Chapter 89: The Death of a King, the Death of a Friend

Morning.

Chamela Town.

Heavy snow.

The harsh weather helped us cut off the pursuing troops. The Cretans, who knew nothing of wind and snow, lost our trail in the piercing north wind and allowed us to return safely to the starting point of this attack.

We hoped that Colonel Pekra’s messenger would already be waiting for us in the town, to tell us his current situation and the state of the Eastern war zone. No matter how great the difficulty, it could be resolved; no matter how great the adversity, it could be reversed. But before that, we had to know exactly what had happened.

The Colonel’s messenger did not come, but a great deal of news from the Royal Capital did.

While we were still lined up outside the gates of Chamela City and had not yet entered, a guard officer wrapped in a heavy cloak hurried out to greet us.

“Duke… Your Grace, you’ve finally come,” this tall soldier shouted loudly, completely forgetting his dignity. “On the fourth day after you set out, three urgent reports arrived from the Royal Capital. Every messenger said the news was extremely important and told me to hand them to you the moment you returned. I had no idea where you had gone. God, I didn’t know what to do. Thank heavens you’re back…” He ran to Fred’s horse, held back his heavy breathing and the panic in his heart, and placed the three letters sealed with secret marks into Fred’s hands.

Fred tore open the first letter and unfolded the paper. Large snowflakes fell onto the paper, wetting a patch of it in an instant. By the faint, flickering light of the torches, he hastily scanned the contents of the letter. Suddenly, his face changed drastically.

“Let’s talk once we’re inside the town!” he said to us in a low voice. My intuition told me that something major had happened.

Something major had indeed happened.

“His Majesty the King has passed away!” Fred said to us in the temporary meeting room in the town.

It was as if a thunderclap had burst out of nowhere, shocking us into speechlessness. For a while, I didn’t even know what expression I should put on to match the arrival of this news.

The first thing I felt was grief.

Without a doubt, His Majesty Miguela I was not a competent monarch. He had neither the wisdom to govern the country nor the talent to command an army. What’s more, his weakness and incompetence caused him to lose his grip on power in his later years. He could only watch helplessly as two senior ministers fought brazenly before him over the right of succession to the throne, without daring to say even a word.

But he truly was a good man.

I had only seen this old man twice, both times when Fred was being rewarded for his military achievements. He was kind and amiable toward Fred, and showed not the slightest contempt for our young commander. When the Royal Capital was trapped and the situation was critical, he did not take his anger out on the ministers surrounding him; he only grieved silently by himself. The two meetings were barely half a year apart, yet his hair and beard had already turned completely white, and he had aged beyond recognition. I had never seen a person deteriorate so quickly in such a short time. Perhaps he really was a mediocre and incapable monarch, but he truly did labor with all his heart for his country.

Although he had never spoken a single word to me, I felt somewhat sad that he had died. This sadness did not come from my loyalty, but from the goodwill this poor old man had left me as an ordinary person.

As the faint sorrow faded, anxiety and worry followed. At a time when the situation was unfavorable and battle was imminent, the supreme ruler’s seat of Delanmaya had suddenly fallen vacant. This was absolutely not good news. Although I didn’t know exactly what would happen, I knew that no matter what happened, it could only do harm to this war, never any good.

“The other two letters are handwritten letters from Marquis Meneval and Duke Gallett. I think you all know what they want to say.” He slammed his right hand heavily onto the table, making a loud noise. “These fools, is this really the time for such pointless matters? How long do they think they can sit on a throne piled with skulls?”

“Fred, you… who do you plan to support?” I probed in a low voice.

“Support?” Fred asked back with a bitter smile. “Do we still have the right to support anyone? The Eastern Route Army has gone completely silent. We are weak and alone. The Cretans could arrive at any moment, and in an instant our whole army could be wiped out. At a time like this, do we still have the right to support anyone?”

He sighed mournfully and threw the two letters from the power holders into the stove. The letters burned quickly, giving off a great blaze, but in an instant they all turned to ashes.

Ambition? Power? They were probably just like these two letters — destined only to burst out once in a flashy, hypocritical flame, but destined not to last.

“Relying on people like us, who can’t even guarantee our own survival from one morning to the next, to fight for their throne — these people are truly mad…”

They were not mad people. In fact, we could say they were far more clear-headed than the most clear-headed of people. They were conspirators and schemers, with minds far more cunning than ordinary people’s. It was just that they had already tasted all the glory, wealth, and honor in this world. Wealth and status could no longer satisfy their desires. Their positions had risen to the very limit, and they had stayed in places second only to the highest point for too long. Once an opportunity appeared for them to taste the ultimate honor they had never tasted in their lives, they would go mad for it without a moment’s hesitation.

At this moment, to those two power holders far away in the Royal Capital, nothing in this world was more important than the throne at their side. Their eyes could no longer see anything else — not even the foundation of that throne, the reality that this country was on the verge of destruction.

“Then what should we do?” Dakla asked somewhat impatiently. “We can’t just sit here waiting to die!”

Fred fell into deep thought once again. Out of habit, he propped up his right hand and lightly tapped his forehead with two fingers. We all knew that whenever he assumed this posture, he was making a decision. So, at this moment, what decision would he make?

“No matter what…” Finally, he broke free from his thoughts and said to us, “We can’t just sit here waiting for death. Taking advantage of the snowstorm, we’ll rest in Chamela Town for two days. Three days from now, we’ll march to Dark Cloud Fortress to join up with Riley and Roll. The fortifications at Blade’s Edge Canyon in the north have all been completely rebuilt by now, so they should hold for a while longer. Although we’ve heard nothing from the Eastern war zone, judging from the enemy’s troop movements, it probably hasn’t completely collapsed yet. The Western route is in the best shape, so for now we won’t suffer a total defeat. Just let those people in the Royal Capital stir up their trouble. After all, the war is still going on…”

The bad news did not stop there. Just as we were about to set out, another urgent report was delivered to Fred.

Fifteen days ago, taking advantage of the frozen river in winter, the Winston split into three columns and launched a night raid on the three cities of Kampnavia, Davo, and Kagsen, seizing the vital passage on the south bank of the Morning Light River in one stroke.

Fred merely smiled slightly, tore the letter into four pieces, and scattered them to the wind.

For us, bad news had piled up to the point of numbness. Even if the Deities from the heavens had descended before us right then and personally told us that the world would end tomorrow, our reaction probably would not have been any more intense than it was now.

We retreated through the heavy snow, leaving the vast Greenleaf Plains completely undefended at the Cretans’ fingertips. This was once land where we had built our achievements, and now we had no choice but to leave it. When this heavy snow passed, the warriors of Crete would discover in astonishment that the enemy troops that had been slaughtering across the land under their control just days ago, as if preparing for a full-line counterattack, had vanished overnight — like the last fallen leaf of late autumn, swept down by this bitter wind that was destined to come.

This snow was so heavy. The entire plain was wrapped in a quiet, deathly white, as if the land of a dying nation had already put on mourning garments.

…

When we were still four days’ journey away from Dark Cloud Fortress, a person shouting Fred’s name burst into our formation. The soldiers in the front ranks tried to stop him with their blades, but he pushed them aside. When the others were about to kill this man who had charged into the army, he collapsed weakly onto the snowy ground.

Seeing this, I hurried over to check on him. When I touched his arm, I saw that his hands were bruised purple, covered with severe frostbite. His clothes were thin, and the bloodstains on his body had been soaked by the snow water until they were blurred, but the large patches of purplish-red color were still shocking to the eye.

I turned his body over and saw his face.

“Doctor! Call the doctor! Millia, come here, prepare for emergency treatment…”

I lifted his body and ran toward the rear with all the strength I had.

“Set up a tent, quick!”

I pulled a blanket from my horse and spread it on the ground, laid him on it, then scooped up snow from the ground and kept rubbing his arms and legs.

“Form a circle around us, block the wind and snow!”

Millia still had not arrived. I was still frantically trying to save him. I rubbed the exposed skin on his body like a madman. Sweat dripped from my forehead onto the unconscious man’s body, splashing up faint glimmers of water. Under my rubbing, his originally stiff and ice-cold skin gradually became soft, and the flesh-pink color that represented the flow of blood reappeared on parts of his skin.

I was nervous. I was afraid. I used every method to save the person before me. I had to, because he was none other than our loyal comrade-in-arms — the officer who should now be guarding Dark Cloud Fortress at Riley’s side, the warrior famous for his bloody and brutal fighting, the commander of the “Dagger of the Dead” unit, Roll.

No matter what had happened, he absolutely should not have appeared here, especially not before us like this. Judging by his current state, he was almost only one step away from death. If we had not withdrawn from Chamela, if we had not chosen to travel through the wind and snow, or rather, if we had passed this place one step too late, we would most likely never have seen this shy, introverted yet brave and fearless man again.

Millia finally arrived. A moment later, the tent was also set up. When I saw Millia make the gesture indicating he was safe, I finally breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed onto the ground.

After we set up camp on the spot, we came outside Roll’s tent. Everyone looked at each other, faces full of anxiety, without saying a word. Everyone knew in their hearts that seeing Roll appear before us in such a state at this time meant that something must have gone wrong at Dark Cloud Fortress — perhaps it had already fallen. For us, who were almost in a hopeless situation, this was truly too heavy a blow to bear.

“Fred…” Roll’s weak voice came from inside the tent. We hurriedly poured into the tent and came to his side.

“Fred, is that you…” Roll, who had just woken up, reached out a trembling hand toward our commander.

Fred tightly held his hand and comforted him in a low voice: “It’s me, Roll, it’s Fred. It’s alright. We’re all here. Don’t worry…”

“Fred, go quickly.” Suddenly, Roll remembered something and called out hoarsely, “Go, leave the Greenleaf Plains. The Cretans… the Cretans are going to surround you. Miraze betrayed us… betrayed all of us…”

“What happened?” Although we had heard a lot of bad news recently, none of it had ever been so close to us, directly threatening our survival. The moment Roll’s words came out, even Fred couldn’t help feeling uneasy. He shook Roll’s hand and asked loudly, afraid of missing any word from his mouth.

This is what had happened…

About ten days ago, the Western Route Army, which had originally been in an aggressive attacking state, suddenly made a strange move. Under the leadership of Baron Miraze, they carried out a large-scale lateral maneuver at the front line. The Cretans, who had suffered losses in battle, did not know what the Baron intended, so they did not dare to act rashly. Who would have thought that after this maneuver, the Western Route Army simply vanished without a trace, its whereabouts unknown.

The Cretans did not hesitate in the slightest. After occupying the vast lands of the Gem Flower Plain, they charged straight at Dark Cloud Fortress. At the same time, another Cretan force burst out from the Vida Basin, which had originally been guarded by the Western Route Army. Attacking from both sides, they surrounded Dark Cloud Fortress.

In the defensive battle, Riley drew most of the enemy’s attention, and Roll led his own subordinates in a sudden assault, tearing open the encirclement by surprise and breaking through layer after layer of blockades. In the fighting, all of his men were killed, leaving him all alone. If we had not happened to save him, I’m afraid we would not have learned this news until after the Cretans had surrounded and annihilated us.

“Didn’t I tell you that once the Western Route Army’s defense line was broken, you should retreat immediately and never face the enemy on two fronts? Why didn’t you listen? Why didn’t you listen?” Fred shook Roll’s collar excitedly and shouted.

“I once suggested this to Riley, but he refused…”

“He told me that once Dark Cloud Fortress fell, the Cretans would rush into the Greenleaf Plains and complete the encirclement around you. So he swore to hold the fortress to the death and made me break through the encirclement at all costs, no matter what, to bring this message to you…”

“…He asked me to tell you that he couldn’t bring the army back to your side, and couldn’t fulfill the promise. He truly was… sorry…” Roll could no longer continue. He could only express his longing for his comrade with the most grievous sobbing.

Fred’s shaking arm stopped. He grabbed Roll’s collar tightly and knelt weakly onto the ground. Tears surged from his eyes like two warm springs, flowing with a bitter and sorrowful taste in the cold winter air.

“This idiot…” he said in a low voice, his voice twisted by extreme grief. “I told him to retreat. There was no need to do such a foolish thing. This guy who doesn’t keep his word — just like Carlson, they’re all guys who don’t keep their word…”

“Where is he? He’s not dead, right? The fortress hasn’t fallen yet. He’s still there, he must still be there. He is our strongest shield. No one can break through the city he guards. How many days’ journey is it? How many days? The whole army, break camp! Break camp! We’re going to save him, hurry…” Suddenly, Fred sprang up from the ground and shouted in a daze.

Roll lowered his head and choked out a sentence: “Riley said that if even one soldier came to rescue him, he would immediately cut his own throat on the city wall. He said it… and he would do it…”

Fred was as if his whole body had been struck by lightning. In an instant, these words drained all the strength from his body, and he collapsed onto the ground. Riley’s words had completely sealed off any possibility of us going to rescue him. Before Roll even broke out of the encirclement, Riley had already made up his mind, holding the conviction that he would die in order to win a chance at life for his friends.

This great friendship came too fiercely and too heavily. It almost crushed our shoulders, and crushed our hearts as well, making it too heavy for us to bear.

Dakla, Riley’s closest friend, could no longer hold it in and walked out of the tent. Before long, we heard the sound of his anguished cries ringing out across the plain. Ever since they were new recruits, Riley and Dakla had always been arguing endlessly. Riley liked to mock Dakla’s slowness with sharp words, and Dakla always used his physical advantage to overpower Riley, as if there were no other way to express the deep affection between them. Wherever they appeared, they always added a lot of liveliness.

On the battlefield, they were perfectly matched partners. No matter where they were, Riley could always appear at Dakla’s side at just the right moment, providing him with solid defense so that he could fight freely without any worries.

If Riley were already dead, perhaps we would have felt a little better. But he might still be alive right now, still fighting, still paving the road of survival for us with his own blood. Yet we could not be by his side, fighting shoulder to shoulder with him. We could only wait sorrowfully and helplessly for news of his death. This pain — we could not suppress it, Fred could not suppress it, and Dakla, that hearty, straightforward big man, could suppress it even less.

Before long, Dakla walked back into the tent. His eyes held tears, yet they also seemed to hold a cluster of crystalline flame.

“You’re saying Miraze deliberately retreated, opened up the defense line, and let the Cretans surround the fortress?” Dakla asked in a voice full of hatred.

“Yes, it was him!” When this name was mentioned, Roll could no longer hold back the fury in his heart. Although he still sat there weakly and powerlessly, at this moment his face was as if covered by a layer of frost colder than ice and snow. His eyes were filled with malice, and a bloodthirsty ferocity appeared on his originally gentle face, making my heart, watching him at that moment, tremble involuntarily.

“I don’t know why. He originally held a great advantage, but suddenly he retreated his entire army toward the Royal Capital, completely exposing us before the Cretans’ eyes. Also, he must have reached some kind of agreement with the Cretans. When they saw him retreat, the Cretans came charging over without a moment’s pause, without the slightest suspicion that this was a trap…”

“Miraze…” This name tore at my heart and lungs like a venomous snake. I had never hated a person as much as this in my life. Even Prince Louis, who had taken Carlson’s life, had never stirred our anger like this. At least he had killed Carlson fair and square in a duel on the battlefield, while Miraze had sent our friend to his death with the most despicable, the most shameless methods.

The country would fall — fine, let it fall. A man would die — fine, let him… just let him die. If we could not reverse any of this, then let us do the things we could do. For example, accept Riley’s kindness; for example, preserve our own lives.

For example, take our revenge…

For our friend who was dying a heroic death!