Chapter 62 - An Orc Above Orcs vs. A Knight Above Knights (2)

The joy of victory and the gladness of the First Prince's eventual return completely vanished in the face of the Warlord's presence.

The mouths of those looking at the mountain range were tightly shut.

The bitterly subdued atmosphere was no different from that of defeated soldiers.

Maximilian felt like he was suffocating. He had to do something for the soldiers who were suppressed like defeated troops. But his lips would not easily part.

The terrible roar still vividly remaining in his mind had rendered him mute.

He simply stomped his feet while biting his lip.

At that moment, an arrogant voice could be heard.

"Take it out."

In the silence of the castle, the voice rang out exceptionally clear; turning his head, he saw the First Prince standing there, still bearing the vivid marks of a grueling mountain trek and battle.

At the First Prince's command, the Rangers spread out something they had been carrying on their backs.

It was a yellowish-red pelt belonging to something massive, resembling human skin but looking far tougher and coarser.

THUD.

As the pelt was laid out on the ground, a large severed head wrapped inside it revealed itself.

"Gasp!"

The sound of people sharply inhaling could be heard from everywhere.

The vicious monster's head looked as if it would come alive and roar at any moment.

"Fourteen ogres, eleven Trolls."

The First Prince said.

"If I only had more time, I would have wiped out their entire seed."

Words so arrogant they felt like pure bravado.

"But why is there only one head?"

The eldest son of the lord of Winter Castle asked the First Prince.

"Why would I bring back everything when it's useless? One souvenir is enough. What? Are you saying you don't believe me?"

"No, it's not exactly that I don't believe you, but there's roughly enough pelt for four of them. The numbers don't seem to add up."

At Vincent's words, the First Prince crossed his arms and bluffed.

"They were utterly butchered. So none of them were left intact."

As if he had just remembered, the First Prince held out his hand. A Ranger handed him a red cloth as if he had been waiting.

"One military banner from the elite Orc combat unit we hunted in the mountains, plus one legion banner from the Shaman we just killed."

The Rangers, who had been watching him swagger like a child unable to let go of his childishness, suddenly chimed in.

"Then what does the score look like now?"

"Let's see. You said a legion banner counts for ten. His Highness has two legion banners. Nineteen military banners from the combat units. So that's thirty-nine."

"The Captain has one legion banner and twenty-eight combat unit banners..."

"I have thirty-nine, and Vincent has thirty-eight."

The Prince stretched out his hand.

"Vincent Ballorhard."

He stuck out his thumb and then quickly spun it halfway so that the thumb pointed downward.

"I won."

At that arrogant display, the eldest son of the lord of Winter Castle dramatically crumpled his face, and the Rangers and knights let out a roaring cheer.

"His Highness has surpassed the Captain!"

"The Captain lost!"

At those words, the eldest son of the lord of Winter Castle yelled indignantly.

"Didn't you just pick up the banners from the rear after we finished everything?! I can't accept this!"

At that, the Rangers and knights showered him with boos.

"Booo! Captain! This is pathetic! Admit your defeat!"

"The ogres and Trolls His Highness killed are enough to prove the Captain lost! Let's admit what needs to be admitted!"

"Whose side are you bastards on right now?! Who is your Captain?!"

The eldest son of the lord of Winter Castle, abandoned by his subordinates, let out an angry shout, but no one responded to him.

"Then is His Highness the greatest warrior of our Winter Castle now?"

"Ahem."

Just then, someone let out a fake cough.

People turned their heads at the strangely attention-grabbing sound of the cough. It was the lord of Winter Castle who had been silently watching, Count Vale Ballorhard.

"Was it fifty-nine?"

A brief remark tossed out in passing, as if his memory was hazy.

"You still have a long way to go."

The people belatedly understood the Commander's words. And they remembered a fact they had forgotten.

They were once again reminded of the existence of the knight of knights, who had fought the Orcs here for the longest time and slaughtered the most Orcs.

"Aren't you embarrassed, old man, cutting in while the youth are playing? You've already half-stepped back from the front lines."

The First Prince, whose momentum had been sapped after boasting so loudly, let out a grumbling complaint.

"Records don't disappear, you see."

The Commander said to the First Prince. The generous smile of a victor was a bonus.

Maximilian, who had been dumbfounded by the fact that the highly renowned Commander had joined in on a childish flag competition, suddenly realized something.

The atmosphere of Winter Castle, which had been as sunken as a fortress on the verge of falling, had somehow returned to its usual state.

Maximilian's gaze turned toward the Commander.

He saw the Commander and his eldest son exchanging glances with each other.

"Ah..."

Only then did Maximilian understand why they had deliberately put on such a silly act in front of the soldiers.

It must have been to refresh the soldiers' attention, even if it meant throwing away their own dignity. In truth, the number of banners had never mattered from the beginning. "Anyway, uncle, you stay out of this. I'm the best."

Of course, there was a certain boy among them who stubbornly flaunted his flag count to the very end.

Regardless, it was a fact that the unknown tension and anxiety hovering over the castle had been completely swept away.

"The wounded are to return to the barracks for treatment, and those who are fine are to clear the battlefield!"

As the atmosphere returned to normal, the Commander immediately issued orders.

"Stop playing around and retrieve the arrows first! Even if you skip the shafts, make absolutely sure to collect the arrowheads!"

"Any bastard who fails to retrieve as many arrows as they shot will be running laps all night long!"

The commanding officers spat out rough curses and kicked the Rangers' asses.

"What's the point of having the infantry around."

"Stop it. If we make them do it, the arrows will become completely unusable. You know we'll have to cut them out with a knife later if the head separates from the shaft, right?"

The soldiers grumbled but headed out the castle gates.

Maximilian watched the scene and marveled inwardly several times over.

So this was the resourcefulness of field commanders. This was the method of those who had spent their entire lives alongside soldiers.

He was quite deeply impressed by how a few silly jokes, rather than a grandiose speech, had transformed the atmosphere.

And among all that, what left the deepest impression on Maximilian was the sight of a certain prince who, despite having lived his entire life in a luxurious royal palace, acted exactly like an old veteran who had weathered countless field battles.

"Your Highness."

Erhim Kilinger, who had gone on the mountain expedition with his brother, approached and bowed his head.

"Let's go to my room."

It seemed there would be a truly great deal to hear from him.

* * *

A monster born with an Extraordinary Grade retained a faint trace of that status even after death. That was why I deliberately showed the soldiers the ogre's head, as if showing off a trophy.

So that the soldiers could gain courage upon seeing the extraordinary monster reduced to a mere prize.

It was half a success and half a failure.

"Hmm."

The gloomy air, like that of a castle on the verge of collapse, had been blown away, but that didn't mean they had completely shaken off the Warlord's presence.

The Rangers, knights, and commanders were avoiding any mention of the Warlord as if by prior agreement. It was as though they feared something terrible would happen the moment the words left their mouths.

"Tsk."

I clicked my tongue.

Even the Rangers and knights of Winter Castle, who could be considered veterans of a hundred battles, were like this, so I didn't even need to look to know how the soldiers from The Capital were faring.

There might be a difference in degree, but they were probably exactly like those guys.

Two men caught my eye. They were the mercenaries assigned to me by the leader of the Silver Foxes. A long time had passed since the Warlord's roar was heard, yet the pants of the mercenaries, who were slumped on the ground without even thinking of getting up, were damply soaked.

The stench of urine pierced my nose.

It was a pathetic sight, but it wasn't completely incomprehensible.

The roar from earlier was not just any roar. It was a roar that a monster, who had transcended the Orc species, let out with all its spirit and presence.

It was a kind of declaration of war.

The spirit and presence carried within it were ruthless enough to crush one's soul. It was a malice that would be hard to endure even for those who had weathered fairly harsh environments.

The same went for the mercenaries who had wandered from one rugged battlefield to another.

But the reason their state looked pathetic nonetheless was probably because of the people of Winter Castle, who were chatting and doing their jobs as usual, even if it was a sight deliberately constructed with forced effort.

But I knew.

I knew full well that the mercenaries were not weak; rather, the people of Winter Castle were strong.

But those strong men alone could not win the coming battle. I needed more people.

"Why aren't there any more reinforcement troops in sight?"

I thought the lords down below would have sent reinforcements by now, but the castle's forces hadn't increased at all compared to before I left.

I had requested reinforcements immediately after sensing the Warlord's presence. There was more than enough time to prepare for war.

In fact, the forces from The Capital had already arrived here.

And yet, there was still not a single hair to be seen of the forces from the territories adjacent to the Ballorhard domain.

It was by no means normal.

"The reinforcement troops that had fallen behind joined us not long ago. We were able to hear news of the lords through them."

Vincent cut in. His voice contained deep anger.

"According to the knight who commanded the stragglers, the lords of the central and northern regions genuinely seemed to have no intention of dispatching troops."

I was angry as well.

"Do they not realize that if this place falls, they are next?"

"Ian. Calm down."

My uncle gently reasoned with me.

"Because this place will never fall."

I narrowed my eyes at my uncle's weirdly relaxed tone. The gaze my uncle fixed on me was strangely deep.

"Don't tell me?"

I asked, just in case.

"Not yet. But it is almost at the tips of my fingers."

My uncle beamed at me.

I was genuinely in awe.

It felt like just yesterday when he had acted as if he would become a cripple by falling into his Inner Demon, but my uncle had not only overcome the Inner Demon—he was advancing to the next stage. "It would have been nice if we had a little more time, but time is cruel."

Even as he said that, my uncle didn't truly seem to find it a pity. No, it even felt as if he was eagerly waiting for the Warlord to come. "Do not worry. The knight Vale has never lost a battle against the Orcs."

Absolute confidence was laced in my uncle's words.

It was a confidence befitting a knight standing on the threshold of the Penta realm, rather than just four rings, Quad.

* * *

The Orcs, who used to attack the castle once every four days, no longer appeared, and the forces of Winter Castle took their rest, making full preparations for the approaching great battle.

I called Maximilian and demanded he send a request for reinforcements under the name of the Second Prince.

"Even if my name or my uncle's name doesn't work, yours will surely get through to them."

I didn't think the lords would ignore the weight of the Second Prince's name as well. Maximilian also didn't say much, but perhaps considering the political situation, he drafted the reinforcement request letter with a rather strong tone.

We used the most agile among the Rangers as messengers and sent those letters to the neighboring lords.

"Will they really come?"

"They will come, sure. The problem is whether they arrive on time."

Maximilian seemed somewhat anxious as well, as if he had felt the tension lingering in the castle.

"Maximilian."

I said to my younger brother.

"If things go wrong, form a defensive line below the castle again."

"B-Brother!"

"We are short on troops. But no matter what happens, the men of Winter Castle will never abandon this fortress."

They would rather fight to the death and perish alongside the castle; my uncle and the people of Winter Castle would never retreat from this place.

But for the battle against the Warlord, we had to keep even the worst-case scenario in mind.

Maximilian said to me.

He asked if it wasn't true that I wasn't a person of Winter Castle either, and that if such a thing happened, it would be better for me to command the soldiers instead of him.

He looked as though he cared nothing for the future war of succession and power struggles that would unfold.

I simply smiled at him instead of answering.

The Leonberk bloodline was ruinously broken, but it was a relief that there was still at least one person left with that blood flowing strongly through his veins. While the Rangers went down south carrying the letters, the knightly order called the Black Lancers, the pride of House Ballorhard, arrived at the castle.

"We have returned after completing our mission. We apologize for the delay."

Perhaps the Commander had given them a separate mission; a thick smell of blood emanated from them as they arrived at the castle.

I let out a small gasp of admiration as I looked at them mounted on black horses and clad in black armor.

If the knights of the Iron Lion Knights were like a well-forged sword, the Black Lancers were like ferocious beasts.

The energy they had yet to rein in overflowed in all directions, making them look quite fierce and tough.

Looking just like wolves, they were an order of knights who had come to resemble monsters while fighting against them.

That was what the Black Lancers looked like to me.

"Your Highness the First Prince. It is an honor to meet you like this."

The man who introduced himself as Quern Liechtheim, commander of the Black Lancers, showed me a wolf-like smile.

"Vincent boasted so much about you. He said that a charge alongside Your Highness is an absolute masterpiece."

"Sir Quern!"

"Anyway, I will be looking forward to it."

Seeing him treat me without any prejudice, it seemed that the people around him had spoken well of me before they arrived.

"Yeah. Me too."

My first meeting with the Black Lancers, who had introduced themselves as experts in charging, ended just like that.

Around that time, the Warlord's presence had drawn close enough to seemingly touch the castle.

A week at most, or four days at the shortest.

There was truly very little time left before the Warlord arrived.

I gathered my focus. I prepared for the decisive battle with the Warlord by observing the sleeping fragments of souls and looking within myself.

The reinforcements we waited for were still nowhere to be heard from, but the guest we had so hoped would not come had boldly arrived right before the castle.

The Warlord, the hero of the Orcs, leading a massive army of twenty thousand, had finally reached Winter Castle alongside a raging blizzard.