Chapter 68 - An Orc Above Orcs vs. A Knight Above Knights (8)

Leaving behind the castle they had risked their lives to protect for hundreds of years was by no means an easy task for the men of Ballorhard.

They were not the type to show their backs, preferring to fight to the death instead. Much less was it their way to lose their spiritual pillar and flee like defeated soldiers.

But despite that, they had no choice but to swallow their tears and abandon Winter Castle.

If they were to be any more stubborn here, everything they sought to protect would end up trampled under the feet of the Orcs and turn to nothing.

Forcing their reluctant steps forward, Ballorhard's soldiers and the reinforcements left the castle behind.

The Orcs that had broken through the north gate pursued them closely.

Under these circumstances, they were bound to suffer significant casualties.

At that moment, the Silver Fox Mercenaries stepped forward.

"This way!"

The Silver Fox Mercenaries had already secured an escape route.

As soon as Winter Castle's forces escaped the castle, they set fire to the south gate. Jars of oil, buried at some unknown time, exploded and created a wall of fire.

The Orcs charging beyond the gate roared fiercely from the other side of the flames. Among them were some who couldn't control their tempers and pushed through the fire, but those were all dispatched by the waiting archers of the Silver Fox Mercenaries.

"We won't be able to hold them off for long with that! Hurry up!"

The leader of the Silver Foxes urged the men who were blankly looking back at the castle.

Just as he said, the Orcs quickly pierced through the flames and tailed the retreating forces.

Every time that happened, the measures prepared by the Silver Fox mercenaries shined.

They had set traps at every crossroad in advance, and the Orcs that had followed right behind them repeatedly had to lose the soldiers of Winter Castle right before their eyes.

Of course, the traps were nothing more than crude things prepared in a hurry, and the ambushing forces laid out in advance were too few in number, so they could not stall the Orcs' footsteps for very long.

Even so, thanks to them, Winter Castle's forces were able to realign their ranks.

"How in the world did you prepare all of this?"

When a haggard-looking Vincent Ballorhard asked, Antoine, the leader of the Silver Foxes, glanced at the cart and said.

"His Highness the First Prince instructed this in advance the day before the incident occurred."

At those words, the people looked toward the cart.

Surrounded by twenty swordsmen wearing low-pulled cloaks, the cart held a woman with tear stains plastered on her face and a motionless boy lying still.

It was the First Prince and Adelia Bayern, who had been brought in covered in blood on the day of the decisive battle.

The battle had already ended three days ago, but the First Prince was still unconscious.

The sheer number of large and small wounds sustained in the battle with the Warlord was a problem, and his completely depleted mana was an issue as well.

If they didn't quickly find a place for him to rest and receive treatment, it could lead to irreversible consequences.

Unfortunately, however, their desperate flight had only just begun. The Orcs pursued them with incredible persistence, and the traps the Silver Foxes had prepared in advance were quickly exhausted.

Eventually, from the seventh day of their escape, a portion of the retreating forces had no choice but to turn back and fend off the Orcs.

The one who played the biggest role at that time was Arwen Kirgayen.

She stepped up in place of Winter Castle's command staff, whose morale was broken after losing their lord and having their castle taken, and the Silver Foxes backed her up.

She fought through thick and thin and saved countless people. Masterfully controlling the mercenaries, she exercised appropriate wits at necessary moments and completely repelled the Orcs' pursuit units.

However, despite her and the Silver Foxes' outstanding efforts, their pace was only arduous and slow. Amidst the biting cold, they gradually grew exhausted.

If the Rangers who had headed south first to deliver the news hadn't returned and told them that the nobles of the Central region were massively setting up a defensive line, their morale would have hit rock bottom.

They continued their march. And finally, they were able to arrive at the secondary defensive line where the Central region's forces had gathered.

If they just reached the rear, they could realign their ranks and fight again. Even though their castle was taken, they still had 3,500 troops. If they joined forces with the Central region's military, they could slaughter all the Orcs that had trampled Ballorhard.

That was what they thought.

But that was a delusion.

When they arrived at the defensive line the nobles of the Central region had set up, forty kilometers away from House Shurtl's northern border, they could not help but be genuinely enraged.

"This is supposed to be the gathered forces of five families?"

Vincent said in sheer disbelief.

They had informed them of the severity of the situation and requested support months ago. Even while Winter Castle was falling, they had sent messengers in advance so they could prepare for the monster army.

And yet, upon arriving, they found the Central region was completely unprepared for war.

The wooden fences were shoddy, and the soldiers' armaments were abysmal. The banners symbolizing their families fluttered loudly, but the elite troops that could be called the main forces of those families were nowhere to be seen.

The shabby appearances of the allied soldiers staring at them in terror were no different from those of peasants.

At least the forces gathered under House Shurtl's banner were somewhat decently armed. Though even they seemed woefully insufficient to fight against the fierce Orcs.

"Your Highness!"

As the survivors of Ballorhard nearly reached the wooden fences, the nobles came waddling out from inside.

As soon as they appeared, they checked on Maximilian's safety and thanked God time and time again for his well-being. They also offered words of consolation to the newly appointed Count Ballorhard, Vincent.

Not a single person asked about the First Prince's safety.

"My brother is in critical condition."

Unable to watch any longer, Maximilian spoke of his brother's state and asked for help. Only then did the nobles hastily inquire about the First Prince's condition and put on sympathetic faces.

But none of them were truly concerned about the First Prince's critical state.

Maximilian had definitely seen it.

The disgust that flickered across their faces for a fleeting moment.

It was as if they thought Ballorhard's fall was the fault of the young boy. They clearly suspected that the Scoundrel had done something to cause the perfectly fine Ballorhard to collapse.

Something welled up inside Maximilian.

The one who had promised to return with the head of the enemy leader had, behind the scenes, prepared for failure. The person's feelings must have been no different from someone building their own coffin and digging their own grave.

He must have felt terrified and devastated.

Even amidst that, his brother silently did what he had to do. The escape routes, ambushes, and numerous arrangements he had prepared without anyone knowing. It was because of those arrangements that so many troops survived and safely arrived here.

All of that was the achievement of the First Prince, whom they despised like a plague and found as repulsive as the seed of disaster.

GRAB.

Erhim Kilinger grabbed Maximilian, who was about to step forward in a fit of rage. Seeing the Iron Lion shake his head, Maximilian swallowed his anger.

Now was not the time to be swayed by emotion. The priority was to unite them to overcome this crisis.

But it was not easy.

The troops sent to the defensive line by the five lords numbered around 3,200; it was not a small force numerically, but the problem was the quality. Excluding the 400 or so elite infantry from Shurtl County, every other soldier was a poorly trained conscript.

The only knights were a mere twenty who tagged along as escorts for the lords or their proxies.

The future looked bleak.

His head ached wondering how they could possibly hold back that dreadful army with a rabble that would turn tail and run at the mere sight of an Orc.

"We are currently spending all available funds to recruit mercenaries. Please wait just a little longer."

At least it was a comfort that Count Shurtl was spending a fortune to summon as many mercenaries as possible.

Unlike the nobles of the Central region who still hadn't come to their senses even with things having reached this state, Bert Shurtl was a man with a functioning brain.

He spared no material or moral support to ensure the survivors of Ballorhard could rest.

Unfortunately, time was not on their side.

News came that Orcs had been spotted here and there across the northernmost borders of the Central region. Startled, the lords hastily divided their forces and scattered in all directions.

Maximilian also tried to lead his troops and march out. The nobles, too, requested he set out.

"We have too many wounded to join the battle immediately. We will reorganize as quickly as possible and finish preparing for combat."

However, Erhim Kilinger stepped in first and firmly stated that they could not participate. Maximilian tried to correct him several times, but for some reason, the loyal knight prevented the prince from even opening his mouth.

Vincent Ballorhard also expressed his intent not to participate, stating they needed time to reorganize.

Ultimately, it was decided that the allied forces alone would deal with the Orcs appearing at the Central region's borders.

"They are only trying to use us. Should the soldiers who just survived a death trap really have to die for their sake?"

When the prince demanded answers after the meeting concluded, Erhim Kilinger calmly explained his reasoning.

"Moreover, we absolutely cannot stop the Orcs in this state. Even if they suffer damage, we must make the lords look this crisis straight in the eye."

Maximilian could not refute Erhim's statement that some sacrifices had to be endured to accomplish a greater goal. Even to the young prince's eyes, the Central region's nobles still had not come to their senses.

Of course, he couldn't fully accept it either.

Because the deaths of the innocent could not be justified by any reason.

Nevertheless, the reason Maximilian did not remain stubborn was because he had personally experienced how terrifying and relentless the Orcs were.

If such ferocious beasts were to spread throughout the kingdom, it would be a disaster beyond disasters.

"But Sir Erhim."

Letting out a sigh, Maximilian called out to Erhim.

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Whose idea was that?"

At those words, Erhim smiled softly.

"Don't you already know?"

"I see."

"Is there perhaps something else I don't know?"

"Not at the moment."

At the meaningful response, Maximilian sighed.

"When on earth is my brother planning to wake up?"

Feeling uneasy about the inevitable sacrifices to come, he needlessly sought out his unconscious brother.

* * *

Abandoning the flimsy wooden fences, the forces of the Central lords scattered. All that remained were the soldiers of House Shurtl, whose territory was right behind them.

The survivors of Ballorhard and the Silver Foxes tended to their major and minor wounds at the shoddy wooden fences, preparing to fight once again.

During that time, a messenger sent from the center, having been informed of the situation, paid them a visit. Through the messenger, they heard the news that the Royal Family and nobles planned to dispatch additional reinforcements.

Maximilian could never forget the expression Vincent Ballorhard made when he heard those words.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his face contorting like a demon, filled with piercing resentment and rage.

The forces of Winter Castle, who had already spoken much less and carried a brutal atmosphere since that day, became completely on edge after that.

Their momentum was so fierce that the soldiers of House Shurtl didn't even dare to go anywhere near them.

Watching them, Maximilian let out a sigh.

Because the Royal Family dragged their feet, and because the nobles of the Central region failed to properly grasp the severity of the situation, far too many talents who would have been precious to the kingdom had died.

A Silver Lion had died, and knights who did not fear death had perished in vain. Fearless Rangers and soldiers had all become corpses.

The devotion and sacrifice they had shown for hundreds of years were thrown into the gutter.

Just how much had the kingdom lost, and how much more would it lose in the future?

Just thinking about it made him dizzy.

"The forces of House Quern have been annihilated!"

News of the Central lords' defeats came in from everywhere. And it wasn't just a defeat; they were massacred, leaving hardly any survivors.

Five of the six territories adjacent to Ballorhard were laid to waste. And the damages were increasing exponentially.

Stories spread that the Central Army had established a secondary defensive line bordering the Reintes River, which cut across the relatively rearward Central region. News also reached them that the reinforcements marching toward the northernmost parts of the Central region had turned back and headed for the secondary defensive line.

"His Majesty suggested that His Highness the Second Prince and His Excellency Count Ballorhard also retreat to the secondary defensive line."

At the messenger's words, Count Shurtl turned deathly pale.

The messenger's words were no different from saying that the kingdom would practically abandon the six great territories adjacent to Ballorhard and the dozens of smaller territories around them.

"They plan to shrink the frontline along the Reintes River and concentrate their forces, so it's tactically not a bad choice. The problem is that if they do so, the territories north of the river will become absolute wastelands."

At Erhim Kilinger's confirmation, Count Shurtl slumped down to the floor.

"I should have sent troops back then, no matter what those around me said..."

Maximilian squeezed his eyes shut.

It was a textbook case of letting a small problem turn into a massive disaster, and the weight of the fallen Winter Castle loomed large once again.

The nobles of the Central region belatedly clung to the survivors of Winter Castle. They hoped that at least they would stand with them.

It was a sickeningly selfish thought, and a shallow trick.

"When Ballorhard called for help, who among you took that hand?"

Intimidated by Vincent's freezing tone, the nobles changed their targets and clung to Maximilian.

"Y-Your Highness! We were ignorant and made a grave mistake! If you give us a chance even now, we will grind our bones and crush our bodies to contribute to stabilizing the North! Please lead us foolish ones!"

Seeing the nobles prostrate on the ground and begging desperately, Maximilian's feelings were only complicated.

Their cries in the face of a disaster they brought upon themselves were both ugly and pitiful.

"Disgusting bastards."

"Y-Your Highness?"

The nobles wore dumbfounded expressions at the curse spat out by the prince who was famous for being gentle and polite.

CLAP, CLAP, CLAP.

At that moment, the sound of clapping could be heard from somewhere.

"You sure said that refreshingly well."

Turning their heads, their eyes saw a boy standing while being supported by a woman who looked like a maid.

Upon discovering the boy, Vincent, Maximilian, and everyone else leapt to their feet as if on cue.

"Y-Your Highness!"

The boy, the First Prince, waved his hand at them. The First Prince's gaze turned to the nobles.

A ghostly fire blazed within his deeply sunken eyes.

"It just so happens that all the bastards I wanted to meet are gathered right here."