Chapter 126
Chapter 126: Friend and Foe
The Niboria Empire is a thoroughly militaristic nation.
Children, whether born on the southern plains, the central wastelands, or the northern snowfields, began learning to become soldiers from the moment they could walk. They built calluses gripping swords, and instead of lullabies, grew up listening to songs that boasted of a warrior's valor.
"Sword and spear, shield alone forges the strong! Tears are for comrades, and pain is the stepping stone to growth! Take up your weapons!"
Inevitably, dozens of legion banners flew across the royal capital.
When children became young adults, they were divided by age and talent according to long-standing tradition and assigned to different units. They had walked the training grounds before the down on their lips had even grown, and the moment they qualified, they swore loyalty under the imperial banner.
And so they served for life, moving between battlefields, and growing old.
"Old man, it's time to return home!"
"……It was an honor to have served alongside you."
Most returned to the places where they were born and raised, but among them, an extremely small number were chosen by the imperial household. A unit of veterans who had endured countless battlefields, leapt over the corpses of their comrades, and survived to the very end.
The Silver Shield Legion.
The Empire's Last Shield.
There, they gathered only the oldest, the hardest, and the most fearsome. Sometimes victorious in war, sometimes defeated—but those who remained at the end were always the same ones.
As a result, the nobles mocked them as 'the imperial household's cleanup crew', yet the knights of foreign nations expressed both fear and reverence.
"They are men who may fall but never break."
"As a single legion, they could be called the finest on the entire continent."
Their numbers ranged from as few as two thousand to, at their peak, over seven thousand. Yet what forged their towering reputation was never a matter of headcount.
Even now, in the course of holding back the forces of darkness, they had made their presence powerfully felt.
"I heard the Silver Shield Legion saved Viscount Atrim and the knights under his command."
"Viscount Atrim…… I'd heard he was fighting on the eastern front? He managed to hold out against those wicked things?"
"That's right. Even as the defensive line collapsed, they held their position to the very end. They are veterans of a hundred battles, after all."
A legendary legion.
After regrouping in the rear, they moved once again to stand against the empire's enemies.
And then—
"They're saying it's to drive out foreign enemies? Who are the foreign enemies?"
"……The Mountain Rabbits? Why on earth?"
Public sentiment was thrown into great turmoil.
***
The imperial capital, Cardium.
A great rift had already opened within the sprawling metropolis at the heart of Niboria.
Outside the outer walls, refugees had flooded in until there was no room to stand. The shadow of the ramparts stretched long like the last light of dusk, and inside the city, rumors, hope, and unease spread through every alley and lane.
Just then, three or four merchants gathered in the central plaza and murmured among themselves. The men who had come from the north and west were listening, while the one who had come up from the south led the conversation.
"I'm telling you, Marquis Ashapel didn't just retreat like that for nothing. He must have spoken with the Mountain Rabbits beforehand. About how important our empire is, and what kind of help he'd like from them."
"Did he really do that?"
"Just you wait. Before long, even the Marquis Ashapel's forces will finish regrouping and return."
"Hmm, but from what I heard, he returned without even receiving the imperial household's permission."
"Nonsense! That's a baseless rumor, I tell you!"
"Still, even if they join the alliance forces now……"
It wasn't because of the collapse of the eastern defensive line, or the processions of refugees, or the string of news about defeats. It wasn't even because the Mountain Rabbits had pushed into the southeast.
"Then what are we supposed to do? Didn't Sir Belgrado and Sir Akran also suffer grave injuries and pull back? So who's going to hold back those wicked things? Hmm? Answer me."
"……"
That was it.
The problem was the fact that the empire's Masters had been defeated. Their lives were spared, but returning to the front would require a considerable amount of time.
"Those two, honestly—if only they'd fought together. Why did they go out one at a time like that."
"They're Masters."
"Regardless, right now the Mountain Rabbits have to hold the line. This is no time to be standing on pride."
Soon, the two men fell silent. It was a wordless agreement. In truth, imperial citizens young and old alike were feeling the absence of the legion commanders acutely.
There is no news of victory.
And so, they hoped.
"Calix Ashapel, a man with imperial blood, is coming!"
"The Mountain Rabbits are no longer the enemy."
"Anyone will do—just drive out this darkness!"
And because of that, they were disappointed.
"I hear the Silver Shield Legion is pulling south?"
"What?"
"Apparently they've been sent to stop the Mountain Rabbits."
"……"
From that moment on, Emperor Caracal's reputation fell completely to the ground.
"The emperor has lost his mind!"
"He's not in his right senses. Even a three-year-old child wouldn't do such a thing."
"It's madness—he's suffering from madness!"
They say even a king gets cursed when he's not around to hear it.
But the outcome, once set, was not to be reversed. The Silver Shield Legion had marched south—and so a clash with the Mountain Rabbits was imminent.
"Just lose!"
Someone's shout perfectly reflected the fury of the public.
* * *
Deep in the small hours before dawn.
Calix sat outside the perimeter of the encampment with his sword at his side.
'It's been unfolding as intended so far.'
The Mountain Rabbits had been running without rest for the past several weeks.
After Godür Fortress fell, dozens of nearby villages and strongholds rushed one after another to declare surrender. Not a single flame, not a single scream could be heard along the roadside. The lesser nobles opened their gates of their own accord, and village administrators offered up food and supplies while begging for mercy.
Moving forward in silence, as though reclaiming what was rightfully theirs, they seized two-thirds of the empire's southeast. The pace was too swift for resistance to mean anything.
'All that remains are the high-ranking nobles.'
Their final destination, the County of Vistraat, was right before them. Whether the other side would choose to fight, or reach out a hand instead—that would be revealed once the sun rose.
No more complex scheming.
In the darkness, he revisited the memories of past battles.
Alnir Barenfeld kicks free of the stirrups and charges.
He drew his sword in kind and pushed the output of his Neural Accelerator to its limits. With his bloodline ability he read the opponent's reactions in advance, and following the form of his swordsmanship, he thrust his blade forward.
'The Clear Mirror—reflected everything, as though in a looking glass.'
Yet it was the same as usual, and yet somehow different. It wasn't that he judged and then moved—perception and action had merged into a single mass. Even without being at peak speed there was no deficiency, and though he read his opponent's movements, he was not bound by them.
He quietly drew in the cold air.
'Did I cross a wall?'
Calix savored the lingering sensation that remained at his fingertips. His own body had felt light, as though it had slipped free of a shackle.
Perhaps that sensation—
'The Empty Mind.'
Free to the extent that one has been emptied.
He felt he understood its meaning, if only a little. Without any tremor of emotion—no desire, no hesitation—he had simply cut. Of course, nothing in particular had changed afterward. The shift was so small it couldn't be perceived with the eye.
'And yet it is clearly different. I shouldn't have been dependent on my ability to see and sense mana. I need to shorten the split-second gap between perception and the moment action is taken.'
Just then, the terrifying image of Legion Commander Midra suddenly surfaced in his mind.
Midra Who Takes Away—a tyrant who wielded ice and the abyss. An instinctive, bone-deep wariness washed over him, enough to raise the fine hairs on the back of his neck on their own.
Even in a rematch, he could not guarantee victory.
'I still have far to go.'
Just as Calix was turning his shortcomings over in his mind, he heard footsteps from behind. He turned his head, and there stood a middle-aged man with ash-gray hair, rough wrinkles, and deep-set eyes.
It was Royce—the head of the Mountain Rabbits.
"Have a sip."
"……Yes."
He held out a steaming cup without preamble. A sweet smell. He had boiled the coconut palm fruit offered up by Grima's mercenary captain.
"Coming all the way out here alone—your head must be full."
"Yes. Between the eastern nobles and various other things, there's been quite a lot to work through."
Even in their first private moment in a long while, there was no sense of distance. The two spoke in turn of the situation within the empire, the mage Yelayen, the dark legion commanders, and more.
At the end of it, a single quiet question slipped out.
"Leading this many mercenaries isn't easy. Are you still turning it over in your mind?"
"……"
Calix nodded without a word, and Royce answered with a faint smile.
"It's a natural thing. A leader must always be uneasy. You have to look back at the present and the past, and examine whether you've made any wrong judgments."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"And you…… Are doing well."
"……"
"You're pulling it off magnificently. Far beyond what I had hoped or expected."
It was a strangely curious thing. That just a few words, a small word of praise, could bring such enormous joy and relief. Thanks to it, his heart felt at ease, if only for a moment.
But the calm atmosphere did not last long.
"Calix, Count Bermak has requested a meeting."
At Airien's words, the two of them rose from their seats almost simultaneously. In the end, the great lord of the southeast had raised the white flag.
* * *
Crunch, crunch.
Beneath a suffocating silence, Count Larentz Bermak crossed through the Mountain Rabbits' encampment. As sharp gazes poured over him, he tried to steady his own heart.
'These people—they would have been nothing more than foreign brigands, wandering mercenaries.'
But now, that prejudice lay shattered to pieces.
A field packed densely with tents. Moving between them were not only humans. Elven lance cavalry swept their golden hair in the wind, and enormous rock boars exhaled threatening gusts from their snouts.
In addition, southern mercenaries with copper-toned skin and men from the central continent flexed the muscles of their forearms, and there was even a figure who was unmistakably from Kalahim.
"You people are quite…… Distinctive."
"Yes indeed, we are."
Volga, guiding the way, shrugged his shoulders. It was nothing new. Among the Mountain Rabbits, species, origin, and past social standing held no meaning whatsoever.
Only strength and ability determined hierarchy.
"Are there no conflicts?"
"No conflicts? We're beating each other up every other day."
"Then how do you resolve it when that happens? Military discipline must be falling apart."
"We settle it the way mercenaries do. We count the knots to determine who's in the right, and if that still doesn't sort things out, we go to the Mountain Rabbits for arbitration."
"Is that possible?"
"We do it because it works."
"……"
Count Bermak realized he had asked a foolish question. The Mountain Rabbits are mercenaries too. Or rather, they were.
Veterans sat by the campfire cleaning their weapons, and in the distance the sound of dwarves hammering helmets rang out. It was a formation strangely blended of order and discord.
Right—these people had long since leapt far beyond the standard of 'wanderers'.
'I should have negotiated a little sooner. But…… Who could have known they'd push in this fast.'
Regret, no matter how quickly it comes, is always too late.
And at the center of it all stood one man, composed and unhurried. In front of the central command tent, Calix had come out to receive him.
"Count Larentz Bermak."
"Calix, Sir Ashapel. Is that how I should address you?"
"Calix is sufficient. For now, that is."
At those last words, the count squeezed his eyes shut.
Those sharply carved features, and that gaze—so unlike anyone else his age. This man called Calix knew precisely where each of them stood.
Sure enough, his opening words broke expectations entirely.
"The eastern and southern regions of Niboria are divided by the Marbius River. Go south of it and you face the southeastern plains; follow the river upstream to the left and you reach the imperial capital. And yet, I've heard that those important strongholds have fallen to the forces of evil."
"What are you saying right now……"
"Even if Your Excellency rallies the remaining forces, five thousand at the most. And of those, the elite will have already been pulled to the eastern front."
"……Are you threatening me?"
"Yes."
His lips trembled. The tone was calm from start to finish, which only doubled the impact. And yet it was an undeniable fact.
As he said—the county was facing enemies above and below.
One was the Mountain Rabbits; the other, the forces of darkness.
"You…… have no will to negotiate? The honor of Ashapel is not so light."
"There is neither the time nor the room to yield anything. The imperial emperor has lost his reason, and the forces of darkness could spill south at any moment."
Rude and blunt, but not wrong.
The count steadied his breathing several times before quietly asking in return.
"……What do you want?"
Calix did not hesitate.
"Delegate to us the military authority, administrative authority, and the right to conscript troops in the southern region. In addition, you must send a joint petition letter to the emperor under the names of the southern nobles."
His brow knotted hard.
"You are demanding I become a traitor. This is the same as telling me to hand over my territory with nothing but an empty shell remaining."
"But there is no other option."
His mind went blank.
'A dead end. The moment I refuse, there is no way out.'
He had not yet heard the news of the Silver Shield Legion's deployment—but even had he known, nothing would have changed. Whether two factions clashed, or three became entangled, it amounted to the same thing.
The low ramparts of Bistras could not hold back the Mountain Rabbits.
"I…… I……"
At that moment, a hand quietly extended toward him.
"In return, I give you my promise—a restructuring of the order after the war."
"Restructuring of the order?"
"We did not come to conquer this land."
Only then did clarity snap back into him.
Having been pressed so hard by the other side, he had failed to see a new possibility. The emperor's misrule and the invasion of the forces of darkness.
If, in that situation, the entire south were to rise—
'……It may be a gamble worth taking.'
Faintly, the light of an exit appeared.
"And if I refuse?"
"Return home. And accept the consequences of your choice."
"……"
Shortly after, the sound of a quill scratching across paper rang out. The count could not bring himself to push up from his seat and storm out, and Calix and the Mountain Rabbits obtained what they wanted.
It happened just before the Silver Shield Legion arrived.