RPOF 9

Chapter 9

An army without a commander is like a ship without a captain.

That means it is very dangerous.

“So we ran like crazy for four days to get here…”

And this is how we are treated?

Blocking the exhausted Berwen Knights was not the enemy, but our own allies—the Count of Hessen’s territory.

“This is ridiculous. We came to help.”

To avoid making the local people nervous, I and the Berwen knights wore robes.

A group of robed knights turned their horses away from the wall.

“What did they say?”

“Well…”

One knight hesitated, then spoke.

“They say we must pay a toll.”

“Did you say you were knights?”

“…Yes.”

“And that we came as support to help them?”

“…Yes.”

Ha. Are they crazy?

I wanted to just give up and leave.

But the people living here did nothing wrong, so I rode closer to the wall.

“I told you already! You can’t pass if you don’t pay the toll!”

“How much?”

“One thousand gallons!”

One thousand gallons was a full year of living costs for a normal family!

“I could pay it myself, but…”

This was basically saying, don’t pass.

“Who made this rule?”

“Our count did!”

“The Count of Hessen?”

When I said that, the soldier swung the spear in his hands.

“So this place is rotten too.”

Just by how he held the spear, I could tell—he was not a knight. Just a soldier wearing knight armor.

“A count? You want to die? Is the count your friend?”

“Not a friend, but—”

In a blink, the sword hidden in my robe touched the soldier’s neck.

I didn’t want to use force.

“But it works best.”

There was no time to explain everything.

“You could say… he is my superior.”

“What?”

“This man is His Grace, the Duke of Berwen.”

The knight beside me quietly warned him.

“That’s impossible!”

Even with a sword at his neck, he didn’t believe it, so I let a faint aura flow from my blade.

Aura is the sign of a Sword Master.

When he saw the light around the sword, the soldier dropped to his knees.

“I—I’m sorry! There are many people pretending to be knights these days! I was just following the count’s orders—”

“Fine. I understand. Now open the gate.”

If the top is rotten, the bottom will be too.

Too tired to talk, I waved my hand.

The disciplined soldier opened the gate.

“…Did they sell the gate?”

I was speechless.

A gate that should need four men to open was opened by one man alone.

The gate was thin. Just for show.

“The gate…”

The Berwen knights exchanged looks.

I lowered my voice.

Five years of acting practice were not wasted.

“This is wartime. Do you not know what is important?”

A serious, heavy voice came out.

The meaning was clear—this would be dealt with after the war.

“Yes.”

Luckily, the knights agreed.

As we crossed the count’s land, I felt something was wrong.

The closer we got to the border with Bahat, the more refugees we saw.

I felt sorry for the people, but…

“It feels like we are losing.”

Why are bad feelings always right?

As soon as we reached the border fortress—

“Your Grace, you’re here!”

Knights who had arrived earlier explained the situation.

“…That many injured?”

I clenched my sword as I watched the wounded and medics moving around.

The battlefield was filled with the air of defeat.

“Why?”

“The Count of Hessen forced civilians to fight.”

“Aren’t those regular soldiers out there?”

“He disbanded the army to save money.”

Ha. I was going insane.

“Then the force that can fight now is basically—”

“Only us.”

So all the suffering outside was done by the Berwen Knights.

“This isn’t support. This is carrying everything alone!”

Why does this remind me of group projects in college?

“Open the gate.”

When I approached in a black robe, the soldiers of Hessen didn’t know what to do.

“Now.”

Again, I lowered my voice and pointed my sword.

Same reason as before.

No time!

“Y-Yes!”

As the gate opened, I thought:

So this is why crazy tyrants live like that.

Life is easier this way.

The border gate still needed four soldiers and pulleys.

As it opened, the smell of the battlefield grew stronger.

Burning smoke. The smell of blood.

I still can’t get used to it.

As soldiers struggled to lower the drawbridge—

Neigh!

My black horse reacted to the blood smell.

While calming the horse—

“It’s not fully down yet—”

When the drawbridge was halfway down, I kicked the horse.

The strong black horse ran up the slope and leapt forward.

For a moment, it flew—

Then landed lightly.

At the same time, my robe flew back, revealing my armor.

“Why am I entering so dramatically?”

Even I felt embarrassed.

“I’ve been trained in obsessive-tyrant acting for five years…”

Rosaline taught me not only expressions, but how to move.

Every action was trained to look impressive.

“This is embarrassing.”

Still, I drew my sword.

“Shabiyan isn’t even watching! Why am I trying so hard?!”

While shouting in my head, I rode forward gracefully.

*

Lewin didn’t know this, but Shabiyan saw everything clearly.

Just before noticing Lewin crossing the drawbridge, Shabiyan was staring down at the canyon.

Her nose was red from crying. Her wrists were tied with silk.

She looked like someone who escaped—and she had.

“Let’s just take her.”

“Your Highness!”

“She’s a prisoner anyway. Battlefield or palace, what’s the difference?”

Taken at night, wrapped in cloth, she was brought here by carriage.

She escaped when the guard was careless.

She reached a dead-end cliff.

Below, a battle raged.

Then—

The drawbridge opened, and a figure on a shining black horse burst out.

“The Duke of Berwen!”

The horse landed perfectly.

The black robe flew away, revealing solemn black armor.

“The Black Knight.”

The Black Knight. The reaper of the battlefield.

As he crossed the field, everything changed.

Leading the losing side, he released aura from his sword.

With one swing of silver light—

Arrows aimed at his allies were cut down like rain.

“…Amazing.”

Moonlight-like silver aura.

Shabiyan couldn’t look away.

She wiped her eyes again and again, trying to see clearly.

In her crystal-like eyes—

Was admiration.

*

At the same time—

Kellian lay under a tree near the battlefield.

A black panther rested its head on his hand.

He stroked it slowly.

The panther purred.

“Your Highness. You must return to the capital.”

Kellian ignored him and closed his eyes.

His red robe loosely covered his sun-tanned skin.

Even looking like a beggar, Kellian looked like a god of war.

“Aren’t you curious?”

“About what?”

“The face of the mad Emperor of Hailen.”

Kellian smiled.

“They are just old friends—”

“Friends?”

Kellian opened one eye, sharp.

“Would a friend cause chaos in another country?”

His abs moved as he spoke.

“…Truly insane.”

Then—

“Your Highness!”

A knight stopped so suddenly he almost fell off his horse.

Kneeling, he shouted.

“The Duke of Berwen has arrived! The Second Prince’s side is losing badly!”

“Is that so?”

Kellian stood and mounted the horse.

“Your Highness! You can’t go!”

“Gather the knights at the Second Prince’s camp. He must not know I’m here!”

He rode off.

He should never have come here.

This war was meant for the Second Prince to lose!

Then—

“Why are you here, brother?”

“Support.”

“Like that?”

They met.

The aide lowered his head.

No one believed Kellian.

But—

“Run while you can.”

The Second Prince was fleeing his army.

Before he could explain, Kellian had already ridden into battle.

“So that’s the Duke of Berwen.”

The battlefield was ruled by one man.

The duke cut down commanders, breaking the chain of command.

“Ha. Now I see.”

Kellian laughed.

“He cuts only the tendons.”

Not hands. Just enough to stop them holding swords.

That was harder than killing.

People said the duke was cruel.

But—

“He captures enemy leaders and leaves them crippled.”

Kellian thought it was to show power.

But now—

“He’s ending the war with fewer deaths.”

“Maybe he’s gentle.”

Kellian grew curious.

“What kind of face is under that helmet?”

“Reward whoever removes it.”

He smiled.