Chapter 143

Translator: Willia

Leonia Fortress looked as if it had been carved straight out of a cliff. Between the high ground and the fortress lay a sheer precipice, and it was impossible to cross unless one used the drawbridge lowered from the fortress.

The ancient Imperials first settled the site and built the walls, and afterward the Sinatrians, especially those living in the Leonia region, gradually expanded it bit by bit as part of their daily lives, eventually reaching its present form.

With a history spanning over a thousand years, the fortress’s magnificence and solidity were such that it looked as though it had been built not by humans, but by giants from some unfathomably distant past.

Yet it fell. By a single person. Even if it were recorded in history, would descendants be able to believe it?

That unbelievable event was witnessed firsthand by people of the same era with their own two eyes. As a result, the gazes people cast toward Ricardt were not like those directed at the same kind of human.

God, or one who inherited that bloodline. That was the only way they could think of him. He had gone from being regarded as a braggart to someone whose veins were thought to carry sacred blood.

Well, it did not really matter even if there were no sacred bloodline among his ancestors. The person known as Ricardt himself was sacred.

And being sacred meant that he possessed something that made him fit to become a king. It was what was called the divine right of kings, the authority to rule and govern people bestowed by God.

It was an era in which that mattered more than whether a monarch was capable or not. No matter how outstanding one’s abilities were, if people did not follow, it meant nothing.

That sacred right was inherited solely through bloodlines, and thus the king’s children inherited that right and ruled over the people.

Occasionally, monarchs’ obsession with legitimacy was also for that very reason. Of course, even a legitimate king could have lands full of lords who ignored his words entirely, but without even legitimacy, it was practically the end.

But did Ricardt truly possess such a sacred something?

Raimund stood on the drawbridge of Leonia Fortress and looked down at the precipice below.

As if it led straight to hell, the cliff became pitch-black beyond a certain point, and its end was nowhere to be seen. Wind that began deep underground blew upward without rest.

Killing the Green Dragon brothers might be one thing, but leaping across this place while the drawbridge was being raised truly felt like a miracle.

Just standing still and looking down made one’s legs tremble, yet he had jumped across on horseback.

“That his bravery is unparalleled in the world, that much is certain.”

And such courage was impossible to explain unless it had been granted by God. At least, that was how it seemed from the perspective of a reasonable person.

Thus, by surpassing common sense and bringing down the fortress through an irrational act, it was fair to say that sacred power resided in him.

Raimund withdrew his gaze from the precipice and entered Leonia Fortress. Inside, soldiers had already poured in, and the place was in chaos.

They were barging into perfectly intact family homes and taking out everything that could be turned into money. Iron pots, usable furniture, everything without exception.

“Such a very generous measure.”

One of his fellow knights said so.

That was because they were not dragging the men out to kill them, raping the women, or setting fires everywhere.

There were different kinds of plunder, each with a different nature, and by the standards of the present world, this level was practically the same as not looting at all.

In fact, those who lost their property were still able to preserve their lives, so they let out sighs of relief and praised the king’s generosity.

Instead, all the influential figures of the city had been killed and their heads displayed on stakes near the walls. Of course, all of their property went straight into the king’s pocket.

Raimund, smiling broadly, grabbed a soldier who was running off somewhere carrying looted odds and ends and asked him.

“Hey, where is Sir Ricardt?”

“Who is that?”

“......El Cid.”

“Ah, he should be up that slope over there.”

The soldier replied while looking up toward somewhere.

Not all of it, but since Leonia Fortress had been built by cutting into the terrain, it was not flat. Some places were high, and others were low.

Raimund climbed the slope as the soldier had said. There stood a large tree, and beneath it Ricardt was resting while seated, having tied a red horse beside him. At his side, no one dared to approach.

Ricardt was looking down at the interior of the fortress, a scene that could be called peaceful in its own way. To the eyes of someone who knew what happened when a proper massacre took place, this level was extremely peaceful.

Looking at Ricardt, Raimund felt that for someone who had fought so fiercely, he was surprisingly calm in his usual demeanor.

“Will the king keep his promise?”

Ricardt asked.

“King Santonio’s nickname is ‘the Bold’. If that reputation truly reflects his character, then he will keep his promise.”

“Will he not feel threatened?”

All power holders in the world were suspicious and fickle. Just as one’s mood differed when entering and leaving the latrine, no matter what promises were made, supporting a war was a burdensome matter.

“Still, perhaps it is fortunate that you and we are foreigners. If you were his knight, his thoughts might be different.”

A capable retainer also had to conduct himself carefully, because if a ruler felt threatened by him, outstanding ability could instead become poison.

What Ricardt had done, what he had accomplished, was to that extent. It was an achievement that surpassed the king’s authority.

However, neither Ricardt nor the Order of the Flame Knights were King Santonio’s retainers. Just as the ignorant soldiers regarded them as little more than mercenaries, that was in fact correct.

Then Raimund, as if he had something to say, hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“......I confess that I did not trust you, Ricardt. Forgive me. Now, truly, I am convinced that there is no man like you in this world.”

At Raimund’s honest words, Ricardt merely smiled faintly and tossed out a joke.

"A confession? I'm not into that sort of thing."

“What do you mean? Ah, goodness. Hahahaha. How embarrassing.”

“By the way, where are you from, Sir Raimund?”

“I am from the northern part of the Empire. There is a small estate called Arndel in Siegfringer. I joined the knight order ten years ago.”

If he had joined ten years ago, that meant he had entered two years earlier than Vilter. That meant that even at most he had not passed his twenties, making him around the same age as eighteen year old Ricardt.

“Do you not miss your family?”

“Well, I am not sure. My memories are vague now. At first, every day was painful and I wanted to return to my hometown. But after about two years, I stopped thinking about it. Everyone is like that. Before you know it, you melt into the knight order. Your brother would be the same, would he not? Do not grieve too much.”

“......”

Ricardt closed his mouth for a moment. He had spoken with the intent to comfort, but it was impossible not to feel sad. To Ricardt, family was more precious than the entire world.

Compared to his previous life, when he had lived like a demon, the reason he could live such a completely transformed life now was all thanks to his family. He had come to know that love existed in the world, that happiness existed.

Even so, Ricardt did not sink into gloom by himself. Though he could not shake it off entirely, he knew how to quietly bury it.

“What did your family call you? I mean you, Sir Raimund. This seems like something you would still remember.”

“......”

At Ricardt’s question, this time Raimund fell silent. As weathered and faded memories seemed to slightly revive, he felt a sudden heaviness and ache in his chest without realizing it.

In the knight order, there was no one who asked such questions. There were only duty, courage, and brothers. That was all.

“......Ray.”

“Then I will call you Ray from now on. You may call me Ricky as well.”

“......Hearing the name Ray makes me feel strange. As if I am breaking apart. I do not know if this is all right.”

“A wavering heart is not weakness. If you feel uneasy, trust me and follow me. I have never broken a promise. Let us go to Adelorn.”

Ricardt did not issue an order. Despite possessing courage close to a miracle and peerless skill, he did not pressure or suppress others.

Having lived a knightly life that was thoroughly controlled and restrained under a vow of purity, almost like a monk, such treatment felt unfamiliar and awkward to him.

“I understand.”

Even so, Raimund nodded and answered. Though it was still awkward, he resolved to follow the path that Ricardt was leading. To break free from the shackles of duty imposed by the Empire long ago.

In a way, it might have been because Ricardt had experienced it first that he could propose something like this.

While Ricardt and the Order of the Flame Knights were under the large tree, a knight of King Santonio slowly climbed up. He removed his helmet, paid formal respect to Ricardt, and spoke.

“Senor El Cid, the king summons you.”

“Senor” was a term in the Sinatrian language used to address a man respectfully. However, El Cid was also a term used by the Salaman people to respectfully address a man, so it became something like a double “sir, sir,” which did not quite match.

Still, since Ricardt was neither a knight nor a landed lord with his own territory, they seemed to lack a proper title to call him by and thus addressed him that way.

Ricardt rose from where he had been sitting in the shade of the tree and followed him. The king’s knight headed toward the inner keep of the fortress.

The closer they got to the inner keep, the more the Sinatrian knights and soldiers stared at Ricardt, but their gazes were completely different from before. They were looks filled with respect and reverence.

Among them, some lightly touched their helmets or gave a small bow to show courtesy, and everyone willingly stepped aside to clear the way.

When they entered the inner keep that had been used by the enemy, the vassals and knights under the king were crowded throughout the hall. But the moment Ricardt arrived, it suddenly fell completely silent.

From here and there, voices could be heard calling out Senor, Senor, or El Cid toward Ricardt.

The king’s knight led him past the hall to the room where the king was staying. They climbed the stairs and reached the fourth floor. Upon reaching the door, the knight spoke.

“My king, I have brought Senor El Cid.

“Let him in.”

With King Santonio’s permission, Ricardt entered the room and saw the king looking out the window.

The wind blowing in from outside was so fierce that it seemed one should close the shutter-like window, yet he simply faced the wind while gazing outside.

Ricardt followed his gaze and looked out the window as well, and an unbelievably wide-open view toward the west came into sight. From the position of crossing the drawbridge, it had not been apparent, but it seemed to be connected to the opposite side of the mountain.

“From my brother’s position, if he cannot use this route, he must go around a distant mountain range. I have gone around that distant mountain range and settled matters with him several times, but I wonder whether he has that kind of nerve.”

Ignoring this fortress and sending troops on a long detour meant that the rear would be left vulnerable. Yet King Santonio was saying that he had taken such risks and carried out those military operations several times.

Of course, he could not be completely at ease, so despite winning several battles, he ultimately had no choice but to withdraw. Even so, the fact that he had carried out such operations was itself a sufficient demonstration of his boldness.

"Well, I haven't met him."

"Though we're too far apart to see each other, war is like having a conversation. Do you have the ability to defeat me, do you have the leadership to urge soldiers on forced marches, are you prepared to kill me. What kind of conversation are you having with your brother?"

“I am not the type to speak with words. I only show it through actions.”

“Is that so? Yes, you do seem like that. Still, there must be sorrow in brothers born from the same womb pointing swords at each other, must there not?”

“Of course. But that is precisely why I act.”

“Are you prepared?”

“......I do not know about being prepared. If his army is thoroughly crushed, he will not be able to move at all.”

“I truly hope so. But since we are doing this anyway, I want it done properly. I do not wish to offer lukewarm, half-hearted support. If I must become enemies with the Red Reaper anyway, I want to finish him off.”

“I will do that.”

“I will give you my troops. Go to Valencia. The Amir there has said that he will convert and surrender to me. In truth, it has been discussed for a long time, but because of my prolonged struggle with my brother, I had no time to attend to it. If you take Valencia, it will put a leash around your brother’s neck. Having been abandoned by the Empire, the only place he can receive supplies from the outside is a port city. If Valencia is taken, you will be able to force the decisive battle you desire.”

King Santonio was a man with exceptional strategic insight. Ironically, just as with the Sultan of Mayub, this chaotic and brutal world gave birth to such outstanding figures.

That was because those who relied solely on their bloodlines while lacking real ability had long since been eliminated or failed to preserve their lives.

Put bluntly, it was no different from devils competing against one another in a hellish world, with the final victor ascending the throne as king. King Santonio was such a person.

“By the way, I have killed knights from Valencia before. Would not the Amir there dislike that?”

“No. On the contrary. The Amir has already lost the trust of the Salaman people long ago. That is precisely why the discipline of the knights there is lax. If there is one outstanding trait he has, it is that he knows he himself is incompetent and weak. In difficult times, surrendering early can also be one way to survive, would you not agree?”

“Then I will lead the troops and go there.”

“Good. Still, it is truly fortunate that you are not my retainer.”

“Is it acceptable to give troops to someone who is not your retainer?”

“You have already fought at the risk of your life and brought down the fortress. Is it not now my turn to keep my promise? Whether you are a foreigner is irrelevant. A king’s word must carry weight.”

King Santonio had keen discernment, great skill in handling people, outstanding strategic insight, and on top of that, dignity and boldness.

That must be why he was able to rule as king over such a chaotic land where race mixed with race and religion with religion.

In a sense, among all the lords, kings, and emperors Ricardt had seen so far, he seemed the most fitting of all to be a ruler.

“I will be on my way, Your Majesty.”

“Call me Sancho.”

“Yes?”

“When we meet next time, call me Sancho. Do not use words like king or Your Majesty.”

Ricardt was momentarily taken aback, then soon smiled faintly and said,

“Next time, please call me Ricky.”

At that, King Santonio, gazing out over the vast land beyond the window, also smiled deeply.

Ricardt left the fortress, made preparations together with Raimund and the knights, and three days later departed from Leonia Fortress.

The land of Sinatria was mostly highland terrain except for the coastline. And on those highlands, the wind blew with particular force. Accordingly, the banners fluttered powerfully.

Unlike when they had come, behind Ricardt riding his red horse, hundreds of such banners were now waving in the wind.

Adding up all the knights and soldiers gathered under each of those flags, there were easily over 5,000. They marched looking at the hero's back.

****

For more chapters, you can check out my Patreon here –> https://patreon.com/warriorsballad