Episode 40
“Wilhelm of Geol! Presenting thirty knights, one hundred heavy infantry, and four hundred foot soldiers to the Duke!”
“Joseph of Videl! Presenting thirty knights, fifty heavy infantry, fifty light cavalry, and three hundred foot soldiers to the Black Duke!”
“Kenneth of Bilderberg! Presenting one Aura Knight, thirty knights, and one hundred heavy infantry…”
In the grand hall of the Saxon Ducal Castle, the northern lords were reporting the forces they had brought with them.
Each pledged their loyalty to the great lord seated on the throne—the Black Duke.
The northern nobility had gathered for the Duke of Saxony, the foremost of the northern lords and one of the three great dukes.
“Furthermore, my eldest son, Beth of the Geol family, is determined to fight for Your Grace in this battle…”
“As my father said, we, the Geol family, are ready to lay down our lives for Your Grace!”
A nobleman, presumably the father, spoke up, and a young man in armor knelt, planting his sword into the ground. It was a familiar plea, a request to look favorably upon one’s son.
“Our second son, Yones of the Kenneth family, has also bravely assembled a mercenary band of one hundred to join the fight…”
And it wasn’t just the Count of Geol looking to gain favor. The Duke of Saxony responded calmly.
“I am always grateful for your loyalty.”
Battles don’t start overnight. Before the impending conflict, the lords gathered at the castle, and the soldiers stayed in their camps, organizing their units. Meanwhile, the great lord had to rally his subordinates and secure the allegiance of his faction.
The socializing and networking among the nobles were also essential rituals. Deciding which faction to align with and which nobles to impress was crucial. In this regard, there was no question about whom the northern nobles and their sons should align themselves with.
“We humbly greet the Black Prince!”
“Prince Dale! We’ve heard much about your exploits in the Black and White Battle!”
“I am Beth, the eldest son of the Geol family! I wish to fight alongside you, Prince, and witness your valor!”
“Politics is always like this.”
As people began to praise Dale’s reputation, he offered a suitable smile.
“You all seem very reliable.”
A smile befitting an eleven-year-old.
“Oh my, Prince Dale!”
“You’re even more impressive and gallant than people say!”
“I never imagined you’d be such a fine and handsome young man!”
“You’re so brave and manly for your age!”
Even the young noble ladies, no older than fourteen or fifteen, were vying for his attention.
“With a battle approaching, have you come here yourself, my lady?”
Dale asked, and the young ladies eagerly replied.
“It’s our duty to support the men so that our fathers and brothers can focus on the battle.”
A wise and clear answer. The daughters of noble families were also striving to fulfill their duties.
“I see.”
Dale nodded nonchalantly. Watching the endless stream of people approaching him, he couldn’t help but smile wryly. It was truly exhausting.
“Prince Dale.”
At that moment, a voice with weight broke through the flattery.
“I’ve heard that even at your young age, you possess martial skills that rival those of grown knights.”
Dale looked up at the voice.
A man clad in slightly tarnished black armor, with a sword at his waist. He seemed barely over twenty, with a hint of youth still lingering, marking him as a noble’s son.
“Y-Yones! You insolent fool!”
At the same time, a man, presumably his father, rushed over, unable to hide his embarrassment.
“How dare you speak so rudely to the Prince!”
But Dale waved it off, unperturbed. At his gesture, the man’s father quickly fell silent.
“You are Sir Yones, the second son of the Kenneth family, correct?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
Sir Yones knelt, observing the knight’s etiquette. The commotion subsided, and all eyes turned to them.
“Do you have something to say to me?”
“The Empire’s greatest genius…”
Sir Yones began.
“I’ve heard that the young prince of the Saxon family possesses unparalleled talent in both swordsmanship and magic.”
Swordsmanship and magic.
“At your age, you led the Black and White Battle to a great victory and turned the battlefield into a sea of blood with the knights of St. Magdalena.”
“It was thanks to the swords of the Saxon family.”
“I’ve heard that even after a week of crows pecking, the enemy’s corpses didn’t diminish.”
“Is there something else you wish to say?”
At Dale’s question, Sir Yones nodded.
“Would you honor me with a few lessons from your sword?”
A murmur spread through the hall. It was practically a challenge to duel the eldest son of the Saxon family. In a way, it was an attempt to reveal the truth behind the tales of Dale’s exploits.
It was not an action a mere minor noble’s son should take against the heir of a great lord.
“You insolent fool!”
“How dare you be so rude to the Prince!”
“Duke, this young fool is speaking nonsense beyond his station!”
“Let’s drag him out of the castle immediately!”
Fingers pointed accusingly at Sir Yones from all directions, yet his expression remained unchanged.
“Interesting.”
Dale spoke with feigned interest, and the uproar ceased.
“Sir Yones of the Kenneth family. I hear you lead a mercenary band of one hundred.”
“As a knight-errant, I formed the band from scratch.”
“A mercenary band, you say.”
As the second son of a baron, inheriting land would be difficult due to the laws of primogeniture. Thus, he was taking a gamble to prove himself.
To have formed a mercenary band of one hundred as a knight-errant without backing was no small feat.
“He might be quite useful.”
Above all, Dale admired his audacity.
“Very well.”
Having made his decision, Dale nodded.
“I accept your challenge.”
Under the supervision of his father, the Duke of Saxony, an impromptu duel between Dale and Sir Yones was arranged.
Right here, in the grand hall of the Saxon Ducal Castle.
The Duke of Saxony watched from his throne with an impassive expression, observing the two young men.
The lords and their sons present were those who would fight under his and his son’s command. Demonstrating Dale’s prowess before them was something the Black Duke had no reason to refuse. In fact, it was an excellent opportunity to establish a clear hierarchy.
This was possible because, as a father, he was confident in Dale’s victory.
Despite everything, it was undeniable that Dale was still very young. Therefore, it was necessary to show the northern lords the reality of his abilities.
To prove that the “Black Prince’s” ruthlessness and infamy were not mere rumors.
Srrng.
Sir Yones drew his knight’s sword. Seeing this, Dale spoke.
“You are aware that my sword is not an ordinary one, correct?”
In the still air, his black surcoat fluttered.
“I’ve heard of the ‘Shadow Sword’ you wield, Prince.”
A blade that could be controlled at will, moving without being touched—a dark blade. Strictly speaking, it was a sword that bordered on the unorthodox for a knight, but Dale was a mage at heart.
“Use your aura.”
”…!”
At Dale’s words, a flicker of surprise crossed Sir Yones’s face. He knew the significance of using aura in a duel.
“This is an order.”
Dale replied coldly. Once a decision was made, there was no turning back. It was as if he were saying that.
“Understood.”
Aura began to circulate through Sir Yones’s body. He was not yet a knight capable of wielding an aura blade.
“Yet his control is remarkably precise.”
Assessing his condition with a cool head, Dale spoke.
“Give it your all.”
Simultaneously, the shadow at his feet took form, rising and orbiting around him like a blade.
“So that’s the Black Prince’s sword…”
The shadowy blade.
Seeing the eerie and ominous swords, Sir Yones swallowed hard. He then adjusted his grip on his sword.
Yones of Kenneth.
At sixteen, he had roamed the continent as a knight-errant, making a name for himself. Starting from nothing, he had become the leader of a mercenary band of one hundred. By the time he was twenty, he could wield aura despite not having received formal training.
With his resolve set, Sir Yones launched himself forward.
“I refuse to lose to a spoiled child who was born with everything.”
Born as the second son of a minor noble family, he had nothing and had climbed this far relying solely on his sword.
In contrast, the eldest son of the foremost northern lord, the Saxon family, flaunted his “talent” as if it were a given!
The thought was so infuriating he couldn’t stand it.
He wanted to prove that those who had nothing could defeat those who had everything. He refused to kneel before the world’s injustices and inequities.
Clang!
Sir Yones swung his sword with precision, the clash of blades ringing out in the air. Each time he deflected the onslaught of dark blades swirling around him, an unsettling feeling began to fill his chest.
The “Black Prince” watched him with an emotionless gaze, effortlessly manipulating the shadowy blades that emerged from the darkness at his feet.
Their swords clashed, retreated, surged forward, and clashed again, in an endless cycle. After dozens of exchanges, Sir Yones finally began to understand.
“A-ah…”
From the start, the “Black Prince” hadn’t even acknowledged Sir Yones’ presence. His true target was not Yones, but the northern lord and his heirs who were watching the duel. It was all to prove his name before them, with Sir Yones merely chosen as the sacrificial pawn.
A pawn in a game of hierarchy.
The Black Prince overwhelmed him as if toying with a child, flaunting his prowess.
“This can’t be happening…”
An eleven-year-old boy, showing such composure against a knight skilled in the use of aura? It was nothing short of a public execution, a humiliation.
“I can’t let this continue…!”
Driven by desperation, Sir Yones swung his sword with renewed vigor, aiming to strike down his opponent with lethal intent.
Clang!
The blades met once more.
Clang! Clang!
But it wasn’t the sound of swords clashing. It was the hollow sound of striking an insurmountable wall. A wall so vast and towering, it was impossible to even look up at it. A wall of lamentation stood before him.
The battle had devolved into a one-sided struggle, with Sir Yones flailing in vain.
It was then he realized.
The Black Prince’s unparalleled talent wasn’t due to being born into a powerful family or receiving superior education. He was the embodiment of absurdity itself.
A symbol of the world’s inherent unfairness, his overwhelming talent was undeniable.
Realizing this, Sir Yones could only let out a hollow laugh. Continuing the fight was meaningless. The gap between them was not just overwhelming; it was despairing.
“My…”
The strength left his hand, and the sword hilt slipped from his grasp.
“I concede.”
At that moment, the shadowy blades orbiting around Dale came to a halt.
“My victory, then,” Dale declared.
“Is this all you have?”
Faced with Dale’s question, Sir Yones found himself unable to respond.
”…”
Silence fell, long and heavy.