Chapter 148
Blue Blood (2)
Including Baron Ripe’s infantry and the mercenaries he had hired, nearly six hundred soldiers had taken part in the siege.
Fewer than two hundred returned alive.
The inner fortress walls of Winterband were frozen solid beneath a layer of frost so thick it looked as though the fortress wore armor.
Ordinary frost was usually as thin as snow.
But the frost created by Count Goethe was thicker than a sword hilt and razor-sharp.
Countless layers of it were interlocked like teeth.
At this point, it was beyond the reach of any battering ram.
At the very least, they would need a mage of Third Class or higher to bombard it with fire magic.
However, the mages Baron Botmer had brought were mostly mercenary spellcasters of First or Second Class.
The blizzard had begun raging again.
Within it, the dark silhouette of Winterband looked ominous.
The gate resembled a gaping maw, while the frozen walls looked like a colossal frost giant from a demonic realm lying prone upon the earth.
Catapults and cannons once again shattered the night air.
Cannonballs, boulders, pitch, and nets packed with jars that induced madness struck the fortress without pause.
Yet the fortress remained silent.
It felt as though they were slashing at ghosts with swords and spears.
“Tell them to keep bombarding it without rest for two days.”
The Baron gave the order.
After bowing, the chief engineer left the personal tent.
“It’s Romer. May I enter?”
“Come in.”
A knight stepped inside.
“So Waller failed to return?”
“Yes.”
The Baron took a sip of wine.
“I heard it from the soldiers who came back. They said the enemy commander took his head.”
“That’s right.”
“Among the mercenaries, that man seems rather famous. They call him the Butcher Baron. As long as he stands, ordinary infantry won’t be able to open the gates. I will lead the assault in two days.”
The Baron silently stared at Romer.
Rage filled the knight’s face.
Among all of the Baron’s knights, Waller and Romer had cared for one another the most.
They had both been orphans taken in at the same time.
Bonds were such convenient things.
They inspired motivations that no material reward could ever replace.
“Romer.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Waller was my son.”
“Yes.”
“They took my son from me.”
The Baron’s voice was filled with grief.
It was not an act.
Raising a knight like Waller required years of investment and enough money to build several castles.
And he had lost two such knights.
Chevalier and Waller.
Their deaths were devastating losses.
The sense of loss was far greater than when his biological son, Rutger, had died.
In his youth, he had indulged in countless affairs with women.
If he wished, he could likely find other illegitimate children.
But powerful and loyal knights were different.
Talent.
The will to endure training and trials.
And above all, absolute loyalty toward their lord.
Only when all those qualities came together could such a knight exist.
Their value could scarcely be measured in money.
And that treasure had been stolen from him twice by Count Goethe and his son.
“But Romer, you are my son as well. I fear losing you too.”
“...Father.”
Romer’s voice trembled with emotion.
“If you choose to go, I will not stop you. Waller was like a brother to you. But promise me one thing.”
The Baron paused.
“Come back alive.”
“...I will return after taking my revenge.”
Dropping to one knee, Romer answered with unwavering resolve.
“Good.”
The Baron slowly placed a hand on Romer’s shoulder and patted it gently.
“That’s enough. Go and rest. You’ll need your strength for the battle.”
“Yes, sir.”
Romer left the tent with an expression filled with emotion.
The Baron’s gaze had not been on him.
His clouded eyes were fixed on the tent wall and the ground below it.
For some time, a field mouse had been lingering nearby.
Once Romer departed, the mouse approached.
A tightly rolled note was clenched in its mouth.
A message from the old druid Melgara.
The Baron’s eyesight was too poor to read the tiny handwriting.
He slowly brushed his fingertips across the note.
The Moon is displeased.
The Sun moves while hiding behind clouds.
The Shadows press for haste.
The message was written in code.
The Sun referred to the First Prince.
The Moon referred to the Second Prince.
The Shadows referred to members of the parliamentary faction and the Empire.
The Baron understood the rest of the message.
The impatient Second Prince, the parliamentary faction, and the Empire all wanted results quickly.
Whether that meant the beginning of a full civil war or the fall of Winterband, they intended to charge down the road Botmer had paved.
But there was one part he did not understand.
“Hiding behind clouds...”
If the message had simply said that the Sun was moving, it would have meant the First Prince was marching to war.
But moving while hidden behind clouds implied something entirely different.
There was no way the First Prince was unaware of the war between Botmer and Goethe.
Both the parliamentary faction and the royalists would be watching closely.
In a situation like this, for the First Prince to avoid acting openly and instead move in secret—
The Baron could not understand it.
“Has he decided to abandon Goethe?”
He frowned.
Events were not unfolding according to his plans.
***
Two days later.
Romer led Botmer’s elite troops in an assault on Winterband.
The fortress fell with absurd ease.
The blizzard that had begun days ago still raged.
The frost covering the walls remained as hard as ever.
Yet beyond the inner walls—
Winterband’s inner fortress was silent as a grave.
After two days of relentless snowfall, drifts in some places had reached knee height.
Across the endless white landscape, not a single footprint could be seen.
The corpses of soldiers and magical beasts scattered throughout the fortress were buried beneath the snow.
Among them, Romer found his brother without difficulty.
Waller.
His severed head had been mounted on a spear, his eyes still open in death.
They must have raised it high to break the morale of Botmer’s army.
Crack—
The moment Romer gripped the spear shaft, it shattered in his hand.
Waller’s eyes would not close.
His frost-covered face was frozen to the bone, as though it would shatter like glass if touched with too much force.
There was nothing Romer could do for him now.
All he could do was look upon the face twisted by pain and regret and remember the days they had spent together.
Cradling Waller’s head in one arm, Romer approached the gate.
His boiling emotions—
His rage and killing intent—
Erupted outward as Aura.
Dark blue Aura filled the sword hanging from his free hand.
Again and again, Romer hacked at the gate covered in the Count’s frost magic.
If one strike was not enough, then two.
If two were not enough, then three.
If three failed, then four.
Rumble—
Ice fragments exploded outward with thunderous crashes.
“Huff... Huff... Huff...”
His breathing grew ragged.
Blue blood dripped from his nose and mouth.
At last, the gate that had been frozen shut crashed to the ground.
“Raise Botmer’s banner.”
Romer gave the order to his squire.
“And find them.”
His face was twisted like that of a vengeful demon.
***
Hans could not move a single finger.
He had already realized it when Carlson and Evervine began fighting.
This was not a war he belonged in.
And yet, as Carlson’s squire, as Isaac’s attendant, and as Peter’s father—
he wanted to fulfill his duty.
That was why he had taken up a sword.
If it helped his allies even a little, it could be called courage.
But if it only got in the way, then it was recklessness.
Hans realized far too late that he had been reckless.
He fought among the ranks of the Black Eye Mercenary Company.
The Black Eyes, whom Bernsi’s mayor had recommended, fought well.
They did not yield against the soldiers of Mark and Hauzen.
Rather, they broke apart the enemy formation and pushed forward.
Even among the mercenaries were several Aura users who had long surpassed ordinary humans.
They split enemy soldiers apart with axes and hurled fully armored men with one hand.
Inspired by their exploits, Hans too cut down several enemies.
At last, he was fulfilling the role of a proper soldier.
When allies were in danger, he helped them.
When he was in danger, they helped him.
Amid a battlefield so chaotic that the white snowfields were stained red with blood, Hans finally understood how reassuring it was to have someone guarding his back.
He still felt instinctive revulsion whenever he looked into the faces and eyes of enemy soldiers dying by his hand.
But when he reminded himself that war was a matter of killing or being killed—
he realized those feelings were luxuries.
He became fully aware of that fact when the battle line he had formed together with the mercenaries collapsed.
Because of a single man.
The long-haired man walked leisurely forward with a bow slung over his shoulder.
A short sword hung in one hand.
No one could stop him.
Not even the strongest Aura users among the Black Eyes.
Limbs were severed in chunks.
The mercenaries who had charged forward with courage founded on contracts and trust all met death.
Wherever the long-haired man walked, pools of blood formed.
It was as though he had eyes in the back of his head.
No matter where the mercenaries attacked from, they could not inflict even a scratch on him.
Even as the mercenaries died like dogs, Hans remained alive.
Because he was afraid.
Because fear prevented him from taking even a single step forward.
Eventually, no allies remained around him.
Hans stood alone.
The nearest Vinfelt soldiers were fighting far away.
The long-haired man’s eyes met Hans’s.
They were less than five steps apart.
Hans’s sword trembled.
In truth, his entire body was shaking.
Splash.
The long-haired man walked through the blood pools he had created.
His pace was slow, but his gaze remained sharp as it swept across the battlefield.
Raise your sword. Raise your sword. Raise your sword.
Hans pleaded with his unresponsive body.
Splash.
Raise your...
Splash.
You have to raise...
The long-haired man was suddenly right in front of him.
Splash.
Splash.
Then the man walked right past Hans.
As though Hans did not exist.
As though he was invisible.
He ignored him completely.
When Hans finally turned around, the man was already gone.
“Huff— Huff—”
Hans collapsed to the ground.
The severed heads of allies lay scattered around him.
He felt no anger.
No desire for revenge.
He simply vomited.
***
Ninety-eight, ninety-nine...
Falkenwald had nearly wiped out an entire Vinfelt mercenary company.
His eyes scanned the battlefield constantly.
He had no time to concern himself with insignificant opponents.
He only killed the enemies who attacked him.
He needed to conserve as much strength as possible.
The wound in his side, inflicted by a barbarian at the very start of the battle, was gradually widening.
One hundred. One hundred one...
The moment the javelin flew toward Karl,
Falkenwald had already sensed it.
This was not a battle they could win.
The mercenaries and soldiers Baron Vinfelt had brought were not particularly threatening.
The real danger was the fur-clad barbarians.
One-on-one, he could defeat most of them.
Against two, victory became uncertain.
Against three, defeat was inevitable.
And there were barbarians whom even a one-on-one fight would be insufficient against.
The giant barbarian who had halted Evervine and Kyle’s duel with a single strike.
Just sensing the man's presence sent chills down Falkenwald’s spine.
Instinctively, he knew he could not defeat him.
Fortunately, the giant was not his opponent.
Aura surged like a storm on a distant front far from Falkenwald’s position.
Evervine and Giyong were likely confronting him.
I need to get Karl out of here immediately.
Unlike the soldiers of both armies who charged at one another as soon as the battle began, Falkenwald assessed the situation with perfect clarity.
In a losing battle, the most important thing was not losing what must not be lost.
Only then could there be a next time.
Evervine and Giyong can take care of themselves. Karl won’t die easily either.
Unlike Rutger, who had rejected his father’s trial for religious reasons, Karl had accepted it.
As a result, he possessed superhuman regenerative abilities.
Ordinary wounds could not kill him.
As long as he could be found, bringing him back alive would not be difficult.
Karl must survive.
If Baron Botmer died, Karl was the only remaining figure with the legitimacy, justification, and stability necessary to become the next head of the family.
The infamous Vinfelt Baron—
Karl could not be allowed to die fighting such a man.
“Kh.”
The barbarian charging at him had already taken two arrows and still refused to fall.
Axe and sword clashed five times.
Finally, deceived by one of Falkenwald’s feints, the barbarian exposed a vital opening.
Thrust.
Falkenwald drove his sword upward beneath the barbarian’s jaw.
The blade pierced through the skull and burst out the top of the head.
Blood and brain matter streamed down the steel.
Yet even then, the barbarian swung his axe one final time.
The weakened strike was easily blocked.
Still, it was enough to fill Falkenwald with disgust.
“One hundred five. These barbarians are insufferable.”
Only after decapitating the barbarian did Falkenwald resume moving.
His side felt hot.
The previous wound had opened further.
Blood mixed with cold sweat and dripped down his body.
Karl. Karl. Karl...
The more severe his injuries became and the more his stamina waned, the more anxious Falkenwald grew.
One hundred ten. One hundred eleven.
When the number of enemies he had cut down reached one hundred twelve—
“Karl!”
At last, Falkenwald found the heir of Botmer he had been searching for.
Several dozen paces away, Karl stood facing the Mad Baron.
Aura flickered at the Baron’s sword tip.
It was still crude and immature.
That level of Aura would not kill Karl.
After surviving his father’s trial, Karl possessed Aura comparable to the Baron’s knights.
Even if his head were severed, he could recover so long as it was reattached within a certain amount of time.
Karl’s vitality already rivaled that of magical beasts from the Demon Realm.
So if he could just endure for a little longer—
if Falkenwald could reach him—
Karl could be saved.
Falkenwald felt relief.
Whoosh.
“...!?”
That relief lasted only until the Mad Baron’s sword erupted in violet flames.
He had never seen Aura like that in his life.
“Ah...”
A faint groan escaped him.
Karl was engulfed in fire.
Botmer’s future was turning to ash before his eyes.