"What are you doing?!" Konrad yelled in panic. "Recall your knights. Now!"
But his voice lacked the commanding confidence of a duke.
Lord Schwertburg laughed.
"They're not attacking you, kid, but the enemy," he grunted. "Stay put and watch."
The fucking audacity—
But what else could he do?
He was too far. And even if Nimrod's troops rushed into a defensive position, they were not heavy infantry. As guerrillas, they didn't even carry proper shields around.
A cavalry charge of this scale would have flattened them like they weren't even there.
And then—it'd be a massacre.
They could scatter the nomads and take the pass, then no force could have dislodged them.
Starving them would've taken too long, and it wouldn't have undone the damage.
No. He had to prevent it now, even if he had no idea how.
"This is a stab in the back," Konrad claimed. And since he was a doting father, "right in front of your daughter?! We entered a defensive pact for her sake, and yet—"
"Where's she, then?" the towering noble boomed. "I'm holding myself to that pact right now."
That didn't work, either.
Disarming the nomads might have been a huge mistake.
But these were non-combatants anyway. Starved women and children—
No. Lamenting over the past was time wasted in the present.
He was their protector. Konrad had to defend them at all costs.
"Call 'em back," he seethed, his hands curled into fists and trembling. "This is your last warning."
But the duke waved him off, watching his thousand knights approach at a breakneck speed.
Not that he expected it to work.
Three times wasn't the charm, but he needed a moment to think up something better.
Like, he had the mana and even all his reserves in his sword to wipe them off the map.
He could have launched a giant fireball from where he stood and glass the fields, but—
That would have only escalated this situation.
He couldn't forsake diplomacy for good.
Not when he wanted to prevent a massacre, rather than causing another one. Besides, this was only a small part of the enemy forces. He couldn't hope to defeat them all at once.
Lily, or heck, even Stella and the Demon Lord could, but none of them were here.
Alter the landscape?
He learned how to command the earth from Maple, but it would have taken too long.
And again, he was too far. His range was like sixty feet at best.
There was not enough water nearby to cause a flood, and he had already ruled fire out.
That left air, which he had plenty, but—
No. He'd take what he had. The knights were only two hundred paces away and showed no signs of slowing down. He used wind magic on a static formation as a boost before.
Would it stop them? If he compressed the air enough—
No, the question was, how he'd raise a wall so far from here?
Nimrod's men wore light armor, but they'd reinforce it with adamantite.
He could use that for remote casting and build the wall from small sections, but—
Screw it, he was past the evaluation phase and was already organizing the runes in his mind.
How large an area would he have to cover?
A thousand knights. The formation was five rows deep, and they didn't bother with a wedge.
They expected no real opposition and wanted to cut a deep and wide hole.
To raise a wall three hundred paces wide was a must.
That'd cost him, uh—fuck it, he poured all his essence into it, his aching back causing him to yelp. But he'd worry about that later. Take control, compress, solidify, repeat.
The knights were only fifty paces away, and the people in the convoy started to panic.
If Nimrod's men scattered, his whole plan would fall apart.
Of course, they didn't see the forming wall. Had they noticed the swirling air—
No, a thousand knights galloping towards them would still be too scary.
But they held, and his spell was ready.
He could only hope the charge wouldn't change directions in the last second. He only covered the smallest possible area, and his knees already buckled—
But hearing the satisfying crunch when the cavalry stopped dead made it all worth it.
A terrifying sound, echoing far and wide, indicating he might have broken quite a few noses.
And definitely affected Lord Schwertburg's jaws, too.
Good riddance.
He straightened his back, using what little essence he'd scrape together to look tall.
Well, he had to syphon a little extra to amplify his voice, too, but his blade had plenty to spare.
"I'll say this one last time," his voice boomed across the foot of the mountains. "They're under my protection. Attack them, and you're attacking the Halstadts. Something I won't tolerate."
Yeah, the mana from his adamantite sword was the only thing keeping him from falling over.
But his audience didn't have to know that.
He'd even summon a fireball large enough so the foot soldiers in the back would see it, too.
And from that far, they wouldn't realize it had no heat at all—
"Have you already forgotten that I've defeated the Demon Lord?" Konrad demanded, staring the towering duke down. His image did, at least. He even needed Welf's support to stand.
"T-they upset the White Mage," the whispers of the nearby soldiers reached him.
Oh. That.
Yeah, he completely forgot.
"Indeed, I'm upset," he responded, waving Kade and the redhead to move forward. "And Lord Schwertburg will have to answer for his betrayal. Apprehend him, and anyone supporting him."
And whatever support he had melted away faster than a slime left out in the summer sun.
Vargas was the first to bow down before him.
Nothing surprising there, except that he didn't do it for himself.
"Forgive him, My Lord," he yelled like someone who'd been taking acting classes while Konrad was busy. "His grief from thinking he'd lost his only daughter had affected his judgement."
Ugh. That was the angle they were going for?
Not that he wanted to execute him, or anything.
Like, as long as he averted this disaster, and found a place to sit before collapsing—
"Is that so?" an all-too-familiar voice demanded from behind his back.
Oh boy. So the hunt was successful?
"Did you finally lose your mind, Father?!" Gabrielle asked, entering the scene in style.
The duke stopped tussling against Konrad's own towering guards and fell to his knees.
"M-my little Gabby," he muttered as if he were worshipping an idol. "You're safe?!"
The angel rolled her eyes.
"What else would I be?" she asked, reverting to her fragile little princess self for the duke's sake. Good. Konrad was about to warn her. "My Dear Husband takes better care of me than you did."
Oof. What a brutal execution.
No magic or force Halaima could muster would have humiliated him more than that.
Konrad felt almost bad for the duke. Almost.
But the angel in blue was not done yet. Not even close.
"So," she waved over the noble armies. "How are you going to compensate us for this farce? And guarantee that you'll never so much as raise a finger at my Husband's subjects again?!"
And he used to doubt if it was smart to marry that woman?
Konrad needed a strong reminder never to piss off Gabrielle.