You are at the End of the Downfall

It is the virtue and morality of a commander to protect as many soldiers as possible, feed them well, and achieve victory. That’s what Peon was taught and strived for.

“Bring arrows!”

“Keep shooting without rest!”

“Argh! Gillen is down!”

“You bastards, eat this!”

Even in this hell, he thought that one could only be human by not forgetting noble chivalry and maintaining morality.

Even while being called a vulgar and dirty mongrel, he tried to pretend to be human. How could one pretend to be human when they’re not?

“Your Highness, the left side…!”

“There are four experienced commanders there, so I’ll trust them.”

Morality was useless to Peon, who pushed the local nobles he had specifically called out directly into the most dangerous melee. Mercy was something he couldn’t even dream of.

Peon had waited for today, the day of battle, and as soon as the place of death unfolded, he pushed those who should die into it.

Legally, he had committed an ambiguous crime, and the local nobles had too much influence over the witnesses to prove it.

Even if they were reported to the Crania court for insulting the royal family, they would only receive a light punishment. That’s how the world worked. If one wanted proper punishment, they had to take matters into their own hands.

Peon forgot nothing.

“Arghhhh!”

“Launch fire arrows! Burn the siege towers!”

No, in fact, it was impossible to forget. Forgetting was no longer an option.

The loud noises all flew to his ears, so he could immediately tell what was happening where without even hearing reports. With swift orders, the coalition of foreign tribes that had brought their troops with determination still couldn’t break through even one Pueten fortress.

They wouldn’t be able to breach the Fueten fortress, but they would inflict massive damage before leaving.

It would take days just to collect the bodies at Fueten, and Lusenford would be too grief-stricken to do anything. Even if it was the emperor’s inspector, the investigation would have to be minimized and concluded.

And those who should die would die here. War was, in a way, a very convenient means of disposal.

“Aagh! Save me!”

Screams rain down from all directions. But Peon had to survive here. Those who were to die today had committed just enough sins to die today.

He wasn’t one of them. It wasn’t for him to judge his own sins. So he had to return alive. He had to face the sin that he desperately wanted to ignore and, in fact, wanted to run away from.

Would Kaela know? If she knew, how much would she remember? If he apologized with all his heart, would she forgive him?

Was it a forgivable sin in the first place?

The loser of the North faced the fear he had buried while being rained on in the battlefield where fire burned, boiling oil was poured, and humans fought most desperately for survival.

I’ve barely reached her, but this time I’ll surely be abandoned.

Just as he had miserably abandoned her before she could even reach him.

“Your Highness!”

Peon didn’t care about the arrows aiming for him or the hooks scratching the castle walls. Not only his ears but also his eyes were open, so he could simply avoid arrows or deflect them with his sword.

The battle no longer gave him any sense of crisis. Sir Wilberk rushed to him in surprise, but Peon deflected the arrow with his sword before he could get close. Far away, he could see an enemy commander lowering his bow, seemingly displeased.

Peon feared the tiny wife he had left behind more than the enemies blackening the front of the Fueten fortress.

And at the same time, he was sick of daring to be afraid. Wasn’t this what he had prepared for since he had ignored people like that, turned his back on them, and silenced them to the point they couldn’t even breathe?

He intended to be forever severed from Kaela and receive only contempt.

Because the feelings he unknowingly harbored shouldn’t come true.

[You shouldn’t betray me, Peon.]

[Because that would be immoral.]

He had abandoned human decency and even the chivalry he had upheld, but the consequences of his actions persistently followed him, finally offering him both pitch-black emptiness and hell simultaneously.

The cold, wet surface of his armor began to freeze. It was cold. Bitterly cold. But he had to endure all this and return.

In Lusenford, there was Beatrice who might do who knows what to Kaela. He had assigned Renard to her, but he wasn’t at ease. Peon smiled bitterly at the thought that he needed to hurry back to protect Kaela.

It was ironic that he was the only one who could protect her, when he was clearly the most harmful poison to Kaela.

****

Lusenford, being on the border, was a region where battles frequently occurred. But frequency doesn’t make it okay or something to get used to.

People die. People who lived side by side die. The survival instinct born from fear moves the living, while the dead cast a deep shadow over the remaining lives.

The sound of women sobbing after losing their husbands and sons could be heard faintly from corners, clinging to everyone’s backs.

Like any Lusenford resident, Kaela carried those cries on her back, gathering her dress skirts as she hurriedly loaded oil jars onto carts. Harsh and terrible days passed for everyone, with no end in sight.

“It’s dreadful.”

It truly was dreadful. Beatrice, still frowning from her persistent cough, violently pulled back the ugly curtains as if to tear them apart.

The whining sounds from below were annoying, and at night, the flickering torches by the windows and continuous noises made it impossible to sleep. Moreover, her cold symptoms persisted.

Ah, of course, Beatrice knew well that Lusenford was always like this. That’s why she hated this place. She was sick of having to be careful on slippery roads after rain, and she hated the bone-chilling cold.

Cold, of all things! In Crania, spring warmth had already given way to the onset of summer heat! Roses and peonies were already peeking out on every street, rich lilacs tempted bees, and the harbor was full of freshly imported tulips.

She had given up all sorts of tea parties, balls, and outdoor plays to be stuck here, accomplishing little. She could almost hear the Emperor’s words as he unceremoniously sent her here.

[You must do your role well. Isn’t it basic to fulfill your duties before claiming rights?]

Beatrice’s role wasn’t something that could be fully accomplished by herself alone.

She chewed her lips nervously and carefully locked the door. Although irritatingly, no one paid attention to her now, she needed to be more careful from this point on.

Beatrice couldn’t bring even half of her luggage, but she took out the celestial map she had hidden in the luggage that safely arrived. She placed water on the map showing the position of all stars and drew in darkness.

The only light was a single ember taken from the fireplace. Thin white smoke danced faintly, disappearing into the darkness.

Under the darkness and fire, water and smoke, the celestial map that Beatrice had drawn herself and marked with small diamonds began to sparkle.

“And blood.”

Human blood can be obtained anywhere. Beatrice didn’t use chicken blood like cheap fortune-tellers. She only used blood flowing from humans, high-intelligence beings who breathed heavily. Red blood began to seep and spread in the water.

“Lastly…, something stolen.”

Or an object tainted with sin would do. Things like a knife or pin that stabbed someone, a comb or handkerchief stained with tears, or a brooch of the lady of the house sneakily stolen after spending a night with a married man were perfect.

Beatrice obtained such items very easily.

She would make young ladies freshly arrived from the provinces cry from embarrassment and then lend them handkerchiefs as if being generous, or stab a terrible debtor to death with scissors, or after spending a night with a wealthy nobleman infatuated with her, she would rummage through his wife’s dressing table and simply take whatever she liked.

However, stealing something from women related to Peon was never easy. Even after tumbling with the Emperor, she couldn’t steal even a single pearl from the Empress.

By the time Peon got married, the Duchess of Monde had received a ban on entry, so Beatrice couldn’t get closer to Peon either, and thus couldn’t get anything of Kaela’s. Anyway, stolen items had to be briefly appreciated without incident, then used for divination and disposed of.

Because of this, Beatrice took out an item she had found after searching the Grand Duke’s bedroom.

“My, what a cute thing you had, Kaela.”

She had taken the whole suspicious-looking crystal bottle containing liquid.

What could this be? She dropped a little of the liquid onto the bowl where blood and water mixed. The celestial map flickered, and strangely, the blood that hadn’t dispersed in the water floated in a circle, then blue fire ignited on the water’s surface.

For the first time, a smile formed on Beatrice’s face, which had been twisted all along.

“…Really cute, isn’t it?”

What was hidden in the bottle, concealed in a hollowed-out book among those brought by the seemingly uninteresting Kaela de Chasser, was poison.

“Carrying such a deadly thing… have you grown up a lot?”

Finally. Finally, she had grasped a proper secret since coming to Lusenford. Beatrice, who could kill people with just this one small secret, peered into the basin where blue fire and red blood floated.

What would she see? What future would unfold? Blood vessels stood out in her whites, and her pink irises roamed the basin, trying to read anything.

At last, something distorted began to appear between the fire and smoke, blood and water.

****

A mysterious power impossible for humans. People called it magic, or sorcery.

According to legend, magicians were also scholars who created magical tools to make magic easier for ordinary people to use.

It was said that the wisest being, a dragon who had lived since ancient times, helped create these tools, but now no one believed that legend. Rather, they only hated the magic that dragons possessed.

Humans continuously wanted to create miracles, cause natural disasters, and know the future. So prophets and sorcerers kept appearing, with the rich and nobles as their regular customers.

Sorcerers, though despised as vulgar, amassed wealth. Just looking at how the Emperor owned most of the legendary magic tools gave an idea of the demand.

But no matter how hard they tried, there were no magicians who could properly implement magic.

Since the dragon swore not to use magic against the empire, the very fact that this oath was strongly maintained proved how terrifying magic could be. Even the dragon couldn’t break that oath.

If a magician as great as a dragon appeared, every country would see that existence as both a threat and an opportunity.

“Arghhhh…!”

The suddenly rising flames swallowed even the screams. The drenched siege tower burned again.

Despite the heavy rain and humidity in the air, whether due to the quality of the oil, fire arrows invariably ignited upon arrival. The flames grew instantly, licking up people.

On the third day of battle, both sides had suffered massive casualties and were still in a standoff at the Fueten fortress. However, despite the losses, as time passed, the side holding the formidable advantage of the fortress would naturally be more favorable.

“At least the fire catches well. It’s fortunate that Your Highness sent plenty of oil.”

The exhausted Sir Wilberk muttered while gulping down water. Peon, who had flicked his finger once before the fire rose when no one was looking, smiled faintly.

“The Grand Duchess is also doing her best.”

“It’s truly amazing. I thought she would have been quite shocked coming from the peaceful South, but I didn’t expect her to send water separately.”

Between Lusenford and Fueten, carts moved back and forth without rest. Although everyone feared possible attacks, Kaela bravely kept sending the carts.

She sent clean water separately for the soldiers to quench their thirst, gathered arrows from each fortress, and sent food, clean bandages, and sometimes even doctors. It was natural for morale to rise with such solid support from the rear.

Moreover, the losses on Lusenford’s side were mostly limited to the local powerful nobles that Peon had specifically called out.

Although the pillars supporting Lusenford had all died, when Peon himself leaped into the collapsed left wall, the coalition of foreign tribes had no choice but to retreat.

“At this rate, I think those bastards will give up. If this is all they could do with the maximum forces they gathered this spring, honestly, I’d understand if Volga beheaded Halfdan.”

He meant he would understand if they fought among themselves, assigning blame.

“You have a talent for presenting your wishful thinking as a plausible story.”

“Is the possibility that low?”

“It exists. But Halfdan isn’t someone who would easily lose his head.”

“That’s a shame.”

It would be perfect if they all fought each other and perished. Sir Wilberk managed to hold back his curses even in a situation that naturally called for them.

The other side must be feeling the same urge to curse.

They had made thorough preparations and attacked a 28-year-old young Grand Duke supposedly immersed in newlywed bliss, but they hadn’t expected him to stand firm at Fueten without retreating to Lusenford, sacrificing the local nobles who were practically his support base.

It was completely different from the tactics Peon had used so far. Peon always tried to minimize sacrifices and not lose commanders. Sometimes that became his weakness, but in this battle, he was uncharacteristically cold and merciless.

“It was easier to deal with the evil dragon instead.”

“Why is that?”

“The dragon always gives up quickly.”

If Wilberk knew that it was because the dragon couldn’t bear to hurt his son at the vanguard and repeatedly retreated, he would faint on the spot.

“Humans never give up.”

They won’t return until they get what they want. Things like food to survive a spring harsher than winter, land to sow seeds, unfrozen ports. The more they gain, the better.

“Then we must make them give up.”

We’re in a hurry too. Peon’s fingers twitched. The flames burst from the burning siege tower, starting to consume even the foreign soldiers who were desperately trying to save it.

Even Sir Wilberk was startled, but considering the amount of oil poured in front of that gate for three days, it wasn’t an unreasonable level of fire by common sense.

“How do we make them give up? It’s impossible unless internal strife breaks out among them.”

“Wouldn’t internal strife occur?”

Sir Wilberk looked at Peon, who was muttering leisurely amidst the explosions and screams, as if he couldn’t understand him.

Two days later, the coalition of foreign tribes disintegrated as Delgard rebelled and left first.