The dry earth and bare branches crunched beneath the horses' hooves. Armed with spears, shields, and swords, the soldiers crossed the empty plains, step by step, with faces as impassive as plaster dolls.
The number of private soldiers led by Krald was much greater than anyone had expected. Some nobles who had mobilized private soldiers for the Duke of Laetian found out later that Queen Gilsis had been preparing to help Krald in his rebellion for quite some time.
Those who had been staying in the Grand Duchy in a state of confusion since the Duke’s disappearance had joined Krald’s rebellion without any plan, but when they saw the amount of weapons and provisions prepared, they swallowed their greedy hopes. It was a hope that Krald succeeded in plotting to become the Crown Prince.
“Your Highness, are you okay?”
The adjutant who had been closely watching Krald throughout the entire trip carefully observed his complexion. Although he was still able to hold on to the reins, Krald had been breathing heavily for hours. Sometimes he would shudder his shoulders, hesitate, or clench his teeth, but his demeanor was not normal.
"Your Highness."
“Don’t talk nonsense.”
A spit-like response came back. The adjutant slowly stepped back. Krald's condition was clearly not normal, but he had no intention of provoking him, who was on edge. It was natural since he was not someone he could be loyal to to the point of risking his life.
Krald, whose hands were trembling as he held the reins, took out a gold shield from a leather pouch hanging at his waist. It was the same shield that Saragan always carried.
He took out a long, dried stick-like thing from inside the shell, put it in the water spout, and lit the tip. A heavy, bluish smoke that didn’t disperse properly floated through the air. The shaking in his hands began to stop little by little, but his focus became blurry. Krald turned his head toward the forest that stretched out in the distance.
"My uncle sent me a reply. If you go to the capital, the warriors of the alliance will follow you with wolves and tigers. What is there to fear if you join forces with them?"
Krald smirked with a frown as he chewed on Saragan’s words that were lingering in his head. The private soldiers that are here now are just baited anyway.
He had no regrets if they all died. He was counting on the large army that the Hibs of the Alliance would send.
The private soldiers raised by the nobles of Rotair are cowards who would run away if the battle situation turned unfavorable. However, the warriors of the Alliance would be different. They would fight to the last man, even if they coveted Rotair's territory.
So what happens after that?
The obvious question that came to mind was shaken off by Krald, like sand. He had promised to make Saragan the Queen. He never thought that such an offer would be too much for King Hibs. After all, he was the royalty of a country with a long history, and they were not just wanderers in the plains until recently without even a proper country.
Krald was making the same mistake that Iland had made many times in the past. He thought that the King and the Alliance should feel inferior and in awe of him and Rotair.
In fact, look. King Hibs sent Saragan along with precious treasures as soon as Krald became the Grand Duke of the South. And Saragan was also very devoted to him. It was a world apart from the day he went out to war when he had not even seen Libencia. She gave him a kiss to wish him victory in a polite and considerate manner.
At first, he had said that he would consider taking her as his official wife to please King Hibs, but now Krald would not even think about taking any other woman as his Queen other than Saragan.
He had lost interest in Libencia Montfort a long time ago. If only she had known her place and remained quiet, he would have given her a formal position in the government this time, at least out of respect for old times. Krald shook his head from side to side, which was not very well-mannered, and clicked his tongue.
“You idiot. You don’t even know your place... You took away the wealth and honor with your own hands, so who can you blame?”
The adjutant riding beside him turned his head to listen to Krald's soliloquy.
“Your Highness, what did you just say?”
“It’s nothing.”
Krald swayed his body back and forth as if he were drunk. He saw the soldier ahead waving a flag. At the signal that the border of the capital was just around the corner, everyone except Krald tightened their reins and tensed up. However, Krald narrowed his eyes as if he didn't see any signal and looked away somewhere.
“What do you see?”
“That.”
His finger pointed into the air. Turning his head, the adjutant could see a black spire rising ominously above the dense forest. The tower, the closest to the capital, had long ago served as a fortress during the height of war. But now it was used for nothing other than to imprison the most terrible criminals.
“Are you talking about the tower?”
“Yes, that tower... There’s only a door for prisoners to enter, and no door for them to come out. Even though it’s that high up, the sunlight doesn’t come in properly, so they say that if you’re locked up there for a few months, you’ll go blind like a mole.”
“Ah... Yes. I heard about it when I was young. But... In reality, there hasn’t been a single case of prisoners being locked up there in the past few decades.”
“It will happen soon.”
Krald's gaze became fierce. Even the adjutant who had no choice but to follow him now had an expression that made his heart shiver. Krald continued, gritting his teeth.
“First of all, Duke Vergy... I will kill him and all the detestable nobles of the Privy Council and throw them into that tower. I will pile their corpses in a prison where no light can reach.”
“...”
“The Crown Prince and the Crown Princess cannot do that. I will not even do that to them. I will destroy them more horribly. I will make them cry while tearing out their nonexistent throats, leaving only their souls behind, so that they will never be at peace even after death. I, this very me, will do that! Do you understand?”
Krald, who let out a thunderous roar, suddenly drew his sword. The bewildered officers stopped talking and opened their mouths. The soldiers who followed also readied their weapons and tensed up, not understanding the situation.
Krald chewed his trembling lips and turned his horse's head. He looked at the dark-faced soldiers. Raising his sword above his head, Krald stretched his arm out proudly toward the capital's gate, which looked like a dot in the distance.
“Behold, the capital of Rotair, our destination lies before us. I have not come today to mourn the death of my father. I have come to spit and sprinkle blood on the coffin of the pitiful, idiotic King Jedercayer!”
A cold silence descended. Anxiety and blame, and yet the desire to pretend not to know it all, swelled as if they were going to burst at any moment. Krald swung his arms and shouted again.
“If we occupy the palace, the Allied warriors will arrive soon. By then, no matter how much the local nobles who heard the news belatedly struggle, they will not be able to save the Prince. I will offer a reward. Kill at least one more. The one who has the most blood will be given the title of public servant and enough wealth to live comfortably for the rest of his life.”
He knew that asking for noble loyalty to the country or the crown would not work for the conscripted soldiers. Instead, he realized that the most tangible, tangible reward would be the one that would boost their morale.
Krald's prediction turned out to be a good one. The soldiers, each of whom was unsure about the battle, braced themselves for the golden vision that loomed before their eyes.
“When we reach the gates of the capital, the gatekeepers will welcome us. We have received the solemn orders from my mother, the Queen, so do not worry about anything and just proceed. If anything offends you, feel free to cut it down. No matter what it is.”
The wind seemed to be making the forest thump. The ground shook with the cold and snow that came in succession.
The Corne Hall, where King Jedercayer's funeral was held, was quiet. No one spoke or made a fuss except for the occasional sob, unable to control their emotions.
The funeral procession continued from the morning. The King, lying on the stage in the hall, in a sturdy coffin, surrounded by flowers, looked very peaceful. Although he was wearing a crown and formal attire, his face, with his eyes closed, looked more peaceful than ever.
Franz sat at the head of the table and nodded to the nobles who had come to offer condolences. Judith was not visible, but the nobles of the Privy Council, including the Duke of Vergy, and the captains and soldiers of the First and Third Orders of Combler were guarding the entire hall. They were all wearing black cloaks, making the atmosphere even more solemn and dreary.
“Your Majesty, please.”
The King's chamberlain, who wore a ceremonial robe on his left arm, announced the arrival of Queen Gilsis in a heavy voice. The Queen's face, dressed in a black dress without any patterns or decorations, looked very haggard. Her wrinkled features were very pale, with no trace of makeup.
She stood up and walked straight to the King's coffin without even looking at Franz, who was bowing. The nobles who were waiting for their turn to mourn each other cautiously left their seats, each glancing at the Queen. They all seemed puzzled as to why she, who should have been at the head of the table with Franz from the beginning, had only appeared now.
“...”
Queen Gilsis, with her back straight, looked down at the King lying in the coffin with an attitude that seemed almost arrogant. However, her raised chin trembled inconspicuously, and her lips twisted involuntarily. Her cold fingertips, which touched the flower petals that protected the sleeping King from his feet to his head, were also shaking.
It was then. The hand of the Queen, which seemed to be stroking the air without being able to touch the King’s body, suddenly stopped. Her face, which had been shaking with an indescribable light just a moment ago, was covered in a cold venom. The Queen, who looked around with an angry face, reached out her hand toward the King’s chest. Because it happened so suddenly, no one could step forward to stop it.
“Your Majesty!”
The first to rise was Franz. He ran down the high platform in two steps and grabbed the Queen's skinny wrist with a fierce grip. In her grip was the locket that had been taken from the King's neck.
The number of private soldiers led by Krald was much greater than anyone had expected. Some nobles who had mobilized private soldiers for the Duke of Laetian found out later that Queen Gilsis had been preparing to help Krald in his rebellion for quite some time.
Those who had been staying in the Grand Duchy in a state of confusion since the Duke’s disappearance had joined Krald’s rebellion without any plan, but when they saw the amount of weapons and provisions prepared, they swallowed their greedy hopes. It was a hope that Krald succeeded in plotting to become the Crown Prince.
“Your Highness, are you okay?”
The adjutant who had been closely watching Krald throughout the entire trip carefully observed his complexion. Although he was still able to hold on to the reins, Krald had been breathing heavily for hours. Sometimes he would shudder his shoulders, hesitate, or clench his teeth, but his demeanor was not normal.
"Your Highness."
“Don’t talk nonsense.”
A spit-like response came back. The adjutant slowly stepped back. Krald's condition was clearly not normal, but he had no intention of provoking him, who was on edge. It was natural since he was not someone he could be loyal to to the point of risking his life.
Krald, whose hands were trembling as he held the reins, took out a gold shield from a leather pouch hanging at his waist. It was the same shield that Saragan always carried.
He took out a long, dried stick-like thing from inside the shell, put it in the water spout, and lit the tip. A heavy, bluish smoke that didn’t disperse properly floated through the air. The shaking in his hands began to stop little by little, but his focus became blurry. Krald turned his head toward the forest that stretched out in the distance.
"My uncle sent me a reply. If you go to the capital, the warriors of the alliance will follow you with wolves and tigers. What is there to fear if you join forces with them?"
Krald smirked with a frown as he chewed on Saragan’s words that were lingering in his head. The private soldiers that are here now are just baited anyway.
He had no regrets if they all died. He was counting on the large army that the Hibs of the Alliance would send.
The private soldiers raised by the nobles of Rotair are cowards who would run away if the battle situation turned unfavorable. However, the warriors of the Alliance would be different. They would fight to the last man, even if they coveted Rotair's territory.
So what happens after that?
The obvious question that came to mind was shaken off by Krald, like sand. He had promised to make Saragan the Queen. He never thought that such an offer would be too much for King Hibs. After all, he was the royalty of a country with a long history, and they were not just wanderers in the plains until recently without even a proper country.
Krald was making the same mistake that Iland had made many times in the past. He thought that the King and the Alliance should feel inferior and in awe of him and Rotair.
In fact, look. King Hibs sent Saragan along with precious treasures as soon as Krald became the Grand Duke of the South. And Saragan was also very devoted to him. It was a world apart from the day he went out to war when he had not even seen Libencia. She gave him a kiss to wish him victory in a polite and considerate manner.
At first, he had said that he would consider taking her as his official wife to please King Hibs, but now Krald would not even think about taking any other woman as his Queen other than Saragan.
He had lost interest in Libencia Montfort a long time ago. If only she had known her place and remained quiet, he would have given her a formal position in the government this time, at least out of respect for old times. Krald shook his head from side to side, which was not very well-mannered, and clicked his tongue.
“You idiot. You don’t even know your place... You took away the wealth and honor with your own hands, so who can you blame?”
The adjutant riding beside him turned his head to listen to Krald's soliloquy.
“Your Highness, what did you just say?”
“It’s nothing.”
Krald swayed his body back and forth as if he were drunk. He saw the soldier ahead waving a flag. At the signal that the border of the capital was just around the corner, everyone except Krald tightened their reins and tensed up. However, Krald narrowed his eyes as if he didn't see any signal and looked away somewhere.
“What do you see?”
“That.”
His finger pointed into the air. Turning his head, the adjutant could see a black spire rising ominously above the dense forest. The tower, the closest to the capital, had long ago served as a fortress during the height of war. But now it was used for nothing other than to imprison the most terrible criminals.
“Are you talking about the tower?”
“Yes, that tower... There’s only a door for prisoners to enter, and no door for them to come out. Even though it’s that high up, the sunlight doesn’t come in properly, so they say that if you’re locked up there for a few months, you’ll go blind like a mole.”
“Ah... Yes. I heard about it when I was young. But... In reality, there hasn’t been a single case of prisoners being locked up there in the past few decades.”
“It will happen soon.”
Krald's gaze became fierce. Even the adjutant who had no choice but to follow him now had an expression that made his heart shiver. Krald continued, gritting his teeth.
“First of all, Duke Vergy... I will kill him and all the detestable nobles of the Privy Council and throw them into that tower. I will pile their corpses in a prison where no light can reach.”
“...”
“The Crown Prince and the Crown Princess cannot do that. I will not even do that to them. I will destroy them more horribly. I will make them cry while tearing out their nonexistent throats, leaving only their souls behind, so that they will never be at peace even after death. I, this very me, will do that! Do you understand?”
Krald, who let out a thunderous roar, suddenly drew his sword. The bewildered officers stopped talking and opened their mouths. The soldiers who followed also readied their weapons and tensed up, not understanding the situation.
Krald chewed his trembling lips and turned his horse's head. He looked at the dark-faced soldiers. Raising his sword above his head, Krald stretched his arm out proudly toward the capital's gate, which looked like a dot in the distance.
“Behold, the capital of Rotair, our destination lies before us. I have not come today to mourn the death of my father. I have come to spit and sprinkle blood on the coffin of the pitiful, idiotic King Jedercayer!”
A cold silence descended. Anxiety and blame, and yet the desire to pretend not to know it all, swelled as if they were going to burst at any moment. Krald swung his arms and shouted again.
“If we occupy the palace, the Allied warriors will arrive soon. By then, no matter how much the local nobles who heard the news belatedly struggle, they will not be able to save the Prince. I will offer a reward. Kill at least one more. The one who has the most blood will be given the title of public servant and enough wealth to live comfortably for the rest of his life.”
He knew that asking for noble loyalty to the country or the crown would not work for the conscripted soldiers. Instead, he realized that the most tangible, tangible reward would be the one that would boost their morale.
Krald's prediction turned out to be a good one. The soldiers, each of whom was unsure about the battle, braced themselves for the golden vision that loomed before their eyes.
“When we reach the gates of the capital, the gatekeepers will welcome us. We have received the solemn orders from my mother, the Queen, so do not worry about anything and just proceed. If anything offends you, feel free to cut it down. No matter what it is.”
The wind seemed to be making the forest thump. The ground shook with the cold and snow that came in succession.
***
The Corne Hall, where King Jedercayer's funeral was held, was quiet. No one spoke or made a fuss except for the occasional sob, unable to control their emotions.
The funeral procession continued from the morning. The King, lying on the stage in the hall, in a sturdy coffin, surrounded by flowers, looked very peaceful. Although he was wearing a crown and formal attire, his face, with his eyes closed, looked more peaceful than ever.
Franz sat at the head of the table and nodded to the nobles who had come to offer condolences. Judith was not visible, but the nobles of the Privy Council, including the Duke of Vergy, and the captains and soldiers of the First and Third Orders of Combler were guarding the entire hall. They were all wearing black cloaks, making the atmosphere even more solemn and dreary.
“Your Majesty, please.”
The King's chamberlain, who wore a ceremonial robe on his left arm, announced the arrival of Queen Gilsis in a heavy voice. The Queen's face, dressed in a black dress without any patterns or decorations, looked very haggard. Her wrinkled features were very pale, with no trace of makeup.
She stood up and walked straight to the King's coffin without even looking at Franz, who was bowing. The nobles who were waiting for their turn to mourn each other cautiously left their seats, each glancing at the Queen. They all seemed puzzled as to why she, who should have been at the head of the table with Franz from the beginning, had only appeared now.
“...”
Queen Gilsis, with her back straight, looked down at the King lying in the coffin with an attitude that seemed almost arrogant. However, her raised chin trembled inconspicuously, and her lips twisted involuntarily. Her cold fingertips, which touched the flower petals that protected the sleeping King from his feet to his head, were also shaking.
It was then. The hand of the Queen, which seemed to be stroking the air without being able to touch the King’s body, suddenly stopped. Her face, which had been shaking with an indescribable light just a moment ago, was covered in a cold venom. The Queen, who looked around with an angry face, reached out her hand toward the King’s chest. Because it happened so suddenly, no one could step forward to stop it.
“Your Majesty!”
The first to rise was Franz. He ran down the high platform in two steps and grabbed the Queen's skinny wrist with a fierce grip. In her grip was the locket that had been taken from the King's neck.
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