While Cain was clashing with the beings of darkness amid the start of the sub-story.
“Commander. The night wind is chilly.”
Pale, a high-ranking mage dispatched from the Imperial Magic Tower to the direct knight order of the 4th Capital Guard Legion, offered a light warning about the cold night air to Viscount Loti Solard as he stepped out of the warm command tent in light attire.
“To be reborn as a true knight, one must always face harsh trials. Of course, this level of cold is hardly worthy of being called a trial.”
That was Viscount Loti Solard’s response to the comment about the chilly wind.
A thoroughly knightly reply.
For a moment, Pale was at a loss for words and closed his mouth.
It’s cold out—how was this the response?
But keeping silent didn’t last long.
Pale had considerable experience living the barracks life among rough and frank knights as a dispatched mage.
Thanks to that—or perhaps because of it—he quickly adapted to the peculiar knightly way of speaking that Solard employed and replied.
“Ah, hahaha… How fortunate.”
Unfortunately, what he had learned was only how not to panic when conversing with knights, not how to empathize.
So with an awkward expression, Pale glanced at Solard to gauge his reaction before steering the conversation elsewhere.
“By the way… Commander. Was this area originally under our jurisdiction?”
Pale glanced up at the night sky filled with deep darkness before tossing a somewhat surprise question at Viscount Solard.
Due to the Founding Festival catastrophe and the subsequent intrusion of assassins, the Felberg Empire’s imperial family had suffered irreparable critical damage in a short time.
Though Cain Felberg—the sole surviving imperial bloodline thanks to his exile—had hastily ascended the throne, domestic chaos did not easily subside, and the forces of the Empire’s airborne nobles still confronted the imperial loyalists head-on.
Forces aiming to undermine the long history and legitimacy of the Felberg Empire were eagerly targeting the new emperor’s life.
In such circumstances, protecting Cain—the last and only hope tied to the empire’s revival and prosperity—was paramount.
Thus, Count Steiner Randerk, newly appointed as imperial army commander, had ordered the four capital guard legions responsible for defending Granada to heighten alertness for the time being.
Accordingly, each legion maintained intense vigilance, and the 4th Capital Guard Legion—tasked with the northern defenses of Granada—had deployed additional patrol units and strengthened checkpoints on roads used by merchants, nobles, and travelers.
But with clear limits to available manpower, vigilance inevitably slackened in areas deemed less critical, like the abandoned ancient castle zone north of Granada.
As Pale pointed out, the old castle area north of Granada had recently been removed from the 4th Legion’s jurisdiction, so in principle, it need not be included in long-range patrols involving camping.
“This isn’t our jurisdiction, but there was an order from the legion commander to strengthen alertness in the outskirts for now.”
Viscount Loti Solard briefly explained the reason for detaching half the legion’s direct knight order and around a hundred soldiers to establish a temporary base in an area slightly outside jurisdiction, camping while operating multiple patrols.
If it was the legion commander’s order, there was no room for objection.
Pale could only quietly bury his sadness over losing rest days due to the expanded patrol range.
“The night patrol should return to base in about an hour, so have some warm soup before the shift change.”
Just as Solard offered that advice to the weary-faced Pale and turned to return to the tent.
“C-Commander! Look at the sky!”
High-ranking mage Pale was the first in the camp to notice the anomaly in the sky and alerted Viscount Solard.
Solard quickly raised his head.
In his eyes appeared the sight of a golden halo soaring into the dark night sky.
“It’s a reinforcement request flare! And it’s g-golden! We must depart immediately!”
Pale panicked upon recognizing the golden flare.
The Felberg Empire actively used various flares produced by the Magic Tower, with different colors denoting different authority and meaning.
Among them, the golden flare could only be launched when the emperor or an imperial family member was in danger or requesting reinforcements from nearby central forces.
Currently, there were no imperial family members in the Felberg Empire besides the reigning emperor—all had perished in the Founding Festival catastrophe.
In other words, the one who had fired the flare dyeing the black sky golden was either the emperor himself or the commander of his imperial guard knights.
Though the exact circumstances were unclear, the mere fact of the flare meant the emperor urgently needed reinforcements.
“Knights! Arm yourselves and assemble! It’s a reinforcement request!”
There was no need for lengthy deliberation.
While Pale flustered and fussed, Viscount Loti Solard calmly took command of the knights.
Many knights were already armed and waiting for a quick shift change upon the night patrol’s return.
Solard himself wore light armor and an anti-magic cloak capable of defending against minor magical attacks, so there was no need to rush back to his personal tent for full armament.
He swiftly mounted his horse.
“Pale! What are you doing! Mount up!”
“Y-Yes, sir!”
Turning his gaze from the flustered high-ranking mage searching for his horse, Solard took in the sight of seasoned knights already armed and mounted, awaiting only their commander’s order.
“It’s a reinforcement request! We depart immediately to support His Majesty the Emperor!”
Once even the somewhat clumsy Pale had mounted and joined, Solard raised his voice powerfully to announce departure.
Excluding the small force left to guard the temporary base, around fifty elite knights and fifty seasoned cavalry turned their horses toward the flare’s origin in unison.
“Argh!”
Amid an agonized scream, another imperial guard knight collapsed, spraying crimson blood.
As a gap opened in the defensive formation, Viscount Heinrich Denver—who had been guarding Cain’s side—rushed forward to fill the breach.
Few escorts remained now.
All the Imperial Church paladins except Aren had perished, and of the imperial guard knights, only about twenty survived besides Viscount Denver.
The imperial army mages who had accompanied them were wiped out except for Viscount Philips Grey.
Faced with the corpses of fallen escorts and the endless march of black knights, Cain let out a hollow laugh.
Unpredictable variables had thoroughly tangled the situation.
Yet even as most escorts lost their lives in successive battles against unforeseen black magicians, Cain concealed his agitation and anxiety, maintaining a calm demeanor.
Of course, inwardly he was belatedly regretting not bringing more escorts under the pretext of discreet movement.
‘Am I going to die here?’
He could no longer use the constellation powers dwelling in his sacred marks.
Cain had not yet fully shed the shackles of the wastrel’s body, and his synchronization rates with the constellations in each mark were still low, preventing reckless overuse of their power.
Vendelhaven, Brünjak, and now Onisia’s sacred marks—from the underground ruins until now, he had pushed their power to excessive limits.
He had truly reached his limit.
‘Damn it.’
He thought he had prepared thoroughly, but that had been excessive arrogance.
Developer knowledge assisted him, but overconfidence had led to carelessness and lack of caution in many areas.
“Reinforcements seem to be coming.”
Just as despair began creeping in, Rachel—who unlike her assassin origins clung close with a tense expression—delivered hopeful news.
Shortly after her words, the ground-shaking thunder of hooves drew near.
“Reinforcements! Hold just a little longer!”
Viscount Denver raised his voice and swung his sword vigorously, severing the arms of three black knights.
Viscount Philips Grey gathered his remaining mana to draw a magic circle in the air.
The completed spell summoned blades of wind that butchered the black knights.
“Over here! Protect His Majesty the Emperor!”
As mounted knights approached amid rising dust, Heinrich Denver clearly identified whom they must protect.
It was necessary to avoid misunderstanding since they were disguised as a merchant caravan.
“I am Viscount Loti Solard of the 4th Capital Guard Legion’s direct knight order!”
Unlike the other knights, a relatively lightly armored knight approached, dismounted, and announced his affiliation and name.
While the knights and cavalry drove back the black knights, Solard identified himself.
Cain gave a small nod and proved his identity by showing the imperial authority ring signifying the emperor of the Felberg Empire.
“From now on, our knight order will escort His Majesty the Emperor. We have a base nearby—let us withdraw there. This place is not safe.”
“That sounds good.”
Cain accepted Viscount Solard’s proposal.
While the knights and cavalry he brought engaged the black knights, Cain safely retreated to a secure location.
Thanks to the roughly thirty cavalry on patrol who had spotted the flare and rushed over, he reached the safe patrol base without incident.
Having withdrawn to the patrol base, Cain rested under the strict vigilance of the other knights, easing his tension while Viscounts Denver and Grey sent magical telegrams to the capital.
‘The gains are sufficient.’
He had nearly died, but in the end he obtained what he wanted.
Losing many imperial guard knights was painful, but gaining Onisia’s sacred mark was what mattered.
And the gains were not limited to that.
‘To think I’d meet him here.’
Cain’s gaze turned to one man.
Loti Solard.
A genius of the sword whose talent would never bloom, fated to die young entangled in tragic events—stood right here.
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