Chapter 128 - The Last Ravnoma (1)

Soldiers were walking along a narrow mountain path.

The creaking of wagons, apparently loaded down with something heavy, echoed through the mountains.

"... But there have been strange rumors going around lately."

"What rumors?"

The march was not merely peaceful, but boring.

The supply convoy headed for Deirmar had come along a road that was just that peaceful, and one by one, everyone was beginning to relax.

"They say supply convoys going to Deirmar are being plundered."

"Plundered?"

One of the soldiers must have been bored of walking, because he began speaking to the man beside him.

But the soldier who heard him only snorted and laughed, as if it were ridiculous.

"What kind of bandits would rob a supply convoy packed with soldiers?"

"I'm telling you, it's true. I heard the people in the last village talking about it."

Who would dare attack soldiers armed to the teeth?

No matter how much more vulnerable a supply unit was than an ordinary army column, it would still be too much of a burden for ordinary bandits to take as a target.

"Don't talk nonsense. If there were a group big enough to rob soldiers in the first place, rumors would've spread long ago."

"... I guess that's true."

The soldier who had started the conversation seemed to realize his worries had been needless, and merely scratched his head and shut his mouth.

Besides, these were wartime conditions.

Even if there were bandits capable of robbing a supply convoy, with soldiers coming and going everywhere right now, this was the time for them to keep their heads down and hold their breath.

"Hm?"

But misfortune was always something that approached from beyond perception and common sense.

"Arrows! Fire arrows!"

"The wagons are on fire!"

And ill omens always drew closer when their names were spoken.

"The trees are falling!"

Fire arrows filled with malice shot out from the undergrowth, and at the same time, trees began collapsing before and behind the column.

"It's an ambush! Ambush!"

"Everyone, draw your weapons!"

The road was blocked in an instant.

Black smoke rose from the wagons, and startled horses screamed. It was the moment Bayezid's malice, which had rooted itself deep in the West, bared its fangs.

"Everyone, stay calm!"

Though the situation was sudden and unexpected, the commander of the supply convoy quickly tried to encourage the knight and soldiers under him and calm the situation.

"All stop! Protect the cargo!"

A middle-aged knight with a solemn air.

As experienced as he appeared, he quickly tried to take control of the situation and prepare for the ambush to come, but...

"...!"

But the malice rushing toward him was only faster and sharper than he had imagined.

Terrifying speed.

But by the time he saw it, it was too late, and by the time he reacted, it had already passed.

"Kuh, kuhuk!"

With a chilling sensation, hot liquid surged up.

As if unable to believe what was happening, the commander of the supply convoy clutched his throat and choked, but the pulse that had begun in his heart was already spraying endlessly out through his neck.

"... He could not even react."

While the soldiers froze at the sudden turn of events, someone was smiling with the scattered spray of blood behind him.

Not a duel, but a battle.

Even so, the secret of the one-strike sure-kill held true on any battlefield.

"At this level... I can manage it."

Where did he stand, and how far could he go against others?

The young knight without experience had struggled to grasp his own position through countless cross-checks, and now, at last, he could be certain.

"You two can come at me too."

He was now strong enough to be a formidable existence to someone.

"Have you lost your mind! The commander..."

"You bastard! Who are you!"

The two knights, flustered by their commander's death, hurriedly drew their swords and approached while surrounding Vlad.

Two against one.

But the one truly overwhelming the battlefield was the one facing two.

"Who am I?"

A quiet but resonant voice.

As everyone watched, a single stream of a world slowly began to flow from the blond-haired man.

"I am someone who has received rightful authority from a noble lady."

A clearly shining aura began to flow from his closed left eye.

A flag, a name, and a world.

Vlad was now someone qualified to engrave his own world upon this world.

"I am Vlad, knight of Lady Alicia."

A single cry rang quietly through the forest.

At that cry, the forest began to stir as if it had been waiting.

"Now!"

"Kill them all!"

Vicious mercenaries and hungry barbarians.

At Vlad's call, unidentified men began leaping out.

Between distorted tattoos, white gleaming teeth stood out clearly.

"You sons of bitches! What took you so long!"

"Finally, we get to chop people instead of trees!"

One scream, then one shout.

Soldiers' helmets burst beneath hideous axes.

Beneath the endlessly swaying banners of the West, the grain loaded on the wagons began to swallow crimson blood and wet its dry throat.

"Let's get started already. At this rate, all your men are going to die."

"Y-You..."

Unlike Vlad's relaxed expression, the two knights were merely flustered.

Screams kept ringing out behind their backs.

And yet, the reason the knights could not easily thrust their swords toward the intruder before them was simple.

"Not coming in?"

Because this place was Vlad's battlefield now.

Because the world naturally flowing from him was slowly dyeing this world in his color.

* * *

"Good work."

"Not at all, Father."

Sturma, a city bound together with the history of Bayezid.

There, two Bayezids were looking at each other.

"As you commanded, I brought all the soldiers from the forts on the northern limit line. There are roughly one thousand soldiers."

"Good."

After hearing Rutiger's report, Peter nodded in satisfaction and accepted the map handed to him by his adviser, Ragmus.

"The enemy is currently advancing north toward Deirmar. Their scale is roughly five thousand."

Peter explained the detailed state of the war along with the map.

With soldiers moving so openly at a time like this, there was no reason they would fail to notice.

"Against them, even with Heinal's soldiers included, we have only about three thousand."

"... Yes."

Gaidar was not coming north alone.

He was advancing while receiving direct and indirect support from the six families that followed him, so with a force of this size, it would not be wrong to call it the Western allied army.

"What does the Iron Duke say?"

"He said he would block any possible threat from the barbarians, but... as expected, direct participation seems difficult."

However, despite the West's powerful provocation, Timur Baranoff, the Iron Duke and guardian of the North, was in no position to participate in Gaidar's northward advance.

For him, the most urgent matter had to be dealing with the wicked existence in the Barony of Uthman.

The army of the center, still lingering there like a thorn lodged in flesh, was binding the Iron Duke's limbs.

"On the surface, this is, in the end, a confrontation between Deirmar and Gaidar, so aside from us, their direct ally, the other northern lords have no real cause to participate."

At the shape of this unfavorable situation, as if someone had pieced it all together, Peter could not help but furrow his brow.

A war between seven families and two families.

If one looked at the numbers alone, it would seem as though the outcome had already been decided.

"However, there is certainly an opening we can pierce."

Peter's finger pointed to one side of the map.

The rear of the West.

It was where the western families that had not yet fixed their stance were located.

"Gaidar is not yet the complete ruler of the West, and their allied army is like a bundle of straw tied with a loose cord. So we will aim for this."

The greatest reason Gaidar was aiming for the North was the stability of his system.

Acquiring insufficient resources while also solidifying their regime through a powerful army was likely the top priority of this war.

"I will give you eight hundred soldiers."

"Give the order, Father."

To win, one had to know the enemy and know oneself.

And Peter had already grasped their own strengths as well as the fatal weaknesses Gaidar possessed.

"You will lead the soldiers I give you and go down by ship."

"... By ship?"

It was a sudden order to advance south.

Unlike the flustered Rutiger, Peter's finger firmly pointed to the river that began at Soara.

"The enemy is like grains of sand, so we will gouge into the gaps between them."

The direction of a war was decided from the preparation stage.

From the beginning, Peter had no intention of deciding the victory or defeat of this war in a grand battle where five thousand clashed against three thousand.

"You will lead the soldiers and occupy Nassau, the city of the Barony of Iznik."

"...!"

Peter's finger followed the river toward the sea.

No one would expect it.

No one would expect Bayezid to pull out soldiers and launch a preemptive strike under these circumstances.

"It is fine if you cannot occupy it. Instead, destroy it thoroughly."

They would not be able to enter Iznik's harbor, where many ships were gathered, directly.

However, if they could successfully land near it, it was certain that the city of Nassau would have no proper way to stop Rutiger's soldiers.

Their remaining land forces were already busy operating supply convoys for Gaidar.

"Understood, Father."

Only now grasping Peter's intention, Rutiger lowered his head while accepting the orders Peter handed him.

"Perhaps through this war, we may gain an ice-free port."

"... This is not yet the time to calculate gains."

A war no one could help them with.

The conditions were clearly unfavorable, but if one turned that around, it also meant that every spoil of this war would belong to Bayezid.

A ruler named Peter was a ruler who prepared not only for the worst move, but also for the best.

"Go. And be careful."

"Understood, Father."

Rutiger, having recognized the sincerity contained within that dry tone, left the office with a small smile.

CAW— CAW—

The office after Rutiger had left.

As Peter and Ragmus quietly looked down at the map, the sight of a crow pecking at the window entered their view.

From the way it pecked without hesitation, it seemed this was not its first or second time doing so.

"It has finally arrived."

"Hm."

A crow carrying the news they had been waiting for.

It was a letter sent by the covert unit Peter had raised with as much care as his knight order.

"... It seems he has changed his name to Marcus this time."

The name changed every time a dispatch was sent, but that was not what mattered.

What mattered was whether the contents written inside could satisfy Peter or not.

"Good."

Peter did not readily reveal his emotions, but this time, a faint smile was on his face.

"Ragmus. Prepare the crystal ball for Joseph."

"Understood, Count."

Seeing Peter's truly satisfied expression, Ragmus could guess what was written in the dispatch.

With Ragmus's low incantation, the light of the crystal ball slowly began to brighten.

Peter's gaze, quietly watching that light, was growing more and more distant.

"... They were the ones who began it, so it is only proper that we bring it to an end."

Bayezid, a pillar and prestigious house of the North.

The gaze of Peter Bayezid, head of that family, was fixed beyond Deirmar, toward the western usurper approaching from the north.

The coldheartedness of the North had no intention of letting those who invaded them go gently.

* * *

The battlefield had grown quiet before anyone realized it.

Only the merciless chops of blades, falling in time with the occasional groans, filled this place.

There, Vlad sat atop a half-collapsed wagon, chewing on something.

"Is that good?"

"It's nutty. In its own way."

His hands moved busily as he peeled away the husk of half-scorched wheat.

But anyone could see that the action did not suit his appearance.

"Hey, deputy. Did you burn all the food?"

"Burned it all."

"The arrows too?"

"Of course I burned those too. You think this is my first time doing this?"

Age reported to Vlad with great confidence.

That was only natural, since plunder and arson were among the barbarians' specialties.

"Did you loot all the gold coins too?"

"..."

"Bring them here. Every last one."

Age could only sigh as he looked at Vlad's palm, shaking as if telling him to hurry up and hand it over.

"No matter how I look at it, this side suits you better than being a knight."

"Hurry up and bring them. I told you I'll distribute them all later, didn't I?"

A back-alley thug naturally shaking down a horse bandit of the plains.

Joseph's choice of personnel had been far too accurate.

Watching the scene of evil being subdued by evil, Stefan ended up shaking his head.

"If you've looted everything, let's go."

He did not know which family it belonged to, but Vlad's strike force had succeeded in ambushing the supply convoy according to their orders.

At Vlad's instructions, wagons began catching fire here and there.

The nutty smell of wheat beginning to blaze seemed to hide, just a little, the fishy stench of blood.

"Chief. There. A crow's coming."

"Hmm."

Like a barbarian with sharp eyes, Age spotted the crow circling in the sky.

Seeing that, Vlad merely tilted his head crookedly.

"How the hell do they find me every time?"

The crow, no doubt sent by that unknown knight, Marcus, slowly descended in circles and began approaching Vlad.

The black feathers that landed before long reminded him of the scar-covered man.

"... They say crows like shiny things."

"So?"

Age shrugged at Vlad's question and answered.

"Doesn't blond hair shine? Even if I were a crow, I think I'd find you easily."

"... Turns out you're a crow expert."

Answering Age's idle remark with a sneer, Vlad took the message tube attached to the crow's ankle with practiced hands.

"Where to next, then?"

As soon as one mission ended, another job had come in, but no one here complained.

After all, they were in the middle of a war, and they understood that the more they moved without rest, the more advantageous it became for Bayezid.

And Bayezid was one of the few employers who paid generously.

"Follow the crow?"

Two orders were written on the small slip of paper.

One was to move while following the crow.

And the other remaining order.

'The last remaining Ravnoma?'

To rescue the last remaining Ravnoma from that place.

Unlike before, the handwriting written in bold showed the importance of this mission.

CAW—

After reading the final order, Vlad naturally looked at the crow that was stealing the wheat he held in his hand.

The eyes that met his seemed to be asking whether he was ready to leave now.