Chapter 45: King

Kinalo, once called the City of Mages.

Night had fallen, but street lamps made of glowing stones lit up the city brightly in every corner.

“Hurry, hurry, move it!”

“Y-yes, sir!”

Citizens carried military supplies under the harsh commands of soldiers.

Normally, this would have been the time for them to return home and rest, but tonight, everyone was out on the streets, dripping with sweat.

They had been forcibly conscripted as part of the military supply unit for the subjugation of Kushan.

Slaaap!

“Get your head straight!”

“Kyaa! I-I’m sorry!”

At the slightest mistake, slaps and the stomp of army boots rained down, and the citizens trembled as they continued their grueling labor.

Thus, Kinalo City was in a frantic bustle.

But in the lord’s bedchamber, overlooking it all, there was only silence and peace.

“Hm~ hm~”

Haarun, the Storm King, lay with his head resting on the lap of his lover and knight, Brida, humming a tune.

By the window, where the moonlight shone brightly.

Brida, the silver-haired warrior, slowly stroked Haarun’s very light golden hair.

Even though Haarun had reached the peak of a Swordmaster at the age of thirty-nine, his face was still youthful, and he smiled with the innocence of a boy.

“Brida, Brida. You know, after I conquer Norberju, the next is Shomerdeur (the west of Roberland). I’ll seize Shamalun, where that Uncle Jafar is, and then, with that momentum, I’ll take control of all Shomerdeur.”

Haarun’s light green eyes sparkled like stars.

Whenever Brida looked into those eyes, she always remembered the Milky Way she had gazed up at from the alleyways of her childhood.

Endlessly distant, endlessly pounding with wonder…

“Do you like it that much?”

“Of course I do! Being blocked above and below, trapped all this time… ha, I wanted to die every day.”

Haarun rolled around with his head on Brida’s lap, pinching his own thigh.

“Look, look at this, look at the fat on my thigh.”

Brida laughed.

“That can’t be.”

There wasn’t a trace of flab there.

Only firm, chiseled muscles like carved stone.

As he plucked grapes from a bunch beside him and popped them into his mouth, Haarun gazed up at the night sky beyond the window.

“To be honest. I feel like kissing that brat Ransen on the forehead. It’s all thanks to him, isn’t it? That the road has opened up before me like this. But why doesn’t he understand my heart…?”

“You wanted to welcome him as one of the Seven Champions, right?”

“That’s right. The Seven Champions. Once Ransen joins.”

The Seven Champions referred to the seven strongest warriors under Haarun’s command.

“Then wouldn’t it become the Eight Champions?”

“No, no, that wouldn’t sound right. I’d have to kick one out. Seven Champions—that’s just the perfect ring.”

“Don’t tell me… you’re going to kick me out?”

“Hm? Hahaha!”

Haarun only laughed without answering.

Brida knew. That laugh was his way of saying yes.

Even so…

She liked it. Because it just meant she had to work harder.

Brida softly gazed at Haarun’s smiling face.

As if to say that was enough.

As if to say she was happy.

“So after I conquer all the way to Shomerdeur… where should I go next? Should I advance into central Roberland? Blancetir? Soleil?”

“Wherever you go. I will follow.”

“Good. Ah… but still, I want the last stop to be there.”

“Where?”

“The Empire. I want to gallop across Imperial lands with all my might!”

Haarun laughed innocently as he looked toward the dark fields beyond.

He was a cavalry commander born and bred.

A hedonist who found joy in charging through paths carved between countless obstacles.

“I will become king. Not the hollow titles of the Five Kings of Roberland or whatever. The true king of Gloryland. I’ll rule over lands so vast that no matter how far I ride, they never end.”

Haarun looked into the distance beyond the fields, and Brida looked at his face as he did.

Though he lay with his head on her lap, so close,

their eyes never met.

*         *         *

I, Knight Burson, remembered a conversation I once had with Ransen when he was young.

What was a king?

Truth be told, even I, Burson, wasn’t well-versed in the art of kingship, but I still thought I had to teach him.

Ransen was the only royal blood left in Banroa. He was someone born with the destiny of a king.

But Ransen was always negative.

“What’s a king, you ask?”

Back then, a bitter sneer appeared on his face.

“Uncle Burson. Look at our situation right now. This isn’t the time for us to be worrying about others, is it? The people, freedom… we don’t have the luxury to think about that right now.”

That answer made me so very sad.

Because it was all too true.

Even so, I stubbornly said,

using the proper honorific for him for the first time in a long while.

“Even so, Your Highness. In the end, you will become a great king.”

*         *         *

At last, the day had come.

I gathered everyone in one place.

Seah stood up, reporting with an unusually stern expression.

“The Storm King has marched out. We’ll have to set out ourselves today or tomorrow.”

Yes. The expedition.

Was it because we had prepared so hard for this?

A fitting tension wrapped around everyone present.

My younger siblings, Rivera, Kalserik, Uncle Burson.

I looked each one of them in the eye and made my vow.

“Let’s win.”

Let’s win, and seize a better future together.

“So that no one will ever again order us around. So that we’ll never again have to endure things we hate.”

My younger siblings nodded.

On the other hand, Kalserik, who didn’t know much about our past, raised his hand and asked casually.

“What exactly are those ‘things you hate’?”

What was it?

It wasn’t anything grand.

Truly.

“Just this. I hated seeing kids cry. But I liked seeing kids laugh.”

That was all.

At the very least, in the land I ruled,

I wanted children to laugh more and cry less.

Well, it might sound like a deflating goal, but it was the truth.

I had just said it casually, but—

“Well… that’s not a bad goal.”

Kalserik nodded with a satisfied look,

“As expected….”

Rivera gave me a meaningful smile and raised his thumb at me,

“Ransen….”

Uncle Burson’s pleased face was brimming with tears.

That expression was exactly like he was saying,

‘Didn’t I tell you so? Didn’t I say Your Highness would become a great king…?’

Which felt terribly uncomfortable.

That wasn’t it at all.

It was just because we too had suffered when we were young….

After wrapping up the meeting roughly, I looked out past the terrace window.

In the great square before the Lord’s Keep, citizens were lined up.

Every one of them holding some kind of goods they had brought out.

“There’s a huge crowd again today.”

Seah, beside me, responded.

“Yeah. They’re begging us to win. Well, our taxes are way cheaper than the Storm King’s after all.”

The very first thing we did after seizing Kashu City was tax reform.

Overall, we lowered taxes for the poor and streamlined tax administration.

As a result, the tax burden on the lower classes, which had reached 40%, had dropped drastically to 10%.

That was why.

Why citizens were pouring in every single day to donate military supplies of their own free will.

It was kind of…

embarrassing.

‘…We just had a lot of money from the ruins, so we did it.’

It wasn’t anything that impressive.

We had merely reformed the tax system in the style of the Banroa Kingdom instead of Roberland’s, but I hadn’t attached any great meaning to it.

It was just a goodwill measure, since we had the money to spare.

But even so, seeing them gather like this for us every day,

somehow…

I felt thankful.

And strangely, it tickled at my heart.

*         *         *

Two days later,

in the borderlands between Kashu City and Kinalo City.

At a place known as the Hills of Tempests, our army and the Storm King’s finally faced each other.

Low, gentle hills stretched on here and there, with wide plains spread between them.

We confronted each other across that plain, keeping our distance.

Since it was the borderlands, everything was gray.

Against such a landscape, the armies with their colorful banners raised stood out all the more.

Amidst the mounting tension, Haarun stepped forward and shouted.

“Hey! Ransen! Are you there?!”

As if he were calling out to an old friend.

“I’m here.”

When I willingly stepped forward, the man waved his hand wildly at me.

“It’s good to see you like this! Wow! Handsome! Why in the world did you reject my proposal?!”

“Because a dragon can’t crawl beneath a dog?”

“What? Hahahaha!”

The Storm King, who had been laughing uproariously, swung his spear wildly through the air.

“I’ll take the heads of half! Exactly half of those who follow you. Then we’ll see. Which one of us is truly the dragon.”

‘….’

I knew it was an obvious provocation, but I still burned with rage.

What?

Take their heads?

Whose heads do you dare—

“Haarun.”

“Speak!”

“How about we fight one-on-one right now? I don’t care about the necks of your followers. The only neck I care about is yours.”

“Anytime! But not now. After I take the lives of half your men, then I’ll gladly face you one-on-one!”

Crack.

There he goes again.

Half of my men? What did he just say?

In this world,

There are things one must never touch—a reverse scale.

And that bastard had already touched mine twice.

“Go ahead, try.”

“Good!”

Still grinning in that infuriating way, Haarun raised his hand.

“Cavalry!”

“Ha!”

The Storm Cavalry roared so thunderously it shook the entire hill country.

“Charge!”

Thoom!

Haarun’s cavalry slammed their palms once against their breastplates and surged forward all at once.

A full charge of 3,500 cavalry.

The sheer force of that tide made the whole field quiver dizzyingly.

But—

“Heavy infantry!”

“Ha!”

I had 5,000 heavy infantry.

Just like when we faced Deer-Ox last time, the elite warriors formed a wall of shields, while the regular soldiers raised their long spears like the quills of a hedgehog.

The difference from the demonic beast subjugation was that now both the elite warriors and the Experts were armed with ancient armaments, and I had dissolved the Quick-Kill Squad and Demon-Slaying Squad, scattering the Experts into each unit.

The soldiers’ eyes held some tension, but no fear.

They had already stopped Deer-Ox’s horde charges many times before.

“Rear ranks! Ready javelins! Archers! Ready to fire!”

“Ha!”

Toward the storm of cavalry surging like a wave, the rear warriors lifted their javelins, and the archers drew their bowstrings taut with all their might.

“Hu…”

With one long exhale, I cast away all hesitation.

I could not falter. Now I had to focus solely on the battle. Only on the thought of taking Haarun’s head. Only then… would everyone be safe.

Now, I had no choice but to trust my younger siblings.

*         *         *

“Hey! Little brother of Ransen! Don’t you die on me.”

Hearing Kalserik’s voice from behind, Zaltran laughed.

“Isn’t that rich, coming from the man who couldn’t break my shield even once during training?”

“…Yeah. But you’ve got to do better than back then. Otherwise, you’ll die. For real.”

“I’ll show you properly this time.”

Dududududu!

The Storm Cavalry thundered into view.

At the vanguard rode 500 heavy cavalry.

Behind them, 3,000 spear cavalry surged forward.

The tide of men and horses surged, shaking the entire field of vision.

Zaltran Juan gripped the ancient shield he had received from his hyung, Ransen, as if wringing it.

A hero’s shield—one that had defended a city against countless monsters in the distant past.

Just like its old master,

just like his brother had…!

'I will block it. I will withstand it!'

To Zaltran, Ransen had always been a hero.

No matter how strong the enemy,

no matter how many there were,

as long as his younger siblings stood behind him, his brother never stepped back.

For their sake, he had slain Blood Count Delkash, and even after his limbs had been ruined, he never let go of his sword.

'Now it’s my turn…! I too, like my brother…!'

He had trained as if to die.

Just to follow even at the tips of Ransen’s toes.

And today, at last.

He would become the shield for him.

The pride of the Count House of Juan was to protect.

'To save even one more life. My brother’s… and our soldiers’ lives!'

Blue flames burned in Zaltran’s eyes as he fixed his gaze forward.

Swaeeeek!

From behind, the archers loosed their Black Bows.

Shadows of black arrows poured down, blanketing the Storm Cavalry.

As thousands of arrows fell at once, men toppled from their horses everywhere.

But among them, there were warriors who did not falter in the slightest, as if arrows meant nothing to them.

'He’s coming!'

A towering figure in full steel armor that covered his body, easily deflecting the rain of black arrows.

'Barkan the Irresistible!'

A Swordmaster.

The closer he came, the more terrifying aura erupted from his body.

Even as his cheeks trembled under that pressure, Zaltran raised his shield even firmer.

'Just a little more. Just a little longer.'

“Javelins!!”

Thudd-d-d-d!

After the rain of arrows came the hail of javelins.

The same battle doctrine they had used against Deer-Ox.

Even the Storm Cavalry faltered for a moment beneath the barrage of thrown weapons.

But Barkan was different.

True to his epithet of Irresistible, he not only failed to slow—he sped up instead.

Even arrows loosed by Rivera, a Peak Expert, simply bounced off his armor.

His massive crescent blade pierced the sky. A Sword Aura storm roared forth.

Kwoooaaarh—!

Barkan closed in right before Zaltran’s eyes.

The storm whipped through his brown hair.

'Ready!'

Zaltran burst forth with aura at full strength.

Woooong!

Together with the warriors on either side, he wove their auras together.

Aura could be imbued into a sword, and also into a shield.

And with sufficient training, it could even flow between person and person.

In that way, the aura grew even stronger.

“Hold!”

Kalserik’s voice shouted from behind.

“I will!”

Barkan was a Swordmaster. Zaltran himself was no more than a High-grade Expert.

And yet, despite the vast gulf between them—

Zaltran resolved to endure. To withstand, no matter what.

That was the oath he had sworn to himself.

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