Ch#40
***
The knights departed quietly. As it was not a glorious expedition, there were no military ceremonies or grand marches.
A letter from the Capital instructed them to head south without stopping at the Imperial Palace. The situation on the battlefield appeared more urgent than expected.
Their journey south was long.
Supply distribution proceeded smoothly, and lords welcomed them wherever they went, but traversing the vast Imperial lands was no easy task. Moreover, having just lost their lord and comrades, they were in no mood to accept hospitality.
Mortheon refused all banquets, demanding only beds and food.
The knights traveled in silence.
Frequent messengers brought only grim news.
The Grand Duke and his knights had been slaughtered by assassins who attacked in the dead of night, but their identities and how they evaded detection remained unknown. As such forces were previously unheard of in the Southern Kingdom, the battlefield was in chaos.
“Who are they? Mercenaries? A secret squad?”
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is how they killed so many knights in one night.”
Leonard and Carlz spoke quietly. The three of them trailed behind the group, guarding the rear.
Victor said,
“Command is considering various possibilities. They suspect strong sleeping incense, knights with monstrous skills, or even wizards from the Eastern Kingdom.”
Leonard frowned.
“Wizards? Do such things really exist?”
“They might. But even in the Eastern Kingdoms, they’re rare.”
“It’s all nonsense. It had to be sleeping incense or something similar.”
Leonard clicked his tongue. Carlz responded immediately.
“I think wizards make more sense.”
“Why?”
“There’s no scent in the world that can put someone to sleep so deeply.”
He stated firmly, his tone sharp.
“It’s ridiculous to think those knights slept through the clash of swords.”
The two nodded quietly in agreement. As Knights of Morte, they knew their comrades’ skills well. None would have fallen so easily to assassins.
The three conversed softly. Under normal circumstances, they might have enjoyed the trip, but witnessing war’s toll had changed them. The deaths of family and comrades still weighed heavily on the young knights’ hearts.
Leonard asked,
“How much farther do we have?”
“About two days.”
“Okay…”
They were already deep in the south.
The trees were broader, and the lakes shimmered emerald.
As Carlz had said, it was beautiful, but neither Leonard nor Victor, who had never been south before, fully appreciated the scenery.
The battlefield loomed closer.
After a month’s march, they finally reached the southern tip of the continent.
***
The battlefield was a disaster.
The Imperial army was in disarray after several commanders, including the Grand Duke of Morte, were gravely wounded or killed. Morale, already eroded by the protracted war, plummeted further.
Amid this, plans for an assault on the Southern Kingdom’s main island only heightened the distraction.
Upon hearing the plan, Mortheon and Victor headed straight to the Imperial headquarters. That day, Victor felt his patience reach its limit.
“…I understand your point, Your Highness. It’s not that simple.”
“Is naval strategy truly so difficult?”
Mortheon asked as calmly as possible.
A chief of staff from a southern noble house twisted his mustache as he replied,
“Our military focuses on knights. Our navy is strong, but what use is it if our knights can’t participate? That’s why we deliberated for days before opting for the land operation.”
“But the Southern Kingdom is an island nation. Even without knights landing, sustained naval warfare could isolate them into surrender. No need for supply ships to support landing forces…”
“No, what of our honor?”
Another interrupted. The knight commander of a northern noble house raised his voice.
“We’ve gathered to defend this nation. What disgrace to return without drawing our swords?”
“Now’s not the time for concerns of disgrace.”
“Well, in my eyes, the Grand Duke is too soft.”
Victor cut in.
“That’s disrespectful. Do you know to whom you speak?”
All eyes turned to the young lord momentarily.
Victor clenched his jaw, glaring.
Their words were utter nonsense.
A more efficient path to victory existed, yet they pursued an absurd plan for honor’s sake. They branded as weak those who dared question it. It was hard to believe these were the Empire’s representatives.
Mortheon halted him with a stern look.
“…Enough. My apologies, sir. Forgive my brother’s rudeness.”
“It’s fine. You two are still young.”
The knight commander sneered.
Victor longed to sever the man’s tongue but balled his fists and restrained himself.
Mortheon rose calmly.
“Understood. That is command’s will. As part of the army, the Knights of Morte shall obey.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
Mortheon exited without delay.
Victor shot them a fierce glare before following.
***
The camp bustled. Soldiers hauled weapons and provisions to and fro.
Once clear of the tent, Victor spat,
“How dare he speak to you that way, brother?”
“It’s fine. It stings less than being dismissed.”
Mortheon gave a bitter smile.
“I thought we’d be ousted from command for protesting.”
“Protesting?”
“We lost our knight commander and knights in a single day. They’re undervaluing the Knights of Morte.”
Victor’s gut twisted.
Morte’s renown rested on its formidable knights.
Though a Grand Duchy, its remoteness from the Capital and social withdrawal kept it obscure. With knights slain, disdain followed. Mortheon voiced his brother’s thoughts.
“We can still fight.”
“…”
“Do you seek revenge?”
Victor met Mortheon’s gaze steadily.
His brother rarely spoke of vengeance. He taught mercy and forgiveness. Yet now, he permitted it.
Victor replied calmly,
“Yes.”
“Then let’s have it. Revenge.”
***
Soon, the operation day dawned.
The so-called “Southern Kingdom Landing Operation” was ignorantly simplistic.
After the navy breached defenses, the army would divide into groups, sail to the mainland, seize a city as base, and push inland.
Soldiers grumbled about garrisoning a humid tropical isle with supply woes, but command was resolute.
The first clash began at dawn.
As the navy bombarded, Morte’s knights readied launches.
Heavy plate, spears, and destriers were useless on wet sands. They donned leather armor, belted swords, packed sunburn salve, and rain cloaks.
The Southern navy, overwhelmed, withdrew.
Knights split into groups and rowed ashore.
“Damn it, what is this hell?”
Carlz slumped over the gunwale, cursing.
“If I’d known, I’d have stayed south and turned pirate.”
“Complaining of orders is unknightly, Carlz of Denion.”
Leonard rebuked.
Seasick for the first time, Carlz gaped,
“How can you sound so prim now?”
“I merely spoke of knightly duty.”
“I’d never issue such a foolish order.”
Victor sympathized silently but held his tongue. As future commander, his complaints would erode morale further.
He pondered upcoming fights, but shouts, waves, and the flawed plan tormented him.
He doubted he could fight effectively thus.
Yet Mortheon remained steady. Peering from his porthole, he called,
“Land ahead! Prepare to disembark.”
Knights gripped hilts, readying blades.
***
Landing proved simple. Civilians had fled; remaining forces scattered at the knights’ sight.
Mortheon shouted repeatedly,
“Spare those who won’t fight! Accept surrenders!”
‘Why?’
Victor wondered darkly.
Though he spoke of revenge, Mortheon seemed averse.
Still, he obeyed.
A lord’s command was absolute.
Victor restrained his strikes to wounds, letting foes flee.
Knights fortified base camp and signaled command.
Reply came swiftly.
Few landings were so smooth; one ship had sunk to cannon fire.
Morte’s knights tsked but pressed on.
In stifling heat, they gnawed endless jerky.
The long war began.
