Chapter 74 - Half, and Half (2)

Contrary to their concerns, the King of Orcs remained quiet after arriving at the front lines. He did not reveal himself on the battlefield, nor did he specifically lead the Orcs.

The King of Orcs literally did nothing.

He merely existed in that place.

And that alone changed so many things.

The Orcs up until now were brave and fierce, but they were not monsters who knew no fear. However, after the King of Orcs arrived at the front lines, they became monsters who knew neither fear nor pain.

They were like berserkers.

They paid no mind if an arm or a leg flew off, and even with dozens of arrows stuck in their bodies, they still brought down their swords and axes.

Even before this, the kingdom's soldiers had barely been holding off the Orcs.

Faced with the maddened, rampaging Orcs, the soldiers died helplessly.

First, the great lords' heavy armored infantry were swept away. Next, the pikemen were annihilated.

The knights jumped in and tried to somehow push the front line up, but it was beyond their power.

With a mere four hundred exhausted knights, it was impossible to completely hold off the two thousand Orcs that had already crossed the bridge.

The soldiers who were supposed to support them from behind were terrified and frozen in place, unable to move, and the nobles who were supposed to lead them were paralyzed by the presence of the Warlord felt from across the river, unable to do anything.

The active efforts of the Second Prince, who had done well to encourage the soldiers at the very front lines until now, did not work this time.

The soldiers were completely terrified, and their formation collapsed. Due to the Orcs intruding through the gaps, the casualties increased exponentially.

A few brave commanders rushed about trying to rally the soldiers, but they only ended up becoming targets for the Orcs instead.

Realizing that the moment they shouted loudly they became targets for the Orcs, the commanders fell silent.

The soldiers, left without orders, ran about in confusion, and the links connecting the units were completely severed.

Absurdly, a farce unfolded where soldiers became isolated right in the middle of their own allied forces.

However, this laughable situation was not laughable at all to those involved. In the chaotic melee, soldiers continued to die.

Now, it was only a matter of time before the front line completely collapsed.

At that moment, the kingdom's Silver Lion stepped forward.

The clear aura brought forth by the Silver Lion calmed the soldiers' confusion. However, simply regaining their senses was not enough to overturn the tide of battle.

Ultimately, it was only after the Silver Lion directly joined the battle that the situation could be brought under control.

The allied forces of the Central region suffered much greater casualties on that single day than they had over the past ten days.

The heavy armored infantry were decimated, and the spearmen were annihilated. The archers were also swept up in the battle and sustained significant losses.

But what was most agonizing of all was the death of the knights.

The number of knights who died in action on that single day was a staggering one hundred and forty-two. One knighthood had completely collapsed, and the remaining one also lost half of its knights.

It was the damage suffered from forcefully trying to push the Orcs back without the support of the soldiers.

"We shouldn't have faced them on a plain like this, which isn't even a fortress, to begin with!"

"We must pull the troops back, even now!"

The nobles, who until recently had been babbling that this place was a natural fortress capable of fending off an enemy several times their size, now shouted in terror.

"If we retreat from here, the Central region will end up like the North, so where are you saying we should retreat to!"

"There is the Tyrien Fortress not far from here. We should easily be able to stop them there."

"What a foolish thing to say! How do you know if the Orcs will head to the fortress or somewhere else!"

"Then are you saying we should all die together here! I refuse! Even if I must endure a momentary dishonor, I will retreat and plan for the future!"

Watching the nobles raise their voices, Maximilian pressed a hand to his forehead.

Seeing them act as if they had already lost made him feel dizzy.

He thought they could hold out. Given what they had done so far, he thought they could last a few days even if the Warlord appeared.

He was mistaken.

Just the Warlord's presence looming over the battlefield terrified the soldiers of the Central region. He braved the danger and stepped up to encourage them until his voice gave out, but it was no use.

Maximilian could newly realize just how brave the soldiers of Winter Castle had been. He could also acutely feel just how lacking he was compared to his older brother.

If his older brother had been here, the front line wouldn't have collapsed in an instant like this.

A sense of shame crushed Maximilian's entire body.

But this was not the time to just be blaming himself.

At this rate, they would completely collapse tomorrow.

If the Silver Lion, Count Richter Liechtein, had not stepped forward, they wouldn't have lasted today either.

"Tomorrow, I will fight alongside the knights from the beginning."

The old knight spoke, as if seeing through his inner thoughts.

That was reassuring, yet simultaneously anxiety-inducing on one hand.

The Warlord he had seen at Winter Castle roared several times to boast of his spirit. However, today the Warlord was excessively quiet. He literally did nothing.

Unable to understand that, Maximilian fell into thought.

If Count Richter Liechtein felt the Warlord's presence, he too must have felt the Count's presence.

Perhaps he was testing the waters, uncharacteristically.

Whether the opponent was a cold soup that could be downed in one gulp, or a hot soup that would burn the roof of his mouth,

If so, he had to stop the Silver Lion from stepping forward. If they didn't show their strength on this side, his probing would also lengthen.

But then again, if he stopped the Silver Lion from participating, there was no way to maintain the front line.

He pondered and pondered again, but no other solution came up.

Thus, a day passed without him finding any answer.

The next day, before the sun even rose, the Orcs launched another fierce attack. Thanks to the Silver Lion standing in the front line alongside the knights, they were able to repel the Orcs.

The day after that, and the day after that as well, they barely managed to block the front line and hold out.

And the morning of the fifth day dawned.

The sight of the Orcs swarming across the river, and the sight of their completely exhausted allies, were no different from usual.

If there was any difference, it was only the bizarre silence that had settled across the river.

"What the. Why is it so quiet."

"Are they just going to skip today?"

The knights standing in the front exchanged conversations in intimidated voices.

At that exact moment, someone shouted.

"Cover your ears!"

At the same time, a horrific roar erupted from across the river.

* * *

Grrr.

Making a sound like boiling phlegm, the Orc Warrior slumped to its knees. Blood gushed and poured out from between the fingers clutching its neck.

Drip, drop.

The Orc Warrior, staring at the blood pouring from its body, raised its head. A man with a cold expression looked down at the Orc Warrior before adjusting his grip on his sword to a reverse grip.

Grrr.

The Orc Warrior reached out its hand.

Thud.

The strong grip that would normally have crushed a human's neck in a single breath slipped down, unable to even properly grasp a hem of clothing.

The man, looking at the dark green hand touching his body, drove his sword down as it was. With a *shuck* sound, the sword was thrust into the back of the Orc Warrior's neck.

The Orc Warrior trembled before burying its face straight into the snow.

The man flicked the blood off his sword blade and straightened his back.

He could see surviving Orcs. However, their numbers were not many, and even those were rapidly dwindling.

And finally, the screams of the Orcs could no longer be heard.

"We have taken care of all the Orcs within the castle."

"The inside?"

"The knights are searching."

At those words, the man, Vincent Ballorhard, looked around.

The blood-soaked soldiers and knights were looking at him. The aspiration contained in their gazes pushed Vincent's back.

Vincent climbed the stairs of the castle wall.

As he arrived atop the wall, a knight handed him a pole wrapped in a bundle of cloth, as if he had been waiting. Vincent silently accepted the pole and drove it straight into the groove on the wall.

With a small noise, the cloth wrapped around the pole unspooled. The hanging cloth puffed up to its fullest in the wind that blew at just the right moment.

Flap.

A crest made of three overlapping shields revealed itself in the middle of the blue cloth.

It was the symbol of House Ballorhard, the Triple Shield.

Vincent, who looked at the crest for a moment, stood at the edge of the wall and looked down. The bloodstained knights and soldiers were looking up at him with uniform expressions.

"Men of Ballorhard!"

Meeting each and every one of those gazes, Vincent shouted out.

"We have finally returned!"

A declaration that was like a roar.

"And we have reclaimed it!"

The soldiers and knights shouted as one voice.

"The shield that blocks the biting wind is eternal!"

Vincent responded.

"Winter shall not come again!"

"Woooooah!"

The soldiers and knights yelled.

Some wept and wailed, while others smiled brightly and kissed the castle wall. Still others squeezed their eyes shut and saved their words.

Although their methods varied, the emotion they were expressing was the exact same one.

Joy, the gladness and deep emotion of reclaiming the fortress that had been taken from them.

"Mm."

The lords of the North watched the men of Ballorhard cheering like so.

How great must their sorrow and resentment have been when they had to abandon the castle they had guarded for hundreds of years, and how great their joy must be now that they had finally reclaimed it.

They could not even dare to let out a shout of victory alongside them.

All they could do was offer lip-service words of congratulation, but even that was not easy.

They had no face to show.

The fortress standing tall on the freezing land still retained the traces of the past battle, completely frozen solid. Frozen pieces of corpses were scattered everywhere.

Someone's arm, which had clearly been left uneaten by the Orcs, was still clutching a sword, and the glaring eyes of someone who only had a head left were still glaring at something.

The entire castle wall was red.

They could not even dare to guess just how long they had fought, and how much blood they had shed.

"Let us go."

Count Shurtl, who had been hesitating with a stiff face, led the lords and climbed the stairs heading atop the wall.

Upon climbing the wall, a blade-like wind clawed at their faces.

They couldn't even properly open their eyes. And the sound of the wind was so loud that their ears were almost deafened.

And just how cold it was.

But not a single person complained that it was cold.

Atop the wall, too, it was full of pieces of corpses left uneaten by the Orcs.

Remnants of hacked armor and broken spears and swords were scattered everywhere. There were countless frozen ladders and hooks hung on the wall.

The struggles of those who had fought desperately against the Orcs swarming and dyeing the bottom of the wall black were drawn before their eyes as if they had seen it themselves. It felt as if the roars of the monsters and the screams of the soldiers were ringing in their ears.

Is this the kind of place they fought in?

Amidst this cutting wind and cold that was hard to endure for even a moment, the soldiers of Winter Castle had fought against the Orcs for months.

Waiting for reinforcements that never came no matter how long they waited.

"I was just about to head down anyway."

While they were blankly looking at the scene atop the wall, the lord of Winter Castle spoke to them.

"Congratulations on the reclamation of Winter Castle."

"Congratulations."

Startled, the lords reflexively offered words of congratulation.

"Thank you."

At that dry reply, the lords shut their mouths and lowered their heads.

It was because they knew all too well the fact that they were not in a position to receive gratitude.

The lord of Winter Castle looked at them with an indifferent face before turning his gaze beyond the wall. The lords followed the lord of Winter Castle and looked beyond.

A pure white snowfield, the mountain ranges meeting at its end, it was a landscape like a painting. However, inside that picturesque landscape, all sorts of vicious monsters were swarming.

That was exactly the reason why the lord of Winter Castle and the lords had come up north instead of heading south. They couldn't just leave the gates of Winter Castle open simply because it had already been breached by the Orcs once.

["I will give you a chance to make up for your mistakes."]

The First Prince said that this was the final chance given to them.

["Assist in the reclamation of Winter Castle and defend the castle alongside Count Ballorhard."]

Since they had successfully completed the reclamation of Winter Castle, the only mission left was to block the monsters. And it wasn't only the monsters coming down from the mountains that they had to stop.

["Do not let a single one of the Orcs who pass through here set foot on the mountains alive."]

With a single word of command from the First Prince, the fortress that was once merely meant to defend had become a guillotine for the defeated stragglers.

And one where executioners, anxious to grind up and drink the condemned, were waiting.