Chapter 84: The Song of the Old Soldier

The civil war was at a stalemate. Pahell's army had surrounded Harmatti's castle. The siege had been going on for a fortnight.

Harmatti's castle had a terrain advantageous for a defensive battle. With the coastal cliffs at its back, there was no space for the army to maneuver around the back. The only strategy seemed to be a frontal assault.

"C’mon, move faster, faster!"

"That log is too short."

The Imperial sappers were busily working, chopping wood without their shirts.

"Timber!"

A soldier holding an axe shouted as a tall tree fell as he wiped the beading sweat off his face. The tree soon became lumber, piling up at the campsite. It was material to make the siege weapons as well as firewood for the winter.

"This is quite a sturdy fortress. It’s a good castle."

Ferzen said, gazing at the castle walls through his pale eyes. An Imperial knight next to him detailed the features of the walls to Ferzen.

"General Ferzen, is there no way to conquer it?"

Pahell asked anxiously. Winter was just around the corner.

"Prince Varca, a siege is a battle of patience, ohoho. Against a fortress like that, I can't guarantee victory in a frontal assault. If I were the one defending it, I could easily hold off five thousand men with just a thousand."

"If winter comes like this, the lords will take their troops back."

A lord's army was also the labor force of his domain. Since the armies were hastily mobilized without having time to prepare for the coming winter, it was hard to maintain the army for too long.

"The situation is even worse for Duke Harmatti. With their low morale, desertions will be frequent. With some luck, there might be enough voices asking for surrender within their army to offer Duke Harmatti's head to us themselves. Anyway, as long as we maintain the siege, they will be the first ones to collapse. Trust me, Prince. We have the upper hand. The lords will hold out as long as they can."

Ferzen said as he lightly patted his chest.

"That would be a relief. I just wish the war wouldn't drag on any longer than it already has."

"We'll build siege weapons and attack them a couple of times. That'll keep them tense, and keep them up without sleep day and night, ohoho."

Pahell nodded. Ferzen was the one with expertise in warfare. Pahell's limited knowledge was of no use.

"If only we had caught them at Baldric Plains..."

That was the last chance to end the civil war once and for all.

‘You are bringing us into an ugly fight. Duke Harmatti.'

The scales had already tipped. Duke Harmatti's end was predictable. No matter how well he defended, an isolated castle would eventually fall. It was just a matter of time.

Phillion approached Pahell with some cold water in a mug.

"You should take a breath, my prince prince. General Ferzen is completely right. Time is on our side."

"I wanted to end the civil war as quickly as possible, Sir Phillion," Pahell muttered, drinking water out of the mug. His mouth was parched.

Pahell dreaded going outside the tent. Outside, disheveled conscripted soldiers looked at him with dull eyes while sipping thin soup. On the other side, plump nobles rushed to flatter him upon seeing him.

"Why don’t you just leave the siege to General Ferzen and go to the castle? The coronation preparations should be finished by now. You can go anytime to..."

"The war isn’t over yet. It wouldn't look good. I can't just go to the castle by myself and rest comfortably." Pahell bit his thumbnail.

"Prince Varca, it's time for you to learn some patience, ohoho."

Ferzen said and left the tent. As soon as he left, the nobles who were waiting for their chance entered Pahell's tent.

"My prince, I have a third daughter who is not yet unmarried. She takes after my wife..."

"Your daughter is only barely six years old now! And you're talking about her marriage?"

"Six isn't too far off from marriage age!"

The nobles shouted, competing for attention. They were desperate to impress the prince. Nobles with daughters praised how dignified and beautiful they were.

‘What’s keeping Urich so busy for him to not show his face like this? Dammit.'

Pahell forced a smile in front of the nobles. He missed Urich. Recently, it seemed like Urich was too busy to visit him.

He had to be careful with his words around the nobles. He couldn't reveal his emotions to them. Whether he liked it or not, he had to engage in political calculations with them for every interaction. Facing the nobles itself was extreme fatigue. Pahell felt drained.

* * *

Urich had visited Ferzen after the Battle of Baldric. At that point, the heat of the battle had not yet cooled.

"Gramps, what did you mean when you said that I belong neither to the north nor the south?"

Urich asked, twirling his axe in his hand. His face, stained with blood, was smiling, but his words were sharp as a thorn.

"I said that? Oh dear, my memory is becoming fickle with age."

That was the Sword Demon Ferzen’s answer.

"...Really? I must have misheard you." Urich nonchalantly picked his ear in response.

‘Is Ferzen really just becoming senile?'

Even a month later, Urich still mulled over those words.

'For a senile old man, his judgment is too sharp. His swordsmanship is still alive. Senile, my ass...'

Urich laughed emptily. Lately, his senses were on the highest alert. He didn't miss even a trivial word around him. Urich himself was also feeling intense pressure.

‘Sky Mountains.'

Urich closed his eyes and pictured Sky Mountains vividly in his mind. As a child, whenever he looked toward the east, he always wanted to cross those mountains. Was there really a world of spirits beyond the mountains? Urich had crossed the mountains to the civilized world to fulfill his curiosity.

The memory of that day, the decision of that day, the mindset of that day.

Urich's eyes opened half-heartedly. His gaze was calm.

"Have you decided, Urich?" Sven approached and asked.

"Yes." Urich nodded.

"What will you do? Cough. It's cold. Looks like I've caught a cold," Sven coughed as he spoke.

"A northerner complaining about this weather? Hah. Even I'm doing okay. Anyway, I've decided."

"If you’ve made up your mind, then it's best to act quickly."

Urich looked at Sven. Sven truly cared for Urich and his people.

"I’m going to kill the Sword Demon Ferzen. That's the clearest solution."

Urich spoke. His voice was low and only audible to Sven, but the implication was profound.

"May your god be with you."

Sven prayed in the northern style, raising his weapon to his nose.

Killing Ferzen was the best course of action. Only Ferzen knew how much he knew about Urich and whom he had told. Whether or not it had reached the emperor's ears, Urich had only one choice.

Urich gripped the sun pendant like a civilized person.

'Help me. I've been faithful to you.'

Failure was not an option. If it were only his life that was at stake, he wouldn't even have prayed to Lou. If it were just a battle for himself, even in defeat, dying a warrior's death would suffice.

‘Sun god Lou, the god of kindness. If you truly love peace, then you must help me this time, right?'

Urich put the sun pendant back to his chest.

'Not for me, but for my brothers and sisters....'

Urich picked up his axe.

* * *

Donovan, the vice leader of Urich’s Brotherhood, occasionally had a drink with Sword Demon Ferzen. Sharing a drink with a living legend was a great honor. Even the usually aggressive Donovan was meek in front of Ferzen.

Ferzen always brought good liquor. With his status on the battlefield, it wasn't difficult to obtain fine drinks even during a war.

"This is the northern-style honey mead," Ferzen said, shaking a bronze liquor bottle.

"Ah, I have tried that drink. It's some strong stuff."

Contrary to its name, the honey mead was far from being smooth or sweet. True to the harsh climate of the north, a single drink was enough to redden one’s face. The warmth of the liquor filled not only the throat but the stomach as well.

"The Solarism priests dislike it. It’s too strong so it turns men into beasts."

"Isn’t that why the northern barbarians are beast-like? Keke."

Donovan took a sip of the honey mead. He grimaced, savoring the aftertaste. The chilling sensation was exhilarating.

"In the north, they also call honey mead ‘Lady Drink."

Ferzen started, sharing his extensive knowledge. As aged as he was, his knowledge was deep, and it was mostly about barbarians.

"Lady drink... I would have guessed it was too strong for women to drink."

"That’s not what the name means. It was named after its unique way of being made."

"Oh?"

Donovan wiped his mouth, leaning in to listen.

"In the north, women keep the bee honey in their mouths and spit it out. They repeat this several times, and then let it sit, turning the honey into liquor. The mead made by the finest girl in the village is very popular. Men fight over it. If you pay enough, you might even spend the night with the woman who made your drink."

Donovan suddenly lifted the bottle with an unclear expression on his face.

"Is this one made that way as well?"

"Who knows? All I’ve been told is that it was made in the northern way, ohoho," Ferzen chuckled mischievously.

"If it was truly made in the northern way, then let's hope a beautiful girl made this one!" Ferzen and Donovan clinked their glasses. Their laughter filled the air.

Trivial conversations followed. As Ferzen got tipsy, history poured out of his mouth. His heroic tales weren't just stories; they were significant battles that changed the course of history. Ferzen was a protagonist of his era.

"This siege will last for a while. Building siege weapons will take time as well. It's getting cold, just sitting around makes my body feel sluggish."

Donovan commented, looking outside. Harmatti's castle was visible in the distance, with its torches flickering occasionally.

"True, sitting still does make one stiff. There's an old path in the forest behind our camp. It's overgrown and easy to miss, but it was clearly a well-trodden path in the past. If you follow it, there's a lovely pond. Nowadays, I spend my downtime fishing in that pond."

Donovan's eyes lit up. He quietly moved his lips as if he was reciting something.

The moon waned. Donovan finished the liquor and got up. He bowed respectfully to Ferzen and left the tent.

Step, step.

Donovan strode across the camp. He looked back at Ferzen's tent several times.

'Should I tell him?'

The thought crossed his mind. As he looked back, Donovan felt a chilling presence.

'Urich.'

Donovan's heart sank for a moment. Urich had clearly been watching his hesitation.

Urich leaned against a tree, waiting for Donovan. His eyes shone in the wavering darkness.

'If I had turned back to Ferzen's tent...'

Donovan broke into a cold sweat. He approached Urich.

"Brothers don't betray each other," Urich murmured in the darkness.

"Do not threaten me, Urich," Donovan growled. His drunken face was fierce.

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to threaten you.”

“I’m just keeping the loyalty that I owe you, just like you did for me. At least while we're in the same mercenary squad as 'brothers'."

No matter how they looked at it, their relationship was far from harmonious, but Donovan knew Urich quite well.

'This much is certain. If I'm ever in danger, Urich will fight for me with his life.'

Ferzen had saved his life once, but to someone of his status, it was just a small gesture. Ferzen would never risk harming himself for Donovan, but Urich would. Donovan knew what kind of man Urich was.

"There's a pond behind the camp. He said he often goes fishing there."

"Thanks, Donovan."

"I don’t know what your reason is, but I hope it's something worth killing a legendary hero for."

"It is, at least for me."

Urich had shared his plan with Donovan a few days ago. He needed his help.

'I'm going to kill Sword Demon Ferzen.'

Donovan initially thought it a joke, but seeing Urich's eyes, he quickly realized it wasn't. Urich's eyes were utterly serious.

Urich nodded, patting Donovan's shoulder as he passed by.

"Urich."

Donovan called, turning around. He continued.

"...I know that this might be hard for you to believe, but I prayed for Bachman, hoping he would reach Lou’s embrace."

Donovan finished speaking. Urich nodded.

"I believe you."

What mattered wasn't the goodness of their relationship. What mattered was the presence or absence of trust.