[Translator - Pot ]

[Proofreader - Kawaii ]

Chapter 312: I Had a Heart Like This, Too

“Royal Guard Grand Commander.”

“Speak.”

Ivan spoke to Casimir Montera, the greatest martial artist in the Kingdom of Litvaleur and the very man who had betrayed his lord.

“As you know, one of us must leave the castle.”

The reason was simple.

“Your brother, Duke Montera, is in danger of falling for the strategy laid out by the two young masters of Grunewald. Now that Allenvert’s side has succeeded in their flanking landing and has even dealt with Sir Walter’s pursuit…”

Ivan frankly shared the latest intelligence they had acquired, mixing it with clever rhetoric to push his own agenda.

“It would be better for us to strike first and aim for Allenvert’s rear. After Duke Montera’s army is annihilated, there will be no point in holding out here.”

“!”

Allenvert and Verdzig’s strategy was predicated on the assumption that the Third Prince’s faction would realize this fact too late.

Therefore, Ivan’s proposal struck a very sharp point.

“…I suppose so.”

It wasn’t difficult to convince the Grand Commander. He was a rational man.

“Should I be the one to go? Or you?”

“It would be best if you went.”

The answer was exactly what Ivan had expected.

“Why is that?”

“Because if I leave, there will be no one left to protect His Highness the Third Prince.”

“Protect him? From whom?”

Ivan asked, feigning ignorance.

Casimir did not hide his distrust.

“From the Black Society.”

“Hahaha! I thought as much.”

Ivan stood up, laughing heartily.

“In that case, I will take my men and go. Leave the matter of saving your brother to me.”

“…”

This was a form of mockery.

How could Casimir entrust the fate of his own flesh and blood, Duke Montera, to the very man he couldn't trust with the prince’s life?

Grind.

Ivan let the sound of grinding teeth pass him by with a pleasant smile.

‘My, I have a nasty streak.’

He knew this was a childish act, taking out his frustrations on others because of his own suppressed destiny.

‘You must understand, Grand Commander.’ he thought.

‘You and I are in the same boat, fighting as someone else’s sword with an invisible chain around our necks.’

His loyalty to the king was probably not a lie.

He just couldn't bear to watch the clan he was born into, his own bloodline, fall to ruin.

‘It’s always the same. People clash because of their own circumstances, and the stronger one wins.’

Ivan, too, was simply acting for his own reasons.

‘Karzan, if I intervene at the right moment, it will introduce a major variable into your strategy.’

Therefore.

‘…I will buy you as much time as I can. It would be best for you two brothers to finish this battle with lightning speed.’

Ivan planned to walk a dangerous tightrope.

The price of failure would be his own life.

***

Duke Montera’s face was haggard, and not just from the fatigue of the continuous forced march.

“The vanguard has suffered heavy losses.”

“We will be delayed, as we must detour around the river.”

“Ulbhild Grunewald, Rudgarda Angantyr, and Knut Eisenach. Those three were the enemy leaders.”

The vanguard had been broken.

Seizing that opportunity, Allenvert had positioned his forces right in the path of their advance.

“What in the world have those bastards cooped up in the royal castle been doing?”

The Duke roared in frustration.

“They couldn't block the landing, nor could they tie them down? Then what are they doing? Just sitting on their hands, waiting for us to arrive!”

The Duke’s composure was already in a precarious state.

‘…This is not good.’

Even the Duke’s retainers had never seen him like this.

Wasn’t he always the cold and dignified ruler of the North?

They all admired his martial might, his fortitude, his nobility.

They believed that while Georg Grunewald was a great man, their lord was a man of no lesser stature.

But under the repeated pressure, the Duke's once-unshakable spirit was beginning to waver.

This was why hardship was a true test of a person’s character.

Under countless hammer blows, some swords are forged, while others break.

“Your Grace, good news!”

“What is it? Speak!”

“Ivan! Ivan of the Black Society is coming as reinforcements! If he strikes Allenvert Grunewald’s rear, the tide of battle will surely turn in our favor!”

“Ooooh!”

As his retainers cheered, the Duke’s expression finally relaxed a little.

‘Ivan.’

In his memory, Ivan was a terrifyingly strong and inscrutable man.

‘Casimir.’

The Duke pictured his younger brother’s face.

‘As long as you are there, the castle will not fall easily, no matter how disadvantageous the situation.’

In that case, as always, the older brother would move with a heart that relied on the steadfastness of the younger.

“I will dispatch the engineering corps.”

The Duke’s mind finally cleared.

“We will set traps at tonight’s campsite. We will slow their advance and force a confrontation tomorrow through a forced march.”

“Your Grace, you mean to say…”

“We break the anvil before we are surrounded.”

“Ah!”

The Duke’s strategic brilliance had returned.

“…I admit it. Grunewald has produced two geniuses, so we too must face this enemy with all our strength. Do you understand?”

“We will bear it in mind!”

Duke Montera had overcome his crisis of spirit.

While this wasn't bad news for Grunewald's side, considering that Ivan's intention was a quick and decisive battle, it remained to be seen if this was truly the best choice.

**

“My lady, are you alright?”

“…I am fine.”

I sat down next to Lady Sienna, whose complexion was not good.

“I will not worry.”

Sienna said, as if trying to reassure me instead.

“Valkenhain is strong. No matter what tricks the Black Society pulls, it will not fall easily.”

She was right.

But I knew the Dark King’s power better than anyone.

“I never imagined he would use the war of succession as a decoy to retrieve the Ebony Oath.”

Though I had thwarted their plans several times, the blade of conspiracy they wielded always sent a chill down my spine.

‘Fucking tiresome bastards.’

“In any case, there is nothing we can do by worrying from afar.”

I said.

“We must trust in them and focus on winning the war against the enemy right before us.”

Like it or not, Duke Montera was the shield that protected the North.

Even if his martial talent was less than his younger brother’s, he was still a powerhouse who stood at the entrance of the 8th-tier.

‘Which is actually a remarkable feat.’

Two men from one generation surpassing the 8th-tier?

Even in the history of Grunewald, that was only possible during the generation of Leszek and Geninghen.

‘This means the Montera clan is at its absolute peak.’

The opponent was a powerhouse who easily ranked among the top five in the kingdom, and certainly among the top thirty on the entire continent.

‘But we’ll have to see if you’re as strong as my father or Ivan.’

We formed our lines and waited for the day of the decisive battle.

***

News of the attack on Valkenhain was immediately delivered to Grunewald Castle.

However, they were in no position to worry about Valkenhain.

“The grand fleet of Flanders is approaching.”

“Its scale is said to be terrifying.”

While this was news that concerned everyone, it mattered little to Georg’s second wife, Emengarde, and third wife, Bianca.

“…”

In her detached villa, now visited by no one but servants, Emengarde watched the bustling scenery outside her window.

“…”

She felt as if she no longer existed in this world, as if she were watching from afar a world that continued to turn without her.

In a way, it was no exaggeration to say she was already dead.

That was right.

Emengarde Grunewald was confined along with the sins of Bergen.

“My lady.”

A handmaiden said cautiously.

“It is time for your meal. Perhaps…”

“I have no appetite.”

“Yes, my lady. I will take my leave.”

It was the same again today.

Just as Lusatia had done in the past, Emengarde had confined herself to her villa, barely eating or drinking.

“…”

She was now repeating the very fate of the Lusatia she had once so mercilessly ridiculed.

How they must be laughing at this truth.

How satisfying her downfall must be to some people.

That thought often became her inner demon. Because.

‘…I was the same way.’

She had failed completely.

Her clan was ruined.

And yet, she had not been stripped of her position as the Duke's wife.

Her clan, too, was regrouping under Verdzig’s name, separating the guilty from the innocent.

‘But I lost my father, and I lost my brothers.’

The clan survived, but she lost her family.

She knew very well.

It all stemmed from her family's original sin, and… she herself was not entirely innocent.

“Verdzig.”

Emengarde’s dry lips moved.

“What has become of him?”

“He deliberately ceded the fortress to Duke Montera and is now pursuing the Duke's southward march, preparing to encircle him from the front and back with the Fourth Young Master.”

The handmaiden answered promptly.

She was, ironically, the very same woman who had been severely reprimanded for carrying out the task of mocking Allenvert with the mountain folk's spirit medicine after he awoke from his fever.

“…Is that so.”

Even in this situation, why did she want to hear news of the son who was as good as directly responsible for the deaths of her father and brothers?

“And Barclava?”

“He is serving diligently under Lady Ulbhild and building his military merit.”

“…He shouldn’t get hurt.”

Emengarde was surprised by the words that had slipped out unconsciously.

‘Did I have a heart like this, too?’

Only after losing everything could she truly see it: the images of her two sons, fighting hard in their respective places.

“I… was truly a terrible mother.”

Emengarde shed silent tears.

**

The elder of Valkenhain, Heinz Valkenhain. Follow current novels on novel※fire.net

He was the only 8th-tier martial artist in the clan, and the third most powerful man of his era, having lived through the age of Leszek and Geninghen.

“You bastards, did you dare to invade because you heard that this Heinz Valkenhain has grown old?”

Storming out of the council of elders, he looked out at the city as it descended into a living hell.

“…How dare you.”

The city was burning.

Flying griffins and wyverns, and the enemies riding them, were devastating their defensive lines.

Mages were beheaded, and warriors were skewered by enemies who roamed the battlefield of the sky.

The Duke of Valkenhain, the Royal Guard Grand Commander, and the Knight Grand Commander, along with the clan’s other martial artists, were holding them back, but…

‘…The enemy is too strong.’

The enemy had been inserted directly into the center of their planned defense.

Because of this, only a portion of Valkenhain’s forces could hastily block them.

In this situation, their overwhelming numerical superiority was inevitably diluted.

‘That Dark King bastard. You prepared well.’

An aerial infiltration by a special forces unit composed only of the best elites?

It was a surprise attack that would have been difficult for anyone, not just him, to predict.

‘Has the moment finally come?’

Heinz Valkenhain bowed his head.

In his hand was a small potion.

“Hey, old man. When you die of old age, all the power you’ve accumulated your whole life just vanishes into thin air, right?”

He recalled the voice of his frenemy, the great archmage Geninghen Grunewald, whose foul mouth was second to none.

“Returning to the earth in old age is the natural order of things. Why do you speak of such obvious matters?”

“Listen to you, talking so carefree. We don't know when that Dark King bastard will start another war. Shouldn’t you give your descendants one last helping hand on your way out?”

“…You don’t just want to test out the potion you made?”

“Khahaha! Two birds with one stone.”

This was Geninghen’s spirit medicine, a potion that would allow one to burn away their aged body for one last time, to regain a power close to their peak for a single moment.

‘…That detestable man.’

If he could turn back the mercilessly flowing years, and thus stop this crisis with his own hands, what was so regrettable about shortening his remaining days by a little?

‘This body should have grown old and died long ago anyway. I’ve lived long enough.’

Glorious memories flashed through the old man’s mind.

Once, it had been their era, and he had been the bastion that protected Valkenhain’s name against the two monsters of Grunewald.

‘…My friends, it seems I will be leaving first.’

As the old man drank the potion, the withered flame within his body began to blaze.

Thump! Thump!

It felt as if a dead heart was beginning to beat again.

A great ember was burning in the old master’s chest.

‘Once this fire goes out, there is no coming back.’

But that was what he wanted.

“Come, you minions of the Black Society!”

Heinz Valkenhain swung his sword.

…And in its wake, the building that stood behind the trajectory, a wyvern and its rider, and a small rocky hill were all split cleanly in two.

[Translator - Pot ]

[Proofreader - Kawaii ]