Chapter 61 - An Orc Above Orcs vs. A Knight Above Knights (1)
『You have acquired a portion of the verses of Adelia Bayern's Poem of Martial Deeds, [Poem of the Raven].』
A humming that sounded as if she were humming a tune.
I was left completely dumbfounded.
『The day my hunger and thirst are quenched shall never come.』
It was a deep-seated sorrow rather than a wish,
and a despair as much as it was a craving.
It was a form I had rarely seen, even after living for hundreds of years and encountering countless Poems of Martial Deeds.
I looked at Adelia. She, too, happened to be looking at me.
Teary eyes, tightly shut lips, tightly clasped hands—her face wore an expression of someone forced to do something they hated and suffering immensely for it.
If someone who didn't know the situation saw her, I'd have nothing to say if they assumed I had forced an unwilling person onto the battlefield.
Could there be anything more unfair in this world?
She was the one who would roll her eyes back and charge in whenever she smelled blood, yet now she was resenting me. She should at least put down the Troll heart she had just ripped out before making such an expression.
"Huu."
Letting out a sigh, I checked her traits.
□ Adelia Bayern [Female, 17], [Maid]
□ Aptitude. [Swordsmanship-S], [Mana Sensitivity-A]
□ Traits. [Butcher], [War Maniac], [Gluttony], [Timid], [Devoted Care], [Slave Mentality]
The saying 'mountains beyond mountains' must be used for times like this.
I could immediately tell what the newly formed [Gluttony] trait was craving. And I also knew that her gluttony would never be satisfied.
Because the [Poem of the Raven] she wove was a song about an unquenchable craving.
The [War Maniac] and [Butcher] traits were already a headache on their own, yet another trait had blatantly been added. And it was a trait just as bloody as the other two.
I forcefully shook those thoughts from my head.
Still, the situation wasn't entirely bad.
Even though I had only heard a few verses, I could at least tell that the [Poem of the Raven] was a poem that had surpassed the Ordinary Grade and reached the Extraordinary Grade. That was a relief.
It meant wandering through the rugged mountains on these cold winter days had been worth it. If not for this, I really would have wanted to cry.
With this, I gained one more card to use in the battle against the Warlord, so it was fortunate. I repeated this to myself several times.
For a few days after that, we thoroughly scoured the surroundings and took care of ogres and Trolls.
The Rangers took care of gathering the valuable parts, such as ogre hides and Troll tusks. And we wandered for a few more days.
Ogres and Trolls were nowhere to be seen anymore.
To continue the hunt, we had to go deeper.
After briefly gazing deeper into the mountain range, I turned around.
"Let's head back."
The Rangers' expressions brightened at my words.
Since quite a bit of time had passed, they seemed to be slowly getting worried about Winter Castle. It must have also been agonizing for them to watch a lunatic covered in blood running wild.
The journey back was extremely smooth.
It was thanks to Adelia, who had practically bathed in the blood of ogres and Trolls every time. The pungent stench of a predator wafted thickly from her body, and the monsters didn't show so much as a hair even as we crossed right through their settlements.
We climbed mountain after mountain. And finally, we reached a hill overlooking Winter Castle.
"Ah..."
We saw countless Orcs surrounding the castle. We saw the Rangers desperately firing arrows from the top of the wall. The blue light radiating from the knights stationed everywhere was illuminating the entire night.
Winter Castle was in the midst of a fierce battle.
"What should we do?"
Erhim Kilinger asked.
I quietly estimated the number of Orcs surrounding the castle.
There were far more dead Orcs collapsed on the ground than living ones. The number of Orcs still moving alive was roughly around 300.
"We'll break through."
Once we reach a spot visible from the castle, the knights of Winter Castle will figure it out and open the gates to charge out.
Since they had completely gotten a taste for opening the gates and charging out lately.
"I'll take the lead. The Rangers in the middle. Sir Erhim, Dunham, and Arwen will cover the flanks and the rear."
At my words, the group prepared for battle.
The knights drew their swords, and the Rangers nocked arrows to their bowstrings. They left the knots on their short swords loose so they could draw them at any time.
"Couldn't we just wait and go later?"
The mercenaries of the Silver Fox Mercenaries said with a tearful expression.
"If there are any surviving Orcs, they'll pass through here."
At my words, the mercenaries reluctantly pulled out their swords and spears. For Senior Mercenaries, they didn't have a speck of spirit to be found.
Tsk.
I clicked my tongue once and looked ahead.
I saw a single Orc commanding the troops from the rear. Wearing a beast's mask and holding a bone staff in its hand, it was an Orc shaman.
Completely unaware that we were behind it, the bastard was only glaring at the castle wall.
What a stroke of luck.
I raised my sword and pointed at the bastard.
The knights nodded. The Rangers confirmed the target and their eyes gleamed. The mercenaries were still groaning.
"Let's go."
* * *
Plunging his sword into the crown of an Orc that had cautiously poked its head over the wall, Vincent shouted.
"There's not much left! Hold on! Once today is over, we can rest comfortably for four days!"
Against the Orcs that came every four days, the Rangers screamed as they fired their arrows.
Vincent quietly watched the sight.
Not many Orcs managed to climb the wall, and even the ones that did had their heads sent flying by the knights' swords as soon as they came up. Occasionally, the Orc shaman would try some tricks, but its impact on the tide of battle was minimal.
Thanks to the knights from The Capital moving busily, the Rangers suffered practically zero casualties.
At this rate, they would be able to completely drive out the Orcs without much damage before dawn.
It couldn't have been any smoother than this.
"Hmm."
Vincent unconsciously looked toward the castle gate. In front of the tightly shut gate, a swarming horde of Orcs was gathered, slamming their axes down on it.
If His Highness the First Prince were here, he would have opened the gate by now and charged out to run wild.
Vincent suddenly shuddered.
'Get a grip. War isn’t some clumsy game of knights.'
Rebuking himself, he raised his voice again to encourage the Rangers.
Even so, he couldn't help but look back at the gate several times.
"Damn it."
Driven by an inexplicable thirst, he swung his sword fiercely.
"Kuek!"
An Orc with a sword shoved into its mouth fell down the wall.
Countless Orcs fell from the wall and turned into bloody pulps. Nevertheless, there was an endless supply of Orcs trying to climb the wall.
They were normally persistent bastards, but today was exceptionally worse.
"Fuck."
Vincent spat out a curse.
The shaman was pushing the Orcs forward when their momentum should have reasonably subsided by now. It was sickening to see the Orcs crawling up the wall despite clearly knowing they would die.
"Damn shaman bastard."
Just because the battle was going smoothly didn't mean there was no battle fatigue, so he glared at the Orcs' military banner visible in the distance.
"Hmm?"
The Orcs behind where the military banner stood suddenly began to fuss. After a flash of light, the banner that had been standing perfectly fine collapsed.
And simultaneously, the Orcs that had been tenaciously climbing the wall began to falter.
It was as if they had been intoxicated on drugs and were only just now coming to their senses.
"It's His Highness the Prince!"
One of the Rangers with good eyesight shouted. The Rangers, who had been constantly firing arrows from the wall, all looked at one spot simultaneously.
Over there stood a boy who had hoisted the fallen military banner high up once again.
"His Highness the Prince has returned!"
"His Highness took down the boss!"
The Rangers cheered.
And at that moment, the air in Winter Castle heated up fiercely.
"These crazy bastards, really."
Vincent twisted his lips in a pout.
The wall was full of prominent knights and commanders. How many biting winds and cold snaps had they driven away over the years?
Dozens of times at most, or seven to eight times at the least.
And the First Prince had yet to spend even a single winter here.
Nevertheless, the Rangers on the wall were thoroughly excited, as if their runaway captain had finally returned home.
It was absurd.
Putting aside the number of winters they had endured, how long had the First Prince even been outside for them to make such a fuss?
"Anyone looking would think His Highness was their captain."
Vincent grumbled with a displeased expression.
"Gather at the gate!"
"Only the first thirty to arrive are going out!"
Just then, someone shouted.
At the same time, the knights on the wall started scrambling down the wall in a mad dash. Vincent was one of them.
A faint song could be heard carried on the fierce wind.
The Rangers began to sing the military cadence of Winter Castle, and the knights murmured the song known as the War Poem.
The gate opened.
The Orcs roared and surged inward. However, the Orcs were bounced back out of the gate just as quickly as they had surged in.
The knights, having drawn out their Sword Aura to the max, poured out of the gate.
"You bastards! The order hasn't even been given y—... Charge!"
A step late, the eldest son of the lord of Winter Castle issued the order to charge.
"Hmm."
Maximilian quietly watched the scene.
From the moment his older brother appeared on the battlefield, the morale of Winter Castle began to skyrocket.
The Rangers, who had grown somewhat sluggish, fired their arrows in excitement as if they had only just joined the battle, and the Sword Aura ignited by the knights grew even thicker.
Even the veteran commanders of Winter Castle, who had fought a hundred battles, had flushed, flushed faces.
The arrows fired by the Rangers became a rainstorm that swept away the Orcs. And the knights dashed through the path swept clear by the rainstorm.
Flashes of swords burst out from everywhere, and magnificent roars erupted one after another.
The Orcs were pushed this way and that by that furious wave.
It wasn't a battle; it was a massacre.
It looked like a scene where the victor was wiping out the remnants after the fight had already ended.
Unable to hold out any longer, the Orcs pushed back by the knights began to flee. The Orcs, who had stubbornly clung on no matter how many of their kin died, were now running away in terror.
It was a truly magical sight.
And to think that the one who created that magic was a young prince who was merely sixteen. Maximilian couldn't help but marvel at it again and again.
BWOOOOO.
The sound of a horn echoed out.
It was the trumpet call of victory.
"We won!"
The soldiers of Winter Castle cheered.
They called out the name of the main contributor to their victory at the top of their lungs.
Among them were the names of the knights who had run around atop the wall all night, and the name of the Commander who had firmly supported the soldiers like a rock.
But among all those, the loudest cheers were directed at the First Prince.
"Long live His Highness the First Prince!"
"All respect to His Highness the First Prince!"
Maximilian glanced around for a moment before cheering along with them.
"Long live the First Prince!"
One of the Iron Lions beside him widened his eyes in surprise upon seeing that.
And amidst everyone's cheers, the First Prince passed through the gate. The First Prince's stride was majestic as he proudly hoisted the red military banner. And at that moment, a roar erupted from deep within the mountain range.
The cheers stopped. Everyone looked toward the other side of the mountains. All they could see was the snow-covered mountain range.
However, everyone in Winter Castle could feel the massive presence of something moving deep inside the mountain range.
The Warlord was making his move.
