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Varkas ordered his knights to reform their ranks, then remounted his horse.
They rode along the gentle ridge for some time until the distance narrowed enough for him to make out the faces of the approaching knights.
He fixed his eyes on the man at their head. Even beneath the helmet, the knight’s identity was unmistakable.
Kylias. One of the top ten in the hierarchy of the Roem Knights.
He was also someone Varkas had clashed with on more than a few occasions.
Elevated by his feats over the past two years, the knight approached with a triumphal air and offered a greeting.
“It has been a long time, Your Grace.”
“…What are you doing here?”
“It seems word has not reached you yet.”
His tone carried an unmistakable sneer.
“The lords of the northeast conspired with the Northern rebel remnants. Upon receiving the report, His Majesty immediately ordered us east to put down the traitors.”
A crease formed between Varkas’s brows.
As if savoring the displeasure, Kylias smirked and let out a mocking remark.
“Why such a grim look? Surely you are not displeased by the reinforcements His Majesty has dispatched.”
“…What exactly do you mean by the northeastern lords conspiring with the Northern remnants?”
“I suspect you know the answer well enough without me laying it bare.”
Kylias let the insinuation hang in the air.
Unable to stomach his impudence any longer, the Eastern knights—Beirof included—stepped forward with dark, menacing glares. Only then did Kylias click his tongue and add:
“Fifteen days ago, His Highness the Crown Prince took Blodar Keep. Thanks to that, we secured detailed records on every faction tied to the rebellion.”
Varkas’s brows twitched at the sudden news.
“Was there not a strict order to maintain the siege until the peace treaty was concluded?”
“We could hardly sit on our hands indefinitely while traitors lurked right beneath our noses, could we? His Majesty was pleased enough to commend His Highness’s grand achievement.”
Defending the Crown Prince with easy familiarity, Kylias turned his mount with a soft breath.
“Let us move first. I will brief you on the battle lines as we ride.”
Varkas stared at the man in silence, reins gathered tight in his fist, before signaling his waiting men to advance.
Before long, the reorganized Eastern host set out, keeping a measured distance behind the Roem Knights.
Kylias pulled his horse up beside Varkas at the front and continued in an even, dispassionate cadence.
“Fifteen days ago, the Crown Prince infiltrated agents into the keep before launching an all-out assault. The gambit worked; the stronghold fell before dawn. His Highness hung Duke Heimdal’s head from the ramparts at once, ensuring the whole world knew the wages of treason.”
“And what became of Bjorn Blodar Heimdal?”
Varkas, who had listened without a word, pressed the question. Kylias’s triumphant composure fractured slightly.
“He was not inside the walls. When or how he slipped out remains unclear… but word is that most of the core leadership, Bjorn among them, vanished immediately after the keep was encircled. The siege was merely bought time for their schemes elsewhere.”
Varkas let out a hollow laugh.
“So he abandoned his own father and the largest city in the North?”
“He is the one who dragged the realm into this senseless war to begin with. It was folly to expect sanity from him.”
Kylias exhaled heavily, continuing in a steady voice.
“In any case, we tracked Bjorn’s trail relentlessly from the moment the keep fell. The instant word came that he and his followers had fled east, we reported it to His Majesty. His Majesty ordered the garrisons on the Northern-Eastern border to strike at once, while commanding us to reinforce them.”
Varkas clenched the reins until the veins across the back of his hand stood taut. Daren’s telegram must have been dispatched the instant the imperial decree was handed down.
‘…The chance to bury this quietly is gone.’
Any attempt to cover up their crimes now would brand him a traitor alongside them. With the Emperor having openly deployed imperial troops, armed collision was inevitable.
“The clash on the border has likely begun already. We must ride hard.”
Having finished his briefing, the knight drove his spurs into his mount and surged ahead. Varkas quickened his pace in grim silence.
After hours of relentless riding, as the horizon caught the crimson hue of dusk, a city ringed by formidable sand-colored stone rose before them.
Smoke billowed from the ramparts where the assault had already begun, and thousands of troops were arrayed across the plain. Varkas barked orders for his knights to assume combat formation.
A horn sounded its piercing call, and the knights drew steel, thundering across the open ground and into the fray.
Holding back just enough to read the field, Varkas took in the encampments and lines of battle.
Spearmen flying the Shearkan standard were arrayed to the north and east of the city, while imperial infantry drove massive battering rams toward the shattered gates.
His brow furrowed at the sheer speed of the assault, but his attention snapped to an outlying command post where Daren was shouting orders to his men.
“Your Grace!”
Daren shouted over the din, raw relief breaking across his features.
Varkas cut through any pleasantries, demanding the status of the siege.
“I received the briefing from the Imperial reinforcements. What is our standing?”
“As you can see, the assault on the outer city proceeds without incident. However…”
Daren rubbed a weary hand over his face, as though bearing an intolerable weight, his voice sinking low.
“The web of complicity runs deep. When this dust settles, a massive purge will be unavoidable.”
Varkas’s face hardened as he looked toward the battered breaches in the walls.
The proud city he had toured shortly after inheriting the title of Grand Duke was now drowning in screams and fire.
He held the bitter scene in his gaze for a long moment, then drew his sword and spurred his horse straight toward the vanguard.
Soldiers surged through the shattered gates like an incoming tide.
Within the streets, pulverized by catapult fire, the relentless clatter of steel against steel rang out without pause.
Plunging into the melee, Varkas cut down the defenders in his path with a single sweeping arc, carving an open lane for the cavalry behind him.
Armored barded chargers crashed into the breach in tight formation.
Defenders attempting to stem the tide were cast aside and crushed beneath the great iron-shod hooves. The riders surged over them, striking without mercy.
Watching the carnage with cold detachment, Varkas led his horsemen across the central square toward the citadel looming over the city’s heart.
The streets were eerily vacant; the townsfolk had evidently taken refuge behind the inner citadel’s gates.
He swept his gaze past the quiet facades and the square, oddly silent amid the distant din of battle, fixing upon the barred portcullis and the massive walls beyond the moat.
Archers stood atop the towers, nocked arrows aimed toward the approach. Varkas raised a hand, halting the soldiers poised to rush the inner gates.
“Hold. Do not advance blindly. With the city in our hands, taking the citadel is only a matter of time.”
Measuring the distance carefully outside the archers’ range, Varkas wheeled his mount and issued his orders.
“Set an airtight cordon around the citadel. Do not let so much as a rat slip through. They will raise the white flag within a month at the latest.”
Tarlin surrendered in less than three weeks. The citadel guards revolted, hanging the severed head of their lord—the primary ringleader—over the ramparts. The gates opened without another drop of blood spilled.
“The new lord was an upstart who had barely held the title a few years. None of us dreamed he had betrayed Your Grace and His Majesty the Emperor to funnel war supplies to the North.”
The captain of the guard, having orchestrated the mutiny, fell to his knees pleading for mercy.
Leading his knights into the courtyard, Varkas looked down at the kneeling man with cold, unyielding eyes.
“If what you say is true, I shall appeal to His Majesty for clemency. But if a single word is false, the law will take your life alongside his.”
The captain pressed his forehead to the stones, his face gray.
Varkas commanded the guards behind him to round up all remaining collaborators, then strode across the courtyard.
END