Chapter 125
Chapter 125: The March
Ownerless mountains, empty land. No phrase better captures the current state of the Niboria Empire's southeastern region.
The Mountain Rabbits placed over twenty small-to-mid-sized villages under their influence without fighting a single proper battle. They advanced several dozen kilometers, devouring a third of the southeast in an instant.
And because no looting occurred throughout the entire process, the rumors spread like wildfire across the empire.
Through none other than the mouths of war merchants.
"The south has fallen? What about Marquis Ashapel?"
"Apparently he returned to his own territory. Took the entire expeditionary force with him, from what I heard. The Emperor is said to be furious."
It took just three weeks for word to spread across all of Niboria.
This was the ripple effect of local merchants flocking wherever the money flowed. To them, there was no ally or enemy. Only customers called the Mountain Rabbits.
Furthermore, as spies mixed in among them, the emotional turmoil among the imperial citizens doubled.
First the regional nobles wavered, then soldiers' conversations drifted down from beneath the castle walls. In the marketplaces, news about the Mountain Rabbits sold faster than bread.
"To think the homeland would be invaded—just how long has it been?"
"How long? This is the first time."
"Good grief……"
At first it was anxiety and worry, but then came unexpected words.
"When you think about it, isn't this actually for the better? We must join forces to drive out the wicked. I hear the Astrians have joined the alliance. The Mountain Rabbits can't win by making enemies of the Niboria Empire either."
Yet past deeds come back to grab one by the ankle.
"But His Majesty the Emperor hasn't stopped the war until now. Would he really take our hand at this point?"
"W-well, they're people who know honor. Before a great cause, old conflicts like these be—"
"Listen to this frustrating fellow. What I'm saying is, they have justification, but what do we have? Isn't it as though the Mountain Rabbits are pressing a blade to the empire's throat? Would you stop obediently if you were them?"
Silence falls.
At some point, gazes locked onto the messengers passing through the city square. In the market alleyways, the half-truth that 'the Mountain Rabbits have occupied the south' had begun to circulate.
In remote areas, in their own way, pessimistic talk mixed across rural fields and beyond fences. Things like 'the local governor is preparing to flee to the capital'.
The board was flipped the moment the contents of the letter sent by the Mountain Rabbits leaked out.
"Calix Ashapel? Are you certain? That man used the Ashapel name?"
"That's what I'm telling you!"
One message resolves all doubts.
"The Mountain Rabbits have joined hands with Marquis Ashapel! They haven't come to invade. The young shield has…… returned to the empire!"
***
Southeastern Niboria Empire, near the village of Dengken.
The Mountain Rabbits are absorbed in preparations for deployment. Godür Fortress, the midway checkpoint, is only a day's march away. They maintain their plate armor, sharpen their blades, and check the condition of their warhorses.
Calix watched the scene while brushing Lunos's mane. Among the mercenaries, unfamiliar faces caught his eye.
"Just let me join too!"
"I said no. Where does a wet-behind-the-ears kid think he's going? Come back once you've got a neural accelerator."
"I fight just fine without one!"
"……"
"You weren't a Mountain Rabbit from birth either, mister!"
"Why you little—are you out of your mind, trying to get yourself killed!"
When fresh-faced boys came forward without a shred of fear, begging to be taken in, Adrian Deconti kicked them away.
"Rotten little brats……"
"Why didn't you just take them?"
Basim pours oil onto a boiling heart.
"How am I supposed to take them! They're barely twelve years old! No wait, why are the villagers just letting this happen?"
"Because this is the Niboria Empire. Unlike Astria, these are people who revere the strong."
"But we're their enemies, aren't we?"
"Even so, we're strong."
"Who is?"
"Me."
"Sorry?"
"……"
Just as the dwarf picked up his axe and a game of tag was about to begin, Calix turned his head toward the presence he felt nearby.
"Are you alright?"
It was Volga.
"What do you mean?"
"You signed the letter with Ashapel after your name. It seemed a bit sudden, so I'm asking. Before that, you were just 'Calix of the Mountain Rabbits'."
To the carefully posed question, he gave a sincere reply. It wasn't a decision he had made without any deliberation.
"There was simply no need to hide it. We're no longer a mere mercenary band. I thought I needed to accept all of it—the family name, the justification, the responsibility."
"You talked it over with the Captain, right?"
"Of course."
And yet, for some reason, the other party wore an awkward expression. Volga rubbed the back of his neck, but with his characteristic bluntness, he finally said what was on his mind.
"Even without making such complicated reasons, everyone already knows you're going to be the next Captain."
A small smile tugged at the corner of Calix's mouth.
He understood what his friend meant. Differences in swordsmanship skill were one thing, but a rise in status might have felt like a new distance had formed between them.
He soothed the other man with a calm voice.
"Being recognized as the Mountain Rabbits' next Captain and publicly declaring a family name to the entire empire are two slightly different things. The moment I use the Ashapel name, it becomes a political declaration in itself."
"……Right."
"Besides, we're mercenaries. Don't forget that."
"Huh?"
"We should make use of everything we can. Hadiya taught us that. Have you already forgotten?"
"No, I know! Of course I know! Hehehe."
A guileless yet crafty laugh flowed out at once. Volga may lack the ability to see the bigger picture, but he had long since grasped the gist of how things were moving.
"Calix, a letter from the Lord of Brongtan."
Just then, the elf Airien came bearing new tidings. The most significant change from before was that nobles from surrounding small-to-mid-sized fiefs were reaching out on their own initiative.
He broke the wax seal and skimmed through the contents.
-Calix Ashapel, this land still stands under the name of the imperial house. Bear in mind that indiscriminate plundering cannot be tolerated.
On the surface it carried a tone of warning, but both the means and the purpose were unclear. The sender was making demands in the way only nobles do—the noble's way.
'This is essentially a petition begging us not to touch them.'
Dozens of letters received so far. This one was no different. The ink that had bled at the end of the letter laid bare every trembling thought in the sender's heart.
'The lords of the southeast will not move.'
Yet if there were those who stood by and watched, there were also those who remained unchanged in their loyalty to the imperial house.
***
The following day, the Mountain Rabbits had Godür within sight. The fortress wall sat on flat ground, flanked on one side by a shallow river.
"The walls are low."
"The scale isn't large either. Shouldn't be difficult to take."
"Seems they never had defense in mind from the start."
Just as Vice-captain Marik and Zahira said, Godür's defensive conditions couldn't generously be called excellent. The wall stood roughly three meters high. An upper-rank swordsman could leap it in a single bound if they put their mind to it.
"Attack, attack, the best defense is offense and offense alone!"
Gregor's shout embodied the empire's cultural character in full. But in a situation like this, that aggressive attitude becomes a weakness.
Rattle, rattle, clank!
The drawbridge lowered, and a single knight came charging out from inside the gate.
"Cook Comrade, that man is Alnir Barenfeld."
"So you know him. Is there anything about his personality or traits?"
"Of course there is. I'm Niboria-born, after all. That man is stubborn as a rock—he won't move a single step without orders."
For Calix, this was unwelcome news. Sure enough, the middle-aged man on horseback fixed them with a razor-sharp gaze.
"Uninvited guests, do you know where you stand, coming here!"
Lunos moved his hooves forward naturally. The exchange between commanders was brief. Only a few words were needed to understand.
"I am Alnir Barenfeld, a retainer who serves the will of His Majesty the Emperor. Who are you!"
"Mountain Rabbits. Calix."
"At least you don't attach a false family name."
The other man's face bore countless marks—whether wrinkles or scars, it was hard to tell. His build was solid, and though the surface of his armor showed scratch marks, there wasn't a single speck of grime to be found.
'An upper-rank knight.'
A familiar scene flashed before him.
The exchange that followed was no different.
"For what do you draw your sword?"
"For myself, and for those at my side."
"That is a commoner's resolve—nothing but fine-sounding words! Strength is justice itself, so if you mean to stake your claim, trample over me and pass!"
Without leaving even the slightest room for negotiation, he drew his sword. Knowing there was no meaning in defending the fortress, he put forward only his own responsibility.
To this, Calix—
Shhhing.
Drew his sword in kind.
'He has ties to Gregor, but there is no time to hesitate here.'
Just then, the man in question spoke with a tone as though he were out for a stroll.
"Friend, let's finish it quickly. One must respect the opponent's decision."
"……"
"A man shackled by the glory of the past can neither shoulder the responsibilities of the present, nor welcome the life of tomorrow."
The amnesiac old man lends his usual nonsensical wisdom. Thanks to him, Calix could look deep into his own shortcomings.
'Letting go is far harder than accumulating.'
He looked down at the hand holding his sword for a moment. From one corner of his heart, the lingering compassion and attachment he had yet to release slowly drained away. Strangely, he felt no emptiness.
He felt light.
Clip-clop, clip-clop.
As he moved forward, the fortress walls and below—the entire southeastern plain fell silent as one. Everyone knew that the duel between the two swordsmen would determine the fate of the empire's southeast.
***
Two weeks later, Niboria Empire Central Region, Central Army encampment.
Dakar Raihe, the man responsible for defending the capital, widened his eyes at the messenger's report.
"Struck down in a single blow, you say? Alnir Barenfeld?"
"Yes."
"He was a former member of the Imperial Royal Guard Knights. Even against a top-rank knight, he was not someone who would yield his life in a single strike."
"But we've already completed cross-verification."
"……Are you certain?"
"Certain."
A murmur of contemplation followed. Having met both Calix and Barenfeld in person made it all the harder to believe.
"To think he has already risen to such a level."
The man who had once been the Knight Commander of Blutspheer reproached himself. It had been less than a year since his defeat at the hands of barely dozens of Mountain Rabbits in Astria's northern mountains. What would have happened if he had killed Calix then, if he hadn't been struck down by that monster called a Draug.
Yet paradoxically, a subtle joy also budded from one corner of his heart.
'This is truly a man of Ashapel. I need not feel nothing but shame for having lost to him.'
It seemed the wounds of the past had healed a little.
"Then now there is…… no one in the south to stop the Mountain Rabbits. So you've come to deliver His Majesty's orders?"
"Yes. Deployment orders."
And with that, Dakar found himself asking without meaning to.
"However, I understand the eastern front is in serious crisis. In my position, responsible for the capital's defense, there are parts that concern me. Has this been taken into account?"
"……Watch your words."
"Hmm, a slip of mine. I apologize."
The awkward atmosphere lasted only a moment.
He nodded upon hearing what was being asked of him.
"Select the finest troops from those being reorganized?"
"His Majesty has ordered us to cut off the flow of the traitors."
"How many are needed?"
"Count Bermak holds over five thousand territorial soldiers. We'll need at least ten thousand in total. Fortunately, since the enemy cavalry numbers only around a thousand, it should be fine to deploy primarily with infantry."
Five thousand of the finest.
A demanding request, but as it happened, one unit that fit the bill existed. Dakar personally escorted the imperial observer to them.
"Are those the ones?"
"They are."
When the hooves of their horses stopped at the outer edge of the encampment, the messenger's gaze turned toward the dust-covered barracks. His face flushed red in an instant—the scene was far from what he had expected.
Setting aside the soldiers' aged appearances, their conduct wasn't normal either.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
About fifteen or so men had gathered in front of a wooden crate, banging their plates against it. Next to them, someone endlessly tied and untied their shoelaces, while another chased after flying insects with a blank expression.
"My knees are aching…… it's soup for dinner tonight!"
"Soup! Soup!"
On top of that, an old man sitting before the campfire was dozing off with his torso armor draped over his head. Even that seemed better than the ones doing mock sparring with spoons.
At a glance, it was plain to see the place was filled with people not entirely in their right minds.
"This is…… The finest troops?"
The messenger's indignation, having watched with half his wits gone, directed itself at one person.
"Lord Raihe! What manner of outrage is this…… the imperial command is solemn law!"
But Dakar issued neither insult nor excuse. Instead, he sent a short shout toward the center of the encampment.
"Assemble!"
In that instant, the old men sprawled around the barracks radiated a chilling glint in their eyes. Though they had seemed scattered about in disorder, the distance between each of them and their personal weapons was uniform to a ruler's measure.
Like an old wagon getting an oil change, some came limping, some practically tumbled to put on their armor.
"Oh my, friends! My back!"
"Is-is your shield in one piece?"
"Of course."
"Then that's all that matters!"
Four thousand five hundred troops formed up in perfect order with the barracks at the center. Eerily fast alignment. Not one had escaped the passage of time, but their eyes alone burned with a singular desire for battle, as though forged as one.
Only then did the messenger's mouth fall shut.
He had, at last, realized who they were.
Trudge, trudge.
Soon, the commander walked out before Dakar Raihe.
"Erdman Falter. Deployment orders."
"Understood."
Without a single question, he simply struck the silver shield with his left fist and followed the orders. For seasoned warriors, only one thing mattered.
"Attack, attack, the best offense is defense and defense alone!"
"Leader friend, isn't that backwards?"
"……Well that just means you do defense like it's offense!"
"Ooooh!"
Yes.
Without a doubt—reminiscent of someone.