… we’re outmatched in every way. How can we…

He didn’t understand the strategy, but an order was an order. He wasn’t a soldier because he didn’t fear death; he was a soldier because he had a nation and a family to protect.

He had to stop them here.

“Bahahaha! Where’s that confidence now? Why the long face? Give me more! More!”

The Vanguard Captain was a high-level Aura Expert, his blade a blur of silver light.

The Imperial knight felt his own defense crumbling. This is it…

Just as he braced for the final blow, chaos erupted from the rear of the ducal army.

“Enemy attack! To the rear!”

An enemy attack? That meant they were allies. What’s happening?

The sudden turmoil seemed to distract the Vanguard Captain; his assault faltered for a fraction of a second.

It was the only opening the knight needed.

Clang!

He slammed his blade against the captain’s, shoving him back and creating distance.

“You—!”

The captain raised his sword furiously to strike again, but he froze.

A boy had appeared as if from thin air, his gaze fixed upon him.

“…So you’re the commander.”

“W-wait…!” the captain stammered, a flicker of horrified recognition in his eyes.

A whisper of steel, a crimson arc, and the captain’s head tumbled from his shoulders.

Thud.

The boy glanced down at the fallen head, his expression unreadable. “The young master mustn’t be delayed.”

Watching him, the Imperial knight understood.

The hammer had finally fallen.

* * *

The hammer and the anvil. It was a strategy as old as war itself, detailed in every military textbook on the continent.

A larger force, the anvil, would engage the enemy head-on, pinning them in place. Then a smaller, elite strike force—the hammer—would smash into their flank or rear.

A meat grinder, some called it.

The previous Emperor himself had said that a successful hammer-and-anvil strike could turn the tide of any war.

Of course, its success depended entirely on the power of the hammer. The anvil’s only job was to endure.

And our hammer was arguably the most powerful strike force on the continent. Four Grand Masters. The enemy vanguard likely consisted of high-level Experts at best. Their Masters would be with the main army.

Which meant I could kill them all before they even knew what hit them.

My master’s arrow flew like a cannonball, exploding in the rear of the ducal army and shattering their formation.

“R-ruuuun!”

With their rearguard collapsing, the ducal soldiers scattered.

To fall into such disarray from a single attack confirmed my suspicions: the true strength of their army lay with the main host. The ones I’d seen before, when I’d finished off the Twelve Nobles.

The twin knights who used those red jewels, their Aura feeling unnervingly similar to that of the Demonkin. If there were more like them, things could get complicated. It was best to assume they were now on par with the Twelve Nobles.

A worst-case scenario, but one we had to prepare for. We needed to end this quickly, before they arrived.

“Lancelot. Roxen. Take the front.”

“Yes, sir!”

“As you command!”

They shot forward.

<Gale Drive>

<Lindal’s First Form: Wrath>

A hurricane of raw Aura tore through the ducal ranks. Screams were swallowed by the storm as soldiers were swept away like autumn leaves.

How much time passed, I couldn’t say. Soon, the only ones left standing were a handful of trembling knights.

“D-don’t come any closer!”

“Gods… we should never have come!”

They threw down their weapons, crying for surrender. According to the laws of war, they were to be taken as prisoners.

However.

“Take no prisoners,” I commanded, my voice flat and cold.

This wasn’t just a war against the ducal army. It was a war for survival against two enemies: the duke and the Demonkin.

We couldn’t afford to feed prisoners. We couldn’t afford the risk of betrayal.

I wasn’t foolish enough to harbor such a threat in our midst, and I knew the First Prince would agree.

I put an arrow through the head of the last ducal knight and took a breath. The battle had been short, but our allies had been on the defensive for a long time, and their faces were etched with exhaustion.

And yet, they were all looking at me, their eyes filled with a silent, waiting hope.

Ah. That’s what they need.

A faint smile touched my lips. I raised my bow high into the air.

“We have slain the vanguard of the rebel army!” I roared, my voice carrying across the blood-soaked field. “This is our victory!”

A single, unified roar erupted from the exhausted soldiers, a wave of sound that shook the very ground. Get full chapters from novel⸺fire.net

I watched them, a wry smile on my face.

It was then that I felt it.

A vile, slithering sensation, like a cold snake gliding across my skin. No, it was deeper than that.

A fundamental revulsion rising from the core of my being.

…What is this?

I sharpened my senses to their absolute limit, scanning my surroundings. Even with Clairvoyance, I saw nothing.

Was I imagining it?

…No.

I trusted my instincts. This was real. It was simply something I couldn’t see.

I closed my eyes, spreading my Aura outward like a net.

And in that instant…

The vile sensation crawled over me again. A thick, sinister energy. It was clinging to me.

“…Found you.”

Having pinpointed the source, I activated my Halo.

Simultaneously.

<Divine Beast Invocation>

I fired an arrow of pure Aura toward the source point.

The arrow slammed into the ground at my feet, unleashing a massive shockwave.

The earth buckled as an explosion threw up a cloud of dust, obscuring my vision.

But I ignored it, my eyes fixed on the point of origin.

“You can come out now,” I called out.

“…To think you noticed.”

A woman’s voice drifted from the epicenter of the blast. The voice emanated from the source of that vile energy.

From my own shadow.