Chapter 874 - Marcus's Bravado
The laugh Krang had worn while putting on a show of bravado disappeared in an instant.
The Lihin-Stetten army had retreated.
Four knights had died, and the griffon riders had vanished like mosquitoes in the cold.
Had there been any bad news?
No.
And yet, Krang's complexion was dull.
He looked like a housewife worrying about a summer night's storm.
A face that seemed to fear the ruthlessness of the storm, unable to gauge its strength even after preparing for it.
It was an expression only Enkrid saw.
Before entering the small tent, Krang had maintained a confident attitude, even laughing as he turned around.
He only revealed his anxiety once inside the tent.
Was this a moment requiring deduction?
One might make countless jokes about trivial matters, but such mischief wouldn't be necessary for genuinely important matters.
Enkrid chose the fastest path.
He looked at his close friend and asked.
"Why?"
Without needing a long explanation, everything was contained in the short and bold question.
From Why is your expression like that? to What is the cause of your anxiety? and Why can't you celebrate the victory?
The first answer came not from Krang, but from Cypress.
"The number of troops, including knights, is too small. The knights, especially, are few. It's a disappointing number to consider as the main force."
Lihin-Stetten's troop strength was superior to Naurillia's.
Just in knight numbers, they had at least three times as many.
That was what was known.
Since they had three knightly orders alone.
Among them, he had given four of the Amethyst Knights the chance to leave this life and greet a new one, but Cypress judged that it was insufficient for a force left behind to stop him.
Even with the griffon riders, this was nothing more and nothing less than a stalling tactic.
"Lihin-Stetten split their forces and sent them out. Their potential is such that it's hard to call them a detached unit."
Krang added.
The worst-case scenario had occurred.
He was certain of it now, after defeating the enemy.
However, the king's words right now were greatly mistaken.
In truth, if one looked only at the unit's strength, this side was the detached unit, and the hidden side would be the main force.
In other words, the allied main force was tied up by this detached unit.
"We've been had."
The king said again.
Enkrid's helmet rack spun rapidly to prove that it was used for more than just fighting.
'Krang brought only the Royal Guard and a portion of the troops here. The headcount is small for a king's personal expedition.'
Then where were the rest?
They probably remained where Krang originally was.
The royal palace, the capital, or the road to the capital.
'Krang came with a small number but noisily raised his flag.
Now that he has won, he has even made his position known to the enemy.
I don't know for sure, but just letting that many enemy soldiers go is an act worthy of a line in the history books.'
Naturally, if he won, it would be written as glorious, and if he lost, he would be written as the stupidest moron of a king in the world.
'The word that the king of a nation has stepped onto the battlefield will spread widely. Not as a clumsy rumor, but as a proven fact.'
Were there just one or two witnesses?
There were over hundreds.
Among them, how many were commanders whose words held credibility?
The knights were killed, but the unit survived.
The commander also returned alive, so he would speak of the appearance of someone with blond hair, blue eyes, and a cream-colored cloak he saw with his own eyes, and he would also convey the story he heard with his own ears.
What Krang did was no different from throwing down a gauntlet, declaring that the king was here and challenging them to a decisive battle here without needing a prolonged fight.
'If he had even mimed throwing a leather glove in their face, it would have been perfect.'
Krang had thrown a winning move.
Lihin-Stetten had crossed Naurillia's border from the start.
As soon as he recognized that, Krang sought and walked the best path he could.
He wished to minimize the sacrifice of those within the fence called the country.
He did so even if it meant using himself as bait.
"If it goes well, I'll be a sage king; if it fails, I'll be a moron. I know, Enki."
In between, Krang had revealed his intentions a few times, and he added further explanation now.
It was a short conversation, but the understanding was complete.
Krang nodded at his close friend realizing his intent.
"An army consumes supplies just by moving. If they have already moved, they won't just clap their hands and come back, thinking 'oh well'. It would be natural for them to conquer a city and plunder supplies before returning. Do you wish to send Rien and Ingis? My King."
Cypress asked.
The knight with light brown hair showing gray had a calm attitude, without any murderous intent or dizzying aura.
He was as always.
No different from when they first met.
However, the implication contained in his words was like a naked blade.
Now, decide, My King.
Those you left behind have stepped up to block the storm with a single thin plank.
Are they enough?
Or will you endure their sacrifice?
Or will you send a means to block the storm, even late?
Such words were the hidden proposal.
Enkrid judged it a harsh moment, but since he was the king, he left him to handle it.
Also, because he was his knight, he merely found and did what he had to do.
Enkrid asked the name of the person who remained behind, blocking the road to the capital, harboring recklessness or perhaps courage.
"Who remained?"
Krang answered readily.
"Marquis Baisar volunteered."
A man who liked tea, outwardly preferred immorality, but inwardly respected his father.
He was once his battalion commander.
Krang showed a smile, but it was bitter.
A bitter and wry smile.
With the bitter smile, Krang continued.
"I know it's a gamble. I have no intention of making excuses. Marcus might die."
As if the speaker himself didn't believe it, his eyes were full of strength.
Leading a portion of the troops to block an enemy army that included knightly forces.
He didn't have to defeat them.
He just had to buy time.
The king, the symbol of Naurillia, was here, and two pillars supporting the royal family were also here.
Ultimately, it was a fight that would only end if they removed the knightly orders and killed or captured the king.
Therefore, while Marcus bought time, Krang was revealing his name here to draw all the enemy forces to this place.
That was the form of the strategy.
Should he name it something like "ant lion pit"?
'If he had said the king was here after being defeated or in urgency, it would look like the enemy figured out his intent or like he was revealing his weakness.'
Krang waited for his allies' victory instead of stepping up abruptly.
He didn't cry out that he was here, or plead for them not to touch the kingdom's people.
He didn't beg.
'Because he must not reveal weakness.'
It was a time when he had to endure, even if his insides burned and his intestines felt like they were being cut.
He did so.
That was the reason he stood before the battlefield, taking risks after seeing what Fel did.
And the reason a provocation that seemed arrogant yet not desperate was needed.
Fel might not know what he had done, but coincidences overlapped to help what Krang wanted.
What was all this for?
It was time.
'Short and bold.'
Striking like lightning instead of burning long like a candle—that was the core of this war.
In the midst of this, they needed people to hold the enemy's feet and accumulate damage so they couldn't exert force elsewhere.
They needed soldiers to buy time and die instead of letting a city fall.
They needed a hero to show bravado, saying they wouldn't just be beaten by the enemy.
They needed a great man to gauge the enemy's strength and convey it even while dying by a knight's blade.
This was the result of that necessity.
"'Why? Do they think we'll just be beaten if there are no knights? I will show them how I fight.' That is the message Marcus asked me to convey."
Marcus's bravado was conveyed through the king's mouth.
Instead of a bitter smile, a genuine smile accompanied it.
In his smile, faith, trust, and loyalty were mixed with anxiety, tension, and sadness.
Krang conveyed Marcus Baisar's words with an expression only a human bearing agony could make.
"I share the same opinion. Everyone is fighting for what they want in their own place."
The king's will did not change.
He had staked much for a short and bold fight.
His own life, and the life of a subject who was a close friend—everything.
If he lost here, Krang would die too.
It was like demanding such a war.
For that, he spared the knightly forces.
He had to gather them in one place.
Because he had to slap the cheek of the Great Emperor leading Lihin-Stetten here.
It was the best way to fight and win with numbers inferior to the South.
Cypress decided not to send the Crimson Cloak Knights.
Rien and Ingis could go, but if they went now, they would likely just carve a name on Marcus's tombstone and return.
Or maybe they would have to just cover Marcus's dead body with dirt a few times without even time for that and return immediately.
There were no wings in the knightly order, but there were a few fast horses with reserved stamina.
However, no mount could exceed physical limits.
"Whether it is right or wrong will be discussed by historians of the distant future, not today, but for now, I will agree with Your Highness's choice."
Cypress was a man who knew how to console.
He spoke to Krang.
Krang reduced the anxiety, tension, and sadness in his expression a little and spoke, giving more weight to faith and trust.
"Just because the Goddess of the Scales' balance has tipped, I do not think those placed on it can do nothing. Their death is not a predetermined fact."
The Goddess of the Scales enjoys difficult problems.
What can you do on a tilted scale?
The Goddess asks, and humans only answer.
If you do nothing, you fall from the tilted scale and die.
If you struggle and hold on, you might hang onto the scale and live a little longer.
If you enter the Grand Chapel in the capital Naurill, a painting symbolizing the Goddess's dilemma hangs on the left wall.
It shows a person hanging on and enduring on the scale, and something painted black pressing down hard on the other side.
Cypress looked into the king's eyes.
The will contained in those eyes shone.
"War gives the victor the right to rewrite history."
If they lost, Marcus's sacrifice might become worthless.
So he would win here and remember the spirit they showed.
Enkrid figured out one of Cypress's habits.
He spoke in a complicated way.
It might be a habit formed from old age.
Since he was an old man over seventy.
"Do people sometimes tell you that your gaze is insolent?"
Cypress suddenly asked Enkrid.
"I've never heard such a thing."
Enkrid was not an elf, so he would speak falsehoods as much as necessary.
Krang chuckled.
Cypress went outside with a faint smile.
"Marcus isn't the type to be beaten quietly."
Enkrid said continuously.
He had considerable experience fighting alongside him.
He knew Marcus as a battalion commander, and he knew his eccentricity of mixing alcohol into his tea.
He was a man who used his nickname, hid his strength, and would do anything to win.
Although one couldn't say he possessed outstanding strategy and tactics.
'But he's not a fool.'
Krang nodded.
"Sharp. Enki."
Enkrid heard the strategy Marcus had prepared.
It was an interesting story.
"Indeed."
Should he call him Marcus the War Maniac?
Hadn't he often done things that suited his nickname in the past?
'War Maniac' was a nickname Marcus had given himself.
Originally, his specialty was aiming for the opponent's loopholes using the fame of enjoying war.
It was similar this time.
'But knights are different.'
Can he stop them?
Probably not.
It was a fact he knew without racking his brain.
"I could go there for a moment."
Enkrid's tone was as light as if he were saying he would walk over and get a glass of water.
"It's already too late. This is a calculated fight."
Krang replied.
They had considered splitting the knightly order in response to the enemy's movement, but then the size of the bait on this front would decrease.
The current situation was the result of the agony of dozens of strategists in the royal palace racking their brains.
Well, if things didn't go as planned, he intended to lead the entire knightly order across the southern border and wage a war that called for destruction, saying let's die together.
In the past, were kingdom battles fought like this called wars of annihilation?
In other words, this was a written challenge and a threat to the enemy army.
If you leave us here and spread out to fight, we'll just march and burn the southern royal palace?
A threat like that, perhaps?
Therefore, there wasn't enough time to strike the southern army that was using the land widely.
Because the distance was far and the terrain rough.
Enkrid spoke, still nonchalantly.
"Not late. It's quick if I ride."
He answered and stepped out of the tent to meet his friend whose excitement hadn't faded.
"With so many mouths, rumors will spread quickly. Huh?"
As soon as he opened the tent entrance, he saw Rem's face.
He didn't know when he had arrived.
"You're going to ride Rem? Are you saying that's faster than just running?"
Krang asked.
It was a nasty joke.
Cypress, who had gone out first, couldn't hold it in and smirked.
A madman riding a barbarian—wasn't it quite a funny sight?
"No, come out. Why are you here?"
Enkrid pushed Rem.
"Did I come somewhere I shouldn't?"
Rem retorted grumpily, and Enkrid pointed to another comrade still frolicking in the sky behind him.
***
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