Chapter 538 - The World Had More Idiots Than He Thought

While Varnas had struggled to beat Ragna half to death, Corwin had fled for his life.

"Wow. You really are..."

The barbarian's voice came from far behind him, but he ignored it and ran. He never looked back once. He felt as though turning his head even now would bring that gray-haired monster chasing after him with an axe.

He was like an ostrich burying its head in the ground when threatened, or a pheasant hiding its head in the brush. Looking would not make Rem pursue him, and not looking would not keep Rem from pursuing him, either.

The difference between Corwin and an ostrich or a pheasant, however, was that he had legs that attained strongleg through Will. Of course, ostriches had their distinctive hearing, so burying their heads was not simply stupidity, and pheasants were said to use their keen sight by hiding their disproportionately large heads while leaving their eyes exposed. Still, from the outside, it looked stupid. Just like Corwin fleeing now.

Corwin squeezed out every ounce of strength and ran like mad. At one point, he was drooling without even realizing it. He activated strongleg and squandered his Will, drawing on all of it without caring whether he reached his limit. He had no time even to break into a cold sweat. His balls shriveled, and he felt ready to piss himself.

It happened as he ran. Corwin was lucky. What were the odds of meeting an ally while fleeing, and one in precisely the same predicament at that?

Well, this was closer to inevitability than coincidence. Corwin had instinctively retraced the route he had taken, while Varnas's adjutant had sought protection from another knight. And there was one location where two knights had gone together.

'If I go to the Frog general, I'm dead.'

The general was not someone who would forgive him for returning after abandoning his men. That left only one choice. Making his way out of the Penn-Hanil Mountains alone had never been an option. So their encounter could not be dismissed as mere coincidence.

'All of this is to prepare for the future.'

The commander lied to himself. He needed something to lean on psychologically. That was how he justified what he had done, more or less settling on that as his reason for abandoning every last man in his unit.

'I have to report how strong the enemy is.'

So this was not flight, but a strategic retreat to enable another advance. Of course, it was nothing of the sort.

A little thought would have made that clear. Varnas had been Aspen's last remaining hope. Could a nation survive a war with another country if it could not maintain its complement of knights? No. And Aspen had staked its very survival on this battle.

Of course, if Varnas alone had died, that would be another matter, but it did not change the fact that Aspen's most trusted knight had lost. The first conclusion to draw was that the other battlefields were likely faring poorly as well.

If his own life had not been at stake. If he had not been about to die. If he had not watched the knight he trusted most die before his eyes. Then perhaps the commander could have faced the situation with a cool head.

Would he still have decided to flee if he had been calm? There was no knowing. What had not happened would remain something that would never happen. Had his heart turned in another direction at that moment, he might have charged while crying out for his homeland, too. But this was the choice he had made. Time, once gone, did not return. Only reality remained now.

That was when the commander spotted Corwin.

"Sir Corwin."

It was strange enough that Corwin was here at all, but his expression alone made it clear that something had gone wrong.

"Why are you here?" the commander asked.

Corwin seemed to be in a panic, but he was still a knight. Firm, unbroken willpower still existed within him. Granted, since he had reached knighthood by an unusual route, his Will was not particularly impressive. He had effectively awakened it through the Insight he had been born with. But how could there have been no effort along the way?

Corwin simply treasured everything he had built. His arrogance, his hollow reputation, and everything else mattered to him. And so he could not die.

"Where is Sir Varnas?"

Corwin answered with a question. The commander bit his lip, wearing an expression that suggested even speaking the words was painful.

"He fell in battle."

Corwin blinked twice. Who had died?

To Corwin, Varnas was another monster. He knew, having received instruction from him. The waves Varnas shaped from Will could not simply be blocked by trying. An opponent encountering them for the first time, in particular, should not have been able to block them at all.

"Fell in battle?"

Corwin repeated the words in disbelief. He was in no state to conceal his feelings. Every emotion showed plainly on his face.

"Yes."

The commander ground his teeth as he spoke. He looked deeply aggrieved. Or perhaps he looked as though he was practicing that expression.

To Corwin, all of this felt like a play. What utter nonsense was this?

"Why are you alone?"

"We were beaten."

Ordinarily, Corwin would have found some way to defend himself, but he was not in his right mind. Deceiving his enemy and fleeing had also damaged the Will he had built as a knight. In short, he was impaired in both mind and body. It was little different from having drunk far beyond his limit.

"Beaten? What do you mean?"

"There's a monster on their side," Corwin replied, his eyes vacant.

"So you ran away?"

One fugitive recognized another. Still staring blankly, Corwin nodded. Run away? Yes, he had run away.

"Damn you! And you still call yourself a knight? What did you learn from Sir Varnas?"

Ordinarily, the commander would never have wagged his tongue at a knight like this, either. He, too, had come this far in a state of panic. Moreover, he instinctively knew his own failings, so he needed someone to blame. And that someone was both a knight and a fugitive. His own strategic retreat was nothing in comparison, was it? Someone had appeared who could shoulder all the blame.

"You had better have a good explanation for returning alive alone. You will bear responsibility for the defeat as well, sir."

Had the commander been even a little calmer, he would not have said such things in this situation. At the very least, he should have waited until they returned, until a court-martial was convened. Why? Because although both were fugitives, one held such an overwhelming advantage that he could reduce their number from two to one.

Focus returned to Corwin's hazy gaze. Was returning like this really the right thing to do? Was he supposed to live branded a fugitive?

There was no need even to make his eyes gleam with killing intent.

"For now, return to the main army—urk."

Corwin raised his sword and thrust lightly forward. Fleeing had taken a toll on his body and mind, but his sword still moved well. So long as his opponent was not a knight, yes, his sword was still formidable.

"Why?"

As he asked why, the commander realized just how foolish and stupid he had been. But realizing it changed nothing.

SHUNK. SHUNK.

When Corwin stabbed him twice more, the man tried to seize the blade with his hands. That, too, was useless. After putting three holes in his body and making certain the man who knew he had fled was dead, Corwin spoke.

"We can't call it a defeat yet."

No. Even if they lost, they could not lose like this. He was responsible for the defeat? Nonsense.

Corwin's feet, which had carried him in instinctive flight, now moved with a clear purpose. He pictured a map of the Penn-Hanil Mountains as he went. He was heading for the main army. Not the rear, but the place where the two armies faced each other.

He cut straight down through the mountains. A bear demonic beast and other creatures cost him time along the way, but whether by good luck or bad, he managed to find his way down. When he entered the main army's camp, drenched as though he had bathed in the black blood of monsters and demonic beasts, two sentries leveled their spears at him.

"What the hell? Where did you come from?"

"Who the fuck is this?"

Corwin let out a breath to steady himself, then spoke.

"I am Corwin Ekkins of the Ruling Prince's Knight Order. Take me to the commander's tent at once."

"... Huh?"

Corwin's hand twitched at the soldier's witless response. He wanted to take the man's head off, but held himself back.

"Must I show you proof?"

Corwin raised his sword. A knight's sword was his symbol. He showed them his imprinted weapon and even held out the gauntlet bearing his knight order's crest. The soldier took the steel gauntlet and roughly rubbed it in the dirt to remove the black blood, revealing the crest.

"Oh!"

"This way, sir."

With their duelists having suffered crushing defeats before the full battle had even begun, the soldiers' morale had hit rock bottom. Those uneasily watching the situation turned their eyes to Corwin, though not many did. Everyone was concentrating on the front, worried that the enemy might seize this opportunity to attack. Thanks to that, Corwin entered the command tent more quietly than expected.

The general, who had been holding his position under Abnaire's orders, rose at the sight of him.

"Sir Corwin?"

They knew each other by sight. Corwin's gaze went to the general and the two adjutants beside him. Abnaire and the general had once discussed those two. Hadn't they said that one was not bright but steadfast, while the other was clever but far too concerned with his own interests?

'Another word for that is ambitious.'

The tent was fairly spacious, but aside from Corwin, only three people were inside. With no immediate battle to fight, there was no need for a strategy meeting, and they had only lost the duels. They had been passing the time, waiting for news of their allies' victory.

"What in the world...?"

The commander could not finish at the sight of Corwin. Had they lost? Had they been defeated in the battle on the flanking route? More precisely, the flood of thoughts had left him speechless. While he remained at a loss for words, Corwin looked at the ambitious one, the man with narrow eyes, and spoke.

"From this moment..."

SWISH. SWISH.

Without finishing his sentence, Corwin swung his sword. Lines of blood appeared across the necks of the general and the steadfast adjutant, stained dark red by the black blood on his blade. The heads resting above those lines slid free and dropped.

"You are the supreme commander."

"Ah."

The adjutant's lips trembled with fear. Ambition aside, he was no great man. He was clever, but small in stature.

"Will you obey my orders?"

If he did not, he would die. The situation was clear without his having to read anyone's mood. Small a man as the adjutant was, he was clever enough to understand immediately.

"Yes. Understood."

"Good. Send the entire army forward now."

The adjutant swallowed hard.

"Do not stop until we win. We will take the enemy city."

Normally, someone making such a declaration ought to say he would lead the charge, but Corwin had no intention of doing so. Instead, he told the adjutant what he needed to hear now.

"I will be watching from behind."

Disobey, and he would die. A knight on his own side was holding a sword to his back. The adjutant knew that even if he issued the order, it would not be carried out as given. What would happen then? That dark-red blade would plunge straight through his chest.

'What do I do?'

After some thought, he found an answer. Beside the dead general lay a letter from Abnaire. This battlefield had been operating in strict accordance with orders from above all along. But what if there were orders carrying greater authority than Abnaire's?

"Please give me a dagger. Something symbolic that will prove these are your orders, sir..."

"Take it."

Corwin handed over the dagger with a jewel-set hilt that one received upon joining the knight order. This would be enough.

The adjutant went outside and assembled the commanders. Citing urgency, he gathered them outdoors rather than in the tent. Two corpses would greet them in the command tent, so meeting there was out of the question.

"An urgent message came from the main army, and the general has returned there. We advance before sunset."

Several commanders had at least some backbone and brains, and they tilted their heads in puzzlement.

"Where?"

"Over there?"

"Wouldn't attacking as we are put us at a disadvantage?"

"You want a chaotic melee?"

The adjutant lacked the charisma to command their attention. But he had the blade the knight had given him.

"These are the orders of Sir Corwin of the Ruling Prince's Knight Order. The knight order has won. We will take the enemy city."

It was already too late to turn back. Crushing bread would not turn it back into wheat.

'I don't know anymore, either.'

If they advanced like this, men would die in droves on both sides. They would kill and be killed. Could they break through that way?

'I doubt it.'

One look at the men who had fought the duels and the enemy army drawn up in ranks was enough to tell him that.

"The knight order won? Are you saying there was another battle on the flanking route?"

"I don't know. That's all I was told."

It was a lie. Elaborating would only expose holes.

"Then is our knight order striking the enemy from behind?"

"I thought some of our troops were missing."

A quick-witted commander accepted the explanation. Another accepted the authority of the knight's blade. And so Aspen finished preparing to advance.

While this was unfolding, Corwin found a nearby lake, gave himself a rough wash, and considered his next move.

'I'll use the full-scale battle as bait.'

This was no time to worry about the people who would die.

'In return, I'll bring back the lord's head.'

Even now, his deranged mind sought someone weaker rather than another knight. His target was Graham, lord of Border Guard. There was not a shred of rational judgment in it.

And so Aspen began to move. Watching it, Krais could only stare in disbelief.

"Why are they doing that?"

Their morale had been broken, and the outcome of the battles on the flanking routes was not yet known. Yet they were launching a full-scale battle here? Without so much as a strategic maneuver to accompany it?

The enemy had not even sent a detached force around to disrupt their formation. Of course, sending part of their cavalry would have changed nothing. Border Guard's defenses were already fully prepared. That made this move all the more incomprehensible.

"We will have to fight, brother."

The enemy's momentum alone was enough to tell whether they meant it. Audin spoke, but Krais knew it, too.

The enemy army surged up to the line he had drawn in his mind, the line they must not cross, and crossed it without hesitation.

"Raaaaah!"

Aspen's assault troops let out savage cries. There was no particular killing intent to them. They looked like nothing more than a meaningless last-ditch struggle. But countless people would have to die to stop that struggle.

Whatever the enemy commander was thinking, this was the worst possible choice. Krais had wondered if it could really be true. Now, seeing this, he was fairly certain. The world had more idiots than he thought.

There could be people who did things that made no sense whatsoever to him. No, there were. More than he had thought.

'What if some bastard at the top decides on something insane, and they just go ahead and carry it out?'

Then even this was possible: charging into a battle that would have neither winners nor losers.

"Crazy bastards."

Krais saw the whirlwind of war about to sweep over them. There would be a slaughter, men killing and being killed. How could he stop it? For now, there was no way. The best they could do was fight back.