The Fallen Knight (1)
The battle was over.
As the head of the enemy commander was raised high, the gnoll army began to retreat in unison.
Arrows and stones rained down on their backs as they fled towards the rift.
The gnoll forces, which had suffered nearly two thousand casualties in the skirmish, only managed to retreat after sacrificing another two thousand during their escape.
A defensive battle where a thousand soldiers defeated five thousand gnolls in a single night.
It was a flawless victory, yet the atmosphere inside the fortress was far from celebratory.
Thud!
A body, torn to shreds, was roughly placed into a coffin.
The paladin, who had already moved over ten of his comrades’ bodies, looked as if he was on the verge of tears.
A knight in priestly robes closed the coffin lid, and after a brief moment of silence, the coffin was loaded onto a cart.
Creak.
The cart, precariously loaded with more than ten coffins, groaned under the weight.
The bodies were so mangled that they couldn’t be properly separated from their armor. It was a small mercy if the limbs and torso were intact; many had lost arms, legs, or heads, or were so devoured that no remains could be found.
Clatter. Clatter.
The cart, reaching its load limit, set off for the main camp for the funeral.
The survivors, with somber expressions, soon dispersed.
There was no time to mourn the dead. With the threat of another monster attack looming, the fortress needed to be repaired as quickly as possible.
“…”
Dalen, sitting by the window and watching the scene below, felt a bitter taste spreading in his mouth.
He rinsed his mouth with the wine on the table. Looking up, he saw that everyone in the meeting room wore similar expressions.
“In this battle, we lost three hundred and fourteen paladins and twenty-seven knights,” Mauger, seated at the head of the table, spoke in a heavy tone.
“We’ve sent a request for reinforcements to the main camp. Troops and supplies should arrive in a few days. May the departed receive the grace of the gods in the afterlife.”
Murmurs of “May they receive grace” filled the room, followed by sighs.
Mauger paused before continuing.
“Nevertheless, the mission to eliminate Everlock and retrieve the barrier key must proceed.”
“I have an objection.”
A female knight with a sharp voice raised her hand.
“Inquisitor Fidna, please speak.”
“As you all know, the gnoll army that attacked us last night came from within the rift.”
The atmosphere shifted subtly.
Where there had been an air of lament and melancholy, now there was the seasoned resolve of veterans facing reality.
“And there’s no way a gnoll force of that size could bypass the first line of defense, the Estra Fortress.”
“Inquisitor Fidna, are you suggesting…?”
“Yes, that’s correct. The Estra Fortress, our initial destination, has fallen into enemy hands.”
Her declaration brought a moment of silence to the meeting room.
It wasn’t a baseless claim. In fact, it echoed the thoughts of everyone present.
No one here had failed to consider the fall of Estra Fortress upon seeing the advancing gnoll army.
“The original mission plan was to use Estra Fortress as a base, maintaining a steady supply line and conducting short-term searches every few days. But with our intended base destroyed, and this second line of defense too far from the search area, we have a problem.”
Fidna laid out the situation calmly, her tone almost cynical.
Yet her words were undeniably true, and Mauger, the leader of the group, showed increasing signs of conflict.
“You speak like a secular commander, not a knight, Inquisitor Fidna.”
An older knight with a stern face raised his hand and spoke.
“Last night’s battle was the fiercest we’ve seen in nearly a decade. Yet, not a single one of us on this mission was lost. This is a sign from the gods to continue our mission.”
“Or perhaps it’s to preserve our strength for future battles, Deputy Inquisitor Domer.”
Fidna countered immediately.
“Let’s reflect on last night’s battle. Without us, this fortress would have fallen in less than an hour.”
Again, she was right.
The garrison here, even with a hundred knights, numbered less than a thousand.
In contrast, the enemy warriors, each slightly imbued with the power of a true dragon, were at least half again as strong as usual.
Had the high-ranking knights and inquisitors not bolstered the morale of the defenders with their battle prayers, the walls would have been overrun in the blink of an eye.
Even with Dalen cutting through the enemy lines to slay their leader, and the two mages providing relentless magical support from the rear, the outcome would have been unchanged.
No matter how valiantly Dalen and the mage-priest Valentino fought, the moment the walls fell, the battle was lost.
“Moreover, there’s no guarantee that last night’s gnoll army was the end of their offensive. With such a large-scale attack, the Blue Scales likely have several more monster armies ready to strike from deep within the rift.”
Fidna paused to catch her breath before continuing.
“In this situation, for us to charge ahead and carry out the mission is suicidal. As you all know, until we cross the Estra River, there’s nowhere to hide or escape from an army of ten thousand.”
Her gaze swept the room, seeking agreement.
No one openly agreed, but neither could anyone refute her words.
Even Deputy Inquisitor Domer, who had previously reprimanded her, merely leaned back in his chair with a troubled sigh.
“…Then, as discussed before the mission, we will decide this matter by vote.”
Finally, Mauger, his face now weary, spoke up.
“If you believe continuing the mission is the will of the gods, please raise your hand.”
The armored warhorse snorted and pawed the ground. After a day of preparation, the group departed the second line of defense at dawn.
The path they took was downhill, not uphill.
This meant that the decision to continue the mission had been made during yesterday’s meeting.
Clatter. Clatter.
Their load had increased several times over.
Not only were their horses burdened with supplies, but they also had two carts in tow.
This slowed their pace, but it was unavoidable.
With the fall of Estra Fortress a foregone conclusion, the fortress they had just left was the last place they could receive proper supplies.
After several hours of traveling deeper into the rift, Mauger approached Dalen, who was chewing on jerky.
“Thank you, Sir Dalen.”
The middle-aged knight spoke quietly. Dalen shrugged as he swallowed the jerky with a swig of water.
“Without your support, the mission couldn’t have continued.”
“Then I would have gone alone. I told you.”
Mauger’s expression turned curious, as if questioning whether Dalen had truly meant those words.
Dalen chuckled and looked up.
It was nearing noon. The sun peeked over the cliffs of the rift.
The sunlight was blinding. Dalen squinted slightly, recalling the meeting from the previous day.
The vote on the mission’s direction had taken place around this time.
In the tense silence of the meeting room, Dalen had been the first to raise his hand.
And he had said:
“Let me make it clear. Even if no one else goes, I will.”
His words, delivered with a casual air, took a moment for the others to comprehend.
“Why would you do that?” Fidna, who had been advocating for halting the mission, had snapped at him.
“I’m just a mercenary hired for this task. If the mission is canceled, I’m free to go wherever I please.”
“If you enter the rift now, you won’t be able to avoid a battle with the monster army. If you wish for a pointless death, return the holy sword, the treasure of the knight order, before you go.”
Fidna’s sharp retort filled the room with a sense of unease.
Even though she was an elite inquisitor, her words had clearly crossed a line with Dalen, the wielder of the holy sword.
Yet Dalen, unfazed, met her gaze with indifferent eyes.
“A battle that can’t be avoided. Can we avoid it if we turn back?”
“At least we could fight with proper preparation.”
“And give the monsters ample time to prepare as well. Since when did the knight order start accepting cowards who flee from demons and monsters?”
A low chuckle. An inquisitor rising in anger.
Mauger had struggled to mediate the suddenly tense atmosphere in the meeting room.
And in the ensuing vote, most of the knights had raised their hands in favor of continuing the mission.
It was unclear whether the decision was made out of respect for the warrior chosen by the holy sword or due to some strategic calculation of their own.
Perhaps they truly discerned the will of the gods, or maybe it was just a knee-jerk reaction to the provocation of some foreign warrior.
“Well, it turned out well in the end, so it doesn’t really matter.”
With even the two mages and the rest of the paladins casting their votes in favor, Inquisitor Fidna had no choice but to reluctantly raise his hand in agreement.
Thus, with this somewhat ambiguous consensus, the mission was set to continue, and the group was now advancing deeper into the rift.
“I thought Inquisitor Fidna would opt out, but surprisingly, he’s coming along.”
In fact, just before they set out, Maug had announced once more that anyone who wished to turn back could do so.
Each member of the group was a high-ranking asset of the order, and logically speaking, this mission was practically a suicide mission.
Yet, seeing that no one chose to leave, it seemed that honor was indeed of great importance to the paladins.
“By the way, it seems to be taking some time to stabilize.”
Maug spoke up again, his gaze fixed on Dalen’s left hand.
The back of the hand was covered with large and small scars, and a faintly glowing holy tattoo.
Once fully stabilized, a holy tattoo should blend with the skin and remain invisible under normal circumstances.
However, unlike the other two tattoos on his shoulder, the one on the back of his hand was taking quite some time to stabilize.
“Well, it’s not a tattoo commonly inscribed even among paladins. The conditions are strict, and using it is quite challenging.”
“You can tell just by looking?”
“Of course. While the power to inscribe holy tattoos is granted to only a select few, many high-ranking paladins like myself are involved in researching new tattoos and refining old ones.”
Maug continued with a proud expression.
“The tattoo on your hand, Sir Dalen, is a catalyst for performing miracles, isn’t it?”