Chapter 140 - The Beast of Possibility (1)

“I am sorry, Father.”

Today’s twilight was setting behind the man as he bowed his head deeply.

Red twilight, bowed red hair, and even the blood-colored bandages wrapped around the man’s hand.

Having come back with the North’s fierce warning carved into his body, Radu stood there utterly at a loss, as if he did not know where to put himself.

“It... could not be helped. I understand.”

A strained voice came from between the deep shadows cast by the twilight.

Listening to that breath, almost like a groan, Radu carefully raised his head.

“The Iron Duke of this generation was... not such an easy man either.”

At the end of Radu’s gaze was an old man, struggling to rise while gripping a cane.

The old man stepped down the stairs, treading upon today’s fading sun.

His staggering steps slowly pressed into the soft carpet as he descended toward Radu.

“Still, it is a little disappointing, my son.”

“...!”

Unlike his unsteady steps, the old man had somehow come down in a single stride, and he embraced his son as if to console him, but Radu, held in his arms, only grew tense.

“After receiving such hospitality in the North, you should have returned at least a little of it.”

“I am sorry, I am sorry.”

A clear voice, unlike the strained one from just moments ago.

The middle-aged man stroked his coarse beard as if something displeased him, looking at Radu’s left hand dyed red.

“A shabby state, unfit for one who has inherited dragon’s blood.”

Defeat, dishonor, and even a fierce challenge against himself.

Looking at his own son, who had come all the way here with all manner of filth clinging to him, Dragonblood Duke Sarnus merely pressed his lips tightly shut.

“You worked hard coming here. Go and rest.”

“... Yes, Father.”

In the dark hall where there were only the two of them, the light cast by candles had somehow filled the room, though no one had lit them.

Within the light swaying this way and that with the wind, his father’s youthful face could be seen.

Radu looked at the Dragonblood Duke’s face, hidden by shadow, and bowed his head once more.

“... Mircea.”

“Yes, Father.”

After Radu bowed his head and departed.

At Sarnus’s call, from that space they had believed held only the two of them, one shadow slowly raised its head.

“It seems that one has reached his limit.”

“... Is that so.”

Mircea, who possessed the very same color as his father, could immediately understand what Duke Sarnus was saying.

“A fruit that cannot ripen will only rot if left hanging any longer.”

A man comparing the son of his own blood to a rotting fruit.

Unlike Radu, Mircea could see through the darkness, and so he knew what expression his father was wearing now.

“In any case, I wonder how far this son will grow.”

The Dragonblood Duke’s hand, now smooth without a single wrinkle, carefully set down the cane he no longer needed.

“It is my first time sowing possibility in the mire, after all.”

In every corner of the dark hall, from places sunlight did not reach, candles began to light.

The flicker they created was illuminating the oldest dragon’s blue eyes.

※※※※

The walls of Deirmar, where the war had ended, were still covered in black soot clinging to them.

Along with heaps of half-burned ash, bloodstains were still splattered all throughout Deirmar.

And the occasional sound of someone weeping showed that Deirmar was still groaning from the wounds of war.

“Cough, cough.”

They had won the war, but what remained here was nothing but unavoidable gloom.

In this city filled with the corpses of the dead and the groans of the wounded, Joseph simply lay still on his bed and looked out the window.

“... Still, nothing has changed.”

Joseph’s frail body had ultimately been unable to withstand the aftermath of the fierce siege.

One might have thought it fortunate that he had collapsed only after fulfilling every duty given to him, but in Joseph’s eyes as he looked west, there was resentment that was not so easily calmed.

From childhood until now, Joseph’s cursed body had constantly held him back.

“By now, will they have reached Nassau?”

“Most likely. The lords in the vicinity should not have the strength to stop us.”

Perhaps Jager understood Joseph’s feelings as well, for he only quietly stroked his eyepatch and looked out the window.

Just as Jager said, the Bayezid army was probably still marching west without hesitation even now.

The battle had ended, but the war had only begun, and Bayezid had the right to exact the price from the western lords who had dared to point their swords at them first.

“... I see. Was Vlad still drained?”

But unlike those who moved forward, those who remained here had to face the wounds that had built up until now.

In a violent collision, scrapes that could not be helped were bound to form, and Joseph, left behind against his will, had a duty to tend to such wounds.

“Was it his first loss?”

“Officially, yes.”

Listening to Jager’s words, Joseph could not help letting out a hollow laugh.

“To think his first defeat would be against Godin of Gaidar...”

His present circumstances were gloomy, but even so, there was a reason he could smile a little.

Deirmar seemed gloomy in every way, but a small remnant of glory still remained in this city.

“Should I call this losing well? With the weight of Godin’s name, he will not be looked down on anywhere.”

“He did not die, so it is certainly fortunate.”

Jager merely twisted his lips as if displeased by something in Joseph’s words, but he could not particularly refute him.

As Joseph said, there were mountains in this world that were highly praised simply for being climbed.

Rugged mountains where one could be applauded merely for making the attempt, whatever the result might be.

And Godin of Gaidar, whom Vlad had attempted to face, was certainly someone worthy of that.

“Whatever the result, Vlad will now enter the world of knights in earnest.”

If there were falling stars, then there were also rising stars.

Perhaps by the time the results of this war spread far and wide, every gossipmonger in the empire would hear one newly risen name.

A newcomer who had charged through Gaidar’s formation and survived even after facing the powerful enemy named Godin.

Vlad of Soara.

A name others would now recognize first, even if he did not cry it out himself.

Watching Jager stubbornly deny it, saying it was still too early, Joseph coughed lightly and smiled.

※※※※

“That bastard who climbed up the wall! What the hell is he!”

“It’s Vlad! Vlad Blue-Eyes!”

The city of Nassau in the Barony of Iznik.

The city, which had already once been burned by Rutiger, raised spears against the Bayezid army, but it was not a particularly meaningful act.

“Are you going to open the gate or not?”

“... Grrr.”

The road he had walked was overflowing with blood, and the blue eyes looking down at him were filled with killing intent.

As befitted the infamy spreading through the West, Bayezid’s young knight had not hung mercy on the tip of his sword.

“If you don’t answer this time either, you die. You think you’re the only man here who knows how to open the gate?”

“I’ll open it, I will.”

The city of Nassau had only ever possessed a few hundred land troops to begin with.

With walls that had already been destroyed once and no longer functioned properly, and with the reinforcements they had overextended themselves to send in order to side with Gaidar, Nassau’s strength had been weakened even further, and Peter, the commander-in-chief of this war, had seen through that weakness perfectly.

“By the way, you. What did you call me earlier?”

“Y-Yes?”

They were only about ten knights, but just as Peter had predicted, they seized the walls splendidly.

Even if their numbers were small, the weight of knights’ names was heavier than hundreds of soldiers.

“He said blue eyes. Vlad Blue-Eyes.”

Vlad frowned as he looked at Rutiger, who was passing by with an amused laugh.

Blue-Eyes?

Wasn’t that far too weightless for a title placed before a knight’s name?

RUMBLE!

Whatever Vlad’s complaint might have been, Nassau’s drawbridge began to descend over the moat along with the heavy iron chains.

Only knights could stand against knights.

Unfortunately, however, Nassau did not possess capable knights who could oppose the knights of Bayezid.

“Each commander, make certain to tell your soldiers.”

Looking at the drawbridge slowly descending before him, Peter once again issued a cold warning.

“In Nassau alone, no plundering of any kind will be permitted. Anyone who violates this will be severely punished.”

At Peter’s sharp command, the soldiers around him swallowed without realizing it.

No matter how strict an army’s discipline might be, plundering that happened implicitly was unavoidable.

However, Peter Bayezid was controlling the army completely with a presence harsher than the freezing snows of the north wind.

“Enter.”

“Yes, Count.”

The city of Nassau.

The northernmost port city that did not freeze.

Although it was customary in Territory Wars to guarantee each lord’s right to rule, at least according to unspoken agreement, Peter had no intention of following that custom in Nassau.

“If possible, I would like to take it with little loss.”

From the beginning, he had intended to take this city, at least.

Yearning for the wider world was likely not a privilege held only by young boys.

Bayezid, too, no longer wished to remain confined within the North.

“Run to the harbor! You know where it is, right?”

“The way we came in was completely different!”

After confirming that the drawbridge had descended, the knights hurriedly jumped down from the wall and began running down toward Nassau’s harbor.

At the faintly visible end, a massive ship they had not seen last time had begun to spread its sails.

“They really were getting ready to run!”

Just as Vlad shouted, Baron Iznik had probably planned to do this from the beginning.

The Gaidar he had hitched himself to had toppled over, and he would not be able to stop the northern forces descending west in high spirits by his own strength alone.

“Run!”

Rutiger’s knights, each with worlds of their own, hurriedly began racing toward the harbor.

“To the first one to reach the harbor...”

“Noir!”

Before Rutiger could finish speaking, Vlad began shouting loudly toward the gate.

It could not be helped if they missed Baron Iznik, but he could not help coveting the wealth the man had packed away.

War was a monster that fed on gold coins, and those gold coins were clearly the treasure the defeated had to pay.

“What does the first one get?”

“... In any case, I will give you a generous share.”

Seeing the black horse already pressed close when Vlad had merely called a single name, Rutiger let out a sigh.

“I’m looking forward to this winter when the accounts are settled.”

“If he sets that ship sailing now, even that will become a complete waste of expectation.”

Although he said as much, Rutiger knew that Vlad, together with Noir, would reach the harbor faster than anyone.

The sight of him tearing through Gaidar’s formation was still vivid before his eyes.

“Let’s go!”

NEIGH!

At Vlad’s shout, there was a black horse galloping down the slope toward the harbor.

The blue sea sparkled beneath the summer sun.

In Vlad’s eyes as he looked at that light, the blue moonlight he had hung in his own world had already come to rest.

“Do not let him reach the harbor!”

“Stop that bastard! Stop him!”

Looking at the soldiers blocking his way, Vlad quietly closed his left eye atop the running Noir.

Vlad’s world had now found its own color.

“Get out of the way, you bastards!”

There are things that can no longer be reached, and for that very reason do not change.

Godin’s moon no longer hung in the high, high night sky, but even so, for Vlad, it was still a shining moon.

A color that was not white, not green, and not blue either, but entirely Vlad’s own began to ripple like waves from the tip of his sword.

The beginning of that world dyed in golden light had probably started from the blue moonlight that rose beside a campfire.