Chapter 32: Knight
White ceiling. Sunlight through a window, too bright to look at directly.
Brian lay still for a moment and registered that he was not dead.
This required some adjustment. He tried moving his hands and found he could manage his fingers. The rest of his body reported back with the kind of exhausted distance that described significant blood loss — present, functional, not to be relied upon for anything ambitious. When a maid appeared and began to help him sit up he did not resist, though the care of two young women fussing over his face with a basin was so foreign to his experience that he was not sure where to put his eyes.
The prince arrived and the maids left.
Brian had imagined this meeting in many forms, in the years when having an audience with the fourth prince had been a distant aspiration of his career. He had not imagined it from a bed, in someone else’s nightclothes, with a chest wound that pulled every time he breathed.
“I know what you did,” Roland said. He sat down beside the bed and spoke without ceremony. “You deserve the word hero, Brian.”
Brian’s throat closed. He shook his head once. “Your Highness — my friend. Greyhound. He’s the—” He couldn’t get the rest of it out.
Roland rested a hand on his shoulder and waited.
When Brian could speak again, he asked what had happened to Fierce Scar. Roland told him: interrogation, confession, the full chain of instruction traced back to Count Elk of Longsong Stronghold through a distant relative named Hiller Dmitry. The conspiracy had aimed not at assassination but at starvation — burn the food, force the prince’s retreat to the stronghold, cede Border Town to Duke Ryan’s effective control.
Greyhound’s death was named in the confession. Greyhound had refused and been killed for it. Brian heard this and closed his eyes.
“Greyhound will have a proper funeral and his family will be cared for,” Roland said. “They won’t go hungry. I give you my word.”
Brian breathed. “Fierce Scar,” he said carefully. “What happens to him?”
“Execution by hanging. Three days from now.” Roland looked at him steadily. “If you’re recovered enough to stand by then, you’re welcome to attend.”
Brian opened his eyes. “He has a noble connection. His uncle—”
“Hiller Dmitry is a distant relative of Count Elk, who is a vassal of Duke Ryan. That connection does not make Fierce Scar a nobleman — he holds no title, no land, nothing a court would recognize as noble standing. Without that standing, the exemption doesn’t apply.” Roland’s voice was even, but the evenness was deliberate, the voice of a man who has made a decision and will not revisit it. “And even if it did apply: he led an armed intrusion into the prince’s castle, attempted to destroy food supplies during a period of imminent famine, and caused the death of an innocent man. There is no protection that covers all three.”
Brian lay back against the pillow. In all his years in this town, he had watched wealth and connection dissolve consequences that should have been permanent. He had stopped expecting otherwise. Now a prince was telling him, in a steady voice, that Fierce Scar would hang.
“Rest,” Roland said, rising. “When the Months of the Demons are over, I’ll hold a canonization ceremony. You’ll receive your knighthood then, Brian.”
Brian stared at him.
“Did you think I was going to forget?” Roland smiled — not the stiff smile of ceremony, something warmer than that. “Get some sleep.”
Van’er’s one-hundredth pike thrust of the morning landed at the same angle as his ninety-ninth.
This had not been true a week ago. A week ago each thrust had been different — different timing, different grip pressure, different entry angle, the natural chaos of a man learning to make his body do something it had never done. Now it was the same, because Iron Axe had spent the week removing every variable until the motion was only motion. Not thought. Not decision. Thrust.
Van’er sat down in the mud when the rest came and exhaled completely.
He understood now what the first week of standing had been for. Not endurance — or not only endurance. The standing had trained him to hold a position until ordered to change it, which turned out to be the same skill required to hold a pike formation in a line while someone was shouting at you. He had not expected to find the connection. He had found it the first time Iron Axe yelled hold and Van’er’s body held before his brain could panic.
The militia now wore leather armor. They stood on the city wall to train rather than on the grass field. Van’er looked down from the wall at the six-hundred-foot gap between the river and the mountain, and felt the abstract weight of it become something specific.
He was going to be on this wall when the beasts came. He had known this for weeks, but knowing and knowing were different.
He was still sitting with this when the prince appeared on the wall.
Roland walked the line slowly, pausing occasionally. When he reached Van’er he stopped. “Is the training too hard? Are three meals enough?”
Van’er dropped to one knee. He had never been spoken to by royalty. He could not later recall what he’d answered.
But when Roland addressed the whole line and asked for comments, Van’er’s brain cleared. He stood up and said what he had been calculating for days: one hundred men could not hold six hundred feet of wall against a serious assault. The arithmetic was straightforward.
Roland listened. He nodded. Then he said: “You’re right. We can’t spread one hundred men across six hundred feet and expect it to hold.” He looked along the wall, then at Iron Axe. “Which is why we’re not going to defend the whole wall at once. We’re going to funnel them.”
Fences. Slopes. Ditches on the sides, guiding anything with legs toward a single designated point. Demon beasts without intelligence could be herded by obstacles the way water is herded by a channel. Iron Axe would know how — he knew the beasts’ specific fears, the hydrophobia of wolves and the photophobia of boars. The animals would go where they were guided, and at the place they arrived, the militia would be waiting with something more than pikes.
“What kind of weapon?” Iron Axe asked.
“Come and see,” Roland said. He turned to Van’er before leaving. “Your name.”
“Van’er, Your Highness.”
“I’ll recommend you for vice-captain, Van’er.” Roland nodded once. “Good work.”
Chapter 32 Knight
When Brian woke up, the first thing that caught his eyes was the white
ceiling.
The sunlight shining through the window was somewhat bright, so he had to
close his eyes a little. Then when his eyes got used to the sunlight, he opened
them again, only to find the scene in front of him unchanged.
Feeling that it wasn’t a dream, he thought, I’m… still alive? He tried to move
his body, but soon noticed that he could only lift his fingers a little bit. It
seemed that his whole body’s strength was gone.
Then he heard someone shouting, “He woke up! Go and inform His
Highness!”
His Highness? Brian felt like his brain was filled with paste and that his
thought process was many times slower than usual. By the way, what
happened after I fainted? I can only remember that Viper pierced my chest
and that I was dying, and in my last moment I could see a ghostly woman who
defeated all the enemies in an incredible way…
Soon a maid arrived to help him up so that he could sit in the bed. Then
another maid came holding a basin and sat down next to him and immediately
began to help him clean his face. In his whole life Brian had never
experienced such comprehensive personal service, plus the maids were all
young women, which made the situation really awkward for him.
Fortunately, the situation did not last long. As soon as the 4th Prince entered
the room, everyone else left.
Brian could feel a surging heat within his heart. He had too much to ask, but
then, when he tried to open his mouth he didn’t know from where to begin.
But contrary to what he had expected, Roland nodded and said, “I already
know of all your past achievements, and Brian, you are worthy of the title of
a hero.”
Hearing the word “Hero”, Brian suddenly felt his eyes begin to tear up. He
began to sob and his voice choked, “No… Your Highness, my friend…is the
real …”
Roland patted him on his shoulder so as to comfort him.
It was exactly like Nightingale had predicted. After Fierce Scar was dragged
into the torture chamber, he began to tell everything he knew before the
warden even put his hands on him.
The one behind this group was not his sister or any other of his siblings, but
Longsong Stronghold’s Elk family. Count Elk got in contact with his distant
relative Hiller Dmitry. Afterwards, Fierce Scar gained control over most of
the town patrol with the lure of a reward. In addition, he also sent an assassin
to replace one of the members in the team to prevent an accident from
occurring in the course of action. The purpose of this group of people was
not to assassinate Roland like he had thought,, instead they intended to burn
the food reserves so that he would obediently go back to the stronghold.
Their conspiracy resulted in the death of an innocent person – Greyhound. He
tried to stop Fierce Scar when he heard of his criminal intent, but he was
stabbed to death with a dagger by one of his own subordinates. The
whereabouts of the patrol member who was replaced by Viper was unknown.
When he didn’t see fire on the castle ground and noticed that Fierce Scar
failed to come back, he probably realized that the plan was discovered and
fled..
To help stabilize Brian’s mood, Roland promised him, “Your friend
Greyhound, he’ll get a funeral fitting for his sacrifice, and his family will be
properly cared for, they will no longer need to worry about food in the
future.”
“Thank you, Your Highness,” Brian took a deep breath, “I have to know.
Fierce Scar… is he dead?”
“No, he is still alive.”
Brian painfully closed his eyes. He would rather have had them not rescue
Fierce Scar so that he would have been dragged to hell than both of them
staying alive. But now, the chance to fulfill his wish became slim… There
was no doubt that Fierce Scar was guilty, but the sins committed by nobility
could always be redeemed with money. As long as his uncle was willing to
protect him, it was very likely that Fierce Scar wouldn’t die. It was most
probable that he wouldn’t even need to go to prison.
Roland could naturally guess his thoughts, “Hiller Dmitry, the uncle of Fierce
Scar, is also a distant relative of the Elk family in Longsong Stronghold. The
head of the family is Luke Dmitry, a vassal under Duke Ryan, but the fact that
he is the distant uncle of Fierce Scar…” here he paused for a little moment,
“will not affect the final verdict. Fierce Scar has been sentenced to death by
hanging, and there are only three days left until his execution. If you can
restore your body by then, you’re invited to witness it if you wish to. “
Brian became startled, “But… But Your Highness, members of the nobility
can have their freedom bought, this rule you cannot offend -“
Roland waved his hand dismissively, indicating Brian shouldn’t concern
himself with it, “He is a Noble? Maybe for you, he was born in a branch
family of the Elk family, so the status you and he have are as much apart as
heaven and earth. However, it’s a fact that he has neither a title nor a any
land, so he simply cannot be considered as nobleman. In addition, even if he
were a nobleman, to lead an invasion into the prince’s temporal royal
residence and attempt to burn the food stocks, ignoring the fate of the two
thousand people in Border Town, carried enough guilt. Adding these three
sins together, he could simply not be forgiven.”
At the time when Roland ordered the death of Tyre, he felt a little hesitant
within his heart, but Fierce Scar belonged to the entirely inexcusable
category. If he were successful, all of Roland’s own future plans for Border
Town would be destroyed, and he would never get a chance to turn his
situation around. This was more hateful than a direct assassination attempt at
Roland himself.
As for the possibility that his action would annoy Longsong Stronghold? Who
cares! Since the other party did not want to cooperate with him, of course he
would not compromise with them, they even tried choosing underhanded
tactics to entrap the entire population of Border Town. At the same time this
incident also taught Roland a lesson – this world’s political struggle was
different than what he knew from his former world, there they would mostly
concentrate themselves on competing under the table, but here they were
more inclined to set the table aside and use a much bloodier method. “Rest
well. You lost too much of your strength, so don’t leave the castle. I have
arranged for other people to take over your patrol’s work, and at the end of
the Months of the Demons, I’ll hold your canonization ceremony. “
“Your Highness,” after hearing the words ‘canonization ceremony’, Brian
looked at the prince with disbelief, “You mean…”
“Yes, you will become one of my knights, Mr. Brian,” replied Roland with a
smile.
“Prepare – stab!”
Van’er stabbed a wooden dummy with a pike, and on both sides his team
members also did the same, with the same force and also from nearly the
same angle.
This time, it was already his one-hundredth stab.
He only had a tingling feeling left in his arms and he already thought that he
would never survive this training. Despite the fact that he began to have this
thought after his fiftieth stab, he still endured. After one week of conditioning
it was already his natural reflex to obey every given order. Honestly, he
himself was the most surprised that he could still endure.
“All – rest!”
After Iron Axe shouted his command, Van’er could suddenly hear the sound
of exhaling from everywhere around him. Van’er let also exhaled, and then he
put down the pike as he sat on the ground.
Now, he finally realized that their own militia was not responsible for being
the errand troop for the guards or the knights. After one week of eccentric
training, the training changed more to the fighting portion. For example, now
they were standing on the city wall and were thrusting out their pikes
according to the captain’s orders – although these pikes were replaced with
wooden poles, anyone could imagine their roles in the future.
The logistics team would never do such exercises, so this also meant that
they would confront the evil beasts on the wall. Naturally thinking about this,
Van’er felt fear. He had even thought of sneaking away, but he didn’t know
why, seeing his teammates around himself with the thought of three meals a
day and a good salary slowly changed his mind.
TN: uncle Hill was changed into uncle Hiller