Chapter 71

"Ilak Belkuth died in a duel. Five of Belkuth's knights, including Bidel, died with honor while escorting the dig team during an operation. In Prince Klaus's name, we mourn their deaths...!"

The moment Hiram finished reading the letter, he crushed it and slammed it onto the center of the desk.

"Why on earth did Prince Klaus appear in Kelt Holy See! And no one reported it along the way!"

His face even more twisted than the crumpled letter on the desk, Hiram shouted at the messenger kneeling and trembling before him.

I ordered them to report every single move of the imperial heirs without fail-and this disgrace is what I get!

"K-Kelt Holy See is more isolated than Alfraia. A careless attempt at contact risks exposure...!"

"So you sent five Belkuth knights to their deaths because you feared that risk! I did that!"

Kuaaaaaah-!

Belkuth mansion's underground dungeon.

The messenger charged with relaying reports could not withstand Hiram's mana as it poured out in fury; he coughed up blood.

"He's stopped breathing."

"Damn it!"

Those fools think a frontier posting is exile. The thought that five knights had been lost because of their complacency made Hiram's fists tremble.

"Yan Verkut. I never thought a nameless knight of the frontier would provoke Belkuth this far...!"

With this, Belkuth had lost five knights, and Lorenz had gained a knight allied with the Holy See.

With the Empire split between the Imperial and Belkuth factions, the intervention of a third party-Lorenz-made this outcome far too dangerous.

"I should not have sent Cain Lorenz to the frontier. This makes the Silver Knight look like a lesser threat..."

His heart burned hot, but his head stayed cold.

Quieting his seething rage, Hiram hurriedly began drafting a list of knights to deploy to the Kerdan front.

Twenty had entered the main house this quarter alone.

Backed by the name of Belkuth and its full support, their battlefield presence grew ever larger.

"The only saving grace is that the loss isn't yet significant. The enemy has grown stronger, but they are still far from surpassing Belkuth's fame."

Muttering to himself, Count Belkuth gazed at the map spread across his desk.

As he looked with satisfaction at the blue knight figurines scattered across the country, a knock sounded and his steward appeared.

"My lord. A letter has arrived."

"Hm? I thought you handled all correspondence."

Bowing deeply to the puzzled Hiram, the steward presented the letter.

"...Ha, would you look at this?"

The back of the letter he now held.

Recognizing whose seal was stamped there, Count Belkuth bared his white teeth in a smile.

"Claude Lorenz. The old serpent plans to rear a dragon."

"What do you mean...?"

Hearing the current Duke of Lorenz named, the steward looked puzzled; Hiram smiled and showed him the invitation.

"It is an invitation. Sent by Claude Lorenz himself, along with a condolence letter in the name of the current Duke of Lorenz."

"...My lord. What do you mean?"

A condolence letter on an invitation meant a funeral. Yet the sender was not his son Cain Lorenz, but the deceased himself.

He would hold his own funeral and invite people in his own name?

Even to the head of the rising-nobles faction, the Belkuth counts, who stood in the enemy camp?

"My lord. This is..."

"A provocation. And at the same time, a declaration by the Duke of Lorenz."

Having said that, Hiram rose with a hardened expression.

"Chief steward. Prepare mourning attire. With the utmost courtesy."

"Yes, my lord. Then for an escort..."

"No. No escort is needed."

Interrupting the steward, Lorenz grinned and looked out the window.

"If the new Duke of Lorenz is stepping into the world, I cannot hide behind subordinates, can I?"

Hiram's gaze settled on the place he murmured of.

There stood the Lorenz mansion, glowing red and alone.

***

"Huaaah-!"

The return from Kelt Holy See to Kerdan frontline base took less than a day.

Having traveled to and from Kelt so many times, the Greyhounds could navigate between Holy See and frontline base without a map.

Three days after Yaan and Klaus arrived at Kerdan frontline base.

Clear spirited yells rang through the Greyhounds barracks.

"Step one pace closer. If you clumsily measure distance at your level, your opponent will close in at once. You'll collapse in an instant."

"Hah-!"

"Good. Two more rounds, then rest. Manage your stamina. If you drop, you're dead."

"Yes!"

Training continued until corrected, feedback brutal as violence. For a girl in her late teens it was a murderous schedule, yet neither Yaan who taught nor Irene who endured voiced a single complaint.

Clang-!

With a clear sword flash Irene's blade soared skyward.

"I-I'm sorry!"

"Hm? What for?"

Seeing Irene bow the moment she dropped her sword, Yaan asked in puzzlement.

"I was taught that dropping one's sword in battle is a knight's shame. Yet I still..."

Looking at her sword stuck in the ground, Irene hung her head in embarrassment.

"So what if you drop your sword? You think a duel ends there?"

"...Pardon?"

Seeing Irene's bewilderment, Yaan spoke as if it were nothing.

"Pick up your sword and come again. Last round-don't spare your stamina, give it everything."

Eyes shining, Irene rushed at Yaan as he readied his blade.

"Hup!"

Clang!

Meeting Irene's frontal strike, Yaan rolled his eyes a few times as if gauging her strength...

Shing!

"Wha-!?"

In an instant he released his sword and closed the gap.

While her nerves focused on the clash, the unexpected move broke Irene's stance.

Thwack!

"Ugh-!?"

Simultaneously, the blow drew a groan from Irene.

Her mana-reinforced body lurched, breath ragged.

'To this extent...!'

Yet Irene, forcing herself steady, swung at Yaan again-yet...

"There. You're dead."

In Yaan's other hand was already a dagger leveled at her throat.

"Wh-when did you...!?"

"The moment you looked away, claiming you wouldn't drop your sword."

"...!"

Yaan's words struck Irene like a blow to the back of the head.

"Well, the Commander said knights who've really learned the sword don't fall for that tactic, but these days hardly anyone does it."

As he relaxed his stance and patted Irene's shoulder, the tension drained from her and she slumped to the ground.

"If dropping your sword looks like a winning move, drop it. Clinging stubbornly gets you killed."

Follow form, yet don't be buried by it.

Crude though the advice was, coming from one who had survived real battlefields rather than duels, it carried the weight of experience.

"Oh, are you done?"

"The drills are getting longer. At this rate we'll catch up too, won't we?"

Greyhounds who had finished their training greeted Yaan with a few joking words.

"About ten percent of you might have caught up. Get yourselves ready for the next mission. Or die."

"Haha, got it."

After saying that, Yaan muttered dryly to Irene, who was watching the soldiers stroll away.

"And Irene. As of today, you're a full commander. I've ordered your formal uniform, so go change into it."

"Pardon? Ah, yes, sir!"

Snapping back to her senses at Yaan's remark, Irene soon rose from her spot and returned to her quarters.

'A full commander! Finally!'

Yaan, who had been watching the spot where Irene disappeared for a moment, soon rubbed the right arm that had struck her abdomen.

"Ha, a counter in that short time-real knights really are something else."

Everyone says it.

That the commander of the Penal Corps was appointed out of fellow-suffering sympathy.

Yaan didn't deny it; until now it had actually been a good spur for Irene.

But Yaan was someone who never took in people based on sympathy alone.

He had seen talent in Irene, and that was why he had brought her to his side.

"Company commander. His Highness is calling for you."

"Right. I'll be right there."

Answering Dandel's voice from afar, Yaan headed for the office where Prince Klaus was waiting.

"S-Sir Knight, you have come!"

"You have come!"

Now that Bidel and the knights under his command were gone, Yaan and Glaepnir were the only knights left on the Kerdan front.

No one in the base dared to offend Yaan's mood.

"Ah, you came?"

"Yes. I'm here."

Prince Klaus looked at Yaan, who offered a brief greeting in reply to the equally brief welcome, and slowly shook his head with a short sigh.

"You truly are, every time I see you, an astonishingly irreverent fellow."

"All I ever learned from my direct superior was this."

"Ha, that friend Cain really has no manners."

Prince Klaus chuckled as he spoke, then held out a single letter to Yaan.

"...What is this?"

"An invitation. Or more precisely, a condolence letter?"

"Who in the world would send something like that to someone like me?"

Saying that, Yaan made a reluctant expression. Funerals were none of his concern, so what could be the intent behind sending him an invitation?

Thinking thus, he turned the card over-and in that instant his face twisted even more strangely than before.

"Who else? Your direct superior, Sir Cain Lorenz."

"...."

"No, to be precise, Duke Lorenz, your father? Holding his own funeral-there's no better farce. Isn't that right, Lieutenant Yaan?"

Even as he spoke, Klaus's smile never left his face.

"Understood. Then arrange a carriage...."

"This fellow thinks I'm what, everything's already been arranged. Here, go quickly with the people listed on this roster."

In Klaus's hand lay a document bearing the names of Dandel, Ren, and Irene.

"Will Your Highness not attend?"

Smiling at Yaan's question, the prince looked toward the barracks of the 87th Independent Company outside the window and spoke.

"I've placed a special order with the wandering dwarf tribes. By the time you finish and return, everything on this side should be ready."

After saying that, Prince Klaus flashed a grin at Yaan and added,

"Off you go. It's the day the new Duke of Lorenz first appears before the world."