Episode 241
The events that transpired in the Imperial Assembly quickly spread across the entire continent.
Just before that, a formidable force had gathered in the Duchy of Lancaster.
These were the individuals who, following the lead of the “Dark Duke,” had resolved to question and oppose the Empire’s power.
In the Great Hall of Lancaster Castle, Dale, the leader of the Shadow Faction, stood silently with his head bowed. Beside him sat Charlotte, the Duchess of Lancaster, who had risen to become one of the Empire’s most powerful nobles alongside her husband.
Gathered there were the knights of the shadows and those who had decided to break away from the Empire amidst the shifting tides of power.
Dale calculated his chess pieces with a cool demeanor and then raised his head with calm determination.
“All of you here remember well the might the Empire displayed during the Unification War.”
Officially, Dale of Saxony was born after the war ended, but he was no stranger to it. He had been on the front lines, executing the Empire’s ambitions.
“I am deeply grateful for the courage of those who have chosen to stand with me, despite knowing that power.”
Dale continued, “Our goal is singular.”
To bring down the Empire.
“Afterward, I will not interfere with the decisions you make on the ruins of the fallen Empire.”
His words stirred murmurs among the gathered nobles. The aim was to dismantle the Empire of Light and establish an Empire of Shadows, but it would never be “Dale’s Empire.”
“Our war is solely for peace.”
Yet, the task at hand was crystal clear. It was time to set aside the chess pieces and begin the game.
That night.
“It’s good to see you again like this.”
Charlotte, the Duchess of Lancaster and also of Saxony, smiled warmly in their shared bedroom.
“Indeed.”
“I was shocked to hear you became the new Duke of Saxony.”
“Well, coming from the Duchess of Lancaster, that’s quite something.”
“You’re such a fool.”
Charlotte laughed, then spoke with a steady voice. “Don’t forget that I am your sword.”
A knight with the prowess of a celestial blade, Charlotte was no longer a lady Dale needed to protect unilaterally.
“Nothing will change in the coming war.”
”…”
Dale fell silent for a moment at her words.
“We all knew this day would come, didn’t we?”
Charlotte spoke with a calm resignation, and Dale nodded silently. The war was inevitable. When he defeated the Immortal Duke Frederick and truly inherited the title of Shadow Lord, the war had already become a foregone conclusion.
“Even with the death of the Holy Knight, nothing has changed.”
“He was just a pawn until the end.”
“Until the Empire that destroyed my father and homeland is gone, nothing will change.”
Charlotte spoke quietly.
“And for the sake of the Duke of Lancaster…”
Having lost two fathers to the Empire, Charlotte had no hesitation. Neither did Dale.
“I won’t ask you to sacrifice your life.”
Dale spoke, reaching out to gently touch Charlotte’s golden hair. She caught her breath at his touch.
“Be my sword and fight alongside me.”
“Yes, gladly.”
Charlotte smiled, and Dale returned the smile. At that moment, Charlotte reached out and clasped Dale’s hand, which was caressing her hair. She leaned in, and the sound of a kiss softly echoed in the room.
The continent was preparing for war, with factions divided into the Emperor’s loyalists and the rebellious nobles, the forces of gold and shadow.
Each territory began to gather its knights, conscript soldiers, and hire mercenaries, as armies assembled across the land.
The Duchy of Saxony was no exception.
In the ducal throne room, the Dark Duke raised his head.
Countless northern nobles knelt before the Duke of Saxony, clad in full plate armor, ready for battle.
“The assembly of the duchy’s knights is complete, Your Grace!”
Helmut Blackbear, leader of the Night Raven Knights, knelt and reported. Dale nodded calmly.
The representatives of Saxony’s proud military were gathered there.
Sworn to serve their lord in life and death, they bore the ominous symbol of the night raven, a harbinger of doom.
Among them was a man who once bore the name of the Duke of Saxony, now standing beside the ducal throne.
That day, he had been defeated by Dale and passed on many burdens. Yet, not all his responsibilities had vanished.
As a father devoted to his son and as the spiritual leader of Saxony and the Black Tower, Alan of Saxony silently regarded Dale.
“The time has come.”
“Yes, Father.”
At Alan’s words, Dale nodded and rose.
The two walked silently toward the underground workshop dedicated to the Dark Duke.
Dale and Alan traversed the darkness of the underground, having prepared for this moment repeatedly.
Beyond the barrier that only Saxony’s direct descendants could pass, a vast underground chamber reminiscent of a nuclear bunker unfolded.
The chamber was filled with an army of the undead.
Clad in the armor of the Night Raven Knights, the skeletal soldiers were the Death Order, the Order of the Dead Knights.
“I don’t need to explain how to control them, do I?”
Dale nodded silently at his father’s words. Handling these undead soldiers was no challenge for him.
There are countless “unmatched warriors” like the Blood Duke, the Dark Duke, Dale, and the Celestial Duke.
Dale understood the impact they could have as unparalleled weapons on the battlefield.
The Death Order here couldn’t overpower or contain such forces.
Yet, they were still human.
In a war that spanned the entire continent, the reach of a single person was limited. Even the Blood Duke or the Celestial Duke was no exception.
The necromancers were no exception either.
For Dale and the Dark Duke, raising an army of the dead from casualties was not difficult. But such an army could only exist within the “domain a necromancer could control.”
However, the undead soldiers here were different.
They could independently carry out the necromancer’s orders, regardless of distance.
With his web of blue threads spread across the continent, Dale had eyes and ears everywhere.
In this situation, the strategic value of the Death Order was undeniable.
The heads of Saxony were the continent’s foremost necromancers, capable of moving entire armies.
Despite being unmatched warriors, they understood the value of numbers on the battlefield.
Dale was no exception.
“Remember, Dale.”
At that moment, Alan of Saxony spoke.
“This war is not yours to fight alone.”
His voice was as cold as ever, and Dale nodded silently.
“I will, Father.”
The Empire was torn in two.
A massive frontline stretched across the continent, and armies began to gather along it.
Even if the war didn’t start overnight, time waited for no one.
The first battle erupted on one of the frontlines where the two factions met, and soon skirmishes broke out across the continent.
Each battle was insignificant in the grand scheme, mere preludes to the larger conflict.
A noble loyal to the Emperor and his knights clashed with a noble faction led by the Dark Duke. No mages were involved.
It was a pure melee, sword against sword.
Steel clashed, and flesh was pierced. Blood and entrails spilled.
There was no thought of taking prisoners for ransom, no room for negotiation or surrender—just a brutal struggle.
“Kill them all!”
“For the Emperor and the Empire!”
The battlefield soon became a sea of corpses and blood.
It was the blood that heralded the start of the war.
Soon after, the frontlines truly began to clash.
Leading the Emperor’s faction was Lancelot, once renowned as the Empire’s first prince.
The leader of the Iron Cross Knights and the Sword of the Lake.
A being who had received the aura heart and body of the legendary Sir Bardel, the divine sword, becoming one with the most noble knight the world had ever known.
With the bodies of fallen enemies scattered like autumn leaves behind him, Crown Prince Lancelot tightened his grip on his sword.
Even in a war that spanned the entire continent, the key strategic points were always clear. The heart of this conflict would be the maneuvering battles fought over these crucial locations.
Among these, the mission of Crown Prince Lancelot and his Iron Cross Knights was clear:
Break through the front lines and seize control of the Grand Duchy of Lancaster.
The domain of the empire’s foremost grand duke, known for its unparalleled fertility and abundance across the continent.
The relentless advance led by the Crown Prince and his knights showed no signs of stopping.
“Wait for me, my daughter.”
As he pulled the reins of his horse, Lancelot—also known as Sir Bardel—thought of his daughter, Charlotte Orhart, who ruled over the Grand Duchy of Lancaster.
At that very moment, the Second Prince, Galahad, riding alongside Lancelot, also halted his horse.