Chapter 35: Wounds

After spending a quiet, exhausting night in which sleep was hard to come by, we welcomed yet another morning. Before this, we had already won enough glory for our lives, but that alone was not enough. What we needed was to survive this battle and live to celebrate the final victory.

Cooking smoke rose, and soldiers on both sides began their breakfast. None of them were certain they could live to see the next meal. Perhaps not long after they swallowed their last bite, they would forever lose the ability to taste delicious food, just like the corpses scattered across the ground. But this did not hurt their appetites. Soldiers who had been through battles knew well that those who ate one more bite often lived longer than those who ate one bite less.

Amid this peaceful clamor before battle, an officer wearing fine full-body armor led a squad of imposing guards to the foot of the city wall.

“I am Duke Rivera, commander of the central column of the Winston Army’s southern expedition. I request an audience with the commander of your city’s defenders.” From a position one arrow’s flight away from the wall came his aged yet steady voice.

Accompanied by me and Red Flame, Fred walked out of the city gate and came before Duke Rivera. Our noble and respectable opponent was not wearing a helmet, which gave me the good fortune to see him in full. He was around fifty years old, strongly built, with a dignified and respectable face, and he kept at his lips the beautiful curled mustache that nobles commonly wore. He should have looked much younger than he did now, but the many white hairs scattered across his head more or less added to his age.

“I never expected that the commander who set up such solid defenses and, with outstanding bravery, led a group of scattered soldiers to hold off our full-force assault on the city for an entire day would be so young.” Duke Rivera expressed his respect for his opponent with a solemn expression, and I did not doubt his sincerity in the least. Without a doubt, he was an honest gentleman with an open and magnanimous heart. From his words, I could deeply feel his respect.

“I am Viscount Frederick Ka Guderian, lord of Kampnavia. Seeing your army’s performance, I now understand why your army can gallop across our lands without fear.” Fred answered courteously, but his words were still filled with hostility.

“I am flattered by your praise. To be honest, I did not expect to encounter such stubborn resistance beneath the walls of Kampnavia. The formidable fighting spirit and combat power your army has shown have left a deep impression on me. I have come here now only hoping to bring peace to your city.”

“What a joke. The one who started the war wants peace.” I could not help muttering. Although it was a mutter, my voice was loud enough for everyone present to hear clearly.

The guard behind Duke Rivera could not hold back and shouted angrily: “Who do you think you are? What right do you have to speak here?!”

Fred’s face darkened. “Wherever I have the right to speak, my friend has the right to speak as well! What he said is exactly what I mean!”

Duke Rivera waved his hand to stop his guard’s impulsiveness and said calmly: “I cannot hide the fact that I am the one who started this war, just as you cannot deny that your city’s defenses are depleted. You probably do not even have fifteen hundred healthy soldiers with fighting ability left in your hands. Although I have suffered heavy losses, I still have at least seven thousand soldiers. If I attack the city with all my strength, you will still end up the losing side. In order to reduce unnecessary casualties, I hope you can rationally lead your army to leave. We guarantee that we will protect the lives and honor of you and your men, attest that you put up a brutal and extraordinary resistance, and ensure the safety of the civilians in the city.” To be honest, his offer was very tempting. The terms were so good that one could hardly refuse. We all knew in our hearts that although yesterday’s fierce battle had caused them tremendous losses, it was far from enough to close the numerical gap between us and them. Under such circumstances, holding the city was almost impossible. Leaving at this time would be good for them, for us, and even for all the citizens of the city—I did not doubt in the least that this officer before me would keep his promise to ensure the civilians’ safety. His honesty truly made one feel warmly toward him.

“Military honor? Your General Kaplan has already shown us plenty of his honor.” Fred answered with a cold smile.

“Please do not compare that rude scum to me. We are true soldiers, not executioners who slaughter civilians. Kaplan is now missing while pursuing the enemy. I promise that once he is found, he will receive severe punishment.” Duke Rivera’s tone carried a hint of righteous indignation.

“You need not go to that trouble. I have already punished him well on behalf of your army—with a very appropriate punishment.” Fred kept sneering. “Pursuing a fleeing enemy? Since when is a cargo ship full of war orphans a fleeing enemy? Saying something like that is truly an insult to military honor.” Indeed, Kaplan had already received the punishment he deserved in hell, but calling the Golden Rose a “cargo ship”—that was a blatant lie told with eyes wide open, and it did not seem to have much to do with “military honor” either.

“This…” Duke Rivera was momentarily at a loss for words.

“As for your offer, I will consider it. Wait a moment.” With that, Fred turned and walked toward the city tower. Suddenly, he put on the arrogant, crude expression of a rough old soldier, looked up, and shouted: “All soldiers, listen up! That old man over there is the general of Winston. He’s a remarkable fellow. He’s a Duke, a Duke, you hear me?”

Hearing this, the soldiers on the wall shouted and swarmed onto the battlement, summoning the same energy they used for collecting pay, rushing to dinner, and chasing after celebrities to “admire” Duke Rivera below the city. Duke Rivera had not expected Fred to “consider” his offer in such a manner. Suddenly subjected to the stares of soldiers from the entire city, his face turned bright red, and for a moment he did not know how to react.

“His Grace the Duke told me that you all did a fine job yesterday and gave him a good kick in the ass. He can’t take it anymore. Now he wants us to retreat and surrender while he still has some soldiers left alive. What do you say?”

“No way!” A thunderous reply came from atop the wall, mixed with crude whistles.

“We’ll surrender only when they’re all dead, sir!” Someone’s answer drew roars of laughter.

“His Grace the Duke says that if we surrender, he will protect our military honor. Tell him, what are we fighting for?!”

“For the glory of our loved ones!” The echo familiar to the Winston came from atop the wall. Yesterday, amid such shouts, their most elite and proud Heavy Infantry units had suffered an unprecedented defeat.

“His Grace the Duke says that if we do not surrender, he will attack with all his strength and kill us all. What is your answer?”

“Leave the enemy’s corpses behind—only the dead shall pass through here!” This was the voice that had chilled the hearts of the last group of Winston soldiers who attacked last night. Last night, the defenders on the wall had shouted this war cry and fiercely blocked their assault like men possessed.

“Your Grace the Duke,” Fred turned his head and flashed a bright smile. “I myself am very timid. In truth, I really want to run away, or surrender to your army. But my soldiers do not seem to agree.”

The Duke, who had been greatly insulted, almost choked on his own spit. He suppressed his fury, maintained an extremely solemn attitude, and said in a voice trembling with rage: “Then I can only regretfully watch many brave soldiers lose their lives because of Your Lordship’s arrogance. I hope Your Lordship has good luck in today’s battle.”

“Take care on your way, Your Grace. May Vesta, the God of War, walk with you and bring glorious victories to your future campaigns—but it will definitely not be today.”

Watching Duke Rivera’s retreating back, he made it halfway before he could no longer hold in the raging fury in his heart. He drew his sword and, with a loud shout, chopped a wooden post on the dock into two pieces.

Before long, the consequences of Fred’s rudeness showed themselves. Soldiers numbering nearly twice as many as yesterday charged across the dock avenue and launched a fierce assault on the city. Rows of Winston archers advanced step by step, shooting arrows at the top of the wall. Because of the distance and the difference in height, their arrows were not much of a threat. Instead, they were knocked over and thrown into disarray by the rain of arrows shot down from our wall.

The overwhelming number of attackers brought considerable trouble to our soldiers. The almost endless flood of maddened humanity instantly covered the entire wall. The soldiers, whose morale Fred had roused early in the morning, poured out their courage upon the enemy and dealt the surging masses a stinging head-on blow. They were worthy of the oaths they had sworn. One enemy after another fell at their feet, piling up high even against the crenellations. But even so, they could not completely stop the savage charge of the enemy, who held an absolute numerical advantage. Chaos kept breaking out in different places along the wall. Winston soldiers who climbed up stepped on the corpses of their own companions and leaped among the defenders, using their superior martial skill and stronger physiques to inflict casualties on us. If not for Riley, who repeatedly smothered danger in its cradle with his outstanding judgment, the wall would probably have been broken by now.

“Aren’t you sending in your reserves?” Red Flame could not help asking Fred.

“Wait a little longer. It’s not time yet.” Fred swung “Ink Shadow” again and again as he charged into the enemy ranks, reaping the lives of one enemy after another before him.

I stayed close at my friend’s side, doing my utmost to protect his flank. My abilities were limited. I had neither an outstanding mind nor an unyielding will, nor the ability to command troops or the keen instinct to seize victory. On this battlefield, all I could do was protect my friend, protect the young commander of us all, and reduce the dangers he had to face.

My protection could not bring Fred more safety. He always appeared on the most dangerous and intense parts of the battlefield, displaying his courage before countless enemies. Although he was a warrior with superb combat skills, on this chaotic and crowded wall, even the bravest warrior could not kill enemies without suffering wounds himself. I clearly saw sharp blades slice across his body, drawing out the red liquid from within him. But after each time, his opponent received a fatal wound in exchange—a throat cut open or a chest pierced through.

Our soldiers had already become completely familiar with the figure of their young new leader. He was the symbol of their courage and the mark of their resolve. His fearless figure and extraordinary skill dispelled the shadow of battle and scattered the light of hope into every heart.

Finally, our enemy wavered. The soldiers who had been beaten back retreated and crowded together with their reinforcements, inevitably creating chaos. Duke Rivera paid the price for his impulsive anger. The number of soldiers he had sent in this round of attack far exceeded the maximum capacity of the dock avenue. The troops piled up on the road, unable to advance or retreat. The bewildered soldiers shoved one another on the congested road, collapsing their own originally orderly formation. A huge numerical advantage did not always bring victory in battle. On this kind of terrain, the Winston tasted the bitterness of having too many men, unable to advance or retreat.

At this moment, facing more than five times as many enemies, we opened the city gates. Charging out at the very front were Fred, along with Carlson and Red Flame, who also had mounts. Behind them was the reserve force he had kept hidden away since the very beginning of the battle. This force of fewer than three hundred men was made up of Kelsey’s rogues and two hundred strong, sturdy soldiers led by Dakla, armed with war hammers and great axes.

This was the most powerful force among us. Led by the young stonemason, the soldiers carrying devastatingly heavy weapons charged into the already chaotic enemy formation. The large crowd of Winston soldiers who had lost their formation had no fighting spirit before these fresh troops who had rested for almost an entire day. The soldiers in the front ranks retreated in despair but were blocked by the soldiers in the back ranks. The soldiers in the middle, though they had not lost their courage to fight, simply could not reach the enemy and could only sway back and forth, squeezed among their own men.

If Rodrick’s force was a standard longsword, Roll’s raiding party was a dangerous dagger, and Riley’s city defense troops were an unbreakable shield, then Dakla’s force was a heavy war axe. The soldiers, unburdened by excessive armor, brought out the maximum power of their heavy weapons. Every strike was accompanied by the sound of bones snapping. If one simply compared attacking power, Dakla’s force had even surpassed the Winston Heavy Infantry. Dakla had long since discarded his two-handed sword and replaced it with a heavy long-handled war hammer. The light armor and short weapons of the attacking troops simply could not stop the weapon of the young stonemason as it flew back and forth. Every full-power swing represented the end of a life. What followed the swinging of the war hammer was not only blood but also white sticky matter.

I did not join this assault force. I had enough self-awareness to know my place. On the narrow road, every soldier needed to bring out his maximum usefulness, and I, who only knew how to use a short sword, could never inflict the kind of damage they did. Likewise, I strongly tried to talk Fred out of going. He had not closed his eyes for nearly two full days. If anything happened to him, the blow to us would be incalculable. But he refused.

“Dakla, do not push in too deep.” His command carried up to the city tower. On the wall, apart from the archers who were still holding their posts, creating chaos and suppressing the enemy, everyone else had taken advantage of this rare moment of leisure to catch their breath and rest. If another attack like this came right now, we would be finished. And the purpose of that group of heavy infantry below the city was to delay the next attack for as long as possible—a little longer, and then a little longer still.

“Red Flame, push the soldiers on their left flank back in. Do not let them out.” Even in the midst of battle, Fred was still closely watching the situation of the Winston. Although they were in chaos now, once someone came to their senses—not many, just thirty or fifty would be enough—and organized an effective defensive formation, then soon the two hundred-plus men below the city would no longer be able to stop the enemy’s counterattack. When that happened, not only would their entire force be wiped out, it was even possible the enemy would seize the city gate in one stroke.

“Carlson, let them in. Do not pursue.” Carlson, who had just forced a group of Winston soldiers trying to break up our formation back into their own ranks, shuddered all over when he heard these words, but he still followed Fred’s instruction and let that group of Winston soldiers go back. The Winston soldiers fleeing backward caused even greater chaos in their own ranks, proving Fred’s command correct. But my heart stirred involuntarily: after all, Fred had slipped up as well.

For a very long time, we had almost grown accustomed to following Fred’s commands, and he had indeed successfully led us out of one predicament after another. For us, obeying Fred was almost a matter of course. He was born to be a leader. Our young friend had a mind and insight that we could never hope to match. Almost everything about him was so perfect that peers like us could not even feel jealousy—only obedience. But we had all overlooked Carlson. Although Fred possessed a leadership charisma and ability that Carlson lacked, whether in public or in private matters, Carlson was still our officer and teacher. He was the one who had saved our lives and taught us all the skills of the battlefield, allowing us to protect ourselves amidst the chaotic disasters of war. For him, Fred was a contradictory existence: was this his best soldier, his most capable assistant—or had this young subordinate already become his new officer, gaining the right to give him orders?

Fred, who had grown up in a somewhat reclusive environment, might not understand this kind of feeling. This was not something that could be explained by rational logic. Those comrades who were equally simple and honest might not have noticed this problem either, but I knew that Carlson had also sensed it and had fallen into such a contradiction. This was perhaps a kind of sharp perception unique to me—a perception of people cultivated through long immersion in taverns.

“Perhaps I should remind Fred about this.” My mind was already no longer on the battlefield.

While I was distracted, Dakla and his men had already inflicted enough casualties on the Winston Army, throwing their footing almost completely into disarray, and they returned to the city victorious.

With the city gates closed, the victorious warriors who returned shouted with joy. A few burly men stripped their upper bodies completely bare and slapped their chests hard to express their excitement—three hundred men, launching a frontal attack against nearly four thousand enemies, slaying countless foes, yet suffering fewer than thirty casualties. They had every reason to be excited.

I rushed down from the wall to congratulate my friend. When I stood beside his warhorse, he looked at me with a weary face, leaned down, and instructed me:

“Take the horse to a quiet place.”

His voice was extremely weak, which startled me. I did my best not to disturb the surrounding soldiers and led their commander’s warhorse to a secluded corner at the bottom of the city wall.

“Thud!” Fred could no longer hold on and tumbled off the horse…